#thanks for sending this! i hope you like it

[rafesangelita]

♡ just dilf!rafe making sure everything is to his liking when his precious little bunny comes home from all of her beauty appointments!

warnings: fluff, bunny being a lil clingy, suggestive language, use of the nickname ‘daddy’ (pls scroll if it’s not for you), heavy petting, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), praise, finger sucking, slight overstimulation

a/n: i recently got all of my beauty appointments done so this felt fitting lol. read more of dilf!rafe x bunny!reader here <3

wc: 1.4k

while rafe never let you step out of the house by yourself, there was very few instances when he did. going out with your girlfriends and paying for all of your appointments was one of those things, and he didn’t mind in the slightest. the day would start very early in the morning so that you’d have enough time to get everything done. rafe would watch you from the front door as you basically hopped down the driveway in excitement before getting into your best friend’s obnoxiously pink car, your lip gloss still sparkling on his lips from when you kissed him before leaving.

maybe it was the father instinct inside of him, but rafe made it a point to always pay for you and your besties meals, the idea of you going hungry or having an empty stomach just not sitting right with him. you and your friends would start the day by knocking out whatever took the longest, so that all of you could breeze through the extra upkeep and still go shopping afterwards. despite rafe tracking your location and checking where you were at religiously, he still wanted you to text him and send him photos and updates throughout the day.

he’d smile down at his phone whenever your contact name, which you came up with by yourself, would pop up on his screen.

[1:15 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: i miss you sooo much already daddy. thank you for the food it was yummy <3 me and the girls still have a handful of things to do but i’m hoping to be done soon!!

[2:57 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: i think you’re going to reallyyy like the color of my nails!! my toes came out super cute too 🎀

[4:03 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: (1 attached image) look at this pink flatiron at the salon! i need one just like this! pretty pleaseeee!

he’d reply to each message, even going ahead and buying that flatiron with overnight delivery so you could have it in your pretty hands in no time. you two would go on like this until you’d finally send him that ‘on my way!’ text, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. as much as he liked for you to have your girl time, he selfishly wanted to have you all to himself more than anything. rafe had already been anticipating your arrival, your favorite candles already lit up upstairs in his bedroom. it wasn’t long before he heard the faint bump of music outside, your playful yelp sounding from down the driveway as you struggled to carry all of your shopping bags.

rafe was quick to help you out, your best friends teasingly telling him hi as he briefly waved at them before guiding you inside. “oh, i missed you!” you didn’t waste any time in throwing your arms around his neck, the scent of sweet vanilla filling up his senses. you clung to him like a koala, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he made his way upstairs. “yeah? i missed you more.” you breathed him in, smiling softly against his chest as he put your bags down on the chair he had in the corner. “everything go good?” he took a seat at the edge of the bed, resting his hands on the soft globes of your ass.

“mhmm!” you nodded, “i’m happy with how everything came out.” rafe pecked your lips before helping you up on your feet. “let me get a good look at you.” standing up, you couldn’t help but feel shy as he scanned over your figure agonizingly slow. “your hair looks real nice, baby, that style suits you.” your cheeks heated at the simple compliment. “wow look at your lashes, ‘you try out a different lash map?” you gasped softly, hitting his shoulder playfully. “look at you using girly terms!” rafe was bound to learn about the stuff you’d be rambling on and on about, your lashes being one of many things he now knew the intricacies of.

“your eyebrow lady did a real good job, too.” you wiggled your brows suggestively, fluttering your lashes at him while he took your hand in his. “you were right, i absolutely love this color on you,” he took in the pinky nude of your manicure, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, “let me see those toes.” you giggled, bringing your foot to his lap as you held onto his arms for leverage. “wow, you got a bow charm?” you smiled down at the sight, “yes! isn’t it so cute? she even put on some rhinestones for free because i’m a regular!” rafe massaged the back of your calf, guiding you back down on the bed.

“damn, bunny, and your skin is so soft, you got that full body wax?” you welcomed him between your thighs, running your freshly manicured nail down the side of his jaw. “yes, i know how much you like it..” he kissed you deeply, his lower half grinding down on where you needed him most. you couldn’t help the whine from leaving your lips, your glazed orbs shining with something mischievous. “do you want to see how that came out, too?” rafe smiled, his fingers already hooking between your skirt and the waistband of your panties. “yeah? you gonna let daddy inspect you?”

once your clothes were off and forgotten about on the floor, rafe took your thighs and spread them open to expose your bare cunt, the look on his face making you take your bottom lip between your teeth. “fuck,” he marveled, “you’re just so pretty, you know that?” you smiled, melting under his gentle touch. he looked up at you as if to ask ‘can i?’ before you nodded. rafe sat back on his heels, stroking your glistening folds as you writhed with desire. “i need to be inside of you so bad..” oh, how bad you needed that too. “rafe, we can’t have sex for at least a full twenty-four hours.” you pouted.

“but we did it last time.” you giggled, shaking your head. “i know, but i’m so sensitive..” rafe sighed, leaning down so he could whisper against your lips. “would a little touching hurt, though?” you gasped when he slipped a digit inside your entrance, his long digit filling you just right. with the pad of his thumb, he began rubbing hard circles on your clit, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “you’re so perfect, always dressing and getting dolled up the way i want you to.” he curled his finger, nudging that soft spot inside of you that made you see stars.

your back arched softly off of the bed, your fingers intertwining with his own. he kept his eyes on your trembling form, your mouth falling open as moans and whimpers fell from your lips. “i’m so close, ray..” the man above you lowered his head between your thighs, popping his digits into your mouth so you could taste yourself on his fingers. “so soft and smooth, i could eat this cunt for days.” you cried out loud when you felt his tongue prod at your opening, the tip of his nose finding your sensitive bud. “fuckkk!” you covered your mouth at the slip up, yelping when you felt rafe pinch your inner thigh.

“what have i told you about cussing?” he groaned, pulling away from your soaked pussy before diving back in again, your hands shooting up to cup your tits. rafe watched your face carefully, the rise and fall of your chest being a telltale sign that you were going to finish soon. you felt the familar heat begin to simmer in your tummy, your thighs threatening to snap shut as the coil in your stomach got tighter and tighter with every stroke of rafe’s tongue. “oh, my god!” your eyes rolled back when the band in your tummy finally snapped, your orgasm hitting you in waves of pure bliss.

your breath shook as you thrashed against rafe’s mouth, your thighs locking around his head as he pinned you down by your hips. your mouth opened but no sound, except for a pathetic shriek came out, your hands fighting rafe off in an attempt to pull away from him. that only made him grip you tighter, his tongue working relentlessly on your poor cunt. it wasn’t until you tapped out, your nails digging into rafe’s arm before he gave you a final kiss, his gentle hands massaging into the skin of your calves. you whimpered as rafe helped you come down from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your vision hazy.

rafe licked his lips clean, palming at the hard-on in his boxers. “how about just the tip?” all it took was one blissful glance at him through your lashes before he was yanking you towards the edge of his bed by your ankles.

[aajjks]

Wifey and Groceries (m)

synopsis. Another day, another shenanigan. Going grocery shopping with your nightmare of a roommate who really wants to fuck you, can’t be that much of a struggle, can it?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: crack, 18+

warnings: grôcêry stôre shênânîgâns, flïrty jungkôôk, ôbsêssêd jungkôôk, tsûndêrê yôû, împlîcît sêxûâl jôkês, ânnôyîng jungkôôk whô wôn’t stôp bâbyîng yôû, lïkè îf yôû thïnk lâûghîng îs flïrtîng.

note. I never imagined receiving so much love on stuff like this but thank you- thank you so much for sending so much love on stuck with you and loving our horny roommate jaykay so much. 😵‍💫🥺 so on high demand here is another part. If this flops like I’m expecting well- umm but anyways I hope you guys enjoy this but please share your thoughts and feedback and if this also becomes a hit, I will write another part and I will really make this a series!! ENJOY!

“Jungkook, I swear to God, put that back.”

What did you do so wrong in your past life to deserve this kind of torture in the human form of your roommate, Jeon Jungkook?

You cannot believe this.

You glare at the ridiculous amount of instant ramen he’s just dumped into the cart, your fingers gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles are white.

It’s the third time he’s done this, and you’re this close to losing it in the middle of the aisle.

“What? We’re gonna need it,” he says, all faux innocence, holding up one of the packs like it’s a sacred artifact. “You never know when there’s gonna be a ramen emergency.”

“There’s never going to be a ramen emergency, you idiot,” you snap, shoving the packs back onto the shelf. “Stop acting like a child.”

Jungkook gasps, clutching his chest like you’ve just mortally wounded him. “Wow. You’re so mean to me. Is this what married life is gonna be like?”

“Married life?” You look at him like he’s grown a second head. “We’re not even—why are you like this?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,”

he smirks, leaning casually on the cart. “We’re grocery shopping together, picking out ingredients for our future home-cooked meals. Pretty much married already.”

“Jungkook, I’m going to kill you.”

“Whoa, whoa, Mrs. Jeon, let’s not resort to violence,” he teases, pushing the cart forward as you glare at him. “Not when we’re still in our honeymoon phase.”

MRS JEON???? What the fuck is he barking about?

You shove the cart to a halt, ignoring the way he laughs at your frustration. “Stop calling me that. And stop putting random crap in the cart!”

“I’m not putting random crap in the cart.” He points to the giant stuffed bear sticking out of the basket. “This guy’s coming home with us. He’ll be perfect for our couch.”

“Jungkook, we don’t even have a couch.”

“Yet,” he says, grinning. “But when we do, he’s gonna look great. You’ll see.”

You groan, turning your back on him to grab the toothpaste you actually came for. But before you can even decide between mint or charcoal,

Jungkook sidles up behind you, way too close for comfort.

“Why are we even looking at toothpaste,” he murmurs, voice low, “when your smile’s already perfect?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious right now?”

“Always, babe.” He smirks, leaning casually against the shelf like he’s in a photoshoot. “You should get used to it. You’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with you?” You scoff, shoving the toothpaste into the cart. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t need to. You do it for me,” he fires back, trailing after you like a lost puppy as you head toward the produce section.

You ignore him, but it’s impossible when he suddenly grabs a cucumber and holds it up like a microphone.

“So, tell me,” he says, pretending to interview you, “what’s it like to be out grocery shopping with the man of your dreams?”

“Man of my nightmares, you mean,” you mutter, snatching the cucumber from his hand and tossing it into the cart.

“You wound me,” he says dramatically, clutching his chest like you’ve just shot him.

Then he grabs a pack of strawberries and holds it up.

“What about these? Strawberries for my sweetheart?”

“Your sweetheart isn’t here, Jungkook,” you deadpan.

He’s really testing your patience right now.

“Sure she is.” He winks, tossing the strawberries in the cart before you can protest.

By the time you reach the checkout line, your cart is a chaotic mix of actual groceries and Jungkook’s ridiculous additions, including the giant stuffed bear he refused to leave behind.

He’s a big man child.

As the cashier starts scanning your items, Jungkook casually drapes an arm around your shoulder.

“By the way,” he says, flashing his signature grin, “this is my girlfriend. Isn’t she pretty?”

Your brain short-circuits. “What—no, I’m not—;”

“She’s just shy,” Jungkook interrupts, squeezing your shoulder.

“But yeah, she’s the love of my life. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Why is your heart fluttering?

You slap his arm off you, your face burning as the cashier tries to hold back a laugh. “Jungkook, shut up.”

Just shut up before I shove my fist up your mouth.

He just laughs, that loud, obnoxious laugh that makes you want to scream and smile at the same time.

As you drag him out of the store, he’s still grinning like he’s just won the lottery. “Admit it,” he says, nudging your shoulder.

“You had fun.”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth betrays you, twitching up into a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable.”

He really is insufferable and you’re constantly suffering.

“And yet, here we are,” he teases, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Wanna grab ice cream on the way home, wifey?”

You groan, but you don’t shove him off this time.

[vivwritesfics]

Good luck quickie before a race 👀

18+ only!

pre race quickies weren't uncommon between the three of you. in the beginning it was just between you and lando, hidden in his drivers room. it was the only reason you were invited to races, you thought.

when oscar overheard the two of you, when he brought it up to lando, lando invited him along.

that was how you found yourself in this position, on your knees between them. oscar pushed his cock through your sopping wet cunt as you bobbed your head along lando's dick.

you moaned around him and lando bucked his hips up, nearly making you choke. your eyes watered, but neither man cared.

they were chasing their highs and using you to do so. you gripped lando's fireproofs as oscars pace became brutal. you were the only one not dressed, the only one naked.

oscar's head fell forward. your name fell from his lips like a prayer as he gripped your hips. you just hoped he would leave marks, evidence of how badly he wanted you.

lando gripped your hair. he thrust up into your mouth, moans spilling from his lips. it was such a beautiful sound. mixed with the sound of oscar's skin slapping against you own. if you could have recorded it and listened to it on a loop, you would have.

"i'm-"

it didn't take much more for oscar to cum, spilling inside of you. your eyes went wide as he slumped forward and pulled his dick from inside of you.

"nearly there, baby," lando said through a grunt. he had slowed down, savouring the feel of your lips against his cock. you blinked up at him, looking so pretty with your lips wrapped around him. you tried to move against him, but your energy was zapped.

when lando came, you swallowed what he could. lando wiped whatever spilled from your lips onto his thumb and placed it into your mouth. you hummed around him, sucking the cum from his finger.

"thank you, baby," lando said as he pulled his overalls up.

oscar stood up. he patted you affectionately and grabbed for a towel to attempt to clean you up. but time was running out and he would have to run for the national anthem. "we'll be back soon," he said and kissed you back.

the two of them ran out of lando's drivers room, leaving you blissed out and breathless.

a/n: send more i beg

[edenfenixblogs]

This is truly art because it elicits an emotional reaction. It’s a good example of art, because the emotion it elicits from me is extremely complex.

It reminds me of people with whom I’ve drifted apart for a variety of reasons in recent and more distant seasons of my life. I feel sorrow and nostalgia but also hope and love. And in some cases, disgust, which is reflected well in somewhat rotted appearance of the center.

It reminds me of the fragility of human connection in its thin, papery dried petals.

It makes me laugh in its simplicity and meme-like format. The modernity of the presentation with the timelessness of flowers with the inescapable past-tense of the dried and dead aspect is genuinely a little heartbreaking and very thought provoking. It reminds me that the things I’m feeling when I look at this are as ancient as they are present.

I feel guilt about how it makes me miss some people I wish I’d kept in touch with more. I feel shame and rage at how it makes me think of people I miss, because my memory recalls how it felt when things were good with them, despite knowing how toxic things had become by the end. I’m envious of that bit of memory that gets to remain Peter Pan in Never Neverland—never having to confront its future which is now my past. That part gets to be oblivious of the things that eroded trust and love enough to make that person a stranger.

It reminds me of non-human creatures I miss and yearn for—childhood pets, a beautiful hummingbird that used to linger outside my window, the wild creatures I saw on my drive through the country in fourth grade but that aren’t native to my area or anywhere I have lived, the fly to whom my preschool classmate gave a name and insisted was now a part of our friend group because she loved every living thing… The fly is long gone. But our friendship remains between that classmate and I. She is now my oldest friend, and her children are the age we were when we met.

It reminds me of lifeless objects and ideas filled with nostalgia—the orange VHS tapes of 1990s Nickelodeon movies, the smell of the fake raspberries in a spoon I used to feed my baby doll, the intoxicating scent of sunscreen and wet chlorine on my skin during summer days at the community pool, and the golden gold ball bookmark I would purposefully steal from my great grandfather’s books, making him lose his place. He always made a great show of being annoyed, because he really did lose his place. But he couldn’t stop smiling because I was a mastermind and my giggles infected him. I’ve lost him long ago. Sometimes my bookmarks fall out of my books at the most inconvenient times, and in my soul I know he is behind it and cackling from heaven. I listen mostly to audiobooks now and sometimes I feel myself drifting off to sleep when I listen to them in bed. But I always catch myself and turn the audio off and switch to podcasts. And I send a small silent prayer upwards to him “Not today, Grandpa. But I love you, too.”

I’m a writer. I’m good with words. I think words can be art. But I love visual art. I love that I can look at this image and see all of that. And that someone else can see an entirely different essay of inner monologue when they look at it.

There is a lie that struggle makes good art. But that’s not true. People with something to say make good art. These next few years will be hard. And your priority must be to take care of yourself and survive. But if you have things to say, whether through words or other art, please know that taking the time to say them is important. It’s important you release those thoughts and ideas, even if you don’t know how to articulate them in words. And it’s important you know that people like me are listening.

I love you. Thanks for the art.

[reiding-writing]

hi. I have been reading all your criminal minds stuff and I just LOVE IT!!! Anyway, my request is a cold!reader x Spencer, were reader gets hurt pretty badly (like veeeery badly) and he saves her. Keep writing, you got talent there!

CRACKED ICE — SPENCER REID!

a foot chase goes awry when a shot takes you down. spencer makes sure you’re alive enough to make it to the hospital.

spencer x cold reader | 2.4k | angst | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

WARNINGS | reader gets critically shot, unsub also gets shot but not badly, lots of blood mentions

a/n — thank you <333 i need to write more angst for this series i think

The air was thick with the scent of gasoline and rainwater, the streets slick with puddles reflecting the dim streetlights. Sirens wailed in the distance as your boots slapped against the wet pavement.

You were closing in on the unsub now, your breath ragged but controlled, each step pushing you further into the chaos that had erupted only moments ago. The rest of the team was scattered behind you, covering different angles, but you were in the lead.

“Team, status!” you barked into your comm as you rounded a corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of your target.

“No visual,” came JJ’s voice, breathless but steady. “He’s fast—too fast. We need to get him before he gets out.”

You glanced ahead. So many side streets, perfect for a man who knew the area. But you wouldn’t let him get away. Not this time.

“Keep looking,” you ordered, even as you sprinted forward, the adrenaline pumping faster than your legs could keep up with.

Without waiting for confirmation, you veered left, cutting through a narrow alley that wound its way between two old brick buildings. The sky overhead was clouded with the weight of an impending storm, and it was only a matter of time before the rain began to fall again.

Your fingers brushed the side of your gun, just a touch, ensuring it was secured in its holster. You couldn’t afford to hesitate.

The alley narrowed as you sprinted deeper, the sound of footsteps behind you fading as you focused on the task at hand. And then, just ahead, you spotted him.

The unsub.

A tall, lanky figure darted from one shadow to the next, the barrel of a gun glinting briefly as he moved. You had to act fast. You skidded to a stop, pressing your back against the wall of the building to the right, silent and still. You could hear his labored breathing now, closer than ever.

“FBI! Drop your weapon!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the silence.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the rain. Then, a flicker of movement.

The unsub was turning, eyes wide with panic. You knew he had a gun, but you didn’t hesitate. You raised your own weapon, fingers tight on the trigger. He was cornered now. There was no escape.

But then, in a desperate last-ditch effort, he spun, his gun coming up in a smooth motion—too fast, too practiced.

The first shot rang out, and you barely had time to register the impact before the world seemed to slow. Pain. White-hot, jagged pain shot up your leg, and for a brief moment, all you could do was stare at the blood blooming through your pants.

You hit the ground hard, knees slamming into the asphalt, but your finger squeezed the trigger reflexively, sending a burst of fire at the unsub. The recoil was a blur, but you saw the man stumble, his shoulder jerking as the bullet grazed him. He stumbled back against the wall, clutching at his arm with a howl of pain.

Your breath was ragged now, your focus on him, not the searing pain in your leg. You pushed yourself to your feet, gritting your teeth as you made the effort to stagger toward him. The alley was spinning slightly, the walls closing in around you as dizziness swept over you. But you weren’t done yet. You had a job to do.

“Hands in the air!” you shouted, even though the words came out slurred. You were close now, so close. The unsub was on his knees, clutching his arm, but his gun was still gripped tightly in his other hand.

“Don’t make me shoot you again.” you warned, your voice growing hoarse as you approached. Your fingers were trembling now, the pain too much to ignore, but you had to finish this. Had to cuff him.

You took another step forward, but that’s when your leg finally gave out. A sharp cry tore from your throat as your knees buckled beneath you, and you crumpled to the ground in a heap, the world spinning faster now.

The unsub—he was moving again, but you were too weak to stop him. You blinked hard, trying to clear your vision, but it was no use. Blood was pooling beneath you now, the sharp taste of metal in the air as your vision blurred at the edges.

The sound of pounding feet grew louder, and then familiar voices cut through the haze.

“Shots fired! There’s an Agent down!” Morgan’s voice was sharp with urgency. “Over here!”

You blinked up at the blurry shapes of your teammates rushing into the alley. Morgan went straight for the unsub, forcing him onto his stomach to secure the cuffs. But Spencer ignored the scene entirely, his focus laser-sharp as he dropped to his knees beside you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice tight. His hands hovered uncertainly for a moment before he pressed them against your thigh, trying to stem the bleeding. “Stay with me, okay?”

“Reid,” you muttered, your voice strained but laced with sarcasm. “You’re ignoring your arrest quota.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. His jaw was clenched, his normally steady hands trembling slightly as he worked. "You’re losing too much blood," he said, more to himself than to you. “I need to—hold on—“

He pulled off his jacket, looping it tightly around your thigh just above the wound. The pressure made you hiss in pain, but he didn’t falter. “This is going to hurt,” he warned, twisting the fabric to form a makeshift tourniquet.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” you bit out, your tone dry despite the agony.

“Keep talking,” he said, glancing up at you briefly. “Sarcasm’s good. Means you’re still with me,”

“Spencer Reid,” you said, pausing to suck in a shallow breath. “Master of the obvious and amateur tourniquet maker. Truly a man of many talents.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile. “You’re going to be fine,” he said, more firmly this time. “The ambulance is on its way,”

“Just let me bleed out,” you muttered, blinking rapidly to stave off the encroaching darkness. “Better that that another stupid hospital.”

Spencer’s expression tightened. “Stop that. You need to stay awake.”

“Your concern is cute, but there are more important things at hand here,” you murmured.

“Not right now,” he snapped, though his voice cracked slightly on the words. His hands pressed harder against your leg, trying to slow the bleeding. “You’re going to make it. Do you hear me?”

You swallowed hard, the fight to stay conscious growing harder with every passing second. “Fuck—“ You take as deep of a breath as you can manage. “Go, fucking cuff the guy already, dig your finger into his bullet hole if that makes you feel better.”

“I’m staying here,” Spencer stutters out a breath of his own, hands still applying pressure against your leg, fingers saturated red.

You snorted, despite the pain, trying to focus on something—anything other than the pounding in your leg. “I didn’t just get shot for you to not arrest this guy, Reid.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “I’m not letting you bleed out on me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight with concern.

His fingers were trembling slightly, but he kept his focus, muttering to himself about the importance of stopping the blood flow, keeping you conscious, keeping you alive.

“You can’t just… you can’t just ignore the guy,” you protested, even as your head swam and your vision darkened. “He’s still there…”

“Morgan’s handling it,” Spencer interrupted, his voice firm now. “And you’re not going anywhere until I make sure you’re stable. Do you hear me?”

You tried to nod, but it came out more like a half-hearted shake of your head. The world around you was spinning, the sounds of the city fading into the background.

You heard Morgan’s voice in the distance, barking orders as he secured the unsub. JJ was likely talking to the EMTs, telling them to hurry.

And all you could do was lay there, helpless, staring up at Spencer’s face. His wide, concerned eyes locked on yours as he hovered over you, applying pressure to your wound with shaky hands.

“I’m not dying, Spence,” you muttered, your voice thick with exhaustion. “I just… need a second. Just… a second.”

“Don’t close your eyes.”

But you do, and then you don’t have the energy to open them again.

—

The room was quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the lingering smell of coffee from the cup sitting untouched on the small tray table by your bed.

When you stirred, the first thing you noticed was the heavy ache in your leg, a deep, throbbing pain that felt like it had settled in your bones. The second was the weight on your hand—warm, steady, and grounding. You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the pale morning light filtering through the partially drawn curtains.

Spencer was slouched in a chair beside your bed, his lanky frame folded awkwardly into the too-small seat.

His head was tilted forward, soft brown curls falling over his forehead, and his hand rested lightly over yours. His jacket was draped over the back of the chair, his tie loosened, and the faint shadow of stubble lined his jaw. He looked exhausted, but even in sleep, his grip on your hand didn’t falter.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the sharp pang in your leg. The movement must have been enough to wake him because his eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused for a moment before they locked onto yours. Relief flooded his face in an instant.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep and tinged with something you couldn’t quite place—concern, maybe, or perhaps guilt.

“Unfortunately,” you croaked, your throat dry. You glanced at the IV drip hooked to your arm and the bandages wrapped tightly around your thigh. “Looks like I survived.”

Spencer leaned forward, his hand tightening around yours. “Barely. You lost a lot of blood. If we’d been a few minutes slower—”

“But you weren’t,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the lingering haze of fatigue. “You got me here. That’s what matters.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowing. “You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly. “When you passed out, I thought—” He cut himself off, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the memory. “I thought we were going to lose you,”

You offered him a faint smirk, trying to inject some levity into the moment. “It takes more than a bullet to get rid of me, Reid. You should know that by now.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile breaking through his serious expression. “I do. But still…” He glanced down at your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “You need to stop putting yourself in these situations,”

“Occupational hazard,” you replied, shrugging as best as you could while lying flat on your back. “Comes with the badge.”

Spencer didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning your face as if to reassure himself that you were really okay. “The unsub’s in custody,” he said after a moment. “Morgan and Rossi handled it. He’s not going anywhere,”

“Good,” you said, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “At least it wasn’t for nothing.”

“It wasn’t,” Spencer agreed. His voice softened, and he added, almost to himself, “But you scared me. I don’t want to go through that again.”

