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hairmetal666 · 10 months ago

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They start kissing on stage as a joke.

The night before the first time, they're at an afterparty, pounding shots, and Eddie is reading aloud a piece that just came out in Rolling Stone. "'One of the most noteworthy parts of Munson and Harrington's unlikely pairing is their chemistry on stage. It's like these two men--one on his way to being the latest metal god, the other an indie rock wunderkind--are two parts of one musical whole. Their singing, their playing, even their bodies twine and flow with assuredness; where one goes, the other follows without question. They share a single brain-cell and that cell is music'."

Steve giggles, pours some more Grey Goose into the glass. "If they say that now, could you imagine what would happen if we, like, kissed on stage or something."

"What the fuck, Harrington?" Eddie splutters, having just thrown a drink back.

"I don't know, other bands do it!"

Eddie snorts. "I'm cutting you off." He reaches for the bottle and the suggestion is forgotten for wrestling over the liquor.

Steve barely remembers it in the morning. Doesn't think about it at all as he gets ready to go out on stage.

They're playing one of the instrumental breakdowns when it happens. They're leaning into each other, Eddie smiling over his shoulder at him, their eyes locked, bodies moving together. "You wanna?" Eddie mouths at him.

Steve nods before the question actually registers and by then Eddie's warm, soft mouth is against his and he just-- completely forgets what he's doing. His hands still on the guitar strings, and he melts a little, going completely boneless when Eddie grips the back of his head, pulls him deeper into the kiss. t's over almost as quickly as it started, Eddie pulling away and swirling to the mic to start the next verse.

The kiss sinks into Steve's bones, and that's before it becomes a regular feature of their performances. After that night, they're never at the same time during the show, all initiated by Eddie, all over before he can catch his breath; each one chaste and surrounded by people but somehow more intimate than any make out.

He and Eddie, they're friends, bandmates, collaborators. They've known each other since they first started out, forging an immediate connection with they stumbled upon each other hiding out in the garden at some industry bigwig's party. And as much as he loved his friend, never once in that time had Steve considered wanting Eddie.

But now, now he falls asleep with the ghost of Eddie on his lips, goes into each show with a thrum of anticipation, catches himself thinking how beautiful his friend is when he's all rumpled and disheveled from a night in the tour bus bunks.

They've always been easy with physical affection, but once the kissing starts they're constantly in each other's space, idly playing with hair, laying across laps, heads on shoulders, twisting together on the tour bus couch. Steve is ruined with every touch, every moment; he can't get enough.

The first time Eddie uses tongue destroys every last piece of Steve's composure. They've added a new song to the setlist, a remixed version of Eddie's hit "Prince Charming". It's hard, heavy, sexy, one of Steve's favorites. And in the middle of it, right in the middle, Eddie shoves him against a low platform, kisses him like he's trying to own him, tongues twining eager and wet and full of sinful promise. It's like that every show after, Eddie kissing him deep and thorough, like he's trying to lick up every drop of Steve.

He is, unquestionably, fucked. Unquestionably falling. Can't properly fathom how he'd gotten himself here, desperate for Eddie's kiss, as performative as it may be.

They're packing up equipment after a show. Eddie's hair is piled in a messy bun and Steve is trying not to blatantly stare at the curve of his neck, the stray curls against his pale skin. Eddie's gesturing at something, says, "Can you grab those cords, swee--Steve?" He hands them over without thought, notices that Eddie's face is shining red. He's called away to deal with packing the guitars, forgets all about it, but at their next show, Eddie doesn't kiss him.

They don't talk about it.

Eddie doesn't try to kiss him again.

A week after Eddie stops the kiss, they have a night off between shows. He needs to get out of his head, goes out with Robin. He gets back fairly early, but all the lights are off in the bus. It makes him panic in a way it shouldn't; they've always done their own things. Still, he rushes on board, flips on the lights, his absurd heart beating too hard.

Eddie is curled up on the couch, face pressed to the pillows and covered with his hands. The panic kicks up a notch.

"Eddie?" He steps closer, slowly reaching out to grip Eddie's shoulder.

He jerks upright, earbuds slipping free, phone sliding down his hip. "Steve?"

His face is wet, tears actively slipping free from his eyes as Steve watches.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" His hands flutter around Eddie's arms and face, searching for bruises or wounds.

"I'm fine, Harrington," he chokes out. "Though you were out with Robin?"

"Yeah, I was, but Chrissy called. You know how useless she gets. But that doesn't--you--you're crying. What's wrong?"

Eddie's smile is a wobbly little thing, refusing to stick on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fell for the wrong guy."

Steve forces down the gut churning hurt at hearing that Eddie's in love with someone, intent on comforting his friend. He tries to slip his arm around Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie shrugs him off. It jostles Eddie's phone again, slipping it toward Steve and activating the screen. He has a split second where he's looking at the cover of his own first album, before Eddie's snatching it out of reach, scrambling up from the couch.

"I'm fine." He swipes his sleeve over his face. "It's nothing."

And Steve is putting it all together, the being in love and listening to Steve's music, the kissing and how it ended.--

"Eddie." He sounds all wrong, choked and garbled.

Eddie doesn't turn around, is stuffing his feet into his boots. "I'm--I gotta go clear my head."

He walks towards the door and Steve just--"I've been obsessed with you since the first kiss," he says. Eddie stops, hand curled against the door. "We've been friends all this time and I didn't--I never realized. And then we kissed and--it's all I've been able to think about."

Eddie turns then, facing him, expression unreadable."Steve, what are you--"

"I love you. I'm in love with you." It comes out fast, all jumbled, but he can't stand Eddie leaving, not now.

"You--?" Eddie blinks, bites his lip. "That's not possible."

Steve smiles, can't help it. "It is, though. Turns out, I can't get enough."

Their eyes lock; neither speaks. Steve's heart pounds so hard it might spring free of his chest. Eddie moves first, crosses the small distance between them to pull Steve into his arms.

It's not a kiss, but Steve buries his face against Eddie's neck, breathing him in, feeling the echo to the pound of his own heart. "How long?" Steve asks.

Eddie's soft laugh vibrates through him. "Since I saw you walking in that garden and thought, 'jesus christ, Prince Charming is real'."

Steve pulls away to stare at Eddie in disbelief. "But that's--your--the song?"

"They're kinda all about you, Stevie. But that one most of all." Eddie whispers. His eyes glisten.

"Fuck, Eddie." He doesn't mean to whine, but he's not in control of his voice anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't--" He shakes his head. "I'm all yours, Ed. Whatever you want."

Eddie's thumb catches against Steve's bottom lips, eyes transfixed on his mouth. "Everything, sweetheart. I want it all."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #bandmates steve and eddie #musician au #fluff #angst #eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington #oblivious steve harrington #eventual mutual pining #kissing on stage #it's a joke. until it isn't #this is because boygenius won a bunch of grammys #all award shows are fake and the grammys are the most fake of all but still #if the tour bus is rockin' etc etc etc #grey goose got your girl feeling loose

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ozzgin · 6 months ago

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Omg i love your Yandere serial killer with a split persona so much 😭😭, can you do more headcanon about him?? Like does he aware of his other persona seeing reader kinda scared to talk to him normally thank u

Yandere! Serial Killer Scenarios

Featuring the kind, quiet man who has no idea why you look at him with terror in your eyes. This time with an official character design!

Content: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror, dubious/non-consent

[Main Story] | [More original works]

You only attempted to escape once.

His frequent warnings had begun to wear off, and your mind dared to wander towards hope. One day, during his evening walk, you ran to your bedroom and pulled out a train ticket you'd hidden earlier inside a drawer. The small piece of paper weighed heavy in your hand. Come, now, you scolded yourself. It was weeks of careful planning: anticipating his schedule, erasing your tracks, preparing the essentials. You could already smell the worn leather seats, and hear the jarring whistle of departure. Then you'd be far away from this maniac, all but a terrible memory to be locked away.

There was no time for hesitation. You grabbed a small bag and sped towards the station, frequently looking over your shoulder, muttering silent prayers. Once you made it to your compartment, you exhaled in relief. A relief you hadn't felt in months, washing over your body and relaxing your tense muscles. You climbed the stairs, and searched for your seat. Has someone misread their ticket? You found your spot occupied by a stranger.

"What did I tell you about running away?" his deep voice echoed across the empty hall.

The walk back home was silent. You were convinced this was your end. You'd arrive at the house, and he'd cut you into pieces. Your lips curled in a horrified grimace, mind flooded with foreign feelings: your nails plucked apart with pliers, a burning sting after each detachment. The roots of your teeth grinding and screeching within the bone of your jaw, until all that's left is a fleshy, gaping wound. Plop, plop, as each little souvenir falls into the jar.

He slammed the door shut and stared you down. You looked at the floor, but all you could see were the grimy ID cards of all the women who never made it out of this damned house. You were next.

His large hand ruffled your hair, and you glanced up in disbelief.

"This stays between us. Mother better not hear that her soon-to-be daughter in law tried to run away. Especially now that she's warmed up to you. Are we clear?"

You nodded desperately. God, how pathetic of you. But being trapped was better than rotting underground like the rest of them. You just wanted to live.

You can always tell whether it's him, or him. It's the silence. Or lack of, for that matter. He likes the quietness, the muffled ticking of the clock, the busy rattling in the kitchen, your laughs, your chatter. You'll sit together and listen to the rain, or read your books across from each other. There's no need for words, you know you can be at peace.

He likes music. When you hear the record player, you know it's your cue to perform. You exit your room - it's better if he doesn't call you down himself - and descend to the main area. The stairs creak louder, the wallpaper begins to yellow. It's almost as if the house ages with the music, and you tumble back in time.

