#and also some i was just trying to warm up with

[foldingfittedsheets]

A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

[nehi-soda]

Bound in Bloom -

Jackson!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he’d find peace, not after all the years of running, fighting, and surviving. But here you were, standing in the kitchen of the farmhouse, the soft swell of your belly beneath his favorite sundress on his birthday.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, farmhouse!joel, dad!joel, established relationship, pregnancy, talk about your body changing, oral sex (female receiving), mention of unprotected P in V sex, creampie, smut, fluff, soft!joel, pet names (baby, darlin'). No use of Y/N. Mood board is for aesthetics only; the reader's features aren't specified.

A/N: I just know this would be Joel's DREAM, so I wanted to gift it to him for his birthday (and you cannot tell me this man does not have a breeding kink). Yes, Joel, you can keep me barefoot and pregnant, sweetie. (Spoiler coming up?) Also, in my mind, in this universe, Joel and reader moved out of Jackson and live in the farmhouse that Dina and Ellie live in at the end of pt 2.

for @justagalwhowrites' joel miller birthday celebration (I chose Jackson Joel and breeding kink).

The soft morning light filtered through the kitchen window, painting everything with a golden haze. The sweet smell of cake filled the room as you stood at the sink, hands submerged in warm, soapy water, humming to yourself as you scrubbed the last of the cake mix off the various utensils. The worn farmhouse floor creaked beneath your bare feet, familiar and comforting. The air outside was still and quiet, except for the occasional rustle of the wind through the tall grass surrounding the house.

It was peaceful out here. Away from the chaos, from Jackson, from all of it. Joel had finally given in to the idea of a quieter life. After years of running, fighting, and surviving, he got what he'd wanted— a simple life. And you, you were part of that dream, tethered to him in ways you’d never been able to escape since the moment you met him.

Your little floral sundress clung to you a little differently now, tighter around your hips and shorter than it used to be, the fabric barely grazing mid-thigh. The hem lifted just slightly as you shifted, the soft cotton pulling tighter across the swell of your belly. You absently brushed your hand over the curve and smiled softly.

You didn’t expect to outgrow your clothes so quickly, but the last few weeks had caught you off guard. It seemed like overnight; your belly had swelled, pushing at the seams of your favourite dresses and making your jeans a distant memory. Lately, you’d been relying more and more on Joel’s t-shirts and flannels, the worn fabric soft against your skin, offering that extra room you needed. You liked the way they smelled like him—like woodsmoke and fresh pine, wrapping you in his presence even when he wasn’t there.

And God, you could see it in his eyes every time he caught you wearing something of his —how much it did something to him. How the sight of you in his clothes, with your belly rounding beneath the fabric, lit something deep inside him.

But you didn’t try to get pregnant.

There wasn’t some grand plan, no careful conversations or conscious decisions about what you were doing. It had been the way he groaned when you begged for it, the way his breath hitched and his grip on your hips tightened like he was holding on for dear life. You loved the power it gave you, how those simple words could unravel him completely.

“Put a baby in me, Joel.”

You’d whisper it in his ear in those moments when he was deep inside you, moving slow and steady, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, sweat beading on his brow as he tried to keep control. Sometimes, you’d say it soft, barely a murmur against his lips. Other times, it came out all breathless, a plea mixed in with the sound of your moans. Sometimes it would be a loud scream.

And every time, it hit him like a goddamn freight train.

You felt it in the way his body would react—his hips driving harder, deeper, as if your words unlocked something in him, something primal. He couldn’t hold back when you said it. The way his voice would break, that low, guttural groan spilling from his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, his grip almost bruising, made you want him more.

“Please cum inside me, please, please, please…”

“You want that, huh?” he’d ask, his voice strained, thick with lust. “Want me to fill you up?”

And you did. You wanted it so badly in those moments; the idea of being swollen with his child, of him claiming you in the most permanent way, made your entire body burn with need.

His movements would become more purposeful as if he was consumed by the thought of it too.

But you weren’t trying to get pregnant. Not really. 

You just loved the way it made him lose himself, how he’d bury himself so deep inside you, hips flush against yours, as he came with a broken moan, spilling himself into you over and over again, filling you up as you’d asked.

You could hear him behind you, the sound of his heavy footsteps announcing his presence before his hands did. You smiled to yourself, letting the warmth of the sun match the warmth that spread through your chest. There was something so comforting about his presence—solid, dependable.

“Morning, darlin’,” his voice was rough, still thick with sleep, but there was something softer there, too, the edge he used to carry dulled by the peacefulness of this new life. His hands found your hips easily, warm and firm as they slid over the fabric of your dress, fingers grazing the swell of your belly like it was second nature to him now.

“Morning,” you murmured, smiling as he leaned in closer, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“How’s my girls?” he asked, his hand resting protectively on your stomach, thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you.

From the moment you’d found out, Joel had been convinced you were carrying a girl. His baby girl.

“They’re just fine,” you teased, leaning back into him, letting the warmth of his body sink into yours. “She’s still baking.”

Joel chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter.

"You look real pretty today," he murmured, voice gravelly and thick with that Southern drawl. You felt his hands slide across you in a slow, deliberate grip, the curve of your waist sliding down to rest on your sore hips. His breath was warm against your neck, the thick scrape of his beard sending shivers down your spine as he planted soft kisses along the sensitive skin there. His touch was slow, tender, not rushed—like he had all the time in the world; like you were something precious.

“Gonna need to get you some new dresses soon,” he murmured. “Can’t have you walkin’ around in this one when it’s barely coverin’ you.”

“You used to love this dress, couldn’t take your hands off me when I wore it, remember? You saying I’m getting too big for it?” You laughed softly.

“Nah,” he whispered, “Just sayin’ you’re growin’ right where I want you to.”

“Well, I wore it especially. Happy birthday, old man," you teased, raising your hand to dab bubbles on his cheek before giving him a soft kiss. You bit your lip and focused back on the dishes, the feel of the soap between your fingers suddenly became more acute. But it was hard to stay focused when his hands were moving like that. His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, teasing, lifting it ever so slightly.

"Joel, I’m almost done—" you giggled, but the words caught in your throat the moment his lips pressed against that sweet spot just below your ear. His hand slid higher, bunching the fabric, exposing more of your thighs, the cool air brushing against them.

“Good,” he growled softly between kisses, his voice low and rumbling. His hands wrapped around your waist, holding you steady as his mouth continued its slow, deliberate assault on your neck.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, your body already responding to him, the ache growing with every passing second. He knew it too—the way you shifted slightly, pressing back against him, craving more even as you tried to stay focused.

“So damn beautiful.” he whispered, his voice full of affection, his lips brushing your ear. A hand slid higher again, teasing along the edge of your underwear now, and you could feel your breath hitch, your whole body tensing.

You tried to protest again, half-hearted, knowing it was useless. His fingers slid beneath the thin fabric of your panties, brushing over your folds, finding you already wet with need making him groan softly.

“Always fuckin’ ready for it, huh?” he muttered, his fingers moving with a slow, torturous rhythm that had your knees trembling. “You were made for me, made for this, to carry my babies.…”.

All you could do was hum in agreement and let out a breathless moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as the pads of his rough fingers traced hypnotic circles against your swollen clit, the sensation overwhelming. His breath was hot against your ear, his free hand cradling your belly with a kind of possessive tenderness.

“God, you drive me crazy.”

He kissed your neck again, harder this time, nipping and sucking, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. You could feel him growing harder against your back, the heat of his body pressed flush against yours.

“You want me to stop?” he whispered, his fingers still moving in slow, agonising strokes. He knew the answer before you even said it, his voice thick with a kind of smug satisfaction that only made the heat between your legs burn hotter, your pussy fluttering around nothing.

“No…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, dizzy with need.

“Didn’t think so,” his voice deep, and then his fingers dipped lower, slipping two fingers inside you, pulling a soft moan from your lips, filling that ache you always seemed to have inside you that only Joel could satisfy.

"That’s it, mama, let me take care of you.”

You could hear the soft squelch of your pussy, accepting his fingers over and over as Joel gently swayed you in his arms.

Just when you were getting lost in his heavenly touch, he pulled them out making you whimper, your pussy clenching at the sudden loss. A firm hand between your shoulder blades pushed you forward, your pulse thrumming with anticipation.

Your palms braced against the cool surface of the sink as your body instinctively arched for him.

You felt him sink to his knees behind you, the rough denim of his jeans scraping against the wood floor.

You could barely catch your breath, the feel of his hand sliding down the curve of your ass, his fingers gripping the fabric of your soaked panties, tugging them down your thighs. You gasped as the cool air hit you, your legs spreading automatically.

He pressed his lips to the back of your legs, kissing his way up slowly, reverently, as if he were worshipping you.

“Goddamn, baby,” he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

His mouth was on you before you could even register the heat of his breath, his tongue slipping between your folds, lapping up the wetness. You let out a moan, loud and breathless, your body jolting forward as the first wave of pleasure hit you like a lightning bolt. His hands were firm but loving on your hips, pulling you back just enough so he could fit his mouth where you needed him most.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your entire being as his tongue slid over your sex, slow and demanding. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t devouring you like a man starved. No, you were a luxury that had to be savoured.

His tongue dragged a long deliberate stroke from your clit to your entrance. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you steady as he began to devour you, his mouth relentless, his tongue dipping and circling with a precision that left you shaking.

“Joel.”

His name was all you could manage, and it came out in a desperate moan.

He fucking loved how his name sounded when you moaned it.

He pressed a kiss to your swollen clit, soft and tender, before sucking it gently between his lips.

Your head dropped forward, your body trembling as the pleasure built inside you, hotter and hotter, until it felt like you were going to explode.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered, your fingers digging into the edge of the sink till your knuckles turned white, the pressure inside you building faster than you could handle.

Each lick was thorough and purposeful, his tongue exploring every inch of you like he was committing it to memory.

���God… Joel… feels so fucking good.” You could barely speak, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as his mouth worked you over.

You rocked your hips back, settling his tounge further into your cunt.

“Mhm, mhm,” Joel hummed against you, his hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you down harder onto his face, his words vibrating against the overstimulated bundle of nerves. “Atta girl, just like that, let go, baby.”

You could feel the orgasm building inside you, the heat coiling tighter and tighter. You were right there, teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he pushed you closer and closer.

“Joel… I’m gonna—" you tried to warn him, but it was too late. The orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out and came hard on his tongue. But he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, drinking every drop of your release until you were spent, legs giving way, chest heaving.

When he finally pulled away, you were a quivering mess and could barely stand. You felt your juices dripping down the inside of your thighs and shivered.  

Joel wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he rose behind you with a groan. “Jesus, I'm gettin’ too old for this.” His hands slid up your thighs pulling your panties back up with him. His large arms settled around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

"Don’t be too worn out," you teased, your voice soft, still giddy with the afterglow. “Ellie and everyone are coming over, remember? And we’re having cake!”

“Baby, you know…I'm feelin’ a little full, actually.” He joked.

Your jaw dropped incredulously at his vulgarity before he planted kisses all over your flushed face.

Each year, when he blew out the candles on a small cake you’d make from whatever ingredients were available, he’d always wish for the same damn thing: To keep loving you.

 And if he were extra good, maybe he’d be given another shot at fatherhood. 

Joel knew that this year, even if he never let himself fully believe he deserved it, you had already given him his greatest wish.

divider credit to @mikeykuns

[bpmiranda]

hey could I request lumberjack Logan being known as all emo and solitaire at work but one day his gf shows up because he forgot lunch?

My Girl (Logan Howlett)

A/N: fluffy, lumberjack!logan, bubbly!gf, 20+ f!reader, grumpy!logan, suggestive content

When Logan spent most of the day chopping wood and hauling tree trunks, he wasn’t exactly a in a chatting mood so the men he worked with didn’t really know much about him. Logan put in the long hours and he’d go home, he wouldn’t ever go to the bar with them, wouldn’t join in on the work gossip. His coworkers only knew two things about him; his name and what car he drove. Sometimes he would be dropped off and they only ever saw the silhouette of whom they could assumed was a woman, but Logan never had her get out of the car.

“Who’re you hiding from us, Logan?” They would tease and he’d only smirk to himself, shaking his head as he continued his tasks.

You weren’t a secret, he wasn’t trying to hide you. Logan wanted to keep you safe, to protect you, and above all, keep you to himself. Some of the men didn’t know how to control themselves around pretty women and Logan believed you were the prettiest thing to grace the Earth. He knew he wouldn’t be able stand their ogling eyes on you, their cheap sweet talk making you uncomfortable, so he’d kiss you and tell you he loved you before getting out, he’d tell you to sit in the car as he grabbed his tools, and give you a sly wink as you backed out to head home.

It wasn’t your intention to drive up there without his knowledge, but he had forgotten his lunch and you couldn’t stand the thought of him working those long shifts without something to eat. As you scanned the yard for him among the others who were already taking their lunch break, one of them began to approach you with a small smirk, his eyes roaming over the backside of your jeans. When you spotted Logan, he was already sauntering towards you, the ax resting over his shoulder as you happily bounded over to him, unaware of the man now cowering below Logan’s sharp gaze behind you. “Don’t be mad. You forgot your lunch.” You say against his lips as he brings you into his aide with an arm around your waist. You press a hand into his chest and hold tightly onto his lunchbox behind his back as he kisses you with such fervor it makes you dizzy.

It’s his fault he forgot it, left it sitting there on the counter on which he also had you sitting with his head between your thighs. It had been a rushed morning, but if he was going to choose whether to spend what extra time he did have packing his lunch or pleasuring you, he would choose the latter again. “Couldn’t ever be mad at you, baby.” He whispers against your lips, holding you so possessively you feel slightly out of breath. “You should go home now,” He urges and he feels your lips turn into a frown against his mouth which makes him chuckle. “Or would you like to stay with me during lunch?” He asks and you nod. “Just this once.”

The other men in the lumberyard understand why he’s always racing to get home. They understand why there’s no space in his life for work buddies or late night drinks at the bar. Logan’s in love. They see it in the way you two seem to be in your own little world as you sit on the hood of the car, yapping his ear off about the errands you’re going to run and the dinner you’re going to cook while he leans against the hood beside you, eating and listening with a content look in his face. “You don’t have to go through all that trouble, princess.” He tells you as he’s packing up his lunchbox.

“Well then, what will we have for dinner?” You tease as he moves to stand in front of you, leaning into you so he can kiss you softly, his hands firmly planted on the hood as you caress his bearded jaw.

“I was hoping for a dessert first type of evening.” He whispers, making your face grow warm as he mumbles into your neck, “Let me take you out for dinner.”

The idea of a night out so you can have a relaxing night in is quite appealing and you hum as his lips move to your collarbone. “What should I do until you get home then?” You ask, sighing as he bites your earlobe gently.

“Wait for me in bed.” He whispers, one of his hands smoothed down your back and he pulls you into him, pressing your chest into his own. “You don’t have to do anything else for me today, sweetheart.”

Logan was secluded, he wasn’t big on having drinking buddies, and there wasn’t much that he wanted in terms of things. With you, however, Logan was kind and doting and all he wanted was to keep you happy and satisfied, you were all that mattered. You were his little piece of heaven on Earth and he wasn’t going to allow anything to soil what you two shared, not in this lifetime.

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Hi can I request first time with chan with shy reader? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

i’ll help you through it, yeah?

pairing: chan x virgin reader

genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: ~2.6k

warnings: mutual pining, pet names, protected sex, praise.

authors note: i have this request in my inbox for other members as well, so look out for those in the future. i have so many requests (tysm btw) so it’s taking me a little while to get through them. i’m trying to do the oldest ones first because y’all been waiting so long. - not me blushing while writing this. i wish my first time was this sweet. lol

masterlist

"i’m just sick of it, ya know?" you complained. "i’m sick of feeling like this. like im unwanted and missing out on something."

your best friend looked at you, intently listening, but worry starting to mar his features. "are people being mean to you because you’re a virgin?" you could sense the anger threatening to rise up out of him at the thought of someone being mean to you.

"no. this is just pressure i’m putting on myself at this point. im too old to still be a virgin."

"i don’t think that’s true." chris said. "i thought you were saving yourself for someone you really loved? wasn’t that the point?"

he was right, you had always said that since you and chris were kids. you didn’t want your first time to be some fleeting, gross experience. you wanted it to be sweet and full of love. but, it didn’t seem like that was working out and you were tired of waiting.

"yeah well i don’t think that’s going to happen." you said, your voice soft, almost sad. "the person i love doesn’t love me, so im just going to have to give up on that." you chuckled sadly, the sound almost a scoff.

"i understand that. im in the same situation." he confided. "but i haven’t given up. i don’t think you should either."

you looked over at him, the space between you both on the couch was small. you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. that’s just how chris is. he’s warm. he’s warm and he’s safe and.. how could you not be in love with him? your heart longed for him to be the one to take your virginity. your heart ached with the thought of it.

he looked back at you with his big brown eyes, his curly hair tickling his eyelashes. and he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. why couldn’t you just see how in love with you he is? he hated himself for not being able to confess to you. for not being able to just come clean and tell you how you are the center of his universe. but he was scared. to have you as his best friend and to long for you but never have you was better than telling you and losing you all together. but maybe.. he could try to help you with your current problem? see how things went and then he could decide from there what he would do.

"i could maybe.. help you." chris said shyly, rubbing his sweaty palms together in his lap.

you were shocked. "help me? with this?" why would he offer to help you unless he also wanted to? you felt a small bit of hope bloom in your chest.

"only if you want to." he said quickly. "i’m not trying to push myself on you. i’m just trying to help. we don’t have to."

you thought about it for a moment, your body screaming at you to say yes. but your mind was telling you everything that could go wrong. what if he hated it? found you gross and laughed at your inexperience? you brushed those thoughts off. you and chris has been friends for over fifteen years. he would never do something like that to you. he was kind.

"i would be okay with that.." you said. "but it might not be very good."

"i’ll help you through it, yeah?"

you loved him. god you loved him. this was the right decision,you knew that.

he scooted closer to you on the couch, your thighs pressed against each other. he touched your face, turning you to look at him. he looked in your eyes before saying "if you want to stop, just tell me,okay? i won’t be mad." you nodded as he looked down at your lips. and ever so slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or scare you, he leaned it. his pillow soft lips made contact with yours and you were done for. he moved his lips against yours, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. your hands found their way around his neck, tangling in his curls.

this felt so right, but your stomach churned with worry. your body was still tense.

"sweetheart, relax." he whispered against your lips. "you know me." he kissed you again, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. you felt embarrassed. kissing chris felt like the first time you had ever kissed anyone,even though that wasn’t the case.he had you so flustered, your lips weren’t listening to your brain’s commands. you opened your mouth and let his tongue in. he tasted sweet.

he pulled away, admiring your flushed cheeks. "do you want to move to your bedroom?" he asked. you nodded, and he stood, offering you his hand. he led you though your apartment and to your bedroom, knowing the way by heart. standing at the edge of your bed, he pulled you close. he kissed you again, his hands finding their way under your shirt, tickling the skin of your tummy.

"can we take this off?"

your hesitation made him pull away, studying your face for any signs of wanting to stop. "would it help if i took mine off first?" you nodded again, thankful for his suggestion. "you want to help me?"

you grabbed the hem of his black shirt and pulled it up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. you looked at him, at his body. you had seen him shirtless multiple times over the years. summers spent together swimming and early mornings at his apartment after late night study sessions, but this was different. his chest was bare because he wanted you to see it. and that made your skin hot.

"now you.." he said, reaching for your shirt slowly, giving you time to protest. but you didn’t. you let him pull your shirt off, leaving you standing in front of him in your jeans and lacy black bra. his eyes grew wide, his breath catching in his throat. could he do this? you were so beautiful and he hadn’t even seen all of you yet. you were starting to squirm under his stare. his hands were warm and soft as they grazed over your skin, his arms wrapping around your waist as he moved to kiss you again. his fingertips danced up your back, until they unclasped your bra and it fell to the floor. he continued kissing you, not looking at your bare chest right away, giving you time to get used to being bare in his presence. you nipples brushed against his chest, growing harder. arousal pooling between your legs as his kisses moved to your jaw and then your neck.

he took his time with you, slowly placing wet kisses on your skin as he guided you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body hovering above you. he kissed down to your collarbones, across your chest and down to between your breasts. he looked up at you, his lips still pressed to your skin. your cheeks were red, your mouth slightly open as you tried to draw in breath. he saw no signs of stopping in your eyes. no , they begged him to continue. his lips closed around one of your nipples, his tongue gently caressing the nub. his hand gripped your waist as he sucked on your nipple, your hands balled into fists at your sides.

"you can touch me if you want to, baby." he said, his breath blowing cold against the wet skin of your breast. "don’t hold back."

he kissed his way across to your other nipple as you brought your hands to his hair. he started to move lower, until his lips were against your belly button, and even lower still until his tongue was running along the top of your jeans. "can i take these off?" he asked, fingers grazing over the button and zipper. with your approval, he carefully unbuttoned them and slid them down your legs, revealing your panties that matched your bra. he looked up at you, his face only inches from your center. "you’re so wet, baby." he said. "i can see a little wet patch on your panties."

your face flushed and you turned your head, hiding your embarrassment in your pillow.

"hey.. hey.." he said, his hand finding yours, tangling your fingers together. "don’t hide, baby. let me see your pretty face." you did your best to look at him, trying not to focus on your insecurities, but trying to focus on him instead. you squeezed his hand, his kind brown eyes showing nothing but love. he kissed your hip, and across your skin until he was placing a gentle kiss on your clothed clit. you jerked slightly. "is that the spot baby?" you nodded, biting your lip.

he pulled away, standing up. he chuckled at your pout, your little whines of protest. "just let me take these off." he unbuttoned his jeans, and kicked them to the side. he was only wearing his underwear now, his erection causing the material to stretch uncomfortably. he admired your body from this angle. your arms wrapped around your middle, your legs bending, trying to cover yourself. "don’t." he said, grabbing one of your wrists in each hand and holding your arms out. "let me look at you, baby. god, you are so beautiful."

his hands found their way back to your breasts,squeezing slightly before his fingertips grazed down your skin to the elastic of your panties. he hooked his fingers around them. "can i take these off? can i see your little pussy?" you lifted your hips in answer, helping him slide them off. you were completely naked in front of him now but you didn’t have time to be self conscious about it. his lips were already back on your skin,kissing everywhere he could reach. "fuck you’re so pretty." he mumbled against your tummy. "been dreaming about this."

what did he mean by that? you wondered.

"can i see you too?" you asked, your voice sounding so loud to your own ears, having been silent for so long. but you were starting to feel more comfortable. he made you feel so safe.

"of course you can." he said, straightening again to take his briefs off. and now you got to admire him for a moment. the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen leading down to his hard and leaking erection. the first thing you thought was that he was big. but honestly, you didn’t really have much to compare it to.. so what did you know? "don’t worry baby. we’ll go slow." he said, sensing your hesitation.

he leaned down to kiss your lips once again, his fingers making contact with your wetness. he rubbed soft circles on your clit. you grabbed onto his shoulders, your small whimpers falling into his mouth.

"does that feel good?" he asked.

"yes.." you breathed. "so good."

his fingers traveled down through your folds and teased your entrance. "i’ve got to prepare you a little bit, okay? like this.." and he slid one finger inside of you slowly, pumping in and out. you had done this to yourself before but this was completely different. you had never felt like this before. "there you go, baby." once he felt you had gotten used to the first finger, he added a second. he moved them in and out slowly, his thumb rubbing softly on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building. you were embarrassed by how quickly it had come. but you had been waiting so long for him to touch you like this, you couldn’t help it. he could feel you fluttering around his fingers. "are you going to cum?" he whispered against your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses, his teeth nibbling.

"yes.. yes fuck." you panted.

"go ahead, baby. let go."

and you did, you clamped down on his fingers, his name falling from your lips as your body shook.

he had been fantasizing about you moaning his name like that for so long now that it took everything in him not to bust right then. he took a deep breath, pulling his fingers out of you. you watched as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, your pussy dripping and pulsing, begging for more. he leaned over the side of the bed and fished a condom out of his pants pocket.

"are you ready?" he asked, holding the condom up.

"yes please." you said, breathless.

"ooh so polite." he teased, giggling as he tore the foil pack open. you watched as he pumped himself a few times, precum leaking from his swollen tip, before sliding the condom down his length. he leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you softly. "remember, we can stop at any time. just tell me. okay?"

