#you know change of scenery and all that

[princekirijo]

Every time I think I've finally settled on a Pimpernel design there's always this little voice in the back of my head going "wow it took you three years to come up with that? Lame lol"

[perfectlyripeclementine]

handsome theys should have an allowance to pay rent in a spacious luminous apartment and furnish it to its coziest, comfiest potential and then giving their lovers a nice break from real life by cooking them a nutritious and delicious meal and then giving them a good night’s sleep on the comfiest bed and giving them head until they can’t take it anymore

[umilily]

sometimes i'm scared that i've been this way for so long that i don't know how to be anything else anymore.

[potpiehead]

ive been more depressed lately

[clumsyclifford]

first off after rereading a good portion of your fics, I have a question to ask. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF TEA. because that is a consistently reoccurring theme in your fics and hell I am NOT complaining just very curious now because you are very clearly invested in tea ajcjjsnxnxncnl

SECOND!!!!!!!!! DID YOU HEAR THAT ALL TIME LOW IS RELEASING A NEW SINGLE ON OCTOBER SEVENTH?!?! IM SO FUCKING EXCITED BELLA OMFG. THE LAST NEW ORIGINAL SONG WE GOT WAS IN 2021!!!!! (I’m not counting Blinding Lights. They could have chosen ANY song and they did blinding lights. I’m.) (AND PALAYE ROYALE IS RELEASING THEIR ALBUM ON MY BIRTHDAY AAAAAAA)

ANYWAY I seem to have a habit of commenting on your fics a ton and then not touching them for a while and then you go and reply to them and immediately my brain goes SHES ALIVE ITS TIME TO LET HER KNOW I STILL EXIST MUAHAHHAGAHA and I go and leave like +200 more comments and I kNOW you said it’s not annoying but ankxksjxnnx

ANYWAY ANYWAY I HOPE YOURE HAVING A REALLY GOOD DAY BELLA <33333

HFDLKJG i will happily tell you !!! i only ever drink one kind of tea: english breakfast with milk and sugar. i probably put more sugar than a normal human being is supposed to put, but i stand by my decisions. as a matter of fact i am drinking this exact kind of tea right now at this moment

yes!!! i saw !!!! and ghsfhgdslgdkmgj i agree so hard with the blinding lights comment they could have literally covered any song in the world and. they. and they went with blinding lights. they went with blinding lights. i haven't even listened to it under protest. exciting about palaye royale though ! i don't listen to them but mazel tov to you. maisie also just announced that she's releasing a song on october 7th so it's gonna be a good day for music

dsfgdklj well your commenting habit is great i enjoy it so carry on as you were fldkghgdh and thank you for the well wishes sol, my day started pretty bad but has slowly gotten better

[ectogeranium]

Hello MagiQuest community, I am here finally with a happier, more historical post!

While going through a photo album, I found a picture of little me from 2003, playing in the water fountain in front of MagiQuest!

"But Ecto", you may say, "MagiQuest didn't open in Myrtle Beach until 2005!" And you would be right! Upon further observation of this grainy kodak, I noticed this sign above the outdoor ticket booth that reads "Butterfly--"

And I found this odd. Of course, being literally almost 2 years old, I didn't remember what the hell was there before MagiQuest ever opened. So after a very quick google search of "broadway at the beach butterfly".... Turns out, it was a Butterfly Pavilion!

damn, what dreamy architecture! Here's a side-by-side of both businesses when they inhabited the same building!

The building was built by Gateway Construction, and developed by Mozingo + Wallace in 2001, and with not much to go on, the Butterfly Pavilion closed sometime in 2005, with the first iteration of MagiQuest taking over in the summer of that year. (I found yelp reviews from 2006 asking if the Pavilion was open, and one reply said that it had "closed last summer")

Pictured above is the floor plan of the Butterfly Pavilion, and below are some pictures of the interior!

This explains why the ceiling of MagiQuest always had that weird grid pattern to it; It was originally a glass ceiling!

(I definitely think some of the half-walls in MagiQuest were these white ones repainted to be medieval-looking stone lol)

(^^^ The flooring (pictured left) is the same as the floor in the dungeon)

Anyways, that’s all I have for now. This has been in my drafts for a hot minute, I only now got around to adding photos lmao.

[aberooski]

One more shift tomorrow then I get like 2 weeks off practically. Bless.

[bunsbunss]

Our Birth Center (Download)

Hi y'all! I have many upcoming births in my save files and I really wanted a change of scenery from my usual birthing experience with my sims. I intended this lot to be for myself, but I know so many of you would enjoy having it in your game as well! I also hit 8,000 subs on YouTube so this a gift from me to you all! Thank you so much for the love and support!!! <3

There is a full video linked on my Patreon.

DOWNLOAD (FREE)

[sttoru]

Could you do a scenario where megumis daycare teacher is hitting on y/n and toji and meg get really overprotective about it <3 love you parenting series sm

⟣ tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. themes containing jealousy / protectiveness.

you were stunning. that much was known and evident to toji and others around you. your looks were captivating — however, you always seem demanded to deny that fact. even when you have a husband who reminds you of how good you look on a daily basis.

but with good looks comes male attraction; something toji greatly dislikes since you’re his wife. it isn’t like he’ll be mad at you about it — no, not at all. in fact, toji feels a surge of pride every time someone tells him how lucky he is to be your husband.

the thing is: he gets a little. . . too jealous and overprotective every now and then when the harmless compliments turn into blatant flirting.

“oi, megumi,” toji grumbles as he holds his son in his arms, looking out in the distance. specifically at you talking to megumi’s daycare teacher for a bit way too long to his liking, “ya see that? mommy’s being hit on right in front of us.”

the little boy stops chewing on one of toji’s hair strands, seemingly understanding whatever his dad had said. megumi lets out a small ‘oh!’ noise and stretches his arm out in your direction, pointing at you, “mama.”

you were too busy answering the questions megumi’s teacher asked you to even realise that your husband and son were looking at you from far away. toji’s menacing aura, however, only seemed to intensify the more you talked to that man.

“tsk. . . all right, kid—listen up.” toji narrows his eyes at the scene before putting megumi down on his feet, crouching down to be at eye level with the boy. he puts a hand on megumi’s shoulder and whispers a plan in a ‘baby-language’ his son could understand;

the two are being the perfect partners in crime right now (they always have been; since megumi’s birth to be precise).

megumi’s daycare teacher was telling you a fun story about what your son had done to which you politely laughed at. in that same moment you could feel someone tugging at your pants lightly — as if wanting to catch your attention,

“oh — hi, my baby.” your face lights up as you see megumi standing behind you. his big eyes were staring up at you, fingers curled around the fabric of your trousers still — not a clue of what he wanted of you,

you tilt your head to the side in slight confusion and when you wanted to crouch down to be at eye level, the little boy suddenly starts to scream and cry as if he just experienced something traumatic. when in reality, nothing in the current scenery had changed to provoke such a dramatic reaction.

“woah, woah, hey. .” you were startled by the sudden switch in megumi’s mood — his face going from a neutral expression to one of pure despair as he (fake) cried. not only you, but also the daycare teacher seemed to take a step back from the sudden screams echoing in the area.

you immediately pick megumi up and try to calm him down, not pressing him for answers on why he suddenly decided to have an-almost-mental-breakdown-like outburst.

another switch was flipped in the toddler once your attention was diverted from his daycare teacher to him and him only. your eyebrow raised at how easily megumi shut up and went from a state of distraught to one of content in your arms.

that’s when you glance over at your husband who stood near the exit of the daycare, leaning against the wall with his bulky arms crossed, a proud and smug grin on his face — his plan seemed to have succeeded. all credit goes to his son for succeeding in catching you off guard.

“damn, seems like the brat needed his mama’s attention, eh?” toji calls out with an ‘innocent’ shrug, snickering after that, “like father, like son — they say.”

it took you only a few seconds to realise that toji had probably asked megumi to catch your attention by faking to cry near you — knowing you’d drop anything to comfort your child at any time, no matter what you were doing.

“oh, you little . . .” you bite your tongue to refrain from scolding your childish husband out in public. you look down at megumi, seeing him stare back at you with happiness in his blue eyes. you certainly couldn’t be mad at him, “you. you’re lucky you’re cute, ‘gumi.”

you chuckle and kiss your son’s forehead, bidding the teacher farewell quickly (leaving him disappointed by the rushed ending of your conversation), before walking to toji.

megumi squirms in your arms and when you put him down, he instantly runs to his dad, expecting something in return for his performance. toji did seem to have promised him something in exchange for accomplishing his mission—

“papa! papa! candy!”

you raise an eyebrow as toji takes out a piece of candy from his pocket, reserved just for his son. toji was beaming with pride, ruffling megumi’s hair before handing him the delicacy, “here ya go. good job out there, kid.”

you roll your eyes, as that was the only thing you could do after walking right into their trap like that. as per usual.

the cherry on top was that your husband was mocking you like an annoying manchild on the way back home — recalling how worried you reacted when megumi successfully acted like he was crying.

megumi giggled along with his dad, leaving you entirely defenceless. at least you could laugh with them as well.

they got you good.

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking” 

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause …  he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!” 

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t. 

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy. 

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions. 

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.

[mattybsgroupie]

movies | matt sturniolo

contents: established relationship; handjob (m receiving); boob sucking/nipple play (f receiving); semi-public; sub!matt

notes: hello my darlings!!! SUB MATT IS BACK!!! nothing much to tell about this one, it's super short and super simple, just jerking him off at the movies lmao. not proofread but hope you enjoy anyways! thank you for almost 1,7K i dont deserve all of this love, yall are just fantastic.

- ♡ -

when matt and i first started dating, the movie theater was our favorite place. it was dark, comfortable, and no one would disturb us. as we grew into our relationship, date nights were no longer a priority, but we both knew how much we missed it. the innocence, the butterflies in my stomach, the nervousness about holding his hand, the giggly kisses and the awkward confessions.

“are we really doing this again?” matt asked me with the biggest smile on his face, adjusting his sweater. i nodded, glad that i was able to convince him to go out.

“we want… whatever’s next” he said to the cashier as he interlocked his fingers with mine, raising his free hand to his pockets, looking for his wallet. “yeah, this one” he nodded and grabbed the tickets, leading us to our assigned seats.

- ♡ -

i didn’t know how long it had been since the movie started. i would often lose myself on matt’s blue eyes, his skin reflecting the red colors of the big screen, his poorly done beard emphasizing his sharp features. i couldn’t resist placing a few kisses on his jaw, receiving chuckles and a squeeze on my hand, almost as if he was warning me to behave because he was actually interested in whatever we were watching. 

until the scenery changed. the lights turned warmer, the music slower and suddenly it was hard to breathe. i felt my chest raising on its own as the sensual atmosphere took over the room, matt’s grip on my hands tightening, silently asking me to take my eyes off of him and pay attention to the erotic scene in front of me. 

we didn’t expect such an explicit act. the actress had removed her bra, flashing her bare breasts to the few people at the movie theater. matt’s mouth fell open in surprise and i audibly gasped, quickly raising my palm to cover my sudden noise.

both of us turned our heads to each other, widening our eyes as we tried to hold back our laughs. “i promise i’m not looking” matt joked, pretending to block his view.

“you can look” i giggled, adjusting myself on the chair and getting closer to matt, letting my hand rest on his thigh. “i know how much you like boobs”

“well” he stopped for a second. “you’re right, but i’d rather look at yours” matt checked me out from head to toe, a grin appearing on his face as if i was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

i decided to be bold. my free hand moved to the hem of my sweater, pulling the cloth upwards and revealing just a bit of skin - enough to get him excited. i mentally thanked him for always choosing the back row, giving us privacy to our heated makeout sessions back then.

“please?” matt whispered, his digits reaching for my exposed tummy. “wanna see your boobs, please”. 

it was definitely risky, but i couldn’t resist his pleading blue eyes, the way his top teeth bit his bottom lip, how his fingers caressed my belly. what seemed like nothing to others was already too much for us, along with the adrenaline of doing the same silly things we did years ago as teenagers in love. i had blew him at that same seat several times, but it was different now. as if we weren’t supposed to be acting that way. and it felt too fucking good to ignore.

i finally gave in, pulling my sweater and revealing my breasts. i wasn’t wearing a bra, making this way easier for matt, who immediately shoved his face in between them, muffling a “thank you” i was only able to hear because it was a habit. he would always thank me for anything i gave, even my boobs. 

his beard tickled my skin as he moved downwards, resting his cheek just above my left tit. he wasn’t going to speak, too busy sticking his tongue out to tease my nipple before latching his lips around it. matt sucked so hard i left out a sigh, bringing my fingers to his hair, caressing his brown locks as i whispered how much of a good boy he was, which certainly didn’t help his impatient self. matt squirmed around on his chair, trying to get comfortable and ignore the growing tent inside his pants.

“need help, baby?” i asked, brushing my digits over his boner. matt nodded desperately, not letting go of boobs until i wrapped my knuckles around his covered length, making him gasp from the sudden contact. “what’s got you like that, hm? was it the movie or me?”

“you” he said, hiding his face on the crook of my neck. “always you”.

“such a good boy for me” i praised, receiving a muffled whine in response.  “nuh uh, keep it down. you don’t want them to hear us, do you?” matt denied with his head, jointing his hips forward, silently asking for me to actually jerk him off. i knew it had hit him too. the nostalgia, the excitement, the risk of doing something we shouldn’t. 

matt dragged his lips across my chest as i finally got a grip of his cock, placing my hand inside his pants and slowly pumping his shaft. he placed his tongue on my nipple once again, sucking it at the same pace i would stroke him. with long minutes of a lazy and steady handjob, matt was far gone — he couldn’t care less about the movie, frantically chasing for his orgasm.

i could feel his chest panting as i heard the heavy sighs coming from the back of his throat. matt was trying so hard to stay quiet and yet, he failed, letting out a cracked moan when i brought my thumb to his leaking tip, rubbing his slit as i tightened the grip on his throbbing cock.