You met his gaze, the raw emotion in his eyes catching you off guard. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “And I know you’ll probably do it again if it means saving someone else. But just—be careful, okay? Please?”

The vulnerability in his words made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. Instead, you gave his hand a light squeeze, letting the silence speak for you.

After a moment, Spencer cleared his throat, his usual awkwardness returning as he shifted in his chair. “I brought you some books,” he said, gesturing to a small stack on the table beside your bed. “Thought you might want something to do while you recover.”

You glanced at the titles—an eclectic mix of crime novels, classic literature, and even a few puzzle books. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

He shrugged, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “I just wanted to make sure you had what you needed.”

You smiled, genuinely this time, and for the first time since waking up, the weight of the past day felt just a little lighter. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice soft but steady.

The two of you sat in companionable silence after that, the chaos of the previous night a distant memory as the morning light spilled into the room. For now, you were safe. And that was enough.

[junhoswifey]

hii can you pls do head canons for dating dae ho??

kang dae-ho / player 388 bf head canons ˚⊱🎀⊰˚

pairing(s): kang dae-ho x female!reader

warnings: femme reader, modern day au, language, nsfw, kissing, mentions of sex/oral sex, fluff

-touchiest/clingiest person ever and he makes sure everyone knows it

-biggest gentleman ever!!! 💗💝💖💘💓💞💕

-steals your hair ties when he can’t find his own bc he knows you don’t mind

-will spoil you any chance he can especially for anniversaries/birthdays

-always complimenting you and reminding you how much he loves you

“you’re the most beautiful girl in the world” “i love you so much baby”

-has made playlists for you before and you listen to them religiously

-has a hard time going a couple days or even hours without you

“i’ve missed you so much!” you heard dae ho yell as you walked through the door. he engulfed you in a hug before you could even react. “it hasn’t even been a day baby…” you whisper in his ear. he smiles to himself before replying, “i know…” he looked down shyly almost like he was embarrassed. you picked his face up in your hands making him look at you. “it’s okay i missed you too dae… i wish we could spend every minute together.” his smile widened at your words holding on to you tighter like you were going to slip away any second.

-always sending you texts throughout the day to update you on what he’s doing

-loves physical touch (hugging, holding hands, cuddling)

-loves watching you do your makeup/hair just staring at you in awe of how he landed the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen

nsfw warning!!! (18+)

-def a switch idc!

-thinks about you while jerking off and likes to pretend it’s your hand instead of his

-loves cockwarming even if you’re just laying in bed together watching tv

-can’t help but get hard every time you’re even remotely close to him

-loves it when you take control and act more dominant

-he seems so innocent but i feel like he’s def saying the nastiest things during sex

“taking my cock so well babygirl” “you look so pretty like this”

-has a praise kink

-eating you out is his fav hobby and he can literally do it for hours on end

⇾ be sure to checkout my masterlist if you enjoyed! any type of interaction is appreciated :’)

⇾ dae-ho my beloved💋💋💋 i hope you guys enjoyed i may do a part two if yall want & keep sending requests i love writing for him!!! thank you for reading i love you all :)

[spencerreidsrightsock]

“I’m not wearing anything.”

Not my pics. Credits to owners.

Summary: You text Spencer while he’s doing paperwork at the BAU, when he gets home he makes up for being gone.

TW! MDNI! Dom!spence, Dirty texts, fingering (f!rec), praise kink, p in v, unprotected penetration, creamp!e, fluff.

Pairing: Dom!Spencer x reader

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy. I’ve got a cold or flu or something and I’m not okay.

Spencer was at work, you were sitting on the couch mindlessly flipping through the television channels for something to distract you until Spencer comes home. He worked all the time and it’s been weeks since you’ve both been intimate together and it’s all thanks to his busy and grueling work schedule.

To say you were sexually frustrated was an understatement; and so was Spencer. He had been gone on case after case then worked back to back nearly everyday. You tried to please yourself but it wasn’t like having Spencer physically there with you, with his hands mindlessly roaming and raking over every inch of your body, praising you, and talking you through it.

You had tried and tried to please yourself, but it wasn’t the same.

After a failed attempt at trying to find a movie to distract yourself you grab up your phone. You immediately text Spencer, “I’m not wearing anything.” you hit the send button and smirk a bit.

Spencer is at work finishing up some paperwork from a case they just worked.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and reaches in to grab it. He opens the message and immediately goes red. His eyes get darker and he feels his pants become slightly tighter.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and shuts the case file and slides it into his desk. He grabs his things and stands up, “Hey, uh, I have to go.” he says looking at everyone and waves them goodbye. He walks into the elevator and immediately clicks the ground floor button. Once the elevator stops he’s anxious for the doors to open and once they do he walks out them and straight to his car where he gets in and starts driving home to you.

Ten minutes later he arrives home, he unlocks the door and walks in. He throws his things down on the couch, “Y/n” he calls out. There’s no answer. He walks into your shared room and sees you lying on the bed totally naked.

He kicks his shoes off and walks to the bed beside you, and runs his hand over your cheek, “So beautiful” he hums out. You flash him a smile. He climbs onto the bed, both of his hands on either side of your body, as he hovers over you.

“Spence I missed you” you mutter out behind a smile. His hands begin to roam your body, he lets out a hum as he stares into your eyes, “Gonna make you feel good.” He says staring into your eyes.

He brings his hand up and slips it between your bodies and down to your heat. You let out a hum. “Oh Spencer,” you whine out. He slides a finger between your folds and you let a moan slip past your lips. “Hmm let me hear you pretty girl.” He growls out and slips a finger past your entrance.

You let out a moan and stare into his eyes. “So wet for me already.” He hums out as his fingers work inside of you, he slips in a second finger. “Missed you, needed you.” You whisper, barely able to form a coherent thought as his fingers thrust quickly inside of you.

You feel the pressure building in your stomach as you continue to moan out, your hands coming up to tangle in Spencer’s messy hair. “Cum on my fingers, y/n.” He whispers into your ear.

With that your legs begin to shake and you throw your head back, “Oh Spencer oh my god” you moan cumming on his fingers. He backs his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth as he sucks your cum from them, he lets out a hum, “God I missed your taste” he says as he stares into your eyes.

He sits up and rids himself of his shirt and slides his slacks, leaving only his boxers on. He intertwines his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and slides them down, his cock springs up and his just below his belly button.

You stare at him and moan out, “Spencer I need you to fuck me so hard right now” you say to him. He looks at you and smiles, “I will baby, gonna make you feel good.” He growls in your ear.

He takes his cock in his hand and settles down with one hand beside you. He gently pushes his cock past your entrance, “Spencer” you moan out. He brings his eyes to yours, staring at you intently. “Missed you my beautiful girl, gonna show you how bad I missed you” he growls out.

He quickens his pace fucking into you so hard the bed frame slaps against the wall over, and over, and over again. “Feel so good around me, so tight,” he moans into your ear.

“Spencer I’m going to cum” you moan out. “Mmm so close for me baby, cum on my cock.” He whispers out, his breath becoming ragged. With two more trusts you’re screaming his name and cumming around him.

He thrusts in a few more times and stills inside of you reaching his high. You feel his ropes of cum shooting deep inside of you. “Oh Spencer that was amazing” you hum out, still breathless.

“You did so good for me” he says kissing your lips. “God I missed you like crazy” he finishes. You stare into his eyes and smile. “I missed you too Spencer” you say. He pulls out and collapses beside you and wraps his arms around your body so he can hold you close to him. In this very moment he never wants to leave your side again. He’d be perfectly content with staying like this right here, in the bedroom, holding you, until he takes his last breath.

[russellsppttemplates]

Bridging the Gap (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is 4 years older than Lando, media scrutiny

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

The low hum of the television filled the cozy apartment as you and Lando sat on the sofa, nestled comfortably under a soft blanket as his hands absentmindedly traced patterns on your thigh. Lately, it was one of your favorite pastimes - catching up on a show after a long week and simply enjoying each other's presence without having the world around you.

Life with Lando was unexpectedly delightful. His infectious laughter and zest for life were contagious, and even the most mundane days seemed brighter with him around, no matter how many clients you had that day or how much reading you had to do before their next sessions. At the beginning, you couldn't wrap your head around how the way your routines still laced together despite the seemingly different responsibilities, but you cherished the balance you shared.

"Do you have a busy day tomorrow?", your boyfriend asked.

"I have 8 clients, as two of them already cancelled because they're sick, but I managed to adjust the schedule and hopefully I have some time to go to the bank and see about my mortgage payments", you said.

"And in that rearranged schedule, is there a possibility of you spending the night here so we can wake up together before you go be a boss lady?", he wondered as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, softly kissing the skin there.

"I have to be in the office at before 10 am, Lan, I can't have a lie in", you reasoned.

"I have to be up at 7 am to go on a run with Jon, so neither can I", he smirked, knowing he had all the reasons to convince you to stay, "we can have some breakfast together before you leave me".

"I guess I have time to pop home, change and get to work on time", you reasoned, agreeing with his plans.

"I'm glad you think that because my next step was going to kidnap you for the night - I'm talking locking the doors and throwing away the keys", Lando spoke.

Your laughs rubbled as Lando squeezed you tighter against him, basking in the warm feeling on his chest of having you for the rest of the night.

.

A few weeks later, Lando told you Max and Pietra would be in Monaco for a week since they hadn't spent some time together in a while.

"Do you know how your week is going to be? In terms of your schedule I mean", Lando mused, holding your waist as you stirred the food in the pot.

"I had some people move around from their usual schedule, so the weekdays end late but I don't have many appointments on Friday and I have Saturday off", you spoke.

"That's good, means we can spend a nice long weekend together", Lando smiled, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin there, "I'm not sure of all the plans yet but it’ll be fun! And they’re eager to meet you", he grinned, optimism lighting up his face.

"I'm excited to meet them too", you spoke, despite the one looming shadow. The thought of meeting Lando’s close-knit circle always brought a tinge of anxiety with it. His friends were used to seeing him as the carefree poster child of single life - never missing a party or the chance to get a little drunk. Hell, the idea that Lando would rather stay in on a Friday night, watching his girlfriend cook them dinner after spending the afternoon waiting for her to finish her online sessions would baffle Max and all of his friends.

And though Lando never seemed to mind, the idea of them questioning your relationship because of your age gnawed at your insecurity. Even when you were younger, the party scene wasn't your thing and as the years passed, it certainly didn't become it. You were fine with Lando enjoying himself whenever he wanted to and never once objected to that, but feared that his friends would question it.

"There's something on your mind, I can tell that", Lando spoke softly, "would you like to share it with me?".

"It's just...", you tried, knowing he would be able to tell you were lying and knowing that sharing this with him could ease your fears.

"Doesn't have to sound pretty or polished, I just want to know what is on your head", he encouraged softly.

"Maybe they won't want to spend time with me? They're coming here to see you and spend time with you, and there's always the possibility that they might now want to spend time with me", you let it out.

"Why do you think that?", he continued softly.

"Because I'm not hard-core, adrenaline seeking fun!", you added.

"Lovie, the plans we have are just enough fun for everyone, I didn't to do anything too hard-core and they don't either, so we'll be good and have plenty of fun together, yeah?", Lando assured, turning you around and kissing your forehead.

"You are starting to have a way with words", you mumbled, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin in such a protective manner, like no harm in the world could get to you if he was near.

"I catch on a thing or two you say", your boyfriend mumbled, kissing your lips slowly.

"I have to take my lunch to the office tomorrow, I don't have time to come home", you mumbled more to yourself than anything, taking a tupperware box from the cupboards so you wouldn't end up without your packed lunch.

"Pack two of them and I'll meet you in the office", Lando said like it was nothing.

"Sorry, what?", you asked again, afraid you had misheard him.

"You can pack two of them to go and I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow so you don't eat lunch all alone", Lando suggested.

"You don't have to", you reasoned.

"I know I don't, but I want to", Lando smiled, "the next couple of days are going to be busy for me and I need to fill up on time with you so my heart won't miss you as much".

He was ever the charmer and you still blushed at his words, not used to this no matter how many times he did it.

"Fine, but you can't mess up the crayons this time! You left one of them on the floor and I saw my life flash before my eyes when I stepped on it and nearly fell! No funny business in my office!", you joked.

"Does that mean we can't play Jenga and talk about my feelings? How dare you do that to me, woman?", Lando dramatised.

.

The first night of the week Max and Pietra would be spending in Monaco arrived quickly, and while the full day of sessions certainly kept your mind away from all of it, you found yourself at the door of your boyfriend's apartment waiting for him to get it.

"Hello, beautiful", Lando greeted as soon as he saw you, kissing your lips before letting you in, "let me take these", he said as he grabbed your bag and your coat.

"Thank you, I'm sorry I'm a bit late but the last session ran a bit longer than I expexted", you apologised, smoothing over your jeans and checking how you looked in the mirror - after the day you had, you couldn't expect much but you were pleasantly surprised that your hair was still bouncy and forgoing makeup was probably a good idea because you would have smudged it by now.

"You look beautiful as always, Y/N", Lando grabbed your attention, "and don't worry, take out is late too so you don't need to feel bad", he assured, guiding you with him to the living room where the noise was coming from.

"Guys, this is Y/N", Lando announced as they both welcomed you warmly, quickly asking you questions and letting you join in, preparing a drink for you.

"I'm usually heavy handed, but this one is proper, Y/N", he offered you before you took a sip, "I can fix a different one though!".

"It's good, it's good - hits the spot very nicely", you smiled, taking another sip before engaging in conversation.

When the food arrived, Lando asked you to join him in the kitchen to help him plate everything up and bring it to the dining table, opting to use the door closest to it so it would be easier.

As you crossed rhe hallway, you overheard Max and Pietra talking.

“Do you think it works?”, Pietra asked, “I mean, they seem happy, but Lando’s… well, Lando".

Max shrugged, “He’s crazy about her. Age doesn’t matter, does it? But yeah, never thought he’d settle, at least not like this".

You felt a small knot form in your stomach, but before you could dwell on it, Lando appeared at your side, his familiar warmth instantly reassuring as he placed his hand on the small of your back, “You alright?” he asked, noticing the brief flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

“Yeah", you smiled, deciding in that moment that the security you had together was worth navigating any doubts from others.

As the evening continued, you noticed Max and P exchanging skeptical glances across the table - they're were known for their protective nature over Lando, Max is his bestfriend, so they are particularly wary of anyone close to their beloved friend.

Over the clinking of silverware and hum of conversations, Max finally spoke up, his tone casual but inquisitive, "so, how’s it really going, being with a guy who practically lives on a racetrack?”.

You felt Lando's reassuring nudge beneath the table, prompting you to respond with honesty, "It's definitely something else. Racing is such a demanding world, but we find balance by making time for each other away from it all. So far, it has worked out well".

P leaned back, observing the dynamic between the you, "there must be a lot of pressure, especially with so many eyes watching your every move".

Lando chimed in before you could respond, "Y/N handles it like a champ. Honestly, she’s the calm in my storm", he said, his eyes filled with admiration for you. There wasn't a day that you didn't handle it gracefully, whether it was a fan wanting to take a photo or a reporter wanting to know more than you allowed.

Max and P exchanged another look, this time softer and less guarded - little by little, they began to see what Lando meant by his earlier assurance that you kept him grounded.

As dinner progressed, the conversation turned to shared stories, with Lando guiding the discussion to include moments from your relationship - your mutual love for travel, how you introduced him to the joy of quiet moments, and even shared a humorous tale of your early dates, laughter erupting when he recounted an incident involving mistaking your office with the one next to yours, Lando accidentally entering the lawyer's waiting room with a massive bouquet of flowers and passes to golf.

Max's initial skepticism gradually melted away as he watched you interact. Lando's attentiveness was unmistakable - how he would lean in to catch your words over the din of conversations, or how his eyes crinkled in genuine amusement at your stories. He noticed how effortless and natural your connection seemed, a seamless blend of companionship and partnership.

By the time dessert came around, Pietra seemed convinced, "Alright, alright. I can see what everyone’s been talking about. You both really seem to understand each other in a way that's rare".

"You say that like we don't!", Max complained.

"Shut it, Max, you know what I mean", she mumbled.

Feeling the warmth of acceptance flood the room, Lando laid his hand over yours on the table, grinning with relief and contentment, "Told you she was amazing,” he said, playfully raising his eyebrows.

Max chuckled, raising his glass, "Okay, I admit defeat, I'm not sure we are like this!".

It was in that moment that you realized, the whispers of doubt that had once lingered were no match for the clarity of Lando’s affection. Together, you were creating a narrative all your own, one that defied stereotypes and embraced your unique bond.

.

As the days passed after the gathering, the glow of being surrounded by Lando’s friends began to fade, replaced by the nagging unease that had settled in your mind. You found yourself replaying the conversations from that night, the laughter, the glances, and especially Max's comment, which you still couldn’t quite shake off despite the way the night ended.

One evening, after a long day at work, filled with sessions and schedule arrangements thanks to the flu season, you sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media.

Your heart sank as you stumbled upon a headline featuring Lando. The article speculated about his relationships and how he was often deemed the ultimate bachelor, writing that they believed he wasn't about to change his ways. The more you read, the harder it became to ignore your worries.

Later that night, Lando arrived from his photoshoot, his laughter echoing as he stepped through you door. He instantly brightened the room with his presence, but you struggled to muster so much as a smile.

“Hey! Long day?”, he asked, tilting his head slightly, concern etched across his features as he took a good look at you.

“Just tired", you replied with a half truth. As you settled down, you felt the weight of the unspoken words pressing on your chest, knowing that sooner or later they would find their way out.

“Is everything okay?”, Lando probed, sensing the shift in your mood. Even when you had a bad day, the reception he got wasn't like this.

You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, Do you ever think about what people say… about us?”.

Lando paused, confusion washing over his face, "What do you mean?”.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, looking down, "Like, the way the media talks about you. Or how your friends might see us. What if they don’t accept me? They might think I’m not right for you… for your image".

Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, “Why would you think that?”.

“Because it’s true!”, you almost spat, frustration bubbling to the surface, "You’re this young, popular and successful Formula One driver, and I’m just… well, me. What if they think I’m just an older woman trying to latch onto your fame? What if they don’t see how happy we are?”.

“Stop it", he said gently, but firmly, “you’re not ‘just’ anything, or someone. You’re incredible, and I’m with you because I want to be. Age is just a number and it doesn’t define how meaningful our relationship is, not to me and it shouldn't be to anyone".

But your doubts resurfaced, relentless as you continued with your voice rising with each word, “But what if your family doesn’t feel the same? What if they think I’m not good enough for their sweet boy? I just… I can't help but overthink it. I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you".

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his and grounding you with his touch, something you explained to him early on that worked wonders for you, “I can’t control what others think, but my family will see how happy you make me. They care about my happiness, not just some number or date".

“But what if they don’t?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. Over the years, you could remember the times where you told patients exactly that, that their mind was looking for survival so that's where it took them.

“They will!", Lando stated, his grip tightening slightly, “Look, it’s not going to be like this forever. People talk, and yes, media can be ruthless, but what matters is how we feel about each other. And I feel lucky to have you in my life. Please trust that, my love".

You looked for reassurance in his eyes as slowly his words began to soothe the turmoil, but the fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

“I just don’t want to complicate things for you", you said softly.

Lando brushed his fingers against your cheek, a gentle smile breaking through your anxiety, "you’re not complicating things. You’re adding to my life in a way I never knew I needed. Can we just take this one step at a time together?”.

Lando pulled you into a warm embrace, and for a moment, the weight on your heart lightened. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to stay in the moment and be there.

“I’ll try", you finally spoke against his shoulder, feeling comfort in his unwavering support.

“I promise I'm not going anywhere", he whispered back, wrapping you tighter in his arms, "we’re in this together".

"Thank you", you mumbled, pecking his lips softly.

"You don't ever need to thank me, not for stuff like this or anything else, we're in this together, lovie", Lando kissed your forehead, "besides, if you ever dump me, I'll have to find a good psychologist to help me through it and you're the best one, so that's another valid point for us to stay together", he chuckled, wanting to get a giggle out of you.

Smiling when he succeeded, Lando squeezed you tighter against him, "never doubt that we were meant to be, Y/N, never".

[shurisneakers]

HIII, HOW ARE YOU

I was thinking if you could write Bucky's version of "Who did this to you" 🥰 Also, I love you writing so much! The way you describe things makes it so easy for me to imagine the scenes

a/n: hello my love! thank you for sending this in, I hope you like it<3

this is part of misery loves company but is just a stand alone fic. you don't need to read anything before this

warnings: blood and hurt, implications of violence and killin klg, hurt comfort, swearing

The longer you spend in this business, the more sleep feels like a favor the universe begrudgingly grants. Rest without nightmares is a luxury, and your salary simply did not budget for it.

So when it’s 3 a.m., and someone slips into your room without a word, you’re already awake before the light in your bathroom flickers on.

You hear the faint shuffle of movement, the sound of cabinets opening and closing. His silhouette moves inside, quiet and deliberate.

There’s no urgency to it, no noise loud enough to wake anyone else. He knows better than that. He just doesn’t know better than to pick your bathroom to raid.

Sighing, you push off the bed and head toward the bathroom.

The door creaks when you nudge it open, and he doesn’t even flinch. He’s still bent over the sink, head in your cabinet, his shoulders slumped like he’s half-asleep himself.

“Go to bed,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, not bothering to look at you.

“Sure, right after you get the fuck out of my bathroom," you reply, leaning against the doorframe. “You know there’s one in your room, right? Or did you get lost again?”

“Crazy. Here I was, thinking I’d take the scenic route,” he deadpans, pulling out a bottle and squinting at the label. “Must’ve missed my bathroom. Maybe it’s hiding behind a bookshelf or something.”

You roll your eyes and press a hand to his shoulder, shoving him aside as you rifle through the cabinet yourself. “Move. You’re just making a mess.”

Bucky doesn’t protest, just leans back against the wall with a sigh, watching as you shove aside bottles and boxes. When you finally find the first-aid kit, you shove past him with more force than necessary.

“Sit down.”

To your surprise, he obeys, perching on the edge of the bathtub. His silence almost irritates you more than his usual backtalk.

You crouch in front of him, ignoring the way his gaze follows your every movement as you pull out antiseptic wipes and gauze. You don’t want to look at him yet. You don’t need to see his face to know he looks like hell.

But when you finally glance up, it’s still worse than you expected.

If you hadn’t trained yourself to stay composed in the worst situations, your breath might’ve hitched. His lip is split, an eye swollen shut, cuts scattered across his face, and a dark trail of dried blood streaks from his nose to his jaw. The faintest smudge of crimson still lingers on his temple.

"What?" his voice comes out sharper, like he's testing you to see your reaction.

He sits too stiffly for it to just be his face—there are ribs involved, at the very least.

You don't grace him with a reply.

"I'm fine," he says, as if that’s enough to wave away the mess of him.

“Didn’t ask,” you reply flatly, though your jaw tightens.

“Did someone teach you how to be this kind, or is it a God-given talent?” he mutters dryly.

You don’t respond, ripping open a packet of antiseptic wipes and crouching in front of him.

“How’d your day go?” he drawls, voice flat but testing.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“God, the hospitality,” he drags, voice dry and cracked. "For a second there, I was worried bleeding out in your bathroom might make you care.”

“So fuckin' dramatic,” you breathe, swiping a wipe across his busted lip with a gentleness you hate admitting to. “You’re not bleeding out. And I don’t care."

The silence stretches as you clean him up. He doesn’t flinch—not at the antiseptic or the sting of your touch—but you notice his sharp intake of breath when you press a little harder on his ribs.

“Who did this?” you ask lowly, your tone sharp without meaning to be.

He exhales through his nose, something like a grunt. “Why? You plannin' on punching them for me?”

"If that'll keep you out of my damn bathroom at night."

His gaze flickers to you, sharp and unyielding, but you refuse to meet it, focusing instead on wiping the blood crusted beneath his nose.

Finally, he mumbles, “Doesn’t matter. Kids are safe."

“Good,” you say, but the word sticks in your throat like glass.

When you glance up, his good eye is already on you, his gaze sharper than it has any right to be. His breathing is steady, heavier than usual but not alarming. Whatever he’s looking for, you don’t know, but it’s enough to make you shift uncomfortably.

“I’m fine,” he repeats, softer this time, almost like he’s trying to convince you.

“Didn’t ask,” you mutter, though your hand slows for a fraction of a second before you move on to the next cut.

His lip quirks at that, the ghost of a smile. “Sure. Noticed."

When you move to dab at the cut above his brow, something in his hair catches your eye. Your fingers brush against it, and you pull the strand closer for inspection

That’s when you notice it—the small braid in his hair, crooked and messy, like it was done by clumsy hands.

You reach out before you can think better of it, fingers tugging gently at the braid.

"Who did this to you?” you ask again, this time biting back a smile.

“Don’t,” he mutters, ducking his head to pull away, but your hand finds his neck, stilling him. His skin grows warm under your hand.

“One of the kids?” you press, voice softer now.

He clears his throat, his cheeks flushing faintly. “The jet was too dark. They needed a distraction.” He pauses, as though considering how much to share. “Missed that one, I guess.”

Your thumb brushes his jaw as you inspect the braid, lingering a little too long. “Shame. It makes you look less hideous.”

Bucky huffs, more exasperated than offended. “You’re shit out of luck, then. Gotta put up with this mug as it is.”

You realize you’ve been staring too long when his eyes flick to yours. Clearing your throat, you drop your hands and reach for another wipe.

He leans back slightly, his gaze dragging over you. “You look like you’re about to punch someone.”

“Surprised there’s anyone left to punch.”

“There isn’t,” he replies breezily, though the weight of his words hangs in the air.