He's been waiting for you, naturally. How's a man meant to spend his evenings, if not with his adored wife? He'll reach out for your hand, and invite you to a slow dance. Those are the worst moments. The tight, suffocating hold, his deranged stare drilling into your very soul, the whispered promises: that you're forever his, and you'll never find happiness anywhere else. He knows it. It's the same for him, really. Everything he's ever needed lies within your embrace.

Some days, the charade doesn't last long. You simply won't be in the mood to be kissed, to be stripped naked and fondled by his murderous hands. So you'll just pout and gaze ahead. It angers him terribly.

"Wretched whore. Do I look like a beggar?"

He'll shove you aside and make his way out, taking his tools with him. He hates asking for your affection and would rather take his anger out somewhere else. You know he won't hurt you, or force himself on you, which means someone else will have to pay for your disrespect. And yet, it's the only freedom you have around him - the privilege of refusing him and living to see the next day. The rest aren't as lucky. You'd rather not think too deeply about it.

My honey, I know With the dawn that you will be gone But tonight, you belong to me Just to little old me.

What a bizarre thing, to harbor such hatred towards the one you love. You've never met anyone kinder. He's thoughtful, patient, caring. He knows everything about you and lives to serve you. He's your best friend and your lover. He's the one you want to marry one day. But he's also...well...him. And you can't have one without the other.

"No, Mother, it isn't tacky," he barks at the shattered mirror, adjusting your necklace. "And you know what? It's up to (Y/N) to decide if she wants to wear your wedding jewelry."

"It's nice", you respond curtly. You look into the empty reflection and nod. He likes it when you take his side in front of Mother.

"I knew you'd agree. We're a match made in Heaven, aren't we?" he smiles and zips up the old dress. You shiver: wearing a dead woman's gown was not part of your wedding plans. The corset is tightened, and you gasp. His hands are tense.

"I know he proposed to you. And what a stupid grin you had on your face when it happened! You never act like that around me."

He doesn't call me a bitch, for starters, you think to yourself. You shuffle on the bed, trying to loosen up the garment, but he swiftly pins you down onto the mattress.

"Not that it matters. Would you like to know why?" he inquires with a familiar glimmer of jealousy in his dilated pupils. "Because I'll always be your first. You know it, I know it. He never will.

At the end of the day, you belong to me."

To compete with oneself. Nonsense. Utter madness, all of it. The house; the drawer filled with gory trophies; the nightly talks with Mother dearest, whose bones have most likely turned to dust by now; the bloodied scalpels; the embrace of a man who fills you with warmth and terror.

You're part of it now.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere serial killer #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere art #doodle #my art #horror #obsessive love

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 7 months ago

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You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.”

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown.

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better.

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her.

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted.

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum?

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise.

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.”

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear.

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?”

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits.

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.”

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks.

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.”

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.”

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.”

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.”

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment.

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

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goldfades · 2 months ago

Text

STOLEN MOMENTS IN PARKING LOTS──RAFE CAMERON

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for this request!

─ summary | rafe tries to provoke jealousy by showing public affection for sofia, but as tensions rise, he confronts you and reveals his feelings.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x ex!fem!reader

─ warnings | NSFW!! (with plot) under the cut!! p in v, praise, pretty soft, nothing too cray but it's in the backseat of his car soooo. some angst in the beginning, rafe tries to fight someone (when does he not?), mention of drinking, ummm maybe cheating cause i lowk forgot about sofia cause bro does break up with her... but wtv! it's for the plot!

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! i actually love rafe more than i do life itself and... i wanna feed yall so PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME ANYTHING. anyways... sorry i just had to get that out there!!

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The air feels thick around you as you weave through the crowded beach, trying to keep your gaze anywhere but on Rafe. His laugh, louder than it needs to be, cuts through the noise of the party, and you can’t help but notice Sofia wrapped around him.

She leans into his touch, her smile bright as his hands roam casually over her waist, like he used to do with you. You catch a glimpse of them, Rafe pulling her closer, his lips moving to hers in a display meant for everyone, but especially for you. You look away, forcing yourself to focus on the bonfire, the drinks, anything. But it’s impossible to ignore the magnetic pull. It’s like he’s everywhere at once, the weight of his stare pressing into you even though his attention should be elsewhere.

And maybe it is—his lips are on her—but his eyes, whenever you risk a glance, are always searching for you.

You tighten your grip around your drink, jaw clenched against the swirl of emotions building in your chest. Each stolen glance at Rafe pulls at something deep inside you, but you refuse to let it show. The heat of the bonfire warms your skin, the crackling flames a welcome distraction as you will yourself to block out the image of him with her.

The party hums around you, but all you can hear is his laughter—so familiar, yet distant, like he’s a world away, even though he’s right there.

But before the thoughts can spiral further, someone steps into your line of sight, blocking the view you’ve been pretending not to care about. You blink up, surprised to see a guy you vaguely recognize from around town, his easy smile and tousled brown hair a stark contrast to the tension thrumming inside you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice smooth, the kind that carries well over the music. “You looked like you could use some company.”

You offer him a half-smile, more out of politeness than genuine interest, but something in you shifts—an instinct, maybe, to distract yourself, to prove to yourself that you’re fine. If Rafe can move, so can you. So, you shrug, meeting his gaze for longer than you have with anyone all night.

“Maybe I do,” you reply, your voice light despite the ache still gnawing at the back of your mind.

He steps closer, leaning casually on the railing next to you. “Name’s Tyler. You’ve been to these parties before, right?”

You nod, taking a sip of your drink, your eyes drifting briefly toward where Rafe stands before snapping back to Tyler. He follows your gaze but doesn’t comment on it. “Yeah, once or twice,” you say, playing along.

Tyler’s grin widens, sensing an opening. “Let me guess, you’re not a fan of the scene? You don’t seem like the type to be into the chaos.”

You laugh softly, surprising yourself. “Not usually,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But it’s better than staying home.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, his eyes roaming over your face, lingering a second longer than necessary. “But I’ve gotta say, I’m glad you came out tonight.”

There’s a warmth in his words, a casual flirtation that makes it easy to forget the lingering tension in your chest. You tilt your head, giving him a look you haven’t given anyone in a while—playful, even if only for the moment. “And why’s that?”

His smile turns a bit more mischievous as he leans in, lowering his voice. “Because I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you.”

You feel a small spark of satisfaction flare inside, the kind that comes from knowing you’re being noticed, admired, even if it’s fleeting. You toy with the edge of your cup, glancing up at him beneath your lashes. “Well, aren’t you charming.”

Tyler laughs, a low, easy sound that feels like a balm against the tension in your mind. “Just telling the truth,” he says, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he gestures toward the fire. “Want to grab a seat by the bonfire? I’d hate for you to be stuck standing here all night.”

You hesitate for a second, glancing toward the beach where Rafe and Sofia are still tangled in each other. But the sight no longer stings as much—it’s dulled, replaced by a sudden urge to push back, to be seen with someone else, just as he’s parading her around. It’s petty, you know that. But right now, you don’t care.

“Sure,” you say, offering Tyler a real smile this time, one that lights up your eyes. “Why not?”

As the two of you make your way to the fire, you can feel Rafe’s eyes on you, burning hotter than the flames, but you don’t look back. Not yet. You settle onto one of the logs beside Tyler, letting his easy conversation and light touches distract you, pretending for a moment that you don’t feel the weight of Rafe’s gaze following your every move.

A few hours (and drinks) later, you find yourself leaning against Tyler’s car, his hands on your waist, lips trailing down your neck as the distant sounds of the party fade into the background. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been out here, away from the noise, away from him. The warmth of the alcohol buzzes through you, making it easy to forget about the tension that had been gnawing at you all night.

Tyler’s mouth finds yours, and you lean into it, closing the gap between you. His kiss is heated but unhurried, his touch light on your skin, and for the first time tonight, you let yourself slip into the moment. The back of your mind, the part that’s always aware of Rafe, quiets—just for now. Tyler’s hands move down to your hips, pulling you closer, and you tilt your head, deepening the kiss as his fingers trace soft patterns over your waist.

For a few blissful seconds, you don’t think about Rafe at all. It’s just you, Tyler, and the cool night air pressing in around you. Tyler’s touch is comforting, a distraction, a way to escape the complicated mess of emotions Rafe always drags you into. And for the first time tonight, you don’t feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of what used to be.

Tyler breaks the kiss, his lips still brushing against yours as he grins. “You sure know how to make a guy’s night, sweetheart,” he teases, his voice low and breathy, pulling you in even further.

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Do I, really?” You reply, matching his grin, feeling the haze of everything slip further away.

Tyler’s hands tighten around your waist, his mouth once again capturing yours as you press against the cool metal of the car. His kisses are eager now, more insistent, and you match his energy, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. The taste of alcohol lingers between you, the sound of your breathing mingling with the distant crash of waves and faint music from the party you left behind.

You close your eyes, momentarily letting go of everything—of Rafe, of the tangled mess he left behind in your head. Tyler’s lips move against yours, and for just a second, you feel light. Free.

But then, everything shifts.

The tension in the air thickens in an instant, and you sense it before you even open your eyes. A sudden presence, looming and charged, like a storm about to break. When you finally pull back from Tyler and glance up, your heart stumbles in your chest.