“cum” he whispered to me, not opening his eyes. i pretended i didn’t hear it, my eyes glued to the big screen in front of me. “please, wan’ cum” matt spoke again, replacing the lips on my boobs with his hands, massaging my flesh.

he wasn’t getting what he wanted — my attention and permission. “princess, please” he pleaded, now covering my neck in kisses as he mimicked on my nipples the same movements i did on his slit. i savored the moment for a bit, hanging my mouth open as his kisses turned into love bites.

“hold it” i said, loosening my fist. matt whined at the loss of contact, throwing his head back in frustration. “you look so pathetic, baby” i cooed, running my fingers through his hair before cupping his cheeks. he looked so, so fucked out. “such a needy boy, aren’t you?”

“no” he pouted, blue eyes covered in desperation. “i’m good, i promise i’m your good boy!” matt said, moving his hips upwards, trying to get some relief to his aching cock.

“you’re gonna have to wait until a really loud scene comes up” i told him. “we don’t want anyone to hear this good boy cumming all over himself hm?” i asked with faux sympathy, feeling his length twitching against my hand. he wasn’t gonna be able to hold much longer.

“boobs” matt practically begged. “i will keep my mouth on them and i won’t make any noises” he said, more to himself than to me.

“yeah? you wanna cum sucking my boobs?” i teased matt, who vigorously nodded while adjusting himself one last time. he spread his legs open, waiting for my cue. “go ahead” i encouraged him and he immediately latched his lips around my nipple again, muffling his needy sounds as i jerked him off, my fingers pumping his swollen length rapidly enough for matt to cum seconds later.

matt’s whines turned to whimpers as he reached his high, releasing the sticky spurt over my hand. i couldn’t see it, but i knew the inside of his pants looked like a mess. he panted heavily as he slowly came back from his orgasm, thighs still trembling after holding it for so long.

i kissed the top of his head as i finally removed my palm from him, raising it near my mouth and licking his cum. “don’t do this to me” he said as he watched me, pulling my sweater down. “i’m gonna get hard again”

“good thing we have the whole movie left” i smirked before sealing our lips together in a passionate, hungry kiss. 

after all these years, we were still the same kids who started dating at the back row of the movie theater.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @mommykinks4matt @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @her-favorite @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @joemamaaa42069 @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @bagsbyclair0 @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknot @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25

i haven’t updated this in a while so if if you want to get in/out let me know! mwah!

- ♡ -

[bpmiranda]

Uncle Logan |l.howlett| nsfw

A/N: a little suggestive content, uncle!logan x faux!niece reader, age gap, mean!logan, underage drinking, punishment, 18+ f!reader, implied consent, cheating(?)

Your father has come to terms with the fact that letting you come and go as you please is less of a hassle for him than trying to control you. Your mother worries about the boys you ride around with and the girls who help you sneak out when she’s tried to lay down the law. At their wit’s end, they find themselves left with one option; send you into the city to live with your Uncle Logan.

“You want me to live with Uncle Logan for the summer?” You ask in disbelief, arms folded and legs crossed as you sit in your bedroom listening to your parents tell you that they’ve basically had too much of you and are sending you away. You knew you weren’t the perfect daughter, but to just send you off like this seemed a bit excessive to you.

While you love Uncle Logan, you’re devastated that you won’t be able to see your friends or your boyfriend on a daily basis. There were plans you had made together to celebrate finally being out of high school. They were being total drags. “Your father and I just feel you don’t have very good influences and a change of scenery might do you some good.” Your mom explains, wringing her hands nervously. “It’ll just be until Uncle Logan thinks your behavior is adjusted.”

“Mom, this is bullshit, I have already graduated. I did my time, right? I finished high school and now I get to have some fun. It’s not fair!” You argue and your dad shakes his head. “Dad!” You groan.

“No, young lady, you need to be looking into college. You’ve gotta start taking your future seriously. Uncle Logan is a good man and a trusted friend of mine, he’s going to whip you into shape.”

That was the end of that discussion and the next week you were sent to the city. “You’re leaving today?” Your boyfriend asked incredulously over the phone as you angrily toss personal items into your bags. “That’s a bummer.”

“Tell me about it.” You mutter, picking up the small framed picture of you and him and carefully setting it in your bag. “Will you come visit me?” You ask, knowing the answer already, but you love how wrapped around your finger you’ve got him.

“Of course I will, baby.” He says and you smile to yourself. “I’ll come sneak you out like usual. No biggie.”

“It might be a little fun with being in the city and all.” You muse as you sit on your bed and wait for the cab your parents arranged for you to arrive. They didnt even think this was something worth taking off work for so they could drive you themselves. “They’ve got the best bars in the city.”

“Hell yeah, we’ll make the best of it, sweet pea.” He reassures you and you sigh contently.

When your taxi cab arrived to take you into the city, you hung up with your boyfriend and begrudgingly got into the yellow vehicle. Overall, it wasn’t a completely terrible situation because it was clear you and your parents could use some distance. Uncle Logan lived in a shitty apartment building that you remembered pretty well and you recall enjoying the visits to the city in the past. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad staying with him. He wasn’t actually your uncle anyway, so maybe he wouldn’t be so strict with you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Logan greets you in his building’s lobby and you give him a big hug. You’re always taken by how very tall and muscular he is each time you see him. Those strong arms wrapping around you protectively, his kind green eyes, that handsome smile - he gives you butterflies. “You sprouted like a weed, huh?” He comments as he set you back down on your feet. “It’s only been a year.” You grin as he takes your bags and leads you upstairs to his apartment.

“Did my parents tell you why I’m here?” You ask as he lets you in and you turn to look at him curiously. Logan gives you a sympathetic look and you chuckle in disbelief. “Of course they did,” You mutter. “So I bet you’ll be keeping a close eye on me.”

Uncle Logan chuckled as he shook his head, walking down the narrow hallway to the bedroom. “No, kiddo, I won’t be.” He turns to look at you, his stare was suddenly hard and domineering, it made you nervous. “Because you’re not going to want to cause me any problems, right?” You find yourself nodding, crossing your arms over your middle. “That’s a peach, c’mon, let’s get your room set up.”

Kind and handsome as he could be, you knew Uncle Logan was different. Hardened by a vastly long past, but you weren’t going to be deterred by his attempts at keeping you locked up. You were good at getting your way.

You’d soon find out, however, that Logan was better at dealing out punishments than preventing the need for them.

After a small dinner, Logan set you up with a small television in your bedroom that only took CDs and a few stacks of your childhood favorites which you had grown out of by now, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him. You thanked him and waited for him to leave your bedroom to bring your phone out and call your friends about tonight.

“We’ll come break you out around midnight.” Your friend says over the phone as you sit on your new bed and look out the window at the street below. With nightfall now covering most of the view of the street, the lights make the city look so pretty and everything down there is too dark to make out from the apartment windows, the perfect amount of cover for sneaking out.

“There’s an alleyway across the street from the apartment building,” You tell her. “I’ll be waiting there.”

“Sounds good, see you soon!”

Excitedly, you look through your suitcase for an outfit and settle on a black dress with a deep V neckline that stops right above your navel. The skirt falls at the middle of your thigh where it hugs the shape of you ass and the sleeves are long and a mesh material that cuff at your wrists. As you’re killing time, you fix your hair and make sure it falls exactly where you want it to before you decide to add a little makeup.

- brr brr brr - your phone vibrates and you check the message to see that it says your friends are on the way and your boyfriend is with them. A smile tugs at your lips and you do another mirror check before quietly leaving your bedroom.

You are sure Uncle Logan has gone to sleep by now and you’re quick to hurry out of the apartment, only putting your heels on once you are in the lobby. You smile to yourself as you cross the street and look behind you at the apartment building smugly. “Easy breezy.” You murmur as you step into the alley and wait for your friends to call. It was quite cold and you wished you had brought a coat when you suddenly hear the flick of a lighter. Chills run through your body as you turn around and spot the flame of the zippo lighter illuminating your uncle’s face as he’s lighting his cigar. Fuck, you think to yourself as he takes the few steps that close the space between the two of you.

“Going somewhere?” He asks with a smirk.

“No,” You say straightforward. “I-I’m just-”

“Save it.” Logan says before he drags you back the apartment as you’re protesting and pleading, your heels clicking loudly on the concrete staircase.

“Uncle Logan, this is totally unfair!” You whine as he pulls you back into the apartment and slams the door shut angrily behind him. “Come on, I won’t even be gone two hours!”

Logan wordlessly forces you to sit on the couch in the living room and then he saunters to the kitchen where he grabs a half-full whiskey bottle from the cabinet. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion because you swore he was mad, but he’s going to let you have a drink now? Logan shoves the bottle into your lap and then sits on the couch recliner where he points a finger at you.

“Listen to me, very clearly,” He begins and you feel the blood drain from your body from the fear of his aggressive tone. “I’m only going to say this one time, kid. I don’t give a shit what you think is fair. Do you know why?” You say nothing and he continues. “Because you’re a fucking kid. You don’t get to decide what’s fair as long as you’re living off your father’s money. Got it?” Tears prickle at your eyes, but you blink them away. “Now finish that bottle.”

Your eyes widen and you look down at the liquor bottle, completely taken by surprise. This is far too much for you to drink. “I-I’m-I can’t.” You stammer looking over at him as he’s relighting his cigar.

His eyes were serious and cold as the ember at the end of his cigar pulsed with his toking. “Isn’t that what you were going to do tonight?” Logan asks after blowing a cloud of smoke towards you. “You were going out drinking, right?” Your mouth falls open, but no words come out. “Answer the damn question.” He orders and you sigh.

“Yes, I was going out to drink.” You say in a soft voice, your hands trembling.

“So, drink.” He shrugs. “Go on.”

Slowly, you uncap the bottle and take a deep breath before you take a swig. Your face screws up with disgust as you force yourself to swallow the alcohol, some of it dripping down your chin. It burns down your throat and you gasp, coughing and holding onto your chest. “Uncle Logan,” You say, looking at him with the pout that usually works on your dad. “Please, I can’t drink this.”

“What do you drink when you go out with your friends?” He asks curiously and you feel your face grow hot which makes him laugh. “You’re one of those fruity girls, huh? Vodka cranberries and peach schnapps? You’ve got no business being at bars, you belong at a fucking brunch.” You grow annoyed, a little insulted at the way that he’s taking to you, and he notices. “Did I hit a nerve? Go on, keep drinking, kid. Consider it your punishment and I won’t tell your parents you tried breaking the rules on your first night.”

You angrily take another swig and you groan, shaking your head. More of it spills down your chin, onto your chest. “Fuck!” You spit, wishing he’d just ground you or take your phone. Logan keeps watching you, making sure you drink and drink until you’re feeling the buzz and your eyes are stinging from the burn and your own tears.

“You oughta count yourself lucky, kid,” Uncle Logan says as he puts out the stub of his cigar. “Those boys at the bar would’ve seen a pretty thing like you walk in and roofied your drink, then what? The hell am I s’posed to tell your parents then?”

You pout, crying softly because you are drunker now than you’ve ever been before and it feels awful. “Uncle Logan,” You whine, your grip loose on the bottle as you’re growing dizzy and hot in your dress. “Please, I wanna stop.” You slur, sniffling as you try to tug your dress off by your sleeve. Logan’s eyes fall on the V cut of your dress, your breasts almost exposed as you’re sloppy with your movements, small drops of whiskey running down your middle. Your brows furrow in distress and you cry more, blubbering about wanting to take the dress off, wanting to stop. You’ve drank almost two thirds of what was left in the bottle and he chuckles at what it’s done to you.

“Let me see it, sweetheart.” You reach over to hand him the bottle. “Walk it over here.” He says, watching you with amusement as you wobble to your feet and take three unsteady steps towards him. Logan guides you onto his lap and he takes the bottle from you, turning it up and drinking what’s left at the bottom. You sniff as you watch him, wiping your teary eyes as his free hand settles on your ass. “See that? You’re no drinker.” He says, setting the bottle down and placing a hand on your thigh as he looks at you sniffling on his lap, your red lips pouty and your mascara running. “Is this what you wanted? To go drinking just to get this sloppy? You can’t even handle your alcohol. How were you gonna handle some asshole groping on you all night?” He says, shaking his head as he gently wipes your chin off with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” You murmur, your sight blurry from tears and the alcohol drowning your inhibitions. “I won’t sneak out again.”

“I don’t believe that.” He smirks, his hand coming up to caress your cheek, wiping your tears, and you let your head fall into his palm. “You would’ve been picked up immediately.” He says softly, admiring how pretty you are and he recalls the conversation he had overheard you having on the phone before you snuck out. “Were you meeting a boyfriend?” You nod.

“Adam.”

“What do you and Adam do when you go drinking?” He asks, amused with how tame you are right now.

A smile curls your lips as you think about the things you and Adam do in his car after hitting the bars. You haven’t had sex yet, despite what your parents may think. Not because you’re nervous, but because Adam does whatever you say in the hope of someday getting into your panties. You want to keep it that way for a little while longer. “Stuff.” You blush, grinning at him, fiddling with the buttons of his flannel, and Logan chuckles.

“Does he finger you?”

“Uncle Logan!” You giggle, covering your face shyly.

Logan laughs lightly while caressing your back lovingly. “I won’t tell, sweet girl.” His hand is sliding off your cheek and down your neck, past your collarbones, ghosting over your breast while his thumb lightly traces the now dried line of whiskey drops that ran down your chest, exposed by the cut of your dress. “You sure dressed up real pretty for him.” You let out a soft moan as he tentatively kisses the valley between your breasts and he smells your arousal as it grows in your panties. It smells so sweet and fresh, it makes his mouth water and his cock hard underneath your thigh. His tongue peeks out to lick the whiskey off your skin and you mewl softly, the sound causing many inappropriate thoughts to cross his mind.