“Good, I don't have to waste my time cleaning up after you.” You swipe the antiseptic across his lip, slower this time, and your fingers linger a fraction longer than they should.

You don’t miss the way his gaze drops to your hands as you tear off another wipe, the way his jaw tightens when your fingers brush against his skin again.

“You’re happy you don’t get to punch anyone?” he asks, “Careful, or I might start thinking you care.”

You don’t answer, not with words. Instead, you press the antiseptic down just hard enough to make him wince.

Bucky hisses, but his lips twitch, and you hate how much you want to smile back.

Instead, you pack away the first aid kit and push it into his lap.

“Go to sleep,” you mutter, turning away.

“Sure thing,” he says, but when you glance back, he’s still sitting there, watching you like he’s not quite ready to leave.

Like maybe you don’t want him to.

"C'mon," you say quietly. "It's late."

He finally pushes himself off the tub, and drags himself silently to your bed.

[dirtyvulture]

The Maid - Part 2

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4705

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: Thank you so much for the response to part 1! And thank you to everyone who was so patient and understanding for this part taking a while to write. I hope you all like it.

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Wanda seems to be in a better mood lately, Natasha notices, probably because the two of you rekindled whatever complicated romance you had going on. And as sad and lonely as it had made Natasha feel, at least Wanda was being less rude to her, and that would always be a win in her book.

The grocery trips and errands she sends Natasha on are less demanding, although Natasha’s unsure if she’s becoming more comfortable or Wanda’s gotten less picky. Wanda still requests Natasha’s help for her weekly meetings, and Natasha cannot understand why someone who is unemployed goes so out of her way to find the most mundane, meaningless things to participate in. But it keeps Natasha paid and busy, and she still gets to see you a few times a week.

“What are you doing this weekend, Natasha?” Wanda asks while the two of them are in the kitchen. Wanda is on her laptop while Natasha stands at the counter, cutting vegetables for dinner.

“Um…” Natasha knows better than to tell Wanda the truth, which is that she’ll be sitting alone in her apartment for the next two days and eating ice cream on her couch. “Some friends invited me to go shopping with them at the mall,” she lies. She doesn’t have friends and she certainly doesn’t have the budget to shop at a mall after all the debt she still owes.

“I’ll be gone all weekend with some girlfriends,” Wanda says, not even acknowledging Natasha’s plans, which makes her wonder why she had even bothered to ask in the first place. “I’m not into wine tasting much, but the girls go nuts for it. I’m just going for the spa at the resort, between you and me.”

Natasha has no idea what to do with this information. But she’s spared from answering when the garage door rumbles open.

Wanda slams her laptop shut. “Oh, Y/N is home early.” She gets up to greet you. Natasha can hear your voices carry through the hall.

“You’re early tonight,” Wanda says. “I was just telling Natasha about my weekend plans to Vermont with the girls–”

“Your weekend plans?” you interrupt. “Since when did you have plans to go to Vermont?” Natasha has never heard you sound genuinely angry before. She stops cutting the carrots to focus on eavesdropping.

“Carol wanted to go for her birthday!” your wife says.

“Wanda,” you say, your voice lowering. “Our anniversary is this weekend. I booked us a stay at the Ritz and got us tickets to see Wicked–”

“Well, just ask for a refund!” Wanda hisses. Natasha is stunned that this is her first response to forgetting about her entire anniversary with you. “And we can celebrate when I get back–”

“‘Get back?’” you repeat. “That’s not the point, Wanda. Why don’t you ask for a refund for your trip–”

“I can’t do that to the girls,” Wanda says. “Carol’s been looking forward to this for months!”

You mumble something that Natasha can’t hear. She feels awful for you. Clearly, you had spent a lot of money and time planning a nice outing, and your wife didn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, she tried to put the blame on you for intruding on her plans. Natasha felt herself shaking with rage for you. You deserved so much better.

The two of you trudge into the kitchen and Natasha hastily goes back to cutting the carrots. Wanda is hanging onto your arm, tiptoeing to whisper into your ear but you shake her off and walk through the kitchen to the staircase. Natasha knows that Wanda is glaring at the back of her head, probably upset that she had overheard, but for once she doesn’t say anything and disappears after you.

The mood is particularly subdued when Natasha serves up roasted salmon with a colorful vegetable medley and mashed potatoes. 

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say as she hands you a loaded plate. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything when Natasha gives her a plate.

While the two of you eat in awkward silence, Natasha cleans up the kitchen, her final task of the day. She grabs her purse and heads towards the door, when she hears footsteps behind her.

It’s you.

“Can I walk you out to your car?” you ask. “I know it’s a safe neighborhood, but I don’t want you walking out in the dark by yourself.”

Natasha is so flattered by your offer she doesn’t stop to consider how Wanda might feel about this.

“Sure, I really appreciate that. Thank you.” She leads the way out of your house.

“Sorry you always have to park around the corner,” you add, maintaining a respectful distance from her on the sidewalk. “I’ve told Wanda the whole neighborhood knows you work for us. But she’s…” you trail off, clearly not wanting to speak ill of your wife.

“I’m sorry she forgot your anniversary,” Natasha blurts out. 

You seem startled that Natasha had been eavesdropping, but quickly recover. “Well, it’s…it’s not the first time she’s done it,” you admit in a soft voice. “I don’t know why I bother trying to do anything special anymore. It’s just another day to her. And it seems like she’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”

“She’s missing out,” Natasha says, surprised by her own confidence. “You’re a wonderful person and you deserve someone who will appreciate the efforts you go to celebrate important milestones like that.” She stops before she can offer herself up.

“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” 

The two of you stop at Natasha’s beat-up Nissan. 

“Thanks for walking me to my car–” she starts.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you ask suddenly, in a rushed whisper as if Wanda is around the corner listening. “If you’re not, would you like to see Wicked with me at the Gershwin Theater? I told Wanda I could probably get a credit with the Ritz, but I don’t want to deal with the hassle of exchanging the tickets, too. You can come over Saturday night and I’ll drive us?”

Natasha is so shocked by your proposal she doesn’t even have the words to agree at first. Growing up, she had loved watching musical movies until the VHS tapes wore out, but she had never had the opportunity to see a live performance. Even now as an adult, she still didn’t have the time nor the budget to see a show. To hear you ask that you wanted her to join you, when you had bought the tickets for you and your wife to enjoy on your anniversary she had forgotten, sounded almost too good to be true.

But if Wanda found out you had taken Natasha instead of her…Natasha shuddered at the thought. Maybe this was stepping over the line of professionalism. Natasha wanted to keep her job (and her head), and as much as the opportunity was a dream come true for her, she didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness or weakness.

“Um, I’m supposed to go shopping at the mall with some friends on Saturday,” Natasha says, cringing at the patheticness of her life. “But really–thank you for inviting me. I’m sure you have friends you’d rather take over your maid.”

“I don’t have any friends,” you say, so deadpan that Natasha almost laughs but quickly turns it into a cough when she realizes you’re being serious. While you seemed more reserved than your wife, Natasha refused to believe you didn’t have a strong social network. You were in charge of your own company and clearly doing well if you lived in this neighborhood and could afford a personal housemaid like her.

“Good evening!” The two of you startle when a cheery voice comes out of nowhere.

“Hello, Mr. Vision,” Natasha says, spotting the eccentric man first as he walks by at a rapid pace.

“Late night walk, Vis?” you call out, and he nods with a wave, pumping his arms faster and milling away. The only thing Natasha knew about Vision was that he lived by himself at the end of the street. He had no wife or kids that she knew of, not even a job as he was constantly seen walking around the neighborhood at odd hours. But he never approached Natasha or made her feel uncomfortable, which was more than she could say for most of the people living here, so she was happy to ignore him.

When Vision moves out of sight, you say, “Well, if your plans happen to change…” You fumble in your pockets awkwardly, pulling out a bent business card and handing it to Natasha. “My cell number is on there. Text me before Saturday if you’re still interested.”  

“Okay.” Natasha doesn’t want to get your hopes (or hers) up, but she still isn’t convinced this is a good idea. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Natasha.”

She loves the way her name sounds coming out of your mouth.

***********************************************************************

Natasha is still unsure she made the right decision to turn down your offer to see Wicked. She even called her only friend, Clint, to ask if she should’ve said yes.

“Well, you’re just seeing a show together. Think of it like a work bonus or something. Bosses give their employees nice stuff like that all the time,” Clint says as Natasha picks at a box of takeout in front of the television. Cooking at home was not her favorite chore after doing it all day for her clients.

“Yes, but it’s just the two of us,” Natasha stresses. “Y/N got the tickets to celebrate an anniversary and Wanda already hates me as it is–”

“Nah, she doesn’t hate you,” Clint says.

“You haven’t met her! You don’t see the way she treats me.”

“Exactly. Maybe this is Y/N’s way of apologizing for her behavior,” Clint says.

“I don’t know…” It was already Friday night. Natasha didn’t have much time now to change her mind if she was going to.

“Be nice to yourself, Nat. Let someone do something for you,” Clint goes on. “You work so hard for these people all the time. And I know how much you’ve always wanted to see a live performance.” Natasha feels tears well up in her eyes. She wishes Clint was here in person so she could give him a hug. “Nothing bad will happen. Just tell Y/N you want to go before someone else takes your spot.”

Natasha takes a steely breath. Clint is right. It wasn’t a date. It just was her nice boss treating her out to a Broadway show. Never mind the fact that you had intended to take your wife initially. Wanda would never have to know, right?

“Okay. Thanks, Clint.”

“Enjoy!”

As soon as she hangs up, Natasha goes into her texts. She already created a contact for you the night you gave her your business card. Her anxiety is through the roof as she types out a message to you, then deletes it and starts over. She gets more and more frustrated trying to find the right words, before she finally throws in the towel and clicks “Send.”

Less than a minute later, you respond.

Happiness explodes inside of Natasha. She can hardly believe her luck. Not only does she get to see her first Broadway show, but she gets to see it with you, and have dinner on top of it. She darts over to her closet, looking for the nicest dress she owns.

Wanda be damned. Natasha was going to have a great night with you. 

***********************************************************************

“Table for two, please.”

“Did you have a reservation?” the blonde woman at the podium asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry, but we’re all booked out for the evening,” she apologizes. 

Natasha stands behind you meekly. She can’t even pronounce the name of the restaurant and doesn’t know what kind of food they serve, but it’s probably far beyond anything she could ever afford. She’s wearing a dark green dress that almost reaches her ankles and is conservative in protecting her assets, and spent over an hour doing her makeup, and she wonders if strangers will look at the two of you and assume you’re a couple. She wouldn’t go out of her way to correct them.   

“That’s okay. This was a last-minute plan for us,” you explain. “If Tony is working tonight, can you please tell him Y/N stopped by to say hello?”

“Wait, you know Mr. Stark?” the woman pales. “Don’t go anywhere. You said your name is Y/N?”

You smile and nod. The woman steps down from her podium and dashes into the back. 

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” Natasha boldly teases. 

You turn and wink at her. 

“Tony and I went to college together,” you explain, although this implies you shared a friendship of some kind. “And clearly, his business is doing better than mine–”

The woman quickly returns with a short bearded man wearing a gray suit with red-tinted glasses that match his tie. 

“Y/N!” Tony shouts, embracing you in a dramatic hug. “You should’ve told me you were coming tonight! I could’ve put together a private booth in the back–”

“It was last-minute,” you say. “This is Natasha, by the way. She’s a friend.” Natasha is thrilled at the way you associate her with you.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Tony.” He takes her hand and gently kisses her knuckles. He doesn’t seem surprised you haven’t brought Wanda along instead. “I take it you haven’t been here before, Miss Natasha? You won’t need a menu, I’ll have the chef bring out the best dishes we have tonight.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you say. 

“Follow me! You can have a table in our east wing. Where’s Wanda?” Tony says rapid-fire, turning around and leading them deeper into the restaurant. You step out of the way and motion to let Natasha go first, and she feels your hand graze her back as she walks past you. 

“She’s out with her girlfriends for the weekend,” you answer from behind Natasha. 

“Your anniversary is coming up, right?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” you respond, your voice suddenly tense.

The restaurant is packed, every visible table filled with customers, until they turn around a corner to a quiet, completely empty area.

“Pick any table. I’ll have a waiter come out with some drinks shortly,” Tony says.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Natasha echoes, unsure if she likes this special treatment. You pick a table near the corner and pull her chair out for her. As soon as the two of you are seated, a waiter in a vested suit appears with a few bottles of wine, making suggestions and pouring samples into the glasses. Natasha doesn’t have enough knowledge to understand what he’s saying or differentiate the tastes, but she enjoys the experience. It feels strange to have someone serve her, when she’s normally the one waiting on people’s every demand. 

The two of you share several appetizers together. Natasha feels like she’s floating in a dream. You have been nothing but generous and respectful to her, but every time your left hand reaches across the table for the caviar, the wedding ring on your finger taunts her. 

The dinner itself is a four-course affair, including a rich chocolate cake that Natasha devours faster than she can fully enjoy. When the bill arrives (which Tony has already chopped in half), Natasha still asks if she can chip in (despite knowing full well she doesn’t have the money to cover even her portion), but you push her card away and give the waiter your black card.

The theater is three blocks from Tony’s restaurant, so you leave your car in valet parking and ask Natasha if she’s okay walking. She had not planned ahead very well, so she only has a thin cardigan to cover her shoulders. You notice her shivering and offer her your heavy black jacket that completely engulfs her frame. Your scent completely surrounds her now and Natasha swears she won’t wash this dress ever again.

The line into the theater moves quickly and Natasha follows you all the way down to the front, where your seats are perfectly center to the stage. She crawls over a few people, feeling a little smug about getting some of the best seats in the house. You had truly spoiled her tonight and she was never going to forget this. 

She leans over to whisper to you before the show begins. “Thank you for everything tonight. I’ve already had so much fun and the dinner was amazing.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for joining me, and thank you for all the hard work you do for my family,” you say and Natasha beams. “Me and Wanda really appreciate it.” Natasha deflates a little at the mention of your wife, but she pushes her out of her mind to focus on her time with you. 

As they wait, Natasha props her arm up on the armrest between you two so she can hold the playbill at a comfortable angle to read. Suddenly, your arm drops heavily on hers and she looks at you in confusion. You’re reading your own playbill and don’t seem to notice that your massive arm is practically crushing hers.

“Um, Y/N?” she prompts, clearing her throat.

“Hmm? Oh!” You quickly move your arm off hers. “I’m so sorry, I thought that was Wanda’s arm,” you explain with a nervous chuckle. Natasha laughs too, although she isn’t sure if she should be happy or worried that she reminds you of your wife. She’d be happy to take Wanda’s place any day, though. 

The musical is amazing, impressive beyond anything Natasha had ever expected. She cries when Elphaba defies gravity, and after the whirlwind of the second act, she is among the first to give a standing ovation. She’s floating on cloud nine as she walks with you out of the theater back to the car.

The drive back to your home is quick at the late hour. Just as you're about to pull into the driveway, you slam hard on the brakes, jolting everyone forward. Vision power walks past the beams of your headlights, only breaking the pump of his arms to wave in thanks.

“What is he doing out so late?” you ask, and Natasha is relieved to know she’s not the only one who thinks his habits are a bit odd.

“No idea,” she mumbles, watching you pull onto the driveway and stop.

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” Natasha says, still giddy with excitement.“This was the best night of my life. I’ve always wanted to see a Broadway show, ever since I was a little girl. I never thought I’d get the chance, even after I moved here–”

“You’re very welcome,” you interrupt, seeming almost shy with the praise.

“I’m sorry Wanda wasn’t able to join you for your own anniversary,” she adds, although she’s not sure why.

You shrug. “Nothing we can do about it now. Besides, I’m glad you were able to join me and had such a fun night. I don’t think this would have been nearly as fun by myself.”

There is a pause and Natasha has to force herself to stop looking at your lips. If she had no self-restraint, it wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean over the center console and kiss you.

“Have a good night, Natasha. Drive home safely,” you say as the two of you get out of the car.

“Thank you again!” Natasha doesn’t even listen to music on her way home, riding out the high of what was easily one of the most memorable nights of her life in over a decade.

***********************************************************************

A few weeks later, Natasha is working a double shift: the first one at Steve’s house, and the second at yours. You’re away at work, as usual, but she knows you’ll be home before she leaves for the day, and she never takes any glimpse of you for granted. Wanda is also back to being demanding and cranky, and Natasha has no idea if you told her about the night the two of you had together. She had felt the silent instruction from you not to blab about her taking Wanda’s place and was happy to keep the memories to herself.

She’s in the front hall, mopping while quietly humming “Defying Gravity” to herself, when Wanda clacks by in high-heels.

“Natasha!” she hisses. “Didn’t I tell you to start in the kitchen? If I slip out here because the floor is wet–”

“So sorry!” Natasha apologizes, hoping that she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I’ll put a fan on.” She rests her mop against the wall and darts off for the $300 Dyson fan in the closet. After pointing it towards the gleaming floor, she pushes her cart into the kitchen and continues mopping. She makes sure to open the window to air out the smell, and notices Steve across the street mowing his lawn. 

She stares at him, wondering if he can see her, and her question is quickly answered when Steve waves to her. She returns his wave with a smile, then goes back to her task before Wanda can complain she isn’t working hard enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him back away from his lawn mower and answer his phone; he disappears into his house hurriedly. 

“Natasha! Always make sure you open a window when you mop!” Wanda’s screech comes out of nowhere. “The chemicals you use give me a headache!”

“Oh, but the window is open–” Natasha tries to explain, but Wanda silences her with a wave of her hand.

“I’m on the phone!” she says, pointing to the cell phone held up to her ear. Natasha bites her lip, but holds her tongue. “Sorry, honey, what was that? No, I was talking to the maid,” she says. Natasha perks up despite the way Wanda titles her. You’re clearly on the other line, and maybe you’ll be home sooner than expected.

But Wanda disappears into a guest room (your house had so many of those), and Natasha can no longer hear her conversation. She dutifully continues to mop the floor, careful to fan the mop in a semi-circle pattern so as not to trap herself in a corner. She moves the chairs to the hallway one at a time, cursing their awkward shape that makes them difficult to carry and taking special care not to scrape the feet along the floor. 

Wanda’s shrill voice carries through the house again, this time covering a topic that makes Natasha’s cheeks heat up.

“Oh my God, yes, I’m still thinking about last night,” Wanda says. “When you had my legs behind my head–”

Natasha tries not to picture Wanda folded up like a pretzel while you plow into her. But she can imagine herself in a similar position (she’s not so confident in her own flexibility, but she’d make it work for you). Your hands could probably fit around her whole thighs as you push her legs apart wider, thrusting your hips in long strokes to fit your big dick into her. Natasha is embarrassed to admit that the last time she had masturbated, she had thought of you the whole time.

How much more you’d fill her compared to the flimsy toy she was using. How you would feel throbbing inside her, your body pressed hot and heavy against hers as you beg for her permission to finish. Imagining having you like that, with that kind of control, brought Natasha to the most amazing orgasm of her life. If only you had been there to share it with her. 

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to go another round, but you proved me wrong,” Wanda continues, and Natasha picks up on how breathless she sounds. She wonders if she’s touching herself right now, with Natasha mopping in the kitchen. Somehow, that wouldn’t be shocking to her. “You were still so hard when I put you down my throat.”

A lightning bolt of arousal strikes Natasha’s core. She can’t focus on mopping anymore, staring blankly out the kitchen window, lost in the new filthy fantasy playing in her head, guided by Wanda’s narration. 

Natasha lies between your legs, her lips barely brushing your hips as she takes your cock down her throat. She prays her gag reflex doesn’t protest at the obstruction in her airway, but despite the slight discomfort, she wants to do this all day. Your pants and moans are like music in her ears, urging her on to suck harder and take you deeper.

“Please Nat,” your voice wavers. The muscle fibers in your thighs are visibly tensed and your back arches off the bed when Natasha pushes your hips down, trying to maintain some kind of control over you. But your body seems to have a mind of its own, with only one goal in mind. 

“It’s almost like I can still taste you.”

You poke at the back of her throat and Natasha can feel the hot throbbing of your cock in her mouth. She’s so eager to swallow anything you’ll give her, she’s almost embarrassed in her desperation, but when your hands cup the back of her head, pushing her down so she can fit the last inch down her throat, she knows the two of you are on equal planes of passion.

Your entire body flexes and the anticipation for Natasha is overwhelming. You finally inhale sharply as the first hot spurt lands on her tongue. 

“Being on your knees for me is a good look for you.”

Natasha tips her head back against the wall, her fingers tangling in your hair. One of her legs rests on your shoulder while the other is spread far apart so you can kneel between them, your mouth pressed against her heat. Your tongue swirls around her clit and Natasha fears she won’t be able to stay standing much longer. 

“Y/N,” she pants, clutching your head tighter and rocking her hips forward. “I need you.”

Your fingernails dig harder into her thigh to still her. You look up into her eyes and Natasha thinks she’s going to finish right there. “You have me, baby. I’m all yours.”

“But there’s really only one place you belong.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you grunt, almost sending Natasha headfirst into the headboard with every one of your thrusts. “I could stay inside you forever.”

Natasha hums at the praise. She’s holding on the bedsheets for life, spasming and clenching around you, trying to pull you in deeper. You fill her so perfectly, she’s convinced her body was made for yours. 

“Tell me I’m better than her,” Natasha gasps, fighting to delay her own release.

“Fuck Wanda,” you grunt, pulling back on Natasha’s hips at the same time you thrust forward, burying your entire length into her. “I love you, Natasha. You’re the only one I ever want to be with.”

A noisy car engine pulls Natasha out of her head. Her face feels flushed with arousal, and she knows what she’s doing the second she goes home. Your green car suddenly pulls into the driveway but stops. You get out and walk to the street, grabbing one of the trash bins and pulling it towards the house.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me again,” Wanda says in the background.

The realization crashes down on Natasha’s head like a cold shower. She watches you grab the second bin with both hands, carefully walking backwards with it.

You’re not on the phone and you’re standing 30 feet away from Natasha. If Wanda’s not on the phone with you, then who is she talking to?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Who do you think Wanda was talking to? 👀

To be continued...(hopefully)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[trashytracktales]

Heyy girliee, first of all I want to say that your writing is absolutely amazing. I’ve been reading your Lando fics for the past couple of days and “endings, beginnings” had me feeling butterflies in my stomach 🫢 I wanted to ask you if you could write something about lando and reader being friends but constantly having sexual tension building up between them. Maybe they flirt with each other but never think of it as something so serious and one night after a party they completely destroy each other. I fully trust you with this and how you’ll develop the story haha and don’t hold back. Thank youuu :*

Think twice | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for the love on Endings, beginnings & I appreciate you for taking the time to share this. Hope you like it 🤍🎀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── What starts as a chill party, where they sit in their old habits, ends with new boundaries crossed and a heavy tension they can no longer ignore.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, friends to lovers, bit of jealous!Lando, smut, slight teasing, praising, fingering & oral (sit on it), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.8k

𐙚 date ──── Jan. 21, 2025

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE TWO OF them are always standing next to each other, no matter the room they’re in. The context, just like the reason why this happens, is redundant. Plus, they don’t even do it on purpose; rather, they are unconsciously drawn to each other like two magnets.

The party has finally slowed to a lazy hum, the music just a tolerable background noise now. People linger in clusters around them, their voices a distant murmur blending with the faint bassline of a forgotten playlist. The living room is dim, lit mostly by the glow of a string of fairy lights drooping across the ceiling.

It was supposed to be a small gathering, but then a friend told a friend, and that friend told their friends. And now, it’s almost impossible to find a private spot to catch your breath without breathing someone else’s air.

Somehow, they did. They are tucked into the corner of a couch, their space a small bubble of comfort. Her legs are draped over his lap, bare skin warm against the fabric of his black jeans. He’s cradling her calf in one hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin.

Her fingers thread through his curls at the back of his head, twirling them lazily. It’s a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver through him every time she does it.

Their conversation shifted into easy gossiping about a mutual friend — someone they both think is trying a bit too hard with their Instagram posts.

“It’s fucking obvious he’s fishing for attention,” says Lando, sounding almost conspiratorial.

“I know, right? The cryptic ass captions, the mirror selfies. He thinks he’s smooth with it, too,” she replies, giggling at the thought.

Lando grins, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. The banter feels safe, the kind of effortless connection they’ve always had. But underneath it, there’s a quiet tension that neither of them is ready to address. Because they are, maybe, a bit tipsy, or because none of them has ever had the courage to take it further, for some reason.

“Alright, I need to pee,” she announces suddenly, getting ready to stand.

But Lando tightens his grip on her legs, his lips twitching in a smirk. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “If I don’t go, I might pee on you.”

Lando shrugs, “Go ahead. Then I might discover a new kink,” he encourages her.

“New?” she laughs. “That implies you already have at least one.”

Lando winks at her without saying a word, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile.

She rolls her eyes, smiling back at his immature behavior. “My God. You’re actually the worst. Move.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Lando, just stares at her with an expression that’s visibly different. His usual playful gaze has shifted to something more intense, and she tells herself he’s just a little... intoxicated. Still, it makes her heart skip a beat, because he looks so adorable when his eyes focus on something so intently. And so hot, that it makes her almost forget why she wanted to get up in the first place.

“Lan, I’m not joking, I actually have to go,” she whispers, her voice softer now.

He exhales, loosening his grip but not before giving her leg a small, reluctant squeeze.

“Don’t get lost,” he says, the words carrying more weight than they should.

She shakes her head, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the hallway. Lando watches her go, his eyes trailing after her like he’s afraid she might actually not come back.

Which is ridiculous, because he should not care. There are lots of other girls that he can take home tonight if he wants to.

Want, being the keyword.