Rafe stands a few feet away, his expression dark—dangerously dark. His eyes lock onto yours first, blazing with an anger so intense it makes your stomach flip. Then his gaze flicks to Tyler, and you can practically feel the rage rolling off him in waves.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe’s voice is low, almost a growl, but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

Tyler, oblivious to the storm he’s just walked into, straightens up, his arm still loosely around your waist. “Relax, man,” he says, trying to sound casual, though there’s a note of uncertainty in his voice. “We were just—”

Rafe doesn’t let him finish. He takes a step closer, fists clenched at his sides, his whole body vibrating with barely-contained fury. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he spits, his eyes still fixed on you. But then his gaze cuts back to Tyler, and something dangerous flashes there. “But if you don’t get your hands off her right now, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Tyler scoffs, dropping his arm but not backing down. “What’s your deal, Cameron? She’s not your girl anymore.”

Those words are like a lit match thrown into a gasoline fire.

In an instant, Rafe’s on him, shoving Tyler hard against the side of the car. “What did you just say?” Rafe’s voice is low and menacing, his face inches from Tyler’s. His fists are white-knuckled, trembling with the need to unleash the anger bottled up inside him. “You think you can just put your hands on her like that?”

Tyler stumbles, but he manages to push back, his hands coming up defensively. “Chill, man! It’s not that serious!”

But it is. For Rafe, it’s everything.

You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, in the wild, desperate look in his eyes as they flicker between you and Tyler. He’s spiraling, and you know this side of him all too well—the part that lashes out, that destroys when he feels like he’s losing control.

“Rafe, stop,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended, cutting through the haze of tension. You step forward, placing yourself between him and Tyler, your hand pressing against Rafe’s chest. His muscles are taut beneath your touch, coiled and ready to explode. “This isn’t worth it.”

For a moment, Rafe doesn’t move. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, his eyes locked on yours, searching, desperate for something he can’t find. He looks down at your hand on his chest, and for a second, you think he might back down.

But then he shakes his head, his voice tight with frustration. “What’s your fucking problem?” he snaps, his words aimed at you now. “Do you not miss me? Is this how you move on?”

You flinch, taken aback by the raw vulnerability buried beneath his anger. His words hit harder than any shove, cutting through the defenses you’ve been trying to build all night. You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat.

Rafe’s hands grip your arms suddenly, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching, the anger faltering for a split second as something else flickers there—something almost like hurt. “Tell me,” he demands, his voice quieter now, but no less desperate. “Tell me you don’t miss me.”

Rafe's grip tightens for a fraction of a second, his eyes still locked on yours, searching for something, anything, that will ease the storm raging inside him. His question lingers between you, thick and heavy, but you can’t answer him, not here, not like this. Tyler, still lingering nearby, lets out an irritated scoff, but there’s a tremor in it. He knows better than to challenge Rafe further—everyone does.

You feel Rafe’s breath against your skin, shallow and ragged, as if he's waiting for the moment you confirm his worst fears. But instead of answering him, you take a deep breath, your hand brushing over his chest. “Come on,” you murmur, voice softer now, low enough that only he can hear. “Let’s go.”

For a brief moment, Rafe hesitates, his gaze flickering toward Tyler, like he’s still deciding whether to throw another punch. But your hand slides down, gently tugging at his arm, and his attention snaps back to you. Slowly, his grip loosens.

Tyler, sensing the shift, straightens up but keeps his distance, his bravado from earlier slipping away as he watches you lead Rafe toward the beach. “Whatever, man,” Tyler mutters, though his voice wavers, betraying the fear he's been masking. “You two deserve each other.”

You don’t even look back at him, and Rafe doesn’t either. His focus is entirely on you now, the tension between his clenched jaw and the way he follows your lead without protest. Tyler slinks off, disappearing into the crowd as if he’s suddenly remembered who he’s dealing with.

As you walk further from the party, the sounds of the bonfire and distant music grow fainter, leaving only the soft rush of the waves and the cool breeze whipping against your skin. Rafe’s fingers brush against your hand, and though the anger in him hasn’t fully burned out, his pace slows as the two of you near the shore.

The silence between you is heavy, electric. You can feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down, the tension thick enough to suffocate. His frustration, his desperation—it’s all still there, simmering beneath the surface. But now, without an audience, without the pretense of Tyler or Sofia, it feels rawer, more exposed.

Rafe stops just shy of the water, his grip on you tightening again, though not out of anger this time. It’s almost as if he’s holding onto you for stability, for some anchor to stop him from drowning in whatever dark place his mind has gone. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice quiet, rough around the edges, but no longer carrying the rage that had consumed him moments before. “Why are you acting like you don’t care?”

You feel the words clawing at the back of your throat, the urge to lash out or deflect, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes it impossible. Instead, you stand there, caught between the pull of the past and the mess of emotions swirling around you now.

It’s all too complicated, and yet somehow, painfully simple. You’ve never stopped caring. But Rafe… Rafe has always made things more difficult than they needed to be.

Rafe’s question lingers in the salty night air, hanging between you like a taut string waiting to snap. His eyes search your face for something—an answer, an apology, anything to make sense of the confusion brewing in his mind. But you’re not ready to give him what he wants. Not yet, at least.

The sound of the ocean crashing against the shore fills the silence between you, your pulse racing in time with the waves. You look away, focusing on the dark horizon, your toes sinking into the cool sand as you try to gather your thoughts. Why are you doing this? The question echoes in your mind, but it’s not as simple as Rafe seems to think.

Maybe it’s because you’re tired—tired of feeling like he’s pulling the strings, tired of the toxic push and pull of your relationship. Maybe you’re doing it because it hurts too much to care about someone who only seems to care when you’re slipping away. Or maybe it’s because, deep down, you know that no matter how hard he tries to provoke you, to force a reaction, the person who’s really hurting is him.

You glance at him, and for the first time in a while, you let yourself really look. His eyes are still wild with anger, but there’s something else there too—something that cracks through the hard shell he’s built around himself. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his breathing ragged from the tension that’s been gripping him since the moment he saw you with Tyler. His hands, though no longer tight on your arms, still linger, as if afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go entirely.

“I’m not acting like I don’t care,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended. There’s a vulnerability in the admission that makes your stomach twist, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I just… I can’t do this with you, Rafe. Not like this.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, his brows furrowing, but then he hesitates, the frustration flickering in his eyes giving way to something closer to desperation. “Then how?” His voice is quieter now, too, though it’s laced with an edge of exasperation. “Tell me how, because I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You almost laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the ache in your chest keeps you from it. He doesn’t know what to do? The guy who’s spent the entire night trying to make you jealous, parading Sofia around like some twisted declaration of victory, now stands in front of you, unsure, vulnerable.

But this is Rafe Cameron. The boy who hides his insecurities behind anger and control. The boy who pushes you away just to pull you back in, like some sick game where neither of you ever really wins.

“You think this is all my fault?” you ask, taking a step back, breaking the physical connection between you. His hands fall away, and though his body stays rooted in place, his expression twists as if the loss of contact has left him exposed. “You think you can just act like that all night, throw Sofia in my face, and I’m supposed to be okay with it?”

Rafe winces at your words, and for a moment, he looks away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I wasn’t trying to—” He stops, gritting his teeth, clearly wrestling with what to say. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Right,” you mutter, folding your arms over your chest, the bitterness in your tone impossible to hide. “Because trying to hurt me is the only way you know how to get my attention?”

He stares at you, his lips parting like he wants to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, he clenches his jaw and looks down, the anger draining from his posture, leaving behind only exhaustion. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he says finally, so quietly you almost don’t hear him over the waves. “I just… I didn’t know how to make you miss me. I don’t know how to do this without screwing it up.”

The confession hits you harder than you expect, a crack in the armor he’s always so careful to maintain. It’s the first time all night he’s shown you anything real, anything beyond the bluster and anger he uses to shield himself. And it leaves you speechless.

Rafe lets out a frustrated breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares down at the sand, avoiding your gaze. “I know I’m not… good at this. At us.” His voice wavers slightly, like admitting it is a betrayal of the tough, unshakable image he’s spent his whole life building. “But I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else. Especially not him.”

There it is. The raw, vulnerable truth buried beneath layers of anger and bravado. The truth you’ve always known but never heard him admit out loud.

You swallow hard, feeling the sting of his words settle into the hollow ache in your chest. “Rafe… I can’t keep doing this. The fighting, the jealousy—it’s too much.” Your voice cracks, and you hate how exposed you feel saying it out loud. But it needs to be said.

His eyes snap back to yours, wide and frantic, as if he’s afraid you’re slipping through his fingers. “I’ll stop,” he blurts out, stepping closer, the desperation back in his voice. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t—don’t walk away.”

You bite your lip, torn between the part of you that wants to believe him and the part of you that knows it’s not that simple. He’s said things like this before, made promises in moments of weakness, only to fall back into old patterns when the anger returns. But this time, there’s something different in his eyes—a genuine fear that this might really be it.

“I don’t know if you can stop, Rafe,” you say quietly, the honesty of your words hanging heavy between you. “You’re always so angry… and I can’t be the one trying to fix it every time.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he absorbs what you’ve said. But then, to your surprise, he nods, his expression shifting from desperation to something more resigned. “You’re right,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am angry. But not at you.”

You blink, taken aback by the admission. It’s the first time he’s ever acknowledged that the rage he carries isn’t about you—not really. It’s always been deeper than that, rooted in things he’s never fully let you in on.

“So what then?” you ask, your tone softer now, more searching. “What are you so angry about?”

Rafe looks away again, his jaw clenched as if he’s trying to hold something back. But then he sighs, running both hands through his hair in a gesture that screams frustration. “Everything,” he mutters, his voice rough. “My family, my life… I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix it.”

You watch him, your heart aching at the sight of him so lost, so broken. For a moment, all the frustration you’ve felt toward him melts away, replaced by the familiar ache of wanting to help him, to fix what’s been broken between you.

