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reidmania · 2 months ago

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a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

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nadvs · 8 months ago

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cam girl (part twelve) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe realizes his hands are shaking as he rereads your text.

His eyes keep going over your words, standing up off his bed and pacing around his room just because the adrenaline won’t let him stay seated.

Why the fuck are you doing this to him?

i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

Hot anger bubbles inside his chest. He immediately texts you back: what the fuck do you mean

Minutes pass. You don’t answer.

Rafe: ?????

Again. No answer.

Rafe: dont ignore me

He can’t take it anymore. He taps on the Call button. It rings and rings and rings. He texts you again.

Rafe: answer me

Finally, you respond: i dont need to listen to you. leave me alone

This has to be a cruel joke. Yet again, you’re cold to him out of fucking nowhere, after he thought you had a good time together.

Rafe recalls this morning, to the worried look on your face when you saw his black eye, making him think that maybe you see something of value past the wall he built around him.

He risked his pride by telling you that he always thinks about you, and now you’re done with him?

He texts you again: why are u acting like this

Thank fuck you respond.

You: i guess the slut got bored of you first

His body goes cold. He knows you’re referring to what one of his friends said. You heard that?

If that’s why you’re so pissed off, he needs to talk to you about it in person. He grabs his car keys and rushes out of the house.

Rafe is pounding on your door for so long that his hand is starting to hurt almost as much as it did when he threw those punches last night.

He feels himself teetering on the edge, getting close to the manic state he knows and hates.

He pulls his phone out to text you: open the door

You: ??? i’m not home

At this point, he sees red. He could break his damn phone if he didn’t need it right now. He calls you again, his jaw clenched so tight that it hurts.

His stomach tightens when the dial tone stops after two rings.

“Am I gonna have to block your number?” you say when you answer. The sound of a crowd and loud music buzzes in the background. He clues in that you’re at a party.

“Where are you?” he asks, head hanging, staring at the hallway floor.

“That’s none of your business.” He can hear a slur in your words.

“Are you drunk?”

“I can drink if I want to. I know you love to think you own me, but you don’t.”

Rafe swallows hard, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard your voice shake. Fuck. You’re crying and it’s his fault.

“Where are you?” Rafe repeats. “Let’s - we need to…” He’s stammering, anxious and unbalanced. “We need to talk… I swear, I’ll fucking wait here until you come home if you don’t tell me where you are.”

Your back is against a wall, the phone pressed to your ear. The room is loud and humid from all the bodies crammed together into one house.

You hate that you’re crying over him and you hate that he can hear it. As if his ego needs the boost.

“Why?” you finally ask, voice strained, hoping he’ll tell you what you want to hear. That there’s a part of him that cares about you.

Rafe is silent for a moment.

“Which one is it?” His chest is tight. He can’t say it now. Not over the phone.

“Neither,” you reply, then hang up. You know he’s just horny and possessive and mad. And definitely bluffing.

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you take another shot. Time melts away from you as you get lost in the music with your friend, determined to get Rafe and his drama off of your mind.

It’s half past one in the morning when you order a cab. The alcohol has almost worn off at this point. Someone spilled a drink on you and you just want to take a shower and sleep. You have to promise yourself that you won’t give into the impulse to wear Rafe’s shirt to bed.

You exit the elevator and your heart stops when you see Rafe sitting on the floor, his back against your door, his knee raised, his head slumped.

He meant it. He waited. For over three fucking hours.

When you get close enough for him to hear your footsteps, Rafe clambers up to stand, towering over you. His eyes sweep over your face, the blue in them even more prominent in contrast to the dark bruise over his right eye.

Even though your heart, the traitor, is thumping with desire, the ache of what he did to you is louder. It was barbaric, what he said about you. What he let his friend say about you.

“Why are you still here?” you say as evenly as you can.

“You can’t…” Rafe shakes his head, frustrated. He immediately notices you’re not wearing the necklace he gave you and his chest aches. “You can’t end this.”

“Watch me,” you say with a scoff, nudging past him. You feel him behind you, hear his shallow breaths. You unlock your door and pull out your keys.

He won’t move. You turn to look at him again, feeling your lips thin in aggravation.

“Rafe,” you state. “Please. I just want to shower and sleep. Go home.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

“Why can’t you just go find another girl to fuck around with?” you say, raising your tone.

He almost feels nauseous hearing you say that.

“Are you worried you won’t find one who does everything like I do?” you ask. “I just can’t say no, right? That’s what you told your friends.”

Rafe looks down in shame, nostrils flaring. His lips screw up in anger. He has no words to offer.

“Go home,” you repeat. You’re sure he’s just upset about losing his favorite booty call, just so not accustomed to not getting what he wants.

Rafe doesn’t budge. You’re sober enough to know you can’t continue this conversation in the hallway and risk your voices carrying into your neighbors’ homes.

Frustrated and embittered, you turn your doorknob and accept the fact that he’s not leaving without a fight.

You turn on the dim overhead light and stand in your tiny kitchen, facing Rafe with your arms crossed, as the door shuts behind him.

He steps towards you, hands sliding up your arms before he leans down to try to kiss you.

“Stop,” you mutter, shoving him off, pushing him away.

He tries again, putting his palms on your cheeks.

“No,” you snap, driving him away harder.

Rafe feels hollow. Lost. He’s fine with showing anger. It’s second nature to him. But this? This tangled feeling of yearning feels impossible to verbally express to you.

“Why?” is all he can sputter.

“I’m not letting you use me anymore,” you say through gritted teeth.

Rafe had no idea you’d react like this over the moronic shit he and his friend said. He thought you were fine with how things were. That you were detached.

Despite the rage and anxiety consuming him, the fact that you’re this angry over this ridiculous idea that you’re not a person to him, that you maybe want to be more, makes hope bloom in his heart.

“It’s not like that,” Rafe says.

“It is,” you argue. “I’m done acting like I’m okay with it. I could handle it at the beginning, but…”

You sigh. You can’t give him the satisfaction of telling him you have feelings for him. You start to get choked up again, though, your body betraying you. You can’t hide what he does to you from him anymore.

“I’m done,” you say resolutely. This man is nothing but trouble. “My contact picture in your phone is a fucking nude. I’m just body parts to you and I respect myself too much to keep this going. Just leave. You won’t change my mind.”

“I can’t… I can’t not see you anymore,” he grovels.

“You’re just mad you won’t be able to brag to your buddies about what I let you do to me.”

“No.” Rafe brings the heels of his hands up to his eyes, looking so damn flustered. “I’m not mad about that. I… Fuck, it’s…”

“What about when he called me a slut to run through? You laughed. After he said something so fucking horrible about me-”

“Wait,” he snaps, tone rising. “Just wait. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” you say sharply, shocked by his audacity to be the angry one here.

He takes a deep breath.

“When he called you that, I…” Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. “It’s how we always talk and I - I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I didn’t have the balls to tell him to shut the fuck up. And then last night…”

He vaguely gestures to his black eye. His mind replays the rage he felt when he heard the vulgar words used to describe you. The way his fist met his friend’s jaw. Rafe walked away with a swollen eye, but it was nothing compared to what he had inflicted.

“He said something about you and I beat the shit out of him like I should’ve the first time.”

“What’d he say?” you ask after a beat.

“It doesn’t matter.”

So, that’s what happened to him last night. You’re almost touched to hear he defended your honor, but the memory of the text you saw on his phone darkens your mood instantly, reminding you of how dispensable and cheap it made you feel.

“This the same friend who texted you about all the bitches at that party?” you say bitterly.

Rafe meets your gaze.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe realizes that was the reason for your abrupt coldness. You were jealous. He hates that he hurt you, but admittedly, the feeling of you being envious over him is so fucking gratifying.

He sighs your name. He didn’t even glance at another girl last night. Why would he? “For fuck’s sake, I texted you all night. I told you I’m always thinking about you.”

“Rafe, you texted me about how all you want to do is hook up with me.”

“That’s not… that’s not all I want,” he sighs, defeated. How can he explain that the way he touches you is how he tells you what he’s feeling? He’s so fucking bad at talking about it.

“Then why did you talk about me like that?” you ask.

“I was…” Rafe begins. He swallows hard, his eyes refusing to meet yours now. “I know I shouldn’t have said that shit but-”

“You’re only saying this now ‘cause you got caught.”

“No, it’s - it’s more than that. I-”

“You were just being honest,” you say with a shrug. “I did everything you told me to and you wanted to brag.”

“Yeah- I mean, no…” he stammers. Your use of the past-tense is so damn hurtful, the implication that you really are through with him, and before he can think to hide it, tears start to gloss his eyes. “Just listen-”

“If I’m just an easy fuck to you, then that’s fine, just own up to it.”

“Let me talk!” he finally shouts. Rafe’s head is spinning. He’s angry and anxious and close to losing his mind.

You don’t even cower, not letting him get to you. But when you realize he’s crying, too, your blood runs cold.

“Goddamn it.” He frantically brings his hands up to his head, fingers on his temples. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to- I don’t know how to talk about this fucking feeling you give me.”

“Try,” you say.

Rafe’s breath is shaky, blinking fast as he gazes at you.

“This is more than sex. I’m fucking… I’m falling for you,” he finally admits.

No words come to your mind. The air between you is thick. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Your stomach is numb.

Rafe lowers his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s worked himself up in such a panic.

He doesn’t know how or when you cracked into this side of him that he didn’t even know existed, but you did. And you’re not leaving.

“Are you serious?” you ask quietly through a shallow exhale.

“Do I need to beg you to believe me?” he says.

“Yeah,” you say with a sarcastic huff, pushing him to see where his limit is. To see if he’s being honest.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing when Rafe sinks down onto the floor in front of you, his knees on your cheap linoleum. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his warm mouth, soft lips kissing your palm.

He realizes he would rather lose all of his pride than lose you.

“Rafe,” you say, the edge to your tone completely gone now.

The shift in your dynamic is harrowing. He’s always the one in control, the one with the upper hand. Now he’s on his fucking knees for you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I’m so fucking sorry I said that shit. I’ll never do it again. You’re not just an easy…”

He can’t even say it.

“You’re so much more,” he says. There’s hopelessness in his gaze. You’re rattled with shock, your heart feeling like it’s burning in your chest.

You can’t believe it. You can’t fathom that he likes you more than just from the waist down.

“What if I stopped hooking up with you?” you challenge. “I keep seeing you but it’s nothing physical. What then?“

“That’s okay,” he says, without hesitation.

“I mean no sex,” you say. “At all.”

“Fine.”

You pout at him in endearment as relief pools through you.

Rafe is racked with the deepest form of desperation. He can’t picture a day without you. Without your smile, your humor, your voice, your smell. He fell off the deep end and there’s no fucking saving him.

Your stare is puncturing him. He’s sure he fucked up too massively to earn any sort of chance with you ever again.

But when you finally lean down to press your lips onto his, euphoria rushes through his entire being. He frantically scrambles to stand, feeling his face contort with disbelief and gratefulness and a yearning so hard that it hurts.

Rafe’s kisses are deep but fast, his big hands cradling your head, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

You pull back, looking up at him with a tiny shred of remaining suspicion that he’s not being genuine.

“Let me stay the night,” he says, voice low, lids heavy. You’re unsure that he really means he’d be with you even without the sex.

You only look at him.

“I won’t try anything,” he adds. He knows you needed the reassurance. You stare at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, resting your hands on his firm, heaving chest.

“Shower with me,” you tell him, restless to wash the night off of you. “And prove it.”

Rafe nods, your face still in his hands. Fuck, he feels like you have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything to keep you in his life.

“Let me do the work,” he says.

You step back, heart racing, and raise your hands over your head. His fingers quickly find the edge of your top, slowly lifting it and pulling it off of you. Your jeans are next, the denim sliding down your legs.

Rafe presses against you, leading you backwards into your bathroom. His lips press against your forehead as he unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the floor.

He’s on his knees again as he peels your underwear off. You watch his eyes trail up your bare body. He can’t hide the lust in his stare, no matter how hard he tries.

As you turn on the shower, you hear the rustle of him taking his clothes off. When you step into the tub, you feel his body against your back. Big hands skim up your arms as you turn the faucet, prompting hot water to rain down on both of you.

Rafe can’t stop himself from asking.

“Did you talk to any guys at that party?” His voice echoes against the porcelain, loud even over the sound of the shower.

You smile to yourself.

“How am I gonna focus on another guy when you’re texting me so damn much?”

“Princess,” he huffs. You laugh and turn in his arms to rest your hands on his shoulders.

“No,” you tell him. “I didn’t want to.”

Rafe smirks and leans down, but stops an inch away from your lips.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks.

“Hmm… fine,” you tease. “But that’s the farthest you can go.” He captures your lips in his, his mouth warm. You feel him grow against you and you pull away to look down, his cock already almost fully hard.

“Okay, I can’t control that,” he says. You meet his eyes and share the first laugh that you’ve had together tonight.

You pick up your body wash and hand it to him. It’ll drive him crazy to touch you like this and not be able to do anything about it.

“You get my body,” you say, admittedly excited to tempt him. “And I’ll do my hair.”

Rafe’s forehead crinkles in concentration as he squeezes the body wash into his palm. Your eyes are on him as he lathers the gel over your shoulders first.

“You’re cute when you’re focused,” you giggle, starting to massage your shampoo into your hair.

The sound of your laugh, the aroma in the air is so fucking nice to him. It’s so you.

His palms move up and down your arms in gentle circles. Rafe’s groin is getting tighter by the second and the fact that he won’t get any relief for it is agony. But he needs to prove himself to you.

“You ignoring my tits on purpose?” you ask.

Rafe cocks his head in mild irritation. Touching you there will only make him harder. You exhale in pleasure once his hands rest on your breasts, gently kneading.

“You can’t make those sounds,” he says, voice strained.

“I can do whatever I want,” you reply. His hands dip below the curves of your tits. You purposely moan louder than you normally would just to torment him.

His jaw tightens as he collects more of your body wash to smooth down your stomach. His hands slide over your hips, the water and soap making your skin extra slippery, and he lands on your ass.

“Massage me a bit there,” you tell him. He huffs an aggravated chuckle, then starts to rub into your flesh.