Leaning back against the couch, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s always known she was the embodiment of the perfect girl for him — funny, kind, and loyal. But tonight, there’s something else in the air that makes his mind wander. The way she carries herself, her laugh, the way she makes everything around her seem brighter.

Lando realized long ago that he wants to he in her presence. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. And he still feels that punch sometimes, especially when he sees her interacting with other people. Especially men.

He’s had thoughts about her before. Many thoughts. Wild fantasies he brushed off as nothing more than fleeting curiosity. And they’ve joked about it, too, their drunken ‘if we’re single at 35’ pact a favorite running gag. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like a joke — he might actually marry her if she keeps letting him invade her personal space like that. Except she wouldn’t have let Lando do that if she didn’t want him there.

He finds himself smiling at his own thoughts. But then, an unwanted stiffness claws his body.

She’s on the way back when a guy leaning against the wall near the bathroom is blocking her path. He’s tall, too close for Lando’s liking, and he is gesturing animatedly. She’s always too polite, smiling as she talks, but Lando notices the way she shifts her weight, edging away slightly.

Something close to jealousy ignites in his chest, but he manages to tame the feeling by looking away, and forcing himself to take a slow sip of his drink. She can handle herself, he knows that. But he’s also ready to step in, just in case he needs to. Most men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s aware of how insistent some of them can be.

When she finally returns, Lando’s mood has shifted drastically, and she notices it the second she looks at him.

“Hey, you good?” she asks, plopping back down and swinging her legs over his lap again.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, his hand resuming its absent stroking on her shin.

Her brows knit together. “Not you lying to me. Come on, Landinho, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” he insists, but his tone is clipped, and his eyes won’t quite meet hers.

She punches his arm lightly, trying to break through whatever wall he’s just put up. “You sure?”

He looks at her then, and the vulnerability in his gaze takes her breath away. “Sure,” he says. But his hand tightens slightly on her leg, like he’s holding onto her in more ways than one.

Her heart clenches. Lando is her friend, the one person she can always count on, but in this moment, she feels the air between them growing in different direction. It’s not the first time, and it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but it’s not easy for her to sit in it, either.

“You’re being weird,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice wavers.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, forcing a small smile. “Just tired,” adds Lando, but there’s something he hides behind his eyes, something that makes her chest ache.

She studies his face, her teasing words dying on her lips. His eyes are heavy-lidded, the usual spark dulled by the late hour and maybe one drink too many. His movements are slow, lazy, his thumb still caressing her skin.

“I can see that,” she says gently, sliding her legs off his lap. “Up. Come with me?”

The sudden loss of contact pulls him out of his haze, “Where?” asks Lando, his voice faintly slurred with exhaustion.

“Do you trust me?” she replies with a knowing smile, standing up and extending a hand to him. “My god, Lando. My friend gave me keys to one of the rooms upstairs in case I wanted to crash.”

He hesitates, glancing at her outstretched hand before finally letting out a soft laugh and taking it.

They make their way upstairs, the faint thump of music growing quieter with each step. The room isn’t far, tucked at the end of a hallway. She unlocks the door, revealing a small but cozy space. The room is dimly lit, with a single bedside lamp casting a muted glow over the single bed that’s pressed against one wall, a small dresser, and an armchair in the corner.

Lando steps in behind her, the faint hum of the party fading as the door clicks shut. His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the space. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning the key with a soft click, locking them in; the sound feels final, and heavier than it should.

Lando notices the bed immediately, his eyes narrowing briefly before he rubs the back of his neck, a gesture that betrays his unease. His voice is low and uncertain as he says, “You know what, I can crash on the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small smile as she watches him fidget. “You can,” she agrees, knowing that Lando has the superpower to fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place or how loud the background noise is. “Unfortunately, I locked the door,” she adds with fake concern in her voice.

Lando glances at her, his expression caught somewhere between playful and wary. “Yeah. You can unlock it, though.”

“But I won’t,” she replies, her smile softening, her words carrying an unspoken challenge that Lando catches immediately.

His lips part, and for a moment, he says nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then, quietly, his voice dipping lower, he says, “Then don’t.”

His words linger between them, and she feels the weight of his gaze as it shifts to her. There’s no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the lighthearted Lando she’s used to.

She lets her arms fall to her side, her pulse quickening.

Lando’s chest rises and falls steadily, though there’s a tautness to his posture. His gaze darts back to the bed, then to her, and she swears she sees a flicker of something in his eyes — fear? Desire? Anticipation?

His jaw tightens, his eyes searching hers, and she feels the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them both. Every glance, every touch, every joke that lingered a second too long — it’s all there, bubbling to the surface.

The tension between them that has simmered for months, maybe even years, suddenly feels unbearable. Lando’s eyes meet hers once again, and the quiet resolve in her gaze breaks something inside him. And then, suddenly, a glance he catches from her it’s all it takes. The restraint he’s held onto for so long snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Before he knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, his hands cupping her face as his lips crash against hers.

She responds instantly, her hands tangling in his curls as she pulls him closer. The kiss is all-consuming, months of buried feelings and unsaid words spilling out in a rush. It’s intoxicating, a heavy blend of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her cherry lip balm. His lips are soft, impossibly so, molding against hers like they were made to fit. The taste of him is dizzying, a perfect balance of warmth and want, and each movement of his mouth sends sparks of heat rippling through her.

It’s overwhelming, the way Lando kisses her — gentle, but with a growing intensity that leaves her breathless, her heart pounding as if it’s trying to match the rhythm of his. His fingers trail down to her neck, squeezing lightly and pulling her against him as they stumble backward toward the bed.

“Do you know how long—” he begins against her lips, his voice rough with need.

“Too long,” she cuts him off with another kiss while her fingers are rushing to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Lando groans as they tumble onto the bed. Their breaths are loud and uneven, filling the small space as their lips crash together again, need and desire fueling every movement. Her palm presses against the small of his back, coaxing him between her legs. He instinctively follows her guidance, his body lowering against hers until his forehead rests on hers. At that, Lando sighs, not with frustration but a soft exasperation that halts them both.

“Are we… okay?” he asks, half-amused and half-concerned. “We shouldn’t—we should not do this. Not like this.”

She doesn’t release him, her hands still on his sides, her legs loosely wrapped around him. “We are,” she assures him, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s just us, Lando.”

His brows furrow, his lips parting in disbelief. “I know. I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and—”

Her hands move to his face, cupping it firmly and forcing him to look directly at her. “Regret it?” the girl asks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Don’t be silly. You know this isn’t about tonight. I’ve wanted you for a while now. I know you do, too.”

His eyes flicker with something raw, and he swallows hard. “I do,” he agrees. “But. It’d be such a waste to mess it up.”

The weight of his confession settles over them, and he falls onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they both stare up at the ceiling, their fingers brushing tentatively before intertwining. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the party faintly bleeding through the walls.

And then, “You’re such a good kisser, by the way,” she finally breaks the silence.

He lets out a chuckle, visibly affected. “You’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m already messed up because of you, Lan,” she confesses, turning onto her side, her fingers finding his arm and tracing slow patterns along its length. “I trust us. No matter the outcome.”

Her hand travels to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone before moving to his jaw. She traces the line of it, her touch light but electrifying. Finally, her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her gaze following her movements so closely, as if she wants to devour him.

Their thoughts run wild, revisiting every stolen glance, the tension, the want — it’s always been there. Every moment brought them here.

And now?

“Do you, really?” asks Lando, his voice laced with curiosity.

She nods, her hands sliding down to rest over his, her fingers curling around his. “Completely. I trust us to figure it out as we go. Don’t you?”

He lets her words settle, a warmth spreading through his body. He does. But he still has to think twice before agreeing to something so drastic, especially when he is faced with something he wants so badly that it makes him burn with impatience.

Finally, Lando sighs, looking at her.

“It’s not a big deal, right?” she says with a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with both affection and relief. “We’ve always been good at just... being us.”

He smiles at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “That’s true. We’re pretty fucking great at that.”

Lando’s breathing hitches as she guides his hand to her ass, pressing it against her curves with an undeniable confidence. His grip tightens instinctively, and she drapes a leg over his waist, pulling herself closer. Their eyes lock, her fingers tracing his features, as if committing every contour to memory. They’ve never been so close to each other, and the intimacy of the moment makes his heart race, while hers almost melts under the warmth of his body.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he admits matter-of-factly.

Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Hopefully,” she whispers, her hand traveling south, to work on unbuttoning his jeans.

Lando swallows hard, his gaze darkening as he grips her tighter. “If I fuck you tonight…” his voice drops, laced with a possessiveness that makes her shiver. “I won’t be able to let another guy come anywhere near you again.”

Her eyebrows arch in surprise, finally able to put the pieces together, understanding why Lando was acting so strange earlier.

“Are you jealous, Lando?” she teases, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in her tone.

Lando’s response is silent; instead, he leans in, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck. He sucks lightly, then harder, leaving a blooming hickey that makes her gasp.

When he pulls back, his voice is firm, “No, I just want people to stay away from what’s mine.”

Her breath catches, and before she can stop herself, the word escapes her lips in a near-whisper. “Yours.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the intensity in his gaze speak for him. She pushes at his chest, making him fall back against the mattress with a soft laugh, and crawls on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips.

Impatiently, her hands work on his shirt, pushing it up his chest. “Off,” she demands, tugging until he lifts his arms and lets her pull it over his head.

His hands waste no time, slipping under her skirt and pulling at the lace of her panties. “These,” he says quickly, his breath warm against her collarbone, “are in my way.”

With a sharp pull, he slides them down her thighs, and she shivers as the cool air kisses her damp skin. She leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment as he guides her hips forward, her bare core pressing against the warmth of his abs. The firm ridges of muscle beneath her send a jolt of pleasure through her body, and she lets out a soft moan.

Lando’s hand tightens on her hip, his thumb brushing over her skin. “Look at that,” he breathes heavily, “What got you so excited, hm?”

She whimpers at his words, the heat pooling in her cheeks as much as between her thighs. “Don’t—” she mumbles into his neck, her voice muffled and shy.

He chuckles softly, the vibration of it against her skin making her shudder. “No, that’s so hot,” he teases, moving her hips just slightly so she drags against him. His own breath catches, and his hips shift upward, pressing the hardness of his length against her thigh. “You feel what you’re doing to me? It’s mutual.”

She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his as she lets her fingers trail down his chest. Next, she adjusts herself as her hand slides lower, brushing against the waistband of his pants before she pushes them down just enough to free him. His cock springs free, and she bites her lip at the sight of it, her own arousal growing as she reaches out to wrap her hand around him.

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and full of longing.

As she leans down to press her lips to his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipple, a sound escapes him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She glances up again, amused. “Well,” she teases, her voice playful but sultry, “I think I just found your new kink.”

Lando lets out a weak chuckle, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her back up to kiss her. “Shut up,” he speaks over her lips, but the way his hips buck against her hand tells her she’s right. “Everything you do is my kink,” he whispers, the rawness in his voice making her heart race.

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and with a playful glint in her eye, her hand squeezes his cock lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. “Sorry,” she giggles, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to make sure.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk before his hands cup her ass firmly, pressing her harder against him. His voice is rough and dripping with need as he almost begs, “Come sit on my face.”

The unexpected plea is leaving her breathless, painting her face in confusion. “What?” she stammers, her voice nearly swallowed by the thrum of arousal coursing through her.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Lando assures her, his tone insistent, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

Without waiting for her to argue, he pushes her skirt up around her waist, revealing the soft skin of her thighs, and pulls her closer to his face. She hesitates for a moment, her nerves warring with her desire, but when his strong hands guide her gently and his lips press a teasing kiss against her inner thigh, she gives in. The first swipe of his tongue against her entrance makes her gasp, her hand flying to the wall to steady herself.

Lando groans as he tastes her, the sound vibrating against her core and sending shockwaves through her body. One arm wraps tightly around her thigh, anchoring her to him, while his free hand drifts down to his cock, stroking himself in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. Her moans spill into the air, mixing with his as Lando’s mouth works her over like a man starved, warm and wet and utterly relentless.

“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky as the intensity builds. Her hips jerk against his mouth instinctively, and he responds by pulling her even closer, burying his face deeper between her legs.

His tongue flicks, swirls, and presses in all the right places, and she can barely keep herself upright. She has to press both of her palms on the wall, but even then it’s not enough to keep her grounded. Not when Lando laps at her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still as her body begins to tremble.

“You taste so fucking good,” he informs her between strokes of his tongue, his words muffled but clear enough to make her toes curl.

As her breaths turn shallow and erratic, she feels the pressure coiling tightly in her abdomen. Lando senses it, too, and his grip tightens, his movements growing more fervent. “Wanna come for me?” he asks as impatient as she is.

Before she can even process his question, her climax crashes into her like a tidal wave, her thighs trembling around his head as her moans echo through the room. Lando doesn’t stop, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every pulse and tremor until she’s gasping for air.

In one swift, effortless motion, he pulls her down onto the bed and flips her over, positioning himself above her. His lips are slick, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust as he pumps two fingers into her, the wet heat of her still clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his thumb brushing against her sensitive clit as his fingers curl inside. “Let me feel you.”

Her body arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crests over her, Lando’s name spilling from her lips in breathless cries. The sheer intensity of his touch and the quickness of it all leave her spinning, her mind barely able to keep up as he drives her over the edge once more.

By the time her breathing begins to steady, Lando leans down, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss, tasting her satisfaction on his tongue. He grins against her mouth, utterly smug but entirely captivated.

“See how fucking delicious you are?” he whispers, and she can only nod, still lost in the aftermath of him unraveling her completely.

Seeing the pleasure etched across her face, Lando can barely hold it together. His hands tremble slightly as he shoves his jeans and boxers down for good, freeing himself at last. His cock, heavy and flushed, rests against her thigh, the warmth of her skin giving him goosebumps. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers as he pauses for just a moment, meeting her gaze with a mix of vulnerability and pure lust.

“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Lando, his voice hiding too much desire under its raspy tone.

His eyes search hers, looking for any hint of doubt. Luckily, there is none. She just nods frantically, her hands sliding down his back to cup the firm muscles of his ass.

Her touch sends electricity through him, and she guides him where she needs him most, her body arching in anticipation. “I want you. Please.”

Without breaking eye contact, he sinks into her, and the world stops for both of them. His head falls forward, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he feels her warmth envelop him, her slick heat drawing him in effortlessly. Her body opens for him so easily, so perfectly, that it steals his breath. The tension that had coiled tightly in her frame melts away as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.

Her arms encircle his shoulders, holding him tightly while she gasps Lando’s name. Her voice is music to his ears, and he presses his forehead against hers, the connection between them both overwhelming, yet grounding. Her fingers slide into his curls, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck as her hips shift instinctively, adjusting to his size.

“God, you feel…” he trails off, unable to find the words. Instead, he lets his body speak for him, drawing back before thrusting forward again. His movements are purposeful and powerful, each one making the bed creak slightly beneath them and pushing her up and down the sheets.

Her lips part with soft cries, her fingers tightening in his hair as her body meets each of his thrusts. “Lando,” she moans, her voice full of need and adoration, spurring him on. “Yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”

He catches her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her sounds as his hands wander over her body. His fingers hook under the hem of her t-shirt, and he tugs it upward, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin, flushed and glistening, takes his breath away. Her breasts are adorned with black lace, and the contrast against her skin ignites something primal in him.

“Stunning,” says Lando just as his hand drifts to her chest, brushing over the delicate fabric.

The way she arches into his touch, her nails scraping lightly against his shoulders, drives him wild. His thrusts deepen, his hips moving with purpose as the room fills with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her moans, and his ragged breaths.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps. His jaw clenches as he feels her tightening around him. “You’re killing me. So tight and—”

Before he can finish, she pulls him into a kiss. It’s shallow, their lips barely meeting as they breathe each other’s air. Her nails dig into his back, her legs trembling as she holds him as close as humanly possible.

“You’re so good, Lando,” she murmurs, her voice quivering, her praise like gasoline on his fire. “My favorite boy.”

Her words send him over the edge of control, his hips stuttering as he thrusts deep inside her, feeling her walls begin to flutter and clench around his cock. Her back arches, her head burying into the pillow as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Again.

Her moans are unfiltered, and she clutches him like he’s her lifeline, while Lando stills inside her, groaning low and long as her body grips him so tightly that knocks the air out of his lungs. He presses his forehead against her chest, their breaths hurried as her aftershocks pulse around him so sweetly. Her nails scrape lightly down his back, grounding them both, continuing to whisper his name like a prayer.

It’s enough for Lando to surrender to his own orgasm, his body trembling as wave after wave of release takes him over. He stays buried inside her, unwilling to part just yet. The warm tightness around him makes him shudder, his hand gripping her thigh to anchor himself.

When he finally pulls out, he hesitates before pressing his knee between her legs, feeling the slick warmth of their combined arousal smearing against his skin. She squirms against him, her overstimulated body trembling, her hips shifting involuntarily as aftershocks ripple through her.

Lando watches her, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his voice husky as he whispers, “Forget 35. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

She exhales sharply, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m down,” she teases, her tone light but affectionate. “Let’s book the venue now.”

He looks at her, gaze softening, filled with something deeper as he reaches behind her and, with one measured motion, unclasps her bra. The suddenness of it catches her off guard, her eyes widening as he tosses it aside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before she can say a word, Lando leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his shirt. He finds it, holding it up, then tugging it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.

“Perfect fit,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against her arms as he helps her adjust it. The gesture makes her chest tighten, her heart swelling with an ache she doesn’t fully understand yet.

After that, Lando slides back into his boxers and pulls the covers over both of them. The bed is small, forcing their bodies to press together in a tangle of limbs. It doesn’t feel awkward, though. It feels like a new home, safe and peaceful.

He rests his head on her chest, his breath warm and steady against her, while his hand absently caresses her through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing over her nipple. Everything about the moment feels somehow so normal, like they’ve been this way forever.

The silence stretches on, so comforting, until she suddenly breaks it with a soft groan. “I have to pee again.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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© trashy track tales, 2025

[sailorsoons]

Amnesia (c.sc)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

Summary: Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another. 

Word Count: 11,920

Genre: Friends with benefits to lovers 

Type: Smut, Angst if you squint 

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Under the cut

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2: Thank you @yoongukie-ff for sending me your original reblog of this to pull the summary information from. I appreciate you and I love you!

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Warnings: Recreational drinking, mild jealousy from both reader and Cheol, themes of self doubt/relationship doubt, light depictions of anxiety regarding ambiguous relationships, explicit language, Cheol and reader are both idiots, explicit sexual content including oral (f. and m. receiving), vaginal fingering, nipple stim, breath play if you squint, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of bodily fluids like spit and cum, multiple smut scenes, hair pulling, light spanking, sub-space adjacent feelings, being a lil silly goofy during sex sometimes, stupid ass nicknames at the end because I’m a millennial and I’m cringe sometimes. 

DAY ONE

You’re a goner as soon as you lay eyes on him. You know it before Jeonghan properly introduces you, shouting over the rock music that is blaring in the dive bar you like to hang out at on Friday nights. The neon from the sign creates a blue silhouette around Seungcheol as he smiles and holds a hand out to you. You can barely pull yourself together to shake his hand - warm, firm - too busy staring at his face. 

Choi Seungcheol is what your best friend Vin likes to call pretty motherfuckin handsome. He’s got dark, warm eyes that light up playfully when they meet yours, full lips the color of crushed rose petals, a square, firm jawline and silky dark hair that falls in his eyes when he tilts his face down to hide a smile at something Jeonghan says. 

Crushed against the wall of the booth, you feel the cold glass of your beer warm against your palms as you steal glances at Seungcheol. He’s directly across from you, angling his broad shoulders to fit snug into the corner of the booth, lounging backward as he observes the argument brewing between Joshua and Jeonghan. 

He even dresses well. Fitted t-shirt paired with light wash jeans and boots, a fancy watch reflecting the burning neon on the wall next to him, delicate chain necklaces tucked into the collar of his shirt. 

It’s the way he wears them that speaks to you, though. 

“Do they do this often?” his deep voice drags you from your reverie. You blink, gathering yourself when you realize he’s leaning forward a little, addressing you. He sips his beer before tilting the tip of the bottle toward Jeonghan and Joshua. “It’s like they're married.”

“You have no idea. Wait until game night.” 

“Oh yeah. Jeonghan told me about game night.” Seungcheol’s mouth twitches in a smile. “You’ll be there?” 

“Every Sunday. Do you like games?” 

Something about the glint in his eye makes your stomach flip. You sip your beer just to give you something to do, feeling more drunk off the easy confidence he exudes as he shrugs. “Depends on the game. I’m competitive.” 

“So am I.”

He grins. “I look forward to it, then.” 

Warming up to Seungcheol is easy. He’s the new hire at Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s office, and they both felt confident enough to bring him into the fold. You can see why - he’s kind and funny, and there’s a charm to him that draws the people around him like moths to a flame. Even with just the four of you sitting in the booth, you feel the magnetism. 

Friday nights at Rusty’s has been a tradition with Jeonghan and Joshua since you had been in college, filling yourself on five dollar wings, three dollar beers and occasionally lukewarm mozzarella sticks. Normally Vin, Wonwoo and Mingyu would be around, but tonight it’s just the smaller group. 

Jeonghan and Joshua slide out of the booth to play darts, shoving one another back and forth, the drink in their step making them a little off balance. You smile fondly as you pluck another beer out of the bucket of ice, struggling to pop the top, your wet hands sliding against the metal cap. 

Wordlessly, Seungcheol holds his hand out. Flushing from the neck down, you hand it over to him with a silent thank you. He pops the top easily, bicep flexing for a moment before he passes it back over, shooting you an award winning grin. 

“Wow, so strong.”

He pouts and you swear you see stars. “Hey, I am strong.” 

“No, no, you are. Thank you.” 

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.” 

“Huh.” You sip your beer, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. It does nothing to soothe the heat spreading over your skin under the sole attention of Seungcheol. “I don’t remember that being a rule.” 

“I never was one to play by the rules anyway.” 

“Oh, so you’re saying you cheat at games like Jeonghan does.” 

“I like winning.”

You roll your eyes. From the edge of your vision, you see people leave the pool table. Eager to stand up and stretch your legs, you start to slide out of the booth, the wood grain scratching against your jeans as you do. 

“Come on then, cheater. Let’s play pool.” 

“I’m down.” 

Seungcheol follows you. Your fingers grip the glass of your drink tight, knuckles straining. You move around tables and duck around other patrons, hyper aware of the way Seungcheol keeps close to you, the heat of him against your back. 

Next to the rows of dart boards are two pool tables, the felt a faded green with beer stains and other mysterious smudges on the surface. You grab a cue from the rack on the wall, spin it in your hands, and hand it over to Seungcheol. He eyes it, running his fingers along the splintered and dented wood.

Grabbing your cue in one hand and the triangle rack and set it on the table while he collects the balls from the table and the pockets, rolling them over to you. A few feet away, Joshua is already accusing Jeonghan of cheating. You don’t know how you cheat in darts, but you do know if there is a will, Jeonghan will find a way.

“Dangerous to let them have sharp objects,” Seungcheol notes, sliding the last ball over to you. You huff out a laugh, rolling the rack of billiard balls back and forth to set them. “You’re not going to get violent with me, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to cheat?”

His smile is wicked. “Me? Definitely not.” 

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

Seungcheol presses the flat of his palm over his chest, drawing your eyes to how thick he is in the chest area. You swallow thickly as he says, “Cross my heart.” 

“Whatever you say. What are we playing for?” 

“What will you give me?” 

You look up at the shift in his tone. Dark. Flirty. He leans against the pool table, resting his hip casually as he crosses his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his arms flex, totally focused on the way his eyes are only for you. Intent. Meaningful. 

A warning goes off in your head. You already feel the pull to him, the innate attraction that has your heart hammering. You should brush off the flirtation, move on to other things. Relationships aren’t really your thing, but there’s something about him that makes you know you’ll want more. 

You already do want more. 

“What do you want?” you ask softly, ignoring your better judgment. 

When Seungcheol smiles, you know you’d give him anything. Everything.

“I can think of something, I think.”

-

DAY SEVEN

“I like this,” Seungcheol says, voice rough from use. He buttons his jeans, looking over at you. You’re still half-alive on your bed, a sheen of sweat covering your body. The sheets stick to you when you roll to look at him. “Are you good with casual?”

You’re only half listening, too distracted by his flexing abs. “Hmm?”

Seungcheol looks good tonight. He looks good every night, but tonight he’s in dark jeans and a white sweater. The sweater looks soft like his hair, which has grown longer and hangs in his eyes as he looks down to slip on his shoes. 

“I’m not really looking for a relationship at the moment but this,” he answers, flicking his fingers between the two of you. “It’s good.” 

“Agreed. I’m good with casual. I’m a little too busy for anything more.” 

It’s not a lie. You are too busy to really commit to someone. Again, a warning goes off in your mind like that first night you met him, screaming danger. You ignore it, not ready to give up Seungcheol just yet. 

He grins, pulling his short back over his head. “Cool. If you ever don’t want to or whatever though, let me know, yeah?”

“You too.” 

-

DAY TEN 

Seungcheol [2:06 AM]: Come home with me You [2:06 AM]: Everyone would notice Seungcheol [2:07 AM]: Tell them where you’re going who caaaares Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Unless you don’t want to tell them then that’s ok Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: I personally don’t care if they know I’m rearranging your guts most nights :)  You [2:10 AM]: CHEOL You [2:10 AM]: Fine pls hold my hand while I do this. They’re going to roast me Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Holding your hand sooo tight Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: But from like over here tho  You [2:19 AM]: That was so embarrassing. Where did you go Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: She’s so brave, she’s well behaved Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: Standing outside hurry it's cold as dick out here

Seungcheol [4:38 AM]: Don’t forget to text me when you make it home  You [4:52 AM]: Home safe!  