But you know that’s not your job. It never was.

Rafe’s confession hangs in the air, weighty and raw, his vulnerability exposed in a way that catches you off guard. For a moment, all the anger and frustration that has built up between you feels insignificant. The walls he keeps so tightly guarded have crumbled, and in their place, there's a boy you recognize—a boy desperate for something solid in a world that’s been spiraling out of control.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you reach out, brushing your fingers against his arm. His breath hitches at the contact, and slowly, his gaze finds yours again. His eyes are dark, a mix of anger, longing, and something deeper, something that’s always been there but never fully spoken between you two.

“I’m not walking away,” you murmur, barely able to find your voice as the tension between you thickens. “I’m still here, Rafe. But you need to figure out what you want… and stop trying to hurt me to get there.”

His expression softens at your words, the desperation giving way to a flicker of hope. For a moment, he just stares at you, his lips parted like he’s trying to say something, but no words come. Instead, he steps closer, his hands brushing your waist, hesitant, as if testing the boundaries between you.

“Tell me what to do,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how to fix this.”

The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and despite everything—despite the anger, the games, the toxic cycle—you find yourself leaning into him. The truth is, you don’t have all the answers. You never have. But standing this close to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body, you know one thing for certain—you miss him. As much as you’ve tried to push him away, you can’t deny the pull that’s always been there, the magnetic connection between you.

“You start by being honest with me,” you say quietly, your fingers finding their way to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric as if anchoring yourself. “No more games, Rafe.”

He nods, swallowing hard as his hands slide up your waist, pulling you closer, the space between you shrinking with each passing second. “I’ll be honest,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, sending a rush of heat through your body. “I’m done with the games, baby.”

Before you can respond, his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s desperate and hungry, all the frustration and longing pouring into the contact. It’s not gentle; it’s raw and unfiltered, like he’s been holding back for too long, and now that he has you, he can’t stop himself.

You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him back just as fiercely. The world around you blurs into nothingness—the sound of the waves, the distant party—it all fades away until the only thing that exists is him. His hands roam your body, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, and you melt into him, the heat between you building with every passing second.

He pulls you even closer, his body pressing against yours as his lips move with a kind of desperation that makes your heart race. It's overwhelming, the way he kisses you, the way he holds you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. You feel the intensity of everything he's been holding back—the anger, the pain, the desire—and it ignites something deep within you.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, but he doesn’t let you pull away for long. His lips find your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your throat, and you can’t stop the soft moan that escapes your lips. His name tumbles from your mouth in a breathless whisper, and you feel him tense against you, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and hoarse as his hands slide under your shirt, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

Your heart stutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice taking you off guard. It’s not just the physical connection that’s pulling you back in—it’s the raw emotion behind it, the way he’s finally letting you see the side of him he’s been hiding for so long.

And then, somehow, you find yourself back in parking lot, against his car. His lips never leave yours, his kiss hungry and desperate.

“Rafe…” You barely manage to get his name out as he lifts you slightly, pushing you against the side of his car, his body pressing you firmly against the cool metal. His lips find yours again, and this time the kiss is slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring the taste of you.

Your mind spins, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all—the way he touches you, the way he kisses you like he’s afraid this might be the last time. There's a desperation in the way he clings to you, like he's trying to make up for every moment he's hurt you, every second he's pushed you away.

Rafe’s hands grip your hips as he pulls you tighter against him, his touch searing through the thin fabric of your shirt. The way his body presses into yours is almost suffocating, but in a way that you crave, like you’ve been starved for this kind of contact for too long. His lips move against yours with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, a contrast that leaves you dizzy, struggling to catch your breath.

Every kiss feels like a question, as if he’s asking for more, for you to let him in completely again. And you want to. Despite all the games, all the hurt, there’s something undeniable about being with him—something that makes your heart race in ways you haven’t felt since the beginning.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten as his hands slide up your back, his fingertips grazing the bare skin just under the hem of your shirt. It’s almost like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you, as if this is his last chance to make things right.

His lips leave yours for just a moment, trailing down your jaw and finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. You shiver as his hot breath fans against your skin, your body reacting instinctively to his every move. His name falls from your lips in a breathless whisper, and you feel him pause, his breath hitching at the sound.

You feel his hand reach for the door behind you, opening it before he practically threw you into the backseat. Rafe climbs on top of you, and his lips are on yours again. You moan at the contact, your head falling back into the cool leather of his backseat. God, how you missed those cushions.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice rough with emotion, barely holding himself together. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, and you feel his desperation in every touch, in every kiss that follows. It’s not just physical—there’s a vulnerability there, a need that goes far deeper than the surface.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize what he’s truly saying. This isn’t just about the heat of the moment or the chemistry that’s always drawn you two together. It’s about him finally letting you see past the walls he’s built—past the anger, the bravado, and the façade he shows everyone else.

You tilt your head back, giving him more access as his lips move lower, trailing down your collarbone, and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. The world around you seems to blur, the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the soft hum of the party fading into the background until all that’s left is the two of you, tangled together in the dim glow of the night.

He leans back slightly and all you could hear in the darkness of the night was the clink of his belt, and a shiver went down your spine as you think about what's coming. You almost immediately slip out of your shorts as you slid back, giving yourself enough room to spread out before Rafe is in between your legs.

You can make out his face in the darkness, the faint moonlight casting shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw. His eyes, those piercing blue eyes that have always had a way of making you feel seen—and sometimes too exposed—are locked on you, and it makes your heart (and pussy) beat faster.

“Rafe,” you breathe, your voice barely audible as his lips return to yours in a searing kiss. It’s slow this time, deliberate, as if he’s savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands slide up your sides, taking the edge of your shirt with them, and your breath hitches as you feel the cool night air against your skin.

Then, you feel his warm tip against your thigh. Never leaving your lips, Rafe slowly leans his cock right into your sopping pussy. You let out a soft moan, the feeling of being filled up by his cock again making your head spin with pure bliss.

“Oh, shit,” he draws out as his head falls back, the feeling of your warm cunt overwhelming. “God I missed you, pretty baby.”

And it feels like time has stopped, like the only thing that matters is the heat between you, the way your bodies fit together perfectly, like this is where you’re meant to be. His hands roam over your back, your sides, exploring with a kind of urgency that makes your pulse quicken as he pushes in deeper into your pussy.

It hurts, at first until he bottoms you out. He's still for a moment as he leans his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy. After he felt you tighten around him, he instantly pulled your hips before he began thrusting in and out of you slowly, as if he was warming up.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out as your hands find his shoulders. Your breath comes out in short, ragged gasps as you cling to him, your body responding to his in ways that are both familiar and intoxicatingly new.

He's fucking into you at this point, his own grunts echoing in the empty car. You could feel the windows begin to fog up as his thrusts become more sharp, more meaningful. It’s overwhelming, the intensity of it all, but you can’t stop yourself—you don’t want to. You’ve missed this, missed him, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

At the sound of your cries of pleasure, Rafe chuckles breathless. “Oh, yeah? You like that?”

All you could do was nod as he begins increasing the speed of his thrusts, he was rocking into you with brute force but he was still gentle, somehow. His hands reach up to find your throat, holding it as he fucks into you harder. Rafe lifts your hips a little more so that he could reach that sweet spot, and you knew it was over.

“Rafe, fuck!” You cry as your head falls back into the cushion, your mouth slightly open and your eyes rolling back in your head. You're shaking, at this point—you're not holding back whatsoever.

Anyone who was walking by his car could probably see and hear what's happening, and probably think he was murdering you. And they were right, he was absolutely obliterating your insides. But you didn't care, and neither did Rafe.

His breathing is heavy, matching the erratic rhythm of his hips, and he leans closer, his forehead resting against yours. His scent—a mix of saltwater, cologne, and something distinctly him—invades your senses, grounding you in the moment, making everything else disappear.

“Oh, my god I'm gonna—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, the tight knot in your stomach snaps and it feels like everything is still for a moment. You can't even hear yourself anymore, it feels like you were on a cloud as you cum around his cock.

A few more deep thrusts and he was spilling inside you, his own body shaking above you. His lips find yours in a sloppy and desperate kiss, his hips keeping you placed right beneath him. He doesn't pull out—no, he wouldn't even dare. He doesn't want to. Not yet, of course. You both just lay in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

“I missed you,” he finally whispers, his voice rough and edged with something almost like pain. His fingers tighten around your waist, as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and your heart stutters at the vulnerability laced in them.

For a moment, neither of you moves. His breath is warm against your skin, his presence overwhelming but somehow comforting, like a weight you didn’t know you needed. You want to say something, to respond, but the words get caught in your throat, tangled up in the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to consume you.

Instead, you reach up, your fingers grazing his jawline, feeling the stubble under your fingertips. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes—an acknowledgment of what you both know but can’t yet fully voice. His eyes close at the contact, and for a split second, the tension melts away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

Then his lips are on yours again, but this time it’s different. It’s slower, more deliberate, like he’s savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands trail up your sides, pulling you impossibly closer, and your body responds in kind, the need for him growing stronger with every kiss.

You lose yourself in the feeling of him—how perfect he feels when he's inside of you, the heat of his skin, the way his fingers trace patterns along your back. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you in the darkness, tangled together in a way that feels both new and familiar at the same time.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, everything else fades away. The jealousy, the anger, the hurt—it all dissolves into the background, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, caught in a moment that you know you won’t soon forget.