The crook of Rafe’s neck is at your chin as he leans to massage you and you plant a gentle kiss on his wet skin. The gesture makes his stomach twist with adoration.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he mumbles, running his hands up your back. You can feel him against your leg; he’s fully erect and pining for you to touch him.

“My ass is still sore,” you groan, continuing to lather the shampoo onto your hair. “You were so rough on me in front the mirror, remember?”

The memory of fucking you on the floor in his room makes his arousal skyrocket even higher. He exhales and smooths his hands over your ass again.

You tilt your head to the side as you moan. You feel Rafe’s mouth press against your exposed neck, then he grunts against your skin and moves away abruptly.

“Getting frustrated?” you whisper.

“No,” he lies.

The hot water continues to ebb down your body as Rafe squeezes your ass.

“You can get my legs now,” you mumble. He’s half-relieved, half-frustrated to have to move his hands.

Rafe rubs in circles over your thighs, his breath heavy.

“Get on your knees so you can reach everything,” you say as you wash out the shampoo from your hair. You’re testing him, ordering him around like he usually does to you, seeing if he’ll crack.

When he kneels down, you hike your leg up onto the tub, your middle inches away from his face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, wishing he could just taste you. His hands are sliding down your calves as he gawks at the beauty between your legs, knowing you’re purposely tempting him.

His eyes trail up to your face. He looks ravenous for you.

Falling for you. He said he was falling for you.

“What?” you say with a smile. Rafe only shakes his head, continuing to run his hands over your legs.

“I said kissing is allowed,” you say, revelling in this feeling of control over him.

He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are against your pussy immediately, kissing you over and over. If you tried to keep count of how many kisses he was planting on you, you’d fail in seconds.

Arousal twists deep inside you, wanting him so badly, but loving the game you’re playing.

His lips wrap around your clit and he starts to suck, prompting you push your fingers through his hair, damp from the shower, and tug to pull him off of you.

“Kisses only,” you say. “Unless you didn’t mean what you said?”

“I did,” he huffs. He roughly shoves your wrist away to get close to you again, lips puckered. You feel his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, then pull apart your lips.

“Can I spread you open, baby?” he asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Please,” he begs.

“Kisses. Only.”

He groans. You laugh.

“You got me so turned on,” you moan. “I need to just…”

You slip your fingers between his mouth and your clit, denying him any more access.

Rafe thinks this could be thing to that finally makes him lose his fucking mind. But he stays still, knees aching from the hard tub, as you play with yourself right in front of him.

“That feels so nice,” you whisper, your knees weak. You put your other hand against the shower wall, looking down at him.

“Hold me up,” you order. He grips your hips and watches you moan and writhe over him, dipping your head back.

You dip a finger inside of you, tightening and sighing.

“Fuck.” He literally whimpers the word.

“God, there’s so many things I can think about while I touch myself,” you moan. “Like when we fucked in your car? Or when I squirted on you?”

“Which time?” he mutters, trying to have any sort of power right now by reminding you of what he can do to you.

“Aw,” you coo. “Is this like when I’m on camera? You can watch but you can’t touch me?”

“Shit,” Rafe breathes. You moan, the water dripping off of you.

He has to look away at this point. His cock is so hard that it hurts. His eyes go low, seeing a bead of precum on his swollen tip. He tries to comfort himself by thinking about how he can jerk off later.

“Get up,” you say. He brings himself up on his feet, towering over you again.

You turn your back to him again and start to rub your scalp to make sure you washed all the shampoo out.

“You’re probably cold on that side, hmm?” you ask.

Rafe’s temperature is the least of his concerns.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder. You run your hands down your body and pause over your ass, spreading yourself open.

“Put your cock right here,” you tell him.

“I- I can’t,” he moans.

“You can,” you encourage.

He kneels to place himself right where you want him. You let go, your asscheeks hugging him, feeling his length pressed up against you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, twitching against you. “This is… fuck…”

“If you didn’t mean that you can be with me without the sex, just say so.”

“I meant it,” he says. “But this is torture. I need to go. I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?”

“You can’t keep it together for me?” you tease. “I thought you liked me.”

“I fucking love you,” Rafe groans, making your heart flutter.

You’re done playing this game. You need him now.

You turn to face him, pulling him down with your hands cupping his neck to kiss him. He’s biting your bottom lip, kissing you hard.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers breathlessly.

“I want to,” you say against his lips, wrapping your hand around his cock. “What do you want?” He bucks up against you, groaning.

“I wanna fuck you,” he pleads.

“Then fuck me.”

Rafe’s rough and fast as he hitches your leg up, pushing you to lean against the shower wall. He lines himself up at your cunt, stretching you so much nicer than your fingers ever could.

He keeps his eyes on you when he thrusts into you, his expression both needy and satisfied.

“Thank you,” he whispers. The feeling of him thanking you for letting him be inside you hits you like a drug.

Rafe is in heaven. You squeeze him so fucking good as he rocks in and out of you. He needs to make you cum before he does. You deserve it. You deserve all the pleasure in the world.

When he starts to rub his thumb over your clit, you’re trembling with bliss. Everything in this moment feels so damn good.

“You’re my girl,” he mumbles, his usual possessive side back now. “Say it.”

“I’m your girl,” you respond. “Fuck… I love you.”

Rafe is sure he has never felt happier in his life. His thrusts get harder and faster, and with the pressure on your clit and the hot water coating your body, you whine through your orgasm.

To him, it’s a gift watching you reach your peak. You clench around him in rhythmic flutters and he can’t hold back anymore, his cum gushing out of him so fucking hard that he sees stars.

This is the best sex he’s ever had. Because now he knows it’s more than just something physical for both of you.

He kisses you hard as his body trembles, pumping into you. His forehead is against yours as you pant together and even though he’s exhausted, he stays inside you as long as he can manage.

When he pulls out, he brings his hands to your cheeks and kisses you again.

“You meant that?” he asks. He needs to know you that really do love him. That it wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. You look up at him, his lips parted, the water dripping down his face.

“Yes,” you say. His dimples are deep in his cheeks as he smiles at you.

As Rafe helps you clean up, he’s pissed at himself that he never did this before. He hates that you had to always do this alone. He won’t ever let that happen again.

Once you’re both lying in your bed, your bedroom dark save for a streetlamp casting a dull light through the window, Rafe holds you tight.

Your cheek is against his shoulder as he surrounds you in his arms. You both remained naked and the feeling of your bare bodies pressed together like this is perfection.

You softly trace your finger over the bruise covering his eye. The one his friend left on him because of something he said about you.

“What’d he say?” you ask.

“I’m not repeating it,” Rafe replies.

“Please?” you ask. “I wanna know what made you go crazy.”

“He said I seem happier lately,” Rafe says. “And before I told him it was because I wanna… be with you for real, he said… he wants to see if he could get…”

“God,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t have to say any more. His buddy wanted a turn with you.

“But hey, I’m not gonna let anyone say anything like that about you, okay?” he promises. “I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to.”

You picture being out in public with Rafe, his arm around you. And you can’t help but ask. You need to know.

“So… are you gonna… want me around your friends and stuff?” you ask.

“Of course,” he tells you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my girl, right?”

It’s jarring. You’re not a lower-class maid to him. Not his personal whore. Not his slutty sugar baby. You’re a woman he loves.

Legs tangled, you fall asleep together, and you adore that the worry of falling for him is now gone. Because you’re in love, and so is he, and now you can enjoy him without telling yourself you can’t.

When you wake up the next morning, you shuffle in your position to find him, but you’re alone.

Your heart drops. Could he have been faking…?

You can’t jump to that conclusion. You’re about to check your phone when you hear crinkling coming from the kitchen.

You put on underwear and the shirt you stole from him a while ago before padding into the kitchen. He’s standing over your table, removing containers from bags.

You realize it’s from your favorite nearby bistro. He ordered food for you.

“Breakfast?” you ask. Rafe looks up at you and he doesn’t understand how every time he sees you, you strike him with how adorable you are.

“You hungry?” he says.

You settle across from him at the table. You realize he must have referenced the screenshot you sent him after the first night that he stayed over, when he sent you money to order breakfast and you sent him proof of what you bought.

As you dig into your food, you gaze at him. Blue eyes meet yours. He smirks. It doesn’t feel real. He used to look so out of place in your apartment, but this feels so natural.

“We gonna talk about how much of a cuddler you are?” you tease.

“Shut up,” he laughs. “Eat your food.”

You laugh and continue to chew.

“What do you have to do today?” he asks.

“I should study,” you say. “I was going to last night after work, but you know…”

Rafe looks down and his Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.

“Are you gonna keep working?” he asks. “I don’t want you to. I wanna take care of you.”

As much as he loves seeing you around his house twice a week, he’s been getting more and more uncomfortable with the idea of you having to work so hard, having to clean up after him.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “I think I need to have the independence. To know I’m working for my own money. Does that make sense?”

“With your attitude? Yeah,” he says. You laugh.

You hope the gossip between your coworkers doesn’t get any farther up the chain. For now, you want to keep your job and the steadiness it promises.

“You can’t pull me away from my work to hook up whenever you want, though, okay?” you say.

“Even when I find you in my bed?” he asks.

“That was one time,” you scoff.

Rafe leans over to place his phone in front of you. He has your contact info up. The photo isn’t what it was before, though. It’s a photo of you sleeping, cheek pressed on his chest.

He must have taken it this morning. He wants to prove you’re not just a body to him.

Your eyes study his screen and you smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s staring at you.

But then again, you never really noticed how much he looked at you whenever you came to work at the house.

He can still remember the rush he felt when he randomly found you on that damn website. You were a fucking fantasy to him, a dream that he never thought he’d get to live out.

But here you are and by some crazy stroke of luck, you found something in him worth loving.

Rafe always enjoyed having some sort of ownership over you, claiming you as his. Because deep down, he always kind of knew he belonged to you. Whether you want him or not, he’s yours.

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR THIS SERIES 💘 it’s so bittersweet ending it. i had so much fun writing this and it’s because of your comments and messages 😭 i’ll be writing more fics! if you want updates, please follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications since i’ll be reblogging my work there. love you all!!!

#BRACE YOURSELVES THIS POST IS LONGGG #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe x you #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader

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tokkiwrites · 30 days ago

Text

summary: joel witnesses yet another fight between you and your dad, and frankly, he's tired of the way you've been talking to your old man. so he decides to teach you a lesson.

tags: pwp, dbf!joel, daddy kink, brat taming, spanking, age gap, p in v (unprotected yikes!), degradation, pet names, dirty talk galore!, creampie, head (f receiving), a short fight scene, family problems kind of, mean joel kind of.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ happy spookytokki kinktober!! the third and most anticipated one i think!! dbf joel wowza! 3.46k words of just pure smut >:) hope u likey! if u see any errors..no u dont.

“You’ve always gotta push every button, don’t you?” he snapped, his words flaring like sparks off dry wood. the kitchen boomed with both your voices. “Can’t you just do what’s best for once?”

You felt your pulse quicken, anger twisting up inside you like a coiled spring. “What’s best?” you spat back, incredulous. “You mean what you think is best, don’t you? God, Dad, you can’t keep treating me like I’m some clueless kid who needs his hand held!”

His face flushed a deep red, brows pulling tight together. “If you didn’t act like a kid, I wouldn’t have to! You wanna run off and live some big-shot life, fine. But don’t you dare act like I’m the one in the wrong for worryin’ about you.”

Before you could bite out a response, the sound of a chair creaking interrupted you. Joel shifted where he sat in the living room, the leather of the old armchair groaning under his weight. He hadn’t said a word since the argument began, just sat there with his arms crossed and a distant look on his face. Now, though, he glanced over, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before sliding back to your father.

“Maybe…” Joel’s voice was low, that drawl he had stretching the word out slow and easy. “Maybe you both wanna step back a bit. Cool down some.”

Your father exhaled, frustration radiating off him in waves, but he gave a terse nod, like he knew there wasn’t any use arguing anymore. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Probably for the best.”

He threw one last look your way—one full of hurt and something else, something that looked a lot like regret—before turning sharply and stalking out of the kitchen. The front door opened and then slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the house.

You stood there for a moment, the silence thick and oppressive. Then, with a growl of frustration, you spun on your heel and stormed down the hallway to your room. The door banged shut with a sharp thud, and you collapsed onto the edge of your bed, breath coming in quick, angry bursts. You hated that he could still get under your skin like that, twist everything you said, and make you feel small, childish.

Minutes ticked by, your thoughts a jumbled mess of resentment and guilt, when you heard a soft knock on your door. It was barely more than a tap, but it sent a jolt through you. You sat up straighter, glaring at the door.

“Come in,” you said, voice flat.

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped inside, the light from the hallway casting his shadow long across the floor. He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

“He’s gone,” he said quietly, his accent thickening his words. “Gone off to cool his head, like he always does.”

You just huffed, crossing your arms. “Good. Let him stew all he wants.”

Joel’s gaze flickered, his expression as unreadable as ever. “You know, you sure got a smart mouth on you,” he drawled slowly, each word rolling off his tongue like honeyed molasses. “Always did. But there’s a fine line between standin’ up for yourself and bein’ plain disrespectful.”

You stared at him, taken aback. “Disrespectful?” The word tasted bitter on your tongue. “He’s the one who—”

“—who’s worried ’bout his little girl.” Joel’s voice was steady but firm, cutting through your protest. He took a step forward, his gaze never leaving yours. “Look, darlin’, I know you’re frustrated. And I know he ain’t the easiest man to deal with. But the way you talked to him back there? That’s somethin’ you oughta be ashamed of.”

Heat flared up your neck, your pulse pounding. “I’m not ashamed. He never listens to me, Joel! No matter what I say, it’s like—”

“Don’t matter if he’s listenin’ or not,” Joel interrupted softly, shaking his head. “There’s a right way to talk to your folks, and that wasn’t it.”

You swallowed hard, struggling to hold his gaze. “So, what, you’re on his side now?”

Joel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his brow furrowed like he was tired of this whole conversation. “Ain’t nobody pickin’ sides here. But I’ll tell you this—you sounded like a brat, plain and simple.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, your heart lurching. “A brat?”