-

DAY TWENTY THREE

You [11:10 PM]: Wyd Seungcheol [11:34 PM]: Need it that bad? You [11:39 PM]: Wow goodnight!!!!! Seungcheol [11:39 PM]: Nah come back Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: COME BACK Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: Omw. Unlock the door You [11:45 PM]: Need it that bad?  Seungcheol [11:45 PM]: Yes actually :) 

-

DAY THIRTY

You slide your finger across the phone, curious as you pick up Seungcheol’s phone call. “Hello?”

“Are you hungry?” 

You look at your watch. It’s almost one in the afternoon, your stomach growling as it realizes that yeah you are kind of hungry. “Actually yeah. Why?” 

“I had to run errands and I’m by your place and starving. Wanna get lunch?” 

Your lips twitch in a smile. Leaning against the counter, you press the phone against you a little closer. “Sure, what did you have in mind?” 

“Do you like Greek?” You hum in assent, chewing on your fingernail nervously. You can hear him get into his car, pausing momentarily as he starts it and curses at how hot it is. You can’t help but laugh. “Alright, pick you up in ten?”

“Alright.” 

-

DAY FORTY THREE

He’s not yours. You tell yourself that over and over again as you try not to look across the bar where Seungcheol is sitting for the nth time. You’d noticed him immediately when you and Vin walked in, clocking his wide frame and familiar laugh with a precision that makes you curse yourself.

Now, Seungcheol is leaning against a high top, talking to a pretty girl sitting on a stool next to him. He’d waved at you earlier and shot you a smile and a wink, but he’s with friends you’re unfamiliar with tonight, and hasn’t come over.

Not that you expect him to. He isn’t yours and the casual thing you’ve got going means he can do whatever he wants, no strings attached.

So why is your heart in your throat as you glance over to see the girl laughing at something he’s said? They’re not alone but somehow that isn’t comforting at all. You pick at the varnish on the table to distract yourself, suddenly interested in the splinters and not the man across the bar from you.

Finishing the rest of your beer, you pull out another, hoping that the hoppy taste erases the icky feeling that settles on your skin. You’re not participating in conversation much, but if your friends notice, they have the decency not to call you out. 

At least Vin knows what’s up, checking on you every once in a while. Thankfully she doesn’t say anything, occasionally giving you a squeeze instead. She knows the deal, understanding the irrationality between wanting to control something that isn’t yours to control. 

Halfway through your beer, your phone vibrates. You flip it over and your heart starts pounding when you see Seungcheol’s name come across the screen, a message waiting to be read. With a shaky hand, you slide your thumb across the screen to unlock it, the message popping up.

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: Wanna come back to mine? 

Surprised, you look up from your phone to where he’s still at the high top. His phone is in his hands and he’s looking right at you, flashing a grin when you meet his eyes. The girl is still sitting next to him, but his attention is entirely on you now, pinning you to the spot. 

Your phone vibrates again and you glance down, your phone’s brightness stark in the gloom of the bar. 

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: You’re cute when you’re surprised You [12:14 AM]: What, the girl you were talking to said no? Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: I didn’t ask her. I asked you Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: Omg wait are you jealous?? You [12:14 AM]: No You [12:14 AM]: Definitely not  Seungcheol [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me is Hades for a liar or whatever You [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another, loser Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Same thing Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: But seriously, I have no interest in her. I’m asking YOU Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Will beg from my knees in this bar Seungcheol [12:19 AM]: Even tho the floor is kind of gross You [12:20 AM]: I mean, if you’re offering to get on your knees…

You’re not sure if you trust his answer about not being interested in the other girl, but it doesn’t matter. You still end up leaning against him in an Uber, his hand squeezing your thigh playfully as he leans his forehead on the window, eyes closed to enjoy the cool glass. 

He is so handsome, face glowing red as the car stops at a stoplight. You examine him closely, eyes dragging from the soft curve of his mouth to his impossibly silk lashes. You’d told him once that most girls would kill for those lashes, and now he likes to bat them at you every time he wants something. 

The car starts moving and you look away from him, taking in a deep breath. Seungcheol isn’t yours, but you’re starting to think you want him to be. 

DAY FIFTY TWO

“Is it weird if I bring a bag of shit to stay?” Seungcheol’s voice is shy over the receiver. You grip your phone tighter, biting your bottom lip to hide your smile as you roll onto your side in bed, snuggling into the pillow more. It smells like him, bergamot and cedarwood. “You can tell me if that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all,” you say carefully, too nervous to scare him off. “You usually end up sleeping here anyway.” 

Usually really means always. He’s been doing that more recently, crashing at your apartment after coming over and vice versa. You’ve gone from Uber rides home at dawn to waking up curled into his back. He’s the first person you’ve ever let loiter in your space as much as he has, but you try not to think about it too much, as though just the acknowledgement might spook him.

Whatever thing between you feels fragile, a rare, glass menagerie set that can shatter if handled wrong. Friends with benefits is what you call it, but you’re not quite sure if that’s what it is.

“Okay cool. Waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go back to my place and shower sucks.” 

“I do have a shower.”

“Oh I’m aware. It’s one of my favorite places in your apartment.” 

Your stomach flutters and you clench your thighs together. Looking at the clock on your nightstand, you realize it’s getting late. “Better hurry,” you murmur. “I might be too tired for a shower when you get here.” 

His chuckle is deep. Throaty. “I’ll speed, then.” 

After hanging up, you toss your phone to the end of your bed and stare at the ceiling. Outside, the city hums beyond the window of your apartment. The lights in your home are mostly turned off, a single lamp providing low light in the living room so Seungcheol can see when he comes in, and a flickering candle on your nightstand and in the bathroom. 

Your bed is warm and you do feel sleepy, but the excitement of seeing Seungcheol keeps you awake well enough. You try not to think of that too much, either. He was just there a few nights prior, and already he’s on his way back. Like it’s common. Routine. 

And it sort of is, you guess. You hangout with Seungcheol almost more than you see Vin and Jeonghan these days, and you’re almost always spending the night together. You know his favorite late night snacks, you know the type of coffee he likes to make in the morning before work, and you know about his family, his stresses at work. What makes him tick. 

It’s more than you ever thought you’d know about him when you agreed to keep your sex life with him casual and at a distance. He is anything but at a distance. 

Seungcheol must speed, because it feels like hardly any time has passed when you hear your apartment door open and shut, the sound of the deadbolt clicking. You lift yourself up to lean on your elbows, watching from your bed as he enters your line of vision, a backpack over one shoulder. 

He’s dressed in a long t-shirt and sweats, cozy and warm and still unbelievably good looking. He grins when he sees you, eyes creasing at the corners as he enters your room and drops his bag by your door. 

Without saying anything, Seungcheol crawls onto your bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he inches up over you. Falling backward onto the mattress, you let him loom over you. Heat radiates from his body, warming you up. Your heart thuds as he ducks down, his hands bracketing your head as he cages you in. He brushes his nose against yours and you feel sparks, trying to regulate your breathing. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” you whisper back, reaching your hands up to rest on his hips. He reacts, pressing his waist into yours a little, making you bear his weight. “Ugh, heavy.” 

“Too bad.” 

Seungcheol’s teeth nip your jaw, making your hips twitch upward. You can feel the smirk against your skin as he presses a wet kiss under your ear, moving his way to your neck. 

“I was promised a shower.”

“Maybe I’m too tired,” You murmur.

He hums, leaning more of his weight into you. It’s comforting, not crushing, and you can feel the way his heart is beating wildly in his chest, in tune with yours. You smell bergamot and cedarwood, making your thoughts dizzy and scattered while he whispers, “I’ll wash your hair.” 

“Hmmm. I’m listening.” 

He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point, tongue laving against your skin. Your fingers twist in his shirt, your muscles tensing as you fight off a shiver. You can hear his soft breath, the way the sheets shift under the two of you, the way your heart hammers.  

“I’ll massage your shoulders…” 

“Hmm.” 

His teeth scrape against your throat and you sigh, arching up into him, eyes closed. “I’ll eat you out.” 

Fuck. You’re putty in his hands. Seungcheol could get you to do anything he asked. You don’t know if he knows - you’re too afraid to show him, to let him in on the secret out of fear of what it would mean to him. If it was too much, too deep.

But like this, it’s hard not to hide it. Especially when his filthy mouth hits a weak point in you, turning you thoughtless as you nod your head in response, nails digging into his hip bones through the fabric of his shirt. He makes a noise in response, leaning up off of you reluctantly but pulling you with him. 

Dropping his hands, you head to the bathroom, feeling uneven. Seungcheol whines and grabs you to pull you back toward him. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly. 

“You haven’t even given me a kiss,” he pouts, looking down at you through long, dark lashes. “I want a kiss.” 

This is the problem with Seungcheol. He says things like this when you’re supposed to be casual, something easy and without feelings and without strings. But this feels like something, it feels like there's a thread connecting you, tugging your mouth to his because of course you indulge him.

You always do. 

Seungcheol’s lips are soft and taste faintly of his cherry chapstick. You smile into the kiss, standing on your tiptoes to press closer to him. He kisses you back eagerly, slotting his lips against yours and humming with delight. When you pull away, he’s smug, grinning happily. 

“Come on,” he urges, now leading the charge as he pulls you by the hand toward your bathroom. 

Instead of turning on the light, Seungcheol uses the glow of the burning candle on the counter to navigate. He drops your hand to open up the cabinets and pulls out two towels as you trail to the shower, opening the glass door to lean in and turn it on. 

Steam starts to fill the room as you close the shower door and turn to him. He sets the towels on the counter, not bothering to shut the door to the bedroom. Instead, he grips the bottom of his shirt and peels it upward and over his head, revealing all toned muscle and tan skin. 

He momentarily distracts you. Seungcheol is a work of art, equal parts rippling muscle and soft skin. You slide your shorts down, distracted by the way he looks in the golden shroud of the candle light, sliding his sweatpants down his legs. 

Sensing your eyes, he lifts his head as he kicks off his sweats, briefs slung low on his hips. “Admiring me?” 

“Shut up.” 

Looking away, you take off your shirt, feeling the heat flush from your cheeks down to your neck. He chuckles, peeling off his briefs before kicking them toward the sink and striding toward the shower. He stops to kiss you on the cheek as he pulls open the door. 

“I don’t mind,” he teases. “I like it.” 

It’s true. Seungcheol has always had the easy confidence of someone who is comfortable in their skin. You admire that about him - and envy him a little. Seungcheol never seems to worry what others think of him, nor does he seem embarrassed or concerned about making the wrong move. Saying the wrong thing. 

Steam hits you full on as you step into the shower. Seungcheol is already standing under the spray of water, his back turned toward you. For a moment you admire him again, watching the way the water sluices down his broad back and narrow waist. 

Your eyes drift to the tattoo at his neck, the branches of the tree stretching toward his shoulders. You’ve traced that tree with the tips of your fingers and tongue over and over again, fascinated about the way the ink flexes when he moves. 

A chill catches you, making you shiver and step toward the heat of the water. He senses your approach, turning his head to the side to look at you over his shoulder. He grins, reaching a hand back toward you to pull you close. You lace your fingers, letting him pull you into him as he turns. 

Hot water hits your skin, immediately soothing. You sigh, leaning into the firmness of him, Seungcheol’s arms wrapping around you. He catches your mouth again, your eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you slowly, tongue lazy as he licks into your mouth. 

Seungcheol’s hands spread across your back, fingers digging in a little as he starts to explore, one hand surging up and the other down. You moan into his mouth as the hand that drifts down grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing a little. His mouth curves into the kiss and you feel his teeth pull at your bottom lip, something he knows you love.

As always, you’re a goner. You don’t stand a chance with him. Not that first night and not now when he kisses you like something more. Not when he slides his hand around to your front, pressed between your bodies to run his fingers up the wet folds of your pussy. 

He groans into the kiss that has turned sloppy, hungry. “Fucking wet.”

“We’re in the shower.” 

He growls and pulls his mouth from you to attach to your neck, biting and sucking harshly. You let out a breathy sound, head tilting back heavily as you feel his tongue lick the water from your skin. “Don’t take away my credit.” 

“The only crime is pride.”

The pads of his fingers press into your clit, making your knees knock together and the breath leave your lungs. He smiles against your neck, humming. “Which classic are you quoting at me today?” 

“Antigone by Sophocles.” 

“What’s that one about?” 

Finding words is nearly impossible. The heat of the shower has you flushed and distracted, the steam making it harder to breathe, thoughts sticky as Seungcheol continues to tease you, fingers dragging down to your clenching entrance to press his fingers in slightly before dragging them back up.

Your nails bite into the back of his neck, clinging to him for life as he holds you up, one arm looped around your back to press you to him while the other makes all your thoughts scattered. 

“Come on,” he urges gently, bringing his face to yours. He brushes his nose against yours, nudging. “Tell me.” 

“She was a tragic character in a play written by Sophocles,” you sigh. “She was the daughter of Oedipus.” 

“The guy who fucked his mom?”

Your laughter bubbles out of you. He laughs too, his hold tightening. “Yeah, Cheol. The guy who fucked his mom.”

“Craaazy family.” 

“Do you really want to talk about Greek tragedy incest right now?”

“Nope,” he says happily. “I do want to eat this pussy though.” 

Seungcheol flips gears so quickly that it’s hard to keep up. He swings you toward the glass wall of the shower, pressing your chest against it. You moan loudly, startled by the cool glass against your hard nipples. The contrast of hot water and the cool glass feels good, your eyes fluttering shut as Seungcheol drops to his knees behind you. He gently presses the inside of your knees, urging you to spread your legs. 

“Just like that,” he encourages, hands ghosting upward to squeeze your ass. He pulls your hips away from the glass and toward him, groaning as he comes face level to your cunt. “Fuck.”

Your breath fogs the glass. It’s cold when you press your palms against it, holding yourself up as Seungcheol dips forward, running the flat of his tongue down your slit. You let out a pathetic sound and he laughs, fingers squeezing your flesh. 

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. You melt, knees shaking and unsteady as Seungcheols tongue leisurely explores your folds, dipping into your entrance before dragging up to circle your clit. 

One of your hands leaves the glass to reach back, sinking into the wet strands of his hair and holding him to you. He grunts in pleasure, the buzz of his mouth adding to the simulation as he fastens his lips to you, sucking gently. 

Seungcheol’s mouth is a weapon. You fall apart under the warmth of his lips, the softness of his tongue. He sucks at your core, greedy and pleased, fingers digging into you as he presses in further. He can never get enough, the wet sounds of his hunger making your toes curl.

“Feels so good,” you pant against the glass. Your nails scrape against his scalp and he moans loudly, muffled by your cunt. “Your fucking mouth.” 

“Mmm. Love you like this.” His tongue flicks expertly across your clit and you feel your thighs clench, legs shaking as your orgasm spools inside of you. “God this shower hurts my fucking knees though.”

“You wanted to eat me out in the shower.”

A hand cracks across your ass cheek, making you arch against the glass. He chuckles, tongue diving back, words slurred as he mutters, “And I’d do it again.”

Seungcheol’s mouth feels divine. You go quiet as he sucks at you, focused on the warmth spreading through you and the way your breath starts to stutter, limbs locking up. 

When you come, you go boneless. Seungcheol holds you up, pressing you against the glass as he licks you through your orgasm. You twitch against him, nails dragging in his hair, your other hand sliding against the glass as you fight to grip anything to ground you.

Breathing raggedly, you sag when he pulls his face from you and stands. He groans and you grin, knowing his knees hurt from the tile of the shower. He doesn’t care, though. He crowds you in, cock pressed against your backside as his arms loop around you. 

“Kiss me.” His voice is soft, needy. 

Turning your face over your shoulder, you let him catch his mouth with yours, all tongue and cum and spit. You don’t care, pushing into him. One of his hands slides down between your legs, making you whimper into his mouth as he slides his fingers through your sticky folds to press two of them into your entrance. 

Seungcheol is a giver. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve slept together or had brief, fast encounters, he always makes it a point to please you. To go out of his way to make you shake against him, like he needs it. 

He keeps your mouth melded to his as his fingers fuck you slowly. You clench around his fingers, moaning his name as he presses them against the soft spot inside of you. You see stars, panting into his mouth as he strings you along, dragging you toward another orgasm. 

It’s slow. Intimate. His mouth is hot and wet, sucking at biting at your bottom lip. His other hand snakes up to your throat, not applying pressure but gripping you, holding you to him. If he didn’t have you so tightly pressed to the glass, you think you’d collapse.

“You won’t fall,” he breathes into your mouth, reading your mind. “I’ve got you.”

“My knees are fucking useless right now.”

“You’re tough. Come on, I know you can give me more.” 

You’ll give him anything he asks. You feel your heart slamming in your chest as he works you up again, feel the ragged breathing until you momentarily stop, everything tense and suspended as you clench around his fingers, shuddering violently as you come. 

“Knew it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

A whine leaves you at the praise, head shaking back and forth a little as the oversensitivity makes you squirm. He works you through it, mouth pressed to your ear, whispering to breathe, baby as he strokes you gently until you’re leaning against him heavily. 

Seungcheol removes his hand but keeps holding you up, letting you catch your breath. He peppers innocent kisses along your shoulder, lips brushing your skin tenderly. When you stand up with more strength, he pats you on the hip, gentle.

“Good?”

“Mhmm.” Craning over your shoulder, you catch his chin with your mouth, kissing softly. You press your ass into him, feeling his straining cock. “Come on.” 

“Yeah?”

“All good.”

“Thank fuck. Thought I lost you.”

“I’ve had worse,” you grin, a little tired.

He kisses you, patting you approvingly before he grinds the tip of his cock between your legs. He groans deep in his chest, grip on you tightening for a moment. You reach behind you, gripping the base of his cock firmly, stroking gently before lining him up with your entrance. 

Seungcheol pushes in, both of you whining in harmony at the feeling. It feels good, your pussy throbbing around him as he presses in slowly, letting you feel the stretch. He clings to you, trying to keep it together as you flutter around him. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, more to himself than you. “Shit.” 

Gently, Seungcheol starts to fuck you against the glass, strokes deep and slow. It’s mind-numbingly good, your cheek cool and pressed against the shower wall, Seungcheol’s face buried in your neck, breath puffing against your skin. 

He holds you reverently, both hands on your hips to keep you where he wants you. You reach one hand behind your head, holding the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin. He hums happily, always pleased when you bite and scratch him.

That had been a surprise. You always thought he wouldn’t want you to mark him, that he wouldn’t want evidence of your time spent together. Seungcheol is the opposite though, urging you to rake your nails across soft skin, to bite at him and bruise him. 

Your feet slide apart a little as he strengthens his thrusts. You squeal, hand smacking the glass to hold yourself up. He lets out a loud laugh, pausing to let you fix your stance. He taps your thigh in question and you nod, lifting your leg a little to let him slide a hand under your thigh to press it against the shower wall for better grip.

When he rolls his hips into you this time, it’s deeper, making you tremble against the glass. A groan drips from Seungcheol’s mouth as he sets his pace, pinning you between him and the glass with nothing to do but to take what he gives you. 

“Can you do another?” he asks, breath shaky. His fingers squeeze your thigh for emphasis, the snap of his hips getting stronger. You nod, unable to answer verbally. He huffs, half laughter, half something else. “Yeah you can.” 

And you can. Seungcheol can pull pleasure out of you like thread from a loom, his skilled hands guiding you where he wants you to go. It’s easy for him, the way he knows your body so acute and familiar that the thought alone makes you unravel a little, your whines muted by the glass. 

He makes you come like that, stuck between his warmth and the cold, the two contrasts keeping you suspended as you seize up around him. He grunts at the feeling, hips sloppy, losing their rhythm until he clenches up, growling your name into your neck as he tips over the edge after you. 

For a few moments, you remain melded together, panting in time. Seungcheol makes no rush of peeling himself away from you. Instead, he’s content to mouth at your shoulder and neck, running his nose along your throat. You squirm and laugh, ticklish. 

Grinning, he does it again, nuzzling into you and making you laugh, sound echoing in the shower. “Seungcheol!”

“It’s cute.” 

“Come on,” you urge. “You said you’d wash my hair.” 

He steals a kiss. “Alright, alright. Pass me the shampoo.” 

-

DAY FIFTY SEVEN

“Who is that?” Seungcheol asks, jerking his head toward the bar. You turn and follow his gaze to see Seokmin standing at the bar, ordering drinks. “Never seen him before.”

“Jealous?” You tease, leaning forward and batting your eyelashes at him. Seokmin is just a coworker, but it doesn’t mean you can’t poke Seungcheol a little. Except Seungcheol doesn’t laugh, leveling you with a stare, lips turning downward. “Wait, you actually are.”

“Don’t push it. It was just a question.”

“We work together,” you clarify, immediately turning off the charm when you recognize he’s not amused. “Actually I think he sort of has a thing for Vin, which is why he’s here.” 

Seungcheol hums, sipping his beer and looking away from you. Licking your lips, you reach out a hand and touch his gently, bringing his dark eyes back to you. He looks serious - more serious than you’ve ever seen him, face blank, eyes unreadable. 

“I mean it.” You squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him. “We’re just friends.” 

“Alright.” 

“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?” 

You shrug, struggling to articulate. He still has that expression you can’t read, something stark and closed off. “Just seems like it.” 

He shakes his head again, but you don’t think he’s telling the truth, watching the way his eyes shift to watch Seokmin approach. “Just tired, I think I might head out.” 

Panic grips you and you say the first thing you can think of, throwing caution to the wind. “Want to come over?” 

That gives him pause. He studies you. You feel a tightness in your throat under his scrutiny. His mouth twitches and he nods. “Alright,” he says softly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” You squeeze his hand again. “Really.”

-

DAY SEVENTY EIGHT

“Want to do me a huge favor?” 

You look up from your spot on your couch. Seungcheol is in your kitchen, using his hip to close the door to the fridge. He lifts the lid on the package of grapes, plastic cracking loudly as he does. Leaning against the counter, he pops one into his mouth, crunching happily. 

“Besides giving you my grapes?” you ask, deadpan. He grins around them shrugging happily as he eats another. You roll your eyes, turning back to the laptop carefully balanced on your knee. “What’s the favor?” 

“We have this giant New Years Eve party at work in two weeks and I need a date.”

That gives you pause. You stare at the computer screen but you can’t make out anything on the screen. You don’t dare to turn and look at Seungcheol, fearful that the feelings his question brings out will be right on the surface of your expression.

Date. It’s a scary word. You and Seungcheol sort of go on dates all the time, but they’re not really dates. At least, not from your perspective. If you were to ask Jeonghan, he would launch into another lecture that you should just put a goddamn title on this thing. Vin happily agrees, both of them hammering you on calling the thing between you and Seuncheol what it is.

But it’s friends with benefits. Friends go out to eat meals together and go shopping together - they hangout. The benefits are the sex. It’s the pressing you against your mattress as he maps your body with his mouth, it’s the way you sink to your knees for him after he’s had a bad day at work, taking him into the heat of your mouth to make him forget. 

So yes, you’ve gone places together alone and as a friend date. But somehow this feels different, and you don’t think it’s supposed to. 

Carefully, you ask, “Your date, huh?”

“Mhmm. Free drinks and apps, and it’s at the top of that fancy new hotel. We can stay the night so we don’t have to pay for an expensive as fuck Uber” 

Not for the first time, you find yourself unsure where the line is with Seungcheol. You’ve agreed multiple times that this is just casual, a shared benefit between friends. And yet every time you feel confident in what you are, the line blurs. 

You’re as guilty as he is, you know. On more than one occasion you’re the one who has crossed the line, messing up the clear boundary the two of you have had in place for weeks. Somehow, you both manage to be utterly terrible at casual, but you’re too afraid to say something about it. Too afraid to ruin it. 

“I suppose I can be convinced.” 

“Oh? What can I do to convince you?” 

You look up as his tone turns to velvet, that voice he uses when he’s coaxing you into his lap, or when he’s- 

“It’s really hard to be sexy when there’s grape juice running down your chin, Cheol.” 

He pouts, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the lower half of his face as you laugh. He’s cute, pink lips downturned and eyes round as he sulks. “Don’t make fun of me. Just say yes to being my date.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go.” 

His grin is burnished gold, the sun breaking for first light over the horizon. “Thank you.” 

“Mhmm.” He crunches into another grape and you scowl. “Stop eating all my fucking grapes!” 

-

DAY NINETY TWO

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol mutters when you step out of the hotel bedroom. He feels his heart start to pound in his chest from where he stands in the kitchenette, fingers squeezing the glass of whiskey he poured himself earlier. “You look unreal.”

And you do. You always do. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when Jeonghan and Joshua introduced the two of you that first night at that shitty bar you like to go to on Fridays. The real kicker had been your personality, though. Warm, kind, quick wit. A bit of a history nerd, which is his favorite thing. 

Honestly, he loves a lot of things about you. He knows that he has to do something about that. Knows that this stopped being casual a long time ago. Seungcheol has no problem with casual hookups and keeping people in a rotation, but when it comes to you… he just wants you. 

It’s like he has no idea how to keep his distance, how to keep his feelings out of it. He doesn’t mind, but he needs to figure out how to tell you. How to take that next step and move you from friends to more - if that’s what you want, anyway. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you say back neutrally. He can see the way your eyes linger on him though, your gaze betraying the calmness of your voice, as always.

You don’t get it, though. Seungcheol cannot keep his eyes off you, dragging them from top to bottom. The black dress is snug on your frame, his eyes tracing the swells of your breasts, the dip of your hips, the curve of your ass and thighs. 

Dragging his eyes back up, he meets your gaze. That is one of his favorite things. Your eyes, full of light and depth and thoughts that he always wants to fall into. There is so much simmering under the surface that you don’t say and he’s never asked.