You’ve been through hell with Rafe, and maybe there’s more waiting ahead, but right now, none of that matters. Right now, all you can think about is him—the way he touches you, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing that’s real.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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starvrse · 25 days ago

Text

TANGLED DESIRES

| pairing : kim minji x fem!reader

| summary : idfk ill update ts later

| warnings : g!p minji smut, drunk driving, aggressive (idk😭), skz hyunjin mention, ichillin yuju mention, minji calls u a bitch like once, not proofread, etc.

| unnecessary bs : like 3.5k words (ik guys it’s long, glaze me later 🙏😅)

minji stands in front of the mirror, thoroughly admiring her own reflection. she runs a hand confidently down the front of her costume, feeling the fabric cling perfectly to her form. a bold smirk spreads across her lips as she assesses her appearance, practically radiating self-assuredness. “fuck yeah,” she declares, “this is the one.” with a playful twist to the side, she checks her reflection from another angle, her eyes glinting with mischief. she knows she looks incredible, and it shows.

“you chose the most basic costume ever, watch there be like— 100 other spiderman’s at the party” you say, interrupting her as you walk next to her to adjust your own costume in the mirror.

“yeah but who else is gonna look as sexy as me?” minji responds, her eyes unbashedly wandering down your body, taking in your corpse bride costume.

you laugh lightly before responding, “me, obviously”

she raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “you think that tattered veil and that pale makeup can compete with this?” she gestures dramatically to her figure.

“oh girl please, i’m a bride, and you’re just…the friendly neighbor hero” you tease, making eye contact with her through the mirror.

“you’re so corny, just hurry up” minji replies as she steps outside to start her car up.

you giggle to yourself while quickly taking a few pictures before going outside to join your girlfriend in the car.

pulling up to the party, minji parks near some cars on a curb, and turns off the engine. she looks out at the house and can see the lights and hear the faint thump of music from inside. she takes a deep breath, steeling herself for the night ahead. she checks her appearance in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair and adjusting the spiderman mask on the top of her head.

glancing over at you in the passenger seat, watching intently as you apply your lipgloss. her eyes fixate on the way your lips move as you swipe the gloss over them. “are you ready?” she asks, licking her lips.

you smack your lips together, the gloss glistening under the soft glow of the streetlights, letting out a quick “mhm”

“alright then.” minji takes a moment before finally stepping out of the car, jogging to your side to open the door. as you both walk toward the house, she feels the cool night air wash over her, grounding her.

stepping inside the house, the music swells, enveloping you both in a vibrant atmosphere. people are mingling, laughter bubbling around you, a few even sleep.

minji hangs close, her gaze sweeping the crowd as she takes in the scene.

“look,” you say, pointing to a peter parker and miles morales standing next to each other. “just walked through the door and already spotted 2 spidermen”

the older girl shrugs and sucks her teeth, “yeah, but they don’t look better than me”

you lightly laugh at her response, “of course they don’t,” obviously no one could look better than your girlfriend. “anyways, wanna grab a drink?” you ask, pulling her attention back to you. “yeah,” minji replies, grabbing your hand.

as you make your way to the makeshift bar, she can’t help but notice how effortlessly others are drawn to you. a few friends greet you with enthusiastic hugs, and lots of “i love your costume!!” or “you’re so pretty!”

after a couple of shots, boredom starts to creep in.

“babe, let’s dance—” you begin, but a voice cuts you off.

“yoo, it’s emily!” turning toward the sound, you spot hyunjin, your acquaintance (you wouldn’t really consider him a friend) dressed in victor costume.

your mouth curls into a wide smile, and you can’t help but exclaim, “oh my god, victor!” you stand up from the chair, excitement bubbling inside you. “hey, I’ll be right back,” you say to minji, flashing her a quick grin before making your way over to hyunjin.

minji watches intently as you talk to hyunjin, the way he touches your shoulder, looks at your lips, and stares at you with hunger in his eyes. she notices it all.

pouring herself a cup of gin mixed with soda, she downs it as she continues watching your interaction with the boy. the latter couldn’t even lie, his costume next to yours looked perfect, people walking by definitely would’ve assumed he was your boyfriend. even she was regretting her choice of picking spiderman instead of matching with you.

twenty minutes tick by—though it feels like an eternity—and you’re still engrossed in conversation with him, barely glancing in your girlfriend’s direction. and at this point, she feels tipsy, and she knows that one more shot could push her over the edge.

just as she’s about to take that final shot, a girl saunters up to her in an all-black bodysuit, complete with a miniskirt, cat makeup, and playful cat ears.

how basic, minji thinks as she sizes up the newcomer.

“hi, spidey~” the girl says flirtatiously, sliding into the seat beside her. “uh, hi?” minji replies, raising an eyebrow.

“you seem pretty drunk, and who wants to be drunk and alone at a party?” the cat girl continues, her tone overly sweet.

“i’m not alone…” minji retorts, her voice flat.

“really? because i don’t see anyone next to you,” she pretends to look around before looking back in the taller girls eyes. “and honestly, i wouldn’t mind getting tangled up in your webs,” the girl purrs, her hand resting on minji’s bicep and giving it a squeeze. “i’m yeju…” she whispers, leaning in closer, her fingers trailing down to caress your girlfriend’s stomach, feeling her abs underneath the costume. “how about we get outta here, and go somewhere more priv-“

“how about you fuck off,” minji snaps, pushing the girl off her and downing her shot before standing up.

she storms over to you and hyunjin, her frustration bubbling as she sees his hands on your waist, his nose buried in your neck as you snap pictures together. it ignites something fierce inside her, and she grabs your arm, pulling you toward the door. “we’re going home,” she says in a monotone voice, desperately trying to mask her jealousy.

“minji, what the fuck?” you exclaim, stumbling slightly as she drags you. she ignores your protest, her grip tightening as she leads you to the car.

once at the vehicle, she swings open your door and gives you a gentle push into the passenger seat before making her way to the driver’s side. the tension hangs thick in the air, and minji can feel her heart racing as she prepares to confront the emotions swirling within her.

as she starts to drive, worry creeps in.

“babe?” you call out softly, hoping for a response.

silence hangs heavy in the air.

“minji, what’s wrong?” you try again, glancing at her profile, searching for any hint of what’s bothering her.

still no answer.

“minji, please talk to me so i can help!” you plead, your voice edged with concern.

the silence stretches on, each passing moment intensifying your anxiety.

finally, you decide to give up on the conversation for now. reaching for your wipes, you start wiping the makeup off your face, wanting to get it done before you step inside. it feels like a small act of normalcy amidst the tension, but your mind races with thoughts of how to bridge the gap between you.

after driving for a while, you finally pull up to your home.

minji gets out of the car with a grunt, slamming the door shut. “big headed bitch boy…” she mutters, stomping over to your side to open the door. but instead of closing it behind you, she just walks past and heads into the apartment, leaving you standing there, feeling a mix of confusion and worry.

once you step inside, she finally turns to you, her expression still tense. “go in the room,” she says, her voice firm and edged with frustration.

you nod at her request (demand) and quickly rush to the bedroom. as soon as the door closes behind you, you unzip your dress, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. the fabric falls away, and you start removing your accessories, the clinking of jewelry echoing in the silence.

your mind races as you try to process the tension from the car. you wonder what’s going through minji’s head, hoping you can figure it out before things escalate. taking a deep breath, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, trying to shake off the unease.

after a moment, you hear footsteps approaching the door, your heart pounding as you prepare for what’s next.

the raven haired girl steps in the room, her spiderman suit zipped down, only covering her bottom half, while a black sports bra covers her top.

you snake your eyes down her body, staring at her crotch area. you can see the outline of her thick, hard cock straining against the tight fabric of the costume.

she approaches you, slightly tripping over her own feet. minji can’t grasp how she managed to drive home safely while drunk; perhaps it was the adrenaline, but that rush is long gone now, and all she knows is that she’s mad and horny.

as you stand there, paralyzed by her intense gaze, you feel the heat of her breath against your lips. her pupils are dilated, almost completely concealing the iris. she cups your face in her manicured hands, her nails digging into your skin. and then, without warning, she pulls you closer, pressing her lips firmly against yours. the kiss is hungry, urgent, and demanding, as if she can't get enough of you.

tasting the tang of alcohol on her lips. she sucks gently on your tongue, eliciting a small moan from the back of your throat. Her hands slide into your hair, fingers tangling in the strands, tugging. the kiss is deep and hot, you find yourself losing yourself in the moment, forgetting everything else except the feeling of her mouth against yours.

you pull back, your labored breaths filling the space between the two of you. she takes a few moments to catch her own breath, eyes half lidded and lips plump from the kiss. almost immediately, she tries to lean in again, desperate for more, but you gently push her back. "wait," you murmur breathlessly, trying to keep your own desire under control. “slow down.”

the bear-like girl furrows her thick eyebrows at your words, wait? you’re telling her to wait?? and not only are you telling her to wait, you’re telling her to slow down.

she clenches her jaw, gripping a handful of your hair and pulling it to command you to your knees. “so you can whore yourself out to that boy, but you tell me to wait? i’m not waiting to have something that’s mine” she says, angrily.

you moan and wince slightly at the pain throbbing in your head. then, you feel your lover grab your jaw, forcing your mouth open. she holds your head, guiding your mouth around her clothed boner.

minji let’s out a low moan at the feeling of your mouth around her, deciding that she needs more, she pulls your head away, snickering at the wet spot your saliva left.

finally, pulling the suit down her legs, the tip of her cock peaks out from her boxers, red and angry with precum oozing out of it.

her underwear joins the discarded costume on the floor, and with a eager bounce, her rigid length springs upward, slapping against her toned stomach with an audible smack. she wraps her long fingers around her thick base, the digits barely meeting as she holds it steady, her heavy balls hanging low.

she gently taps your lips with her wet tip, painting them with her essence. “come on, stick your tongue out bitch.” she says in a husky whisper, her breath hot and heavy with her dazed eyes locked on to yours, daring you to disobey.

and just as she thought, you stick your tongue out. she hums in approval, a string of saliva drips from her parted lips, landing directly onto your waiting tongue.

as the saliva slides down your throat, you feel a thrill of submission mixed with the rush of her approval. her smirk grows wider, and her eyes gleam with satisfaction. without hesitation, she guides the swollen head of her cock past your lips, the velvety skin gliding smoothly into your mouth.

you wrap your lips around the thick shaft, your mouth stretching to accommodate her girth. she starts to thrust slowly, pushing her dick deeper with each movement. the salty precum coats your tongue, and you swallow it eagerly, desperate to please her.

she moans lowly at the feeling, but it’s not enough for her. she needs more. the images of you and hyunjin at the party start playing in her mind, getting more upset, her pace quickens, hips snapping forward as she dives deeper into your mouth. the head of her arousal hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.