"i don’t want to stop." you said, desperate. "please don’t stop."

he smiled. "i won’t unless you tell me to." he knelt in front of you, his hands on your knees, spreading your legs. he lined himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing the tip in. you gasped and his head fell back, his mouth open. he slowly inched his way inside, giving you time to adjust. you whined under him, your eyes squeezing shut at the stretch. "i know, baby. i know." he said. "you’re doing so good." once you felt his thighs on the back of yours, he stilled. letting you properly adjust to his size. he could feel you pulsing around him, his cock begging to cum. "i’m gonna move now, okay?"

you nodded frantically. "yes. yes please, please."

he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, his pace increasing with each thrust. he wasn’t going to last much longer. he knew that. "fuck— baby you feel so g—good." he stuttered. his hands were digging into your hips as he pumped into you. his mouth open, his eyebrows scrunched together, his hair sticking to his forehead. "are you doing okay?"

"fuck yes.." you gasped. "gonna— gonna cum."

he could feel you squeezing around him. he fell down on to his elbows, his arms caging your head, his panting breath in your ear. he continued pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds filling the room. "cum with m-me baby." he said. "fuck- fuck-"

you squeezed him tighter as your orgasm washed over you, you vision going dark. his thrusts got sloppy and then stopped all together as he spilled into the condom. he collapsed next to you, his panting matching your own. he lazily kissed your jaw and your shoulder. "i love you.." he said.

you froze.

"shit- sorry." he said. "i- i didn’t mean to ruin the moment.. it slipped out."

you turned to face him, his brown eyes looking worried. "i love you too.."

his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly back and forth. "really? you’re not just saying that because your overcome with emotion right now?"

you shook your head no. "i’ve been in love with you for a while now.." you confessed.

he chuckled. "i’ve been in love with you for a while. guess we were both too scared to say anything."

you nodded, feeling blissfully happy. you nuzzled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"are you okay?" he asked. "was that.. okay?"

"i feel amazing." you said, your voice muffled by his chest. "i’m glad i waited for someone i truly love."

"gahh my heart." he said, squeezing you tighter,

[almostempty]

The more you suffer

Self Esteem Part 4 | Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Hey y’all, it’s me back with more farm-to-table Joel smut. Took a while to figure this one out, but I hope you’re hungry horny bc it’s lengthy and full o’ fuckin’. Date Night Dave is back by popular demand, and fuckboy Joel finally experiences a consequence??? 

Warnings/tags: fuckboy!Joel, gratuitous smut, pwp, alcohol use, unprotected piv sex (that has no physical consequences bc it’s fiction and I like it that way), oral sex, public blow job, cock warming in a car, reoccuring guest appearance by dom!dave, date night dave inspo from the cartier campaign bc that's rich dave right??? au/ooc dave york is single/rich/mysterious and down to clown, jealous!joel, soft!joel, cuck!joel, jorkin’!joel, some angsty bits, no use of y/n, voyeur/exhibitionistish, light d/s dynamics, light (?) degradation/humiliation, praise kink, AU modern/no outbreak, overall just a lot of sex with some feelings in between, no beta blame all mistakes on me/adhd/insomnia 

Notes: please leave feedback! Tell me all ur thots! 

Thanks: to everyone who has read parts 1-3, that means the world to me 

Dedicated to @gothcsz for the punishment inspo and @auteurdelabre for encouraging my delusions , and @strangergraphics for dividers

WC: 12.1K  AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 3: Kick and Scream

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

It’s like it was a curse, not a confession. Joel’s voice plays on a loop in your mind. For days. You hear it when you wake up, against your will. It’s a reflex at this point. You hear it when your mind drifts at work, when Katie blathers on about who knows what on your brunch date, and it gets loudest at night when you can’t sleep. It repeats and repeats and repeats. Taunting you, describing you, mocking you. Leading you on. 

Occasionally, you play the tape all the way through. Finishing the rest of the scene. Starting with 'All I can fuckin’ think about' all the way up to when that coward skipped out the door at the first glimpse of that thread connecting you. The first sign of something laced with vulnerability. 

Every minute that passes since you’ve been cursed with Joel Miller’s enigmatic mid-coitus confession is torture. Slow, painful, agony. Time drags so excruciatingly slowly that you feel like months have passed, but it’s only been three days since you were cursed with this affliction when you get a text. Well, it’s practically a fucking email. A business memo. 

Dave: Hey, I wanted to follow up. I enjoyed our date and would love to see you again. I’m out of town for the next 72 hours, but I’d like to take you out for drinks again when I return. I can pick you up again Thursday night, same time? Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be available earlier in the evening on Friday. If you’d like to do dinner. 

Dave: I’ll be honest, though; I’d prefer to see you sooner than later. 

Holy shit. 

You reread the message at least three times as you sink onto your sofa. Your stomach flips at his second message, before you start trying to pick it apart, anyway.

It’s almost too…formal? Cordial? Maybe you’re just used to only getting cryptic sentence fragments from Joel, who texts like he’s rocking a Nokia 3310. Because it’s also so direct. Dave is not afraid to communicate clearly and express his interest in you. It’s not overtly sexual, but not nonchalant, Goldilocks approves. 

You grin at the phone in your hand, and your gaze veers off until you’re staring at the wall, projecting the replay of your date with Dave like a movie at the drive-in. His mouth grazing your ear as he murmured filthy thoughts to you at the table, his fingers skating up your thigh, the taste of his cock sliding along your tongue, and the sounds that started from deep in his chest before he came down your throat. 

It’s not like Dave wasn’t memorable, but damn, you had been wallowing in your feelings over Joel like it was your full-time job. Fuck that. Dave is a welcome distraction. You agree to drinks and let him know you’re looking forward to seeing him, before swapping to your text thread with Katie. 

You: is it just because the bar is in hell for men, or is it appropriate for my pussy to flood over a man with a plan??? 

Katie: Can it be both? 

Katie: Oh my god

Katie: PLEASE tell me it’s the bathroom blowjob guy

Katie: Is he planning a second date? 

Katie: I told you! Green flags! 

You: maybe 🙃

……..

Knowing you have a date to look forward to eases the sting. The memory of Joel walking out the door. You can still hear his fucking bedroom voice in your ear, but the chokehold loosens slightly. You fill the next couple of days with anything and everything to make the time pass faster. Too busy to have the time to check your phone or, worse, text Joel. 

Dave continues to be everything Joel isn’t. Communicative, confirming your plans the morning of, punctual, pulling up precisely on time, and a gentleman greeting you with a compliment and opening the car door for you. You know you've let the demented demons within you get a little too comfortable when the green flags almost give you the ick. Katie’s voice echoes in your ears, and you suck it up.

It turns out Distraction Dave is just as hot as you remember–even without a jealous Joel-shaped ogre stirring your loins from across the room. He exudes a debonair charm with his tailored, quiet luxury brand look. You feel a wave of insecurity lurch in your chest before you realize he’s got you on his arm like you’re a designer accessory. He’s pleased to be seen with you as he guides you to your table in the dimly lit jazz-style lounge. It puts you at ease when he takes the lead in making decisions. 

The cocktails are strong, but you’ve only had a few sips before. It’s Dave who has you feeling warm in the face. He’s flirty but doesn’t push. He doesn’t assume you will get handsy under the table again. In your twisted brain, that only emboldens you to make a move. He’s still talking, but you aren’t really listening, distracted by his neck and lips and how close you are to each other. 

Close enough that it’s no stretch to slide your hand from your lap to his. You drag your hand slowly, up up up. When the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, you feel your pulse jump. The atmosphere fades, and the noise blurs as your senses lock onto him. Dave’s brow twitches just before his hand covers yours. 

“There she is,” his smile is devilishly handsome with a dark glint in his eyes, “my dirty girl.” His voice, his words, and the heat of his hand sprinkle horny fairy dust over you. “Thought about you all week,” he confesses. 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

You swallow your intrusive Joel-voiced thought. Flush it away into the sewer. 

“Me?” you ask coyly, batting your lashes. He hums, affirming. His hand squeezes yours, and heat starts to pool between your legs. “What about me?” your eyes have a sparkle in them as you sip your drink. He leans closer to you, nose grazing the soft skin behind your ear, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Thought about your pretty face,” he tips your chin towards him with his free hand, so close he’s all you can see. “Thought about these lips,” he gently kisses you, retreating before you can escalate the intensity. You pout at the distance when he draws back and smirks at your needy expression. “Thought I might not hear back from you with how distracted you were by your not-ex not-stalking you last time.” 

An ache flares in your heart before you drown it with irritation. Garbled words stick in your throat. Something sharp and defensive tries to slash through, but Dave continues, unbothered before you can get anything out of your mouth. 

“Mostly,” his crisp, rich scent washes over you as he dips into dot kisses up your neck, dissolving your defenses. His warm breath tickles your ear as he husks in a low tone, “I thought about how this greedy throat felt trying to swallow my cock,” his fingers wrap around your neck for emphasis, and he feels your quiet whimper of a response. 

Your cheeks burn. He claims your lips with a hungry kiss that has your moans vibrating in your throat beneath his hand. It’s urgent and needy how your tongues, teeth, and lips collide. When his other hand finally releases yours, and he possessively cups either side of your jaw in his large palms, you’re lost momentarily. Consumed by the sensation of Dave’s tongue sliding against yours and the desire to crawl into his lap and straddle him here in the booth. 

You shove away the thought of Joel that flashes through your mind and double down on your desire for Dave. You bite sharply at his bottom lip, roughly knocking your faces together as you press your body into his, demanding more intensity as you make out.

When you break apart, you feel the crazed expression on your face as you smirk at the man in front of you. “I’ll give you more to think about,” you say more breathlessly than you intended, but the message is still clear. 

You dive back in, licking a hot stripe up his neck and biting at his earlobe. Your hand is back on task, groping for Dave’s thick erection when he stops you again. He tugs your hand away, and you huff. 

Dave laughs, enjoying the frustration on your features as he tucks your hair back behind your ear. He’s rudely composed while you’re on fire. 

“Finish your drink,” he tilts his head towards the antique glass in front of you. You down the rest in an impolite gulp, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Dave shakes his head softly, a mix of mild disbelief and something headier. “That’s a good girl,” he acquiesces you for following his direction with gusto. 

His praise drips over you like warm honey, easing the confusion you felt at his rejection of your touch. He answers your unspoken question, “We can stay here, dirty girl, but I’d prefer to take you home so I can get my mouth on you this time.” The close quarters in the booth have you nearly nose to nose. A smirk spreads across his face when your lips part at his proposal. 

“Let’s go,” you respond quickly, it’s an easy decision. 

He takes you to his condo nearby. It’s modern, masculine, and decorated but not very revealing of anything more personal about him. He wastes no time leading you to the bedroom, and you’re just as eager to get him into bed. 

But when your impatient hands start tugging at his clothes, he grips you harshly, fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper arms, pinning them to your sides, essentially immobilizing you as he holds you back. He has this look to him like he knows something that you don’t, and that’s enough to make you pause. 

“She’s hungry, hm?” it’s phrased like a question, but you don’t think he’s expecting a real answer. His eyes rove over you before he relaxes his grip. 

“Sit.” 

You obey without a thought, perching on the edge of the perfectly made bed before him. “That’s a good girl,” his voice has a raw edge to it, and the phrase shoots straight to your core. You fight to keep still, overwhelmed with the sudden need to please him and convinced he wants to see how closely you’ll follow his orders. 

Dave’s eyes are full of lust and something darker as he studies you, his presence looming, commanding, and teasing. “Look at you, ready for more.” His tone is mocking but coated with approval that tingles along your spine. He grabs your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze again, “You liked the risk last time. Coming on my fingers under the table.” 

You nod, and he grants you a flash of a smile. It’s gorgeous but restrained and tampered back down. 

"And you liked being on your knees for me. You liked taking my cock down your throat, didn’t you?” 

You nod again, but his fingers dig into your cheeks slightly, a silent reprimand. His voice drops to a low growl, “Use your words.” Your eyes widen before you blink away the mixture of shock and thrill. 

"Yes,” you get the word out in a quietly, “I liked it," you manage to add a hint of confidence. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he strokes your cheek gently, “you did such a good job taking care of me last time.” His adoration flutters across your skin, spreading heat. “But it’s my turn now, isn’t it?” 

The wicked smirk on his face makes you feel lightheaded as he lowers himself in front of you. Your knees part reflexively to let him move closer. “That’s a good girl. Spread these legs for me,” he continues as he runs his hands along your smooth legs until he’s bunching up the bottom of your dress.

Without wasting a second, his mouth is on you, kissing the soft crease of your thighs and sucking an open mouth kiss over the damp fabric covering your core. His hands anchor your thighs, thumbs caressing your flesh in a mockery of tenderness as his mouth delivers a sinful symphony sucking at your skin, nipping at you in a way that makes your thighs tense beneath his grip and spewing dirty thoughts. 

“So wet for me,” he mutters as he raises in front of you, pulling you to stand so he can strip you bare. Your arms hang submissively by your sides as his hand moves slowly, down your jaw, wrapped around your throat, down your chest, pausing to marvel at the sight of your tits in his palms and how your mouth parts when he kneads them in his hands. 

You wonder if you should feel vulnerable as he proceeds with his inspection, but the precision of his movements keeps you lulled. Dave’s hand slips between your legs and his fingers trace the slick seam of your cunt. You can’t help the whiny groan you respond with as you strain to remain still for him. 

He snickers at your struggle, then makes it worse. “You’re dripping, you know that?” the mocking tone in his voice does something just right to you, “such a needy slut.” Oh. That has your thighs flexing, tightening around his hand as he continues to torture you, parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, drawing circles too slowly. 

“Have to stop myself from bending you over now and fucking you hard and fast.” Your body floods with need at the idea, dripping around his fingers and causing your hips to jerk.

“Please,” you whisper. You figure it’s polite enough. 

"Ah, ah," he warns, pulling back. "I know you’d like that, dirty girl.” 

Yes! You consider spinning around and giving him your best tempting display, hoping he’ll give in, but he seems to be a step ahead. “Lay down. You’ll get what you want.” 

Dave has a wicked gleam in his eyes as you spread out across the bed for him. He’s deliberate when he gets between your legs, spreading them wide and skipping the teasing kisses this time. He drags his tongue from your entrance to your throbbing clit before his plush lips wrap around you. The suction and pressure are dizzying, and you fill the room with panting and moaning. 

Your hips chase his mouth as he uses his tongue expertly, alternating between lazy circles and sharp flicks. The pleasure builds as he works at you. His technique gradually becomes indelicate, using everything he’s got in a way that makes you feel wild. His nose nudges at your clit as he dips further down. He allows you to keep rolling your hips gently as you rock against his chin before he pulls back. 

"Look at you, already unraveling for me," he says, voice drenched in amusement. "So desperate. She wants it all, hm?"

“Yes,” you whine, and your moans keep flowing as the pressure coils tighter within you. 

“Good,” he asserts, “come for me.” It’s a demand that has you gasping when he punctuates it with his fingers plunging inside of you. If you weren’t so enraptured by the growing pleasure and his voice, you might nitpick the logistics of coming on command–but he gives you no room for debate. 

Persuasively compelling your orgasm to hit as his fingers fuck into you and he sucks your clit into his furnace of a mouth. He doesn’t relent. The intensity of his mouth and fingers overwhelms you through the violent flash of pleasure and remains consistent as you writhe and contract, coming back down to earth. 

He's working you back up before you can fully recover or process his praise. Coaxing you toward another peak, capitalizing on his command of your mind and body. Every flick of his tongue pushes you higher until you’re gripping at the bed to stay in place. 

The ache for release teeters on unbearable as Dave’s groan buzzes through you. You tremble, sticking to the sheets with the sweat of desperation. You’re not cognizant of how you’re pleading with Dave, “Yes, yes, yes!”

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he stops, sitting up. 

“Hey!” you’re on edge and disoriented. 

"On your hands and knees," he orders, rougher now. "I’ve had my fill."

Oh shit. 

You scramble to obey, face hot with frustration and need as you arch in presentation for him. His hands spread your cheeks so he can get a good, long look at the sight of your glossy, swollen cunt. 

"That’s good, dirty girl, so eager," he chuckles, lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you deliciously with the slightest stretch. "You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe, the word spilling out before you form a thought.

"That’s what I thought." He pushes inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you wide. He pauses only long enough to feel your walls rippling with contractions around the length of him, confirming his prediction. “Yeah, knew this tight little cunt would take me so well.” 

You can only hum mindlessly in response before he sets a rough pace. Gripping firmly at your hips, he keeps you in place as he drives into you, grunting with the force as his hips smack against your ass, adding more lewd noise to the moans and single-syllable words you cry out. 

You’re slipping away in the feeling of him pounding into you from behind. So mindless as your body bounces off of him that, for a split second, your tortured mind drifts to Joel. Joel’s voice and his filthy mouth, how he always gets you to beg for more.  You tense up, eyes wide, hoping you haven’t said his name in your stupor.  

Mercifully, Dave doesn’t seem to react. He continues at the same pace until his hand slides up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he knocks your legs wider with his, angling you lower and thrusting even deeper inside of you. It’s a sharp, blinding need to come that possesses you. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead between gasping breaths.  

He gives you a slap for that. The sting has your eyes nearly rolling back like a caricature. Dave is launched closer to his own release because of your desperation, your ass jiggling, and his view of his cock disappearing inside of you over and over in time with your moans. 

He gives you exactly what you need as you shift, letting your weight fall into your shoulders so you can snake your hand back to swirl your fingers over your clit with precision, quickly bringing yourself to the peak. You fall apart around him as he grips your hips forcefully, using you as he needs while waves of pleasure debilitate you. 

He doesn’t slow down, pounding into you until his own release verges on crashing into him, and with a low, strained sound, he pulls out. The wet sounds of his fist are drowned out by the groan you both make as you collapse without his support, and he comes across your ass and lower back.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both panting as you come down from the high. Then, with a satisfied hum, he leans down and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your shoulder. "Good girl," he murmurs, a soothing balm after the intensity. And, when he returns with a warm washcloth to clean you up, you feel glowy and drunk in his bed. 

Dave drives you home, at your request, and walks you to your door like a gentleman. He repeats that he would be happy to see you again.

 And he does. 

You both get what you want out of the arrangement. Neither of you wants a relationship and has an interest in an emotional connection. Dave isn’t always available, but he’s communicative and arranges to pick you up once or twice a week when he’s free. 

He always offers to take you for drinks or dinner at his favorite spots. Some nights, you just ask him to take you straight to his perfectly made bed. The nights you desperately need him to fuck Joel’s voice out of your head. 

It works, for the most part, as the weeks pass. Katie rolls her eyes at you when you claim you prefer your weekly dick appointments to a real relationship, but her judgment fades when you give her a juicy detail or two about the things Dave says to you in bed. You’re grateful to have an easy out to redirect her because you don’t feel strong enough to let her see the festering wound in your chest, still refusing to let go of Joel. 

Most days, it’s dull enough to manage. It’s more of a cruel joke when you hear Joel’s voice in your head first thing upon waking. When your phone buzzes and your heart stutters, you laugh bitterly at yourself for thinking it could be that stubborn asshole. It’s never him. You don’t hear from him. You don’t reach out. You consider blocking him altogether but can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t see him on any nights out with Katie. 

You bite your tongue when you see Tommy at another karaoke night. You can’t ask about Joel, nobody knew you had been seeing each other, if that’s what you could even call it. You strategically keep yourself on the opposite end of the table from Tommy, hoping to stay out of earshot if he mentions the man haunting your thoughts. 

But as you drink your feelings one after another, they evolve. Anger swirls as you think of texting Joel and calling him out for being a gutless wonder. You pull out your phone and open your messages, rereading the last text from him. 

Joel: Miss me? 

Out of context, the two words trip you up momentarily. Even though you’ve reread them more times than you’d like to admit. And replayed that night more than you can stand. You don’t type anything to him. Your anger still burns in your gut. 

You attempt to engage with your friends, but it’s all for show. You can’t stop glancing towards Tommy, the door, or your phone. Your anger converts into something you can’t escape. 

After one more drink, your vision keeps getting blurry, not exactly from the booze. 

You try to blink back the tears in your waterline, excusing yourself from the group and dashing for the bathroom. Something messy and hurt and possesses you. Destabilizing you entirely as you feel yourself breaking down.

Weaving between bodies until you’re slamming into a stall and collapsing into a wobbly-limbed mess. Ugly sobs rip through your diaphragm, stirring up the most vulnerable fears and a cruel internal voice. Why are you hung up on someone that treated you like shit? You think it’s what you deserve? You can’t even move on? You still can’t stand up for yourself? 

Someone else enters the bathroom, and you try to hold yourself together, but they catch your sobs and ask if you’re alright. You do your best to assure the stranger that you’re okay. 

“If he makes you feel like that, he ain’t worth it, hon’,” she offers before leaving you with your thoughts in the bathroom. 

You know she meant it to be helpful, but it knocks you deeper into your feelings. You’re upset, and for what? Does he even care? Has he actually thought of you even once? He isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it, and you still can’t stop the tears pathetically streaming down your face. It hurts even worse to know you shouldn’t care. 

You stand up, and your head spins, not just from the emotional agony but from the alcohol. When you not-so-gracefully emerge and see yourself in the mirror, you nearly lock yourself back in the stall and vow to live here now. You can’t return to the table with your eyes that swollen and red and your mascara rubbed away. 

You don’t want to be seen at all. You want to be left in bed to wrestle with your self-esteem and crippling grief over something that never existed. 

You pull out your phone, only dropping it once before sending off your hail Mary, hoping Dave can pick you up. 

Where?

The response is almost instant. You send off the name of the bar and do your best to make yourself look presentable before marching back towards your friends. You give Katie a quick hug from the side, yell-whispering into her ear that Dave is picking you up and you’ll text her tomorrow, before you slip away as quickly as you can manage. Bouncing off the back of a chair on your mission to get outside. 

You lean against the cool brick wall, eyes closed, taking deep breaths of the crisp fall air as you wait for your ride. You can hear the bass from another club across the street and the laughs and shouts from the gaggle of smokers gathered further up the block. You feel syrupy and wrung out, but you aren’t going to be sick. You just need to get home. 

“You alright?” A smooth voice cuts into your thoughts. You jerk your head more dramatically than you intended, taking in Tommy’s concerned brown eyes with a sigh. Of course. 

“Just waiting for my ride,” you do your best to act sober and emotionally stable. Whatever that looks like. 

“I’ll wait with you,” he decides. 

Your shoulders drop. You must not be very convincing. “Really, I’m fine,” you add, leaning your head against the wall. 

“Right,” he steps back but doesn’t leave. He lights a cigarette and allows you the silence as he smokes alongside you. It’s kind, you suppose, not wanting to leave you alone on the street. But he’s the last person you want to be next to right now. Or maybe second to last, you realize when he laughs and steps forward with a wave, drawing your attention to a scene that stops your heart. 

A familiar truck pulls up to the curb in front of you, and you take back your earlier assessment. You feel like you are gonna be sick. Your stomach lurches, and you feel the panic rising in your throat. 

“What are you doing here?” Tommy shouts, “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, like maybe if you keep them closed, you’ll blend in with the wall. 

“Just giving a friend a ride,” Joel responds gruffly from inside his truck. Your plan immediately fails. His voice compels you to look at him. 

Some unspoken fucking sibling communication happens between the two of them, and then Joel is staring at you. Unreadable. “You getting in?” he hollers at you. 

“No,” you mumble barely audible. You clear your throat, feeling hoarse, and try again. “I’m waiting for my ride.” 

“I think it’s here, darlin’,” Tommy says as he steps towards you to usher you towards Joel’s truck. You shrug him off, pulling out your phone to check your messages. To see how long it’s been since you told Dave your location. 

You didn’t. 

You texted Joel. 

You’re mortified. No, no, no. This cannot be real. You didn’t text this hot nightmare. There’s no way he would’ve responded. 

He did. 

Joel: Where? 

You’re still shaking your head and trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’re the architect of your own worst nightmare now. A disaster asking to be rescued by the guy who knows exactly how to twist the knife in your gut. You’re spiraling inwards. 

Completely unaware of the exchange between Joel and Tommy. Or how gone, you look to them. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters at Tommy as he comes round to help you into the truck. “What’d she have?” 

“Hey,” Tommy defends, “I just came outside, and she said she was waitin’ on her ride. I don’t know shit.” 

“Figures,” he’s still grumbling as he shuts the door. You’re in shock as you sit in the cab of Joel’s truck. The only other time you were inside was the night you met. 

“Shit,” you curse at yourself as Joel gets in and pulls away from the curb. 

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything. Just drives in silence. Through every light, all the way across town. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “I didn’t mean to text you.” It hangs in the thick silence. You focus so hard on keeping your breathing steady, tamping down the sobs fighting to break through, that you barely register the tears that stream down your face. 