He wants to. 

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Seungcheol leaves the glass on the counter and walks over to you. You shift from foot to foot, eyes darting up to examine the ceiling. He smirks, feeling the nerves radiating from you as he approaches. 

When he reaches out, you don’t step away from him. You let him skim his hands up your sides, going until he’s running them over your shoulders and on either side of your neck so he can cradle your face. He turns your gaze back to him and you stare up at him through your lashes. 

He was a goner on day one. How ridiculous to think he’s not just made this real, told you how he doesn’t want a single thing to be casual and superficial between you. 

Instead of stealing a searing kiss and pushing you back into the bedroom like he wants to, Seungcheol presses a short kiss to the corner of your mouth. He’s too afraid that if he starts something that you won’t make it downstairs. 

Now isn’t the time for that, though. There’s a party upstairs and free drinks and he wants to spend time with his friends. Spend time with you.

The Seungcheol that existed before you is a stranger to him. He barely remembers what it was like to have people he wasn’t genuinely interested in, what it was like to show up alone at parties and take someone home. Hardly recalls pushing people away when they wanted too much. 

All it took was meeting you.

“Come on,” he urges gently, leading you from the room and to the elevator. 

Seungcheol slides his phone from his pocket in the elevator. You press close against him, your arm brushing against his as it fills up with people. He notes where Wonwoo tells him to meet and puts his phone back in his pocket, leaning into you a little.

You let him, making his mouth twitch upward. You always let him do what he wants, and when you don’t, an easy pout gets his way. He’s wrapped around your finger, too. He doesn’t know if you realize it, but he would give you anything you wanted without a moment's hesitation. 

When the elevator doors open, Seungcheol takes your hand. You let him pull you into the party teeming with people, the sound of music swelling over the dull roar of the crowd. You stick closer to him, fingers squeezing him tightly as the pair of you walk toward the check-in table. 

“This is beautiful,” you murmur to him. 

His first instinct is to look at you because you are beautiful. You’re not looking at him, your neck craned to sweep over the party. He smiles at you, watching the glow of your side profile, eyes wide with wonder.

Dragging his eyes from your face, he glances around the party. It is gorgeous, with views of the entire city glittering beneath the building like a bed of stars, shimmering decorations reflecting the golden lights, a giant clock to show the time, and massive flower arrangements. 

“It’s nice,” he agrees, shuffling to the table where he gives his name. “Choi Seungcheol.”

“Perfect, thanks.” The person working the table peels two wristbands and gestures for you both to hold out your wrists. You let go of his hand to do so, letting the attendant wrap your arm in a blue band. “Have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Choi.” 

Both of you blink in surprise. You open and close your mouth as if you’re unsure how to correct them and Seungcheol laughs, shrugging as he takes your hand and leads you out of the line and into the party proper this time.

“This way, wifey.” 

You roll your eyes but grin anyway, looping your arm through his offered one and tugging him close. He’s satisfied, leading you through the tight crowd of people toward the south bar that Wonwoo had said their friends were waiting at.

Joshua spots you and waves you both over, making room at the bar for you to join. Jeonghan’s eyes flick to where your arm is looped through Seungcheol to Seungcheol himself, raising a brow. Seungcheol glares at him, urging him to shut up and Jeonghan grins, turning to order drinks at the bar. 

Wonwoo claps Seungcheol on the back in greeting before kissing you on both cheeks and letting you sit on the only barstool available. Seungcheol moves with you pressed to your back as he leans an elbow on the bar, keeping you close. You lean into him, earning a shy smile that he tries to hide behind the rim of the champagne glass that Jeonghan hands him.

He likes this. He likes being with his friends. He likes the way you laugh and lean back further into him when you do. He likes that his friends don’t bother the two of you about being attached at the hip. And he likes the way your face lights up every time he jokingly calls you wifey. 

Seungcheol wants this. 

He doesn’t recall the last time he wanted a relationship the way he wants with you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everything before you is gone and forgotten, and what matters now are the things that are post-meeting-you. 

Plied with lots of champagne and your laughter, Seungcheol lets you drag him onto the dance floor, wrapping your arms around him as he spins you. He doesn’t know what has him more drunk, the alcohol or you. He thinks it might be you. 

The DJ announces that it’s one minute until midnight, making Seungcheol spin and look up at the clock. The partygoers cheer, clustering together to press toward the clock to count down. Seungcheol wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close in the tight crowd. 

His heart flutters as he watches the numbers countdown, realizing he gets to kiss you at midnight. He’s kissed you over a hundred times by now, but the prospect makes him giddy. His heart races as the numbers drop and he looks at you from the corner of your eye.

You’re watching the clock, uncontrolled happiness on your face as you yell with the rest of the crowd, counting each number as it passes by. 

When the clock strikes midnight, you peer up at him, suddenly unsure. He can’t believe you don’t see it, that you’d doubt for one second that he wants you to be his first kiss of the year. His heart seizes, dipping down with a smile to press his lips to yours.

Your mouth is warm and champagne-sweet, making him groan in the back of his throat. Your fingers cling to his hip, holding him by the waist as he slips a hand up to the back of your neck to hold you in place, deepening the kiss. 

When you pull your mouth away, he makes up his mind. Fuck everything he said about keeping it casual - he doesn’t want to go another minute without you knowing what he wants. 

-

DAY NINETY THREE

“Be my girlfriend.”

The words that come from Seungcheol’s lips catch you off guard. A giggle bursts to your lips and you lean back, trying to examine him from a little farther away. You feel the glitter of champagne in your veins and the same buzz that comes with being near Seungcheol, wondering if maybe he’s had too much to drink.

“What?” you ask, examining his face. He’s flushed, lips pink and smiling, but his eyes are dark and serious.

“Be my girlfriend,” he says again, this time quieter. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath fans your face, warm and sweetened by champagne. “I know we agreed to be casual so if you don’t want more, that’s fine. But there is nothing casual about the way I feel about you.”

Heart thundering, you laugh and cling to him a little tighter. He nudges you with his head, as though asking what’s so funny. You don’t know how to put into words that you’ve wanted to be not casual for a long time, that you are dizzy with the prospect of being something more, that he’s just made the first minute of your year perfect.

Instead of trying to string together the words to tell him, you kiss him. His mouth turns upward, letting you press your palms to the sides of his face, holding him to your lips. There’s no one else but just the two of you, entirely in your own bubble on the rooftop. 

Relief mixed with euphoria floods your system. It’s a weight lifted off your shoulders, realizing that you’re not crazy, that nothing you feel about Seungcheol is casual and that’s okay. That he feels it too. 

Your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He groans, separating your mouths to peer down at you, his lashes fanning when he blinks, dazed. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “This is a work party. I’ll fold right here.” 

“So take me somewhere that isn’t here and fold.”

His gummy smile is blinding, your heart soaring. “Alright, wifey.” 

“Gonna need a ring pop at a minimum if you’re gonna keep saying that shit.”

He links your fingers together, stepping away from you. He tugs you after him and you follow. “Deal. What flavor?”

“Strawberry. I kind of want to suck something else right now, though.” 

Seungcheol groans and you laugh, loving the way he visibly struggles as your words land. He walks faster, a new pep in his step as you make your way toward the elevator. He shouts Wonwoo’s name as he goes, waving his hand to tell him that you’re leaving. 

Wonwoo’s grin is all-knowing as he throws two thumbs up, cheering happily. You tingle with a little bit of embarrassment, scurrying toward the closing elevator door to catch it. It opens again and you both slip inside, alone and buzzing from the party and your newfound status. 

The door closes and Seungcheol pushes in close. You press against the wall, looking up at his sharp grin, his nose nudging yours. His lips are almost on yours, the heat of them against your mouth making you dizzy and the heavy weight of his body against yours making your thoughts sticky. 

“Gonna suck something else, huh?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Wanna do it right here in the elevator?” 

“Huh?” 

He bursts into laughter at your wide gaze, tapping the underside of your chin with his knuckle in jest. “I’m kidding. Unless…”

You shove him away and he starts laughing again, bending over with the force of it. You can’t be annoyed by his teasing, loving the way his eyes crease at the corner and how he laughs with the full force of his body. 

“You’re so annoying.” 

“You should have seen your face, though.” 

“I mean I’ll do it right now, if you want.”

His smile drops and he opens his mouth a little, shocked. “Wait, really?”

“No, but you should have seen your face.”

The elevator arriving at the appropriate floor saves him from answering. He scowls at you and you giggle, grabbing him and pushing him into the hall and toward your room. He turns on his heel, falling into step with you and fishing the room key out of his pocket. 

It’s cold in the room when you enter. Seungcheol had booked a one bedroom suite with a small living room and kitchenette. It was more than what you needed for the night, but it feels nice, like your own private getaway. 

Taking you by the hand, he walks backward toward the bedroom, pulling you along. His smile is beautiful and you wear a matching one. A thrill shoots through you when you realize that Seungcheol is yours. Really yours. 

Sitting on the bed, he pulls you into his lap. Your knees sink in the mattress on either side of his hips, ass resting on his thighs. Leaning over him, you link your hands behind the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the silky hair there. 

Seungcheol tilts his face up toward you, eyes fluttering as you play with his hair. His arms loop around your waist, squeezing you. 

“Hi,” he breathes. 

“Hi.”

Leaning down, you slot your mouth against his. He tastes like champagne, mouth warm. Kissing him takes your breath away, thoughts guttering out as he licks into your mouth hungrily. You lose yourself in the feeling of him, feeling like you’re on fire. 

Seungcheol falls backward on the bed. His lips are swollen and pink, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares up at you. He reaches for you but you give him a coy smile and slip from his lap, crouching to the floor and running your hands along his thighs, feeling them flex beneath your touch. 

You love Seungcheol’s thighs. Your nails drag across the fabric and he lets out a breathy sound. His muscles twitch as you reach to brush your fingers over his zipper, making sure to press into his cock. His hips jerk upward at the barest hint of stimulation and you grin.

“It’s no elevator,” you tease. “But will this do?” 

“Fucking anywhere will do.” 

Seungcheol has always been sensitive. He’s easy to rile, cock already firm by the time you’re undoing his belt and he’s helping you pull his dress pants down his thighs. You eye the dark patch in his briefs, proud that with just a little bit of kissing and some light touching he’s already leaking at the tip.

Sitting high on your knees, you lean forward, tongue pressing wetly to the tip of his cock through the fabric. A hand shoots to the back of your head, his fingers gripping you firmly as you laugh, tongue still pressed to him and soaking through his briefs.

“Don’t you dare tease me tonight,” he warns, voice shaky. “That is not wifey behavior.” 

You remove your tongue, pouting and moving to press a kiss to his thigh. “You never let me tease you.” 

“I’m not patient.” Your teeth scrape the softness of his flesh and his legs twitch, knees knocking your shoulder. “Baby, I am so serious.”

Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile, you give in. You know with certainty he’d let you drag this out if you really wanted to. Seungcheol is impatient and greedy and demanding, but he also lets you do what you want when it comes down to it. 

Instead of testing his grace, you peel his briefs down, freeing his cock. Your mouth waters at his thick length, your hand automatically reaching up to grab him. You swipe your thumb through the precum gathered, using it to slide down the full length of his shaft.

Seungcheol’s hips buck. You grip him properly, working him slowly as you shuffle closer on your knees. They already hurt, hotel carpet digging into them but you ignore it in favor of watching the way his fingers slowly undo the button of his shirt, needing to shuck the fabric off. 

“You’re pretty,” you note absently. His stomach flexes when he sits up to slide his shirt off of his shoulders. He looks down at you, pupils dilated. “Very, very pretty.” 

“You’re a work of art yourself.”

Instead of laying back down flat, he leans back on his palms, letting his head fall back. Seungcheol shuts his eyes, face tilted up at the ceiling as though in prayer. “Feels good.”

Humming happily, you lean forward and slowly run the flat of your tongue up the base of his shaft. That draws a low moan out of him, his chest rising and falling as he pants. You’re fascinated by his reactions, watching his face and body language carefully as you swirl your tongue around the crown of his cock.

He’s responsive, fingers digging into the sheets in an effort not to grab your head and take control. He’s testing his patience, letting you bring him into the wet heat of your mouth at your pace, sucking lazily. 

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum around him and he shakes his head, shivering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Good you think, setting a proper place as you swallow him down, letting your spit pool to help make the glide easier. It’s messy and wet, just the way Seungcheol likes it, his moans backtracking the slick sounds coming from your mouth.

What you can’t fit in your mouth properly, you cover with your hand, squeezing periodically as you stroke upward, meeting your stretched lips. 

“God,” Seungcheol whispers. “You know how to suck cock.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you grin, feeling the sting in your mouth from the stretch. Your lips are cum and spit-slicked, sticky as you continue to stroke him. 

“Thanks,” you laugh. “I heard I’m wifey material.”

“Fucking, shit, yeah a little bit. Fuckkkk, mouth please.” 

You comply, sucking him back into your mouth. He’s putty underneath you, hips twitching off the bed a little as soft sounds drip from his mouth. You watch, totally hypnotized by the way he moved, the way his hairline gets a little sweaty as he nods, encouraging you. 

Biting his lip, he lifts a hand from the bed to grab at you, pulling you off of him. “Come here,” he growls, opening his. 

Seungcheol pulls you to him, not caring that your mouth is a mess. His tongue delves in, exploring the mixed taste of champagne and precum, hands pulling at your dress to peel it off of you. 

“Let me sit against the headboard,” he pants, breaking the kiss to scoot backward. You peel your underwear off and toss them, following him across the mattress as he settles. He pats his lap and reaches for you. “Come here, baby.” 

You settle into his lap again, mouth melding to his. His hands explore you, gripping your ass, squeezing your waist, running up your front to pinch at your nipples. You moan into his mouth, carding your fingers in his hair and pulling at the stimulation, your head tilting back a little.

He takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your throat, biting sharply and soothing the sting with his tongue. Sinking a little lower, you feel your pussy brush against his cock and you sigh, gently rolling your hips to slide your sticky folds up his shaft. 

Seungcheol groans against you, mouth feverish against your skin. He maps your throat, kissing and biting his way to your chest, where he steals a pert nipple into his mouth to give a harsh suck. You squeal and he grins, plucking at your sensitive bud with his teeth. 

Holding onto him, you let him lavish attention to your tits the way he wants, hands squeezing, tongue flicking. It feels good. Aflame, you continue to roll your hips shallowly in his waist, just giving the barest of stimulation to you both.

A hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your swelling clit, pressing against it. You whine loudly, fighting off a violent shiver. He grins where he has your breast in his mouth, sucking generously as he lazily circles your clit with his fingers. 

“Cheol,” you whisper-whine. “You said no teasing.”

“I said no teasing me.” His fingers slide backward and dip into your entrance teasingly. You clench around nothing, aching for him to do something. “Flustered, huh?” 

“Please give me something.”

He presses his lips against the side of your jaw, grinning. “Fine.” He sinks a single finger into you and you sigh in immediate relief. It isn’t enough but it’s something, your hips rocking to take him in deeper. “Better?”

“I can take more.” 

“Of course you can.” He pushes in another finger, the stretch so good. “You’re my girl. You can take what I give you.”

Dropping your head to his shoulder, you nod. You hide your face in his flushed skin, riding his fingers as he slowly slides them home, working you gently. They press against your sensitive spot and you curse, gripping him a little tighter. 

Impatient and needing more, you grind yourself forward, fucking his hand properly. He laughs, letting you take what you need, cupping you fully so the heel of his palm grinds into your clit. Your movements are frenzied, driven by the desire for him, the feeling curling inside you. 

“Just like that,” he encourages. “Fuck yourself on my fingers just like that.” 

You do, thighs aching and body shaking. The sheets stick to your legs as you work yourself up, sweaty palms sliding against Seungcheol’s shoulders. He whispers in your ear, voice low and scratchy, adding to the building mania inside of you. 

“Shit,” you hiss, feeling the tightness in your stomach start to boil over. 

“Come on, come around my fingers. You got it.” 

His gentle voice pushes you over all the way and you clench around his fingers, coming undone. Your hips stop moving and your legs squeeze around his as you seize up. Seungcheol is having none of it, taking the lead to drive his fingers up into you as you flutter around him.

“Oh,” you gasp as he finer fucks you through the rest of your orgasm, sucking at a tender spot on your neck until you’re trembling and a mess. “Okay, okay, okay.” 

Seungcheol takes it easy on you, pulling his fingers from between your legs with a slick noise. You heave against him, catching your breath while he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks obnoxiously. 

“Mmm.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He smacks your ass and you squeak. “Ride my cock like that?” 

Huffing, you extend to your full height on your knees. He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes fixed on the mess between your legs as you sink down slowly. His tip breaches you, both of you letting out a sound as you keep going, holding your breath as he stretches you open.

Seungcheol taps your waist. “Breathe.” 

You do, inhaling a breath as you nestle in his lap, seated fully, clenching around him. “Thanks.”

“Mhmm.” 

Seungcheol’s hands move up your sides, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. This time, you know the look in his eye is real. His gaze is covetous, looking at you like you’re his because you are. 

You catch his hands with yours, linking your finger and squeezing. He smiles, looking up at you with dark locks of hair in his face. You smile back, starting to roll your hips, using his hands to steady yourself.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. The cool air of the hotel room brushes across your back, making you shiver. The mattress dips under your movement, your thighs flexing to keep your balance steady, Seungcheol’s grip on you helping. 

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol mutters, using your linked hands to pull you toward him. Your hands slip from him, going to the headboard to help lift you instead. His grip finds your waist, aiding in your movement while his mouth finds your breasts. “God these tits.” 

An ache settles in your thighs but you ignore it, chasing an orgasm. You tremble in his hold, breath punching out of you as he mumbles your name, watching you with fucked out eyes and lips parted, like you’re giving him everything he ever wanted.

You kind of feel that way. The way he looks at you isn’t that different from before, but now you’re confident in it, realizing that everything with Seungcheol felt too intimate because it was. Casual was never the right name for it, neither of you having any idea how to really be no strings attached. 

“My fucking legs hurt,” you admit, panting. “Can you take over?” 

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol surges forward, knocking you backward onto the bed. You laugh, bouncing a little as he pulls out and helps maneuver you. “Turn around for me.” 

With shaking arms, you follow his instruction. The sheets cling to you as you roll, making you huff and swat at them. He chuckles, peeling them away from your sweaty skin while you settle on your stomach, arching your ass a little. 

He palms your left cheek, groaning and dragging his blunt nails down the curve to your hip where he grabs you. “Unreal,” he whispers, to either you or himself. 

You gasp when he thrusts pack in, punching the air from your lungs as he sets a sharp pace. You jostle on the bed, grabbing the sheets and knotting your hands in them to keep you in place, a stream of whimpers leaving you. 

A hand slips up your spine, pressing flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the bed. You gasp and nod, Seungcheol taking it as a sign to put more weight into it, angling his hips so he’s fucking down into you. 

It’s hard to breathe, the dizziness taking over as your skin starts to turn to static, orgasm so close that you can feel the buzz between your legs. He keeps going like that, pinning you hard to the bed as his hips crash into yours. 

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as you squeeze around him, letting loose. He curses, picking up his pace, ignoring the wet squelch as he does, palm pressing you harder into the bed as you come. 

You think you might disintegrate, unable to do anything but make broken sounds as he chases his orgasm. Just when you think you might not get another breath, he comes, the pressure on your back lifting a little. You gasp for air, feeling the room tilt as his thrusts slow, becoming gentle. 

Seungcheol’s hands are soothing on your back, fingers dancing up and down your spine, delicate. He’s muttering something to you but you can’t hear him, the pounding of your heart far too loud, pulse rattling in your ears. 

When his hips are still, his hands keep moving. He leans over you, careful not to put his weight on you, mouth kissing across your shoulders. Your cheek is pressed flat against the sheet as you pant, coming down from a fever pitch. 

“You okay if I get up and get you water?” the question is whispered across your cheek, where Seungcheol presses a tender kiss. You nod and he kisses you again before peeling away from you. 

Laying in the bed, you drift, listening to him shuffle around to the kitchen. You’re sleepy but more aware now. When the bed dips again, you crack your eye open, watching as he navigates carefully on his knees, two glasses of water in hand. 

“Can you sit up or do you need help?” You shake your head and muster the strength you have left to sit up. Your muscles spasm as you do, a groan leaving your mouth as the room spins from the change in perspective. “You okay?”

“Thirsty,” you rasp, reaching for the glass he offers. Gulping down the cool water, you’re aware of his eyes on you, watching you drain the glass as he sips his. “Thank you.”

He takes the empty glass and kisses your lips. “Mhmm. Need more?”

“No, I’m good. I just need to sleep for five hundred years, no big deal.” 

“Damn, five hundred goes crazy. Do you think we’ll have flying cars by then?” 

Seungcheol puts both glasses on the nightstand and peels back the covers of the bed. He slips under them, patting the spot next to him. You crawl over, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He laughs at you and you scowl, but manage to clamber in next to him, warm beneath the blankets and tucked into his chest.

“Yes, definitely. And like giant sexy holograms advertising porn, probably.”

“That’s the first thing you think of in the future? Porn?”

“Listen,” you huff, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m still a little champagne buzzed and you just fucked me until I couldn’t breathe for a while. Cut me slack.” 

“Sure thing, wifey.” 

“Ugh. Is that our thing now?” 

“Mhmm. Everything pre-relationship has henceforth been replaced with the relationship-only era. Pretend you have amnesia.” 

A huff of laughter leaves you. “Sure thing.” 

“I mean I feel like I have amnesia.” You give him a questioning look. He’s contemplative, staring with unseeing eyes as he plays with your fingers. “I had an entire life and habits before you, and I swear it’s like sometimes my memory actually starts with that first night at the bar.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re just around a lot and I like to think it’s always been that way. And I’m kind of sorry for taking so long to admit nothing about this was casual for me.” 

You smile. “Wasn’t for me either.” 

“Good.” He snuggles into you, settling in silence for a few moments. “Thanks for letting me win pool that first night.” 

“I did not let you win that game, oh my god.” 

“Just admit it! You wanted to taste my goodies and you let me win.” 

“I’m gonna give you some damn amnesia,” you mutter, but grin as he hugs you tight.

“Sure thing, wifey. Sure thing.” 

TAG LIST:

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[prisjean]

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ "MINE"

possessive! caleb x fem! reader

synopsis₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎˚୨୧: an au where you & caleb are farspace officers. the weekly meeting was finished... but after basically knowing caleb your whole life, you notice his mood has changed after him assuming, you paid all your attention to the lieutenant colonel (2.1k words!)

tw: MDNI +18, NSFW, rough sex, jealous sex, unprotected sex (pls use protection), caleb is possessive, dirty talk, spanking, he has you in a headlock, cumming inside

a/n ✧: caleb is releasing tomorrow and im so excited! i hope everyone who pulls him, brings him home! wanted to release this before he releases so im so sorry if this felt fast! also thank you to @tbaluver for giving me a little help with writing this!

caleb's office was always used for meetings. he would talk about the assignments he would give out and the expectations. it was only the officers of the farspace fleet that attended these meetings. caleb, the colonel, sebastian, the lieutenant colonel, and finally, you as a lieutenant.

the meeting was just about done, but caleb’s office felt heavier than usual, the air thick with something unspoken. you had barely stood up from your seat when you noticed the way he was sitting, his jaw tight, his hand grip on his pen as he started working as soon as sebastian left, eyes sharp and locked onto the report he had, trying to ease himself.

you raised an eyebrow, shifting your weight. “okay, what’s with the look?”

caleb leaned back in his chair, now looking at you. he fidgeted with the pen, clicking it slowly. “you know exactly what, pipsqueak” he said, voice low but toned with something simmering just beneath the surface.

your confusion must have shown because he let out a short, humorless laugh. “don't play dumb,” he muttered, tilting his head slightly. “saw the way you were looking at him.”

your brows furrowed. “sebastian?”

caleb’s eyes darkened, and he stood, stepping around the desk toward you. “yeah, sebastian. you couldn’t take your eyes off him.”

the realization hit, and you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “seriously? caleb, i was just being polite. i wasn't—”

his hand caught your wrist gently but firmly, pulling you closer. “polite?” he echoed, his voice lower and raising his eyebrows. “seemed like more than that.”

you felt your heartbeat quicken as his fingers trailed slowly up your arm, his touch familiar, possessive in a way that made your skin tingle in a good way. “you’re ridiculous,” you chuckled.

caleb hummed, leaning in, his lips barely brushing your ear. “maybe,” he murmured, “but i don’t like sharing your attention.” he finally admits.

heat rolled on your cheeks as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. the space between you disappeared in an instant with his touch being firm and full of determination. less out of anger and more out of a deep, unshakable need. you could feel the weight of his jealousy, not in harsh words or frustration, but in the way his fingers pressed into your skin, like he had to hook you to him, to remind himself that you were his and no one else's. you yearned for this touch as much as he did for yours. seeing him be so jealous over another guy that you don't think of in that way, turned you on.

"sebastian could never make you feel the way i do", he whispers. his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

your lips parted slightly, but before you could respond, caleb’s grip tightened at your waist, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at him. his eyes staring into yours, filled with something feral, something that made your knees weak.