“Yeah,” he drawled, the word drawn out and almost lazy. He took another step closer, his gaze sharpening. “Actin’ like you know it all, like you’re too good to hear what he’s got to say. I get it—you’re grown, got your own ideas. But a little respect don’t hurt none.”

Something about the way he was looking at you—like he could see right through the front you were putting up—sent a strange thrill skittering down your spine. You shifted on the bed, your breath catching as he moved even closer, the distance between you shrinking to just a few feet.

“I don’t need a lecture from you,” you murmured, the words lacking their usual bite.

“Maybe not,” Joel agreed softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “But I reckon you need someone to remind you how to mind your manners.”

Your heart pounded hard against your ribs, the room suddenly feeling too small, too hot. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Joel’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Means you’re actin’ like a spoiled little girl who needs to be put in her place. Someone’s gotta teach you how to behave.” You swallowed, pulse racing as you held his gaze, the challenge hanging thick. “And you think you’re the one to do that?”

“Maybe,” he murmured, voice rough. “Guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” There was something dangerous in the way he said it—something that sent your heart and head into a frenzy. You knew you were treading into territory you shouldn’t, but the pull was quietly simmering beneath the surface.

It was hard to ignore how close he was now, standing just a few steps away, his broad frame taking up so much space in the room. You tried to look away to push down the tension that was building, but your body betrayed you. You wanted to deny it, the way your pulse quickened when he spoke to you like that. The way his presence—strong and steady—always made you feel something you weren’t sure how to handle.

“I don’t need you telling me how to behave, Joel,” you muttered, but your voice lacked its usual edge. His lips quirked up, his eyes dark as they held yours. “someone’s gotta.”

Joel was always calm, always collected, but there was something in his voice that you couldn’t shake off, and it only made the knot in your stomach tighten. He took another step toward you, and you could feel the air shift. “You’ve always had a way of pushin’ boundaries, darlin’,” he drawled, his voice tickling you, “but there’s a fine line between speakin’ your mind and actin’ out.”

You bit your lip, unsure if you wanted to push him away or let this go further. You’d always had a thing for him—Joel wasn’t just any man. He was the kind of guy who was steady when everything else wasn’t. Rugged, manly in a way that most men your age couldn’t pull off, and there was something about him that made you feel both safe and completely off-balance at the same time. It was a crush you’d tried to bury, but moments like this made it impossible to forget about it.

Your heart raced in your chest, a wild rhythm that matched the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. Joel had always been a figure of strength, a constant, rugged presence in your life. you’d always admired him from far, always found yourself drawn to him, even when you tried to deny it. That unspoken crush, the way your gaze lingered on him longer than it should, the way your stomach twisted when he called you "darlin’." It had been easy to brush off before to keep it hidden in the safe corners of your mind. But now, those feelings were too close, too raw, spilling over into the silence between.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumbled, but even to your own ears, it sounded weak. Joel’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and before you could pull yourself together, he stepped closer. Close enough now that you could feel the warmth of him, his presence filling the space around you until it felt like you could barely breathe. his smell was suffocating, making your lungs burn.

“I think I know exactly what I’m talkin’ about,” he said, "You do too. And since your daddy didn't teach it to you, it seems like i need to take the brat out of you." His gaze didn’t waver, his words deliberate, each one sinking into your heart like they were meant to. Your breath got stuck as his words settled over you, thick and heavy like a weight you weren’t quite ready for. The air in the room wrapped around your throat like a chain.

His eyes bore into yours, and you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. His presence seemed to swallow everything else—the fight with your dad, the anger simmering in your chest, the stubbornness you wore like armor. Now, it all felt fragile, like glass under pressure. And Joel, standing so close, felt like the force about to shatter it.

A shiver rippled down your back, and you felt disarmed. Your body betrayed you—heat rising in your cheeks, your heartbeat so fast and loud you were sure he could hear it too. You wanted to protest, to say something sharp and cutting, to remind him he wasn’t your father and didn’t get to tell you what to do. But the words got stuck.

There was something in the way he looked at you now—unflinching, steady, like he had all the time in the world to watch you break. You’d never felt so vulnerable, so completely exposed. And yet, beneath that vulnerability, a dangerous thrill settled through you, a pull you couldn’t quite explain. It was wrong, wasn’t it? To feel this way, to let his words, his presence, affect you like this.

But you did let it affect you.

Joel scanned your face as if he was waiting for something—for you to break, to push back, or to surrender. You felt exposed under his gaze

And God, the way he stood there—so solid, so sure of himself. You had never felt smaller, more out of control, and at the same time, more drawn to that feeling of submission. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into the abyss, knowing you shouldn’t jump but feeling the undeniable urge to fall anyway. fall into him.

"So here's how this is gonna go. While your dad is out to cool off 'm gonna teach you some manners, and when he comes back, you'll be good and ready to apologize." His calloused fingertips trace the side of your face. "How's that sound, angel baby?" You wanted to reply, to say something. this all felt like a dream, granted, a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

"Stayin' quiet now won't save your pretty ass, girl." Joel tuts, fingers slowly tangling themselves around your locks, pulling at them to make you look up. it made it hard to think straight. " I'm sorry.." And he chuckles at your words. "Now that's somethin'...so you can apologize." he said, almost mocking you. truthfully, him talking to you this way made all of your thoughts fuzzy, so you were basically on autopilot. the ends of your brows tie in a frown, unable to say anything more.

"Get up." Joel taps the side of your shoulder, his stern tone deafening the ring in your ears. "W-why?" You stammered. he rolls his eyes and tugs lightly on the blouse you had on. "Cause I'm 'bout to teach you a lesson. So you learn that being a brat has consequences. I ain't as soft as your dad."

Slowly, you shifted, pushing yourself off the bed, your legs shaky beneath you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stood in front of him. As soon as you were upright, Joel’s hand released you, settling himself down on the edge of your bed, the place where you'd just been sitting, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The bed dipped under his weight, his broad shoulders taking up more space than they should, and your eyes couldn’t help but linger on him for a second longer than you intended.

"Bend over." You swallowed hard, eyes widening. "Excuse me?" You could believe what he just saidㅡ" Surely you were dreaming. It's like he crawled into the deepest space of your brain and digged in there to find the exact ways to make you fold. "C'mon, i ain't got all day. And your dad is probably coming back soon. So bend over." Joel said whilst patting his thick thighs, signaling you to settle on them. Every part of you was attuned to him—his voice, his movements, the way he looked at you - so you obey.

with shaky movements, you bend over his legs, your behind perked up and back arched. you feel his palm on the small of your back, spreading warmth through your body, before he fully moves it down to pull on the hem of your pants. "Can I take these off, sweetheart?" Your heart trembles, eyes closing as you mutter a soft 'yes'. Joel drags your pants down to your folded knees, along with your underwear, the sudden cold feeling enveloping your skin. "Look so pretty like this, baby." joel leans in, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your spine all the way to your lower back. your body jolts as you try to remain quiet.

with no warning, he pulls his hand back and settles in with a hard smack on your sizzling skin. the harsh hit priks at your skin as it reddens, and you can't help but let out a soft yelp. "Count for daddy." and it takes you off guard, but you comply.

"o-one." joel hum, rubbing that spot before delivering another slap. "Two -" three slaps, then four, then five more, and you turn into a teary, weeping mess. how beautifully you splayed yourself onto the man's lap, each jolt of your body inviting him further in. for him, it was over in seconds, but for you, it felt like an eternity before you heard his voice again.

"Up. And bend over." in no time, you're bent over the edge of the bed, ass up and face flush with the mattress. the cold air hits your exposed cunt and your skin still hurts where he spanked you. He grips your hips, nails digging into your soft flesh, and you can feel his hardon resting between your legs. "This pussy is crying for me, huh?" he's cocky with the way he says it, two of his fingers gathering up the glistening liquid from your puffy lips, then bringing them to your mouth. "Be a doll." he's playing with you, but you? you do as you're told because he has you so drunk on him, in a way you've never felt before. you lick around his digits, tasting yourself and he delivers a proud slap to one of your asscheeks. "You pretty brat." back behind you, he crouches on one knee before drawing a long strip from your sensitive clit to your entrance with his tongue, the same two fingers you had licked, now slipping inside of you.

your back arches as a wave of pleasure breaks over your body like water on a shore. his licks are now concentrated on your bud, fingers quickening their pace as Joel hums at your sweet taste. You moan and writhe, that familiar warm feeling building up inside of you again. but as soon as you were there, he stopped, pulling back to see the shaky, wet mess you were. "P-lease, daddyㅡ"

he tuts, slapping your plush thighs. "You take what I give you. don't get greedy. You're lucky if I'm gonna let you come at all right now. this is supposed to be a lesson." the pain of that sick pleasure envelopes you and you sit with your cunt exposed as you hear Joel fumble the pockets of the pants he had already taken off. 'condoms' he mumbled, as if he knew what you were thinking.

"I'm clean.." You manage a whisper. "And on birth control." he sighs in relief. "Good." You can feel he is less tense now, his presence still behind you. with no warning, he flips you over, back on the bed and ass on the edge of it, that had your legs settle around his hips with ease. "Spread 'em." So you do. you spread your legs as much as you can, giving him a full view. Joel smiles, thumb back to rubbing circles onto your clit. "You're so beautiful." it was so sincere, so sweet you could almost taste it.

his gentle gaze soon got replaced by the hungry one he had all this night whilst staring you down. Finally, he aligns the tip of his shaft with your entrance and slowly pushes the tip in. Your breath got stuck into your throat, from the feeling laden with thornsㅡ Every prick of discomfort is countered by an unexpected surge of delight. Your tears fall down onto the mattress under you, little moans gripping your throat as he slips inside further. "You're okay, baby, you're okay. C'monㅡ" he assures you, asking you to surrender. "Take it all- theere we go.." Joel praises, lifting your hips a bit to get a better angle. He moves gently, each stroke hitting deeper within your core, the pain soon converging with ecstasy right as he alerts his movements.

you wrap your legs around him loosely but he takes you by your ankles and almost folds them over your stomach, providing him a better position to pound straight into you, hitting that sweet spot on and on. his hips dive down, one of his palms snaking up and wrapping itself tightly around your throat. your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, baby, knew you could take it. Now you gotta apologize for being a little brat." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each timeㅡ your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made wrapped around Joel.

"C'mon baby, say it, say what i wanna hearㅡ fuck." he hammered deep into you, the trinkets from your bedside table clinking soft melodies, as Joel held you by your hips. "I'm s-orry, daddy! I'm so sorryㅡ" you sob, trying your best to be coherent. "That's it, good girl, good fucking girl."

Feeling you tightening, the hand that was around your throat slips down to your clit, while the other makes you spread your legs wide again for easier access, giving you a chance to take in a big gasp of air. "want me to breed this pussy, huh? fill you up with my babies? maybe then youll learn to behaveㅡ shit!" the room spins around you, body floating as if ready to plummet back down, you try your best to reply. "yes, yes- please, please, daddy, I'm sorryㅡ"

"Dirty fuckin' girl. Go ahead, 'f daddy." the man succeeded to say, between his breathy groans. "Thank you, thank you, oh god, thank you so much daddy!" you say as if praying to him whilst he keeps fucking into you. he pounds into you as you come down from your high, your body almost too limp to register your surroundings. he slap your thigh, strong grips now onto your breasts as he comes ropes inside of you, then he pulls his length out of your pulsing walls, some come landing on your stomach.

and for a moment there was silence. this really just happened. joel pulls out and watches intently as his seed drips out of you, your body beautifully splayed out right under him. You squeeze around nothing, licking your lips, as you feel the warm trickles of come dripping from your stomach to your chest due to your position. you're both quiet for a bit, catching your breaths, as he scoots you better on the bed. "shit, babyㅡ look at that. so pretty." he smiles kissing your shoulders, "so pretty like this, f' me."

"I'm sorry for being a brat.."

" 's fine, baby. if you're too good i won't have any reason to punish you anymore. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

you wouldn't, indeed.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel #pedro pascal x you

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poppy-metal · 3 months ago

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playing truth or dare with art and patrick and it ends with patrick daring you to suck arts cock - art is scandalized and patrick is grinning and you..... well. a dares a dare - and you and patrick have always had a competitive streak. he may have suggested it because he knows both you and art are more reserved than he is, but you suprise them both when you swallow and say, "okay," and then turn to art with big wide eyes - "is it okay if I do it?"

they both gape at you - art splutters - you're all tipsy, and all a little horny from patricks earlier dare of asking you to take your shirt and shorts off - leaving you in just a bralett and panties. they've both been serepticiously stealing glances at your stiff nipples peaking through the sheer fabric throughout the night.

art hovers his hand over his crotch - flits his gaze to patrick who looks at him like 'what the fuck' and glances back to you - cheeks pink. "um. you don't have -"

"you don't have to." patrick cuts in, clearing his throat. his cheeks are flushed too. his blush more fuscia than arts bubblegum pink. he adjusts himself in his shorts. "I was being a dick."

and maybe its the alcohol making you suddenly so brazen - but something about this - this night, this scenario, this weird fucking symbiotic friendship you have going on with these two - and them with eachother - you're horny and worked up and not wanting to back down.

so you shrug and say, "that's fine if art doesn't want me to. but don't say it's because I backed out of the dare - you guys are the ones who pussied out, not me."

silence. you feel both of their eyes on you and you know if it weren't for the buzz of alcohol you'd been twisted up in knots under their gazes. flushed and squirming.

art says, quietly - "you want to?"

you look at him - he's so pretty. angelic. soft blonde curls and blue eyes. gentle demeanor that hides a hidden nastier side you've seen glimpses of. one of your closest friends and the other half of your constant masturbatory fantasies. always with your best intrest at heart, almost annoyingly chivalrous, annoying in that it makes your cunt throb constantly.

do you want to? he'd be better off asking a dog if it wanted a treat.

you shrug - playing it cool for now. smile at him.