You hear him sigh before his hand rests on your thigh, “What happened?” he croaks like it hurts to speak.  

You’re reeling at that. Hearing him sigh like you’re a hindrance, like your emotions are a burden like it pains him to ask. You don’t have the clarity of mind to filter yourself. 

“Nothing,” you snap, glaring at his hand. “Don’t pretend like you care,” you dig, refusing to look at him, hot tears still rolling down your cheek. He doesn’t ask again. But he doesn’t pull his hand back, and you don’t move it until he’s shifting into park. 

Against your better judgment, you turn to face him. Your gut twists at the sight of him so close to you. After you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for so long. You can’t read his stoic face or his beautiful dark eyes. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying not to linger on how insane you must seem. Asking for a ride, snapping at him, and then thanking him. You cringe at yourself, trying to swipe the tears under your eyes away like that’ll make you seem more put together. 

You hop out of the cab and take a second to steady yourself. Joel’s door slams as he rounds the front of the truck to steady you. 

“Don’t,” you mutter. He puts an arm around you as if it’s natural, and you still. 

“Baby,” he says, low and soothing, “let me help.” 

Baby. It stirs the stupid butterflies in your stomach until your brain catches up. 

“No,” you shove him away. It’s weak, but he steps back.

“C’mon,” he urges you, “let’s just get you inside.” 

“No,” you still don’t move. Afraid you’ll fall apart if you try. You need him to leave before you come apart. If he touches you, you know you’ll beg him to fuck your pain away. 

“I can’t do it again.” You muster your courage, but when you look at his face, a soft sob finally breaks through, and your body shudders, gasping for a breath, “Please.”

His face darkens. His arms hang limply at his sides before his fists tighten. The street is quiet in the dark. “You think I’m here to fuck you?” 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” it’s a genuine question, but it rings harsh in the night with your uneven breathing. You fumble, dropping your keys when you finally dig them out of your bag, swearing under your breath. He grabs them before you and offers them to you, dropping them into your hand, avoiding your touch. 

You mumble thanks and stalk towards your door. He stays put, watching until you’re inside before he turns to leave. 

……

You get a text from Katie the following morning. 

Katie: Girl, are you alive?

Katie: You wanna tell me why Dave looked an awful lot like Joel?

You: not really. did Tommy say something?

Katie: No?? I was trying to get a glimpse of your man when I saw you getting into Joel’s truck??

You: I texted the wrong number 

Katie: ….

Katie: Uh, unless you’ve got him in your phone as Daddy Joel (real) I don’t think those letters are that close together babe

Katie: WAIT 

Katie: When did you get Joel’s number? He barely talks to anyone! 

Kate: Don’t answer that, I’m coming over and bribing you with a hangover cure bacon egg n’ cheese and you’re telling me everything 

You: and a cold brew? 

Katie: Duh 

…………..

“Fuck,” Joel grumbles when he hears a knock at his door. He knows exactly what this is. He lets Tommy in without a word and tromps back to his kitchen to get another coffee before his interrogation starts. He sits at the table, and levels the darkest “don’t start with me” glare he can, but his idiot brother has always been immune. 

…………….

“What do you mean?” you whine at Katie from your side of the couch. “There’s no use trying to talk to him; he’s emotionally constipated, and he only wants one thing from me.” 

“Maybe there’s more to him,” she suggests vaguely. 

“You were the one telling me to drop him and move on anyway!” you argue like a child. 

“I didn’t know it was him!”

“How does that change anything?” you glare at her. Katie chews at her lip while you devour the last of your breakfast sandwich. It’s cold. You had been so wrapped up in your recollection of the ups and downs of your non-relatioinship with Joel you forgot to finish eating while it was fresh. It feels like a stupid metaphor about how he forgot to take care of yourself when you were drawn into his toxic cycle. 

You thought confessing would reduce the weight on your chest. You weren’t prepared for Katie to add to your delusion. 

“I don’t think it’s really my place to share his… baggage,” she muses. 

“Since when?” you cut her a nasty look. 

“I just think,” she pauses, and you ball up the foil from your sandwich and throw it at her, earning you a glare, “It’s complicated.” 

“Okay, Avril Lavigne,” you mock. “You’re the worst, and this is not helpful! You’ve gotta give me something. Is he married? Am I the mistress? Is he a felon? A drug dealer?” 

“You think I wouldn’t warn you about any of those?” 

“I don’t know. I never thought you’d be taking his side,” you say in a serious tone. 

“I’m not defending him!” She holds up her hands in surrender. “You deserve better than fuckboy behavior from a grown man.” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s just,” he considers her words as your eyes narrow, “it seemed like it meant more than that. You were practically glowing half the summer.” 

“And a lifeless zombie the rest of the time?” 

“A cute zombie?” she shrugs. “I’m serious, though. Do you think he’d show up to rescue anyone else–no questions asked? That fast?” her words get softer.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, draping yourself miserably along the end of the couch, trying not to think about the times Joel bent you over the armrest. “I don’t know him at all, really.” 

“Do you want to?” 

Yes! A naive part of you shouts, hopeful and bright, blind to the reality of your situation. Oh, no. Definitely not. You dropkick that idea right to the back of your mind. Ignoring the way it screams until it’s muffled by the dejected, logical thoughts. “I can’t risk it,” you respond weakly. 

Katie hears it. The ever-resilient part of you that tries to stay one step ahead cracks and lets the vulnerability out. You refuse to worsen the abandonment wound, but it’s entangled in your heart. 

Katie doesn’t bring it up again. She spends the rest of the day with you, ordering takeout and putting on your favorite movies, like you’re going through a breakup. It helps.

…………

Life lulls back into the same routine. Except now, when you wake up, it’s Joel’s face–not his voice–that haunts you. The 

Instead of Joel’s voice haunting you when you wake up–it’s his face. The way he looked hurt. The way he dropped your keys into your hand

when you begged him not to come inside. It sinks like a stone in your stomach that you carry all day as you go through the motions. It feels hollow, but you persist. Your friends lighten the dark fog. Dave’s praise soothes the ache, and he fucks you so hard you can forget almost forget. 

But Joel lurks in your walls, in your skin, and you swear you see his headlights sweep over your living room, but it’s never his truck. At least not in the two weeks since karaoke night. You’ll never understand the trickery that makes misery slow time, but every day has felt bloated and stretched. 

Sick of feeling sick, the following week, when Joel’s face pops up, the second you open your eyes, you curse him. Spite simmers in your bones. If he had something to say, he had all the time in the world to show up and say it. Channeling the malaise into something darker, you let your anger renew your energy. 

All I can fuckin’ think about MY ASS. 

You’re itching for the distraction by the time you’re getting ready for your date with Dave this evening. You know you’re going to be a menace, and it’ll turn him on, which already has you smirking to yourself. You’re almost ready when you hear a knock at your door. You frown, checking the time. Dave’s usually precisely on time, not early. Close enough, you figure, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading for the door. 

You swing it open, ready to see Dave, but your jaw drops when you see Joel. He’s caught off guard by your date night look and hesitates as his eyes sweep over your little black dress. Without a thought you slam the door in his face. 

What the fuck?

He knocks again, loudly, as if you weren’t standing on the other side with your mouth gaping like a fish. But the pounding brings you back to reality. 

You open the door and start before he even has a chance. 

“It’s been three weeks since I last saw you, Miller, and that was an accident! I don’t know how long it was before that, but now you’re gonna show up and ruin another date? I don’t fucking think so. You’ve got five minutes. Spit it out. What are you doing here?” 

He blinks dumbly for a moment. Taken aback by your words and still breathless at seeing you all dolled up for your date. You cross your arms, unimpressed so far. That’s somehow worse. The irritated look on your face makes him want to fuck the attitude out of you. He takes a deep breath, trying to refocus before he starts. 

“You’re right,” his voice is gentler than you remember–It’s criminal really, “I shouldn’t have waited.” He pauses and swallows thickly. Is he nervous? That’s new. “I’m not great with words, and I haven’t given you any reason to give me the time of day. I’m here to apologize.” 

“Go on then.” 

“It wasn’t right of me to run from you–”

“Which time?” you won’t let him get through this easily. Not now. He lets that sink in. The vulnerability makes his eyes shine. You can sense the charge in the air like he might just run right now. 

“Every time,” he admits. “Didn’t think you’d let me back in every time, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. Knew you wanted me too.” You scoff at that. Amused at his approach. You see his shoulders tense before he lets your disapproval roll off of him. “Convinced myself, it was fine, or you’d stop answerin’ the door. Thought it’d be easier–” 

“If I did your dirty work for you?” you accuse sharply. “If it was my responsibility to hold you accountable?” 

“Thought it’d be easier if you hated me, I guess,” he runs his hand over the back of his neck. You stop seeing red and take him in. He smells fresh, like some over-fragranced body wash, his nearly dry hair brushed back. You hate how you feel the urge to soften just at the sight of him. “Figured you’d move on,” he rumbles. 

“Didn’t seem like you wanted me to move on when you crashed my date.” 

“It wasn’t my plan,” he mutters. Right. You raise your eyebrows. “You–you just drive me fuckin’ crazy. I don’t know why. But I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head.”

That makes you smile. His confession willfully given on your front doorstep. In the daylight, without your body seducing his. You drive him crazy. 

Dave’s car pulls up behind Joel’s truck. “Time’s up,” you say, “as much as I really enjoy this 90s romcom-style confession, and I really do, I’ve got a date, and I don’t like to keep my dates waiting.” 

“Right,” Joel takes you in like he might never see you again, “he something serious?” he nods towards Dave’s car. 

“Why, you planning to ask me out?” you’re not afraid to be direct anymore. Nothing to lose. 

“Thought I’d just start with the apology.” 

“Good.” 

“You accept?” 

You laugh loudly, full-chested. It’s a release, but it ends mockingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than this to show you really mean it.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, turning to leave. A wicked idea flashes through your mind as you watch him turn and look past him towards Dave, who is watching you intently. 

“Wait,” you call out, and Joel spins immediately. “I’ll consider your apology tonight on one condition.” He waits to hear more, and your grin sends a shiver down his spine. He’s in for something, and if it’s anything close to what he deserves, it’s gonna hurt. 

…………

You slide into your favorite corner booth, in between Dave and Joel. You admire them both in the dim light. You haven’t been able to keep the nefarious smirk off your face since you proposed your idea. Dave was an easy sell, just as you knew he would be, with minimal questions and clear on the role you wanted him to play. You weren’t surprised that Joel agreed, but you’re skeptical that he’ll be able to keep his cool. 

“You’re coming with us,” you told him like it was a command, “you’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna prove to me that you can behave.” 

He seems to keep it together through your date. He’s quiet, only accepting a drink when you tell him not to be weird. You know the jealousy is screaming beneath the surface. He does his best to rein it in, but when Dave taunts him with sly comments or touches you so freely, you catch his jaw tensing and his hands balling into tight fists, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Dave exudes confidence and control. He relishes in the power dynamic and more so, in how you’re so turned on by having an audience. Dave’s eyes are sharp, catching all of Joel’s discomfort when you giggle when you share a story when he touches you, but worst of all, when you touch Dave. “Dirty girl,” Dave murmurs close to your ear, “you want to give your guest a show before we take him home?” 

Your eyes are bright and shining when you smile at him. You give Joel a once over. He doesn’t look like he will flip the table or smash his fist through it. He glowers at Dave but softens for you, swallowing down the humiliation and washing it down with another drink. 

“Yeah,” you turn back to Dave, “he can take it. What do you have in mind?” 

“I think I dropped something under the table,” Dave’s low voice drips down your spine, and excitement buzzes in your core, “You think you can help me out?” You smile wide as the Cheshire cat before sinking beneath the table. It’s cramped and dark, but you’ve never been more grateful to Dave for reserving his favorite secluded corner spot. 

You wiggle a bit brushing against Joel as you situate yourself between Dave’s legs. The table muffles more of the sound, blending their voices into the sound of the music. You can tell Dave is trying to continue a casual conversation with Joel, and you can tell Joel doesn’t respond with many words. You find it easy enough to tune them out altogether as you focus on your mission, opening Dave’s belt and working quickly to tug at his pants until you can free his thick cock. 

Before you can get your mouth on it, Dave cups your jaw and grabs your attention, “Good girl,” he husks, matching your hungry gaze. “This what you want?” he asks as he grips the base of his cock and angles it towards you. You nod, wetting your lips in anticipation. “Do you want him to watch?” he asks, tilting his head towards Joel. 

You smile again, “Yes.” 

“Come closer,” he directs Joel, “she wants you to watch.” Joel shuffles over, scooting down the curved bench until he can see your face looking up at him. 

“Shit, baby,” Joel hisses, shifting to adjust himself. You see the mix of emotions flickering across his face. You can’t help yourself from holding eye contact with Joel as you slide your tongue down Dave’s length. You keep your eyes on him as you begin to bob your head, taking his cock deeper into your mouth. 

Having their eyes on you, has you squirming. The attention and the dynamics between the three of you has your heart in your cunt. The blazing jealousy in Joel’s eyes eggs you on, working sloppily to please Dave. You moan below them. 

“Look at her,” Dave speaks calmly to Joel, only a hint of strain in his voice as he maintains his composure. “You think another woman could enjoy your cock this much? You think you could find a mouth better than this?” 

“No,” Joel grits through clenched teeth. 

“You think you deserve her?” Dave asks like it’s as meaningless as asking about the weather. 

“No,” he grits again, his eyes shut tightly, waiting for something to pass, before he can continue watching you. You see the torment taking hold, lighting a fire within you that spurs you on. You break the eye contact to take Dave’s cock even deeper. He groans approvingly above you. 

“That’s it,” Dave encourages you with his hand gently wrapping around the back of your head, “just like that, fuck.” He keeps watching you, but his next words are for Joel. “Tell her,” he says, drunk with pride and lust, “tell her what a good girl she is. Think she more than deserves to hear it.” You know your cunt is dripping between your legs at the intensity of your lewd behavior and the control Dave wields over the both of you so effortlessly. 

You shift to watch Joel. He tempers the storm of his frustration and arousal to make sure it sounds honest. So you know he means it.

“That’s good, baby,” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Such a good girl.” Your eyes nearly roll back. You didn’t think it could hit any harder than when Dave praises you, but hearing the words from Joel sends you to another plane. You melt before your determination is renewed, and you’re on a mission to make Dave come. He knows what you want, and his hips tilt, rocking into you as you swallow around him eagerly until he’s groaning again and pulsing against your tongue as he comes. 

The men shift, and the three of you adjust and fix yourselves, respectively, as you return to your seat between them. You’re pleased with yourself but overtaken with the need throbbing in your cunt. You don’t miss Joel’s attempts to adjust himself and squash his own aching desire. It makes your lips curl with a hungry smile. 

Dave pulls you towards him. You’re buzzing so tensely with anticipation that just his grip around your waist brings a whiny moan out of you. He chuckles darkly at your wrecked response. “So worked up just from that, aren’t you?” Dave teases. You hum in agreement, letting your senses be overwhelmed by the scent of both men and their warm bodies on either side of you. “Already soaked and ready to be filled with a cock, hm?” 

“Yes,” you agree, closing your eyes and smiling dreamily. 

“Tell me,” Dave murmurs with a dangerous edge. 

“So wet,” you purr in agreement, but he laughs again. You open your eyes, confused. 

“Was asking him,” Dave tilts your chin towards Joel. You thought your idea of having Joel watch would be punishment enough, but you weren’t prepared for how Dave’s filthy mind works a step ahead of yours. You pull Joel’s hand between your legs. “Check for me,” he orders. 

Joel obeys. His fingers are quick to find your soaked underwear, and he easily dips them beneath the fabric into the pool of slick at your fluttering entrance. “Fuck,” you both curse at the sensation. It’s overwhelming, and you jerk at the intensity of being touched where your body wants contact the most. 

“Fuckin’ soaked,” Joel confirms like it’s painful to say it, “needs it bad.” You think the latter might apply to both of you. 

“You think you can make it all the way home, dirty girl?” Dave teases. You nod, but the whiny sound that comes from your throat as Joel removes his hand says otherwise. Dave considers your needs. “He’s only here to watch, hm?” he confirms. You nod mindlessly. “You think he’d make a nice seat for your ride home? Keep that empty hole full for you?” 

“Oh, shit,” you feel your face heat at the idea, “yes.” 

Joel’s more conflicted than he’s ever felt in his life. He was prepared to fight off his jealousy and tame his anger. He wasn’t prepared to watch you give Dave head in public or for how fucking hard he would get watching. But the most difficult thing to reckon with is the humiliation. More specifically, how every comment from either one of you that further salted his wound made his skin boil but also sent jolts of excitement through his nerves. 

“You think you can keep it together?” Dave challenges Joel. 

“Yes.” 

………………

Joel regrets agreeing before you leave the parking lot, but you couldn’t pay him to go back in time and change his answer. He thought the worst of it was over once you finally settled on top of him, sinking painfully slowly down his cock until your ass was flush with his hips, but you can’t stay still. You tense and contract around him, nearly blinding Joel with the heat of your velvety soft walls choking his shaft. You lean forward, trying to get comfortable, and when the car bounces over a speed bump on the way out of the parking lot, you both groan with pleasure and frustration. 

“You feel better?” Dave asks you as he navigates swiftly back to yours. 

“So full,” you state, desperately fighting the urge to beg Joel to grab your hips and fuck you. You weren’t exactly exaggerating the last time you had sex with Joel when you said you missed his “big fat cock.” Every bump on the road has you biting back moans, and you squirm, trying to find a comfortable position. 

“Please,” Joel’s low voice is strained and ragged, “quit moving.” 

You should’ve had the foresight to realize this wasn’t a punishment for Joel. This was just going to weaken your resolve. You know the second he gets his hands on you, it’s useless. You’re his through and through. You thought you were still pissed off enough that he couldn’t get to you, that Dave’s presence would keep you on track. 

Well, you didn’t really think about it at all. You just felt your knees go weak when, and your cunt do a flip when Dave made the suggestion. You need to make a mental note to show him just how much you appreciate his dirty mind when you get back home. 

You can feel Joel’s growl rumbling through his chest and his thighs tensing beneath you. It’s a vicious cycle. Every sound he makes is like a call and response with your body. Your cunt denounces your orders to stay still and pulses rhythmically, trying to take Joel’s cock deeper on it’s own accord. His breath hitches, and you adjust. 

“Baby,” he rasps, sounding wrecked, “I can’t–fuck–can’t do this if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ tease. His hands wrap around your hips, fingers digging harshly into your flesh in an attempt to keep you still, but the pressure makes you cry out softly. 

“Is your chair complaining?” Dave mocks, and Joel’s cock tenses inside of you. 

“I’m about to complain,” you try to snark, but it comes out needy instead. 

“What do you need, dirty girl?” He asks sincerely. You know it’s not long to get home, but you can’t think straight with Joel’s cock so deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, I…” you wiggle again, causing Joel to grunt behind you, and the noise makes your pussy flex, “I can’t,” you trail off, digging your nails into your palms, trying to steady yourself. You feel pathetic right now, unable to put together a sentence and barely able to keep yourself still. 

“Hey,” Dave coos gently, seeing the pained expression on your face. “You decide what you want. Your rules. You want him to touch you?” 

“Mmm,” you groan loudly with want, “please, please, please.” 

Joel doesn’t hesitate, hands searching immediately and yanking you closer as he gropes at your body. The freedom to move gives him power over his urges, more control than either of you expected. His breath is hot against your neck before his voice, gravelly and dark, vibrates just behind your ear, “Missed hearing you beg for me.” 

Your head lolls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open. You moan in sync as his hands wrap around your body, slipping under the top and bottom of your dress at the same time. You’re pinned, back against his firm chest, as one hand pinches at your hard nipple and the other taps at your clit. Your body struggles in his strong arms, unable to bow at the overstimulation of his touch. All you can manage is to rut your hips into him. 

“You desperate to come on my cock again, baby?” he goads you. Feeling confident now that he’s free to run his filthy mouth again. Feeling drunk on your needy noises and the way you writhe for him. He carries on teasing you in his Joel-specific way with his words and his fingers. It’s maddening, and you feel lit up, skin tingling as you’re at his mercy. You can only see blinding light, like you’re inside of a star, as you get closer and closer. 

You’re too incapacitated to realize you’ve made it home, that the car has stopped moving, that Dave has turned to watch you. Joel continues to rasp filth into your ear, but your body spasms in response when Dave begins to encourage you. “That’s right,” Dave coaxes you, “take what you need.” 

You do. Falling headfirst into the rush, broken, gasping, moans ringing through the car. The scent of sex swirling in the air. Your tension snaps, flooding with endorphins, and riding through the waves as you’re fully supported by Joel’s arms and body. 

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, biting down into the curve of your neck to stifle himself. Your cunt still weakly tries to milk his cock as your hips twitch and jerk while you ease back down from your orgasm. You can feel the mess you’ve made. Hot and sopping wet, dripping down Joel’s cock and making you slip against his thighs. You’ve never made such a mess before. 

Joel shudders and tenses beneath you. Lifting you off of him with a familiar grunt. It’s his come leaking out of you. Your head swivels, “that wasn’t for you.” His cocky attitude from minutes earlier is gone; shame washes over him. His curls are no longer tamed like they were when he showed up at your door; one sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling, as he mouths a barely audible apology. 

It’s twisted that it stirs your need to comfort him. Fuck it. You figure the whole evening has been wild enough so far. Plus, he can take some of the emotional whiplash this time. You’re tired of being the one with that look on your face. You can see the taunt dancing on Dave’s tongue; you know he’s ready to cut Joel with vicious words, but he holds them, waiting for your lead. 

It’s an unbelievable position to be in. You aren’t used to feeling like you’ve got the upper hand in the power dynamic like this. Not with Joel. Not with two men that radiate dominance like it’s in their DNA. You’d like to savor the moment, but now that you’re not burning a horny fever, you realize how incredibly impractical it is to sit on top of such a large man inside of the car. You’re all gonna end up with neck cramps if you’re in here another minute. 

Despite dying to know what Dave’s holding back, you have more mercy than him or Joel. Joel, who currently can’t look you in the eye as he stays uncomfortably rigid beneath you, well, except for his spent cock. The thought makes you snort weakly, amused at your own sense of humor. 

You contort in Joel’s lap to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Chin up, Joel,” you lilt. “You can make it up to me. We’re not done yet,” you nod towards Dave who smirks darkly, “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” You open the door and hop out, leaving both men to watch you walk to the door. For the first time since you opened your door tonight, you’re alone long enough to let some nerves start to get to you. 

Your dates don’t follow immediately. They take long enough that you start to spin out in your head. Are you insane for this whole idea? Did you really just crawl under a table to Dave in front of Joel? In public? What the fuck are they talking about without you? You’re impatient now, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, letting the cool night air stream into your living room. 

Then they’re striding towards you. Hungry eyes glinting. Both are intimidatingly gorgeous in their own ways. Dave exudes a slightly detached, effortless, authoritative swagger. It makes you feel special when he gives you his undivided attention. Joel is raw, slightly untethered like he’s always weary from warring with his own demons, but he still wields lethal power. They stalk towards you swiftly, catching your concern as they usher you towards your bedroom with more coordination than you expected. 

The door closes behind you with a soft click, but the tension in the air is heavy, as if someone had slammed it shut. Your room feels smaller with the weight of the situation about to unfold. Dave’s presence behind you makes your pulse quicken; the head of his body and his signature scent surround you. Joel watches, leaning against the door, arms crossed, jaw set, determined restraint weighing on his features. Despite the distance between you, Joel’s presence feels all-consuming. You’re mesmerized by his figure. His arms look even bigger, crossed in front of him, his broad shoulders, his pouty bottom lip, his strong jaw. You feel possessed with the need to …bite him? But, you don’t move. 

Dave’s fingers trace lightly down your spine as you continue to unabashedly ogle Joel, who stiffens at the sight of Dave’s hands slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. He’s unreadable, but the something simmering beneath the forced calm is contextually obvious. Joel’s trying to keep his cool; he doesn’t flinch, but he shifts, unable to remain still while he can only watch. 

Katie always referred to the chair in your room you designated as laundry purgatory as the cuck chair. It was only a joke, but if it isn’t perfect now. You glide across the room, tossing the worn-once sweatshirts and denim into the laundry hamper for future you to sort, offering the seat to Joel. It’s comical how his presence seems so out of place on the thrifted antique parlor chair.