“i don't even have to try,” he continued, his voice laced with an edge of arrogance, his fingers tracing a slow, delicate path down your spine. “you’re already melting for me.” and it was true, you could tell just how much wet you were getting with the way he was talking to you.

you swallowed hard, your heart racing. “caleb, someone could walk in” you whispered, your tone was weak at this point.

a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but his grip didn’t change. “and?” he challenged, his voice dangerously low. “you think i would let anyone else have you?"

caleb’s hand slid to your jaw, his thumb brushing over your skin as he tilted your face up to his. he closed the distance between you two.

the kiss came like a storm, powerful and unrelenting. his lips crashed against yours, swallowing any breath you had left, as if he were claiming you in every way possible. his kiss was deep, fighting with tongues and tasting you like he couldn’t get enough.

you felt every ounce of his need, every pulse of his jealousy, as he kissed you harder, almost desperately. it was so intense, the session had you leaning on his cool wooden desk, at least giving you two a little support. his hand at the back of your neck held you in place, as though he feared you'd pull away. you didn’t, though. you melted into him, kissing him back with equal desire, the heat between you rising by the second.

when he finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless, the air between you charged with an electric tension. his eyes gaze into yours, the heat still there, unmistakable, as his lips hovered just above yours.

before you could say another word, he spun you around, pressing your front against the cool, polished surface of his desk. papers scattered to the floor as he pushed you down, his body pressing firmly against yours.

“you really like teasing me, don’t you pipsqueak?” caleb’s voice was low, almost a growl, as he nibbled on your ear, sending a wave of heat through your body. he moved your hair away from the back of your neck to bite you, causing you to wince in pleasure. he took in your scent before planting hickies from behind on your neck. his hands slid down your sides, firmly gripping your hips.

you could feel him harden against you, his breath ragged as his control slipped even further. his voice dropped, dripping with frustration and desire. “you were teasing me with the way you looked at him.. ", he lowly says. "god i just want you for myself..." he groans, still inhaling your smell.

your breath hitched as his grip tightened, pulling you even closer. “i didn’t—”

“don’t,” he interrupted, his voice rough, “don’t even try to deny it.” His hands moved, trailing over your skin with an intensity that left you breathless. his body pressed hard against you. his touch was rougher as if he couldn’t wait any longer.

you bit your lip, feeling the heat between you both intensify.

“you want to know why sebastian could never?” caleb’s voice was right at your ear again. “because he doesn't know you like i do.”

your hands gripped the edge of the desk, your breathing uneven as his every touch igniting sparks under your skin.

“and i’m going to remind you exactly who you belong too.” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. he finishes his statement with a slap on your ass before groping it, leaving you in such a wet mess. at this point you knew he was teasing you just as you did with him, but you were enjoying this.

he sends another slap on your ass before lifting up your skirt and moving your panties to the side. his chest was still pressed against your back with his muscular clothed arms caging you in, then letting his leather gloved finger slide through your drooling cunt. you squirm under his touch.

"gosh.. you stare at him with those pretty eyes but you're fucking soaked for me", you sink under the whispers he tells you. "caleb... please.." you begged me. "i need you now.." you continue begging, practically pressing your ass against his clothed crotch.

“heh..so needy..” he chuckles, having a firm grip on you. “are you sure you can handle your punishment? because i won't be able to hold back,” he breathes against your ear, giving you a chill down your back. 

“yes.. please colonel caleb”, you murmur. you could already feel himself hardened under you after saying his title. 

“that’s a good girl,” he grins before letting your panties fall to ground. you eagerly wait for him as he starts to unbuckle his belt. he unzips, freeing his heavy cock. the tip was already gleaming with leaky pre-cum, begging to discipline you. he presses his cock against your erected pussy, letting your juices lube him up. he makes your body heat up when he gives your clit a few taps before probing at your entrance. you share a loud gasp as you're both intertwined now.

caleb slowly breathes to get him accustomed to your pussy clenching around him. he wanted to cum right then and there but he knew he wasn't done with you. he's been fantasizing about this many too many times and now he was sure as hell not going to waste it.

"fuck, your pussy..mm..is so tight" he breathes. he continues to pump into you. the grip on the table under your palms tighten, he knew just how to hit your pleasure points.

“mm~you think i didn’t notice the way you looked at him?”, he murmured, his voice low, dripping with restrained frustration. “ngh..it doesn't matter.." he mutters, gripping your waist tightly. "because we...both know who you really belong to, don’t we?” he groans as your pussy swells around him.

you kept moaning in replies, you loved the way he was taking his jealousy out on you but you were too into your pleasure to say anything back to him. caleb notices and wraps his muscular arm around your neck, letting your head tilt up a bit while you gasped in surprise.

"say it,” he commanded softly, his tone a dangerous mix of desire and control. “say you’re mine.” saying as he kept his pace. his eyes burned with hunger.

“mmh..i'm yours, caleb" your voice trembling with need.

a satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. “that’s right,” he murmured, the pace of his thrusts picks up. "and 'm..gonna make sure you only look at me from on," he groans as he continues fucking you, letting slaps of skin echo in the room. at this point, his balls clapped against your clit and his tip hitting your spongy g-spot at every thrust.

"ca-caleb.." you wince, "i'm..'m gonna cum!" you whine.

"mm.. that's it, cum on me, pretty girl" he smirks, his pace never faltering. with those words, you ride your orgasm out. your juices spraying on his cock and rides down your thighs, leaving your legs to tremble. "mmm..cumming on me like a slut hm? ngh..'m gonna fill your pussy up, pretty girl" he moans. after a few more trembling thrusts, he lets out a loud groan before letting his warm seed coat your walls. you both pants as he gently unwraps his arm from you and pulls out of you. your pussy drools of him down your thighs.

the air in the room was now thick, it echoed your synced breathing and smelled of the weight of everything that just happened.

"you okay?" caleb asks, his voice husky, still tinged with the remnants of desire. you can tell now his jealousy was slowly melting away. a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he reached up, tucking a sweaty piece of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin.

"yes, i'm okay" you nodded, your cheeks flush at the heat of the moment. he smiles and without another word, he bends down in front of you, his strong hands gently rolling your panties back onto you. there’s an unmistakable urgency in the way he moves, a reminder that you belong to him in a way no one else can take.

his fingers press against your skin possessively as he slides the fabric back into place, he grins as he sees you still leaking of him and when the fabric is fully adjusted, caleb straightens up, standing in front of you again. he reaches out, his thumb tracing along your lower lip as he steps closer, crowding you with his presence.

"you know, i don’t think they’ll miss the message now," caleb murmurs, his voice low and dark with intent. his hand slides to your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body making you feel every inch of his desire. "i want them to see who you belong to. i want them to know exactly who’s got you."

you shiver at the words, feeling your pulse race. his lips hover near your ear as he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "i’ll make sure you never forget that you’re mine. no one else gets to have you the way i do. understand?"

you nod, feeling a surge of heat coursing through your body at the raw possessiveness in his words. his lips press against your ear in a gentle kiss, but there’s no mistaking the tension that still lingers in his touch.

"you’re mine," he repeats, a promise and a claim all in one. "and everyone’s gonna know it."

[alsofoundinpeas]

Beyond the Window

Summary: With her package plan a success, the only thing standing between Y/N and Spencer now was his job. But as soon as he returned home, nothing would hold them back from finally acting on their feelings—this time, with no windows in the way.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Some might consider this dubcon (talk of Spencer watching reader through her window but reader had wanted him to) so please be aware of that! Fingering (f!receiving), oral (both m and f receiving), unprotected P in V sex (birth control mentioned), overstimulation/multiple orgasms (both m and f receiving), dry humping (if you squint), creampie (fuck I hate typing that), minor corruption kink, heavy praise, Virgin!Spencer, Sub!Spencer (he is pathetic and LOUD in this FYI), Soft Dom!reader, Perv!Spencer and Perv!Reader (they're back at it again LMFAO). Both fluffy and smutty. They match each other’s freak your honor!!

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

A/N: Anddd done! This was, to date, the filthiest thing I've written so I'm nervous but I also loved writing it LMAO. I hope you guys enjoy part two as much as I enjoyed writing it :') I'll be putting out more sub!Spence in the future, but for now I hope you guys like this!! As always, please let me know what you guys think and if you do enjoy it then please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Spencer was certain the universe was playing a cruel, twisted prank on him.

It was the only explanation for being called into work early on a Sunday morning when he was supposed to be off. The night before, he’d gone to bed without replying to Y/N, hoping to come up with the perfect witty, flirty response the next day—when his brain wasn't a pile of mush. As he hurried to pack a go-bag and get dressed, Spencer cursed under his breath for waiting. Now, he’d have to send a hasty, jumbled apology and hope that Y/N would still want him to come over when he got back.

While Spencer drove—a task he loathed but had no choice in, given the lack of time for the metro—Penelope briefed him on the case details. The team was being sent to Wyoming to assist with a rapidly escalating unsub, which explained the need to get there quickly. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as Penelope spoke. Even with the case's urgency, his mind kept returning to Y/N.

“Reid?” Penelope sighed, then tried again. “Hello? Earth to Reid?!”

Spencer snapped back to reality, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I got distracted. What was the last part again?”

Penelope's laughter echoed through the phone. “What’s keeping your mind so busy? Besides all your usual genius stuff, that is."

Spencer groaned, knowing that the blonde wouldn’t stop pressing until she got an answer. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly began to explain.

"There’s this girl who lives across from me, and I’ve had a crush on her for a while… We’d run into each other a few times at the library and the coffee shop near my place, but recently, a package of hers ended up at my door. I took it to her yesterday morning, and we ended up hanging out—" He paused, swallowing hard as his mind drifted to what had happened that night, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. "Anyway, she texted me to come over again, but then I got called in for the case. So, yeah, she’s just been on my mind."

Spencer winced as a loud squeal erupted from the phone, quickly followed by the sound of enthusiastic clapping.

“Spencer! That’s adorable! What’s her name?”

“Nope. Not a chance. I know you’ll look her up and start stalking her!” Spencer protested as he pulled into the parking garage. “Look, I just got here, so I’ll see you when we get back. Please keep this between us for now, alright? I don’t need everyone hounding me about it while we have a case to focus on.”

Penelope groaned dramatically but gave in, sighing in playful annoyance. “Ugh, fine, lover boy. You just ruined all my fun,” she grumbled. “Be safe, my sweet angel, and tell Derek to call me when you guys land!”

Spencer finished the call and hung up, swiftly typing out a message to send to Y/N before he had to go in. His thumbs clumsily pressed the buttons as he hurried, letting out an annoyed sigh as he fumbled with his flip-phone. He’d never been a fan of modern technology, but if getting a new phone meant it would be easier to talk to her, he’d consider it.

Good morning! I hope you slept well. Apologies for the late response. I’d love to come over, but unfortunately, I’ve been called in for a case. Would you still like me to come by once I get back?

Spencer gave a nod to himself, hit send, then gathered his things and stepped out of the car.

Y/N paused when she heard her phone ding, toothbrush still in her mouth. She quickly finished brushing, swishing mouthwash as she walked to her room to grab her phone. Returning to the bathroom, she spat out the mouthwash before finally glancing at the waiting text.

A small giggle fell from her lips as she read Spencer’s message, leaning back against the sink as she responded.

Of course, Spencer. Only if you want to :) xoxo

He texted like an old man (which wasn't surprising, considering his wardrobe). She thought it was charming. She placed her phone on the bathroom counter and stepped toward the shower to start the water, a smile still playing on her lips from his message.

A content sigh fell from her lips once she stepped into the hot stream of water, letting the water relax her tight muscles.

As her soapy hands began to wander her body, her mind wandered back to Spencer and just how deliciously pathetic he’d looked stroking himself to the sight of her. Honestly, Y/N had worried she’d scared the poor guy with her message after he’d watched her the night before, so seeing his text was a relief. Now, she just had to wait for him to return from his case—and then he’d finally be all hers.

The week crawled by, each day stretching on painfully, leaving both of them restless and longing for each other's company.

Each night when Y/N came home, she’d glance out of her curtains, hoping to see that Spencer had returned, only to let out a quiet sigh when she found he hadn’t. She couldn’t remember ever being this excited to see someone before. Something about Spencer had her completely hooked—not just his looks, but the man behind them. After spending time with him, she was eager to uncover more about the sweet, brilliant person who lived across from her.

Another four days went by before the text she’d been waiting for finally came through.

Hey pretty girl, we just landed so I’ll be home in about an hour. Are you up for some company?

Y/N arched a brow as she read the message, re-reading it a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. That didn’t sound like Spencer at all… but she was too eager for him to come over to worry about it now. She’d figure out who actually sent it when he arrived.

With a small grin, Y/N typed her reply, then set her phone down to get ready and tidy up her apartment.

“Morgan! Come on! Are you serious?” Spencer griped, swatting at the man in an attempt to grab his phone back. “What did you say to her?”

Penelope had (accidentally) let it slip to Morgan that Spencer was, in her words, "dating but not dating this super cute girl who lives across from him." Naturally, she’d ignored his requests for privacy, tracked down the tenant list for Y/N’s building, and found her online after figuring out she was the one. So, when Morgan glanced over Spencer's shoulder and saw the carefully composed message he’d written, he snatched the phone and sent something entirely different.

“Relax, kid! I’m just helping you out. You’re going to scare her off if you keep talking to her like a geezer,” Morgan chuckled, tossing him back his phone before standing from his seat and stretching. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head in frustration before unlocking his phone to check the message. He cringed at what Morgan had sent, but then his heart skipped a beat as he read Y/N’s reply.

Come over whenever you’re ready, pretty boy. I can’t wait to see you. :)

Spencer’s face flushed as he brushed off the curious looks from the team, eager to get off the jet and head home to drop his stuff off—then straight to Y/N’s. A mix of nervousness and excitement churned inside him, his hands trembling as he started the drive home. It felt surreal to him, knowing not only that she was excited to see him, but that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

A firm knock at the door pulled Y/N’s attention from the couch, a bright smile spreading across her face as she jumped up to answer it. "Coming!" she called, quickly unlocking the door. When she opened it, Spencer stood there, looking a bit nervous and holding a bag of takeout from her favorite diner.

"Oh, Spencer," she murmured, her gaze softening as she noticed the bag. "You’re so sweet! You didn’t have to get dinner—I was planning to order something when you got here." She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him and taking the bag from his hand so he could slip off his coat.

Spencer waved it off with a sheepish grin as he followed her into the kitchen. "I wanted to," he said. "I noticed you ordered from them a lot and thought it would be a nice surprise." His eyes widened in panic. "Not that I’ve been, like, stalking you or anything! And, um, I'm sorry if I didn’t pick the right thing. I can run back and grab something else—"

“Spencer.”

Y/N sat down the plates she'd gotten out for them and silenced his nervous rambling by gently cupping his cheeks. Spencer froze mid-sentence, his mouth slightly open as he looked down at her. She smiled up at him, softly stroking her thumb along his cheekbone.

“You did perfect, sweetheart,” she reassured him, her gaze flicking to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “It was so thoughtful of you to pick up dinner. I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you ordered. Thank you.”

Spencer swallowed, his heart pounding at the feel of her hands on his face. He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself before he whispered, “Of course.”

Y/N smiled, brushing her hand over his cheek one last time before turning back to plate the food, which looked and smelled delicious. Once she finished, she headed to the fridge, glancing back at Spencer. "Wine, water, or soda?"

"Water, please. Thank you."

Nodding, Y/N poured herself a glass of wine and then filled one with water for him. They walked into the living room, both of them buzzing with anticipation for what was to come later. They sat side by side, enjoying the warmth that came from being pressed together as they began to eat.

"So," Y/N started, laughing softly before continuing. "Who texted me from your phone earlier today? Unless the grandfather ghost inhabiting your body decided to take a rain check."

Spencer groaned in embarrassment, chuckling awkwardly as he glanced at her. "Sorry about that… that was my co-worker, Derek. And best friend too. He accused me of 'talking to you like a geezer' and decided to try and do better himself."

Y/N laughed even harder, putting her fork down to take a sip of her wine before replying. "I knew it wasn’t you!" she said with a triumphant grin, then paused, a new realization dawning on her. "You talk about me to your team?"

Spencer hesitated, finishing his bite slowly before taking a drink and nodding. "Sort of… I told Penelope about you, and then she mentioned it to Derek. I’m sorry—i-is that okay?" His fingers pushed his glasses up, a nervous habit of his.

It was more than okay. A giddy feeling rushed through her at the idea of him talking about her to his co-workers, recalling how he'd mentioned during their first hangout how much he valued them. She nodded, nudging him with her shoulder gently.

“You apologize too much, Spence. It’s totally fine. If anything, I’m flattered,” she admitted with a grin.

It didn’t take long for them to finish eating. Once the plates were cleared and placed in the sink, Y/N turned to Spencer, a small smirk playing on her lips. Spencer swallowed, leaning back against the counter, his eyes locked on her with a mix of curiosity as she began to speak.

"Do you watch every girl you're interested in through their window? Or am I just special?"

Her tone was playful, not angry or accusatory, but Spencer still tensed, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself.

"I swear I didn’t mean to come off as creepy or anything," Spencer stammered. "It’s just… from the moment I met you in the library, you were so captivating. And when I found out you lived across from me, I couldn’t help myself—"

Y/N's gaze softened as she realized just how nervous he actually was, and she took a step forward, shushing him with a finger to his lips.

"Spence, hey. Look at me, sweetheart,” she murmured, her arms loosely wrapping around his neck. She waited until their eyes met, then continued, her fingers gently twisting the hair at the nape of his neck. “I was just teasing. I wanted you to watch. That’s why I left my curtains open.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at her admission, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he recalled every time she’d left her curtains open. All this time, she had wanted him to watch. The realization sent a strange warmth through him, and he carefully placed his hands on her waist.

“So, was the package at my door part of your plan too?” he breathed, his expression a blend of lust and adoration as he looked down at her.

Y/N's answer came in the form of a nod and a smug grin. Spencer chuckled, his nerves easing the longer he held her in his arms.

"I didn’t think you’d ever make a move, so I decided to take matters into my own hands," she said softly, still grinning as she met his gaze, mirroring the admiration in his eyes.

Spencer wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. “Is it wrong to say I’m glad you did?” he murmured, his hands gently caressing her lower back through her shirt. “You’re just… perfect. I was afraid you wouldn’t even give me the time of day if I’d tried to.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open in surprise, her brows furrowing as she tilted her head. “Are you serious?” she asked incredulously, letting her hands slide to rest on his shoulders as she leaned back in his embrace. “Spencer, I adore you. You could’ve asked me out in the library, right then, after just thirty seconds of knowing each other, and I would’ve said yes without a second thought. You really don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She tilted her head up, brushing her nose against his, continuing before he could speak. "Let me show you just how incredible I think you are. Please?"

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, his heart racing at her words. It was exactly what he wanted, more than anything. But he hesitated, his mouth working as he fought to find the right words.

"I'm a virgin!" he not-so-eloquently blurted out instead.

Y/N's head jerked back, blinking hard as she processed his words. Had she heard him right?

"Wait... what did you just say?"

Spencer blushed hard, averting his gaze to the ground as he repeated himself.

"I'm a virgin."

It was Y/N’s turn to suck in a sharp breath, the admission arousing her more than she’d care to admit. She rubbed his shoulders gently before using one of her hands to guide his face back to hers, her gaze earnest as she looked at him.

“Honey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We don’t have to do anything at all—“

Spencer shook his head vigorously at that, a low whine emitting from his throat as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want to do everything with you. I want to more than anything, I swear! I-I just… I don’t want it to be bad for you,” he whispered, unnecessary shame lacing his words.

“Spencer… sweetheart, it would never be bad for me as long as I’m with you,” Y/N whispered, her voice warm and steady. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, babe. Honestly, we could just curl up on the couch, watch a movie, or talk. I love talking with you, about anything.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at her words. No one had ever told him they truly enjoyed his company before, nor had anyone ever shown such genuine affection or concern for his emotions. It was a feeling he hadn’t known he was missing.

“I’m more than sure, Y/N. Please?” he mumbled, his grip on her hips tightening slightly. “I-I want to make you feel good.”

She paused, her eyes closing as she carefully considered her next move. After a long breath, Y/N gave a small nod, then pulled away from him completely.

“Follow me, then.”

Spencer hurried after her, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his eagerness to keep up. Once they reached her bedroom, Y/N shut the door and turned to face him, leaving him standing in the middle of her dimly lit room. He glanced around, almost in disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was really here—standing in her room and not caught in some dream.

“Bet it feels different being in here rather than just looking in,” Y/N teased, stepping closer to him.

“Very. I’m still waiting for the cameraman to jump out and tell me it’s all a prank.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she shook her head with a smirk. “Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not happening. No prank, sweetheart,” she hummed, her eyes catching the way his gaze swept over her, full of unspoken desire.

Y/N smirked as she took another step forward, urging Spencer backward until the backs of his knees hit her mattress. She reached up, pushing down gently on his shoulders until he gingerly sat on the bed, looking up at her with wide eyes as she moved to straddle his lap. Her fingers carded through his hair, tugging gently and eliciting a whimper from him as she cocked her head.

“Quit looking at me like that,” she murmured, scratching her nails gently against his scalp.

A shiver ran down Spencer’s spine, his brows furrowing at her words. He shifted underneath her, resting his shaking hands on her hips. His tongue poked out to wet his lips, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes darkened at the sight.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to ruin you.”

Y/N’s words lingered in the air, their breaths the only sound breaking the stillness. The tension between them was electric, each waiting for the other to break first. Finally, Spencer did, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke.

“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

The slight tremble in his voice and the doe-eyed look he sported were all it took for Y/N’s resolve to crumble completely.

With a low groan, her lips crashed onto his. Their mouths melded together, the small whine bubbling in Spencer’s throat encouraging her to kiss him even harder. His hands reached up to cradle her face, matching her intensity as their lips moved together.

It wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

Spencer didn’t kiss her like the shy, hesitant man from earlier. Instead, his kiss was fiery, almost desperate, as though he wanted to drown in her and never resurface. And she found herself wanting exactly the same.

Y/N’s hands wandered from his hair down his chest, letting her fingertips dip beneath the hem of his shirt as their tongues brushed together. Her nails gently dragged along the soft skin there, and she felt his erection twitch from where it was firmly pressed to her core. Spencer whimpered, breaking their kiss with a soft gasp as he looked up at her pleadingly.

“Please,” he panted, his hands reaching for her hips to pull her down into him. Y/N rolled her hips against his, moaning lowly at the friction. She repeated the action once before stopping her movements, climbing off of him despite his protests with one simple command.

"Take off your clothes, Spence."

He complied immediately, scrambling to stand and strip out of his clothes. His fingers fumbled as he worked at his tie, his focus stuck on her as she undressed before him. A frustrated groan left his lips as he finally yanked the tie off, his hands moving too slowly for his own liking.

Y/N arched a brow, chuckling at his irritated noise as she stepped out of her pants. She reached up to stop his hands, beginning to unbutton his shirt herself. "What's got you so worked up, hm? It's not like it's anything you haven't seen before," she purred, sliding her hands under the fabric and slipping it off of him.

The shirt hit the ground with a muted thump, and her eyes roamed over his newly exposed skin hungrily. Spencer whined at her teasing, letting his hands roam up and down her sides as she worked on getting his pants off.

"I could see you like this an infinite amount of times, and it would still take my breath away every time," he murmured, his hands gently squeezing her hips.

A faint pink spread across her cheeks at his words, and she lifted her face to place a soft kiss on his lips, a silent thank you. No one had ever made her feel as treasured as Spencer did. He gazed at her with a devotion that felt almost reverent, as though she were someone to be worshipped—and he longed to be the one to worship her.

Which was highly ironic, considering she was the one sinking to her knees the second his pants pooled around his ankles.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Spencer's voice raised pitch as she steadied herself with her hands on his thighs, looking down at her with wide eyes, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they threatened to slip down from the angle.

"What does it look like I'm doing, sweetheart?" Y/N murmured, leaning forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to his hip. "I want your pretty cock down my throat. You okay with that?"

The sound Spencer made was almost pained, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to figure out what to do with his hands. His mouth parted, a stutter escaping him before he finally gave in, nodding instead. His cock twitched in his boxers, aching to feel her touch.

"Words, baby. Use your words."

Y/N's lips skimmed across his navel, peppering kisses along the smattering of hair there as she waited for his response.

"God—yes! I'm okay with that," Spencer whined, his hips bucking forward instinctively from her touch. "Please... please touch me—"

Y/N couldn't deny such sweet begging. It would be downright cruel if she did.

Her fingers found the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly. She kept her eyes locked on his, carefully assessing his every reaction to ensure there was no trace of doubt before proceeding. When she saw none, she swiftly yanked them down the rest of the way, letting them pool around his ankles with his pants.

Spencer gasped as the chill of her bedroom air met his warm skin, goosebumps spreading across his arms as he fought the urge to shy away from her gaze. He never thought that highly of himself in the physical aspect— all lean muscles, lanky limbs, and pale skin spattered with freckles and a few random scars. But his insecurities faded the moment he heard her breath catch, her eyes filled with admiration as they lingered on him.

"You're so beautiful, Spencer," Y/N breathed, bringing a hand up to grip him gently. "So, so beautiful."

Her mouth was on him before he could respond.

A keening sound filled the room as he watched in pure awe as she dragged her tongue up and down the length of him slowly before her lips wrapped around the flushed head of his cock, a spark of pleasure shooting up his spine as his hands flexed by his side. She sucked gently, swirling her tongue around the tip before pulling off of him to speak.

"Don't be afraid to hold onto me, sweetheart. Go ahead."

Spencer's hands immediately came up to cradle the back of her head, finding purchase as she returned to what she was doing. The sight of her on her knees and taking the length of him into her mouth had his knees almost buckling. It was something he'd dreamed about for nights on end, but now that it was actually happening, he didn't know what to do with himself.

"F-fuck—" He whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut to prevent himself from cumming right then and there.

All he'd ever experienced before was his own hand (and occasionally some desperate humping against his mattress), so the feeling of her mouth around him was otherworldly. Just when he thought it was safe to open his eyes again, Y/N smirked around her mouthful and pushed her head down to take him in completely.