“Mm, that feels good.” You whisper, your fist tugging on his flannel and the other hand hooked around his neck. Logan’s got one large hand holding the back of your head as it leans backwards so you give him more access to your body. The other hand is groping your breast while he’s slowly kissing and licking your skin up to your neck and back down just above your belly button, tasting the alcohol you had spilled on yourself. You’re breathing heavily, gasping softly as his tongue and teeth start nipping at your skin, making you grow damp between your legs.

“So fucking pretty.” He murmurs against your sternum making you shudder.

“Uncle Logan,” You breathe out shakily, your thighs clamping together as he slips his hand underneath the skirt of your dress. “You shouldn’t be touching me like this.” You say although you’re not exactly putting up a fight.

Logan kisses your jaw softly, grabbing firmly onto the bottom of your thigh to stop himself from going up any further. “You’re right, sweet girl.” He says and he suddenly lifts you up bridal style, making you giggle as he carries you to your bedroom.

You feel so small in his arms and you find yourself kissing his cheek, humming against his jaw as your fingers lace through his hair. A small groan vibrates in his chest and you smile to yourself. “You like that?” You ask teasingly, kissing his neck as he opens your bedroom door. “Stay with me?” You ask, biting your lip as he lays you in your bed and he only chuckles. You watch as he undoes the straps of your heels and tosses them before he pulls the blanket over you.

“Go to sleep, kid.” He says as he leaves your room.

And you do, the drunken buzz in your head lulling you into a deep sleep.

🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃

Let me know what you think:)

Uncle Logan II

Uncle Logan III

Uncle Logan Epilogue

[gabbytbll]

❦ love and deep space💫

Part 2

Masterlist

~ As i just started to play this game Sylus will be OOC! ~

Authors notes: I feel like I'm cheating on Zayne but that's ok I can just take both at the same time ehehe I JUST KNOW ITS BIG! I CAN FIX HIM!!!!!

✦𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒♔

Warnings!!: Creampie, BDSM, Nudes, choking, Teasing, orgasm control, sex toys, Dacryphilia, Hand cuffs, Roleplay, Slapping, Rough sex, Switch Sylus, Public sex, Markings, Biting, Big dick Sylus, Blindfolds, Knife play, Blood kink.

MDNI!!!

SFW!

major fluff ahead!

✫ Sylus hates staying away from you to long like this man is obsessed with you from top to bottom, inside and out.

✫ this man loves everything about you! your scars, your crooked teeth, your acne EVERYTHING!!! he just can't get enough of you.

✫ This man loves PDA he loves to show who you belong to in front of people who flirt with you

✫ Whenever a girl or boy flirts with him he gives them the stink eye and gets sassy with them because he belongs with you. (cause we all know he is a sassy man).

✫ He loves to go on rides with you with his bike at night to just look at scenery and play around.

✫ He loves surprising you with random kisses on your cheek, lips, forehead it doesn't matter to him.

✫ Sometimes he makes his cook have a day off just so he can cook for you all day or so you can cook for him.

✫ He loves coming home to warm cuddles in your shared bedroom

✫ He always make sure you don't see blood on him when he comes home so he sneaks into one of the guess bedrooms to get a quick shower and change.

✫ This man loves pet names so he loves calling you kitten, sweetie, honey, etc.

✫ On his days off he loves when you make him breakfast in bed, he loves your cooking even if it's simple.

NSFW!!

sexual content ahead!!

✧ One of his favorite thing in bed is when you cry, he loves the face full of pleasure as you cry and moan.

✧ He loves to tease you to the point you beg for him in any way possible just to cum.

✧ He loves when you try to dominate him, so he lets you play with him for a while until he's had enough, so he switches on you and punish you.

✧ When ever you let him, he loves knife play he makes tiny cuts on your chest, your neck, anywhere he just loves to lick up the blood that trickles down your beautiful skin.

✧ He has special hand cuffs made for some of your punishments, he loves hand cuffing you to the bed.

✧ Sometimes when he gets so into roleplay, he lightly slap's your face a couple times.

✧ When he's not home he often sends you nudes to tease you and to get you all hot and bothered so he can fuck you when he gets home.

✧ He made a dildo that's a replica of his dick so whenever he's not home you still have a piece of him plus, he loves the videos you send him when your riding the dildo!

✧ When the both of you go on your nightly rides on his bike he loves to stop at a secluded area and just fuck you on his bike, since he loves both his bike and you, he feels like he's in heaven.

✧ This man never wears a condom because he said he loves how you feel wrapped around his cock tightly whenever he releases in you.

✧ When he releases he cum's a lot, he loves to take pictures of his cum dripping down from your wet cunt onto the bed or floor, etc.

✧ He loves to put you in blindfolds so you can't see what he's going to do to you next, he loves to surprise you.

✧ He loves to leave markings on your neck and body rather it be hickeys or bite marks he just loves how his markings look on you.

✧ The both of you kind of have a Dom and a Sub relationship in bed it depends on how the both of you feel or if you're up to it.

✧ Before the both of you have penetrative sex, he has to open you up with 4 fingers because his dick is so big he might tear you apart.

✧ When you have sex its mostly rough because he loves how much control he has in bed but he loves making love just as much because he loves how your body slots against his like you were made for him.

დTHAT CONCLUDES THIS POST! i hope you loved reading this please make sure you support me by liking and reposting i would appreciate it!!დ

©️ gabbytbll do not copy, repost, or translate across other sites. do not copy my sentence structures, plot or characterization.

[theemporium]

[2.6k] following the aftermath of the impromptu vegas wedding, little leclerc and max navigate married life. and charles is still not coping well with the whole situation.

series masterlist

.

“Does this mean I get to sit in the Red Bull garage in Abu Dhabi?” 

Charles’ head snapped around, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring. And if he wasn’t currently on hold with the fifth lawyer he had contacted in the last hour, you could’ve sworn he would’ve jumped over the bed and smothered you with the pillow you were currently holding to your chest. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “Maybe I want a change of scenery. I’m always in the Ferrari garage.”

“You’ve seen the Alpha Tauri and the Alpine garage too,” Charles retorted. 

You shot him a blank look. “That’s because you have Pierre watching over me like a stalker.” 

“No, he’s just being your friend,” your brother tried again. 

“So him barking at the mechanic who was just getting me water had nothing to do with the promise you made him keep?” You countered, watching as a flush of pink spread across Charles’ cheeks. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Liar, Pierre told me about the promise,” you mused, watching as his face burned even brighter at your admission. 

As it would turn out, finding a last minute lawyer to completely null and break the marriage was much harder than Charles ever intended it to be. And after he was practically forced to halt his attempts until the race had passed, the high of P2 didn’t seem to thwart your brother’s efforts in completely shattering the connection between you and Max Verstappen. 

He had spent every free and waking moment trying to sort out the mess, including now contacting lawyers back in Monaco to get involved. And yet, the boy seemed to be getting nowhere. 

“Shouldn’t you be focused on the last race of the season instead of this mess anyways?” You continued as your eyes glanced over at the clock on the wall. “We need to leave for the airport soon. I don’t think they are going to hold the jet because you’re phoning divorce lawyers—even if you’re Charles Leclerc.” 

“You seem eager to stay married to him,” Charles grumbled under his breath as he narrowed his eyes at you. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Was this planned? Have you been seeing him for a while now?” 

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” You shook your head, letting out a huff as you pulled the pillow closer to your chest. “How come Yuki isn’t getting as much shit as I am?” 

“Because Yuki is not my sister,” he stated simply, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Plus, Yuki and his partner seem very happily married.” 

You perked up a little. “Wait, you know who he married?” 

“Well no,” Charles admitted, his brows furrowing together. “But he must be, no? He’s been happy ever since the wedding. They must be keeping it private.” 

“Apparently he didn’t even tell Pierre,” you said to your brother, leaning back against the headboard with a sigh. “Maybe he’s embarrassed with who he married.” 

“Can’t be more embarrassing than marrying you—OW!” 

“Don’t say stupid things then,” you snapped back at him with an innocent smile on your face. “You’re just pissed I got married before you.” 

Charles’ glare hardened. “No, I’m pissed because you got married in Vegas of all places.” There was a pause. “And the fact you practically married a stranger!”

“Max is hardly a stranger, you’ve known him since you were like five years old!” You argued back.

“Still a stranger!”

“You are so dramatic,” you commented. “Maman accepted it, why can’t you?”

“Maman is confused,” Charles muttered with a crease between his eyebrows. 

You raised your brows. “Did you say that to her?”

Charles’ face paled a little. “Well no—”

Your grin widened.

Charles blanched. “Don’t you dare!”

You cackled as you reached for your phone. “This is payback for disrespecting me and my husband!” 

...

...

“I don’t understand why I have to be blindfolded.”

“It’s a precaution insisted by Christian.”

“Do all wives have to be blindfolded then?”

“The ones with the former name Leclerc do.”

You pressed your lips together to hide your smile as you wrapped your arms around Max’s bicep, letting him lead you into the Red Bull garage with the black cloth tied over your eyes. You knew you probably didn’t have long until Charles came running to drag you out of the Red Bull garage and back to the red side, so you took up Max’s offer in the meantime. 

You didn’t count on Christian Horner being two steps away from Red Bull’s very own Christian Grey to his garage guests. 

“Does this mean I get to blindfold you when you come to the Ferrari garage?” You asked, your voice lighthearted and your tone teasing. 

“It is one of the scenarios I would let you blindfold me,” Max answered and it took everything in you to not suddenly halt your steps. 

“Max Verstappen, you little flirt,” you said as you let out a disbelieving laugh, hoping the boy hadn’t turned back to look at you when you could feel your face heating up. 

“You’re my wife. Surely I’m allowed to flirt with you now,” the Dutchman retorted, his hands moving to rest over yours as you two finally came to a stop. 

“You’re saying you wouldn’t have flirted with me before?” 

“That feels like a trick question,” Max snorted before his fingers nimbly undid the knot behind your head, letting the blindfold fall away from your eyes as he stood in front of you with an almost smug look on his face. “But I would have flirted with you if I didn’t think your brother would have my balls for it.”

“So you just married me instead,” you retorted with a smile of your own.

“What can I say, I don’t half-ass things,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“I should have known you give the vibes of a Vegas wedding kinda guy,” you remarked as you blinked a few times, getting used to the shift in light as you began looking around the garage. It didn’t look too different from the Ferrari garage, but it was still intriguing to witness it all. 

A different team. A different car. A different work ethic. 

After so many years with Ferrari, it felt like being in a foreign country as you stood amongst so much blue.

“What kind of wedding would you have wanted?” 

The question snapped you out of your daze, whirling your head around to look at the Dutchman with a curious expression. You waited to see if a witty remark was going to follow, but he continued to stare at you expectantly and you realised he was genuinely waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I mean, I know my mother always wanted me to have a fairytale wedding at some pretty venue in a white dress and—”

“I didn’t ask what wedding your mother would have wanted, I asked what wedding you would have wanted,” Max interrupted, and your lips parted a little in surprise. 

“A fun one,” you replied. 

Max’s brows furrowed together. “A fun one?”

“Yes, a fun one. You asked me what wedding I would want and it’s a fun one,” you repeated with a nod of your head, smiling a little at the visible confusion written across his face. “Everybody always talks about weddings being so intense and stressful and that’s just…not me. I don’t care about where it is or what season it’s held in. I would just want to be with the people I love and I want to have a good time.” 

He nodded, his lips pressed together as though he was processing your answer. “Surely the Vegas wedding fits that.”

“It would have if my family and friends were there,” you said, laughing a little. “Despite the dinner invite, Maman will probably string me up for not getting married with her there.”

Max’s eyes widened comically. “Wait, she was serious about that?” 

You snorted. “She’s already sent me the menu.”

“I am actually having dinner with your mother?” Max hissed and, for the first time in your life witnessed with your own eyes, you could have sworn he looked nervous.

“She won’t bite,” you laughed. 

“Oh my god, I am meeting your mother.”

“Well, she does want to meet the man I married.” 

“Oh my god, I am meeting your mother as your husband.”

...

...

“Be honest: would you have made me a bridesmaid at your wedding?” 

You blinked, looking up from the burrito bowl you had managed to grab from Ferrari’s catering before you looked at the blond across from you. 

“Or a bridesman. Whatever you call it,” Logan continued as he looked at you expectantly. 

You stared at the American with a fairly blank expression, though it didn’t seem to do much to his eagerness for you to answer the question. Though, you didn’t know why you were surprised about the whole thing. The last week had been Logan throwing random questions at you, Arthur laughing at your facial expressions and Oscar deeply sighing at the whole interaction. 

“You weren’t even invited to the wedding,” Oscar pointed out, poking about the salad bowl he had. 

“Neither were you,” Logan retorted.

“And thank god for that, Lando showed me the pictures,” Oscar grumbled with his nose scrunched up. “I would have been traumatised for life if I witnessed it with my own two eyes.” 

“Hey,” you frowned, kicking your foot out under the table until you hit his shin. “You know what, I’m suddenly excited not to see either of you during the winter break.”

Oscar snorted. “Sure.” 

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Logan piped up, his attention shifting to you once again. “Would you let me?”

“Depends,” you answered honestly as you leaned back in your seat. “Would you want to do a speech?”

Logan scoffed. “Obviously.”

“Then no,” you replied almost instantly.

The boy gaped at you. “What? Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust you,” you stated simply before you glanced over at Oscar too. “Neither of you, if I’m being honest.”

Oscar’s brows furrowed together. “Woah, what did I do?” 

“Existed,” you grumbled under your breath, only for the Australian to be the one to kick your shin under the table this time. “Ouch!”