You giggle softly as you spin back toward Dave, eager to find out what his depraved mind is plotting for the rest of the night. Dave’s voice is a low hum as he welcomes you into his arms, “Let’s make sure Joel gets a good look at what he’s missing out on, hm?” You nod, letting Dave arrange you as he pleases. “Pay attention,” he orders Joel, “I’m doing you a favor.” You can hear the devious glee lurking beneath Dave’s controlled tone. Joel’s dark eyes spark with something fierce as they flick to Dave before landing back on you. 

You can feel your pulse beating in your neck—and your cunt—as your chest heaves dramatically as Dave’s hands move over you. His touch is both tender and possessive as he makes a show of removing all of your clothes. It’s exaggerated to eat at Joel, but it works you up just the same. Dave pauses, letting his fingers hover over your nipples, brushing them just enough to make you shiver before kneading your soft tits, making you gasp. 

“You see that?” Dave asks over your shoulder, addressing Joel. “She’s so needy already. All worked up again. How are you going to satisfy her if she needs my cock right after you make her come?” 

You see Joel stiffen, gripping the arms of your chair like he might crush them. He’s still holding on to some semblance of composure, but it’s unraveling. You didn’t expect the dynamic between them to hit you straight in the pussy, but you’re dizzy, humming with anticipation. 

“On the bed, greedy girl,” Dave instructs. You follow without question, crawling onto the mattress, your pulse pounding in your ears. Joel’s eyes are glued to you, devouring every inch of your bare skin. It’s impossible for you to look away from him. His struggle as he works so fucking hard not to show how much he wants you, even though it’s written all over his face, is driving you wild. His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to touch you, to take. 

With your head still turned, locked onto the sight of Joel, your mouth parts in a soft gasp as Dave’s broad hands spread your legs wide, exposing your heated skin to the cool air in the room. You break away from your staring contest to catch the searing heat in Dave’s eyes before he lowers, pausing just before his lips brush against your swollen clit. He doesn’t ease the ache yet, lifting his head and turning to Joel with a smirk. “Come closer. You might learn something,” he challenges smugly. 

You’d roll your eyes at his arrogance, but then he dives in, tongue sliding against your slick cunt with devastating precision. You can only dig your fingers into your sheets as you arch and moan in response to his expert rhythm. With your eyes squeezed shut and your breath coming in uneven, shallow pants, you relax into the sensation coursing through you. 

“Tell him,” Dave hums into your skin, “Tell Joel how good it feels.” 

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Joel’s gaze. The sight of him has you at a loss for words. His face is expressionless, but as always, his eyes betray him. Sharp, hungry, and barely containing the storm inside of him. “So… feels, fuck, feels so good.” 

Joel’s chest rises and falls heavily. Dave’s taunts don’t hurt Joel’s pride, but watching you fall apart for another man twists his gut harshly. You’re so close he could count the beads of sweat forming on your chest. He can taste you and smell you, and it drives him wild. Like a beast, only held back by his hope to have a chance for more. 

Dave chuckles against you, his breath teasing your clit before he wraps his lips around it, sucking hard. The pleasure slams through you, and you cry out, your hips jerking against his mouth. Every nerve ending alight with sensation. You can’t think, only feel.

“She’s so responsive,” Dave gloats.

Joel doesn’t acknowledge the comment. His composure is cracking, the frustration bubbling to the surface. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes stay glued to the place where Dave’s mouth moves over you with expert ease.

But Dave isn’t done with either of you yet. He pulls back from between your legs, his fingers trailing over your slick skin as he moves to stand. His eyes are alight with that dangerous gleam that makes your heart race. “Let’s show Joel what a dirty girl you are for me.”

You’re eager to obey. “How do you want me?” Your voice is breathy and ragged already. It only crosses your mind now that you’re completely naked while they’re still fully dressed. You sit up, reaching for Dave’s belt before he’s answered you. He takes off his shirt while you work diligently to release his cock. “Look at her, Joel,” Dave taunts, his voice thick with pride and adoration for you. “She just wants to be fucked right.” 

Joel swallows hard. The effort it takes to keep himself in check is wavering. He’s burning with the urge to claim you, to show you the meaning of being fucked right, to make you come so hard you forget Dave’s name. His ears ring, tuning Dave out completely, watching you adjust, lying back on your pillows, welcoming Dave between your legs. 

Joel is transfixed. Watching as Dave positions himself between your legs and slides into you with an agonizingly slow thrust. Distantly, he can hear you moaning loudly; he can hear Dave continuing to goad him about how tight you are and how he gives you what you need or whatever else he thinks matters. All Joel can process is the sight of Dave’s cock disappearing inside of you. Over and over and over again. 

A deep, nauseating wave of embarrassment sinks heavily into Joel’s stomach. You wanted to punish him? Like this? It’s too absurd to be a joke, to be a sick prank. It can’t be some kind of trap. You aren’t cruel like that. Worse. He’s trapped between his anger and arousal. Forced to watch as Dave takes you apart, piece by piece. Tortured by his own cock throbbing painfully in response to everything about you. He looks at your face and feels dismantled by your gaze. Hazy and sweet, you’re staring at him, wet lips parted as you gasp shallowly while Dave keeps up his pace. 

Joel’s composure is slipping, his hands flexing before he gives in, trying to readjust. Hoping to find the slightest relief as he palms himself over his jeans. Your brows wrinkle with pleasure, and a breathy “oh, fuck,” slips out of you. Seeing Joel so turned on just from watching you sends you rolling into a warm, vision-blurring climax. 

“I know,” Dave coos in your ear as you catch your breath, “I know.” He’s still murmuring against your neck, but it’s the silent exchange with Joel that makes you smile lazily. You think he figured it out, the power he has over you with just his expressions. That he’s the one that has you breathless. “Tell her,” Dave growls over you. 

“Good girl,” Joel utters hoarsely, mouth dry. He sees the glow wash over you at his words, and it clicks. Finally. Whatever it is between you affects you just as much. His punishment isn’t watching someone else please you, wondering if they really can make you feel better than he can. Wondering if they’ll treat you better. If you’re better off without Joel at all. No. 

It’s knowing they can’t. Knowing you’ve been just as empty without him as he’s been without you. That it’s been his fault. He’s made it worse. You’re all he can fuckin’ think about, and he’s in your head just the same. 

And right now his punishment is to wait this night out. To be vulnerable and reveal the truth. The desperate desire he has for you. He’s pathetic with it, honestly. He’ll sit here all night, show you how hard you make him, tell you how badly he wants you, describe how perfect you are, anything. It starts to pour out of him as his jealousy and anger recede. “So good, baby, you look beautiful, like a dream,” Joel’s voice is filled with earnest wonder. You beam, your eyelids heavy with lust as Joel continues. “I want you so bad it hurts. You’ve got me losing my fuckin’ mind.” 

“That’s a start,” Dave commends Joel before he shifts, pulling out and flipping you onto your hands and knees. You can hear Joel cursing under his breath as Dave kneads the plush curves of your ass, spreading you wide and showing off your glossy cunt. “You see that? Perfect, right?” He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond, focused on lining himself up and sliding back inside of you as deep as he can. 

Dave groans along with you as he lights up every nerve within you, and your pussy contracts coaxing him deeper. He pauses when his hips meet your ass, filling you to the hilt before he wraps an arm around you to pull your back flush against his chest. “Look at him,” Dave tilts your head to be sure you can take in Joel’s wrecked expression. “You think he deserves to touch himself while I’m fucking you?” Dave asks, shifting his attention back to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes. 

“No,” you reply, resolute. “He doesn’t deserve it. But I want to watch, so he will.” Dave’s grin widens, reveling in your direct nature. He lowers you, and you adjust, resting your cheek on your pillow so you can watch. “Please, Joel, let me see.” Your begging has the exact effect you wanted on Joel when you hear the throaty groan he makes. 

You squirm involuntarily when you finally get a clear view of Joel’s cock, clenching tightly around Dave’s cock. He hums behind you, muttering about how you’re unreal, and he hopes Joel can handle a woman like you as he slowly drags himself almost completely out of you before snapping his hips brutally, slamming back into you. 

You’re bewitched. The head of Joel’s cock glistens, weeping with precome, enticing, and menacing as his fist strokes slowly along his shaft. You’re salivating at the debauched scene and drenching Dave’s cock as he continues to slowly work you back up. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

“You see that?” Dave asks you, “Look how desperate he is. You think he wants to come?” 

“Yes,” you reply, “fuck, yes.” 

“Ladies first, though, hm?” Dave muses as he picks up his pace, pushing you closer, finding the perfect angle that makes your mind go blank. The pressure builds inside you, and the louder you get, the more Joel starts to fall apart. Your flip between Joel’s eyes and his fist pumping his cock ravenously. For you. All for you. 

That sends you over the edge, wringing all the pleasure out of you, taking Dave with you as he stills against you, cock pulsing hotly inside of you, as your limbs feel weak and you sink into the mattress. You watch as Joel spills over his knuckles, cursing and grunting as he comes, and it makes you giddy. 

Dave kisses your shoulder tenderly, praising you quietly, just for you, before he gets up and, like clockwork, heads to the bathroom to clean up and get you a warm washcloth. You continue to grin loosely, giggling softly, still amused by how out of place Joel looks. You see the fear flit across his face, and a cold, nasty feeling rips through you as you brace for the worst. Cruel words spring up, ready to protect you, but you hold your tongue. You won’t guilt him into staying. You can’t choose for him. 

It’s a painfully long minute. He doesn’t look at you. You try not to shut down. And then Dave is back, ever the gentleman, with warm washcloths for both of you. He checks in with you softly, “What do you need?”

The words stick in your throat. You sit up and force yourself to get them out. It’s barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to Joel.” He looks at you finally, as if you whispering his name snapped him out of a trance. Dave nods. 

“You want me to stay?” Dave asks. You blink at him curiously. Neither of you do sleepovers. You don’t need a bodyguard. You must have it stamped across your forehead like a holiday package: fragile. 

“No.” 

He takes your word for it, redressing and heading out swiftly. Leaving you alone with Joel. 

Unreadable Joel. With no clues in his eyes or his body language. His head follows you, watching as you cross the room to grab a shirt. You honestly wonder if he could disappear in the half a second your vision is obscured while you pull it over your head, but he’s still there. So, you gather your courage and face him head-on. 

“Can we talk?”

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[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 7

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Warnings: Talk of reader taking anti-depressants etc.

Things were … awkward with Liam after that, you were actively trying to avoid him along with everyone else on the race weekend. You were in the car, driving round the formation lap and you really couldn’t be bothered. Your engineer wasn’t communicating with you, you didn’t even know what strategy you guys were going for.

“Y/N, just doesn’t seem with it today does she?” One of the commentators asks looking at you were basically chugging along. Anyone watching would have thought you were in a Williams not a RedBull.

“No Karun I think she’s had a bad weekend all round, with the team and qualifying it’s just not felt like anything’s gone the way she would like” Crofty sighs and all of a sudden Max’s car starts slowing down.

The pack was still quite tight so even though you were 17th it didn’t take long for you to drive past Max’s car, completely out of reflex you stick your middle finger up at him. If this was DNF which it looked like it would be with the smoke coming out the car you now had reason to push.

“And Max Verstappen is OUT. He’s retired from the 2024 Australia Grand Prix” Crofty shouts.

“And what’s this, tension at RedBull, was I seeing that right or did Y/N stick her middle finger up?” Karun says replaying you driving past and from a few angles you can definitely see your middle finger rise spite the gloves being thick.

“I believe she did, I wonder what this means down at RedBull because all of a sudden it’s like Y/N has woken up and she’s off racing. Don’t worry guys, she was just warming up” Crofty says as he watches you go tearing around the corner.

You were picking up pace and in 6 laps you’d got yourself up to P12. A whole new wave of adrenaline washed over you and you were bussing. Your mind was going insane, no time to drink, no time for mistake. This right here was going to be your drive.

You pitted, with your own strategy at the same time as race leader Carlos Sainz, your Red Bull pit stop was also much quicker than his meaning you were released before him. This was great as now he was behind you, you had time to make up.

You looked after your tyres, making sure you kept your corners nice and clean and not bumping any track edges.

You’d eventually gotten yourself up into 6th place, and overtaking Stroll to get into P5 was say, but the gap to Oscar seemed too far.

“Gap to the McLaren?” You asked over radio.

“Which one?” You hear and if you didn’t have a helmet on and everyone could see your facial expression right now they would be laughing.

“What you mean which one? The one in front of me!” You say and some rustling occurs before you get your answer. 2.4 seconds. It was doable with 12 laps left. You overtook him with 6 laps left.

“What a phenomenal overtake from Y/L/N on Piastri and she’s not stoping there as she’s redeeming RedBull for todays race and she’s making sure McLaren aren’t up on that podium today. She’s overtaken Lando Norris and with that Carlos Sainz wins the Australian Grand Prix, Charles Leclerc makes that a 1-2 for Ferrari and Y/N Y/L/N completes the podium, after starting P17 and proving that RedBull need to extend her contract” Crofty screams as the race concludes.

As you pulled up in the podium spot, you sat in the car for a minute a little frazzled from the pushing you’d just done.

It isn’t until Lando comes and taps your helmet lightly that you look up at him with a soft smile, not that he could see it. You pull yourself up out the car and Lando pulls you in for a hug, patting your back before walking off to get weighed. Charles and Carlos come up to you, big grins on their faces.

“You did incredible!” Charles compliments and pulls you in for a hug, you take your helmet and balaclava getting weighed straight away as they both pull you over. You look over your shoulder noticing that none of the Red Bull team are there. It’s a sea of red, which you expected but you thought at least your race engineer and trainer would come along.

Not a Red Bull uniform in sight.

You went up onto the podium alone, a half assed smile on your face and Charles and Carlos were too caught up in celebrating their 1-2 with the mechanic who came up with them to take the Team Award left you spraying open air. You took a chug from the bottle off the the left while Charles and Carlos celebrated before spraying the Ferrari team below, what caught your eye, was in the sea of a red, a blue ad white RB hat. Over a head of blonde hair it was the unmistakable sight of Liam Lawson who was grinning up at you and waving happily.

He’d come to celebrate your podium, he was in fact the only one there celebrating for you. You send I’m a nod, that to Liam, spoke more than 1000 words but he knew from you was just a ‘thank you’ gesture.

You left Australia a little disheartened with the team, not having the energy to get into an argument with the team, Christian or Max. You ended up going back to the UK and staying with your parents for a while.

The worst thing about it all? No-one but Liam had reached out to you after the race. You’d even expected Lando to send you another congrats but no-one messaged you.

You felt so alone and you did the dumbest thing you think you’ve ever done and you went live on instagram. You were sat at your work desk in your spare bedroom in your parents house.

“Hey guys!” You try smile, but it comes out half arsed. Your team hoodie is pulled up over your head, covering your messy and unwashed hair.

“Why have I gone live? Erm, I’m not really too sure, I just come home to my parents and they’ve both gone to work so I’m kind of alone” you answer softly.

“Yeah, so I guess you guys can just hang with me? Ask me some questions, yeah I’d like that” you smile and you notice a comment that kind of shocks you.

“You haven’t seemed happy at all this year? What’s been going on?” You read and sigh.

“Don’t know just been a tough season, but it doesn’t matter we’ve had good results” you explain and loads of people start saying they want ghost back.

“Yeah, sometimes I want ghost back too guys” you sadly laugh, looking down before wiping across your mouth with he cuff of your sleeve.

“Room Tour? I can do that, there isn’t much here because this is y childhood bedroom guys so you can’t laugh at any of the stuff in here okay?” You say, happy that they’ve started to talk about normal topics again. You start to show them round your old room, showing the double bed, with the motorsport posters to the left, everyone in chat laughing over your Jenson Button poster. What you didn’t notice was your medical tube of anti-depressants on the side that got in shot as you were showing an old Grand Tour magazine you had.

‘Pills? Girlie you okay?’

‘Damn is she doping?’

‘Nah she got them meds, love a healthy girlie’

‘Bro no wonder both her and Lando get on so well’

Once you see the comments roll in you try to act as natural as possible but its like people know that your actively avoiding stuff about the pills.

“Okay guys I think that’s all I have time for today. But… I’ll see you next race weekend in Japan.

You got into bed after that curling up, overthinking how you could be so stupid as to not put them away and show them on livestream, while another man was just as shocked as the rest of the livestream viewers.

“Did you know?” Oscar messaged Lando immediately after he checked twitter and TikTok seeing people dig too far into your personal life by zooming in and blowing up the picture of the orange bottle to see the name of the meds.

Sertraline

After a quick google he knew what they were used for.

“No mate and I’m just as worried as you are” Lando replied and now Oscar couldn’t help but feel like he was all to blame for this. Everyone thought he was so calm and mature on track, but with you and the situation you guys faced he was anything but that and he regretted everything he said to you.

But he knew he wasn’t the only thing causing this, you were stronger than that, which is why he needed Lando’s help.

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[elllisaaa]

hi eli!! hope you’re well 💖💖 was hoping you could write husband headcannon for dino? including nsfw hc? 🫣 i know you wrote bf hc dino but i feel like husband hc would hit differently ykno lol tysm!! 💖💖

HUSBAND!CHAN hits different, that's true, because if as your boyfriend he was whipped, now he's a simp and he isn't ashamed of it.

he's so proud that you're his wife that he doesn't even call you by your name anymore, always saying my wife this, my wife that, because he cannot get enough of saying it, knowing that you're his forever brings a smile to his face and a warm feeling in his chest everytime. chan is also a sucker for the way you present him as your husband, and it's like he's never gonna get used to it. even if now that you're married he should trust you even more and feel less possessive because he knows you're his through and through, it gets worse. everytime you're out together, he needs to have his arm wrapped around your waist or your shoulders, showing off to everyone that you're taken, showing off his ring to anyone. even in private, chan is a lot more clingy and touchy (which is surprising because he was already very clingy and touchy before) but now it is necessary for him to be with you all the time, he never lets you go. and now that you're his wife, he can easily take you with him during tours and any event. it allows you to travel too, seeing so many cities and countries you didn't think you would ever visit.

"we're going to berlin next week honey, i'm taking you with me."

chan still feels shy sometimes when you compliment him, but now, he has found some ways to make you blush too. now, he's the one to fluster you most of the time instead. he's the type to retweet the posts saying "goodnight to my wife, fuck everyone else" without feeling any guilt because it's true. he takes the opportunity that he's your husband now to take care of you and spoil you even more. the way he sees it is that he has to be even more worthy of you and not make you regret marrying him. he buys you jewelry, clothes, books, flowers, everything that you want and need, and even what you didn't even asked for, he's always one step ahead of you to make you smile. you would've thought that after so many times, you would've been used to his affection and his tendency to spoil you, but you weren't, and chan loves how you react just like the first day when he gives you something new.

"this necklace is so pretty on you " - "but channie, it was so expensive…" - "don't worry about it my love, i just love to make my gorgeous wife happy."

HUSBAND!CHAN whose sex drive is even higher now that you're fully his, now that you live together.

chan cannot take his hands off you anymore. the day of your wedding was the happiest day of his life, yes, without any doubt. but as the night came to an end paired with the many drinks he had, by the time everyone left, he could hardly holdback from fucking you right there. chan definitely fucked you while you were still wearing your wedding dress and he was still wearing his suit. and then he spoiled you all night, only really falling asleep as the sun rose up through the window. also, during your honeymoon, chan had the same energy going on. he spent so much time in between your thighs because he couldn't get enough of your taste and the way you were his wife now.

"come on honey, please just let me give you one more. you can do that for me right ? my gorgeous wife…"

at first, he was scared that a routine would settle in your intimate times just as it did with your everyday life. and he didn't want things to get boring, so i think chan would probably want to try a lot of new things with you. he asks you to make a list of all the things you wanna try out, and he also makes a list. whenever the two of you have the time and the energy for it, you pick something from your lists to spice things up. you love that chan tries to keep things interesting, but you also do things to surprise him too and he melts down from the inside everytime. a lot of people told him that once you're married, nothing's refreshing anymore, but chan always brags about the fact that he never once got bored with you. there's also a lot of public sex with him once he's your husband, because as i've stated before, he cannot take his hands off you. be that at the fancy restaurant he took you out to, at a birthday party of one of your friends, in the middle of the park you planned your picnic date to. every occasion is worth pushing his dick inside of you.

"fuck, yes, bend over just like that for me. gonna make you scream my name for everyone to hear."

[stuffeddeer]

Dazai has calloused cold hands. Send Ask.

Hcs of Dazai with calloused cold hands | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

cheetozai you’ve done it again,, constantly raising the bar for the rest of us.. or however that video goes (found it)

A shiver runs up your spine. Behind you, Dazai grins mischievously, watching as you tense up and try to move forward and away from his touch. Cold is an understatement - the hands pressed against you are freezing. His touch is a bit rougher than he intends. While the touch itself is gentle, a soft brush over the bare skin of your back from underneath your shirt, the pads of his hands are calloused and rough leaving a slight scratchy feeling across the area.

You huff, turning your head to the side, glaring at him from the corner of your eye. “What are you doing?”

Pouting, Dazai gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “What? My hands are cold…”

“I can tell,” you scoff. “Get off!”

He gasps dramatically, hands still pressed against your back. “My, how cruel! You’d leave me to suffer with cold hands? You’d be so cold as to reject me after asking oh so politely for assistance?”

“Your hands are cold!” You grumble. “And you didn’t ask, you just put your hands under my shirt, weirdo."

needless to say he’s a menace.

Dazai will find any reason to constantly have his hands on you - holding yours, in your pockets, on your leg - to “warm them up” he claims

if you call him out, he’ll just whine and groan about how hard it is to have such cold hands all the time!!!! his body just doesn’t pump blood well enough to maintain decent body temperature :(

outside of using it as an excuse to constantly have his hands on you, he does genuinely struggle - keeping his hands in his pockets or sitting with them under his thighs for heat

and to scare people!!! he’ll just place his hand on Atsushi’s shoulder or grab Kunikida’s bicep when they’re unaware he’s behind them !!! he’s terrible and loves to laugh at others moving away so suddenly and shuddering at his jump scares

but also. the angst . Dazai who is touch starved :( thinking his ability is a curse and how this just further proves he shouldn’t touch anyone :(

and that is why he just grabs onto you at random 🙂‍↕️ so please endure!!! and maybe get him some gloves lol

[delulujuls]

birds of a feather | joost klein

hi, its me again. i know its been a hot minute since i posted here but literally i have no idea when the past month left.

anyway, im alive and i finally got a chance to write something, so here it is. its nothing that i used to post here i guess, but i it means a lot to me. while writing this i remembered all of those dark days that i managed to survive. and i guess, joost himself did too.

please, if you struggle with mental health or you just dont feel good at that moment, i do not recommend to read this. feel free to text me if you need to talk to someone.

remember that you are not alone. you can get trough everything as long as you have you.

je bent sterker dan je denkt

summary: joost is struggling with his mental health, but so do reader. but together its a bit easier to go through storm and its even better to look at the rainbow with someone dear by your side.

warnings: struggling with depression, ed, parents loss

pairing: fem!bff!reader x joost klein

Snow fell throughout the night, so the next morning, all of Leeuwarden woke up under a heavy, white blanket.

However, some didn’t get the chance to wake up because they hadn’t managed to close their eyes at all. One of those people was a girl laying down with open eyes in her dark room.

Despite having no desire, motivation, or strength, after a while she sat up in bed more than an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her aching eyes. It felt as if someone had poured two bags of sand under her eyelids.

Her room was in complete darkness, with only the warm, yellow light from a streetlamp filtering in through the uncovered window. The whole house was silent, and nothing outside suggested that anyone else existed in the world but her. She could hear her tear-stuck eyelashes pulling apart with each blink.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands before finally getting out of bed. She couldn’t afford to skip class; she had already accumulated too many absences recently. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her teacher, who kept repeating the same thing over and over— that she should talk to her parents, that she would call in a psychologist. Just let me live, woman, she thought. Or better yet, let me die.

With a soft groan of displeasure, the girl pulled off her warm sweats and quickly put on an uncomfortably cold shirt and hoodie. The jeans she put on were also unpleasantly cold and stiff. The chill around her cut to the bone.

When she went to the bathroom and turned on the light, she squinted with a grimace. She shuffled over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Nothing surprising stared back at her. Puffy, red eyes from crying, chapped lips, and skin irritated from a runny nose. She sighed and looked down, tying up her hair and turning on the tap, trying to make herself somewhat presentable.

When she finished, she didn’t look much better. The last thing she felt like doing was putting on makeup. A shower from the previous evening was the best she could manage. Before going downstairs, she grabbed her backpack and phone, glancing at the screen. Beside the clock, it was empty. Worried that maybe WhatsApp had failed, she opened the app and clicked on her last conversation. Joost hadn’t replied to her messages since the night before. She sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t go straight home after class.