"Oh—!" Spencer cried out as he hit the back of her throat, jolting and stumbling backward and falling out of her mouth with a slick 'pop'. His chest heaved as he reached down to grip himself tightly, staving off his orgasm. He didn't want to cum yet. Not this quickly.

"I-I'm sorry, it just felt too... too good—"

Y/N gently stroked his trembling thighs, pressing a kiss beneath his belly button before rising to her feet. She shushed his stammered apologies with a kiss on his forehead, caressing his face as he caught his breath. His face was flushed, both from embarrassment and arousal, and the sight was more endearing than it should have been.

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Absolutely nothing," she whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning to crawl onto her bed. “Get up here, baby,” she crooned as she laid back against her pillows, patting the spot beside her.

Spencer almost tripped over his pants in his haste to follow after her, kicking the fabric away before he kneeled onto the mattress, smiling meekly at Y/N as she watched in amusement. "I w-want—" Spencer paused as he watched her lean forward so she could unclasp her bra, completely enraptured. "I want to taste you. Please?"

Desire coursed through her at his words, searing through her veins as she met his gaze. She loved how pretty the word please sounded falling from his kiss-swollen lips. She slipped free from her bra, tossing it to the ground before answering his pleading.

"Go ahead, baby. Take whatever you want—I want you to have it all."

Spencer swallowed hard at that, a small grin playing on his lips as he moved forward to settle between her spread legs. He kneeled between them, taking off his glasses and setting them on her nightstand before lowering himself to hover over her. He bumped his nose against hers, his grin widening as he moved to tentatively kiss along the side of her neck.

Y/N moaned at the feeling, tangling her fingers into his tousled strands. He continued, trailing his kisses down the slope of her shoulder before pausing to suck a small mark into her skin, relishing in the soft noises falling from her lips. Once he was satisfied with his mark, he brought his lips down to mouth along her breast, laving his tongue over the taut bud of her nipple.

"Spence—" she whimpered as he closed his lips around the hardened peak, suckling with a low groan that rumbled against her skin. She tugged at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. "Feels so good, sweetheart."

Spencer hummed, pulling off her breast after a moment and switching to the other to give it the same treatment. Y/N whined, arching into his touch as he began to move down her body. What he may have lacked in physical experience, he more than compensated for with knowledge.

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't a prude. He'd read plenty of erotic novels, as well as countless books all centered around the female anatomy and how to inflict the most pleasure so that he could at least pretend to feel prepared for his first time. It seemed to be paying off, though, if the noises she made were any indication of how he was doing.

Spencer's hands came up to rest on her hips as he settled on his stomach between her thighs, hissing softly when his erection pressed into the mattress. His eyes met hers, and the clouded look in her eyes was all the encouragement he needed.

"God, you're soaked," he whispered in astonishment as his finger traced the damp spot in the front of her panties, causing a breathy chuckle to slip from her lips.

"How could I not be?"

Spencer blushed, leaning down to kiss her inner thigh before pulling the fabric down her legs. His breath hitched at the sight of her glistening pussy, fully on display for him without the barrier of their windows in his way. Any coherent thought that was swirling around in his head vanished, replaced with an urgent need to taste her. He moved without thinking as he latched his mouth onto her eagerly, groaning against her slick skin as he began to lap at her hungrily.

"Fuck! Spencer—" Y/N cried out, her grip on his hair tightening at the unexpected pleasure. Her head tipped back against her pillows as her hips writhed under his ministrations, rolling against his mouth as he devoured her.

There was little to no technique— just pure, unbridled enthusiasm. But it felt so good that she didn't care. He alternated between sucking at her clit and thrusting his tongue into her, needy moans slipping from his lips the entire time he did.

"Fingers, baby—" she gasped, biting her lower lip harshly to stifle a loud moan. "Use your fingers, too."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He pulled away from her, licking the taste of her from his lips as he brought two fingers up to her entrance. He focused his gaze on her face as he pushed them inside of her, his mouth hanging open and soft breaths panting against her skin as he began to thrust them.

"Like this?"

His tone wasn't cocky or arrogant. It was curious, like he was genuinely invested in finding out what felt the best for her. She nodded, a choked moan slipping from her lips as he grazed against that rough patch of nerves inside of her that had her hips thrashing.

Spencer watched in fascination for a moment before bringing his head back down, his eyes fluttering shut as he began to trace her clit with his tongue. His hips rocked instinctively against the bed, grinding against it in a desperate attempt to find some relief for his aching cock as he brought her closer and closer to her climax.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, her hands falling from his hair to grip the sheets as she clenched around his fingers. "I-I'm cumming—"

Spencer groaned against her, doubling his efforts so he could watch her fall apart on his fingers. With a soft cry, Y/N came hard, her eyes squeezing shut as she trembled underneath him. He continued his movements, pumping his fingers into her gently until she was whining and wriggling away from his touch.

Spencer watched her in awe, kneading her thighs and hips to help her come down from her high.

"C'mere," she panted after a few minutes, finally opening her eyes to look up at him as he moved to hover above her.

A proud grin made its way to Spencer's face as he obeyed, resting on his forearms as he looked down at her. The hazy look in her eyes made his heart race, knowing that he was the cause of it doing more for his ego than he cared to admit. She returned his grin, leaning up to kiss him softly and tasting herself on his tongue.

"You did so good, sweetheart. Such a good boy for me," she mumbled against his lips.

She broke the kiss to press on his shoulders, rolling them over so she straddled him once more. A lazy smirk adorned her lips as he looked up at her, his pupils so dilated that the soft brown of his eyes was indiscernible. She began to rock her hips against his aching cock, a sigh slipping from her lips as her folds dragged over him.

Spencer moaned lowly at the friction, bringing his hands up to palm at her ass as she continued her movements. His fingers dug into her flesh as she spoke, but he didn't hear a single word she said as he kept his gaze locked on where her pussy was gliding along his length.

"Hey," Y/N cooed, patting his cheek gently to guide his eyes back to hers. "Eyes on me, sweetheart."

Spencer whined, his hips bucking underneath hers in an attempt to bring back the delicious friction that had been taken away when she lifted her hips. "I-I'm sorry. I wasn't listening," Spencer mumbled sheepishly, his face flushed as he held her gaze.

Y/N chuckled, tutting in mock disappointment as she gripped his chin. "I know you weren't," she muttered with an arched brow before continuing. "I was asking if you wanted to use a condom or not. I'm clean and—"

"No condom!"

Y/N jumped, startled. The urgency in his voice sent a wave of warmth through her as she eyed him in amusement, enjoying the bashful look that immediately appeared on his face after his exclamation. Spencer cleared his throat, attempting to regain some of his dignity.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to borderline shout that," Spencer said softly, his voice cracking slightly. "I just— I want to feel you, please. Without a condom in the way, preferably."

The grin that spread across her face could only be described as salacious as she nodded, cradling his face before leaning in for a tender kiss.

"No condom it is, then."

Y/N shifted up onto her knees, reaching between them to align him with her entrance before pausing when he spoke up.

"I— um... C-can I be on top of you instead?" he whispered, looking up at her with nervous eyes.

Her gaze softened at the sight, and she nodded immediately. "Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want, remember?" She murmured with a fond smile, rolling off of him to lay back against the pillows.

Spencer thanked her quietly, moving to hover above her once more. His body trembled as he propped up on one arm, reaching down to line himself up with her once more. She cradled his face, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone reassuringly. He took a deep breath to steady himself before pushing forward, sinking into her.

The feeling of her tight walls wrapping around him had him keening while she moaned just as loudly in return, dropping his head into the crook of her neck as he sucked in desperate, shaky breaths. He'd never experienced pleasure so overwhelming before. He was honestly convinced he'd died right there in her arms, pressing sloppy kisses to her skin just to prove to himself that he was, in fact, still alive.

"God— feels so good," he began to babble, moaning softly as he pulled his hips back slightly before thrusting forward again. "So tight... so wet— fuck!"

Y/N dug her nails into his shoulders, whimpering as he thrusted into her again, this time a little harder. "That's it, Spence," she panted, encouraging him to begin really moving. "You feel so good, baby. So fucking deep."

Spencer's hips jerked at that, his head dropping back into the crook of her neck as he began to drive into her in short, jagged thrusts. Moans slipped freely from his lips, mingling with hers as their bodies moved in tandem.

It didn't take long before the familiar tightening in his stomach came back, but he was too lost in the pleasure to stop. The feeling of Y/N around him was addictive. He seeked solace in her walls, rutting into her like a man possessed now as he sang her his praises against her skin. His hips stuttered as he lifted his head up, crashing his lips onto hers in a messy kiss as his hips pounded against hers even harder.

"Gonna— cum, fuck, I'm cumming—"

Spencer cried out against her lips, burying himself as deep inside of her as he could before filling her with rope after rope of his release. A pitiful noise fell from his lips as he broke the kiss, his eyes wide as he gawked down at her. His hips stopped moving, but before he could speak, Y/N was looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down.

“Did I say you could stop fucking me, Spencer?” Y/N’s voice was taunting in his ear, her nails digging into his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him in place.

Spencer’s brows pinched together as confusion washed over him, and his arms trembled as he struggled to remain hovering above her. His cock twitched inside of her as she canted her hips up, causing him to hiss softly from the overstimulation. His lower lip wobbled as he stared at her with a half-dazed, half-pleading look.

"W-what?"

“You greedy boy,” Y/N purred as she rolled her hips again. She smirked at the whimper he let out before tilting her head to skim her lips across his. “Don’t you want to feel me cum on your cock? Hm?”

Spencer shuddered at her words, chasing helplessly after her lips. He whined petulantly when she tilted her head, keeping him from succeeding in getting his kiss.

“I do,” Spencer whimpered, nodding fervently. “I wanna feel it so bad,” he groaned, his words beginning to slur from the pleasure coursing through him from head to toe.

“Then keep fucking me, sweetheart.”

A determined look crossed over his face, his brows knitting together as he shifted up onto his knees and pulled her hips up before thrusting forward. The change in angles had her crying out as he brushed against her sweet spot, and he grunted as he began to rock into her slowly, pushing past the sweet sting of overstimulation. He tightened his grip on her hip with one hand while his other moved to where they were connected, rubbing small, sloppy circles against her clit as he began moving with a purpose.

“Mm—“ Y/N groaned out, her eyes threatening to close as she struggled to keep them focused on his face. “Just like that, Spence. Ah—!“

The sound of his hips snapping against hers paired with the slick, crude sound of him fucking his cum back into her had his head lolling back, a guttural moan rumbling in his throat.

His hips were relentless, chasing her pleasure more so than his own now. It was messy and borderline feral—their mixed arousal coated his pelvis and her thighs and one of the corners of the sheets had come up from Y/N yanking at them. But neither of them could find it in themselves to care.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Spencer begged, shifting her legs up onto his shoulders and clinging to her thighs as he drove into her. “Please—wanna feel you cum on my cock… I need it—“

The sound of his pleading hurled her over the edge. Y/N’s nails nearly tore through the sheets as her eyes squeezed shut, cry after cry of his name falling from her open mouth as she came around him. Her body trembled from the force of her orgasm, her walls clenching so tightly around him that it triggered his second climax unexpectedly.

“Oh my God— oh— fuck!” Spencer wailed, devolving into a series of whimpers as he spilled everything he had into her.

After a moment of ragged breathing, he turned to press a kiss to her ankle before easing her limp legs off of his shoulders and to the bed. Y/N stroked his hair with shaky hands as he crumpled over on top of her, their bodies warm and damp with sweat. Their chests were heaving as they struggled to catch their breath, with Y/N whispering into his hair how good he did and how perfect he’d made her feel.

They stayed curled up for a while, but eventually, the stickiness became too much to ignore. They both stumbled into her bathroom—both for a quick shower and for Y/N to pee to avoid a UTI. After changing the sheets, they returned to her bed, and Y/N turned away to switch off the lamp, leaving them wrapped in the peaceful darkness.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Spencer asked, a shy grin on his face as she turned back to him, snuggling into his embrace as he pulled her closer.

Y/N huffed out a soft, sleepy laugh, nodding against him. “If you want me to be, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion as her eyelids fluttered shut.

“Of course I want you to,” Spencer replied, his words followed by a small yawn as sleep started to take hold of him too.

“Looks like it’s official then. I’m your girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend. Now, get some rest, my sweet boy.”

It wasn’t until the following evening, after a full day spent with Y/N on their first official date—a trip to the museum and lunch at his favorite restaurant—that he noticed something tucked into his pocket. A giddy grin spread across Spencer’s face as he unfolded the lacy pink panties, a small note tucked inside that read: For you to take on your next case. ;) xoxo - Y/N.

Spencer glanced down at the fabric in his hands, a soft chuckle escaping him as he silently thanked whatever force had made her the one to fill the vacant apartment across from his.

Continued A/N’s and tag list!! <3: Big big thank you to everyone that enjoyed part one and came back to read part two :’) And thank you to everyone that wanted to be tagged!! If you guys would like for me to start doing an official tag list, please let me know :’) <3 @halfbloodwriter , @opheliahotchner , @mothgrrrl666 , @silver138, @elliet1ou

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

[yourtypicalhuman09]

Beyond The Bat

(Neglected reader x Yandere batfam)

Prologue: Why me?

TW!!! Cursing !!Dark AU!!

Why is this happening?

The woman in front of me stood close. Too close. A hand was outstretched in an attempt to comfort me. I don't want her fucking comfort. I want answers.

"Why..."

The word left my lips before I could process it. My world was crashing. The room was spinning. It was getting hard to breath. I knew I sounded pathetic. I know I look pathetic. God I'm pathetic. Why can't I fight for this? Why does it seem like the only thing I can do right is fall behind as the world moves on without me.

"I'm sorry (Y/N), but we found someone better suiting of your position. We had no choice, the whole student body petitioned for Tim to become president of the student body."

Tim Drake. God I loathed that name. Every time I have something good one of those bat bastards has to make my life miserable again. For as long as I could remember I had been alone. I had to be the perfect child and yet I was never praised for the things I've done right, only punished for the things I've done wrong. Is this another punishment... Did I linger too long during diner yesterday? Did I not provide a good enough reaction during Damian's beating? Did I not hide my exhaustion well enough? Did I accidentally start a scandal?

"God (Y/N) what are you still doing here? We both know you have things to do at home. Plus you're not needed here anymore."

I heard his voice before I saw him. His condescending tone never ceases to send a chill down my spine. I steeled myself and turned to face my brother.

"I'm sorry Tim. looks like I lost track of time, I'll head back now"

I returned his dark look with a cold look of my own. I will not let him, or anyone for that matter, have the pleasure of seeing me break. I may have lost but I will not give him the chance to laugh and jeer at my failure. I turned and left the room, my posture straight and my head held high. I don't know what I'll do now but I will not let myself be seen as some pathetic hopeless child with no potential or worth. I ignored the feeling of Tim's calculating gaze boring holes through my figure and continued to walk on. Maybe I should take that person up on their offer. Maybe I could use their help...

Authors note: Omg prologue is done! Thank you all for participating in the polls and reading! I hope this is a good prologue, I'm super excited for this story. Thank you all for your support and please feel free to send me any asks I love hearing y'all's thoughts! Anyways with nothing else to say I wish you all a good day/night and I'll update you all on chapter 1 soon, until next time!

@simpingpandas

[gigiszn]

saw u asking for different shows to write abt and if you like squid games i’d love ANYTHING abt player 388🥰 kang dae-ho ml

FOREVER — kang dae ho x fem!reader.

tw: idk if there is any, mentions of debt, mentions of pregnancy, a kiss

FLUFF!

wc: 2.3k

ask and you shall receive! heres a fluff on kang dae-ho, a turn from what i usually write lol! request for any show and any character! i write fluff, smut, angst, etc. :)

۫ ꣑ৎ ｡°‧⭑.ᐟ

The moment you discovered her pregnancy after the first game, a primal instinct surged through you—sisterly protection, fierce and unwavering. She reminded you of your own sister back home—quiet, yet impulsive, and always acting without thinking. In that, you felt an overwhelming need to protect her the way you would your own blood.

But it was more than that. The man who had impregnated her, the crypto scammer, lingered in the back of your mind. You couldn’t forget that he, too, was in the game. The weight of your circumstances hit you all over again—the crushing debt, the loan sharks breathing down your neck, the money you borrowed to send your sister to school, to keep food on the table, all while you had no means of repayment. The reason you were in this game, a nightmare you hadn't asked for, was in part because of him.

And yet, as much as your mind raged, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him—not when you, too, were desperate. Not when you, too, were fighting just to survive.

So you stayed by Jun-hee’s side as she stubbornly refused to join Myung-gi’s team, even though his group was probably the safest option. Safety didn’t matter when it came to her. Not now.

You walked the room together, rejection after rejection from every team you approached. The ticking clock was an ever-present reminder of how little time you had. Doubt gnawed at you, an icy presence. Hope was slipping away, like water through your fingers.

Then, a voice broke through the haze of your thoughts.

“Do you... need a group?”

You turned, startled, and saw a group of three men standing just behind you. The one who had spoken seemed almost nervous, his voice shaking slightly, as if asking felt like an intrusion. But there was something in his eyes, something hesitant but sincere.

You glanced at his companions—two men who looked just as cautious. One of them, a wild-eyed figure, looked as if he might burst at any moment. He had the air of someone who had lived through madness before, someone whose grip on reality was tenuous at best. You, like everyone else, had assumed he was crazy, his mind lost in withdrawal from the lack of drugs in his system.

But in that instant, you didn’t have the luxury to second-guess. There was no time to analyze the situation or consider the risks. The clock was ticking down, the seconds slipping by like sand through an hourglass.

You bit your lip, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, with a tight breath, you nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

The two other men, though clearly wary, shared the same understanding. There was no choice. You had to make it through the next round, together.

The game blurred into a haze of frantic movements, strategy, and quick reflexes. You barely remembered the moments between each challenge, each game feeling like a blur of adrenaline and fear. For a brief moment, you stumbled in the jegi game, your foot missing the ball—but somehow, with a burst of luck and panic-fueled desperation, you made it through.

When dinner time arrived, the weight of exhaustion settled on you. You found a quiet corner with the rest of your group, trying to make yourself small and invisible as you huddled together with your new team. A man named Young-il joined you, his eyes fixed on Gi-hun with an almost religious intensity. You couldn’t quite understand the fascination, but there was something about Gi-hun—his calm demeanor, his quiet strength—that seemed to draw people in.

You handed Jun-hee your drink and half of your food, your heart heavy with concern.

“You’re eating for two,” you said, pressing the plate into her hands, despite the reluctant frown she gave. “You need a second meal.”

Her protest was immediate, but you only shook your head, ignoring her discomfort. You couldn't bear the thought of her going hungry—not now, not when she was carrying so much more than herself. Even if she resisted, you had made your choice. And if you had to fight the whole world to keep her safe, you would.

The others followed suit, and you couldn’t help but smile at their quiet initiative. Their willingness to stick together, despite the madness around them, felt like a small spark of hope in the midst of all the darkness.

But before you could indulge in the rare moment of peace, a tap on your shoulder broke the spell. You turned, and there was Dae-ho, his eyes carrying a weight of something you couldn’t quite name—longing, maybe? Admiration? He extended the last half of his food toward you, a silent offering.

"Oh, I couldn’t," you said, shaking your head and gently pushing the food back toward him, placing it in his lap.

"No man should ever let a woman go hungry," Dae-ho said firmly, his words simple yet filled with something tender that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. His voice was steady, but there was a softness there that made your heart beat a little faster.

You offered him a gentle smile, your fingers brushing the side of his hand as you took the half-split food. Without another word, you broke it into two pieces and handed him one. It was a small gesture, but it felt monumental in the suffocating silence that surrounded you.

You ate in quiet company, the weight of the game pressing down on each of you in different ways. As the minutes slipped by, you noticed how your body seemed to inch toward Dae-ho, as though the space between you two had silently shrunk. There was a warmth in his presence, something comforting amidst all the chaos.

The night was thick with silence, the occasional sound of heavy breaths or the muffled snores of the others filling the otherwise still air. Sleep was evasive. You lay awake, the anxiety of the next game gnawing at you, a constant buzz in your mind. It was like trying to guess the next wave of disaster, only to have it keep you from ever truly resting.

"Can’t sleep either?" A voice whispered from the bed to your left, low and soft.

You jumped, your heart racing as you instinctively slapped a hand to your chest. "Gosh, Dae-ho, don’t scare me like that," you sighed, the words half-teasing, half-serious.

He gave an apologetic grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement even in the dim light. Then, raising an eyebrow toward your bed, he gestured to the space next to you. You nodded, the corner of your lips curling into a small smile as you scooched over to make room. Without another word, he climbed down from his ladder, then up to yours, settling beside you with quiet grace.

You both sat in the dark, knees drawn to your chest, your backs leaning against the cold, unforgiving brick wall. You felt lucky to have a bed at the back of the bunks—it offered the illusion of safety, a small semblance of control in a world that had none.

“I have a sister,” you murmured, your voice softer than usual, almost as if you were telling a secret. "She’s 18."

Dae-ho nodded, his gaze drifting down to the worn-out uniform issued shoes he was still wearing. “I have sisters too. Four of them. All older than me. That’s why my dad made me join the Marines. Wanted me to... ‘toughen up,’ I suppose.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind where words weren’t always necessary. The sound of your breaths seemed to echo louder than usual, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was shared, almost intimate.

Slowly, your knee brushed against his. You paused, waiting for a shift, a moment of awkwardness. But it never came. Instead, his shoulder gently brushed yours, and the small, simple connection felt like a quiet promise. Your head tilted slightly, resting on his shoulder. You felt the tension leave his body, felt him relax just a fraction as his hand came to rest lightly on your knee.

"I... wish we could stay like this," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You smiled, the softest of sounds escaping your lips as you nodded, your forehead resting against him for just a moment longer. “Forever.”

He repeated the word softly, a quiet reverence in his voice. “Forever.”

You noticed then, in the stillness, that his finger had started to tap gently against your knee, the rhythm slow but deliberate. A subtle pattern. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. "Is that... morse code?"

His movements stilled instantly, and when he turned to look at you, there was a flicker of something you couldn’t place—a hint of nervousness, maybe even fear.

"Do... do you know morse code?" he asked, his voice suddenly smaller, like he was worried you might somehow decipher it.

You glanced at him, then back at his hand. The simple, almost childish rhythm of the taps seemed so out of place, yet so perfectly in sync with the quiet moments you shared.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his words, before a teasing smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "No," you said, your voice soft but jovial. "Why?"

He looked down for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he were weighing his next words carefully. Then, with a soft exhale, he stared at your knee, his finger resuming its rhythm.

“I,” he began again, tapping the first letter with deliberate slowness, “love,” he continued, each tap resonating against your skin like a heartbeat.

You could feel the weight of each letter as it sank into you, each tap bringing you closer to an unspoken truth. He paused, his fingers lingering for a moment before finishing the final word, and you already knew—knew what he was saying before the last tap even landed.

In this place, bonds were formed quickly, forged under pressure, either becoming unbreakable or twisted into something dark and dangerous. But this... this bond, you could already sense, was different.

You took a deep breath and, with a steady hand, completed the final sequence of taps on his knee. The air around you seemed to hold its breath as you finished, your finger resting softly against his skin.

His gaze was fixed on you, his mouth slightly parted, waiting for your response. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked into his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you felt far away. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and despite everything, you allowed it to settle into place.

"You."

You move closer, each subtle shift in position drawing you nearer, the air between you thick with anticipation. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, then back to his gaze, the unspoken tension palpable as your breaths mingle in the silence.

With every inch you close, the world around you seems to fall away, leaving only the soft beat of your hearts, echoing the unacknowledged yearning between you. His lips brush lightly against yours, the contact so delicate it almost feels like a dream, a teasing promise that hangs just out of reach.

You hover there, the barest touch igniting a fire you didn’t expect, as if the very act of waiting, of drawing this moment out, makes it all the more meaningful. Finally, with a quiet exhale, you close the distance, your lips pressing against his in a slow, deliberate kiss. It isn’t rushed, but filled with intention—a tenderness that speaks of everything you’ve yet to say.

The kiss deepens, slow and unhurried, each movement charged with a quiet intensity, as if your souls are speaking through the press of your lips, exchanging words you don’t need to say aloud. In that kiss, time seems to stretch, each second more profound than the last, a connection that is as much about the pause as it is about the embrace.

You slowly pull away, the warmth of the moment still lingering on your lips, but the quiet space between you now feels just as intimate. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, as if he’s trying to hold onto the softness of what just passed, before you gently settle back, your head finding its place once more on his shoulder.

You can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, the solid presence of him grounding you in a way nothing else can. The tension in your body begins to melt, replaced by a sense of calm you hadn’t realized you were missing. You let out a soft sigh, the weight of everything you’ve been holding onto slipping away.

“Yeah, forever,” you whisper, the words feeling like a promise, a quiet certainty that somehow fills all the empty spaces in between.

He chuckles softly, the sound like a soft breath of relief, and you can hear the smile in his voice as it washes over you. The sound pulls a faint smile from your own lips as you close your eyes, and for a moment, there’s nothing left to do but just be.

The world around you seems to fade, the worries, the fears, the uncertainties, all slipping away with each steady breath you take. You both close your eyes, drifting back into the comforting quiet of sleep, the closeness between you settling into something deeper than you can quite explain.

The unsureness that had clouded your mind before feels distant now, replaced by a quiet peace that only he could bring. As long as you have each other, nothing else matters. In the soft cocoon of his arms, you let yourself fall into the safety of the moment, the weight of the world no longer pressing down on you.

You fall asleep with a heart full of quiet certainty, knowing you’re not alone in this, that the world can wait, as long as you have him by your side.