“Not so fun, is it?” He grumbled back at you. 

“You didn’t even have a speech at your wedding! Surely no speech is worse than a bad one,” Logan added, far too invested on a speech you doubted he could even write.

“That’s not true. Yuki did a speech,” you told him.

Both boys’ raised their eyebrows. “He did?”

“Probably, seems like something he would do,” you shrugged. 

“Or maybe his partner gave it,” Oscar added. “Whoever that may be.”

“I can’t believe he still won’t tell us,” you said with your lips turned downwards. “In the Red Bull garage, Christian even asked him and he just giggled before running off.” 

“Maybe he’s a private guy.”

“You were in the Red Bull garage?” 

“Your difference in priorities are baffling,” you noted with an amused expression. “Yes, I was in the Red Bull garage. And Yuki being a private person is a load of bullshit. He’s the biggest gossip on the grid, he’s just sneakier than everyone else.”

“Which means he would hide it better,” Oscar pointed out. 

“At least Yuki would let me say a speech at his wedding,” Logan muttered under his breath.

“Would he though?”

“Shut up.” 

“I’m just saying—”

“You know what, I hope Lando scars you with more photos from her wedding,” Logan threatened, staring at the Aussie with narrowed eyes.

“Hey, my wedding photos aren’t that scary!” You frowned.

“The one of Max’s tongue down your throat says otherwise.”

“I am literally trying to eat my salad, can both of you shut up?”

...

...

“So, are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Your wedding.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Ha! Sure!”

Max’s brows furrowed together as he lifted his head, only to find the Australian staring at him already. They had both been huddled in his driver room in between meetings and practise sessions, enjoying some peace and quiet before the social media team tried to rope them into some weird activity. However, what Max assumed would be a mostly silent hangout where he could read over some data quickly devolved into the older Australian making little remarks until he finally gave in and put his tablet down.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing,” Daniel said as he gave the boy a casual shrug, though his grin only seemed to widen in response. Max was about to open his mouth, to tell him that was fine before he returned to his work, but the Aussie already began speaking again. “I just think it’s such a funny coincidence that your childhood crush is now your wife.”

Max froze, his cheeks instantly heating up at his words. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“No? The conversation where you told me you had the fattest crush on Charles’ little sister growing up and used to constantly try to impress her on the karting races she visited doesn’t ring a bell?” Daniel continued, feigning innocence despite the fact he could see Max’s face growing pinker by the second.

“I think you have the wrong person,” Max said as he cleared his throat, suddenly finding his tablet interesting once again even though the numbers and words on the screen were practically gibberish to his whirling mind.

“And the conversation where you couldn’t stop talking about how pretty she was when you bumped into her in the paddock on Charles’ first Formula One race?”

“You must have imagined that conversation.”

“What about the time you ignored that famous actor because Lando told you he flirted with her when he visited the Ferrari garage?”

“I have no recognition of that.”

“And the time you—”

“Is there a point to this?” Max suddenly interrupted him, his face feeling as though it was on fire and his heart beating wildly in his chest and the smug look on his friend’s face was doing little to help the feelings bubbling in his stomach. 

“I am just waiting to see when you’re going to admit you masterminded this whole thing,” Daniel said to him, so sure and blunt about the statement.

“I didn’t mastermind anything,” Max said with a frown. “We got drunk and we got married in Vegas. Many people have done it before us. Many people will do it after us too.”

“And the fact she was your first love?” Daniel questioned.

“She was not,” Max scoffed, pausing for a moment before he continued. “And even if she was, I don’t like her like that anymore.”

“Oh, of course,” Daniel snickered under his breath. “So I am assuming you’re rushing to help Charles find a divorce lawyer then?”

Max paused for a few seconds too long. “Yeah, I mean. After the last race, obviously. My focus needs—”

“To be on a race that has no effect on your life other than adding another trophy to your shelf?” Daniel teased. “As if you couldn’t be talking to lawyers on the radio whilst racing with your eyes shut.”

“It’s just not a priority right now,” Max huffed out, clearing his throat a little.

“Uh huh,” Daniel laughed, shaking his head. “You know, usually the first step is a date, not marriage but I am going to respect whatever lil’ mastermind plan you have concocted in your head.”

Max let out a whine, throwing his head back. “I don’t have a plan!”

Daniel raised his brows. “So inviting her to watch the race from the Red Bull garage is just a random act of kindness to the enemy then?”

“She’s my wife, not the enemy. And it’s not random at all.”

Daniel snorted.

“Oh fuck off,” Max grumbled. “This is why you weren’t invited to the wedding in the first place.” 

“Actually, you did—”

“Shut up.”

...

liked by arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 261, 738 others

yourusername season over and out🫡gonna go bully charles with the dutch national anthem for three months now

view all 13,547 comments

landonorris that's just evil

yourusername shut up or i will bully you too

landonorris why are you so rude when i am literally your personal photographer

yourusername you still made me pay for dinner

user IS THAT MAX???

user omg not the red bull/ferrari contrast

user i wonder how charles is taking this

arthur_leclerc still badly

oscarpiastri i have been begging for you to wear a mclaren cap all year

yourusername keep begging, loser

user the montagues and capulets could never

logansargeant i'm taking the blue as williams support too

maxverstappen1 keep telling yourself that

yourusername be nice

user HELP THE WAY HE IS PROTECTING THE RED BULL BLUE IN THE COMMENTS

user this is my roman empire

charles_leclerc take this down

yourusername no

charles_leclerc take this down please

yourusername still no

maxverstappen1 too much red

yourusername you said i looked good in red :(

maxverstappen1 i said you looked good in red bull merch, get your facts right

yourusername someone's cranky after all the shots last night

user THEY HAVE JUST ACCEPTED THE MARRIAGE AND BLATANTLY STARTED FLIRTING ON MAIN STOP

charles_leclerc why would you say this

.

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

mint chocolate rewards [s.h.] 18+

an: hiii i kept getting stuck with this one but am pretty happy with how it turned out!! as much as i love pathetic steve i also looooove cocky steve. hope you enjoy!! feel free to send requests/suggestions or just chat with me :) -m

summary: you’re tutoring steve (there’s not a lot of learning going on) and he’s a smug asshole sometimes. (ft. ice cream, trains, and karaoke)

modern!steve x fem!reader 

warnings: use of y/n, cursing, angst (steve is a little bit of a an asshole), kissing, a tiny bit of phone teasing, dirty talk, fingering, edging, p in v, smidge of daddy kink (used like once or twice and it’s steve referring to himself)  18+ MDNI!!!!!!

wc: 19.3k (oh im a yapper)

masterlist here!!

College has been a fresh start for you, moving away from your small, stuffy town and basking in the change of scenery and people that a new city brought you. 

Boston was busy most of the time, a Friday or Saturday night in downtown made the city feel alive, electrified—but unlike New York, this city did sleep. Once the hustle and bustle of cars and trains stopped, the city shutdown for the night and the streets were quiet and still. Well in some places. 

It was your third year at Boston University and you’d developed a fondness for the city around you. It was a city of passion and that extended to food, history, and especially sports. A passionate place with the people to match it. 

With this new school and new city, you’d also found some new friends. Robin and Eddie, the three of you had found each other during the first week of freshman year and it had kind of just been that way ever since. You’d like to say you were Robin's best friend, but you knew that title was reserved for someone else. 

You didn’t know Steve Harrington, but you certainly knew of him. Hushed whispers and tired rumors always swirled through the air when Steve was around—and even when he wasn’t. 

Despite the reputation he seemed to have, you wondered if there was really any truth to it. Sure, he seemed charismatic and a little full of himself. Yes, he wore a smug smirk that you thought could bewitch just about anyone. But, when you sat on the sidelines and observed him, you noticed the way he tried to make everyone laugh. You’d seen firsthand how he took the time to talk to everyone around him and make sure they felt included in whatever the group was up to. You saw how he treated Robin, and cared for her. And plus, he couldn’t be that bad if she thought so highly of him, if she loved him so much.

So maybe you did know him, at least a little bit. 

But in reality you were a fairly optimistic person, so you kept your theories about Steve to yourself. You tended to look for the good in people, even when there wasn’t much to look at. A glass half full kind of gal. Which is why when you hear about the ladies man, the stereotypical asshole that is Steve Harrington, you keep your mouth shut and don’t add to the conversation at all. 

Even with Steve being Robin’s best friend, the two of you hardly ever overlapped. You’d see him in passing or he’d be coming to see Robin while you were leaving, but that was it. You weren’t sure why this was how it was, especially with how much she yapped about him. But really you think that Steve has his group of people and Robin has hers. The time they spent together was their own and you didn’t have any issues with that. 

And so when your professor pulls you aside after algebra ll, you realize your overlap with Steve Harrington just increased tenfold. 

“Steve is asking for some outside help and we talked about it and decided the group sessions that I do probably aren’t going to be a good fit. I know you’ve picked up some one on one sessions in the past and made you my first stop.” 

Although you don’t want to admit it, your heart beats a little faster at the thought of spending one on one time with Steve. You’re not sure if it’s excitement or dread—maybe a mix of both. 

“I, uh, I can do that. He’s serious about this right? I don’t want to waste my time if he’s not really wanting to learn something.” Okay, so maybe you’d let some of the rumors about him wiggle their way into your brain, but you couldn’t help it! 

“He is. From what I’ve seen he takes his classes seriously, despite what others say about him. I don’t think he’d ask for help just to make a joke out of it.”

She had a point, why would he go out of his way to seek tutoring if he wasn’t serious about it? And if someone needed some help and you could do it, you were going to. 

“Alright, I’m in. You can give him my number and I’ll see about setting something up.” 

———-

Your phone buzzing beside you while you laid in bed that night wasn’t out of the ordinary but it was strange when you looked and didn’t recognize the number on your screen. Until you remembered the conversation you’d had with Professor Benson that morning. And until you scrolled through the messages and saw his name. 

Unknown: Hi! I heard you agreed to be my tutor! Professor B didn’t tell me your name but thank you! 

Unknown: You are a lifesaver. 

Unknown: Oh shit this is Steve Harrington by the way. I forgot to mention that. 

Phone still clutched tightly in your hand, you cursed yourself for feeling nervous. He was being perfectly polite, cute even, and here you were with sweaty palms at the thought of texting him back. But you had to. You agreed to this and you wouldn’t go back on your word over some jitters. 

It only took you writing and rewriting the message about twenty times before you came up with something simple that didn’t make you cringe. 

Y/n: Hi, Steve! You’re welcome, I hope I can be of some help to you. I’m y/n, by the way. Did you have a certain time or place you wanted to meet up for your first session? I’m free most days after 6. 

Steve: Y/n? As in the person Robin has replaced me with? What a small world. 

Y/n: Funny. I don’t think anyone could replace your spot in Robin’s life, but yes that’s me.

A small smile worked its way on your lips as you went back and forth with him, some of the nerves slipping away. 

Steve: Well lucky me, I’ll finally get to spend some time with the girl I’ve heard so much about. But as for the first session, what about the library at 7 tomorrow? The tables in the back? 

You tried not to let the first part of his text affect you so much, but it did. If you were being honest, you didn’t think he even knew about you at all, so the thought that he had was making your pulse speed up. 

Y/n: Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then! 

Y/n: Oh and I’ve heard plenty about you too, all good things. 

Steve: Let’s hope I live up to my name then. See you tomorrow. 

———

Steve was living up to his name, but not the one Robin had given him. 

The day had passed quickly and before you knew it you were here about twenty minutes early with math textbooks and notes surrounding you. Now you wouldn’t fault Steve for not being early, that wouldn’t be fair, but you would fault him for being an hour late. 

Well technically he still hadn’t shown up. 

Ten or fifteen minutes, even half an hour you could brush off. Things happen, you get that. But you had no text, no call, no anything and you felt a steady stream of irritation flowing through you. Your texts had gone unanswered and while the rational part of you was concerned that something had happened, more than anything you were frustrated. 

You texted Robin to see if she knew anything about what was going on and she didn’t. If he wasn’t here by 8:45 you were leaving. That was more than fair and you cursed yourself for even giving him that much leeway. But really you hoped he didn’t show at all because now you were tired and pissed and certainly not in the mood to hear his excuses let alone tutor him. The thought of even speaking about math right now made you want to cry! 

It was a surprise your pencil didn't snap from how tight you were gripping it in your hand, your jaw clenched and the beginning of a headache pulsing behind your eyes. You’d try one more time, send one more text before you were done. 

Y/n: Can you at least let me know you’re alive?

That was fifteen minutes ago and still nothing. Looking down at your phone you see it’s now 8:50 and you push your chair back with a huff, standing up to stuff everything back into your bag, shoulders aching before you even add on the extra weight. 

It’s when you’re sliding in your laptop that you hear it. Panicked footsteps are hurrying toward you and you don’t even have to look up to know who it is. Any exhaustion you had is wiped away and replaced with red hot anger, the tips of your ears burning as you try to remind yourself to breathe. 

“Fuck, I’m here! Shit, I’m sorry but I’m here.”

You ignore him, it’s all you can do right now and honestly you think it’s best for both of you that you don’t speak. You’d been up since 5 am and that wasn’t his fault, but it definitely was his fault that he was showing up 2 hours late and keeping you up when you didn’t have to be. 

Zipping up your bag and grabbing your keys off the table you turn, brushing past him without so much as a glance before you’re heading to the doors of the library. Maybe you’re being a little dramatic but you don’t care. You hear him behind you, cursing under his breath and trying to quietly call your name but you keep going. Past the doors and down the sidewalk and straight ahead with a frown on your face. 

A hand on your arm stops you and you realize you manage to keep a few feet ahead of him for about four blocks. You don’t turn to him, don’t give any acknowledgment of his presence besides the pause of your feet. 