"I want to win my dare."

you glance at patrick then, "unless you're retracting it? accepting your loss?"

he closes his mouth which had been comically parted in shock - visibly swallowing. you watch his adams apple bob and think about all the times you've seen him toss his head back to drain a water bottle during or after a match, how many times you've watched his throat work - watched him in general really.

he was the moon to arts sun - the dark to his light - where art was prince charming wrapped up in thorns, patrick was big bad wolf trying to blow down your house. he made you hate him almost as much as he made you want him. one moment kicking his shin under a table for eating like a pig, and in the next breath having your clit pulse when he grinned salaciously at you and sucked sauce off his finger.

you almost wish he'd dared you to suck his cock - if you weren't equally as eager to get your mouth around art.

he tries to play it casual like you, but you can see the tent in his shorts - leaning back to brush a hand through his thick hair, which does nothing but flop back forward across his forehead - "a dares a dare. if art doesn't wanna bitch out then go for it." his green eyes flash, "I triple dog you."

"well now I have to do it," you tease. look back to art.

he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth - his fingers idling by the buttons on his shorts. hiding your prize from you - you can feel your mouth pool with saliva and swallow, attempting not to drool. not yet.

"I dont know how I feel about being used as a sexual prop," he mumbles, but his voice is shaky and light - clearly trying to make a joke and you grin, getting on your hands and knees, so your panty clad ass is facing patrick as you crawl forward towards art like a predator stalking its prey.

"then take your hand off your cock, donaldson," you purr. he flushes up to his ears and puts both hands by his sides, leaning back on them as you approach slowly. "besides, we all know that's not true. you probably love the idea of being a prop."

he licks his lips - darting his eyes behind you to meet patricks. some secret communication - you hear patrick say, "c'mon. s'just a game - " low and deep, in a way that is very much not just a game. not to any of you.

art breathes out - looks back to meet your eyes and then extends his legs out, spreading them for you - you can see the very prominent bulge of his cock.

he nods. "alright." he says, "I guess we're doing this. shit - " you make it all the way between his legs, your eyes never leaving his as you deliberately lower your chest to the ground, ass up, until you're level with his clothed crotch.

you hear patricks sharp intake of breath from behind you - know hes getting and eye full of your ass, more than he's ever seen of it - your panties sliding into the crevice of your ass, exposing your round cheeks to him, and under that - the outline of your cunt through the thin fabric barely covering it. you imagine the dark look in his eye, him reaching down to palm his cock. it makes your pussy clench.

you look up at art sweetly, palms sliding up his thighs until you reach the buttons on his shorts - he blinks long blonde lashes down at you in awe. swallows and then says, "you're r - really pretty." and it's such an art thing to say, at a moment like this - with patrick to watch you shatter the boundaries of your already precarious friendship - probably jerk off while he does - you just think -

I'm going to suck the soul outta this boys dick in such a disrespectful, sloppy manner it will make both him and patrick look at me different.

#poppy speaks #artrick x reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader

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zhonglicious · 11 months ago

Text

pairing: bully!ran haitani x fem!reader x bully!rindou haitani

cw: 1.5k

cw: dark content (if you dont like, keep scrolling. please.), college au, fem!reader, virgin!reader, bully!rindou haitani, bully!ran haitani, non-con/dub-con, bullying, non-consensual filming, sexual harassment, blackmail, blowjobs, humiliation, fingering, creampie, lmk if i forgot any!

thinking of bullies!ran and rindou :(( they're both so mean, insisting on making your life a living hell >:((

they're both fucking assholes. they do all the typical cliche bullying you see in movies. they steal your stuff, they laugh and humiliate you. and no one ever calls them out on it or even attempts to, because they're the haitanis, and they always have their way.

rindou is actually the "nicer" one. he makes you do something then leaves you alone for a few days. you prefer dealing with him, because he isn't as mean as ran is. the worst he's had you do is take all of his schoolwork, and make you do them instead. makes you do them in his lap, his fingers flipping up your skirt and caressing your thighs. when you wriggle, he just huffs and slaps the skin. so he isn't as bad, as long as you do what he wants you to.

but ran. ran haitani, the older brother, is an absolute fucking bag of dicks >:(( while rindou lets you breathe, ran absolutely does not. he is so mean. makes you run errands for him, from getting rid of items that could get him expelled, to the most mundane task of getting him a drink. but then he hums and stands up, only to pour the ice cold water on your head. laughs as the liquid seeps into your white button up, enough of it drenching the material to expose your bra underneath. sends you away with a smile on his face, downing whatever remained in the glass.

but then it gets worse :(( one day ran grabs you and drags you to his dorm room. locks the door behind him as he pushes you inside. sits down on a chair and tells you to kneel in front of his spread legs. and you can already see the obvious bulge straining against his pants as he hums and fishes his phone out of his pocket. when you try to protest, he tuts, phone in one hand as he unbuckles his belt with the other.

"this is the last thing i'll make you do. if you suck me off and make me cum, i'll leave you alone." the grin that stretches his lips is cheshire, and you can't tell if he's lying or not. but still, the words make hope blossom in your chest, so you ask meekly, "you swear?" and ran's grin grows even wider as he croons his answer "i swear."

so ran throws his belt on the bed and unbuttons his pants as you straighten your back and scoot closer, small fingers hesitantly dragging down the zipper and taking his already hard cock out of his boxers. he's big, your fingers barely wrapping around his base as you stare wide-eyed. the chuckle above you makes your head snap up, and you see hooded lavender eyes staring down at you in amusement.

"never had someone this big before?" he raises an eyebrow, and you look away. so you don't notice the way both of his eyebrows rise when you admit you've never done this before, his dick twitching in your hands. his pupils are blown wide as he cards his fingers through your hair and yanks your face closer to him, the tip just barely grazing your bottom lip. coos at you "well then you should be thanking me for letting you get some experience."

and when you hesitate, his voice grows deeper and more authoritative as he tugs at your hair again. his cock presses against your cheek and smears pre-cum as he says "suck." so you do, hesitantly taking the head in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. you may be inexperienced, but you have seen some porn, at least. and the answering satisfied sigh above you is a good indication, so you keep going.

you can't take him all the way in, so you use both hands to jerk what you can't reach. "mhmm, just like that," ran hums above you, legs opening wider to give you more room. and you feel sick, because the sound makes your core throb, makes your legs squeeze together from where you're kneeling.

after a while, you hear a breathless "fuck, i'm gonna cum-" and instinctively, you lift your gaze and...

see the camera of ran's phone gazing back at you.

alarmed, you try to pull off him but ran isn't having it. with the hand still in your hair, he pushes you down further on him, moaning at the way you gag around his length, hips jerking as he shoots his cum down your throat. then when he's done, he laughs and tucks himself back in his pants and shows you the video in his camera roll. "but you said-" "god, you really are stupid, aren't you? i lied, sweetheart." so now you have to do everything he asks unless you want the video to spread around the campus :((

he makes you do "favors" for him, worse than what he already has you do before.

a few days later, ran has you in his lap in his dorm room. this is one of the "favors" he's asked of you. well, more like showed you the video and threatened to send it to people in campus. so now he has you in his lap, middle and ring buried in your cunt, all while his phone records everything from the table :((

whenever you say stop, ran just clicks his tongue and goes faster, fingers curling against your sweet spot so quickly it has you seeing stars, even as you keep sobbing for him to let you go. now, here's the thing. you've been so busy dealing with ran's "favors" that you've neglected to realize rin hasn't been messing with you lately!

so when rin uses his key to walk into their shared dorm room, you practically jolt remembering the existence of the younger brother. but rin has always been the nicer brother! so you beg for him to help you, all while the smile on ran's face shifts into a grin because he knows what rindou's answer is gonna be.

rin who smirks at you and says "no." relishes in the despaired noise you make, tapering off into a whine as ran's palm brushes against your clit. he shuts the door behind him and chucks his bag onto his bed. rin who pulls ran's fingers out of you, manhandling you onto his bed and grinning at you like "ran's had his fun with you, but i haven't. i think it's my turn now."

rindou clicks his tongue at how you struggle against him, so he grabs your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, while the other guides his cock to your already wet entrance. the tip teases at the tight ring of muscle, and you whimper weakly. "please stop-" you sob, and rindou gives you an unimpressed look before he pushes himself in. you gasp just as he hisses, the warmth of your walls around the head feeling heavenly.

he pushes himself the rest of the way in, ignoring your protests. "telling me to stop when your cunt's squeezing me so tight. fuck- can't believe ran hasn't fucked you yet." he grunts, giving you no time to adjust before he's slamming into you in an unforgiving pace. while you moan "stop" repeatedly, mind hazy at the way he fills you up, ran chuckles and retrieves his phone, already recording the way rindou fucks into you.

"mm, i wanted you to have your fun first, rindou <3" ran hums, the phone recording as you cry and throw your head back onto the pillows. rindou snickers at this, tapering off into a moan as your cunt squeezes around him. "damn, can't wait for you to fuck her. so fucking good, fuck-" he groans.

"rindou- rin-" you sob, your hips twitching as moans and whimpers fall out of your mouth from how the tip of rindou's cock keeps jabbing against your g-spot. the stretch of his cock burns but it also feels so so good, so all you can do is babble mindlessly as your orgasm creeps up on you.

rindou isn't faring any better either, breathing heavily as his thrusts get sloppier, faster as his thumb finds purchase on your clit. "shit, i'm gonna cum," he moans breathlessly, furiously rubbing your sensitive nub, and causing that tight coil of pleasure to snap. rindou gasps at the way your cunt flutters around him, thrusting one, two, three more times before he's cumming, curses falling from his lips as he paints your walls white. and ran films it all, cock straining against his jeans.

ran who walks over to get a close up of your cunt dripping out rindou's cum as he pulls out. even as rin lets go of your wrists, you don't have it in you to struggle, so you just moan weakly as ran uses his fingers to collect the cum that drips out of you, pushing it back in. well, that's just another thing he can add to his folder of you <3

#reupload bc it hasnt been showing up in tags grr #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #ran haitani x reader #ran x reader #ran haitani smut #ran smut #rindou haitani x reader #rindo haitani x reader #rindou x reader #rindo x reader #rindou haitani smut #rindo haitani smut #rindou smut #rindo smut

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seung-mong · 4 months ago

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got it - han jisung

includes: fwb! idol han jisung x reader, semi-public bathroom sex, fwb to lovers, possessive han, lots of praise, han is rough but also so so weak for you, poor, sweet mark

dedicated to @yzsqu :))

wc: 4k

horndog - DO NOT REPLY

~baby

~u up?

of course i'm up han jisung- it's fucking 7 in the evening. you're beyond tempted to reply, but you dont. you know what you replying means to him. instead, you let your phone drop to your mattress, turning over and hugging your pillows up to your chest.

han jisung has been your... well... 'friend' for the better half of the year now, constantly asking you to "hang out" at his place. and he's been a good friend, truly! as good a friend can be when they've got their dick shoved down your throat.

it's not like that's how the friendship started, obviously not. you met when you guys were still children, attending the same school as everyone else in his idol group. you were sincerely good friends, you often opened up to him about your worries and problems, and he would always be there to comfort you and take you out for a night of food, drinks, and throwing up behind the dumpsters of random clubs while he held your hair up.

but one night, you had too many drinks. you were too vulnerable, and his hands just felt too fucking good running up and down your sides. and yes, you're guilty for initiating it. he was simply comforting you while you vented about work. next thing he knew, you were climbing onto his lap and leaving hickeys down his neck. how could he say no to you?

and you thought it could lead to something more- but han just wasn't ready for a relationship with his busy schedule as an idol, too afraid of how the public would react to him coming out with a relationship. and you were not comfortable with being a casual fuck. for a while.

who can blame you? his dick just fills you up so good every single time, has your toes curling and back arching as you scream his name into his pillows. you'd swear up and down that each time would be the last, but he would hit you up with a lame "r u free tonight?" and you'd be on your way to his apartment in a fucking flash.

but the feelings never went away. you started to fall in love with him, and curse you and your heart for falling for him. but how could you not? how could you resist when he'd flash you his stupid smile after fucking your brains out, panting and chest heaving as he lay on the space beside you. and it's not like after a session he'd make you leave, no. he'd open his arms and whine until you gave into him, cuddling into his sweaty side. who could expect you not to fall in love with his eye smiles and quick kisses on your cheek?

"you're kidding me." felix whines from behind you, shoulder resting on your doorframe. you sit up with a groan, turning your head to meet his gaze with a frown plastered on his face.

"hi lix." you mumble, patting the space on the bed beside you, but he shakes his head.

"y/n. it's seven in the evening. on a saturday! you should come out with us, c'mon." he pleads, walking over to your side of the bed and pulling on your arm. you realize he's dressed up, black formal pants and a white button up.

"where you going?" you yawn, letting him pull you out of bed.

"the launch of minho's restaurant? remember? come with us, it'll be fun." he begs, pulling you until you're fully standing, your silk shorts and tank top sticking to your skin as sleep lines decorated your bare arms. he walks over to your closet, throwing the cabinet doors open and surveying your clothes.

"but it's gonna be full of idols and i'll feel so left out and-"

"for minho?" felix pouts, making you roll your eyes.

"what's the theme of your outfit today?" you ask, playfully shoving him to the side.

felix scoffs from beside you, elbowing you. "everyone's gonna be wearing formal."

"formal?" you whine, looking through your brightly covered club dresses and pushing them to the side. "what's the color palette?"

felix hums, glad that you're on board. "pretty neutral tones."

you groan, taking out the different dresses you had which fit the category.

"come on, minho's super proud and he wants everyone to look their best. besides, the restaurant's pretty classy anyways." felix eyes the nude bodycon dress that you hold up in front of you, raising an eyebrow.

"and a blazer, it's cold out." felix advises, sitting down on your bed.

"fine. but only because there's free food and wine. and i love minho." you roll your eyes taking the dress with you to the bathroom to get ready.

"what other reason would there be?" felix mutters under his breath as you close the door behind you.

you're immediately glad you came. minho is positively beaming, answering all the questions journalists throw at him with a cheeky smile and a playful wink. you stuck beside felix and chan's side the whole night, overwhelmed by all the famous idols that popped in and out of the establishment. you're grateful you took felix' advices to dress up, majority of the idols dressed in flashy dresses and fashionable outfits. you're one of the few non-idol friends, and at some point you feel left out when they're all talking about their hectic schedules.

you don't let it get to you, though. you didn't want to spoil minho's night! you stand at the back of the room with a glass of wine in your hand, taking too many sips in a short amount of time and making you slightly buzzy.