Not feeling like eating breakfast, she simply put on her shoes, jacket, and left the house. It was even colder outside, so she pulled her hood over her head and wrapped herself in a scarf. She couldn’t wear gloves—how else would she change songs, she thought, putting her tangled earphones in.

Even more snow had fallen than it seemed when looking out the window. It was still early, so the streets were covered in snow. The walk to the bus stop was exhausting. When she finally reached it, she realized she still had plenty of time to spare. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a drag. She pulled out her phone from the other pocket, changed the song, and opened her conversation with Joost again. Nothing had changed.

you could at least read my messages. that way, id know if you were alive 06:50

She typed with frozen fingers, holding the cigarette between her lips. The girl exhaled the smoke and sent the message, glancing at the cracked screen of her phone with faint hope. Nothing.

The phone that received the message vibrated on the bed. Its owner, however, wasn’t there but on the floor. Joost lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus on breathing. Only on breathing. Only on surviving.

He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been lying there. Had he made it through the night, or was it still yesterday, or maybe already tomorrow? On both sides of his head were small, wet spots from the tears that had spilled from his heavy eyelids. He was like a defeated, fallen Gulliver, his tears carving out lakes.

He didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the pain in his back. He didn’t feel how badly his head hurt from crying or the emptiness in his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he last ate something warm, despite his sister and brother's urging, when he last took a shower, or held his phone. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? A few hours ago? Or last month?

If looks could drill holes, there would already be a small but precise one in his ceiling. Only when he heard a knock on the door did he snap out of it. It was morning, and his room was filled with light. He had survived the night.

“I’m heading to work, want a ride to school?” his sister’s voice came from behind the door.

It took him about five seconds to remember how his vocal cords worked.

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Are you planning to stay home?”

Silence. On both sides of the door.

“I don’t want to have your school on my back, okay? You’ll go back to class after the weekend.”

Joost sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

“Thanks, really.”

“There’s breakfast on the table,” he heard her footsteps fade away. “Eat something!”

At that moment, he regained consciousness. With great effort, he managed to sit up and lean his back against the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and clenched his fists in his hair. After a moment, he sighed and looked ahead. The clock on the bedside table showed a few minutes before eight. He hadn’t even heard whether his brother had returned from the night shift. It was as if he’d been in a trance all night, focused only on the passing seconds, taking minute by minute, hour by hour.

When he managed to climb back into bed, he pressed his cheek against the cold pillow and instinctively reached for the phone lying nearby. In the flood of notifications, he noticed more than ten messages from his friend. He felt a pang of guilt.

He swiped and entered their conversation.

you know we can always talk. you dont have to deal with this all on your own 00:21

i know. thanks 00:46

That was the last message he had replied to.

apparently you dont know, because youre doing it again 00:54

you always shut yourself off and dont let anyone in. why cant you understand that you matter to someone? 00:55

you act like youre deliberately torturing yourself, like you purposely want to take on all the fucking pain and show that only you are suffering. surprise, youre not the only one 01:00

im sorry. i didnt mean it like that. its just been hard for me too lately, and im worried about you. i didnt want to say that. im sorry.. 01:12

i want to help you, but i dont know how. how am i supposed to do that if you wont let me? 01:18

i cant imagine losing you, do you understand? 01:19

for fucks sake, theyd bury us together. i couldnt make it without you 01:20

let me help you, please. or at least dont shut me out 04:29

im worried, joost. please reply 13:54

Missed calls x7

you could at least read my messages. as it is, i dont even know if youre alive 06:50

im alive. im sorry 08:01

He replied, staring at the screen. He read her messages several times. He knew he could rely on her, that he mattered to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t accept it. Him? Someone cared about him? Hey, wasn’t he just the funny, slightly chubby kid who always told silly jokes and made everyone laugh? That he had problems? What kind of problems could a teenager like him have?

She, however, knew that Joost had been through a lot. Losing his parents year after year can break anyone, let alone someone like him. Since she had met him in high school, Joost had always seemed like an extrovert, the center of attention, telling the funniest jokes with his booming voice. But beneath the surface, which he had built himself, lay an incredibly sensitive boy with a big heart. He was the kind of person children smiled at, and dogs ran up to for a pet.

Joost was like a gentle giant. He could pretend that nothing bothered him, that dumb jokes or words thrown around in laughter didn’t hurt. But every one of those words or situations lodged itself tightly in his mind like a pack of rats that couldn’t be driven out for anything. It was as if his body lacked the receptors for anger or aggression. He wished everyone he knew well, but the feeling wasn’t always mutual.

When he was younger, not long after his parents died, he was often mocked for being an orphan. The mean comments and jabs were so hurtful that he stopped attending classes. When someone pointed out that he seemed to have put on a bit of weight recently, he went a week eating nothing but apples, drinking water and smoking cigarettes.

Now, even though some time had passed since then, and he had been through several rounds of therapy, he still had periods like this. When all he wanted was to be alone and let the cold embrace of sadness surround him. To rest his head on the bony shoulder of depression and weep bitterly.

But it wasn’t to be, as he suddenly flinched, hearing something hit his bedroom window. He realized he had lost touch with reality again and had been staring at his phone’s dark screen for who knows how long.

Thinking he had misheard, he settled more comfortably on his pillow.

The girl squeezed the snow harder in her hands, forming a snowball. She took aim and threw it at his window again. When Joost replied to her message, she knew she had to seize the moment. She had skipped the last two classes and immediately went to her friend’s house. She wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.

She took aim again and threw another snowball at the window. This time with success, as moments later, she saw Joost looking out.

He wasn’t sure whether to believe his eyes, but his friend tapped her finger on her wrist, signaling that she had been waiting long enough. The corner of Joost’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards, and he quickly went to open the door. He knew that if he didn’t, this psycho would keep throwing snowballs until the window broke, and she’d climb in through the tree. He preferred to avoid that.

He unlocked and opened the door, but before he could say anything, she threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She was cold, and her hair smelled like frost, but she was so alive, so different from the bony arms of depression.

“Don’t do that again,” she mumbled, holding him close.

Joost felt all the air trapped in his lungs release as he closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his cheek on her head.

"You're letting the cold in," he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as the wind blew snowflakes inside. "Come on, get inside."

A few moments later, the two friends were in Joost's room. It was clear that cleaning up was the last thing on his mind. The girl glanced around and silently began picking up the scattered clothes from the floor.

"Please, leave it," Joost groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "I'll do it later."

"If you're not going to help, then go take a shower," she replied, putting the relatively clean clothes back into the closet and setting the dirty ones aside near the door.

"I'll do that later too," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. Only now did he start to feel how utterly exhausted he really was.

"We both know how that will go," she said pointedly, casting a glance his way. He sighed, feeling her gaze on him.

"I'm too tired. I just can't."

The girl hung up his coat and sat next to him. Joost looked at her face. Only now did he notice her puffy, swollen eyes, sunken cheeks despite the rosy flush from the cold, and chapped lips. He recognized the look.

He immediately recalled one of the messages she had sent him. You're not the only one suffering.

"What happened?"

He furrowed his brows and sat up, studying her face carefully. She knew exactly what he meant. Joost saw the same exhaustion in her that she often saw in him.

She sighed and lowered her gaze.

"I haven't been feeling great these past few days. But you probably know what I mean."

This time, it was his turn to lower his gaze. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't need to say anything.

She moved closer and hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Joost desperately hugged her back, holding her in a bear-like grip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a while, still holding her. His voice trembled. "I should be supporting you, but instead, I'm just a burden. It's the only thing I'm good at."

"You're not a burden, Joost," she protested, pulling back slightly to look at him, emphasizing her words. "We should be supporting each other. No one else will understand us better than we understand each other. We're in this together."

At some point during her words, two large tears rolled down Joost's cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands, knowing that those two tears were just the beginning. On top of feeling miserable, guilt now added to the weight. It's not that he was unaware of his friend's struggles with mental health—he knew, just as she knew what he was going through. On most days, both of them were cheerful and lively, the life of the party. But sometimes, for a few days, a week, or even two, their light would go out. Depression was a grim lighthouse keeper.

She hugged him again, holding him tightly. Joost clung to her as if she were a lifeline.

"Everything will be okay," she whispered, stroking his hair.

"Everything will be okay," he echoed. "We'll get through this."

They sat there in silence for an undefined amount of time, wrapped in each other's arms.

"I'm not joking about that shower," she said after a while. "I guarantee you'll feel better."

Joost sighed and pulled away from her, nodding. He stood up and went to his closet, grabbing some clean clothes.

"You don't have to clean up, really," he said, glancing at her one last time before reaching for the door handle.

"And wash your hair too," she replied, standing up and continuing to organize his clothes. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, nodding her head to tell him to go and not to worry about the rest.

"Thank you," he returned her smile and went to take a shower.

When he came back, he looked much better. He also felt better. His room no longer resembled a battlefield. Clothes and trash no longer littered the floor, dirty dishes were gone, and the bed was made. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Joost peeked out of the door and, hearing movement in the kitchen, went downstairs. His friend was putting dishes into the dishwasher.

"This is probably for you," she said, pointing to some sandwiches wrapped up on the counter.

"I doubt I can eat anything," he replied, glancing apologetically at her. After a moment, he wondered if she had eaten. She also had trouble with eating sometimes. "But I'll eat if you eat with me."

"That won't be enough for us."

"I know, but we can make pancakes."

The girl smiled at his suggestion and nodded.

A few moments later, the kitchen filled with the smell of frying pancakes and the sound of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that, after a storm, offers a glimpse of normalcy. Joost flipped the pancakes while his friend sliced fruit they had found in the fridge. The warm atmosphere began to chase away the heavy clouds.

They weren’t alone. Even when they craved solitude, they weren't isolated. They had each other.

The girl unintentionally glanced at her friend, and noticing his damp bangs falling into his eyes, she pushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. Joost smiled at her gesture, unable to help it. She smiled too.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone Can't change the weather, might not be forever But if it's forever, it's even better

Neither of them said it aloud that afternoon, but in the quiet corners of their minds, they both thought how grateful they were to have each other.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

I would like to request Bronya, Seele, Firefly, Candace, Dehya jealous hc for no reason other than because

(Honkai: Star Rail) Bronya, Seele, and Firefly, getting jealous

Do you really need a reason to see a pouting Firefly? Also will do Dehya and Candace another time, for some reason my brain ain't working.

Bronya knows that she shouldn't feel jealous, but something tugs at her heartstrings whenever she sees S/O's focus away from her.

They had been talking to Serval for quite a long time, making her finger tapping against the desk in a slowly increasing manner.

It distracts her from the paperwork long enough to make the guards notice.

(Guard) "Lady Bronya, is everything alright?"

Her gaze shifts away from S/O as she quickly clears her throat.

(Bronya) "All is well. As you were."

S/O's eyes follow Bronya's voice, noticing that her lips were quivering ever so slightly.

Whenever its just the two of them in the room, S/O brushes their hands against her, Bronya jumping at the sudden sensation.

(S/O) "Bronya? Are you okay?"

Bronya opens her mouth to quickly assure them that it was nothing, instead a sigh leaves her lips, shaking her head.

(Bronya) "This may sound foolish but...Have I been giving you enough attention lately?"

It takes a second for S/O to connect the dots before they smile, squeezing her hand tighter.

(S/O) "Ah, I'm sorry, Serval was just telling me something about her concert and the help she needed."

(Bronya) "I-...I see."

S/O's hand gently shifted upwards to her arm before taking Bronya into a hug, one she melted into almost immediately.

(S/O) "Don't worry, my eyes are always only on you, Bronya."

The compliment warmed her cheeks while she leaned into their embrace.

(Bronya) "And mine are always on you..."

Seele just huffs while S/O speaks to Bronya, crossing her arms and impatiently tapping her foot.

(Seele) "Tch, are we gonna speak to the princess all day, S/O? It's freezing out here."

(Bronya) "Oh, my apologies! I did not intend to keep you two for so long. Have fun on your date-"

(Seele) "Yeah yeah, we will-"

Seele drags S/O off while holding onto their arm, her brows furrowed in clear annoyance.

(S/O) "Seele?-"

Before they could finish their sentence, the realization dawned on S/O.

But knowing better than to phrase it outright lest they get probably punched, S/O instead pecked Seele's cheek to fluster her.

Which worked.

(Seele) "H-Hey, what the-?!"

(S/O) "Where do you wanna go now?"

Sighing, Seele just averts her gaze as the blood starts rushing to her cheeks.

(Seele) "...I-I guess I want to grab something to eat."

Firefly doesn't get jealous all that easily, but when she does it's quite a sight to behold.

Not in the sense that she'd get angry or threatens to crush the person S/O is speaking to with her armor-

No, Firefly's cheek puffs out to one side as she begins to pout, crossing her arms.

Not within eyesight of her S/O, but more to herself with the action being subconsciously made.

Firefly tugs on S/O's arm gently, trying to get their attention while still being polite.

S/O quickly excuses themselves and turns to the pouting Stellaron Hunter before them.

(Firefly) "S/O, are you done talking to her?"

S/O chuckled, giving a soft kiss to her nose and flustering her for just a moment.

(S/O) "You look really cute right now."

Firefly's face slowly starts to heat up as she averts her gaze from meeting theirs.

(Firefly) "T-That isn't going to distract me, y'know!"

[coolnighttimetravel]

Yandere Ten Stoneheart cult au x kind reader

CW: yandere themes, possessive and obsessive behavior, kind of suggestive (?).

Imagine an au where you have an issue with the debt. No matter how much you try to make money, you always end up broke. Poor thing, about to get sued by your annoying landlord.

Luckily, IPC noticed your struggle and decided to offer to work for them. You'll get a high payment and be able to pay your bills. All you have to do is to sign a contact and your wish will come true. At first, everything went fine. Untill, you meet with ten stoneheart. Oh, how adorable you are~.

While dating each other, Aventurine and Topaz also fall for you, due to your kindness and caring persona. Since day one, Numby already begins liking you, and later in a few days even becomes attached to you. It warms Jelena's heart so much that's two of you get along so well. Kakavasha feels accepted by you. Just like Topaz, you don't view him as the luck tool, but rather as the person. Every time, when they get injuries, you always stare at them with those adorable concerned eyes. A type of eyes, that's they want you to look only at them. Lately, they've been feeling jealous whenever someone even looks at you. You don't even imagine how much they desire to own you. To hide you somewhere safe and protect you from the cruel world.

Jade is someone you never got along with. Her cunning, sly, and manipulative personality never appealed to you. Yet, Jade has strange feelings towards you. The way you glare at her and coldly reply at her questions, make her attached to you even more. The purple haired women can't stop thinking about you. She wants to know every detail about your life. Your weakness, strength, interest, etc. Jade plans to convince you into making a wish. You can ask her everything you heart desire, but in return, you have to become her personal assistant. Wouldn't it be perfect to put a collar on your pretty neck? Turning you into an obedient pet, who'll do everything for their mistress. She'll assure you that your dependent life will become happy.

Sugilite is intrigued by you as a person. He’s amused how much you want to help people in need. Sugilite hates that you spend so much time with Jelena and Kakavasha. It would be much better if you become his house partner and make meals for him. And as the reward, Sugilite will always spoil you with the delicates. The silver haired guy it's greedy after all, and he'll never want to share what belongs to him.

Obsidian eagers so much to mark you. To bite your bare throat, so everyone knows to whom you'll belong to. The red haired lady would do ANYTHING to have you, even by murdering someone. Every time, when Obsedian think about you, it is usually the two of you bathing in the pomegranate juice. Getting held tight by her, so you'll never escape her grasp. Staying with her for an eternity no matter what!

When you finally realize their unhealthy obsession towards you, you try to end the contact with IPC. You thought you could escape? You poor naive thing. Didn't you read the contact? The one who signs it never escapes from IPC. After all, they'll always turn life into paradise for the miserable people. How can you leave them? If you do, your life will be even worse before joining them. Without IPC, you're not able to survive.

But don't you worry, ten stonehearts will give you another option. Aventurine and Topaz will keep you secure, Jade will make your life richer by depending on her, Sugilite will feed you even more than in your entire life, and Obsidian, well there are secrets that she still keeps for the surprise… Sooner or later, you'll realize that you will be much better under their wings. After all, they'll turn your life into eternal bliss.

I might make it into the series and add other characters, once we'll know more about them. I will write platonic for Opal, though. If you're not shy, you're welcome to give some ideas. However, I will respond slowly since I'm busy.

[juustokaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 1. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

A/N: This is my first fan fiction I have posted in years! I'm sorry that the beginning might bore you but I'm trying to make the next chapters more interesting. This was more of an introduction than the real story. Also, please, forgive me for my English. It's not exactly immaculate since it isn't my first language. Thank you to everyone who might stumble across this and read!

Word count: 3 207

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

The first time you had been shaking in your boots. The next time you had been shaking as much. And now, hopefully for the last time, you were still shaking. 

“What are you doing here? This is private property,” a relatively old lady opened the door you were standing behind and furrowed her thin brows. 

It was winter, and you were cold already, but the chill that ran down your spine at the woman’s words made you almost visibly shudder. Did she not remember you? 

Your hands inside your mittens squeezed into fists. Anxious tears welled up in your eyes. As usual, you couldn’t handle people being angry or even stern at you. 

You would have probably run away in a couple seconds, but the woman smiled at you suddenly and pushed the door wide open. 

“I’m just joking, dear. I remember you.” 

She was supposed to be a mental health professional but still she dared to joke like that while aware of your struggles. You felt a bit irritated but didn’t dare to show it to her. She didn’t mean to scare you. 

As you stepped inside the house your anxiety levels settled down for a moment. You felt a little more comfortable despite the fusty smell. The room was designed to look inviting and homey probably to make the patients relax. It was kind of like visiting a grandma which made you feel nostalgic. 

“I’m glad you decided to join again,” the woman smiled sincerely as you took off your boots and set them neatly on the shoe rack. 

You nodded, “I’m a bit anxious but eager to receive some help again.” 

It was the third time you had joined a peer support group for people who were suffering from mental health problems. The same woman who was in front of you had held it every time. You thought she was some kind of therapist but weren’t sure anymore. It was always hard for you to remember the introductions, because your mind was an anxious mess when meeting new people. 

She led you to the familiar room where all the previous support groups had been held too. 

 10 armchairs were placed in a wide circle. Their colors were restrained and mild so that people who had sensory issues wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. Well, they would probably feel uncomfortable here anyways due to other reasons, but it wouldn’t feel as insufferable as it could if the chairs were all bright, neon version colors of rainbow. 

The lighting was comforting and warm, a stark contrast to the cold lights of a hospital. 

As you were taking in the feelings of the room, the woman started speaking. 

“Uh, I have to tell you something,” she started, sounding apologetic, “All the other group members are new. None of them have been here before.” 

“Oh. Are any of them aggressive?” you asked nervously. 

The information that you hadn’t met any of the other patients stressed you out. What if one of them was aggressive and attacked you? 

“You worry too much, Y/N. They’re as stable and gentle as little lambs.” 

“If they were stable, they wouldn’t be in this group.” 

The woman chuckled a bit, her dimples showing as the corners of her lips rose in amusement. 

“Trust me. Everyone is kind and calm,” the woman assured you. 

Suddenly a man barged in and declared, “I have arrived! Get ready for trouble!”  

Your heart almost stopped and a fight-or-flight response was close to being activated. But after the initial scare he gave you settled down, you stared at the man with surprise and nervousness. 

Despite his attention-demanding entrance, his looks were a little less extra. He was really handsome though. He had black hair and casual clothes but your attention was caught by his mischievous dark brown eyes and a little mole under his eye. 

“What’s your name?” the man noticed your staring and rushed to you before you could run away. 

You barely remembered your name when the man was suddenly in front of you, a bit too close to your liking. Somehow you managed to mutter out your name to him. 

“Ah, Y/N. I’m Wooyoung,” the man introduced himself, “You have beautiful eyes.” 

If you didn’t forget how to speak when Wooyoung asked your name, you definitely did now. How were you supposed to answer when a stranger complimented your eyes out of the blue? 

Wooyoung continued inspecting your face and expressions intently. 

“Thank you... You have very... interesting eyes as well,” you smiled sheepishly. 

“That sounds almost like an insult,” Wooyoung pouted, “Aren’t my eyes beautiful too?” 

Oh no. Did Wooyoung think you didn’t think of his eyes as beautiful? 

“No, no! I mean yes, your eyes are beautiful. I just didn’t want to sound like a creep by complimenting you too much.” 

Wooyoung grinned at you, “Don’t worry. I know what you meant.” 

What was wrong with everyone, joking around like that? You had your first mini heart attack earlier when you thought the woman didn’t recognize you and now Wooyoung made you think you insulted him gravely. 

You took a seat on one of the armchairs. Wooyoung sat down next to you, staying quiet but glancing at you sometimes. Pretty often, to be honest. All of the time, actually. 

The woman started talking with him but you couldn’t focus on listening to their conversation at all. Just fiddling with your fingers nervously as you imagined how the other patients would be like. 

One by one, all of the patients arrived. Two of them were late which irritated you. You just wanted to get this session over with already. 

You didn’t dare to look at anyone but you had noticed to your horror that all of the other patients were men. Maybe they would gang up on you after this session and beat you up. That’s what men did, right? You had read a lot about those kind of things on the internet. 

“Alright kiddos,” the woman started, “My name is Charlotte Abbot, and I welcome you to this peer support group.” 

None of you were “kiddos” anymore but young adults. Charlotte probably just felt a lot older with all those wrinkles on her face. 

She went on and on about how the group works and the importance of confidentiality. A few members of the group didn’t focus at all and were looking around curiously to see who were the people that had joined the group. 

“Who wants to introduce themselves first?” Charlotte asked. 

Wooyoung raised his hand and started talking before Charlotte could give him a permission, “My name is Jung Wooyoung. My favorite color is black. My favorite fruit is strawberry. I like dancing. I like taking photographs. I like cooking. I like-”  

Charlotte interrupted him, “Thank you, Wooyoung. Let’s give everyone a chance to introduce themselves briefly before revealing more.” 

An extraordinarily stylish man raised his hand before he started speaking. 

“I’m Kim Hongjoong. I’m the CEO of my own fashion brand.” 

You almost gasped out loud. No wonder he was so stylish. He looked cool both in appearance and attitude. The look on his face was so focused that you bet he was a hardworking man. 

“My name is Choi San. I am a personal trainer. Nice to meet you all,” a man sitting one seat away from you introduced himself politely. 

You could definitely see that he was a personal trainer. His looks probably distracted all his customers from working out to look at him. 

“Jeong Yunho,” a tall man next to you smiled kindly, “I’m a police officer but I do a lot of volunteering at animal shelters as well.” 

You almost let your heart melt at Yunho’s words but you reminded yourself that he could be lying to make himself look more trustworthy. He could actually be a mastermind criminal who’d lure you into his trap with his promises of playful puppies and cute kittens. 

“Choi Jongho,” another man simply said. 

Everyone waited for him to continue but he stayed silent. 

“That’s it?” Wooyoung asked. 

“Shush, Wooyoung. If Jongho doesn’t want to say anything more yet, he doesn’t have to,” Charlotte reminded gently. 

“Song Mingi. But you can call me Mingi. Or Mingus Dingus,” another tall man chuckled. 

“Mingus... Dingus?” Wooyoung repeated, holding back his laughter. A couple other men in the room snorted too. 

Mingi looked a little offended and explained, “It’s my stage name. I’m a rapper.” 

You wondered what was behind Mingi’s sunglasses. Why did he wear them inside in the first place? Was he trying to hide something else than just his eyes? 

It was clear that none of them were here to hurt you. But all of these new people were making you nervous. No matter how disrespectful of you was it to suspect everyone, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“My name is Park Seonghwa. I like Legos and Star Wars,” a strikingly handsome man smiled sheepishly. 

His interests surprised you with their innocence. One would expect that an adult man with those godly looks would be partying and sleeping with models instead of nerding away with Legos and Star Wars. It was adorable though and made you feel ever so slightly more at ease with him. 

Silence filled the room as everyone was waiting for the next person to introduce themselves. Only the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard. The silence felt uncomfortably long and you started wondering why no-one spoke. 

“Could any of you two introduce yourself?” Charlotte’s voice caught your attention. 

You almost wanted to cry out of embarrassment as you realized you were one of the two who were left, and you had been just sitting there like a fool. It shouldn’t be such a big deal but your ears flushed red nonetheless. 

There was a man who hadn’t introduced himself yet either. His gaze was turned to the floor. As if that wasn’t enough of a sign to tell he was uncomfortable, his body was tense and hands wrapped in front of his stomach as if to protect himself. 