“I’m sorry I was a little late—”

That gets your attention and it’s enough to break the little silent treatment you’ve had going. It’s enough to have you pulling your arm away from his hand despite the warmth it provided as you turn to finally face him. 

“A little? Try two hours, Steve.” 

His nose scrunches and he looks away. You can see the embarrassment in his pinched brows and pouty lips but it does little to dull the frustration that’s been building inside of you since the half hour mark. 

But he’s standing in front of you for the first time and while he’s spewing sorry’s you’re taking him in. His hair is disheveled and his lips are a little swollen, like he or someone else has been biting on them. He’s wearing a lilac t-shirt that looks a little too good on him and jeans that hug him in all the right places. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Time got away from me and I didn’t realize until I was leaving her house that it was so late! I thought I’d given us plenty of time but I guess I…I fucked up.” 

You don’t hear much after “leaving her house”, a new wave of anger washing over you and you have to fist your hands at your side to keep from knocking in his pretty white teeth. 

“Was everyone okay?” Your voice is calm and quiet, a little sprig of hope inside that maybe someone needed his help, something had happened and it was an emergency. You hated yourself a little bit for hoping for something like when in reality you knew the truth. He’d been too busy with a girl to remember you. 

And yes you realize it wasn’t so much you specifically as it was your tutoring session, but that didn’t make it sting any less. You were a girl, a girl who blushed around cute guys and who wanted to hold hands and kiss and go on dates. And so what if it hurt your feelings a little bit that Steve had forgotten you? You could get over that. But what you wouldn’t get over, at least tonight, was that he’d taken advantage of someone wanting to help him and wasted your time. 

“Oh, yeah, everyone’s okay. It was more like a…a date, I guess.” 

“Right. And your phone stopped working?” 

He scratched at the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t hear it go off and when I saw all your texts I was already almost here so I just didn’t respond.” Well at least he’s honest. 

“Okay. Maybe you should try out a group session with Professor B before you rule it out completely, you might do well with it.” 

He pulled back, eyes wide and a look of surprise written across features. You get the feeling he’s not used to being told no, even indirectly. “What does that mean?” 

“It means that it’s not fair to me to waste my time. I agreed to this because I wanted to help you but if you couldn’t be bothered to show up on time or even call me to let me know you couldn’t make it, it doesn’t really give me hope that this will be beneficial for either of us.” 

His face hardens the slightest bit and despite the pull you have to be a people pleaser, to say sorry and that it’s okay, you hold strong and straighten your shoulders as he stares down at you. 

“So that’s it? One strike and I’m out?” There’s almost a scoff when he says it, like he can’t believe you and it only adds fuel to the fire burning in your chest. 

“Well you haven’t exactly made a great first impression. If a date is more important than math, that’s fine. I really don’t care. But I won’t clear my nights and sit in libraries alone for someone that doesn’t take this seriously.” You watch him take in your words, furrow between his brows getting deeper the more you talk and you just keep going. “And for the record, I don’t owe you more than one shot. What’s the point of this if you’ll just strike out?” 

“I don’t strike out.” 

A laugh of disbelief flies out of you, hands going up like your surrendering, “Really? That’s all you got out of what I just said?” He shrugged at you and despite his pretty face you felt nothing but contempt for him right now. 

“It was a mistake. I lost track of time. If you think you’re too good to give me a shot to prove that I care, then whatever.” 

“You’re an asshole! Don’t try to-to manipulate me into feeling bad about you doing something shitty. Me setting a boundary with you does not mean I think I’m too good, it means I know my time is worth something and I don’t have to put up with bullshit from people, especially someone I don’t even know!” You can see the regret on his face, the way his features soften and his shoulders slump. “Maybe next time set an alarm or don’t schedule a date on the same day as tutoring. Or maybe let someone know you won’t make it before they sit there waiting for 2 hours to help you out. And maybe if you don’t do any of that, show up and don’t be an asshole when they’re upset about it. Maybe learn that you’re not entitled to people’s time and effort just because you think you deserve it.” 

Finished with your little rant you take a breath, hoping he doesn’t lash out at you because you feel your courage waning and you just want to go home and sleep. 

But all he does is nod at you with dim eyes before he’s turning on his heel and walking in the other direction before you can say anything else. Not that you would, you think you’d gotten it all out when you were standing in the middle of an almost empty street scolding him like a toddler. 

Maybe you’d been wrong in your theories about Steve Harrington. Or maybe you just didn’t fall into the group of people that got to see a different side of him. 

————-

Steve felt like shit. 

He’d lost the nerve to say anything when you tore into him like you did, and he deserved it. It was an asshole move to be 2 fucking hours late and then get upset at you being upset with him. And all for what? A girl he barely knew, who didn’t even like him and called him once every few weeks when she was bored? To be fair he didn’t really like her either, so that made him only feel more shitty. 

You’d told him off, which didn’t happen often and regardless of how pissed off or embarrassed he’d been, it was hard to stay upset when he noticed the cute little twitch your nose would do when you yelled at him. 

And he felt bad because you were Robin’s friend, one of her best friends! He’d been hearing about you for what seemed like forever and now that he was actually going to spend some time with you, he’d blown it. He knew you were a sweetheart, quiet most of the time and always willing to do anything for others. It had been a low blow trying to make you feel bad, he knew that. But he really needed your help here and was willing to do anything to get it. Even if it meant guilting you into it, I guess. 

He was well aware of his reputation around campus, grade A asshole with girls hanging off his arms every weekend. Hell, he played into it most of the time. It was easier to just play into what people expected sometimes, even if that meant being a dick. 

And okay, maybe he was guilty of being kind of cocky sometimes. He could be a little smug but he never meant to come off like too much of a prick. He liked to think it was charming sometimes. 

But right now he was worried about passing algebra and making things right with you. Robin would kill him if he didn’t, and he owed it to you to at least try to be decent. 

That’s how he finds himself here, standing in front of you and Eddie where you’re perched in the shade under a big tree in the center of campus. Before last night he’s never said more than a hello to you and he doesn’t think he’s ever even been this close to Eddie. 

He watches the two of you, the way you lean into Eddie as he walks closer and the way Eddie narrows his eyes like a guard dog who’ll bite if he gets too close. He feels a twinge of something deep in his stomach watching you cling to Eddie and maybe it’s because you’re so pretty or maybe it’s because Robin has built you up in his head to be this angel that he’s kind of enamored with. 

“Can I talk to you?” He’s wearing sunglasses so you can’t see the way his eyes dart around your face and settle on the small pout you're wearing on your glossy, peach colored lips. 

“You didn’t have much to say last night, nothing good at least.” You had one hell of a backbone, he’d give you that. From what he’d heard from Robin you tended to try your best to appease the people around you so a little spark shot up his spine at the thought of you not backing down to him. 

He didn’t miss the way Eddie smirked, looking between your stern eyes and the pleading puppy dog look Steve was wearing. He nudged your shoulder to grab your attention, “Oh hear him out, yeah? It won’t hurt anything.” Steve gave Eddie a quick, grateful nod and turned back just in time to see you rolling your eyes at the both of them. 

“5 minutes, Harrington.” 

Eddie got up, gesturing for Steve to take his place as he grabbed his stuff and sent a reassuring wink your way. Steve thinks with all the friends he has, he doesn’t have any besides Robin that really count. Maybe if he quit being an ass, you and Eddie would be his friends too. 

“First I wanna apologize for being late, and for not calling or texting to let you know. I do care about school and I appreciate you taking the time to try and help me. I’m sorry I took that for granted.” He watches your lips part in what could either be shock or surprise and the small nod you give makes him keep going. “And I’m really sorry for the shitty stuff I said. It was a dick move trying to make you feel guilty when you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m lucky you even agreed to help me in the first place, s’not your job. I guess I’m just…used to getting my way. It sounds shitty to say it out loud but I guess we both know it’s true. I realize you don’t owe me anything and I haven’t done anything to earn a second chance, so I’m sorry. I’m gonna try out a group session and see how that goes, I think. But uh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not going to apologize for anything.” Well, he has to admit that is not what he expected to come out of your mouth. Your shoulders had softened the slightest bit but your eyes were still weary of him. 

“I don’t expect you to, you did nothing wrong. I deserved you telling me off. Hell, I probably needed it. I just wanted you to know I was sorry, you deserved to hear it.” 

When you don’t say anything for a few minutes he takes that as his sign to leave, pushing himself off the ground beside you and dusting off his pants before you stop him with a sigh of his name. 

“Thank you—for the apology. I can tell you mean it and that’s all I wanted. It sounds like you actually heard what I was saying and…and if you want a second shot, you’ve earned one.” 

“Really?” He smiled wide at you, hand grabbing yours that you’d held out and he lifted you up with ease. You nodded at him and he felt relief all over. He didn’t realize he still had your hand in his until you gave him a squeeze and he dropped it, shrugging shyly. 

“Two strikes and you are out, Steve. Don’t make me regret this.” 

He couldn’t help the cocky smirk he flashed, hands going to his hips, staring down and not missing the way your throat bobbed at how close he was. 

“I told you I don't strike out, didn’t I?”

—————

You were very pleasantly surprised by Steve’s apology, kind of shocked by it too. You hadn’t expected much to come out of your little rant, let alone him seeming so genuinely sorry about what had happened. And he seemed to understand what you said, he let it soak in and took accountability for it. 

When he was standing there so sincere and upset, you couldn’t help but to offer him another chance. This was the Steve you thought you’d seen, kind and attentive. You were happy you weren’t totally wrong about him. 

But one thing you did realize was that Steve Harrington was a pest. He got under your skin in the best way possible and lit you on fire in a way that nobody ever had. It’s like he lit a spark in you and you loved every second, even if you pretended like he got on your nerves. 

In the last two weeks you and Steve had gotten together about 4 times, and it was going well! You’d realized within one session with him that he just needed some one on one time with the material. He grasps the concepts much easier when he has someone to walk him through a few problems at his own pace. 

And he’d been on time to every single one, even early to a couple. Today he even showed up before you, the little eager student that he was. 

You noticed the more time you spent together over the last two weeks and the more comfortable Steve became, the more he liked to tease you and watch you flush red under his stare. 

Like now you’re sitting beside him—you had sat down across from him but he pouted like a child and said it would be easier if you were closer—and he’s complaining about the quadratic formula for the millionth time. 

“We’re almost done, Steve. Two more problems and you’re free to go.” 

“I think I should get a reward for all this.” He would probably stomp his foot at you if he was standing up and you can’t help but huff a small laugh at the little frown he’s wearing, chin in his hand and shoulders slumped in annoyance. 

“You do. You’ll pass the class.”

He’s not amused by this, rolling his eyes and pinching the bare skin of your thigh where your shorts have moved from you shifting in your chair. You watch the spot turn pink and his touch, even something so quick and simple, has you buzzing. 

“Lame. I was thinking more of a kiss, let me have a quick taste of those pretty lips.” No matter how many times he mentions your mouth or how’d you taste it never fails to thrill you, your face heating and your eyes darting everywhere but his. 

It’s even worse when you watch the way he watches you, leaned back in his chair with his thighs spread and a smug look on his face. He’ll flash his teeth at you in a smile and send a quick wink that has you having to stop yourself from sinking between his open legs. He knows what he does to you and he loves it, soaks it up and never gets tired of it. 

You’ve turned back to your own notes, leaving Steve to work on the last few problems and of course he does anything but. It’s only been a few minutes when you feel something brush across your hair, you ignore it. A few seconds later something soft hits your cheek, and you ignore it. But when it hits your forehead you turn to him with a scowl, a little ball of paper between his fingers. 

“You are a child.” You swat at his chest and regret it when he catches your wrist in his hand, skin turning hot under his touch. You can’t look away from where his fingers wrap around you and it makes you dizzy to feel his rough hands against your skin. 

“Hit me again, baby.” 

That was another thing that had started, the pet names. He used your name sometimes, but called you baby, sweetheart, or doll when he wanted to make you stutter your words and stumble through your sentences. 

He’s smirking at you, eyes light and filled with amusement at the way your neck is turning a bright pink, reaching and reaching until your ears are burning. “C’mon, please?” 

“No reward for you if you don’t finish those problems.” Despite the turmoil going on inside your voice sounds cool, unaffected, and you thank god for that. 

“Fine. I can be a good boy when I want to be.” 

Ignoring him, you turn back to your notes, far too distracted to actually pay attention to them anymore but you still stare at the paper in front of you. You’re pleasantly surprised when he actually goes back to his work, finishing the problems quickly and you beam at him when they’re all right. 

“See! I told you, just need to take your time with this stuff. I’m proud of you, Steve.” For once he’s the one blushing, brushing it off like it’s nothing and asking for his reward. You should have known, a child never forgets a promise you make them. 

Leaning forward his eyes widen, darting over your face to check if this is really happening. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, not used to playing his games with him and it takes all the courage you have to let your lips brush over the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, before they find the shell of his ear. He’s still beside you, anticipating your next move and if you weren’t so hell bent on teasing him back, you’d kiss him right now. 

Your lips graze him and it’s your turn to smirk when his grip on the table in front of you tightens. His knuckles are white and his jaw is set with you so close to him. 

“Ice cream. That’s your reward.” 

Pulling back quickly so you can see his reaction, you beam at the way his lips are parted and his chest is heaving a little harder than it should be. He just watches you with wide eyes before something settles over him. Something that makes your stomach flutter and tells you you’ve started something that you won’t win. 

When he speaks you can’t help but watch the way his mouth wraps around the words so sensually you feel it all over, like he’s touching every inch of your skin and it’s addicting. 

“Perfect. M’dying for something sweet.” 

———-

He can’t stop thinking about the feeling of your lips on his skin, even if it lasted all of three seconds it’s running through his mind on a loop and making his head a mess. 

God he wishes you would have just bit down on him, sunk your teeth into his skin and let him feel your tongue soothe the burn. 