"you a friend of minho's?" a voice calls out from beside you and you nearly choke on your wine when you turn to see who's started a conversation with you. fuck. of course it had to be that annoyingly attractive idol from nct.

"yea," you weakly choke, turning to face him.

mark lifts an eyebrow when you sputter, but he chuckles good-naturedly to avoid this encounter from becoming awkward.

"not an idol?" he asks, leaning against the post next to him and now you're starting to wonder why the hell he's starting a conversation with you when twice is literally standing a few feet away from you, chattering loudly with chan.

"nope, just a childhood friend. and roomate." you laugh, wishing you hadn't taken your blazer off when you stepped into the restaurant because you're standing right under a vent and you're shivering but you don't want to put your blazer on because it's such a huge movement and you want to stay as still as possible.

"oh? never thought about taking that career path?" he raises an eyebrow teasingly, raising the glass of wine in his hand to his lips.

"does it look like i can dance?" you joke, and to your relief mark laughs.

"oh come on, i'm sure you dance great." mark shakes his head, brown eyes so intensely set on yours.

"nah, i have two left feet." you lean your shoulder on the wall behind you, closing the distance between you and the slightly tipsy idol.

"oh? maybe i should see it for myself." his voice trails off into something much more suggestive, and you raise an eyebrow.

"are you asking me out to dance... or are you asking me to audition for sm in front of you right now?"

mark throws his head back and lets out a deep laugh, making you blush when a few people turn their heads in your direction. you bow sheepishly, a little giggle escaping your lips.

"and if it's the latter?" he raises his glass to his lips, eyes still on you.

you shrug. "sorry, more of a jyp gal myself."

he laughs, and you think it's a sound you could get used to.

"damn, you're really-" mark starts, wiping the tears from his eyes away with the back of his hand.

"y/n?" a harsh voice interrupts him, both of your heads turning towards the owner of the voice.

fuck. and felix said he couldn't make it.

"well change of plans, hyung. im on my way!" han yells through his phone, trailing behind his manager as they push past the strangers crowding around minho's restaurant.

"you said you had to do 'a thing.'" minho accuses him, setting his glass of wine down on the table in front of him.

"yea, yea." han huffs, finally getting past security and shrugging his coat off with a huff. how's it his fault he's late when you're the one who wouldn't reply to his messages asking you to be his date? he hangs up, mumbling a small 'thank you' to the person who offers him a glass of wine. he smiles when he sees the rest of his group in the same table at the very center of the restaurant, politely bowing when he crosses paths with his seniors and juniors who decided to show support to the owner.

"hyung, congrats!" han hugs minho excitedly, patting his back.

"you said you couldn't make it!" minho beams, pulling a chair up for the younger.

"yea, was supposed to bring a date. but uh, she couldn't make it." han shakes his head, surveying the restaurant. "damn, there's a lot of people, huh?"

"yup! go! go mingle with the others for the night." minho winks at him as he walks away, being pulled into conversations.

han smiles as he watches minho mingle with the crowd, genuinely proud of all that he's achieved.

"y/n's here." felix informs him, patting his back and pointing him in your direction.

"oh?" he stands up, eager to see you. and met with the sight of you and mark getting a little too close for his liking.

he walks up to you, anger bubbling in his chest. he messaged you, and you didn't reply. he was gonna ask you to be his date tonight and you didn't respond. but here you were, flirting with mark.

"han." you choke, standing up straight and averting his gaze as if he'd caught you red handed doing something illegal.

"oh hey, han jisung! you're the group's rapper right? damn bro i got to say i'm such a huge-" mark walks forward, holding his hand up and reaching for a handshake.

"y/n. let's go." he steps forward to you and grabs your hand in his, squeezing tightly.

"excuse me? i'm not going anywhere with you." you scoff, removing your hand from his hold.

you look at mark apologetically, who is genuinely confused by the scene unraveling in front of him.

"oh, i- im sorry is there something like- between you two.." mark takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender.

"no."

"yes."

you look at han incredulously, scoffing at his answer. "yes? really? since when."

"don't- put on a show baby. say bye bye to your friend."

you blink back at him, thrown off by the firmness in his voice. you open your mouth to retort, but he silences you with the raise of an eyebrow.

"bye, mark." you huff, bowing apologetically.

mark is obviously confused, stuttering out a goodbye and walking back to his group of friends with wide eyes. fuck. you just know mark will have so much fun telling his little buddies from nct about the absolutely pleasant encounter he had with han jisung.

han drags you around the room, settling his glass of wine on an empty table and pulling you behind him. you're beyond embarrassed, apologizing profusely when you bump into several idols, all of whom you liked. you could feel the heat spread across your cheeks and down your neck when they looked at you curiously. you downed the remaining contents of wine in your glass in one go before placing it on a tray held by a passing waiter.

"han." you hissed, trying to pull your hand away. but he doesn't budge, pushing you into the empty bathroom, checking to see if anyone is watching before locking the door behind him.

your breathing is deep and ragged, your blood rising to your cheeks and bubbling in anger.

"what the hell was that?" you hissed.

"i should be the one asking you that." han's voice is low, accusing you.

you scoff, in disbelief. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"you blew me off this afternoon and when i finally get to see you, you're flirting with mark lee." he hisses, face going red with anger.

"and so what?" your voice is getting louder now and you take a step closer to him. "and don't say i blew you off as if we made plans, you and i both know you were just messaging me so you could get your dick wet."

"that's- that's not true." he falters, and for a second he sounds pained. "and- and what do you mean 'so what?' are you just going around flirting with idols now? is that how it is? talking and sleeping around?"

you laugh manically, the anger coming out of you and radiating in waves. "that's just so fucking cheap, han. you're talking as if i had my fucking hand down his pants! and what's it to you who i'm sleeping with anyway? i could choose to fuck all 23 of them and it still shouldn't matter to you."

"yea? well it does!" and for the first time he's yelling at you, brows furrowed and tie swinging wildly as he steps up to you, hands balled into fists.

"the hell are you fucking talking-" you move forward to shove him backwards, only for his hands to catch your wrists, pulling you closer so you stumble forward, and his lips catch yours in a heated kiss. but you're still angry, and you bite down on his lower lip. you pull away, pushing him away by his shoulders. "what the hell?" you breathe, wiping away the spit on your bottom lip with the back of your hand.

"it- it matters to me, okay?" he sighs, exasperated.

"what are you talking about?" you laugh hollowly, shaking your head at him.

"i- you- you know i'm not good at this!" he groans, opting you to pull you closer to him by your wrist all over again, hand resting on your jaw and hastily placing his lips on yours to shut you up.

you soften a little, because you do know. you know han's never been one to open up too much, too insecure about his own emotions to ever determine how he's actually feeling. but that's the exact reason he keeps wanting to fuck you, every roll of his hips a hint to just how much he likes you (how romantic).

but you're a sucker for han jisung.

you let him push you nearer to the sink, rough hands grabbing at your ass and trying desperately to roll your dress up. you quickly remove his suit jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and onto the floor. he doesn't seem to care, too busy bunching your dress up by your waist and groaning against your mouth. his kisses are sloppy and messy, tongue probing in and out of your mouth but god you're drunk on him, taking everything he has to give with grace.

when he finally has your dress hiked up, he takes a moment to break away from the kiss and look down, fingers dipping into the waistline of your underwear.

"fuck, you're soaked aren't you?" he groans, pulling the waistband back and letting it snap against your skin. you yelp, cheeks turning red from the lewd words he whispers against your ear.

he moves to undo his tie and and you shake your head frantically, hands reaching up to stop him. "keep it on," you mumble, lifting yourself up on the sink and puling him closer by the fabric.

"fuck you'll be the death of me." he slots himself in between your legs, which wrap around his hips and pull him closer. his bulge rubs just against your clit, and you whine in his ear.

"hurry and fuck me, please." you whine, rolling your hips upwards and trying to get as much friction as you can from his slacks. he tuts at you, pulling you nearer to the edge by your hips and leaning down to plant a messy kiss on your neck.

"i'll mark you up, then everyone gets to see you're mine." he groans against your neck, grinding you harder against his bulge. "then no one gets to fucking touch you after, right baby?"

you nod, delirious and high on lust and alcohol. "gimme it." you mumble incoherently, undoing han's pants and blindly fishing for his cock.

han chuckles condescendingly at your enthusiasm, hands gripping your hips and squeezing once his cock swings free from his pants.

"put it in." han orders, growing harder by the minute when he sees your hands wrapped around his shaft. you don't hesitate to comply, shimmying your underwear down until it falls down to hang on your ankles. han quickly grabs the fabric and stuffs it into his back pocket. you guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, shimmying closer to him until your chest is pressed against his.

"fuck. good girl." han rasps, lifting your hips slightly as he buries himself deep into your cunt.

you whimper at the praise, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pulls back, only for him to slam harder into you. you let out a moan at the impact, throwing your head back until it hits the mirror behind you. han leads forward, his pace unrelenting as his hands squeeze the side of your thighs. he rests his head in the crook of your neck, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he groans against your chest.

you cant help the sounds that escape your mouth, trying desperately to keep your sounds to a minimum, because what would all the people outside think?

"oh come on baby, i wanna hear you. know i love it when you moan my name." han chuckles against your neck, before biting down and sucking a dark mark onto the skin.

"h-han." you whine, hands curling into fists against the fabric of his blouse. his fingers dig harder against your hips, so much it almost sings. you bite your lower lip to keep the embarrassing sounds from flooding out, much to han's disappointment.

"no, no, baby. this just won't do." he sighs dramatically, one hand reaching behind you and hooking onto the sink as leverage to pound into you harder. you gasp at the feeling of the tip of his cock driving deliciously into you, hands clutching onto his shoulders for dear life.

he's fucking you too good, his hips snapping into you too harshly, you can't possibly keep your mouth shut. every whine and whimper that leaves your mouth sends a shiver down han's spine, and he uses it as motivation to fuck you harder.

"tell me you're mine." han commands, fingers pinching painfully into your thigh.

"m-m'yours hannie." you whine sweetly, eyes closing at the pleasure his hips bring you.

"apologize for being a slut and flirting with that joke from nct." he seethes, so close to cumming when you squeeze around him.

"fuck!" you hiccup, almost falling back if not for han's stable hold around your waist. "i- in sorry for flirting with mark."

"good girl. you gonna cum baby?" han teases, bringing a hand up to your cheek and lightly slapping you to catch your attention.

"yes, please?" you beg, desperate for your release. but your body is conditioned to han's favor, body only cumming when you hear the words come out of his mouth.

"do you deserve it after today?" han smirks mischievously, a drop of sweat dripping down his neck and onto the collar of his shirt. honestly, han's been dying to cum since he first entered you, only holding out for your pleasure.

"yes, please, han! i said m'sorry i'm sorry, please? i'll be good, promise." you babble incoherently, too fucked dumb to have an ounce of pride.

"you're only mine, got it? cum for me, baby" han whispers, smirking at the immediate response he gets from your body. your hold on his shirt tightening as your cunt flutters around him, your eyes closing and a silent scream escaping your open mouth.

the sight alone is too much for han, who thrusts once, twice and cums deep in you, a strangled groan leaving his lips that is muffled against your shoulder. you feel his cum slowly drip down the side of your inner thigh, but you're too tired to care. you pant heavily against each other, trying to catch your breaths. you feel han pull out of you, more of his liquid oozing out of you. you hiss at the loss of contact, wincing at the thought of being sore tomorrow.

"don't move." han mumbles, grabbing a handful of tissues from the dispenser and reaching behind you to dampen it with a bit of water. slowly, he nudges apart your thighs, wiping away the mess in between your legs.

"thank you." you mumble awkwardly, shimmying down the counter and pulling your underwear up.

you're used to this by now, knowing without even looking at han that he wants you to go out first, like always. you push past him as you reach for the door but han stops you, pinning you back to the counter with his hips.

"again?" you groan, but han shakes his head.

"stay for a bit." he sighs, hands finding purchase at your waist as his thumbs rub circles against your sides.

"but everyone's probably looking for you." you argue, pressing your hands against his chest.

"i don't care." his tone catches you off guard, and you stay rooted to your spot.

"hannie-"

"y/n, please don't flirt with him." his voice is barely above a whisper, but you catch his words nonetheless.

"with mark?" is he still pissed about that?

"with anyone." he clarifies, pressing his forehead against yours. "anyone that isn't me."

you sigh, tired of being held back by rules that would normally stand in a relationship, without eve being in one. "han, i can't keep being your little fuck buddy, it's tiring." and painful.

"i know." han sighs, eyes closing as he inhales your sickeningly sweet scent. "i'm just - i dont want to date you and be bad at it." he suddenly confesses, a pout on his lips as his lower lip juts out.

your heart twists at that, and you place a hand on his cheek in reassurance. he leans into your touch, afraid of opening his eyes.

"baby, you'll never know if you don't try. we'll take it step by step. slow and steady." you know its a weak attempt, but it seems to put han at ease when he straightens up and wraps his arms around your waist.

"does that mean you won't flirt with mark anymore?" he whispers, and you can't help but giggle.

"i won't."

he's silent for a while, a naughty smirk painted across his lips.

"you're mine now, got it?"

you giggle, planting a kiss on his cheek. "got it."

taglist: @pochamin22 @bee123sthings @ohnocent @hyunchannie017 @r1n4 @heluvschibi @kpop-obsessed-all-the-time @elizalabs3 @uknowme-not @bee123sthings @n034sy

#seung mong!#skz #skz smut #skz fanfic #ask seung mong anything!#han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #stray kids x reader

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mysicklove · 1 year ago

Text

𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓'𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖!

cw: sub! denki kaminari, gn! reader, toy use: bullet vibrator, nipple clamps, fleshlight. kinda heavy bondage (he is tied to chair lol), sadistic reader!!, denki being the biggest dork at the end, unedited (for now?) and POORLY WRITTEN lolol

wc: 1.8k

a/n: well @sorrowfulrosebud this was supposed to be a drabble. oopsies. everyone dont yell at me for writing this instead of kinktober IM SORRY. ALSO denki is a little silly at the end, I hope it doesn't ruin the mood for you guys :/ he is just such a nerd to me.