“I’m Y/N. I like...” you paused. Someone could be here to gather information about you or use your information against you in the future. You couldn’t tell them anything too personal. 

“I like dogs,” you finally said. Damn it, that was too personal! Now that psycho police officer could lure you into a dog shelter and torture puppies in front of you just to make you suffer. 

Speak of the devil, Yunho smiled at you, “I like dogs too.” 

You fought the urge to scream and run away. His smile was charming but that was expected from a psychopath. Those kinds of people were good at manipulating. You had read a lot of books about it in order to protect yourself better. 

Nonetheless, you still smiled back nervously. 

“What’s your last name?” San asked. 

To be truthful or not to be: that is the question. You had purposefully left that part out of your introduction because you didn’t want to tell them your last name. What would anyone even do with that information? 

“Brokelsony,” you answered. 

Wooyoung snorted, “That’s not a real name, doofus. You just made that up, didn’t you?” 

You got caught. Your days were numbered now. How could you ever come back after everyone knew you lied to them?  

The way your eyes widened and you clutched the arms of the chair confirmed everyone that you lied. Liar, liar, pants on fire. Except you wanted your whole body to burn, not just your pants. 

“Come on, what’s your real last name?” Mingi insisted. 

Wooyoung joined in with a louder voice, “Yeah, we told our last names too!” 

“What are you so afraid of?” 

You were stressing out, gasping for air and digging for some explanation for your lie but you couldn’t think. All the noise and pressure made you dizzy. 

Suddenly Jongho chimed in, “You two chose to tell your full names out of your own will. It’s not an obligation to reveal your last name, so leave her be.” 

Everyone was shocked more or less. Jongho, who had been so quiet otherwise, had spoken up and defended you. 

He could have been embarrassed or regretful to have all the attention directed to him now but there were no emotions on his face. Only unwavering tranquility was like painted on his whole body. 

You couldn’t have been any more grateful to Jongho for the shift of attention and for being the voice of reason. The least you could do was to send him an appreciative smile so you did that. 

He did not respond to the smile. 

You really hated this day. Being embarrassed wasn’t an unknown experience to you but this felt just straight up humiliating. 

“Well, we have our one last patient. Would you introduce yourself?” Charlotte asked gently. 

It was definitely not a nice feeling for him to be the last one and have all the attention on him, you thought as you looked at the last man left. 

After a few moments he raised his gaze from the floor... only to look at his hands. At least you could see his beautiful face and birth mark a bit better now. 

“Yeosang,” the man spoke. 

Yeosang sounded almost apologetic like he was sorry that he was supposedly wasting everyone’s time by telling his name. You really felt for him. 

“Look what you did, Y/N. He learned not to tell his last name either because of you,” Wooyoung chuckled and received a scolding look from Charlotte in response. 

Charlotte looked around the room, probably taking in everyone’s names, and nodded. 

“You all have different issues like all people do. Even though some of you may have similar experiences or diagnoses, don’t forget that you have your own story to share, no matter how insignificant it may seem.” 

A few people nodded, acknowledging her words. You did too although you did not agree with her statement. 

Your story wasn’t meant to be shared. There wasn’t even anything to share. That’s what you wanted to believe at least. That you were completely healthy and normal, and that nothing bad had ever happened to you. 

“During next week we’ll start opening up more but today it’s time for something more exciting...” Charlotte smiled mysteriously, “Get into groups of three.” 

What was this? A pre-school? You did not want to talk to anyone. This was supposed to be a form of therapy not a blind date! 

You felt your palms sweat in nervousness. Who would you want to be in a group with? Or a better question, who would want to be in a group with you?  

The stress of realizing that probably no-one would agree to be with you made your chest tighten up. You cursed Charlotte in your mind for causing this. 

Every second felt excruciatingly slow but fast at the same time as you saw Hongjoong and Seonghwa already forming a group. You would be the last one left. No-one would let you into their group willingly. 

“Do you want to be in my group?” someone behind you asked like an angel who descended from Heaven to save you from the fate of being left out. 

Once you turned around, you froze. It was the Devil instead. 

Yunho stood there, towering over you, with that smile on his handsome face again. It was suspicious how kind he was.  

“Sure,” you nodded despite your head screaming at you not to. Carefully inspecting his expressions and movements, you decided he would be trustworthy enough now that there were other people in the room with you.  

“Awesome! Let’s go find another groupmate,” Yunho gestured you to follow him. 

So, you did follow him as he walked towards Yeosang who was standing by the wall, looking clueless and lost. 

You felt grateful that Yunho had chosen Yeosang out of everyone left because he seemed like the least aggressive person there. His arms were muscular but you wanted to believe he wouldn’t use them for anything else than carrying heavy grocery bags for old ladies. 

“Yeosang, do you want to join-” Yunho started but got interrupted by Jongho who had appeared behind you two. 

“Y/N. Join my group.” 

It was enough of a shock already to have Yunho ask you to be in his group, but now that Jongho wanted you in his group as well, you felt lost. 

You probably looked stupid as you were glancing between Yunho and Jongho, trying to figure out the situation, lips slightly apart. 

“No can do, dude. She’s mine... my groupmate, I mean,” Yunho crossed his arms. 

Even Yeosang raised his head to look at the scene with you as Yunho and Jongho started disputing. 

“Although you like dogs, you don’t have to treat her as one,” the shorter man sneered, “You’re not her owner, cop.” 

Yunho furrowed his brows. You thought of him as scary even when he smiled, but now that you saw him getting irritated, you felt horrified. What if he had a gun with him? He was a police officer after all. 

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just want you to find your own groupmates instead of stealing mine.” 

“Why are you so keen on keeping her?” Jongho raised a brow. 

“Why are you so keen on stealing her away from me?”  

Yunho’s question was just the right one to make Jongho silent. 

A slightly irritated expression crossed Jongho’s face but he just shrugged and said, “Don’t ask me.” 

“Who else should I ask then?” Yunho asked, confusion mixed with annoyance in his voice, but he received no response as Jongho just walked away. 

You watched Yunho’s expression from the side while he was still distracted by his own thoughts and emotions. 

His lips were pressed together tightly and ears bright red. It was clear he tried to control himself and his reactions, but you weren’t convinced by his act at all. 

You got to see him properly only when he swiftly turned around to face you. He did not touch you, thank God, but you were still terrified when you saw the look in his brown eyes. The same, usual smile was on his lips as he looked down at you but it was still vastly different. His eyes weren’t warm. His eyes were burning hot, full of fierce fire he had been hiding under the facade of a kind police officer who loved helping animals, and who knows what other lies he had come up with. 

His body towered over yours as he looked at with those eyes that made you want to curl up into a small ball and defend yourself like a hedgehog. 

But you weren’t a hedgehog and you couldn’t push out spikes to protect yourself as Yunho leaned closer. 

“I’m glad you didn’t run off with Jongho,” he chuckled. 

In the blink of an eye his expression was back to that weirdly cheerful one, as if you had imagined everything. 

Everyone was horrible. You were scared and worried. But you should have expected something like this already, you thought to yourself. 

After all it was just like you told Charlotte: if they were stable, they wouldn’t be in this group. 

[sungstars]

fall off. | pjs x fem!reader

i.e your boyfriend is so shy and you have so much fun making him flustered!

content warning: smut! (18+ only, mdni!!), oral (f. rec), fingering (f. rec), implied dom!sung sorta… established relationship!

word count: 1.6k (not proof read sawri)

author's note: this is entirely based off of that tiktok sound that goes "come here bae come sit next to me come and take ur draws off damn u on the edge of the bed u about to fall off!" i had sososos much fun writing this :3 i love freaky shy jisung! likes & reblogs are very appreciated and i hope u guys enjoy reading this!! also i finished this before the hurricane hits because i have nothing better to do for the next few hours LOL... will try to get some more stuff out over the next few days!

"come sit next to me," you patted the empty space on your bed as you looked across at your boyfriend, jisung, "why are you so nervous?"

jisung was gripping his jeans so hard his knuckles were turning white and ears flushed fiery red, "oh. i'm okay right here. thanks."

his words were coming out very strained and jisung couldn't even bring himself to look at you, "it's really warm in here."

"you are wearing jeans and a hoodie, as well as a long sleeve shirt underneath it," you replied, leaning back against your pillows and extending your legs out, "you could take them off."

jisung's voice got caught in his throat, face turning beet red, "all of it?"

you giggled, poking his side gently with your foot, "sure. make sure you take your underwear off too."

it took everything in you to not bust into laughter at your boyfriend, and it took everything in jisung to try not to implode from embarrassment.

jisung was by no means a virgin, he had a plethora of sex before the two of you started dating. there was just something about you that made him so nervous to be intimate with you.

you had your fair share of make out sessions, always ending up with you in his lap and sucking dark hickeys into his neck, but anytime the two of you tried to do more, he just froze up and couldn't.

of course you never made him feel bad about it. you found it endearing and cute how nervous he was. even when jisung mentioned that he never had this issue before, you didn't get upset. you were so understanding.

"jisung," you sat up on your elbows, "come back to me. you started wondering off in your little world again."

he muttered out a quick sorry, starting to fan his face gently to calm down this heat in his face. you watched him in adoration, smiling because he was just too cute when he was flustered.

however, your head tilted in concern when you saw how far off the bed he was, "sung, you're about to fall off of the bed."

"oh. didn't even notice." he scratched the back of his head, adjusting his positioning on the bed, leaning against the wall, "sorry."

the two of you fell into a silence, comfortable for you, but awkward for jisung. you stretched your legs out to lay across his lap as you rested against the pillows again and closing your eyes.

jisung didn't know what to do or say. he's been in your room before, so he's not sure why he feels so. . . hot. the temperature isn't too high, and he's been in physical contact with you.

he really wants to get more physical, to make you feel good and fall apart from pleasure that he knows he can inflict upon you. there was just. . . something that made him nervous about doing it. maybe he didn't want to disappoint you because unlike other people he's slept with, you are a constant presence in his life.

and also, most of the people he's slept with were drunk freshman year experiences.

he just needed to stop thinking about the what ifs. jisung needed to stop thinking in general, he just needed to do it. he was more than capable of doing these things to you.

"stop thinking." he told himself as he looked at your legs across his lap, drumming his fingers against them, "just do it."

"fuck it, we ball." he squeezed his eyes shut before adjusting himself to stand on his knees, pushing your legs gently to stand between them.

your eyes fluttered open, looking up at your boyfriend who had an unreadable expression on his face, "everything okay, ji?"

jisung nodded, his hands coming up to unzip his hoodie before shrugging it off and tossing it behind him, "y-yeah."

you smiled up at him, gazing at his defined arms before finding his eyes again, "you look handsome."

his cheeks turned a rosy pink which caused him to mentally curse because he just got that hue to leave his face, "you look pretty. you always do."

"what's on your mind?"

with a strong exhale through his nose, jisung pushed all of these nervous thoughts that returned down and pressed his lips against yours.

a surprised noise escaped you, but you brought your arms to wrap around his neck and kissing him back. one of his hands brought your leg to his hip, pressing his growing erection into you and causing you to part your lips slightly.

jisung took his opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and you gently tugged on the nape of his hair. a moan escaped the man above you, causing you to pull on it again to get another noise out of him.

his hands began to wonder between the two of you, starting to travel underneath the material of your camisole, fingers dancing lightly against the expanse of your stomach.

the boy pulled away from you slightly, his lips slightly swollen and eyes full of desire, "can i. . .can i touch you, y/n?"

"of course you can, ji." you said softly, hands rubbing up and down his chest, "you can do whatever you want."

he gently pushed your shirt up until it reached your collarbones, breath hitching when he saw that you weren't wearing a bra.

you watched him for a moment, wondering if he would touch you or get flustered and pull your shirt back down over your tits.

instead, he caught you by surprise and leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth while rolling the other one around between his fingers.

a noise of pleasure escaped you, bringing your hands up to his hair to pull on it once more.

jisung switched between your tits constantly, making sure to show them an equal amount of attention before removing them from his mouth and continuing to kiss down your stomach.

the cold air coming into contact with your now hard nipples caused you to whimper, jisung looking up at you with concern.

"are you okay? should i stop?" he asked, pulling himself up to check on you, which you quickly stopped by pushing his head back down.

"i'm fine, perfect actually," you flashed a reassuring smile at him, "continue, please."

he nodded, beginning to kiss your stomach once more, his hands moving their way up to your shorts.

jisung gently dipped his fingers into your waistband, slowly starting to pull them down to your hips.

his lips followed behind, kissing over the hibiscus tattoo that began to fade after years without a touch up, grazing his teeth over the skin lightly.

“no panties?” he murmured against your skin, biting down harshly, “hah. . . it’s like you planned this.”

you smiled mischeviously at the boy between your thighs, threading your hand through his hair, "wishful thinking."

"don't think," he said in between kisses, pulling your shorts down your thighs and over your ankles, tossing them behind him, "just focus on me."

jisung grabbed one of your legs, adjusting himself before placing your knee over his shoulder and attaching his lips to your inner thighs.

you felt your heartrate pick up, nervous at what was to come next. you talked a big game because you didn't actually think anything would come from teasing jisung.

his lips traveled closer to your core, but instead focused on sucking light marks into your skin. jisung wanted to see how desperate you could get for him, even though he wanted nothing more but to taste.

"ji," you whined out, tugging on his hair harshly, "don't be a fuckin' tease. you were just acting like a virgin who's never even touched a girl before."

annoyance crept up on jisung, rolling his eyes in disbelief. there was no way he was gonna let you talk to him like that when you both know he is far from a virgin.

"talking a lot for somebody who wants to be touched," he muttered back, using two of his fingers to spread your lips open and admiring how glistening your cunt was, "she's practically drooling for him."

your face flushed at how vulgar he was, but oh you were eating it up on the inside. this is exactly what you wanted, jisung to snap and show you how nasty he was under that shy boy exterior, "then do something about it."

jisung ignored your comment, blowing air on you cunt to make you shut up. he was going to get you to beg, no matter how long it took or how much he desired to lick you clean, "ask nicely."

"i'm not asking for shit," you spat, faux irritation escaping you, "we both know you wanna eat it anyway."

you got him there, he couldn't lie. however, he knew what game you were playing, and he decided to give in, "you're right."

a victorious look on your face quickly contorted to one of pleasure when jisung wrapped his plush lips around your clit.

a high pitched whine left your lips when his teeth gently grazed your bundle of nerves before letting his tongue lick down your slit.

your grip in his hair tightened when you felt his tongue move skillfully as he teased your hole with one of his fingers. the one wrapped around your thigh began digging crescents into your skin, the boy between your legs moaning into your cunt.

"fuck ji," you breathed out when his finger slid into you, gently pumping in and out, "fuck it feels so good."

the boy pulled away for a moment, looking up at you with your juices glossing his lips and dripping down his chin, "good because i don't plan on stopping anytime soon."

END

pt. 2 ???

[milfhunter6698]

Under pressure pt6

synopsis: Upon joining the NYC firm as a new associate, you quickly find yourself facing the pressure of working under the firm’s star senior partner, Victoria neuman. With a reputation for excellence and an eye for potential, she was searching for a junior partner who can meet her exacting standards. You, with your impressive credentials and unwavering ambition, seemed like a perfect fit…until the pressure of meeting those high expectations started taking their toll. 

Warnings: 18+ eventual smut, no use of (y/n), cursing, no describing reader’s appearance, explicit language, fluff, angst, teasing, hurt & comfort, power imbalance, slight AU, some similarities to cannon, mentions of the boys characters (Hughie), slight age gap, rival associates, young!reader, older!Victoria, slow-burn, infidelity.

Notes: Happy wednesday everyone how we feeling, new chapter let’s get itt. Loosely proofread because i’m fighting for my life trying to keep my eyes open lmao anyway have fun! also thanks for all the support i’ve been getting on this story so far muah you already know ily guys.

previous chapter

wc: 4k

Excitement filled the air. The firm had finally won a high-profile case that had been looming over them for months. As colleagues mingled and celebrated, you sat alone at a table in the corner, nursing a drink. The clinking glasses and laughter around you felt distant and hollow.

Your recent breakup left you feeling detached, and your frustration with Victoria’s role in your life had only added to your discontent. The moments you kept having, the kisses that neither of you even acknowledged openly made you feel so lost.

Victoria, in her element, was surrounded by colleagues, but her eyes frequently drifted towards you. She noticed your somber demeanor and felt a pang of concern. As the evening wore on, she approached you, a warm smile on her face.

“Congratulations on the win,” She said, her tone light, but there was a hint of something deeper in her eyes.

You barely looked up. “Thanks,” replying curtly, you took a sip of your drink. The bitterness of the alcohol mirroring your mood.

Her smile faltered. “You don’t seem very celebratory. Everything alright?”

You set down your glass, frustration boiling within. Under the influence of alcohol, you felt braver than usual. “How can you act like everything’s normal? You barge into my life, complicate everything, and now everything’s a mess. How am I-… I supposed to j-..ust ignore that?”

Victoria’s eyes widened in surprise she let out a nervous laugh. “What—”

“No, you don’t. You don’t get to act like nothing’s wrong,” You continued, your voice rising. “I don’t even know if you’re the reason for m’breakup or..or.. just a part of it, but y-..you.. have no idea how much you’ve messed with my head.” you slurred, taking a swing of your drink.

She took a step back, hurt and confused. “Wait hold on— I didn’t… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to cause you any pain.”

Your chest tightened, and you stood abruptly, your hand brushing past her as your shoulders bumped. "I need some fresh air." You left the bar, escaping the hum and buzz of the celebration.

Stepping out into the night, the city embraced you, the cool air wrapping around you like a blanket. “Hey wait up!” Victoria called out, “I didn’t know,” she said quietly. “Let’s talk about this.”

You heard her voice echoing through the night, though you didn’t turn, she caught up and stopped a few feet away from you, her presence soothing despite the tension. Your steps pausing when her hand landed gently on your shoulder, urging you to turn around and face her.

“I didn’t mean to be a complication. But I can’t deny how I feel. This is hard for me too you know…” She reached out, her hand gently cupping your jaw. “I’ve liked you from the moment you walked into the firm.” Her words were sincere, and the vulnerability in her eyes made your heart ache.

Your foreheads pressed against each other, your breath caught as you noticed how much you actually wanted her close. The warmth of her body against yours, the softness of her skin, brought you a sense of comfort and peace you hadn’t felt in a really long time.

You tried to pull away, to make it stop but you found it difficult to resist the closeness. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s…driving me crazy.” she confessed in a near-whisper, her eyes drifting shut.

Your throat constricted, and your heart pounded against your chest. "I don't even know what to say," you breathed, hardly audible as you nuzzled your nose into her cheek.

Victoria's voice was soft, yet assertive. The thick, charged air hung heavily, her trembling lips parting, "Just... be honest with me. What do you want?" You gulped, the words swirling in your head before you finally stammered, "I... I want you, Victoria."

For a moment, she stepped back, heart raced wildly, every nerve buzzing as you awaited her response. Your eyelids fluttering open meeting her gaze. Then, she moved towards you again, unable to contain her feelings any longer, she leaned in, your lips crashing together in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Time stopped as her lips devoured yours, stealing your breath in the most exhilarating way. Her firm grip around your waist tugged you closer, you reached up, gripping a handful of her soft hair, pulling her in while eagerly welcoming her touch. You held her close, clinging to her like a drowning man grasping for a lifesaver.

You groaned as you woke up to the sound of something vibrating against your hip. Your phone buzzed incessantly in your pocket, dragging you out of a deep, disoriented sleep. You shifted, trying to get comfortable, only to feel the ground beneath you. Wait… the ground?

With a sudden jolt, you realized you weren’t on the bed. You were instead on the floor, tangled in your blanket, half on the couch, half sprawled on the living room rug. Your head pounded, and you blinked in confusion as memories from the night before filtered back.

“Damn it,” you muttered, realizing you’d fallen asleep on the couch after downing one too many drinks at the celebration.

Your phone buzzed again, and you fumbled for it. It was already late—later than you’d ever intended to wake up. “Ugh, perfect start to the day,” you grumbled, throwing on some clothes as you dashed out the door.

By the time you stumbled into the firm, you were in rough shape. Your hair was a mess, your shirt half-tucked, and your eyes half-open. As you hurried down the hallway toward your desk, Hughie spotted you and couldn’t resist. “Whoa looks like you just crawled out of a dumpster,” He said with a snicker. “Rough night?”

You shot him a half-hearted glare, still rubbing your temples. “Not in the mood, Hughie.”

“Oh, come on. You look like you lost a fight with a tequila bottle,” He continued, laughing at his own joke. “Did you forget the firm’s rule about handling hangovers? ‘Fake it till you make it,’ ”

You ignored him, not willing to engage, and trudged toward your desk, hoping to make it through the day unnoticed. But that hope vanished when your phone buzzed with a message from Victoria. ‘My office. Now.’

Great, just what you needed.

You strode down the hallway, steeling yourself for another one of Victoria’s sharp critiques. When you stepped inside her office, she was sitting at her desk, paperwork in hand. Without looking up, she said “Rough morning?”

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped short when she glanced up at you. There was a hint of amusement in her eyes—something you weren’t expecting. Usually, she’d tear into you for showing up in this state, but instead, she just shook her head with a barely-contained smile.

“You look like death warmed over,” she commented, a slight laugh escaping her lips. Oh okay? thanks.. You rubbed the back of your neck, trying to play it off. “Yeah, I might have had one too many last night.”

“I can see that,” she replied, smirking. “Lucky for you, I’m in a good mood today.”

You raised an eyebrow, still waiting for the reprimand that was surely coming. But instead she leaned back in her chair, her expression softening for just a moment.

“Go freshen up. I’ve got a new case for you to handle, and I need you at your best,” she said, gesturing toward the door. “You’re not getting off easy just because you’re hungover.”

You gave her a sheepish nod. “Right. I’ll… I’ll get it together.” As you turned to leave, her voice followed you. Pausing, you glanced back over your shoulder.

“Next time, maybe lay off the tequila.”

You shook your head fighting back a smile, as you hurried to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face in a desperate attempt to wake up. As you stared at your reflection, you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The pounding in your head was still there, but at least Victoria hadn’t ripped into you. That was a win, right?

By the time you returned to your desk, Hughie was still hanging around, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “You live to fight another day, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you wryly replied, "Unfortunately, yes."

He stepped closer, his stupid grin unmoving. "Well, at least you're not fired. Small victories."

You let out a deep exasperated breath, shaking your head, fingers tapping impatiently against the keyboard. "Can you just let me work, will you?"

His grin widened, raising his arms in a mock surrender. "Don't let me stop you." With that, he finally left storming off down the hallway.

It was an early—afternoon, now with your head a little clearer and some coffee in your system, you dove into the case Victoria had assigned you with. Staring down at the files she’d tossed onto your desk earlier that morning.

The case involved a shady luxury real estate developer suspected of embezzling millions, and conducting some “off the books” transactions. The firm needed someone to gather intel, and for some reason, she had chosen you to go undercover—with her, you of all people.

The sun shone brightly as you adjusted your blazer, standing outside the grand apartment building in Manhattan’s Upper East Side. You glanced over at Victoria, who was effortlessly playing the part of your upscale, your sophisticated “Wife.”She looked stunning, as usual, in a chic, tailored outfit that screamed elegance. The glint in her eyes suggested she was already a step ahead of you.

The plan was simple enough: pose as a married couple looking for a luxury apartment in an upscale building. You would snoop around, strike up casual conversations with the real estate agents, and see what you could uncover. Seemed straightforward… right? Except… playing pretend with Victoria wasn’t exactly something you’d been prepared for.

“Well, Ms. Adams,” Victoria said in a playful tone, slipping her arm through yours. “Shall we see if this place is up to our standards?”

You smirked, your nerves only slightly getting the better of you. “Let’s hope the kitchen has an island. You know how I can’t live without one.”

She chuckled softly as you made your way inside the pristine lobby. You were greeted by a sharply dressed agent, who led you through the gleaming corridors, talking up the amenities of the building. you felt a small jolt of tension every time Victoria’s arm brushed against yours.

Inside the apartment, you played your roles seamlessly. She wandered around with the air of a woman used to luxury, commenting on the layout while you made subtle inquiries about the building’s other residents, dropping casual hints to pry for information. But as much as you tried to focus on the case, you found your mind wandering to how convincingVictoria was as your partner.

At one point, she turned to you with a playful grin. “What do you think, darling? Does this place scream ‘home sweet home’?”

Darling..

You chuckled nervously, trying to stay in character. “It’s perfect… but we might need more closet space. You know how you can never resist buying another pair of shoes.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “Oh, I think we’ll manage. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of room to grow.”