You’re walking side by side to your favorite ice cream place now, the sun is out and bright but despite that there’s a nice breeze that cools his skin. You would have already been there but he had to spend fifteen minutes distracting you from leaving just so he could stand up without getting arrested for indecent exposure. 

Remembering the small smile of victory you had makes him smile, but not as big as he’ll be smiling when he gets you back. He loves watching you preen under his touch, loves the way your chest rises and falls a little faster when he leans in towards you and loves even more the way your eyes go all big and round and your cheeks turn bright red when he says something cheeky. 

Spending some time with you over the last two weeks, it’s obvious to him why Robin is so obsessed with you. You’re hilarious, sometimes you make him laugh so hard his stomach hurts and he has tears in his eyes. He’d known you were a sweetheart but getting to see it firsthand gave him a goddamn toothache. Watching the way you smile at him so proudly when something finally clicks, how you listen to someone with such intent, no matter what they’re talking about. You’re just so kind and good that he wants to be as close to you as possible at all times. 

But this is the first time you two are venturing outside of the library together and he thinks he’ll spend much more time convincing you to do things with him besides math. Now that he’s got a taste he needs more, craves it. 

He doesn’t even notice you’ve arrived until you’re tugging on the sleeve of his shirt and giving him a smile as sweet as honey as you wordlessly point at the ice cream shop he’d just walked past.

Pulling open the door he lets you go first and looks around to see only a few people besides them in the shop. Perfect. 

Since there’s no line, you both go quickly. You opt for chocolate chip cookie dough in a cup and he decides on mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone. He notices the way your nose scrunches all cute at his choice and he rolls his eyes as he pulls out his card to pay before you can. 

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who’s gonna say it tastes like toothpaste or something.” Your jaw drops in offense and he has to roll his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing at how cute you are. 

“I wasn’t! I only made that face because I almost got it myself.” 

“And the thought of having a similar taste to me is making you feel sick?” 

“No, just didn’t peg you as a mint chocolate chip guy.” 

“So you’ve been thinking about pegging me.” He knows you’ve realized what you’ve done before the words even leave his mouth and he smirks at you anyways. He’ll take any chance to get you all flustered and riled up. 

“Pay for my damn ice cream, Harrington.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just quietly snickers to himself while you go and find a place to sit. He notices the way you choose a seat in the corner, far away from anyone else in the shop and he smiles. You probably know what’s coming, waiting for the other shoe to drop after your little stunt at the library and he loves seeing you all worked up and on edge. 

He likes it a little too much. 

Instead of sitting in the seat across from you he slips in the booth beside you instead, watching your eyes dart to the side to watch him carefully. He’s not sure why you’re surprised, he always takes any opportunity to be close to you. 

Slinging an arm around your shoulder he lets his fingertips toy with your hair, smiling when he feels you relax into him. “Can I have a bite?” You seem to not think anything of his request, lifting your spoon up to his mouth and he lets you slip it between his lips, your eyes trained on his mouth and his on you. 

He hums around the spoon and lets his teeth catch when you drag it from his mouth. You shake your head at him, leaning slightly against his chest and enjoying the quiet between you too. 

It’s go time. 

“Wanna bite?” He’s looking down at you and you nod sheepishly, leaning forward to meet him halfway when he moves his cone towards your mouth. Right when he reaches your lips he moves the cone an inch over and touches the ice cream against the corner of your mouth. 

Before you can reach for a napkin he grabs your wrist, smiling all innocent when you look at him with confusion in your eyes. “I got it, don’t worry.” 

And when he leans forward and moves his head down to be eye level with you, he smirks at the hitch in your breath when he leans forward and lets his tongue swipe over the sweetness there, his tongue catching the corner of your mouth. 

The spoon clatters on the table between you and he hasn’t moved, face just inches away from yours and his hand isn’t playing with your hair anymore, it’s gripping the back of the booth so tight it hurts. 

“Steve..” A breathless little plea leaves your now clean mouth and it takes everything in him not to go in for another taste. He pulls back just enough to watch your eyes flutter close and your head fall back to lay against his arm that’s still behind you. There’s a shine on your cheek from his spit and he’s so hard he can feel his heartbeat all through his body. 

Despite the cockiness running through him at the way you’ve melted, his voice is quiet and breathless just like yours when he speaks where only you can hear him. “What? Just cleaning you up, messy girl.” 

He feels something cold on his hand and looks down to see his ice cream melting, spilling over the cone and running down his fingers. When he looks back he sees you staring at them too, a look in your eyes that has him reeling. 

If there wasn’t anyone else here he’d have you lick his fingers clean, he can see the way you’re itching to do it.

But there’s more people coming into the shop and he’s seconds away from dragging you into the bathroom so he needs to get you out of here, get into the fresh air and out of the little bubble you’ve created. 

“You ready, Stevie?” He loves when you call him that, it makes his chest feel all warm and he just wants to nuzzle into you when you say it. He must have been staring at you, too busy thinking about how bad he wanted you to do anything else. 

He nods, sliding out of the booth and holding out his now clean hand to you, body buzzing when you take it and he feels your skin against his. You walk out and into the street and the breeze on his skin is a life saver. 

Your apartment is just two blocks away from the ice cream shop and the walk there is quiet, both of you thinking about his tongue so close to your mouth. His hand brushes yours as you walk and he feels his fingers twitch with the need to slip your hands together. 

“Good reward then?” It’s you that breaks the silence and he’s grateful, his heart racing in his chest despite the smug smirk he’s wearing looking down at you. 

“Oh baby, the best.”

—————

You and Steve spend about four days a week together at this point and you’re not convinced he even needs that much tutoring but you don’t complain. You’ll take any chance to spend some time with him. 

The two of you have also decided to forgo the library, taking turns having it at his place or yours and most times you work on actual school stuff for about half an hour before he’s distracting you with a movie or a game or a promise of food. 

It’s been a few weeks since that day at the ice cream shop, where he licked the corner of your mouth and sent you spiraling. Having him that close was overwhelming enough, let alone feeling him on your skin. 

Since then things haven’t changed much, he teases you and sometimes you retaliate but oftentimes you just sit there red faced and let him enjoy how flustered he makes you. He’s still touchy and smug all the time, but hasn’t put his tongue anywhere near you since. Unfortunately. 

Tonight you’re both at your place, you lying out across your couch in a t-shirt and pajama shorts that really don’t fit you anymore but you refuse to get rid of. Steve is on the floor in front of you stretched out and scrolling through his phone while you switch between watching the tv and watching him. 

He’s been less like himself tonight, quiet and there's a little furrow between his brows that has you worried. By this point he’d usually be wrapped around you, playing with your hair or rubbing at your neck. But he’d barely touched you today, barely teased you and you wondered what had happened between yesterday and today that had him so out of sorts. 

Regardless of his mood, he takes time to admire the way your ass peaks out of the bottom of those shorts, his jaw clenching when he gets a peak at the smooth skin there. He can spot where your ass meets your thigh and he wants to bury his face there. 

You're pulled from your thoughts when he sits up, sitting his phone on the edge of the couch beside you and using your thigh to hoist himself off the ground. “Be right back, honey.” 

You just nod, stretching out your legs and trying to memorize how the heat of his palm felt gripping your skin. He goes to the bathroom, the click of the lock sounding out at the same time his phone lights up beside you. 

You don’t mean to look. Really, you planned to call out to him and go back to the shitty reality tv show that was playing in front of you but when you see a name you recognize you can’t help but to look. 

And you immediately regret it. 

Brooke: Are you still coming over tonight? It’s been over a month, I miss you. 

The blood drains from your body and you feel a pit so deep in your stomach you think you might be sick. You know Brooke, everyone knows Brooke. And you don’t keep up with that Steve does but he’s spent most of his time with you for the last month, so you can’t help but wonder if the last time he saw her was the day of his first tutoring session. 

And that should make you feel a little better, should dull the raging jealousy coursing through you but it doesn’t. It doesn’t because from her text, he’s already made plans to go over. Maybe this is why he’s being so weird tonight, he’s ready to go see…her. And then you’re even more upset because it was your idea to hang out tonight and you wish he would have just said no because then you wouldn’t have seen this text and you wouldn’t feel like you’re about to cry. 

You and Steve weren’t together, hadn’t even gone on a date or kissed or been anything more than friends. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t developed this huge crush on him that’s taken over every part of your brain. And the teasing, the touches, they meant something to you. 

Maybe that was your mistake. 

Maybe he’s that way with everyone and you read too much into it. Maybe you’ve spent so much time together because he actually did need that much help with fucking algebra and stuck around because he felt like he owed you or something. 

In a matter of seconds your whole friendship was Steve was up in the air in front of you and you found yourself dissecting every interaction and graze of skin and now you just wanted to curl up into your bed and forget all of it. 

You liked him, a lot more than you would care to admit and for the first time since that first night, you felt uncomfortable being in the same place as him. 

The click of the bathroom lock snaps you from your spiral and you pull yourself off the couch, gathering up trash from the snacks you’d eaten so you don’t have to look him in the eye. And you shouldn’t say anything, should pretend it didn’t happen and figure this out later but you can’t help but let the words slip out when he walks back into your living room. 

“Got a text while you were in the bathroom.” He doesn’t say anything but doesn’t really have the chance because you’re rushing into the kitchen and deciding that now is the best time to do those dishes you meant to do before he came over. 

Hopefully he’ll just…go. You know he won’t but maybe that would be easier if you didn’t have to see him again tonight or smell him or touch him. The water is hot, too hot to be sticking your hands under but scrubbing at this plate is all that’s keeping the tears that are building from falling down your cheeks. 

“Y/n…” He’s behind you now, close enough that you can feel his presence and you know if you just took one step back you’d be pressed up against his chest, you’d feel the warmth that always comes from him. So you stay where you are, the edge of the sink digging into your stomach but you try and scoot closer to it anyways. 

A noncommittal hum is all he gets from you. You don’t move your head to look at him, you can’t because if you do you’re not sure you won’t cry. And you can’t let him see you cry over something that was never there. 

“Can you look at me? Please?” His voice is low and sweet, a hint of a plea in his tone that makes your insides twist painfully. You just shake your head, scrubbing at this plate so hard you’re worried it might snap in your grip. 

His hand is on your shoulder now and a shaky breath escapes your lips, the tears building behind your eyes and you will them away. There's nothing to cry over. He’s your friend. That’s all. “If you need to leave, that’s fine. Seriously it’s—you can go if you want.” Your voice cracks the slightest bit, but he notices. Of course he does. 

“Sweetheart, look at me.” 

Your chest hurts at the endearment and you squeeze your eyes shut tight because you know he’s wearing that puppy dog look he does so well. You know his eyes are round and full of concern, or even worse, pity. You know his bottom lip is jutting out in a pout and it makes you want to take the plate you’ve scrubbed clean and smash it into a million pieces. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Steve, it’s that he won’t give in. He’ll stand behind you all night, miss his date with Brooke if that’s what it takes. He won’t give up until you’re looking at him, but you don’t know why. Don’t know why he wants to see you upset. But you turn around anyways, cheeks blotchy and a sheen of tears ready to fall at any given moment. 

His lips part softly and his hands are hovering between you, not sure if he should reach over and touch you. “It’s not—she’s not…I don’t want to leave.” 

“Okay.” 

“I don’t know why I even made the plans in the first place! I’d rather be here with you anyways.” 

“Okay.” 

He’s pacing in front of you now, hands fisted in his hair and he looks like he’s freaking out, chewing on his bottom lip and mumbling under his breath while you just stand there and stare at your feet on the floor. 

“I’ve just been…my mind has been fucked lately and I don’t know what I even think anymore and I do stupid shit when I don’t know what do to.” 

“Okay, Steve.” 

“Are you just gonna keep saying okay?” He’s stopped pacing, the stare he’s wearing keeps you still in place against the sink and you feel like shrinking under his gaze. 

“What do you want me to say? If you want to go hang out with her, you can! You’re an adult, Steve. You don’t have to spend all your time with me.” 

“But I want to.” Heart thudding hard in your chest you try to make sense of what he’s saying, what he’s not saying. He’s giving you something, dancing around what he wants to say and you won’t give yourself false hope, won’t read too far into this. You’ve become friends, best friends even and you don’t want to fuck that up. 

“Then stay.” 

You should talk about this, you know it and he knows it. You should get everything out in the open so there’s no more secret plans and unshed tears but you don’t. Instead he nods at you, coming closer and wrapping his arms around you so you’re nuzzled against his chest. Neither of you say anything, just sit there wrapped up in each other for who knows how long before he pulls back and tugs you to the living room, sitting down and pulling you into his side with no words spoken between you. 

The show drones on around you, but you’re not paying attention. Your mind is too busy, too many thoughts swirling around to even try and focus on anything but him. He sinks down further into the couch and you move with him, your head resting against his chest and his hand lying still on your hip. 

“M’sorry I made you sad. Never want to do that, you’re too pretty to cry over me, too sweet.” 

You just nod against him, closing your eyes and feeling the thump of his chest on your cheek. He doesn’t say anything else and you’re grateful. 

————-

It’s been almost a week since that night in your apartment. A week since Steve got that text and you almost lost your shit. A week since you realized how deep your feelings for him actually ran. 

When you had woken up that next day Steve was still there, hand still on your hip with his head thrown back in what couldn’t be comfortable as he slept beside you. He woke up soon after and both of you just…pretended it hadn’t happened. The last week had been normal, so normal you’d convinced yourself that night was some sort of glitch. 

Steve continued to spend most of his days with you, continued to flash those smug grins your way when he sees something inappropriate and you continue to flush under his stare, preen under his praise and stick to his side like glue. 