“f-fuck, relax your throat,” she demands, her voice hoarse with lust. she grabs your head with both hands, holding your mouth in place as she starts to fuck your face. her thick cock pistons in and out of your mouth at a furious pace, the sound of your gagging and choking filling the room.

tears stream down your face, un-removed mascara running in black streaks as she continues to thrust mercilessly. shes beyond caring about being gentle now. all that matters is the heat of your mouth and the sounds of your distress. "look at me," she growls, tilting your chin up.

her eyes bore into yours, dark with desire and a hint of cruelty. she holds your gaze as she slams forward, burying her entire length down your throat. your nose presses against her pelvis, inhaling her musky scent. she grinds against your face, giving you no chance to breathe.

"shit m’ gonna cum—y-you're gonna swallow it all," she pants, her voice tight with impending release. her movements grow erratic, hips bucking forward as she buries herself balls-deep once more. with a final cry, she comes, pulsing warmth filling your mouth as she unloads onto your tongue.

she holds your head in place, forcing you to gulp down every drop of her thick, salty release. tears and drool run down your chin as you struggle to swallow it all. finally, she pulls out, leaving you gasping for air. a string of cum connects your lips to her softening cock.

breathless and spent, she leans against the wall for support. her chest heaves as she looks down at you, your face a mess of tears, saliva, and her seed. she smirks, getting hard again at the sight. “you look so pretty baby,” she says, kissing you, tasting herself on your plump lips. “i’d like to see that assholes reaction when he sees your face covered in my nut.”

she reaches down and cups your mons, finding your core drenched. she hums appreciatively, "looks like someone enjoyed that." her fingers slip between your folds, easily gliding through your slick heat.

her touch is gentle yet firm, her fingers slowly circling your entrance before slowly pushing inside. you gasp, back arching, as she slowly pumps her hand, crooking her fingers to hit that spot deep inside you. your hands grasp her shoulders, nails digging in as she continues to toy with you.

“minji— i’m gonna-“ just as you were about to release on her fingers, she pulls her hand back. “not yet," minji whispers, a wicked grin spreading across her face. she stands up, holding her hand up to her mouth and licking your juices clean. you let out a frustrated whine, legs trembling as you try to hold yourself together.

“get on the bed.“ minji urges, helping you up from the floor. “lie down, spread your legs, and keep them spread," she commands, her voice low and authoritative. you quickly comply, crawling onto the bed and lying down, your legs spread wide, baring yourself to her.

climbing onto the bed and positioning herself between your spread thighs. her hands grip your hips possessively, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. her thick, veined member pulsed in her hand as she lined herself up with your entrance.

she slowly pushes forward. the thick head of her length spreads your folds, inching inside of you. her thick manhood stretching you open.

you grip the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white as she slowly pushes into you. the sensation bordering on pain. "minji— it's too much—" you gasp, back arching. she leans down, kissing and biting your neck softly.

"shh, you can take it," minji coos encouragingly. she gives a final thrust, burying herself to the hilt inside you. you moan loudly, your fingers digging into her back. she pauses, letting you adjust to her size before slowly pulling out and thrusting back in.

she sets a steady rhythm, her hips snapping forward as she buries herself inside you over and over. with each thrust, she hits that spot deep inside, making your eyes roll back and your words slur into unintelligible moans. "min— it's— it's too—"

"—It's too good?" minji finishes for you, her voice low and taunting. "well, take it. show me how well you can take it." her pace quickens, her breath growing ragged as she pounds into you.

“holy shit—you’re always so tight-“ she loops one arm under your knee and lifts your leg up, placing it over her shoulder. the new angle allows her to delve even deeper, each thrust now hitting that spot with unrelenting precision.

“please— so deep!" you beg, your voice barely a whisper.

minji ignores your pleas, continuing to fuck into you with reckless abandon. her thick member splits you open, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. she leans forward, her arm tightening around your leg as she uses it to pull you further onto her length with every thrust.

"f-fuckk— oh god— it’s too much—“ "shut the fuck up with all that complaining, yn. just take it." her pace quickens, her thrusts becoming almost punishing. the sound of your moans and the headboard slamming against the wall could probably be heard by the whole apartment complex.

the girl reaches between your bodies, her calloused fingers finding your sensitive clit. she rubs tight circles around it, the added stimulation making your inner walls clench around her throbbing shaft. "fuck, you're so tight. gonna make you cum on my cock,"

you let out a high pitched moan as your orgasm crashes over you. your back arches off the bed, and eyes roll back as your walls spasm and clench around her throbbing member.

but, instead of pausing to let you ride out your release, minji continues her relentless pace, chasing her own high. her dick plows in and out of you, drawing out your pleasure but also making it almost painful.

"minji— please— it's— it’s too much— I’m too sensitive” your voice shakes as your body is wracked with aftershocks. her fingers still moving against your swollen bud, prolonging the overwhelming sensation.

"come on, yn. just a little longer for me, baby. i'm almost done," minji pants, her hips starting to stutter as she nears her peak.

with a final, powerful thrust, minji buries herself to the hilt and lets out a guttural moan. "yn..." her voice trails off into a series of incoherent grunts and pants as her own release consumes her, her hips jerking as she spills warmth inside you.

the sensation of her hot release flooding your insides proves to be the final push. your back bows off the bed as another intense orgasm rips through you, your inner walls milking her cock for every last drop. your mouth remains open in a silent scream of ecstasy.

after taking some moments to calm down, minji slowly pulls out, her softening member slipping from your sensitive folds. fingers trace your trembling thigh almost tenderly. "you did so good for me, love," she murmurs, a note of praise and satisfaction in her voice.

the loss of her warmth and the gentle stretch makes you whimper, your hips hitching forward as if trying to follow her. "m-minji..." your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse from the overwhelming amount of stimulation.

you reach back blindly, trying to pull her closer once more. your body is oversensitive, your mind hazy with aftershocks. she chuckles darkly and obliges, her strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against her.

"just relax... i've got you..." her voice is low and soothing, her touch gentle as she strokes your skin.

minji's hands continue their soothing path over your skin, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other traces idle patterns on your hip. She presses soft kisses along your shoulder and the side of your neck. "my perfect girl..." she murmurs against your skin. “so good for me”

your breathing slows and deepens, your body relaxing completely in your lovers embrace. "i'm sleepy..." you mumbled, burrowing back against her. she tightens her arms around you protectively. "then sleep, my love. you've earned it..."

she wraps herself around you like a warm blanket. she kisses the top of your head softly before settling in to hold you close, her own breathing slowly evening out as she drifts off to sleep alongside you.

this was for halloween but i’m like late asf 😭😭 alr now that you’ve read it all you can glaze me 😅

#starvrse #minji x reader #minji smut #newjeans minji #kim minji #g!p #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #wlw fanfic #halloween #g!p minji

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headlinerkwan · 5 months ago

Text

for us - c.sc

pairing - bestfriend!seungcheol x gn!reader

genre - nonidol!au, f2l, fluff, comfort, a bit of angst, knightinshiningarmour!seungcheol, reader and seungcheol are whipped for each other but too dumb to realise.

summary - waking up the next morning in your childhood home, unanswered questions and glances that last a little too long leave you questioning your feelings for your best friend.

warnings - profanity, discussions of mental health

wc: 2.2k

a/n - this is part two of my fic 'for now'. i recommend reading part one first!! lmk what you think about part 2 (ᵔ.ᵔ)

requests: open <33

taglist - open!! comment or send an ask to be added ✩

You wake up the next morning to the golden sunlight streaming through your window, kissing your skin warmly. Your childhood bedroom smells like a bittersweet blend of home and naive dreams, it is a place that you’ve both longed for and loathed since you became an adult- wait. Your childhood bedroom…the events of last night come flooding back to you… shit.

Sitting up quickly you look around your empty room.

Where the fuck is Seungcheol?

Feeling disorientated at best, you decide that following the soft music playing in the kitchen would probably give you the best chance of finding him or, at least, gaining some sort of clarity. Your foggy morning brain leads you into your parents lounge, the soft glow of a lamp inviting you into the room.

That's where you find him, sitting comfortably on the couch, reading one of your father’s books like this is his home, like this is the most natural thing he’s ever done. His hair is a perfect mess, red undertones from past dye jobs revealing itself under the light, flowing perfectly as he runs his hand through his hair and his bare face glows under the morning sun. You think you could watch him all day if he’d let you.

“Y/Nnie” he calls, leaping to his feet with the sweetest smile adorning his face. God, how can someone be so-

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, you don’t even get the chance to answer him before his arms are wrapping around you, bringing you against his chest as his face finds solace in the crook of your neck. Whilst his sudden embrace takes you by surprise at first, your heart jumping, you can't help but melt into him, his warmth enveloping you and his cologne calming your nerves immediately. The way your bodies are intertwined it's difficult not to think that maybe…just maybe, you and Seungcheol are made for eachother - two halves making a whole.