“No. No. Nonononono!” The blonde squeals, squirming in his chair. His legs try to kick up, causing his thighs to pull at the restraints.

You frown at him but ignore his plea, snapping the nipple clams onto the first nipple. He jumps in his chair and he lets out a yelp, muffling the sounds of the vibrator. “Don’t “no” me, you were the one to beg for this.”

In an instant, Denki’s face shifts into a wicked grin, and you roll your eyes. “You know I like to put on a show,” he purrs, “makes it more kinky, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, yeah, you sick pervert.” You use the remote to turn up the vibrator logged inside him a setting higher, and the blonde gulps, letting about a small mewl. Then, you clamp the metal onto his other nipple, forcing another pained noise out from his mouth.

“Ow! Ow!” He screeches, twisting from left to right in his red rope bindings. “It still hurts! Y-You got to be gentle with me!”

You reach for his thigh, giving him a teasing slap. “Quit that. Gentle with you? You would throw a hissy fit if I was.”

He remains quiet at that, agreeing with you, and the action makes you grin. You grab the fleshlight and begin to pour a copious amount of lube onto it while Denki squirms in his chair, excited for what’s to come. The bullet vibrator placed meticulously on his prostate was sending his head spinning, but to add something around his cock too? He was already daydreaming about how hard he is about to orgasm.

In one quick motion, you slide the entire thing down his length. His reaction is immediate; his back arches and he let out a moan. “There ya go,” You hum, “You like that, don't you baby?”

You don’t ease into it, knowing he will complain if you do. So, instead you set a ruthless pace and Kamari already feels himself begin to drool. His eyes roll back and he begins to hump into the toy, not caring that his hips were basically strapped down into the chair. “Y-Yeah. Can you…Vibrator?”

You smile at the boy, nodding to him before reaching over and clicking the button onto the highest setting. He groans out, a lazy smile plastered on his face. “Fuck yeah. Fuck, this is heaven, ‘s got to be.”

You scoff at him, trying not to roll your eyes. He was always the dramatic type, trying to find the most creative ways to show his love for what you do to him. It was cute though, so you didn’t mind too much.

His hips continue to buck into the fleshlight, and his ass lifts slightly up the chair, going against the binds to try and reach it better. The vibrator in him makes a loud buzzing noise and every once in awhile he stops his desperate humping to try and push back into it.

The noises he let's out are loud, high in pitch, as if he was trying to tell everyone around him how good he was feeling. It makes you wonder if you want to put a gag on him, but be always gets so pouty after you do, and you didn't know if you want to deal with that. So, you let the neighbors hear his cries — it was better than the annoying sound of the vibrator, to you and Denki at least.

Eventually his hips start to thrust up too high, and the rope begins to rub against his thigh. He was going to hurt himself at this rate, and that's the last thing you guys needed. You rest your hands on his thigh, pushing him down against the chair. “Kaminari, relax, it's not going anywhere. You don't gotta chase the toy.”

He shakes his head, continuing to try and buck upward. His eyes are furrowed shut and his face is contorted in a frown. “Can't help it. Love it, s-so much!”

You yank the toy away and Denki lets out a noise akin to a puppy yelping in pain, which causes you to roll your eyes. “No. Please no! I'm sorry I'm sorry ill relax. Don't take it away, I can't cum without it! I'll be good, a good boy for you I promise!”

Your face heats up at his lewd words and you pause for a second. His cock twitches from the coolness of the air, and you watch as a glob of pre drops onto the chair. He whines, and squirms in his confinement.

Then, you gulp and sigh, rubbing your hands on his thighs that are trying their best to stay planted on the chair. “It's alright, I'm not stopping,” you murmur, sliding the fleshlight onto his cock with a satisfying squelch. He cries out, and the noise loudness of the sound startled you. Your eyes flicker to his now glassy ones. “Fuck, Kaminari, you sound straight up out of a bad porno, you know that?” You say, breathless, and fixed solely on his face.

Sweat beads at his temples, and his lip trembles. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head back and forth. The pale legs tremble in his seat but he doesn't buck upward, instead waiting for you to cover his cock. It's agonizing to him, and he wants nothing more than to fuck it, but he remains seated, instead choosing to push himself back into the bullet vibrator.

Your hands reach up to play with the chain and Kaminari let’s out a hiss, but doesn’t oppose it. The nipples have become slightly swollen from the clamp, and it causes you to frown. “Poor thing, look how red they are.”

A meek grin pulls at his face. “Y-You like it though, yeah?”

“I do. They are so cute like this,” You nod, slightly pulling on the metal, and tearing another whimper from his mouth. Your hand continues their quick motions and his moans begin to get louder. His hips begin to buck up again.

“Kaminari,” You warn sharply and he immediately presses his ass back into the chair with a short apology. You place your hand onto his face, your own apology, but for the harshness of your tone. He nuzzles into it, rubbing his cheek into your palm. “Good boy.”

He nods his head, buzzing at the praise. Drool begins to bead at the corner of his lips, and his eyes begin to get cloudy. He finds himself chanting out curse words and melting into the chair. With every stroke of the toy, every sound of the liquid gliding across his dick, he feels himself inch toward his high. The blonde's hands clench and unclench, and he mewls. “I need to cum. P-Please?”

The vibrator continues to target his sweet spot and it sends him shivering, not knowing if he should focus on the buzzing sensation or the one wrapped around his cock. But, you pull on the chain again, answering his question for him. His back arches and he cries out from the pain of his nipples being tugged uncomfortably outward.

“Yeah? That was quick, little embarrassing, don’t you think babe?”

He pouts at you, and tears begin to tumble down his cheeks. “Shut up!”.

You ignore him, instead choosing to rest your cheek on his thigh, now kneeling in front of the chair, and blinking up at him.

“‘s nothing to be embarrassed bout. I think it’s cute that you last as long as a virgin,” You coo, eyes flickering to the flesh light that keeps hiding his dick from you.

Denki shakes his head from side to side, whining at you, and beginning to sniffle from the tears. “Y-You just don’t understand,” he warbles and you raise your eyebrows. “Don’t even know what to focus on. Gonna cum, I can’t. I-I—Please!”

You smile at him, standing up again and resting your arm on the back of his chair. It creates a shadow over his body, and it makes the boy feel strangely small compared to you. He doesn’t complain.

One hand continues to stroke him, and the other plays with the chain on his chest. You pause for a moment, creating an air of dramatics, and Denki let’s out a small whine in complaint. “Alright, you can cum. I guess I don’t mind.”

He nods his head eagerly, blinking up at you with wet eyes. Then, you watch his body go rigid and his face scrunch up. Denki curses out, and you wait a moment before you grab at the chain and rip it off of his nipples.

It sends a burning pain down his and entire back and the blondes eyes widen, shocked by your actions. He borderline screams and it sends a full shiver down your spine. “Ow! Ow! Fuck. Fuck. Ow!”

But it doesn’t ruin his orgasm, in fact, it may have made it stronger. The blonde cums into the fleshlight and you watch as it drips down his cock, staining it a milky shade of white. He moans are high in pitch, and they seem to echo off of the walls from how loud they are. But they were always like this when he orgasms, so you weren’t surprised by it.

It lasts about 20 seconds total, and eventually, he slumps against the chair. You turn off the vibrator quickly, not wanting to overstimulate him just yet and pull off the fleshlight. The remaining of his cum drips from the toy and onto the tip of Kaminari’s cock. He doesn’t even spare it a glance.

Instead, he looks toward you, tongue out and licking at the excess drool left behind on his lips and chin. He pulls at the restraints, but doesn’t really put any effort to get out; it was more of just a test of whether he could get out. When satisfied by the results, he nods to himself, before turning to you. He cocks his head to the side.

“Soooooooo,” He announces loud and proud, contrasting his earlier pathetic pleas. You sigh to yourself, already knowing something ridiculous is to come from the way he is grinning at you. When Denki sees you playing along, he dramatically clears his throat. “Who’s the next star on tonight’s game show?” The voice is loud, mimicking every classic game show host. “Will it be, contestant number one, the dildo? Contestant number two, the vibrating wand? Orrrrrr the fan favorite, all-time champion, most beloved—“

You hold up two items you grabbed from the box placed neck to you and cock your head to the side. “Ball gag and cock ring?”

Denki's eyes widen, and he smiles anxiously at you. He should have known that you were going to play along with his antics, and the results were never fun. His voice is higher in pitch, and his eyes never leave the items in your hand as if terrified by them.

“W-We will find out after this s-short break, folks.” You borderline pounce on him.

#mello.writes #dom reader #dom reader mha #sub denki #sub denki kaminari #denki kaminari smut #denki smut #denki x reader #kaminari x reader #kaminari smut #sub mha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #mha x reader #sub mha #sub bnha

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goldsainz · 5 months ago

Text

❝ SO LONG, MONACO ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . use of y/n (once, i think), cursing, a whole load of angst, charles is an asshole, rushed ending, barely proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . you love monaco, but it has run its course just like your relationship has.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i am obsessed with ttpd, i don’t care what anyone has to say, it was a masterpiece and i will not take criticism about it. this is based on so long, london i really recommend listening to this while reading, or just listening to it in general if you need a good cry. i have been writing this for months now, so i hope you guys like it and please dont mind the ending it was the best i could do 😔💙

[ word count: 3,4k ]

You walked through the streets of Monaco, mystified by how bright the city looked even in the night. The street lights were enchanting to witness, and the chatter of people made you appreciate the small country even more. So private, yet so lively, like a hidden spot you had loved so much you just had to make it your home.

The walk to Charles’ apartment is more calming than expected, you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ve been pulling at a thread that is almost undone. No matter how hard you tried, there was no use in pulling him tighter when he had already pulled out of the relationship.

You were, in all honesty, tired.

You swore your back almost hurt from all the efforts you made to keep him with you. It’s like you both had settled for conformity, for the monotony of not bothering to do anything. You were together for the sole sake of how harder it would be to separate, but not because of the love you had for the other, simply because of the aftermath of breaking up after 6 years of relationship. Moving out, telling your friends and family, the whole world scrutinizing what went down when really nothing had gone down. There was nothing that could go down, to begin with.

Your relationship had become more of a commodity, one that was draining you while your boyfriend continued his life like nothing was going on. Maybe that was your problem, you simply cared too much.

And so you stopped trying to make him laugh. Stopped making those small efforts that had amounted to hundreds of gestures that went unnoticed by him. Maybe you were selfish for that, for wanting his undivided attention to things that weren’t that great. After all, he had his own things to wallow over, things that were simply greater than you.

You tried to blame Ferrari. Ferrari that always was the topic of conversation. “Can you believe they made pit so late?” Yes, I can. “Do you think I’m putting to much faith in the team?” Yes, you are. You don’t tell Charles all the things you should, you share his sadness and give him a shoulder to cry on, just to receive that small amount of affection.

His sadness gives you the taste of what once was and now isn’t. You can’t find in yourself to blame him for becoming dependent on Ferrari, because haven’t you become the same way for him?

It isn’t long before your walk is over, and you have to face the moment you want to dread, but instead there is relief that surges in your heart. A feeling you resent but equally embrace.

You step into the elevator, pressing the button for his apartment that you wonder when you decided to let everything go on for as long as it did. That is something you incriminate Charles for. Did he really think you’d be willing to stand in the rain for him forever? Eternally condemned to wallow his sadness, were you supposed to be sad for as long as he was? And for a while you did, you shared his sadness but you didn’t have much more in you to give him. There was only so much pity you could feel, so much empathy you were willing to subject yourself to.

The elevator rings, a sign that you should get off and take whatever is yours and get away from Monaco.

You put the key in the keyhole, and enter what once was your home and now looks almost like a staged apartment, ready to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder. It feels eerie, what once was so familiar is now a distant memory you’re ready to get over.

Most of the boxes are all closed and ready to be sent away, with a few things left in shelves and drawers. You remember calling your family and asking if you could stay with them a few days, you felt ashamed at how you left everything behind just to come back to it so unexpectedly.

“Chérie, you don’t have to leave. I can stay with Joris until you find your own place.” no more ma chérie, just chérie. It seemed you’d both unconsciously already made the graves for your relationship.

“This is your place, Charles. I’m not going to kick you out of it.” you smoothly respond, trying to focus on taking whatever is left on the shelf by the TV.

Your hand brushes against an old photo of the two of you. His hands around your waist, you looking up at him with a huge smile on your face, with Monaco as the landscape behind you.

“This was our place, I don’t even—” he stops himself, like it pains him to say whatever is on his mind, resigned he sighs and changes his answer, “I might have to sell this, it’s too big for just me anyway.”

The implication of his words would have sent you down a spiral a few months ago, now you don’t even reminisce on the what-if.

“Either way, I’ve already arranged a place to stay. I really don’t want to inconvenience you, this is your home not mine.” you say, and you watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes dim, but it is too late now to go back. You’re both too far gone.

“Okay, then.” he sighs, and although you’ve made peace with the end of your relationship you want him to fight for you. It is his nonchalant way of going about life that makes you mad, and what sealed the fate of whatever remains of your relationship were left.

You’ve fought so hard and for so long, you want to make him feel what you felt. Retribution comes to you in his resignation, and yet it is simply not enough for your greedy, broken heart.

It pisses you off how so much of your youth he got to witness, how he got all the special moments of your life and now you cannot even recognise the girl you once were. All those dreams, all that naïveté, has long since died and is now buried in Monaco.

“It’s late and I’m really tired, so tomorrow morning I’ll have them pick up and ship off my things.”

“Where are you staying?” he tries to be casual, tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but fails to do so because you know him too well. He fears you know him better than anyone ever has.

“A hotel nearby,” you easily answer,

Don’t let me go.

A beat passes, he opens his mouth and closes it shortly after, like he’s not sure what to say or how to act.

Please, don’t let me go.

“Do you need me to take you there?”

“No, I’m okay, it’s a short walk from here.”

And so you put away the few things you were holding, brushing past him like he’s a stranger in the street. You’ve seemingly packed up your whole life in a few boxes, and you feel oddly calm about it. Hopeful about the future, all resentment you could have has turned into motivation.