That’s how you are now, sprawled under that same big tree Steve had come to apologize to you under all those weeks ago. He’s sitting up with his legs stretched out in front of him and your head is on his lap, Eddie beside you hunched over and working on something you can’t see, Robin beside Steve with a book she’s not reading in her hand. 

He’d also been spending more time with the three of you and it made your heart warm. All your favorite people getting along and hanging out.

“We should all go to Lansdowne this weekend.” That suggestion couldn’t have come from anyone but Steve. Eddie scrunches his nose at the thought immediately, tongue sticking out like it left a bad taste in his mouth. Robin groans like she’s physically pained by the thought. 

“Now don’t sound too excited.” Lansdowne was a little pub near Fenway Park that Steve was obsessed with. They usually had live music and were packed to the brim with bodies every weekend. Robin and Eddie despised it, always too crowded for their liking. 

“I’ll go, Steve. But you’re buying my first drink.” 

“That’s my girl!” He patted your head like you were a puppy, grin wide as he turned to stick out his tongue at Eddie and Robin who just rolled their eyes dramatically and went back to ignoring whatever Steve would ramble on about next. 

Neither of you noticed the way Eddie and Robin watched you, knowing smiles on both their faces as they took the sight of you two in. They watched Steve brush your hair out of your face, a look of fondness on his face that Robin hasn’t seen him show anyone before. They watch you snuggle into him, content and comfort written all over your features. 

————-

There was a small bit of regret about quickly agreeing to go out with Steve. Friday came before you knew it and you were tired, so tired from a long week of school and work. It seemed like everything that could have gone wrong this week, did and it had you mentally and physically drained. 

The temptation to text Steve and bail was clawing at you, but you couldn’t. Usually spending time with him was something that made you feel better, so you hoped that was the case tonight. 

It was nice out, not too hot but just warm enough to indulge in summer clothes. Dressing up for tonight was out of the question, you needed to be comfy if you were going to be squished against sweaty bodies and pulled through big crowds. 

That was how you found yourself now, tucked into Steve’s side at the bar at 11pm with a short denim skirt snug around your hips that you’d found in the back of your drawer and a cropped pink t-shirt that molded to your chest. A few inches of skin showed above your skirt and the feel of Steve’s palm resting there had you blushing already. 

You were both three drinks in, a nice buzz in your veins that had you giggling into his chest without embarrassment. When you’d seen him tonight, you knew you were going to need some liquid reinforcements to survive. He’d been wearing a dark green button up that he left undone, tight white tank top underneath that showed the outline of his chest. A pair of light wash denim jeans cinched around his waist with a belt. 

There might have been an audible gulp at the sight of him, but with three dirty shirley’s pumping through you, you eyed him up without care, taking in every inch of him with a palpable hunger. 

His breath is hot against your skin when he leans down to try and whisper in your ear, but ends up talking much louder than he meant to. “Forgot to mention it’s karaoke night.” 

“I am not participating in that.” 

That little frown he does when he doesn’t get his way pops up, lips pouted at you like you’d stolen his candy. “Why not?” 

“Between the two of us you’re the rockstar, Harrington, not me.” 

Before he could open his mouth to argue, someone called his name from across the bar, a man holding a clipboard that looked less than impressed with his job. Somehow in the short time you’d been here Steve had gotten his name down on the list for karaoke without you knowing, and it was his turn now. 

He gave you a quick wink that had you almost melting before him, a small smirk as he squeezed your shoulder and started to push his way through the crowds of people. “Eyes on me, baby.” 

Liked you’d be able to look anywhere else. 

You watch him hop up on the small stage that’s only a few feet tall, no hint of nervousness on his face as he smiles at the small crowd that’s paying attention to him. There’s lights focused on him and you think he was made to be in the spotlight with how good he looks up there. You’re somewhere in the middle of the crowd but he spots you easily, winking before he strips off his button down, tossing it to the side of him. 

The sight of him up there with his tank top tucked nicely into his jeans does little to help with the fuzziness you were already feeling from the drinks. You’re careful not to drool at his arms on display, bulging slightly when he lifts them to grip his hands around the mic. 

“Hello, Boston!” 

You’d think this was his personal show the way the crowd cheered back at him, encouraging what you know was nothing but mischievous behavior. He’s getting the attention of more of the bar the longer he stands up there and you can’t blame them, he’s a sight to see. 

“You all look beautiful tonight!” 

A laugh bubbles out of you when the beginning notes of Mr. Brightside by the Killers boom from the speakers behind him, not sure why you expected anything else from him. 

He’s practically bouncing on his heels as he sings the first few notes—and so is his hair. But your laughter and amusement is quickly replaced by something fiery and strong that builds in your stomach as you watch him. 

His hands are wrapped around the microphone in front of him, eyes screwed shut when he gets to the chorus and you feel like you’re on fire. During a pause his head is thrown back, throat bobbing for everyone to see and you try to trace the beads of sweat running down his throat from your spot in the middle of the bar. 

When he starts singing again—and fuck he’s good—his eyes are open and on yours, coming so close to the microphone you can see the way his lips pucker against it on certain notes and you’re thankful it’s so packed in here, the people around you keeping you from falling to the ground. 

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside

About seven feet are between you but with the bright lights shining on him you watch in awe as his raspberry lips wrap around the words and his tongue swipes out and darts across them every few seconds. He looks ethereal on that stage, hair slicked back from running his fingers through it and hips rocking side to side in time with the beat. 

His voice is pure silk and honey, like he was born to sing this song and it has your heart racing so fast in your chest it’s hard to catch your breath. He’s jumping around, putting on a noteworthy performance while the patrons around you yell and dance with him. 

Every once in a while his nose bumps against the mic and you can’t get over how alluring he looks with his lips grazing the mic. He’s captivating, stealing the attention of almost everyone in the room now and your heart swells in your chest. 

It takes you a second longer to realize the song has ended, cheers and hollering making your ears ring as he basks in the attention on stage. You can see that cocky smirk from here, his eyes dark and cheeks red as he blows you a kiss when he catches your eyes again. 

Maybe you could use another drink after all. 

 —————

Steve was sweaty from karaoke, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck, button up he’d been wearing thrown somewhere and he was sure he’d never see it again. The tank top he wore was clinging to his skin and he wished he could peel it off, the stickiness in the air of the bar doing nothing to cool him down. 

But he saw the way you watched him up there, your eyes trained on his mouth or his hands the whole time and it made him feel electric. The way you licked your lips like he was your next meal could have him on his knees for you in an instant. 

He’d lost you when he got off the small stage, eyes searching through the crowd and sighing in relief when he finds you standing by the bar, chin in your palm as you swirl your drink around. 

That relief is short-lived when he sees some douche come up beside you, a charming grin plastered on his face and his eyes dark as he takes you in. Steve sees red when he places one of his hands on your waist, his palm touching your bare skin since you’d chosen a crop top for tonight. 

Possessiveness stirs in his belly, hands fisted at his side at the laugh you give him. It’s fake, he can tell, but it still makes his jaw clench uncomfortably. 

You’re not interested in this guy, he can see that. You’ve leaned back enough to create some space between the two of you and your eyes dart around the bar quickly and he knows you’re looking for him. 

Little did you know that even if you weren’t looking for him, he’d still be there. He’d always be there. Couldn’t keep himself away from you even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He’d become addicted to your strawberry scent and your sweet little giggles. He’d become addicted to you. 

It’s when this asshole lifts his hand to brush a piece of your hair away from your face that Steve starts to move, shoulders shoving through the crowd with ease and he sees the way your body relaxes when you catch sight of him heading towards you. 

The thought of someone else touching your skin, feeling how smooth it is and how it warms up under their touch has him gritting his teeth. His jaw twitches thinking about you looking up at someone besides him with stars in your eyes. 

When he’s within reach he lays his hand on your exposed thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh there and placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Told ya I’d be right back, doll.” He doesn’t acknowledge the man beside him, eyes focused on yours. 

Your thighs clamp shut around his hand and a devious smirk plays on his lips at the feeling. “Who’s this?” He cocks his head towards the man that had been trying to talk to you, not looking his way but finally acknowledging his presence. Douchebag is still there, watching the scene unfold in front of him with little amusement. 

“I-I don’t know. We were just talking.” Steve hums at you, eyes drinking in the little drops of sweat rolling down your neck and down your shirt. He’s itching to lean forward and collect them on his tongue, to taste any part of you he can get his hands on. 

You yelp when his fingers pinch at your inner thigh, hands coming up to grip his forearm in surprise. He doesn’t miss the way your hips shifted forward though, searching for his touch instinctively. 

“Don’t want these boys talking to you, do you?” He’s leaning closer to you but still talking loud enough that the prick who can’t take a hint can hear him. You shake your head quickly and he smiles. “It’s because you’re my girl, isn't it baby? Want them to know you’re mine to take home, mine to play with, mine to keep.” 

At this point he’s not even talking for the benefit of saving you from some creep in a bar, you both know that. He’s not just staking his claim so they’ll leave you alone, he’s telling you the truth, what you both already know but refuse to talk about. He’s yours as much as you are his. It’s been that way for weeks. 

For him it’s been that way since you ripped him a new one, tore into him for being an asshole with your big round eyes that twitched in anger at his attitude. 

You’re nodding at him with blown out eyes, thighs still keeping his hand trapped between them. The guy you’d been talking to is long gone but neither of you seem to notice or care. 

“So say it.” His lips are tilted in a smirk, knowing eyes watching you shift and squirm under his stare. He feels himself thickening in his pants, head of his cock pressed up against the zipper painfully but he doesn’t care. He’d stand here in pain all night if you kept looking at him like that. 

“I’m your girl.” 

His chest swells with pride, grinning down at you and watching you just eat up the unsaid praise. You’re blooming under his gaze, chest puffing out the slightest bit and his mouth waters. 

It’s hard to breathe when you’re looking at him like that. His stomach feels tight and a feeling he can’t quite describe takes over. He wants to feel your skin on his, to taste you, smell you, anything you’ll give him. But he also feels like he could be sick, just looking at you being too much for him right now. 

He uses his thumb to tap on your thigh so you’ll open them for him, pulling his hand out and tugging on your wrist to pull you back to the middle of the dance floor. Your obedience thrills him, makes his spine tingle and heart race. He should’ve known you were a good girl, the best one really. You don’t even question him as he grips your hips in his hand, pulling you flush against him while the music booms around you. 

Neither of you are really moving, just standing there pressed together while bodies push and move around you. One hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer so that he can lean down and talk in your ear where you’ll hear him. 

“Saw the way you were watching me up on the stage earlier.” 

Your hands are clinging to his shirt and he feels your grip tighten, smiling knowingly against your ear. He loved the way you watched him, the way your eyes never left him like you were mesmerized. 

“You looked good up there, like a natural.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Hmm, my rockstar.” 

The praise shoots down his spine and makes his body buzz. He’s watching the way your hair flows over your shoulder and he wants to tug on it, make your head fall back and expose your throat to him. 

You pressed against him mixed with the sticky air surrounding you is too much, his head feels fuzzy and he’s seconds away from biting on your lips and licking into your mouth. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

———————

In hindsight, deciding to take the train at 1 am on a Friday night was a stupid idea. Anyone and everyone in the city chose that time to pile on. For a second you’re worried you’ll lose Steve in the crowd of people but a few seconds later you feel his fingers slip through yours and tug you to his side. 

“Can’t risk losing my precious cargo.” 

The ringing in your ears is either from the feel of his skin touching yours or the tell tale screech of the train approaching. When it pulls up in front of you, your cringe at how crowded it already is, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat before you even step on. The doors open and Steve is pulling you through the bunches of people, tugging you through and moving you to stand in front him when he sees an opening. 

Your back is pressed against the opposing doors and you sigh in relief at the coolness it provides. That relief is short lived when you peek over Steve’s shoulder to see more people piling on. He presses closer to you to make room and your heart thuds harshly against your chest. 

His feet are spread slightly to be on either side of yours, arms over your head to hold on to the railing and it feels like he’s caging you in. He’s pressed up against you completely, your chin touching his chest and lips hover near your forehead. 

It doesn’t help that his arms are on full display, button up he was wearing long gone since before karaoke and instead adorned in a white tank top that’s like a second skin. It’s hugging his chest and waist and it’s taking everything in you not to lean forward and nip at his arm. 

And then you’re thinking about how he looked on stage. Pure sex as he captivated the crowd with his effortless charm and talent. You think you could watch him like that forever. 

Fuck. All you could feel was him, his breath on your skin and his body keeping yours snug against the doors. You’re not sure you could even move, not that you wanted to. Tilting your head back an inch you look up at him, eyes glancing over his strawberry mouth that’s tilted into a smirk, looking up further to see how he’s watching you closely. 

Honey eyes staring into yours scream mischief and when you breathe in you feel your knees falter, a sweetness washing over your senses. Just the smell of him was enough to have your skin tingling, hints of cherry and vanilla from where you were practically nuzzled against his throat. 

Your hand was wrapped tightly against the pole in front of you and the feel of the cool metal against your palm did little to help with the heat you felt burning through your chest. The train lurched forward and the hand that was dangling by your side shot out to fist at the fabric of Steve’s shirt. The fucking white tank top he was wearing. 

“Eager, are we?” His tone was teasing and when you took a quick glance down to see a sliver of his stomach showing where you had his shirt tight in your grasp, your thighs squeezed together involuntarily. 

“Oh please.You just happened to be the closest thing to me, Harrington.” 

He feigned offense, knowing smirk never leaving his face and you stifled a groan when you felt his stomach twitch against your hand. You thought that if you had to be pressed against him for much longer you might just pass out. 

When you look up to see you still have a few stops before yours, you release your grip on his shirt and try not to notice the disappointment that floods through you when your hold on him is gone. He seems to notice too, eyebrows furrowing for a split second before his expression goes back and he’s smiling down at you again. 