After a beat of comfortable silence, you gently lift your head away from him. “Cheol..” you whisper, he responds with a mumbled confirmation that he’s listening, “...I’m sorry”.

He lifts his head rapidly then, concern painted across his face as his eyes meet yours. “Why? What do you have to be sorry about sweet?”. His arms are still wrapped around you, his thumb gently caressing your forearm as you stare up at him, tears welling quietly in your eyes.

“That you’re here. That you drove here, through the night, just because I was-”

He cuts you off.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I promise. This is nothing, I’ll do this a thousand times, I’ll do anything for you. You know that right?”

Despite your guilt, you can’t help but smile at him, his words so sincere, his eyes so full of love. You nod slowly, of course you know - you’d do the same for him, and he pulls you back into an embrace, holding you against his chest as he kisses your head softly before resting his head on top of yours.

“Why?” you question after a while, your words muffled slightly against the fabric of his t-shirt. You feel him take a deep breath, preparing his response.

“Because…”

“Because what?”

“I’ll tell you later sweet, can we just… stay like this for a while” he says quietly, holding you tighter in his warm embrace.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Seungcheol's POV

He could stay like this forever. You in his arms, sweet and delicate, he can’t shake the feeling that this is where he’s meant to be - by your side. Of course he would drive through the night for you, he thinks, of course he would carry you to your bed, of course he would sleep on your bedroom floor in case you needed him because well… he loved you.

He’d loved you for three years, he’d shown you in every way he could think of, except through words. He could never quite bring himself to tell you. He had tried, God had he tried, but the words were always caught in his throat, the fear of the unknown silencing him from telling you the truth. Everything in him wanted to tell you, wanted to shout from the rooftops that he loves you, that you’re beautiful.

That you’re everything to him.

To him, you are the sun, the rain, the clouds. To him, you are a gentle spring breeze, a late summer sunset, you are fresh coffee in the morning and a warm meal at dinner. To him, you are everything good in the world, big and small. You are his favourite song, his favourite place, his best memory, his future.

But how could he tell you? How can he put into words everything that you are? And if he does? If he does and it ruins your friendship? If he does and he loses you? If he does and you love him too? What then?

He takes a deep breath and decides to try and forget about it for now. His problems are not important right now - you are.

“So sweet, are you gonna give me the exclusive Y/N tour of your hometown or are you gonna leave me looking for breakfast like a lost puppy?”

His heart is happy as you chuckle lightly against his chest, looking at him with your doe eyes before grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

The day you spend together walking around your hometown can be described as nothing less than happy. You had mentioned before leaving about the small size of your sleepy town, that there wasn’t really much to do but it’s clear that doesn’t matter as you and Seungcheol fill the hours with conversation, laughs and smiles. It’s easy with him, comfortable, smooth, but still exciting. Maybe it’s too easy because, before you realise it, the sun is setting over the town square.

“Should we head back soon?” Seungcheol asks, his brown eyes are golden caramel in the sunlight, the breeze flowing gently through his hair. You reach up cautiously to move some of the hair out of his eyes, unsure of how he will react but, his eyes flutter shut as he smiles gently, an expression of gratitude. “Can we stay for a bit? Just until the sun goes down, it’s beautiful I promise” you plead. “Well if you say it’s beautiful then I guess I’ll have to check it out for myself” he replies cheekily, his mouth curling slightly.

Turning away from him to watch the sun, you freeze as he stands behind you, resting his head on your shoulder, and wrapping his arms around you. A million thoughts are running through your head, all of them about him, and your heart beats faster as he leans against you. But then, he takes your hand, interlocking your fingers with his, drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb and suddenly everything is quiet, peaceful. It’s just you and Seungcheol and everything is okay.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

The sun has almost disappeared behind the horizon by the time you find the courage to ask him if he’ll answer your question from this morning.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to” you reassure him, “It’s just that, I don’t know, sometimes I can’t help but wonder what goes on in your mind. I can see it in your face that look you get when you’re stressed or thinking too hard and… I just want to be there and help you with it but if I don’t know then I-”

“I love you” He replies nonchalantly. It takes you off guard but it’s nothing new, friends tell each other that they love each other everyday.

You chuckle as you reply, still watching the sunset “I love you too but-”

“No Y/N, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He states, taking a deep breath.

You feel your stomach flip at your best friend’s words. What the fuck? Surely you didn’t hear that right. There’s no way Seungcheol loves you. Not in that way. Not in the way that you love him. Right?

You turn around to face him, his hands still sitting carefully on your waist. “Sorry, what?” you question, a nervous shake in your voice whilst you search his eyes for answers.

“I’m in love with you.” He says with soft eyes, biting his cherry lips as he attempts to read your body language, “I think I’ve loved you since that first week, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, I didn’t know then, I just knew I had to know you, I needed you in my life.”

You can hardly believe the words leaving his mouth, you can hardly believe it’s him stood before you, you can hardly believe he loves you.

“Seungcheol.” you mutter gently as he nervously rambles. He pauses, eyes scanning your face for anything that will tell him what you’re thinking, nothing.

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.”

You move closer to him, closing the gap between you, your faces millimetres apart. His features are illuminated by the glow of twilight as you meet his eyes. You inhale sharply as he hesitantly lifts his hand to gently caress your face. “Okay” he whispers, his breath tickling your lips gently.

Your eyes flick between his gentle eyes and full lips one last time before your mouths crash into each other. It’s cautious at first, nervous, but you gradually find a gentle rhythm. His free hand finds your lower back, bringing you as close as possible to him as your arms rest on his shoulders. His soft lips kiss you back like you are the most delicate thing in the universe, he tastes sweet and warm. This is something you didn’t know you needed but now that you have it, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to live without it, without him.

Soon gentle kisses become driven by passion, you are both hungry as you chase the other for more, for closeness, for love. As your fingers tangle slightly in his hair, he nips your bottom lip gently before kissing away the delicious pain and falling back into your new rhythm with roaming hands and heavy breath.

It is only when a car alarm blares nearby that the two of you are thrown back into reality. Seungcheol leans his forehead against yours as you giggle. He takes your hands, not daring to take his eyes off of you and places a gentle peck on your cheek. So many emotions are exchanged in every movement made; relief, happiness, nerves, excitement, love.

“The sun’s gone” you point out after a moment. Seungcheol nods, he knows it’s time for both of you to go back to the city but he sure as hell is not going to be the one to take either of you out of this moment.

A comfortable silence falls over you whilst you watch people mill around your town’s square, some you recognise as old acquaintances, teachers, coworkers. You think about potential inside jokes you may have had with them or any fun facts about them but to no avail, the people of your hometown have become ghosts, lost to the past. So you stand with Seungcheol and just watch, his hand finds yours and you lean your head against his shoulder.

You stand watching your past, hand-in-hand with your future.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

You are stood next to Seungcheol’s car waiting for him to unlock it so you can load in a bag of food your mother had given to you. He appears from around the corner, car keys in hand, running towards you just like he had on the night of the carnival, with bright eyes and a wide grin. Except this time it was different. This time you knew what that look meant, he wasn’t just happy to see his friend, he was happy to see you - the person he loved.

Placing the bags into the back of his car, you make an exaggerated show of strength, huffing and heaving as you lift the light bags onto the back seat before walking towards the passenger seat, flexing your biceps as you feign exhaustion.

Opening the door for you, Seungcheol laughs at your dramatics, “You’re so weird”.

As he climbs into the driver’s seat and closes the door, you pout at him, pretending to be upset at his comment. “Wowww, that’s so mean! Damn, and I thought you loved me.” you remark as you jokingly shake your head.

He giggles and takes your hand, turning to look at you. “Sooo dramatic! You’re the good kind of weird, don’t worry sweet." You chuckle quietly and squeeze his hand in response.

After a beat, you speak up again.

“I might be the bad kind of weird too. Is that okay?”

There is a heaviness in your voice that makes him frown slightly and, when your eyes avoid his, he places his hand on your jaw, soft eyes finding yours.

“I love all your weird” He says gently “I’ll take as much of you as I can get, the good and the bad.” Scanning your face he adds “For you, anything, always.”

He places chaste kisses all over your face until you’re smiling again, pulling him to meet your lips this time, he smiles into you and, with his sweet lips against yours, you are at peace.