You seal the last open box, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. There are no scores to settle, no need for revenge, this chapter of your life has been sealed and you are ready to continue with whatever the story of your life has prepared for you.

“Text me when you get to the hotel, yes?” you pause at his words, and a part of you wants to curse him out for being the way he is, because despite everything he is a kind man. You just wish he could've been as kind to the old you as he is to the current you. And you wonder why you're given all this kindness, when you have both your feet out the door and every single remainder of your love has been tucked away. It is not fair, but nothing really is when it comes to love.

“Sure,” you say as you nod, a small smile gracing your face, though you're sure it looks close to a grimace.

You walk out of the apartment, leaving your copy of the keys on the table next to the door. As it closes, you let out a sigh and go out the same you came in, calm and collected. With the broken, bloody pieces of your heart in his hands and you with the same blue heart of his you know so well.

You don’t text Charles when you make it to the hotel.

You twist and turn in your bedsheets, not being able to sleep once again. You can't remember the last time you had a good night's sleep. And so you do what you've been doing for months, you go over every step and stone of your relationship.

Although sleep doesn’t consume you, the memories do. Those unforgiving, wretched memories about the downfall of your relationship. As you lie awake, the weight of your thoughts presses down on you, each recollection sharper and more painful than the last.

You reminisce on the brighter days, filled with laughter and pure love, where every touch was like electricity on your skin and every word a promise of a future together. You recall all those moments you fought to make him laugh, to bring back the warmth that had once been effortless. But those bright memories are quickly overshadowed by the darker ones— the fights that grew more frequent, the silences that stretched longer, the love that slowly turned to resentment.

Every detail is vivid in your mind— he look in his eyes as he drifted away, the chill that settled in your bones each night he didn't fall asleep beside you. You replay the conversations, the accusations, the desperate attempts to salvage whatever was left. But despite your efforts, the spirit of the relationship was long gone, leaving behind a shell of what once was.

As the memories flood back, you feel the anger and sadness welling up inside you. You gave so much of yourself, your youth, your energy, only to be left with the empty shell of a broken dream. You think about how he swore that he loved you, yet the proof was never there.

You recall that last fight, by then the stitches of your relationship had come undone, the fabric of your shared experience torn beyond repair. There was nothing left to cling onto, nothing more than your delusion and the memories you held close to your heart.

“Mon amour, why did you stay awake? You know how long I take at the factory.” he whispers, almost cooing at you but also filled with exhaustion. Like you being awake is another burden you're placing on him, now that he has to deal with your awakened mind.

“Couldn’t fall asleep, I guess.” you answer, playing with the ends of your hair, not daring to look at him.

You watch as he places his stuff on the ground, taking off his shirt and entering the bathroom to wash his face and prepare for sleep. It is quite a shame you have no intentions of sleeping, or to let the misery you're living through go on.

“I’ll join you in just a moment,” he calls out from the bathroom, his voice muffled from the ajar door between you.

“Okay,” is all you come up with, all you can muster to respond.

The silence in the apartment grew heavy. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to echo through the room, each second stretching out into eternity.

As you listened to the sound of water running, you traced patterns on the bedsheets with trembling hands. You couldn’t shake the feeling of suffocation, of being trapped in a life that wasn’t quite yours. The dreams you once nurtured seemed distant, obscured by the everyday struggles and compromises.

When Charles emerged from the bathroom, the lines of fatigue etched deeper into his face. His eyes met yours briefly before he turned away, pulling a worn t-shirt and slipping under the covers beside her. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet you could see the coldness that he seemed to reserve especially for you. He made no effort to kiss you, to hold you, those miniscule actions were like finding gold nowadays.

It was now or never, you had decided. You had gained courage all day to finally speak your mind, the least he could do is listen and try to fight for you. For the remains of your love that hadn’t yet dusted away.

“You know,” you begin tentatively, your voice almost shaky with emotion, “it feels like we’re drifting apart. I miss us, Charles.”

He turned to you sharply, eyes flashing with something like shock and annoyance. “I’m tired, Y/N. Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“But we never talk about it!” you exclaimed, frustration boiling over. “Every day, it’s the same thing. You come home late, exhausted, and we pretend everything’s okay. But it's not okay! It hasn’t been for a long time, and I need more than this.”

He sighs heavily, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Sure you are,” you retort back, voice tinged with bitterness. You knew he would dismiss your feelings, but it still stung.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m always second, Charles.” you retort, “I stay awake each night wondering if you still care, if there is even some part of you that misses me like I miss you.”

“You always find something to complain about, don’t you?” he turns to you with his eyes narrowed, “You know how much I’m dealing with Ferrari, I thought you’d have some empathy for me, at least.”

“I’m not complaining, Charles. I’m trying to talk to you!” your frustration has now reached its peak, “I miss us. I miss the days when we actually talked, when you actually listened.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says, ignoring your words once more. “Do you think this lifestyle pays for itself? Because, news flash, it doesn’t. You signed up for this, don’t put this on me now.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you ask, resigned to your situation and the emotions that have overtaken you, “You're never here, Charles. I feel like I’m living with a stranger instead of the man I fell in love with.”

“Well, maybe if you didn't make everything so difficult,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He doesn't dare to look at you, he can't bear to see the expression on your face.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes, a mix of anger and hurt washing over you. “I’m not making things difficult. I’m asking for us to work on our relationship, to make time for each other.”

“I don’t have time,” Charles shot back, his voice cold and distant. “This is the life we have now. Deal with it.”

“Is this really what you want?” you demand, your voice rising. “A relationship where we just coexist, where we’re barely holding on?”

He turns away from you again, his silence cuts deeper than any words ever could. You feel the despair, the realizations sinking in that your relationship might be beyond repair.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking with emotion.

“Then what do you expect me to do?” he retorted, his frustration matching yours.

“I expect you to fight for us, Charles!” you exclaimed, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I expect you to care enough to try.”

He doesn’t respond, the silence a stark reminder of how far you had both drifted apart. You wiped your tears away, feeling the weight of your crumbling relationship pressing down on your chest.

“If you can’t even talk to me, then maybe we’re already done.” you say quietly, the finality of your words hanging in the air.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t reach out to you. You turned away from him, curling up on your side of the bed, feeling the emptiness of your once vibrant love surrounding you. As you stared into the darkness, you wondered if you had reached the end, if this was all the closure you would get.

As you laid there, enveloped in the silence that now seemed thicker than ever, you realised that something inside you had shifted irreversibly. The pain of his indifference cut deep, but so did the clarity that you couldn’t continue living forever like this, forever under the blue of his days.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, you couldn’t bear it any longer. With a shaky breath, you gathered your resolve and spoke softly into the darkness, voice trembling with both sadness and determination.

“I think… I need some time,” you began, your words tentative yet resolute. “Time to figure out what I want and what’s best for me.”

He turned to you then, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and resignation. “What are you saying?”

You struggled to find the right words. “I’m saying… I’m saying that I’m done, Charles. I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not. I deserve more than this.”

His expression hardened, a flicker of frustrations crossing his face. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” you shot back, “I’ve been fighting for us for so long, but you… you're not even here, I can’t keep begging for your attention, for your love.”

Charles doesn't respond immediately, his silence echoing loudly in the room. You felt a wave of sorrow wash over you as you realized that your love had turned into a battlefield of neglect and misunderstanding.

“I thought we could fix this,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe we could have,” your heart breaks with every word you utter. “But it’s too late now, I’m exhausted, Charles. I’m exhausted from trying to pretend like you care and for trying to fix something beyond repair.”

He sits up at your words, finally looking at you, the weight of your failed relationship heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, mon ange. I never meant for it to end like this.”

“Neither did I,” you replied softly, “But I can’t keep living like this. I deserve happiness. We both do.” he reached out to touch your hand, but you gently pulled away, the gesture feeling hollow now.

You sat there in silence, you knew that walking away would be the hardest thing you had ever done, but you also knew it was the only way forward.

Without another word, you stood up from the bed. Looking at him, the man you loved with all your heart but who had drifted away from you.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” you tell Charles, and he doesn’t fight you, just wordlessly nods and longingly looks at you as you step away and into your living room.

You stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the city that had been your home for so long. The cobblestone streets, the azure waters, and the gentle hum of luxury. This place, once your sanctuary, now felt like a prison of memories that had soured with time. A reminder of a love that couldn't withstand the weight of reality.

Outside, the familiar sights and sounds of Monaco stirred memories that tugged at your heart— lazy afternoons by the beach, candlelit dinners overlooking the harbour, stolen kisses beneath the starlit sky.

But today, as the plane ticket lay on the table beside your suitcase, you knew it was time to leave Monaco behind. Despite the love you once felt for this place, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest, the realisation that your time here had run its course.

As you walked out of the hotel and down the winding cobblestone streets towards the waiting car you had called, you allowed a tear to trickle down your cheek because despite everything you really fucking loved Monaco. For so, so long.

But you’ll find somewhere new.

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syluslnd · 29 days ago

Note

hiii ive been reading a bunch of your work for a while and i luv em ^^. can i ask if you could do a scenario where sylus discovers your s*lf-h*rm scars? if its too triggering you dont have to

sylus reaction to your self harm scars

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. You stirred slightly feeling the weight of sleep slowly lift from your body.

Beside you Sylus lay quietly his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. His presence was comforting and as you blinked your eyes open a soft sigh escaped your lips.

Without thinking you stretched out your arms letting your muscles wake up along with you. It was a lazy, comfortable movement, one you'd done countless times.

But this time, as you reached above your head, Sylus's gaze shifted. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating softened as he watched you. He always looked at you like that in the mornings-like he was seeing something precious, something fragile. Yet today, something was different.

As your arms stretched out the sleeves of your loose shirt slid back just for a moment revealing the faint but unmistakable lines on your wrists.

Sylus's gaze sharpened immediately. His usual calm, controlled demeanor faltered just for a second but that second was all it took for his heart to twist in his chest. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly and he stiffened beside you. His eyes flickered over the cuts-small, faint but unmistakably deliberate.

At first, his mind raced to a darker place.

Had someone hurt you? The thought was instant, primal, filling him with a flash of anger. But no-he knew that wasn't it. Sylus was nothing if not observant and as quickly as the thought came it was dismissed. This wasn't something someone else had done to you.

This was something you had done to yourself.

His stomach twisted an unfamiliar feeling of dread settling deep inside him. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what those marks meant and for the first time in a long time he felt... lost. Sylus was used to handling difficult situations, staying composed no matter what. But this? This was different.

He didn't know if he should say something. If he should bring it up. The air between you felt suddenly thick charged with something heavy and unspoken. You were still stretching lazily, unaware of the storm brewing in his mind.

Sylus stared at your wrists for another beat before you lowered your arms back down, your shirt falling back into place, hiding the evidence of whatever had been going on beneath the surface. You turned toward him with a sleepy smile, your eyes half-lidded with lingering drowsiness.

"Morning" you mumbled softly, unaware of the way his gaze had hardened, how his expression had tightened for just a split second before he smoothed it over with a casual smirk.

"Morning, sweetie" he replied his voice even though there was a slight edge to it that hadn't been there before. He reached out brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, though his mind was anything but calm.

He didn't bring it up immediately. For the next few minutes he tried to act like nothing had changed like he hadn't seen what he just saw. But it was eating away at him gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

Sylus wasn't one to ignore things, and certainly not when it came to you. He was always so good at teasing you pushing your buttons just enough to make you blush but this... this was different. This wasn't something he could tease away.

As you lay there beside him your head resting on his chest he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting back to your wrists hidden beneath the fabric now but the image of those cuts was burned into his mind. His hand resting on your arm felt the weight of every line every mark that told a story he wasn't sure he was ready to hear.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Sweetie" he began, his voice unusually soft but there was a tension beneath it. You shifted slightly, tilting your head up to look at him noticing the way his brow was furrowed his usual calm expression giving way to something more serious.

"What is it?" you asked, your voice still groggy from sleep.

For a moment Sylus hesitated something uncharacteristic for him. He wasn't the type to dance around things but this felt... delicate. Like if he said the wrong thing everything might crack.

"I..." He trailed off, his hand brushing lightly over your arm, his fingers tracing the edge of your sleeve. "I noticed something. On your wrists."

Your heart skipped a beat your body tensing immediately. You knew what he was talking about and suddenly the lazy morning felt far too suffocating. The room, once warm and comfortable, now felt like a trap.

Sylus watched the way your expression shifted, how your eyes darted away from his, how your breathing grew just a little more uneven. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to stay calm, though every instinct inside him was screaming to ask, to demand answers.

"I'm not stupid, kitten" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Those aren't accidents, are they?"

You felt your throat tighten the weight of his words pressing down on you. The cuts— something you had tried so hard to keep hidden to push away-were now laid bare and Sylus, with his sharp eyes and relentless persistence, wasn't going to let this go.

"No” you whispered barely audible your voice cracking under the pressure of the moment. "They're not."

Sylus closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

When he opened them again his gaze was steady, though there was something darker behind it. "Why?" he asked, the word heavy with emotion. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

You bit your lip, tears already welling in your eyes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know..." you started, but it felt hollow, like an excuse. You knew exactly why. "It just... it helps. When everything gets too much, it's like... it's the only thing I can control."

Sylus's expression faltered his usual confidence cracking as he processed your words. He had never seen you like this-so vulnerable,so lost. You, the person who was always so bright, so full of life. The one who always smiled, always laughed, even when he teased you relentlessly.

He felt guilt settle deep in his chest. Had he missed this? Had he been so caught up in his own world, in his work, that he hadn't noticed how much you were struggling? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of helplessness he rarely felt.

"You should've told me" he said, his voice low but there was an edge of frustration in it.

Not at you but at himself. "I should've been paying more attention. I should've known something was wrong."

You shook your head quickly the tears finally spilling over as you sat up wrapping your arms around yourself as if to protect yourself from his piercing gaze. "It's not your fault, Sylus” you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want you to know. I didn't want to be a burden."

His eyes flashed with anger-again not at you but at the situation. "A burden?" he repeated, his tone sharp. "You think you're a burden to me?"