There was a subtle, almost flirtatious tension in her words, and for a split second, your mind went blank. You quickly recovered, though the blush creeping up your neck was harder to hide. The agent, oblivious to the undercurrent between you, continued his tour.

As you finally left the building, you felt your pulse quicken. You shot a sidelong glance at Victoria, still trying to figure out what had just unraveled between you during the tour. “Is it just me,” you started, hesitating for a moment, “or did we get a little too into character back there?”

She looked at you with a bemused expression. “What’s the matter? I thought you enjoyed playing house.”

“Playing house?” You repeated, your brow furrowing as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. “You were practically flirting in there.”

Her lips twitched with amusement, her eyes glinting. “We’re supposed to be a married couple, aren’t we? It’s called method acting.” She winked at you playfully, and you found yourself momentarily speechless.

“Method acting, right,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “You were really committed.”

Victoria shot you a sideways glance, an impish smile playing on her lips. “You weren’t so bad yourself. If this lawyer thing doesn’t work out, we can always give Hollywood a try.”

You scoffed, still flustered. Before you could respond, a cab pulled up, and Victoria slid in gracefully, motioning for you to follow. You were still trying to process what had happened inside the building when she quipped, “By the way, you might want to work on your romantic banter. You nearly broke character back there.”

You stared at her, momentarily caught off guard, before letting out a soft laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind next time we’re… married.”

She smirked, settling back into the seat as the cab began to move. “Good. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass me.”

As the cab weaved through traffic, you glanced out the window, still feeling the lingering tension between you. The case was far from over, and yet your mind wasn’t entirely on the mission. She had a way of throwing you off balance—making you question things you’d never even considered. And for your life, you couldn’t figure out why you liked it so much.

The following days blended by seamlessly, and you found yourself standing in front of a mirror in a dimly lit room adjacent to the bar, fixing your hair, you wore a casual, square collar midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly. You know.. just something suitable for posing as the attorney of a notorious criminal, nothing too extreme. You honestly don’t even know how you got to this point but here you are, going undercover was your new thing apparently.

Your hands were slightly shaking, not from fear but from the weight of what’s about to unfold. This was new, something you’ve never thought you’d do. The client you’re meeting tonight isn’t just any dangerous criminal—he’s one of the most famous mob bosses in the city. The firm was using this opportunity to extract critical information about his operations, something the police haven’t been able to do for years.

As you struggled adjusting your dress, Victoria enters the room, clipboard in hand, wearing a confident smirk. She’s there not just as your handler but also to ease your tension. She walks up to you, scanning your outfit with an assessing look.

She steps forward, her fingers brushing the fabric of your dress as she helps you tuck in the wires for the surveillance equipment. Her touch is brief but electric, causing you to stiffen slightly. You tried to focus, but the closeness between you only makes it worse.

“You look like you’re about to argue a case in court, not meet a mob boss. Loosen up.”

Victoria steps even closer, her eyes narrowing as she ensures none of the wires were visible. Your heartbeat quickens as her cool fingers graze your neck.

You spoke half-joking, “Aren’t we supposed to be keeping things low-key? I feel like I’m being wired to take down a casino.”

Victoria chuckled. “You are. But you don’t have to look like it. Try to relax—if you don’t, he’ll sense something’s off the moment he sees you.”

Your eyes darted to Victoria's lips as she spoke, a quiet snicker escaped you. "You're enjoying this way too much," you whispered, barely audible. Your breath caught in your throat as her fingers deftly tucked the wire into the edge of your bra skillfully concealing it.

A moment of silence passed between you, and your gaze locked with hers. Your heart raced, air barely reaching your lungs. She grinned, her lips curving into a teasing smile, “Just making sure you don’t blow our cover. Can’t have you getting arrested for looking suspicious before the real action starts.”

She finishes securing the wire and steps back, giving you one last look-over. There’s another beat of silence as you stood face-to-face. You inhaled sharply, trying to compose yourself before exiting the room.

Before heading into the bar, Victoria explains the stakes again, though you already knew them by heart. The client, Anthony Romano, is the leader of a dangerous criminal organization involved in everything from illegal arms deals to racketeering. His lawyers have been shielding him for years, but now they’ve slipped up.

A recent FBI raid uncovered documents implicating him, and the firm is stepping in under the guise of providing legal support. Your job is to act as his attorney, earn his trust, and get him to reveal information they can use against him.

She continues briefing you, her tone more serious than it was earlier. “Romano’s not stupid. He’s been in this business for decades. One wrong move, one misplaced word, and he’ll know something’s up. The police want him behind bars, but the firm needs him to slip up first.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then we try again. But tonight is our best shot. Just keep him talking about the case—his recent charges, the way the FBI’s closing in. He’s paranoid, and if you feed that paranoia, he might let something slip.”

Victoria gives you a firm look, and you nod, your focus returning, as you straightened up your posture taking in a deep breath.

“Look I trust you…we all do. You’ve got this. And if you get in trouble, I’m right here, listening in. Just keep your cool.” she spoke her tone softening.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one meeting a mob boss.” you smiled wryly.

She chuckles softly, a hint of admiration in her eyes as she steps aside, allowing you to head into the bar.

Once there, you scanned the room. The lighting is dim, the air thick with the scent of expensive whiskey and cigars. Romano isn’t here yet, which gives you a moment to settle at a table, order a drink, and mentally prepare. You adjusted the wire under your dress once more, ensuring everything is in place.

Victoria’s voice crackles softly in your ear through the earpiece. “Martini? Seriously? You know we’re trying to blend in, not stand out, right?”

You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. “You were the one who said to loosen up. Besides, it’s not like Romano’s going to care about my drink order.”

“Just don’t get too comfortable. Remember, you’re a hotshot lawyer, not some secret agent spy.”

You can hear the subtle amusement in her voice, but you stayed focused on the task at hand. Your fingers tap rhythmically on the table, eyes darting to the door every few seconds, waiting for him to arrive.

After a few moments, the bar door swings open, and Anthony Romano walks in. He’s taller than you expected, with a commanding presence that instantly silences the room. Suddenly a wave of anxiety washed through you as his bodyguards flanked him before he made his way toward your table, sitting down across from you with a cold, assessing gaze.

He wastes no time getting to business, his eyes sharp and distrustful. He leans forward, his voice a low growl. “So, you’re the one they sent to fix this mess?” His tone was mocking as his gaze roved over your body.

You nod, keeping your expression neutral, trying to remember all the points Victoria drilled into you earlier. Shifting uncomfortably in your seat, you inhaled a deep breath before responding. “That’s right. I’ve looked over the documents the FBI confiscated—there’s a lot to work with, but it’s going to take some time to find the right approach. We’re going to need to be patient.”

Romano narrows his eyes, his suspicion evident, “Patient? I don’t have time for patience. I need results.”

You felt a bead of sweat forming at the back of your neck, but you don’t let it show. You force a confident smile, channeling your inner courtroom demeanor. “Trust me, you want us to take our time with this. If we rush, we miss things, and that’s how they win. We can make this case go away, but we need to play it smart.”

Just as you were getting into rhythm, Victoria’s voice buzzes in your ear again, dripping with playful sarcasm. “Smooth. Really smooth. Almost had me convinced there.”

You nearly choked on your drink, but you manage to keep a straight face. Romano doesn’t notice, but the brief distraction causes your mind to race. You take another sip, using the drink as an excuse to pause, while Victoria continues her teasing.

“Just try not to smile. He’s not going to confess if you look like you’re having fun.”

Romano, still unaware of the wire, continues talking about the legal mess he’s in, mentioning the FBI raid, the missing documents, and his frustrations with his current legal team. You listen carefully, trying to pull as much information as possible from the conversation while ignoring Victoria’s occasional jabs.

Eventually, he lets slip more than he intended. He casually mentions an associate who “took care of things” during the raid, revealing just enough for the police to move in.

Suddenly, the bar erupts into chaos. Plainclothes officers, previously hidden among the patrons, move in. Romano’s bodyguards react immediately, but they’re outnumbered. His eyes widen as the handcuffs are slapped onto his wrists.

You stood up, watching as Romano gets escorted out, your heart pounding in your chest. You let out a sigh of relief the operation was a success the pressure is gone and Romano is caught, and your part in the case is over— at least for now.

Soon Victoria walks into the bar, her lips curling into a satisfied grin. “You know, you’re not too bad at this, though I didn’t peg you for someone who could talk business and order a martini at the same time.”

You let out a long breath, shaking your head. “I thought I was going to blow it for a second there.”

She steps closer, her teasing tone returning. “Well, you did almost smile in the middle of a confession. But, other than that, you were perfect.”

You frowned, scoffing. "What? how could you even—"

She cut you off, walking away without looking back. "I just know."

You shook your head in amusement, before following her towards the exit. As you stepped outside the bar, the tension finally eases. Casting a glance at her, you notice the shared relief etched on her face.

"Hey listen.. how about we uh, debrief somewhere..." You trailed off, your eyes meeting hers, hints of a smile playing at your lips. "My place? This time, with a proper drink?"

Her eyebrow arches, amusement flickering in her gaze. "A proper drink, huh?" She replies, her eyes sparkling with humor. You watch as a delicate smirk tugs at her lips, making your heart flutter. "Sounds like a plan," she agrees, gesturing for you to lead.

Your own smile widens, and you extend an arm signaling for a cab to pull up, you open the door for Victoria, a thrill coursing through you as you slid in behind her, eager to see how the night would unfold.

[criminal-act7]

Don't mess with my man

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Blk reader

Genre: fluff (for once)

Summary: One day during a case, Spencer gets jealous of some officers flirting with you, so he stepped in to get you. Since then, the BAU team has noticed your closeness and teased you both about your obvious feelings. During a night out, you get jealous when a woman flirts with Spencer, prompting you to step in and claim him as your boyfriend.

Warnings: jealousy, mild possessiveness

Notes: This song is stuck in my head. I also posted this on my K-pop blog, but I took it off real quick.

Spencer stood in the corner, his arms crossed, watching you as you spoke to the two young officers. The way you commanded their attention was effortless, a mix of professionalism and that unique charm of yours that always made people gravitate toward you. You were explaining to them what you did in the BAU, your hands moving expressively as you broke down your role with clarity and confidence. But Spencer could tell—the officers weren’t just listening because they were interested in your work.

They were flirting with you.

And, as usual, you hadn’t noticed.

It had been like this ever since you joined the team. At first, Spencer found your energy irritating. You were too happy, too bubbly, especially for someone working in a unit as serious and grim as the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He couldn't understand how you could be so cheerful when your job involved dealing with the worst of humanity.

But then, he saw you in the field. The first time he saw that shift—how you could still be warm and engaging, yet instantly serious and direct when needed—something shifted in him, too. You weren’t naive. You were strong, and your optimism was a choice, not a weakness.

He hadn’t meant to warm up to you. But you made it impossible not to. You were funny, kind, a good listener. You brought an energy to the team that helped them all, even in the darkest moments. And to top it all off, you were beautiful. But Spencer couldn’t ask you out. He didn’t think you’d be interested in him. Why would you be? You were the life of the party, the person everyone liked, and he… well, he was awkward, introverted, more comfortable with books than people.

Which is why he found himself here, leaning against the wall, trying to pretend he wasn’t watching the officers flirt with you. He clenched his jaw, feeling a knot in his stomach. You deserved better than that. They didn’t even care about what you were saying; they were just focused on how you looked. But Spencer knew you—really knew you—and he liked you for so much more than your appearance.

As he watched, one of the officers laughed a little too loudly at something you said, leaning in closer. Spencer rolled his eyes. They were so obvious.

You, on the other hand, seemed oblivious, smiling politely as you continued your explanation. Spencer knew you weren’t interested—you were always so professional when it came to your work. But it still bugged him. You sat on the desk looking pretty, and you didn’t even realize how pretty you were. Your soft wine colored off the shoulder top, complemented your brown skin with your light blue washed jeans. Your hair was braided up which was usual but this was a fresh this time. Then you wore your glasses they were fake but you liked having a different look to you and Spencer liked it. It was something about your glasses that made you ten times more attractive.

Morgan, ever perceptive, glanced between Spencer and the officers before smirking. "Pretty boy, I know that look," he teased, sidling up to Spencer. "You’re not jealous, are you?"

“What? No,” Spencer replied quickly, pushing his hands into his pockets, trying to keep his face neutral.

Morgan chuckled, clearly not buying it. “So you're just gonna let them flirt with your girl like that?”

Spencer bristled, his voice defensive. "She's not my girl."

Morgan raised an eyebrow and leaned in a little closer. "The way you're eyeing her says otherwise, jealous boy."

"I'm not jealous, and those guys aren't even that good looking," Spencer shot back, a little more heat in his voice than he intended. He looks at the guys again as they say something to make you giggle.

Morgan barked out a laugh, clapping a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. "Wow, you really are jealous. It’s okay, man. Happens to the best of us." Spencer tried to brush it off, but he couldn’t help glancing back at you, still in conversation with the officers. They were standing too close, and their smiles were just a little too wide for Spencer’s liking. He wondered what was so funny? It couldn't had been about the case.

“You know Hotch is gonna round us up soon,” Morgan said, his tone shifting to something more serious, though still playful. “You should go get her, pretty boy.”

Spencer furrowed his brow. "Why do I have to get her?"

Morgan grinned, stepping back toward the other room. “Because I'm not the one sitting in the corner jealous," he sang teasingly, disappearing through the doorway.

Spencer sighed, glancing one last time at you and the officers before pushing himself off the wall. Maybe Morgan was right... but he still wasn't sure if he was ready to admit it.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, his heart pounding a little harder than usual. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he couldn’t just stand there any longer.

"Hey," he interrupted, his voice calm but firm, "we need to wrap up here. We have a briefing in ten."

You turned to him, flashing that bright smile of yours. "Got it, Reid."

The officers seemed disappointed but nodded, glancing at you one last time before walking away. As they left, Spencer stayed by your side, and you gave him a curious look.

"Everything okay?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

Spencer shrugged, trying to act casual. "Yeah, I just... thought it was time to go."

You smiled again, this time softer, more genuine. "Thanks for the rescue. Those two were nice, but I think they were more interested in... other things." You say as Spencer nods at you of course you picked up on their disinterest of the original topic.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Why didn’t you say anything sooner?" you ask him confused as to why didn't he come to get you earlier. Spencer hesitated for a second, unsure of what to say. Then he looked at you, his heart racing, and said, "I didn’t think you'd notice."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the air between you shifted. It was subtle, but it was there. You smiled again, this time more thoughtful. "I always notice you, Spencer." You go into the room taking a seat. Spencer couldn't help but blush at what you said. When he goes in the room Morgan looks at him smugly as he takes a seat next to Emily while you sit in the front next to Rossi. Before he could ask how it went Hotch started talking.

The case was finally wrapped up, and you were just about ready to head back when one of the officers approached you, flashing the same charming smile he’d been using all week. Spencer, standing off to the side, rolled his eyes. Not this again.

The officer started his usual routine, laying it on thick. “You’re really something, you know that? A top-notch agent and, well, very easy on the eyes,” he added with a wink. You were about to say something but the guy cut you off.

Before the guy could even work up to asking for your number, Spencer decided he’d had enough. He walked over, his long strides quickening as the officer’s compliment landed. “Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Spencer said, cutting in smoothly, “but we really need to get going.”

The officer blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Oh, can I just—?”

“Sorry, no time,” Spencer replied quickly. Without giving the officer a chance to recover, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, steering you away from the conversation. “We’ve got a flight to catch.”

You let Spencer guide you, surprised at the sudden shift. Once you were a few paces away, you glanced up at him, an amused smile creeping onto your face.

“Spence, what was that about? You’re acting weird.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice a little too fast. “I mean, we do have a flight, and Hotch is waiting for us. He’s our ride.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Right.” You knew Hotch was still inside talking to the sheriff. Spencer tried to focus on the path ahead, but the warmth of your shoulder under his arm and the way you were looking at him made it hard to concentrate. “What? We do need to go,” he added, but you could hear the slight defensiveness in his voice. You just smiled, not pushing the subject for now, but filing it away for later. Spencer was acting strange—endearing, but definitely strange. And you had a pretty good idea why.

Later on the plane, you were sitting with Emily and J.J., enjoying some much-needed downtime. It didn’t take long for them to start teasing you.

“So,” Emily began with a mischievous grin, “what was up with those two officers back at the precinct?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, how did you know about that?” you asked, glancing between the two of them. You had thought the flirting had gone mostly unnoticed, at least by everyone except you and Spencer.

J.J. laughed, leaning in a little closer. “It was kind of hard not to notice. Those guys were practically hovering around you the entire time.”

“Yeah,” Emily chimed in, “the way they were looking at you? They were definitely interested. Did they give you their numbers?”

You shook your head, smiling at the memory of Spencer’s intervention. “Nope. Spencer got to me before they could. Honestly, I’m glad. I didn’t want to have to turn them down like that. They weren’t my type.”

At that, Emily and J.J. exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter. “Spencer got to you first, huh?” J.J. teased, a knowing gleam in her eye.

“Oh, this is even better than I thought,” Emily added, smirking. “So, did our genius save you, or did you just let him swoop in?”

You felt your face flush. “Come on, it wasn’t like that. He just... helped me out of an awkward situation, that’s all.”

“Right,” Emily said, drawing out the word as if she didn’t believe you for a second. “Sure, just helping you out.”

Their teasing continued, with both of them throwing in playful comments about Spencer’s timing and how convenient it was. Despite your protests, you couldn’t help but smile at the whole situation. Maybe there was more to it than you were willing to admit.

Meanwhile, a few rows up, Spencer was sitting next to Hotch. He had a faint smile on his face, one he didn’t even realize was there. Hotch glanced over, noticing the unusual expression.

“Everything okay?” Hotch asked, a little confused by Spencer’s out-of-character behavior.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, his voice calm but laced with an odd sense of contentment. “Everything’s fine.” Hotch said nothing more, but a flicker of understanding crossed his face. He had a pretty good guess at what was going on but kept it to himself.

Across the aisle, Rossi leaned over to Morgan, who had been watching the whole scene unfold from the start. Morgan smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “My man,” Morgan whispered, nodding toward Spencer with approval.

Spencer, oblivious to all the glances and whispers, sat there quietly. Nothing between you two had really changed, but the way you’d looked at him earlier, and the fact that you’d let him whisk you away from the officers—it felt like the start of something, something... And for now, that was enough.

After the case, the team couldn't help but notice how close you and Spencer had become. Whether it was holding hands absentmindedly or you resting your head on his shoulder during long flights, it seemed like you two were always in sync. To anyone watching, it was obvious that something was going on between you two, but to you and Spencer, you were just friends. Sure, there were feelings simmering beneath the surface, but both of you were oblivious to them.

One day, after a particularly long and exhausting case, Hotch decided the team needed a break. As a reward for all the hard work, he gave everyone the next day off. To celebrate, Emily, Garcia, and Morgan started making plans to go out that night. Morgan, always the social one, immediately turned to Spencer.

“Come on, pretty boy, you should come out with us,” Morgan said, nudging Spencer, who predictably shook his head.

“I don’t really think—” Spencer started, but then he overheard Emily ask you if you were coming along.

“Are you kidding?” you said enthusiastically. “I’ve been dying to go out. I just need to go home and change first, but I’ll meet you guys there.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, but when he saw the excitement on your face, he changed his mind. “Actually… I think I’ll go too.”

Garcia, overhearing this, snickered to herself. “Reid is so whipped,” she whispered, watching the two of you walk ahead together.

Emily, unable to resist, leaned in and quietly shared, “Did you guys notice the other day on the plane to South Dakota? She was holding Spencer’s hand the entire flight, and she didn’t even realize it.”

Morgan grinned, adding, “Oh, and last week? She fixed Spencer’s hair during the briefing, and the guy practically lit up like a Christmas tree.”

As the three of them exchanged knowing looks, you and Spencer, now a few steps ahead, suddenly noticed the group lagging behind. You glanced back and asked, “Hey, what’s going on back there?”

Morgan, Emily, and Garcia immediately straightened up, all of them wearing innocent expressions. “Nothing!” they chorused in unison, clearly hiding something.

You gave them a skeptical look but shrugged it off, turning back to Spencer as the two of you continued chatting. Meanwhile, behind you, the trio exchanged glances, silently agreeing that it was time to take matters into their own hands.

“So, what’s the plan to get those two together?” Emily whispered to Garcia.

“Oh, I have a few ideas,” Garcia replied, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. “They’re halfway there already; they just need a little push.”

Morgan chuckled. “Count me in. Let’s make sure tonight is very interesting.” As you and Spencer unknowingly walked into their plot, you continued to talk about your plans for the night, completely unaware of the matchmaking scheme brewing behind you. For now, you were just looking forward to a fun night out with your friends—and, of course, Spencer, who somehow made every moment feel just a little bit better.

Garcia, Emily, and Morgan waited at the bar, excitement buzzing in the air as they plotted their next move to bring you and Spencer together. Emily had devised a plan, making up an excuse about why Spencer couldn’t ride with them, and it had worked perfectly. You had hesitated at first, unsure about being a bother, but Spencer insisted he wanted to come with you, making you feel a little more at ease.

The three of them settled into a booth, sipping drinks and keeping an eye on the entrance. Emily leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, what’s our game plan for tonight? We need to get them talking more, maybe even dancing.”

Garcia nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely! And we should definitely have Spencer and her sit next to each other when they get here. That’ll give them a chance to get closer.”

Morgan leaned back in his seat, smirking. “You guys are way too obvious. It’s going to be hilarious to watch him squirm.”

Just then, they saw you walk in, and the conversation halted. You looked stunning in a fitted dress that hugged your figure perfectly, and the knee-high boots you wore added a fierce touch. Garcia couldn’t help herself. “Wow, look at her! That dress is incredible!”

“Check out those boots!” Emily added, eyes wide. “She looks amazing.”

Morgan grinned widely, his gaze shifting to Spencer, who was right behind you, taking in the sight of you with an appreciative look. “And look at Spencer. He’s practically checking her out.”

As if on cue, Spencer reached out, wrapping an arm around your waist, and you smiled up at him. “Oh my God, Derek!” Penelope exclaimed, barely containing her excitement.

It wasn’t until you spotted them that Spencer lets go of you as you pulled Spencer over to the table. As you approached the booth, you spotted them and your face lit up. “Hey, guys!” you greeted happily, your voice brightening the atmosphere around the table. “Sorry I’m 30 minutes late!”

“Not a problem at all!” Garcia said, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Morgan chuckled, leaning forward. “We were just getting an eyeful of your fashion choices. You look fantastic!”

“Thanks!” you replied, a little bashfully. “I wanted to look nice for tonight.” You paused, glancing at Spencer, who stood next to you, his expression unreadable.

“Well, it’s working,” Emily said with a wink. “You definitely caught our attention.”

You grinned, appreciating the compliment. “I’ll get the first round. What does everyone want?” you asked, taking out your phone to note their orders.

As you walked away to the bar, Emily, Garcia, and Morgan wasted no time in turning their focus to Spencer.

“So,” Emily started, feigning innocence, “what do you think of her outfit?”

Spencer, caught off guard, stammered, “Uh, it’s…nice.” He quickly looked away, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.

Garcia giggled, nudging him playfully. “Nice? Is that all you’ve got, pretty boy? She looks stunning!”

“Come on, Reid,” Morgan chimed in, a teasing grin on his face. “You’re clearly checking her out. Don’t hide it!”

Spencer sighed, knowing he was trapped. “I just—”

“Just what?” Emily pressed, leaning in closer. “Do you like her or not?”

“I mean, she’s great,” Spencer finally admitted, his voice a mix of admiration and embarrassment. “We’re just friends.”

“Right,” Garcia said, barely containing her laughter. “Friends who hold hands and check each other out.”

“Reid, you’ve got it bad,” Morgan teased, leaning closer. “You can’t even hide it.”

Spencer shrugged, attempting to play it cool, but the flush creeping up his neck gave him away. “I just think she looks great,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Morgan chimed in, pointing at Spencer. “Seriously, man, you were totally checking her out.”

Spencer shook his head, trying to play it cool, but the slightest blush crept into his cheeks. “We just drove here together; it’s not a big deal.”

Emily smirked, leaning in closer. “Not a big deal? You were holding her waist! What happened when you two left? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Spencer replied quickly, trying to keep his tone light. “I just stayed in the car while she changed at the apartment.”

Morgan chimed in, pointing at Spencer with a teasing grin. “Seriously, man, you were totally checking her out.”