For us, anything, always.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

taglist:@caaaptaaainamericaaa @gyuguys

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taesancult · 11 months ago

Text

leehan + fingering

a/n: his hands are pretty. that’s it. that’s all i have to say.

warnings: inexperienced!reader, fem!reader, leehan is slightly inexperienced, fingering ofc, making out/bit of spit, dirty talk, bit of a praise kink, some insecurity/worrying, use of the names baby, pretty girl, my girl, and princess (again i went overboard… this is kinda graphic & way too long)

SMUT UNDER THE CUT. MDNI.

when you first started dating, you told leehan upfront that you hadn’t really explored your sexuality. when you brought up intimacy with him, he also shared that he didn’t have ton of experience either, making your heart calm down a bit. him being him, he was so kind and understanding. he never pressured you, never made you feel like you had to have sex at any point. he was willing to wait for your comfort, telling you that he doesn’t mind at all to be patient and that the ball is in your court. he wanted you to initiate things, so that he knew it was what you really wanted. that whole conversation was basically just him showing off how much of a green flag man he is, and again, you felt that same sense of relief.

to this day, you still haven’t really done anything with him besides making out. you wanted him, of course you did. your heart yearned for him, you wanted to make him feel good. you wanted to see what he looks like when he’s overcome with pleasure. you wanted to hear the sounds he makes caused by your body, your hands, your mouth. your nerves just got in the way of things, until today.

you were riled up all day, not knowing how to handle yourself. you kept thinking about what it would feel like to finally have leehan inside you; the sounds, the sensations, the love that would be shared. you two spent the day together and it seemed like everything he did somehow turned you on. you especially felt like his hands were making you go crazy. your boyfriend had the prettiest hands ever. you wondered what it would feel like to have them inside you, sliding in and out while he watches you, hopefully praising you. god, you knew it would feel so good to get praised by him. have him tell you how pretty you look when you fall apart-

“baby, are you doing okay? you seem like you’ve been out of it?” he asked you as you two sat on the couch together. you completely zoned out while thinking about him. “yeah- i’m fine, just a little bit stressed i think?” you responded, to which he pouted slightly while thinking for a moment. his eyes lit up as if something clicked and he looked at you with a sweet smile before saying, “how about we go on a night drive? we can talk and you can tell me everything that’s on your mind?” you nodded in agreement, but were freaking out on the inside. the thought of being in such a closed space with him made your heart rate go up.

you drove around a bit, before finding a nice parking lot that was pretty much empty. you put the car in park, while keeping it on so you could have some chill music softly playing in the background. you sat there in silence for a moment, before he broke it by asking “wanna get in the back?” you nodded as you both climbed in the back, but you made sure you were sitting as far from him as possible.

“what’s wrong? did i do something?” he asked you as he noticed immediately the distance you put between the two of you. he never misses anything. “no! i promise it’s not you- i’m just stressed.” he looked at you for a bit, noticing how you refused to make eye contact with him, before asking “but why are you so stressed?” you took a big deep breath in, feeling as though you should just be honest about the fact that your body craved him. fuck it, might as well spit it out before he starts to worry that he did something wrong.

“it’s just embarrassing- but… i haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all day.” you admitted as your cheeks started heating up. he smiled at you, “but i’m right here? why would you be thinking about me?” he asked in sincerity. you couldn’t believe he didn’t get the hint at first, maybe he just thought you were so innocent that sex wasn’t really on your mind or something. you sighed in defeat, “leehan, i can’t stop thinking about your hands. i’m curious, i guess? i mean if it’s okay-“ he interrupted you, knowing you were about to go on a tangent, “what? that’s not embarrassing at all. it’s natural to want your lover.” he said in a gentle, but deep voice. god, even his voice was enough to make your pussy leak. “can we… maybe do something?” you asked as you hid behind your hands, feeling your face get even warmer. he scooted over to get closer to you. he moved your hands away so he could see you, and he had a soft smile on his lips as he asked “yes. are you sure, though?” you nodded enthusiastically, feeling like your body was on fire with how much you needed him.

“just relax for me, pretty girl.” he whispered as he got even closer to you, kissing your forehead, closing the space between you two. his soft, full lips melted into yours as he kissed you with such passionate. just the feeling of his lips on yours was enough to have your head spinning and your insides doing somersaults. his tongue made its way into your mouth, playing with your own. his hand pushed back a few strands of your hair behind your ear, then started caressing your cheek. you broke the kiss, both of you out of breath, before you whispered “more” to him. you attacked his own lips with yours; this kiss was much messier and full of desperation. you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling him close to you. he broke the kiss, a bit of saliva still connecting the two of you. “gonna take such good care of you.” he said as he gave you another soft kiss then started kissing your neck, nipping at your soft skin, making you moan out. “leehan, please, i need you” you whined as you felt like if he didn’t touch you, you might combust.

“so needy. what am i gonna do with you?” he laughed lightly as he pulled back to look at you. “you’re so beautiful… can i take care of you?” he asked as he gestured to your bottoms. you quickly nodded your head and even started to take off your bottoms for him, making him chuckle at how eager you were. he gently moved your hands, wanting to do it for you, and he took them off so you were only in your panties. he took a deep breath in as he was able to see the big wet patch. “so wet already, you must have been aching for me, huh?” he questioned, and once again you nodded with a “mhmm” as a response. he brought his hand to your clothed cunt, his index finger just barely traced the wet spot, making you flinch. he barely touched you and your body was already so sensitive. the way you flinched made your body start to heat up, getting embarrassed at how needy you must seem. “s-sorry about that…” you apologized with your head down. he immediately picked your chin up, so you were looking directly at him. “you’re okay, princess, gonna make you feel so good.” he said as he looked at you with a sudden look of concentration. “can i take your panties off?” he asked as he started circling the large wet spot again, and smirked as you immediately let out a breathless “yes.”

he practically ripped your panties off your body, staring at your now fully exposed pussy. he went in for another kiss, then asked “can i touch you?” “i think i’ll die if you don’t” you admitted to him, causing him to laugh. he took his index and middle fingers into his mouth, making sure to coat them well before taking them out. you felt yourself clench around nothing as you watched him do probably the hottest thing you have ever seen someone do, and he must have noticed as he asked you “like what you see?” he raised his eyebrow. you were going to answer before he took his two fingers, gliding them between your folds.

you were so sensitive, you let out a moan as this sensation was completely new to you. just the feeling of his fingers sliding between your soaking folds felt like electricity was coursing through your body. he focused on only using his middle finger, swirling it along your clit. you felt butterflies in your stomach and felt a fire in your tummy as you whined for him to just enter you already. he smirked, making his way down to your entrance, slowly pushing into the opening. he took his time, not pumping his fingers just yet, he wanted you to really feel it. he wanted you to be comfortable. shortly after, he slowly started moving in and out.

you whimpered at the feeling as this was something you had never experienced before, you didn’t want to be too much so you were trying so hard to contain yourself. “you’re so pretty like this, trying so hard to keep it together. i can tell, you know?” he said as he continued easing his middle finger in and out of your soaking cunt. “f-feels good, but is embarrassing” you said, which just motivated him to start going faster. “it’s not, i want you to let go and give me everything.” he said as he started curling his finger up, gently hitting that one extra sensitive spot in your body. you threw your head back, the feeling becoming too much, and gave into his wishes. “f-fuck leehan.” you moaned out. “that’s it, let me hear those pretty moans.” he encouraged you as he kept fucking you with his finger. “want me to add another?” he asked as he thought he could make you feel even better. “mhmm,” you whimpered out as he added a second finger. his pace slowed, making sure you experienced not a single ounce of discomfort, until you grabbed onto his wrist. “don’t- um… don’t go slow…” you told him, getting a look of surprise from him in response, which quickly turned into a grin.

he started picking up the pace, sliding his fingers in and out quickly, but not too quickly. you couldn’t hold back your moans, it was all too much. a wet sound started to fill the entire car and you covered your face with your hands again out of embarrassment. “what’s wrong?” he asked and you just whined out, “sounds so embarrassing.” “i promise, it’s not, here, feel.” he assured you by taking one of your hands and putting it on his hard cock. “it’s making me so hard, seeing my girl like this.” he said as he continued focusing on you, you softly squeezed his cock in his pants, causing him to pause for a split second. he took a sharp breath in and went back to you, this caused you to become curious. you started pawing at his pants, noticing a similar wet spot like the one you had just moments ago. he curled his fingers upwards, hitting that spot again to distract you from his cock. he wanted you to cum before all else and he was more than determined to make that happen.

you clawed at his bicep, clinging onto it as you fell victim to his hand. you felt a weird tingling sensation in your belly, you’ve felt it before when you touch yourself. however, it felt different this time, as if it were 10x more intense. “l-leehan-fuck!” you cried out as his thumb started rubbing at your clit. “close? is my pretty girl going to cum for me?” he said as he continued fucking you with his fingers. “yes! gonna cum so hard for you.” you told him, not even phased anymore as those words left your mouth. “yeah, princess? is your cute little pussy gonna gush for me?” you felt that same electric feeling like your nerves were slowly being set alight one by one. “yes! yes! just keep going, please” you rambled on as you were right there on the edge. he came close to your ear, whispering to you in that heavenly deep voice of his, “i’m so proud of you, my good girl.” that was it, that statement alone caused you to fall apart immediately. your orgasm hitting you so hard you could barely breath. you cried out his name, your back arching as he rode you through the euphoria.

“that’s it, feels good right?” he smiled at you as he watched you come down from the most intense high you’ve ever experienced. you could only nod at him, feeling your eyes become heavy. he slowly took his fingers out, making sure to lick up all your essence with not a drop left behind. the sight caused a shiver to run up your spine. he grabbed your discarded clothes, dressing you with care. “you feel okay?” he said as he kissed your forehead. “do i feel okay? i feel like so good i can’t think right now, that was insane.” you admitted and he went in to kiss you. his lips against yours were much softer as if he was trying to tell you just how much he loved you through it.

once your brain cleared up, you realized he was probably still hard. “can i touch you?” you asked with a pout. “don’t worry about it tonight, baby, we have all the time in the world for that.” he said as he grabbed you in for a hug. “i love you. thank you for letting me make you feel good and trusting me.” he said as he wrapped a secure arm around your body. you felt your heart explode in your chest at his sweet words. “i-i love you too, you’re so special to me.” he smiled at your words, and squeezed you tighter. “so let’s talk about that praise kink of yours-“ “my WHAT?”

you spent the rest of your night in each other’s arms. you talked about anything and everything. it wasn’t awkward after like you expected it to be, in fact, you felt even closer to him. it was such a sweet, but extremely sexy, experience and you were happy you got to have it with him. you went to bed that night in his arms, feeling extra loved and extra satisfied.

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