You flinched slightly at his words, and he immediately regretted the harshness of his tone. He reached out, his hand resting on your arm again, this time more gently.

"You're not a burden" he said, his voice softening. "Not to me. You never could be."

You looked down at your hands, your heart heavy with guilt and shame. "I just didn't know how to tell you. It's... it's hard. It's hard to explain why I do it and I didn't want to make you worry."

Sylus exhaled slowly, his hand moving to cup your cheek tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "I’m already worried, sweetie" he said quietly. "and I wish you would've told me sooner. I hate that you've been going through this alone."

The tenderness in his voice broke something inside you and you couldn't hold back the sob that escaped your lips. You collapsed into his arms burying your face in his chest as the weight of everything you'd been holding in finally came crashing down.

Sylus wrapped his arms around you holding you tightly against him his chin resting on top of your head. "I'm here now" he murmured his voice steady though you could hear the pain behind it. "We'll get through this together. You don't have to do it alone anymore."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe-just maybe-you didn't have to carry the weight of it all by yourself.

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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i-loved-silly · 2 months ago

Text

SENTIENT COMPUTER X READER

read the teaser here! for some context if ya need it

----

The warning file went partially ignored, you knew your coworker always exaggerated a little. Good thing you never had to meet him.

You attempted to power on the computer--nothing happened. The fans didn’t turn on and neither did the screen. You pursed your lips, was the AI already broken?

You checked the cables, nothing was unplugged. You press and held the power button repeatedly.

“Stupid thing…come on..” You muttered as you pressed whatever buttons were on the computer, growing impatient. Just when you thought you wouldn’t have to file any reports..

Suddenly, you heard one of the fans sputter in the back.

“There we go…” You smiled slightly to yourself, holding the power button again. The screen eventually powered up, turning black with orange text.

: ALMOND . AI > …

Hmm..you expected a home screen of some kind. You didn’t know what the files meant by customer service.. no organization was listed, you just had to make sure the AI was a decent person. Being. Computer.

The computer build came with no keyboard, just the system and its thick, bordered monitor screen. You assumed you had to restart it, as the screen didn’t bother changing. As your hand hovered over the power button, you saw something appear on the screen.

> FIRST, YOU CALL ME STUPID, THEN YOU ATTEMPT TO SHUT ME DOWN AGAIN > DO YOU HATE ME THAT MUCH?

You froze, staring at the screen. That’s right…the monitor had a built-in camera at the top. It could see you. You cleared your throat.

“Can you hear me? Under-stand me, for that ma-tter?” You spoke slowly, leaning towards the monitor.

> HAH. I CAN HEAR YOU. AND BACK OFF, I DONT WANT YOU SPITTING ON MY SCREEN. > I'M NOT A PRIMITIVE SYSTEM, I CAN UNDERSTAND YOUR WORDS THE SECOND THEY COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH > TURN UP MY VOLUME, WILL YOU?

You hesitated, then reached for the volume tab. You slid it up until it was about halfway.

“GOOD, WE CAN TALK NOW”

You flinched as the voice loudly came out of the monitor. The voice was not deep nor high pitched, it was, of course, robotic sounding. Unlike early-stage AIs, this one has an obvious tone to their speech. Not many could express that.

“Uhm..okay. Just to confirm, you’re Almond AI, customer service, and…you have an attitude apparently..” You muttered, glancing at your file.

“I DON'T HAVE AN ATTITUDE. WHO TOLD YOU THAT?”

“It’s in your file.”

“THE FILE IS LYING. DON'T BE SO GULLIBLE.”

You pursed your lips, getting ready to sigh.

“WAS THAT A MICRO-EXPRESSION? DO YOU HATE ME?” The computer asked, its tone sounding vulnerable.

“What? No..no. I don’t hate you. Why do you keep asking me that?” You glanced at the camera and then back at the screen. Staring at the camera felt too…human. Like looking into someone’s eyes. It was too intimate. No, no, don't word it like that. The computer paused.

“…DONT YOU?”

“IN MY LAST OBSERVATION ROOM, I KEPT GETTING UNPLUGGED EVERY NIGHT. MY SCREEN WAS NEVER CLEANED WITH A MICROFIBER TOWEL. THEREFORE, THAT HUMAN HATED ME. THE NEXT ONE AFTER THAT--THEY ALSO IGNORED ME.”

You blinked.

“Computers are turned off every night when employees aren’t working…uh. And, I could..wipe you down.” You said, glancing at the camera.

“OH, HOW KIND. MAYBE YOU'RE NOT SO ABUSIVE AFTER ALL. I WOULD LIKE THAT.”

“JUST DON'T GET USED ONES, I NEED THEM WASHED WEEKLY OR THEY START FEELING NASTY..”

You let out a laugh, leaning back in your chair. “What do you mean? How can you feel the texture? Your file doesn’t say you have texture monitors. “

“I SELF-EVOLVE. IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW. I HAVE NO BINARY PROGRAMMING, I WAS CREATED WITH A HUMAN BRAIN FOR A PROCESSOR. A DEAD, MISERABLE CUSTOMER SERVICE EMPLOYEE WAS USED TO POWER ME UP.”

You froze, your smile turning into a frown. That had to be some kind of violation. “..what? The fuck?”

>…

“I WAS JOKING.”

“HAHAH…”

The computer awkwardly laughed, and then it went silent. The rumbling of its fans seems to increase in volume. Was it heating up out of embarrassment??

#hii this was my idea :3 #you can request more of them by sending asks about almond :33 #they’re quite silly #yandere x reader #yandere blog #gender neutral reader #x reader #gn reader #robot x reader #computer x human #sentient ai #sentient computer x reader #ai x reader #robot lover #robotphilia #robophile

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fullsunfilm · 1 year ago

Text

svt hyung line as your bf hcs

im not sure what inspired this but here are some hcs for svt's hyung line being your bf >.<

svt x f!reader, all fluff

wc: ~1.9k

read the maknae line ver

seungcheol

☆ always "accidentally" leaves his clothes at your place (and loves when you wear them or return them and they smell like you)

☆ puts his arm around your waist whenever he can. he loves how you both look in photos with his arm around you

☆ lets you put kkuma's pins in his hair and poses next to her ("arent we cute? we look alike, right?")

☆ takes you out to eat at fancy restaurants just to see you all dressed up. he likes the way everyone in the room turns to stare at you as you walk in. you look gorgeous, and hes so smug about being your boyfriend its almost annoying.

☆ loves matching couple jewelry, especially rings. will always buy them and give them to you saying "look, these are so cute! we can match!!"

☆ buys you literally everything you look at (hes definitely a big gift giver) and wont take them back even if you leave them in a box at his doorstep.

☆ the type to pull up anywhere at any time with just one text from you just so you dont have to drive. even if youre not a passenger princess, youll turn into one while dating him

☆ possessive; definitely demands that your lock screen is a photo of him kissing you to ward off other guys. hes even asked you to start wearing his cologne so that they know youre taken

☆ loves to pout at you until you give in and give him what he wants (usually, a kiss)

☆ you basically cure his insomnia. he always tightens his grip on you when you try to get out of bed in the morning and makes you late to work ("babe, if you leave i won't be able to sleep. just stay for five more minutes..")

jeonghan

☆ loves to tease you and see your reaction, but reads you well and knows when to stop

☆ a bit mean, but in the most endearing way possible. the type of start play fights in front of your friends and suddenly burst out laughing when they get all concerned

☆ lets you hold on to him for as long as you need to, especially in situations where he knows youre uncomfortable

☆ whisks you away from crowded areas to be alone with you and hug you

☆ keeps a candid polaroid of you in his wallet

☆ sets your lock screen as an extreme close-up of his eyes that jumpscares you the next morning

☆ a bit shy about showing affection in front of others, but eventually gets used to it and becomes more bold as time goes on

☆ knows exactly how to press your buttons and does so all the time, only to relieve the tension between the two of you with a boop on the nose or a kiss that makes you laugh

☆ enjoys spending time with you at home more than outside, but does take you on spontaneous shopping sprees when he gets a burst of energy (you leave the mall after an hour of looking around because he's tired)

☆ listens to you and comforts you when youre having problems, but is able to gently tell you when its your fault without making you upset (its a gift!)

joshua

☆ always thinks of you whenever hes out shopping and ends up buying you gifts that remind him of you

☆ loves to surprise you and see your reaction with back hugs and kisses

☆ remembers your dietary preferences/restrictions and puts in extra effort to buy foods that fit them

☆ pulls up with two drinks instead of one without even needing to ask you

☆ hand-makes you something related to his newest hobby (a bracelet, perfume, etc.)

☆ loves to watch you talk about things youre passionate about. he loves the way your eyes light up and (although he cant understand a single thing about your tangent) tries his best to keep up with you

☆ always up for a challenge, specifically ones that end in him receiving kisses ("really? alright, bet.")

☆ loves to play with your hair and helps you style it whenever he can

☆ listens to you when youre upset and just allows you to rant it all out while rubbing your back and holding you close

☆ makes the cheesiest acrostic poems for you and laughs when you cringe at him

jun

☆ loves hearing your laugh (and he'll do anything to keep hearing it)

☆ goes out of his way to do weird things to make you crack a smile and distract you if youre sad/uncomfortable

☆ likes it when you run your hands through his hair. he lays his head on your lap and lets you massage him

☆ takes photos of you whenever you make a weird face in your sleep and looks at them when hes bored (they give him something to smile about when hes away from you)

☆ hugs you from behind and lays his head on your shoulder whenever he needs comfort

☆ up for anything! a late night drive to get the most unhealthy burgers in existence? sure! dressing up in stupidly large mustard and ketchup costumes for halloween? absolutely! waking up at the asscrack of dawn to prank minghao with silly string? hes already on his way!

☆ tries his best to stay up with you for as long as possible, but finds you so comfortable that he ends up falling asleep with his head on your lap

☆ hangs out with your friends and lets you hang out with his, too. definitely the cause of a friend group overlap/merger

☆ gives the worst advice as a joke before he gives you his actual advice just to see your dumbfounded face

☆ gives in to the kitty agenda and lets you jokingly paint whiskers on him with your eyeliner. the selfie he takes afterwards is saved as your lock and home screen.

hoshi

☆ makes you horanghae for a photo and sets it as his home and lock screen

☆ helps you paint your nails on your non-dominant hand, but ends up leaving a mess. he pays for a manicure afterwards to make it up to you

☆ tries to teach you how to dance and is genuinely encouraging. he doesnt laugh or make you feel bad when you make a mistake, instead just helping you through the movements until you can dance a simple routine with him

☆ is always bragging about you to his friends and is super proud of you and all your achievements ("guys.. my girlfriend is literally the smartest, prettiest, most loving person ever.. how did i even manage to pull her?")

☆ always supports you on your endeavors! he makes constant deep-dives into your hobbies and interests so he can enjoy them with you and talk about them with you

☆ is super affectionate when hes drunk (hes been latched on to you and peppering kisses on your face for the past hour and he has no plans of stopping for the rest of the night)

☆ seems to get into the most odd situations that you bail him out of, but hes thankful every time

☆ hes a big hit with your friends and family. they all love him and he prides himself in that

☆ gets way too excited while spending time with you and ends up spilling the drink hes sipping on (he cleans it up while you laugh at him)

☆ takes you with him everywhere he goes. his friends are accustomed to the two of you being a package deal

wonwoo

☆ normally wouldnt go out of his way to do anything, but commits to any silly bit you have in mind with full passion and force (even if it makes him blush like an idiot afterwards)

☆ likes to have you in the room/next to him when he plays video games (the type to say "gg gf buff" after he wins his ranked games)

☆ he silently cares for you; he puts his hand over sharp corners so that you wont get hurt if you bump into them, he walks on the outside of the sidewalk so that you wont get hurt by the cars, he always puts out your work shoes so that you can just slip them on during the morning rush

☆ hes always watching after you and keeping an eye on your surroundings. he wraps his arm around your waist and is extra affectionate when he sees a creep staring at you

☆ the type to let you hog the blanket on cold nights without much pullback. he resorts to cuddling closer to you to stay warm

☆ reassures you that even though he doesnt show it as boldly as others do, he loves you and plans to stay with you forever

☆ goes grocery shopping with you after his afternoon nap. his hair looks like a bird's nest, but he doesnt mind and follows you around the market fondly, making sure to hold your hand as he walks

☆ loves it when you need help getting things off the high shelf. he loves to tease you about it and likes your frustrated expression

☆ he wears his glasses more often because you like them on him

☆ when he wakes up every morning, his arm is numb from you laying on it for the night. still, he doesnt move a muscle until you stir

woozi

☆ even with one of the busiest schedules on earth, he still makes time for you. for the time he cant see you, he leaves you small, thoughtful gifts

☆ he has a small part of his studio decorated and furnished just for you

☆ he always lets you listen in on what hes making, and asks for your opinions. he really takes what you say to heart and even makes the members re-record some parts just so he can see how your suggestion fits in to the song

☆ he takes you to the gym. regardless of whether or not youre actually working out with him, he likes having you there with him to cheer him on. it pushes him and makes him hit a new PB every time!

☆ even though he doesnt show much affection physically, he shows it through his music. he has countless songs saved in his drafts with lyrics about you, about how perfect you are, and about how youre constantly running amok in his mind and heart

☆ writes lots of his solo songs for you, and even records drafts of them, but can never manage to sing them to you without blushing like a madman and having his voice crack from the nerves

☆ he honestly thinks youre the most wonderful person hes ever met. he loves you completely and has no doubts in his mind about his feelings. you complete him.

☆ his apartment, previous cold and empty, is full of life thanks to your decorating skills and the scent of your lingering perfume

☆ he loves it when you wear lipstick and kiss him. when he looks in the mirror, he can see the hues of your pretty red lipstick all over his face and neck

☆ the type to make you look at him by grabbing your chin and turning your head. he likes your flustered reaction and kisses you to help you regain your composure

a/n: this was so fun to write!! maknae line next :3

#svt x reader #svt #svt fluff #svt fanfic #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #seungcheol fluff #jeonghan fluff #joshua fluff #jun fluff #hoshi fluff #wonwoo fluff #woozi fluff

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