Spencer shook his head, trying to play it cool, but the slightest blush crept into his cheeks. “We just drove here together; it’s not a big deal.”

Emily smirked, leaning in closer. “Not a big deal? You were holding her waist! What happened when you two left? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Spencer replied quickly, striving to keep his tone light. “I just stayed in the car while she changed at the apartment.”

“Yeah, and you let her go out in that dress?” Emily shot back, her eyebrow raised.

“I mean, that’s none of my business. We’re not together,” he said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Not yet,” Garcia piped in, her enthusiasm unabated. “But you act like it. Make your move!”

Before Spencer could respond, Emily glanced around, her expression shifting slightly. “Where is Y/N, by the way? She’s been gone for too long getting those drinks.”

The three of them turned their heads toward the bar, and then suddenly caught sight of you on the dance floor. You were laughing and dancing with some girls, completely in your element.

Garcia, eyes sparkling with mischief, nudged Spencer. “You should go get her!”

Spencer hesitated, watching you dance. The way you moved, carefree and joyful, made him smile to himself. He didn’t want to interrupt your fun, but the teasing from his friends was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Come on, don’t just sit there,” Emily said, nudging him again. “You’re missing your chance.”

“Yeah, man, go get your girl!” Morgan chimed in, his voice playful yet encouraging.

Spencer felt the warmth of their gazes on him, urging him to take action. He glanced back at you, laughing and dancing as if the world didn’t exist. Maybe he could just watch a little longer, but as Emily’s teasing began again, he decided he didn’t want to be the wallflower anymore.

“Okay, okay,” Spencer finally relented, standing up from the booth. He took a deep breath, feeling a rush of determination. “I’ll go get her and grab the drinks.”

As he walked toward you, he could feel the weight of his friends’ encouragement behind him, but he also felt a thrill of nerves. This was different. You were different. With each step, he knew he wanted to take that leap, and tonight might just be the night. He continues to watch you dance your body moving to the beat of the song. You were having fun that was clear he admired how much your smile lit his whole world. He didn't want to remind you about the drinks so he went to the bar got the drinks himself and went back to the table.

You were on the dance floor, having the time of your life, but as the music slowed and your feet began to ache, you made your way back to the booth. Emily, Garcia, and Morgan were already there, sipping on their drinks, and that’s when it hit you—you had completely forgotten to bring them their drinks.

"Sorry, guys! I got caught up," you apologized, genuinely feeling bad.

“No worries,” Morgan grinned, glancing over at Garcia. “Spencer took care of the first round. He was supposed to come get you, but you were a little busy dancing.”

You chuckled sheepishly, glancing around the bar. “I’m sorry again. I didn’t realize.” You had to remind yourself to get the next round of drinks and spend two drinks on Spencer. Feeling guilty that he had to pay for drinks you offered to get in the first place.

“Speaking of which,” Emily said, leaning back in her seat with a smirk, “Spencer was supposed to be getting us another round, but he’s taking his sweet time. He’s probably distracted by the blonde at the bar.”

Your gaze snapped to the bar, and sure enough, Spencer was chatting with a tall blonde woman, who was laughing and leaning in a little too close for your comfort. You rolled your eyes, muttering, “She’s Cute,” in a snarky tone crossing your arms. As you eyed her up and down from a distance.

Garcia’s eyes lit up at your reaction, picking up on the jealousy you were trying to hide. “Ooh, look at you,” she teased. “She’s been talking to him for the past 20 minutes. Seems pretty cozy, huh?”

You waved your hand dismissively. “He’s just being nice. That’s how Spencer is.” You say Spencer was a nice guy especially when it came to women. He wasn’t awkward as most people saw him at least not with you. You both were inseparable spending time with each other in and out of work or talking late at night after cases.

Emily, always quick to stir the pot, leaned in closer, her voice playful. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you replied, too quickly. The word came out sharper than you intended, which only made Morgan grin wider.

“Right. You’re not jealous at all,” he said, teasing you further. “Because, you know, you haven’t been clinging to Spencer this whole time or anything. It’s not obvious that you like him.” You tried to laugh it off, but their teasing hit a nerve. You didn’t deny your closeness to Spencer, but you weren’t about to confirm it either. Who wouldn't fall for Spencer? He was nice, smart, caring for his friends you included, and he good looking in your eyes. You especially liked when he spoke his nerdy genius facts, you always liked learning and you soaked up his facts like he was storyteller of facts.

“We’re just friends.” You say as that was the truth despite you wanting to be more. You knew feeling jealous was wrong but if Spencer wanted to date someone it was out of your control.

As the others exchanged knowing looks, you found yourself glancing back at the bar. The blonde was still there, her fingers twirling a strand of hair as she laughed at something Spencer was explaining. Your stomach twisted, and you hated that you felt this way. Spencer wasn’t yours, and he could talk to whoever he wanted. But still… something about it didn’t sit right with you.

Morgan, noticing your silence, nudged you again. “You sure you’re not jealous? Because it kinda looks like you are.”

You straightened up, forcing yourself to stay calm. “She’s a tall, bleach blonde with a 36D cup, and she’s probably pretending to understand whatever Spencer’s talking about. She’s got nothing on me. And besides, the only blondes I like Spencer with are Garcia and J.J.”

Emily and Morgan exchanged a glance, and Garcia practically cackled. They could tell you were trying to downplay your feelings, but your words only revealed how fired up you really were.

It wasn’t until you saw the blonde reach out and touch Spencer—first his arm, then his hair—that you had finally had enough. “You know what? The next round’s on me,” you said, abruptly standing up from the booth.

As you strode toward the bar, Garcia couldn’t contain her excitement. “Oh, this is it. This is the moment!” she squealed, practically bouncing in her seat.

Morgan and Emily high-fived, pleased with how their little mission was playing out. They had been waiting for a moment like this, and now it seemed like you were finally about to act on your feelings.

You didn’t care what anyone thought anymore. Watching that woman touch your Spencer like that ignited something inside you. As you approached the bar, your heart raced, but your steps were confident, purposeful. Spencer might not even realize what was happening, but you knew one thing for sure—you weren’t going to let some random blonde take your place by his side.

You approached the bar quietly, trying to catch the conversation the blonde woman was having with Spencer. She was leaning into him, laughing and commenting on how good he looked for an FBI agent. A wave of possessiveness surged through you, and before you could think twice, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Spencer, caught off guard, glanced up at you, confusion flickering across his face.

“Hey, Spence, did you get the drinks for the others?” you asked, casually resting your chin on his shoulder. The blonde woman looked at you eyeing you like you did her. You swayed back and forth and Spencer as usual let you. To him and you this was normal but you wanted to give her the idea that he was taken.

“Oh yeah, that’s right! I’m sorry, I forgot,” he mumbled.

“No worries, I should’ve gotten the drinks when I had the chance,” you replied sweetly.

The blonde wasn’t done with him though. “Spencer! You were saying?” she interrupted, her voice laced with annoyance as she tried to pull his attention back to her. But it was all on you as you two had your own conversation.

Spencer blinked. “Huh?”

You leaned into him more, almost daring her with your eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” you asked, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Yes—” Heather began, but Spencer quickly cut her off, clearly sensing the rising tension.

“No. Not at all. We were just talking about our jobs at the BAU… Oh, Y/N, this is- uhhh Heather! Her name is Heather,” Spencer introduced her awkwardly, stumbling over his words. You didn’t move from him, still holding onto his shoulders as if to make it clear to Heather that Spencer wasn’t going anywhere.

You eyed her up and down and rolled your eyes. “Heather, huh? Cool name. I'm Y/n ” you said, not bothering to hide your disdain. You reach past Spencer to shake her hand trying not to be rude to Spencer.

Heather’s smile faltered slightly. “You work with Spencer?”

“Oh yeah,” you replied, turning to Spencer with a sweet smile as you ran your hand through his hair, fixing it just how you liked. “We work tons of hours together, we're really...close aren't we, Spence?” you ask looking to him for his answer. Spencer didn’t understand it but he knew you were acting strange. Your tone the way your body language was different.

Spencer nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, we do. Actually, we just got the day off tomorrow!”

You rolled your eyes again, internally groaning. As much as you adored him, he was too polite to recognize that Heather was blatantly flirting. Or maybe he did know but wasn’t sure how to shut it down. Or he could be interested in her but you didn’t let that thought linger any longer.

Heather’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, are you free tomorrow night?”

Before Spencer could even think of answering, you spoke up. “No, he’s not,” you said quickly, your voice firm.

Heather blinked, clearly taken aback. “I was talking to Spencer,” she said, her voice icy.

“And I told you, he’s not free,” you repeated, stepping closer to him, almost in front of him now.

Heather wasn’t giving up so easily. She gently nudged you aside, leaning in closer to Spencer. “Anyway, Spencer, are you free tomorrow?” you felt your body get hotter by the second she spoke. The urge not to hit her when she touched you, as you knew you'd be wrong if you did.

Spencer shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. “I—uh—I mean—”

Before he could finish, you cut in again, your jealousy bubbling over. “He has a girlfriend,” you blurted out, shocking both Spencer and Heather.

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and you could feel his gaze on you. If he didn’t know you were jealous before, he definitely knew now.

Heather crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. “I don’t see her, and he hasn’t mentioned her.”

You stepped forward, standing your ground. “I’m right here.”

Heather’s eyes narrowed as she looked you up and down. “Please. You’re just jealous that Spencer’s interested in me. You don’t have any claim on him just because you work together.” Spencer looked at you wondering what your next move was, you didn't deny that you were jealous not once. Nor did he deny that you were his girlfriend, he could but he didn't want to. He tries not to smile but then he looks back at you as you grew quiet.

You were practically shaking with anger, but her words hit you harder than you expected. She wasn’t entirely wrong—you weren’t Spencer’s girlfriend, and this was starting to feel like a massive embarrassment. But just as your thoughts started to spiral, Spencer stepped in.

“Here are your drinks, miss,” the bartender said, sliding the drinks over to you and Spencer. He thought this was the perfect time to get the two of you away from Heather and back to your friends.

Spencer set the drinks down and took your hand in his, placing his other hand gently on your shoulder. His touch was grounding, and when he spoke, his voice was calm and reassuring. “It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have anything to prove. I’ve got the drinks; let’s head back.” He wanted you to know there was nothing to worry about, he wasn't interested in Heather. Not even attracted to her, as he holds your hand and whispers in your ear how you're here to spend time with friends and have a good time. You smiled, feeling instantly soothed. He knew just what to say to ease your frustration. You look at him and he looks at you with hearts in your eyes like nothing else mattered. And it didn’t. The two of you leave heading over to your friends. But Heather wasn’t done though.

“Spencer, wait—if you’re free tomorrow, call me,” she said, handing him a napkin with her number on it.

Before you could react, Spencer turned and walked back to the bar, trying to give the napkin back. “Look, you seem really nice, and you’re very pretty, but I’m not interested.” You didn't notice Spencer wasn’t by your side at first but Emily and Penelope gave you a look as you turned to see Spencer stuck again. You leave the drinks at the table and go back over to Spencer. You sneak up from behind him listening to Heather’s desperate attempt to get with your genius.

Heather huffed, clearly not taking the rejection well. “Come on, Spencer. Are you really just trying to spare her feelings?” Heather refers to you as Spencer thinks about his next words carefully.

Spencer shook his head. “I’m not sparing her feelings because we work together. I’m sparing your feelings because I love her. For a long time and she feels the same way” Spencer says confidently as Heather scoffs.

The confession hit you like a ton of bricks, and you stopped in your tracks, staring at him wide-eyed. Did he just say he loved you? Well this was the time for you to say what you needed to say.

You stepped in front of him, your heart racing. Spencer looked at you, his expression soft, almost hopeful, as if he wasn’t sure you heard him. He didn't know what you were going to say, but he felt

“My name is Y/N, I have a name so say it.” you said, snapping back to Heather. “And you’re right. I am his coworker. But I can have him anytime I want to. So, thank you. You gave me the strength to fight for the man I love, but I’m not going to, because I’ve realized there’s no competition. You can't compare to me. This is my man, together or not and he certainly doesn’t want you, maybe if you weren't so desperate Heather you'd know that. So go find your own man and don't touch mine. We’re leaving now. Goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, Spencer following closely behind, still reeling from what just happened. You called him yours. You were actually jealous and to him you looked pretty hot. He was used to you being so nice and he's seen you angry during cases but this felt different. Spencer takes you hand as you go back to the booth where your friends were waiting. The moment they saw the two of you, a chorus of cheers erupted from the table, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Finally!" Garcia squealed, clapping her hands. Emily raised her glass, and even Morgan was grinning ear to ear.

"Looks like the mission was a success," Morgan teased, and Spencer just shook his head, smiling, as he held your hand a little tighter. The two of you didn't discuss your obvious feelings not while you were being teased. But you both knew at sometime in the future hopefully tomorrow you'd talk about it.

As you and Spencer left the bar that night, you insisted on driving him home. The night had been fun, but you felt like there were some things left unsaid—especially after the events at the bar. Spencer agreed, quietly watching you as you drove, his eyes curious but gentle, clearly wondering what was on your mind.

When you pulled up in front of his apartment, you turned off the engine but didn’t make any move to get out. Instead, you turned to face him, gathering your thoughts before speaking.

“I wanted to talk about what happened earlier,” you began, your voice a little hesitant. Spencer raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

“I know I kind of... jumped in with that girl, and I didn’t handle it the best way,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands on the steering wheel. “It’s just... I got jealous. I don’t usually get like that, but when I saw her flirting with you, I couldn’t help it. And I guess that’s because—well, because I have feelings for you, Spencer.” You took in a deep breath looking up at him, waiting for his reaction. Spencer’s eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I figured that might’ve been why you did it,” he said, his voice gentle. “But... I should probably confess something too.” Your heartbeat quickened as you waited for him to continue.

“I was jealous too,” he admitted, his gaze dropping slightly. “Remember those two guys at the police station about a month ago? They wouldn’t stop flirting with you, and... I hated it. I didn’t know how to deal with it, because I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way about me, and I didn’t want to risk messing things up between us.”

You blinked in surprise. “You were jealous? Of them? They're not my type”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’re funny, kind, smart, beautiful—why wouldn’t they flirt with you? But it drove me crazy. And then tonight... seeing you claim me like that at the bar... it was, uh... kind of hot, to be honest.”

Your cheeks warmed at his confession, and you laughed softly. “Kind of hot?”

Spencer smiled a little wider, his eyes brightening. “Okay, very hot,” he corrected. “But more than that, it just reminded me how much I care about you. I guess what I’m trying to say is... I’ve had feelings for you for a while. And after tonight... I think it’s pretty clear that I’m your man now, just like you said.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned closer, gently pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, sweet, and everything you had hoped it would be. When you finally pulled back, Spencer was grinning, a little dazed, as if the kiss had left him breathless.

“So... does that mean we’re officially a couple?” you asked, still smiling.

Spencer nodded, his eyes twinkling. “I’d say so.” The two of you hold hands and sit in silence as Spencer looks at your lips again.

"Can we kiss again?" Spencer asked, his voice soft and a little shy, making you chuckle.

“You don’t have to ask, Spence. Just do it.”

Without hesitation, Spencer leaned in, and the two of you started kissing again. This time, it was deeper, more passionate. His hand rested gently on the back of your neck, and you found yourself pulling him closer, your fingers running through his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss became more intense.

Spencer responded eagerly, his other hand settling on your waist as you melted into each other. The air in the car felt warmer, filled with the heat of the moment. His lips moved against yours with a newfound confidence, and you could feel the electricity between you, making your heart race faster.

As you both paused for a breath, his forehead resting against yours, Spencer smiled, his breath a little ragged. "You know," he whispered, "this might be the best night of my life."

You laughed softly, still catching your own breath. "Well, it's not over yet."

Spencer's eyes sparkled at that, and before he could say anything else, you pulled him back in for another kiss, losing yourselves in each other all over again.

When you finally needed to cool down you leaned back in your seat, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, just enjoying the shared understanding between you.

Then, Spencer’s smile turned teasing. “You know, I kind of like jealous Y/N. It’s a new side of you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, shut up. I wasn’t that jealous.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You totally were. You didn’t even let me answer her when she asked if I was free tomorrow.”

“Okay, fine, maybe I was jealous,” you admitted, laughing. “But only because you’re mine now.”

Spencer’s smile softened at that, and he reached over to take your hand, intertwining your fingers. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You both sat there for a little longer, basking in the comfort of your new relationship. It felt right—like everything had finally fallen into place. And as you sat there holding hands, you knew that this was just the beginning of something special between you and Spencer.

Monday morning, you and Spencer walked into the BAU together, and Garcia was waiting at her desk with an eager smile. "So... how was the date yesterday?" she asked, practically buzzing with excitement.

“It was great,” you answered, though you couldn’t help but smile when Spencer, standing beside you, started launching into the specifics. “We went to the museum, grabbed dinner, and—”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Spence, she doesn’t need to know everything.”

“Oh, but I do!” Garcia’s eyes gleamed. “This is exciting! You two are finally together.”

As Spencer talked, you felt a strange mix of pride and awkwardness. Being at work with Spencer now that you were officially dating felt... different. You weren’t used to having your relationship on display for everyone, and it was obvious that the team was already tuned in to every detail.

J.J walked in, noticing Garcia's unusually happy mood. "What’s going on with you today, Garcia?"

Before Garcia could answer, Emily and Morgan jumped in. "Oh, you don’t know? Y/N and Reid are finally a couple," Emily said with a grin.

J.J’s eyes widened. "Wait, what? How did that happen?"

You overheard the conversation and turned toward them, about to say something when Garcia started recounting the story of how jealous you had gotten at the bar.

"It wasn’t like that—" you began, but Spencer, with a teasing grin, added fuel to the fire.

"You wouldn’t even let me speak to that girl when she asked if I was free!" he teased, nudging you lightly.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "I told you I was sorry the other night," you muttered, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.

"Oh my God, you two are really a couple now!" J.J laughed.

“Who’s a couple?” Rossi’s voice suddenly chimed in as he entered the bullpen.

“Y/N and our pretty boy,” Morgan answered with a proud smile.

Rossi chuckled, nodding in approval. "Well, it’s about time! How did this happen?"

Spencer, now getting into it, started explaining the events at the bar to Rossi and J.J—how you got jealous when the blonde woman was flirting with him, how you interrupted, and how you eventually claimed him as "your man." The others listened with wide eyes and amused smiles.

“And then Y/N called Reid ‘her man,’” Morgan added, laughing. “From there, it was all over.”

You were starting to feel more and more self-conscious as they recounted the whole night. You tried to defend yourself, your voice growing softer. "It’s not like that... I just... I mean, it wasn’t planned or anything, it just happened."

Spencer, sensing your discomfort, gently took your hand again. "There’s no need to be shy," he said with that soft, reassuring tone that always put you at ease.

Emily smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I know, right? Now she gets so shy about it, but the other night she was ready to throw down at the bar!” The whole team burst into laughter, making you even more flustered.

Feeling like you needed a break from the teasing, you gently let go of Spencer’s hand. “I’m going to the conference room. We’ve got a case to focus on,” you said, retreating to the room where the briefing would take place.

As you left, Spencer continued filling J.J and Rossi in on the rest of your date, telling them how sweet and simple it was—just dinner and a movie, but it was perfect.

A few minutes later, you called out from the conference room, “Guys, Hotch wants us all in here.”

They all looked at you, still grinning and throwing teasing looks your way as they made their way to the room. Despite the light-hearted teasing, you couldn’t help but smile. Your relationship was out in the open now, and it felt good, even if it was a little overwhelming at first. But there was no time to dwell on that now—there was another case to solve, and the team quickly shifted into work mode as the briefing began.

[timmydraker]

On a seemingly random Tuesday night, a few members of the Bat Family are free to spend dinner at the manner.

Jason was benched by his fellow Outlaws for a nasty hit to his chest and got tired of Biz’s worrying even if it was appreciated at first.

Dick had been taking a small break after a particularly bad case with work that involved some hurt children and wanted to be back home.

Damian had only ever made threats to move about but the newley eighteen year old was still at home.

Tim had been using his free time while Kon and Cassie visited their families to visit his own while Bart and Barry dragged Wally on a bonding trip. The poor West boy had to miss out a concert of some sort.

Stephanie, Duke and Cass were all busy with a case and had pleaded with Bruce to take some time off because he was, quote, “Broodier than Hamlet”. He eventually relented when Barbie and Kate promised to keep an eye on them.

The group had decided to watch a movie instead of playing games, mainly because not games were banned, and settled on something that Tim paid no mind to.

The problem came that it was cold out and everyone insisted on having the fire as hot as it could go, but Tim naturally ran hot. Jason and Damian tended to get the coldest and while only Jason would complain, Damian could and would set anything he wanted on fire to get warm.

So, Tim didn’t complain and just said he was going to get changed.

He spent at least half an hour on one of the arm chairs by himself with his tablet playing RuneScape, when Dick inhaled so quickly everyone heard it.

Tim assumed it was something to do with the movie and didn’t turn, tapping away at his screen, completely ignorant to Dick’s quickly forming tears.

It was when Bruce also made a noise, this time a poorly pronounced ‘oh’ that he turned around, assuming it had to be a truely grand thing for Bruce to react so openly in the movie.

Instead he finds his foster father and brothers staring at him.

More specifically, his thighs.

Tim hadn’t realised his shorts would ride up and stop covering him to just above his knee and show the hundreds of scars littered over the outside and inside of his pale skin. They were mostly faded, but with the width of some of them they were always going to be visible, especially with the sheer amount.

Pulling his pant leg down, Tim doesn’t bother to hide a sympathetic wince and says, “Sorry, didn’t meant to show them. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He looks away again, assuming that was that and trying to remind himself that it wasn’t his fault that people were upset by his scars, just like Black Canary told him.

Instead he hears a sob and turns back to find Bruce holding Dicks hand as his oldest brother sobs into his hand. He sees that Jason is seemingly fighting to not match him even with his wide eyes and Damian is staring at him with confusion.

Realisation finds Tim quickly, which makes sense considering he’s supposed to be the ‘smart Robin’.

“You didn’t know…”

Dick stands up, dropping Bruce’s hand and comes to kneel before Tim, holding onto his own hands like some kind of follower to a god, “Why? I- I don’t- why?”

The desperation in his voice makes Tim feel sick, and he looks around at the others for help because surely he had talked to at least one of them about it? He had been open with his friends, and he hadn’t exactly kept it a secret, but he did avoid showing them…

Tim moves to hold onto Dick in return, “I’m sorry, I thought you guys knew-… okay, look, I’ve got a two year clean streak and I’m in therapy, okay? I’m so sorry Dick, I just assumed you knew cause I use the shower in the cave with you guys and… I’m so sorry.”

There’s a silence for a moment as Dick drags him into his arms and squeezes him as tightly as he can, not even being careful like he usually would.

“I don’t understand.”

Damian’s voice sounds uncharacteristic in how small it is. He’s staring at Tim’s legs like he might be able to catch a glimpse of the scars in genuine confusion.

Bruce seemingly can’t speak and so Jason tries his best to explain to the youngest Wayne boy, “Look, bra-kid, some times when people aren’t doing to well they… they hurt themselves. Tim…”

Giving his brother a smile, Tim takes over as tears finally break away from Jason. Jason was always the most emotional and that’s evident in how he actually lets Bruce pull him into a side hug.

“Dami, you know how my parents kind of sucked?”

Damian makes a scoff noise, “I know they were incompetent, yes.”

Smiling, Tim continues as his eyes grow wet with the sound of his families cries, “Well, I really wanted to good for them but they had impossible standards. When I found I couldn’t reach them, I decided I needed punishment. So…” he takes a deep inhale and moves a hand to Dick’s head to comfort him as he finishes. “I started to cut myself.”

Damian doesn’t get wide eyes or anything, and Tim thinks it’s so much worse that there’s an image understanding in his little brothers eyes that show he sees that as completely logical.

But it is quickly overcome, his first thought always what he was raised with and quickly followed by the ideals he’s learnt and now values. He doesn’t cry either, but he does have a look of a pure heart break in his sweet little eyes.

Bruce finally comes over and pulls his two sons into a hug, adjusting to fit Jason in and saying nothing as Damian comes up behind Tim and leans his head against the others back.

Bruce asks other a few minutes of holding each other, “You said you haven’t for two years?”

Tim smiles once again and presses a kiss to his dad’s cheek. “Yeah. I learnt that family, real family like ours, would never want physical punishment, especially for something we can’t control. That’s not how loving people work.”

Damian moves to wrap his arms around Tim in their first ever hug and by all gods and mighty beings is Tim glad he stuck around.

Hugs from his family was well worth it.