“Ya know,” He tilts his head to the side like he’s wondering about something important but his expression holds nothing good. “You look good like this, pressed up against me all flushed and pretty.” 

Arousal seeps down your spine and curls around your belly like a boa constrictor, your throat all of a sudden dry and you can’t seem to do anything but blink up at him. 

“Going dumb already? You really are precious cargo.” 

You have about an ounce of self control left and that’s what keeps you from letting a whimper slip into the sticky air between you. You know he can read your emotions on your face but you try and school your features anyways, lifting your leg that’s trapped between his and pressing your weight down on his foot. 

It just makes his sickly sweet smile even bigger and your breath hitches when he leans down to press his lips against the shell of your ear. You dig your fingertips into your palm when he lets his tongue swipe against his bottom lip and it catches your skin as it does. 

“Trying to hurt me, baby? Why don’t you bite me next? Pretty please?” He brings his hand up between you as he talks, uses his thumb to swipe at your bottom lip and if you weren’t on the fucking train you’d part your lips for him and take his thumb into your mouth. You think you want that a little too much to be so close to him right now. 

For the first time since you’ve moved here, the train is your saving grace. The doors pull open and the cool air of the night hits you, breaking you from whatever little trance Steve had put you under. It clears out enough that he can step to your side now, giving you some much needed space to try and get yourself together. 

The chatter around you has died down and while you feel marginally more in control of yourself, the smell of Steve and the feel of his arm brushing against yours beside you is enough to keep you on your toes. 

“Cooling down over there?” 

“Yes actually, no thanks to you.” 

He shrugs his shoulders innocently and if he hadn’t just been whispering in your ear about liking the pain then you might actually believe the sweet look he was wearing on his face. “Oops.” 

The next stop is yours and while you’re trying to figure out if Steve is coming with you or if you’re gonna have to figure out some weird goodbye, he’s already five steps ahead. When the train comes to a stop and the doors open he’s grabbing your hand again and pulling you out of the train and into the breeze that cools the sweat on your neck. 

“M’gonna walk you home, okay?” You nod wordlessly, letting your hands swing gently between you as you make your way through the now quiet streets. Everyone is either deep into the city until the bars close or already tucked away in their beds after a long work week. Few people litter the streets but you don’t hear much besides the buzz of the train pulling away and the soft hum coming from the person beside you. 

It doesn’t take long before you reach your building nestled in between two others that look just like it and while you fumble through your bag for your keys you feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the bar.” 

A noncommittal hum is all you give him and he’s not a fan of that, reaching forward and plucking your apartment key from between your fingers before you even register what’s happening. You reach out automatically but he’s pulling back and out of your reach. 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” You know what he’s asking and you’re just making this harder for the both of you but he’s had you so on edge since he got on stage and was all…rockstar and sex that you’re scared about what might come out of your mouth if you’re not careful. 

“Why have you been so quiet since we left the bar?” 

“Not much to say I guess…”

“Bullshit.” 

You blink at him owlishly, lips parted in surprise but you can’t deny the little tingle that starts at your toes and makes its way up your body at him calling you out. “Excuse me?” Your voice sounds pathetic and breathless to your own ears at this point so you can only imagine how you look to Steve right now. 

“I call bullshit. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you blush every time you make eye contact or you look at my arms,” Fuck he caught you. “Or the way you clench those pretty thighs everytime I whisper in your ear or get a little too close to you.” 

Your chest is rising and falling harshly and if he wasn’t taking up every inch of your brain right now you’d be embarrassed by how he had you panting at him. Any confusion he had vanishes and you curse yourself for being so easy for him to read. Like a fucking open book. 

“Oh that’s it. Scared of what might come out of that pouty little mouth, aren’t you? You listen to me talk to you all sweet and dirty and it just makes you all dumb, doesn’t it? S’cute. You’re cute.”

“Shut up! You…you idiot.” It was a weak attempt at a comeback and you felt yourself scrunch your nose at yourself while Steve chuckled. He stepped closer, his hands on his hips as he looked down at you. 

“That’s the best you got?” You were toe to toe now—literally—and you felt yourself shrinking under his gaze. You hated how good he was at making you squirm, how you felt his words on your skin like standing under the sun in the summer heat. But most of all you despised that you didn’t hate it at all.

“You’re an asshole, you know that? A big one.” 

He flashed his teeth at you, hand going up to his chest like your words hurt him. “Oooh there ya go, that’s a little better. But if you’re gonna call me names, I’ve got some you can try. How about dadd—”

“Steve!” You practically hissed at him, smacking his shoulder and huffing like a child at the way he laughed loudly at your expense. He laughed so hard there were little crinkles in the corner of his eyes, grin so big his dimples popped out and you had to stop yourself from poking at it. 

“Alright, alright. No need to get violent, baby. At least take me to dinner first.” Rolling your eyes you snatched your key from him while he was occupied, turning to your door and muttering under your breath. Asshole. Jerk. Moron. Hot. Hot. Hot. 

He laid his hand on your shoulder softly to get your attention and when you turned back he was rolling his lips together, trying to keep his amusement at bay for your sake. He had a way of doing that you’d noticed, looking like a little puppy dog when he wanted to. You hated how much it worked. 

“M’done, I swear. For tonight at least. Thanks for coming out with me, I had a lot of fun.” 

“I did too, even if you’re a pest.” 

“Oh c’mon, you love it.” I do. God I love it so much it’s kind of sick. 

“In your dreams, Harrington,” You knew you set yourself up when he opened his mouth, that gleam in his eye that meant nothing but trouble. You beat him to it though, and the little pout he wore made you melt. “Text me when you get home safe, okay? And thanks for walking me home.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart.” 

Reaching up like he was going to sweep you hair out of your eyes, he must’ve changed his mind because he pinched your cheek instead, laughing to himself when you grumbled at him and smacked his hand away. 

You’d watched as he walked away, watched until you couldn’t see him anymore before you finally went inside, trudging up the stairs to your apartment and feeling your nerves settle once you were finally alone.

It was like you could breathe again, that ache you’d felt all night still thumping but more dull now than it had been in his presence. You finally felt cool and relaxed. Until your phone buzzed about twenty minutes later. 

Steve: Made it home safe and sound. Not a scratch on me.

Steve: Well besides the ones you left on me when you were pawing at me on the train! 

Y/n: Idiot! 

Steve: We really need to work on expanding your vocabulary. Maybe I could tutor you. :)

Steve: Whoops I meant ;), it’s hard to type one handed. 

You gasped and you swear you’d just burst into flames from how hot your face felt staring down at your phone. Was he…he wouldn’t. But did you mind if he did? No. Fuck, no. But you couldn’t just let him know that. 

Y/n: Steve Harrington you are sick! 

Steve: What?? I’m eating cereal and texting you! Trying to multitask here. 

Steve: Get your mind out of the gutter you filthy girl. 

He’d played you and you took the bait so easily! At this point you should know he’d take any opportunity to embarrass you, you both knew you loved it. He loved getting you all flushed and squirmy and you loved pretending like it didn’t light you up inside. 

Now you were thinking about him touching himself, your thighs sore from squeezing together and your heart racing. You wanted to know how he looked doing it, what he sounded like…Jesus Christ you needed to get a grip. It wasn’t until your phone buzzed in your hand that you realized you hadn’t texted him back. 

Steve: Your cheeks are all hot, aren’t they?

Oh fuck off. 

Y/n: No! They have no reason to be! 

Steve: Oh they definitely are. You’re all hot and bothered thinking about me only using one hand to text you. You’ve got a dirty mind!

He was taunting you, you knew that. Baiting you and wrapping it up with a nice shiny bow. And you’d take it every time. 

Y/n: You knew what you were doing! You set me up. 

Steve: Little ol’ me? As if I’d ever do such a thing! I’m offended you’d even suggest that. 

Just imagining the shit eating grin he was wearing riled you up even more, your blood pumping and your fingers twitching as you typed furiously back to him. 

Y/n: Playing innocent won’t work with me, Harrington. I know your tricks and they only make my cheeks red because they piss me off! Go fuck yourself, idiot! 

Steve: You wanna watch? ;) 

You thought about throwing your phone at the wall, watching it smash into a thousand tiny pieces and letting every trace of that arrogant, smug, hot asshole wash away. But you were not so secretly relishing in the back and forth, your tummy a ball of excitement. 

Y/n: In your dreams. 

His reply was instant and it made you fist your bed sheets tight, toes curling in your socks and if you were standing you’d be sure to fall to your knees. 

Steve: Oh you know it, baby. 

Steve: Maybe next time. You’ve been a dirty girl calling me all those mean names. Come kiss it better?

When a picture came in seconds after his last reply you dropped your phone to your bed, eyes wide and pulse thumping in your ears as you took in the image before you. 

Steve lying on his bed, shirtless. He was lying against his navy blue pillowcase, one arm thrown behind his head and he showed just enough of his torso for you to see a patch of chest hair that made your fingernails dig so deep into your palm you were surprised you didn’t draw blood. His hair was tousled like he’d tugged at it and his mouth held the most perfect little pout. You assumed that’s what you were supposed to be kissing better. 

It had been several minutes since you’d moved so it didn’t make sense why your breathing was so heavy and why there was sweat gathering at the base of your neck. All you could think of was leaving your mark over his chest and shoulders, deep purple spots that you know he’d wear with a proud smile on his face. 

If he could see you now…you’d never hear the end of it. 

Y/n: Meh. 

He must have been sitting there waiting for your reply, the three little dots popping up almost instantly after you hit send. 

Steve: Meh???? 

Steve: It took you 10 minutes to reply with meh??

Steve: Liar. 

A sick satisfaction coursed through you and you felt a small sense of victory reading his replies. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Steve was a little upset at your lack of reaction. 

Y/n: It took me 10 minutes because I wasn’t waiting by my phone for your reply. And I’m not a liar, just not overly impressed. 

You were a liar. A huge lying liar who was only able to do this over text because if he was in front of you’d have been stumbling over your words and blushing like an idiot. 

And that little victory you had lasted all of 2 minutes because when your phone started ringing, that ball of dread from forever ago came barreling back into you harder and faster than before. 

Pressing accept you held the phone up to your ear and tried to get your breathing under control. You were gonna blow your cover quickly if you didn’t. 

“H-hello?” 

“Not impressed, hm?” There was an edge to his voice, one you didn’t recognize but it had a sense of sternness, of authority that had your hands twitching in your lap. 

“Nope. Sorry.” The words practically squeaked out of you, the less you said the better when it came to Steve. If you spoke too much he’d be able to know what you were thinking, he probably already did. You swore he had some magical powers or something. 

“Really? And you’re sure? I only ask because earlier just looking at my arms had you panting like a dog at my feet.” 

Your face burned with humiliation and you cursed yourself for the way it turned you on. Fuck. Any control you had was quickly unraveling and falling apart in front of you. 

“Steve, I—”

“Because when it took you so long to reply, you know what I thought? I thought you’d slipped your hand into your panties like some perv. That was my theory, but I can admit it when I’m wrong.” 

“I-I wasn’t! I’m not I just—”

“But you thought about it, didn’t you?” 

And well of course you had. How could you not when he looked like he did and when you could practically hear him in your ear whispering filthy, teasing things. 

You pictured him now, standing at the foot of your bed with his shirt off and his hands on his hips. How he’d shake his head at you, scolding you like a teacher scolding their student for not doing their homework. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he riles you up and it leaves you reeling. 

“I, well I—”

“Just a yes or no, doll. Did you think about it?” 

“Yes.” It comes out in a whisper, hanging in the air and you should want to take it back, to tell him no and hang up but you don’t. You sit there and bask in it, the embarrassment, the arousal. You sit and wait for him to give you something—like a dog waiting for a treat. 

“That’s what I thought. Now that we’ve got that settled, I’m beat! You’ve kept me up far past my bedtime. Goodnight, perv. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

Before you can get a word out, a plea or a curse or anything he’s hanging up the phone and leaving you with your mouth hanging open and an ache so intense it makes your head spin. 

Idiot. Asshole. Jerk. Hot. Hot. Hot. 

He’s left you speechless, sitting there still on your bed with your phone in your hand and your mind running a thousand miles a minute. You’re aching and wet, embarrassingly wet, and you feel a need for him so deep in your bones it’s making you feel insane. 

A knock on your front door startles you, it’s harsh and quick and your pulse spikes immediately. Holding your phone in your hand you make your way through the living room, a seed of worry nestled in your stomach because who would be here knocking on your door at almost 3 am. 

Who besides Steve, of course. 

Just as you’re moving close to look through the peephole, he calls your name from the other side of the door. Excitement pools low in your belly, hairs on your arm standing tall at the promise of him just inches away. Pulling open the door you’re met with the same Steve you’d left just a short time ago, but now he’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts that hang low on his hips and his hair is still damp from the shower you’re sure he’s taken. A pink t-shirt is stretched over his broad shoulders and there’s a simple silver chain hanging around his neck. 

How does he always look this good? You don’t say anything, opting to step to the side and allow him through and he steps in wordlessly, giving your arm a squeeze when he passes by. 

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he makes his way to your room and you stand there dumbfounded, wondering what the fuck is going on and why he hasn’t said a word to you after showing up at your door at 3 am. 

Following him is a simple choice, one that leads you to your room to see Steve sitting on the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide, hands behind him flat on the comforter while he leans back the slightest bit. He’s stunning and it has you fighting the urge to sing to your knees on the carpet in front of him. 

It feels like a staring contest between the two of you. But instead of looking in your eyes, Steve is letting his gaze run over your body. You’re in an oversize shirt that reaches about mid thigh, nothing underneath but a pair of panties that Steve ruined hours ago. 

He finally meets your eyes, a small smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth that makes you feel jittery. “W-what are you doing here?” You can’t help but to stumble over your words when he’s looking at you like that. Like he could take a bite out of you. 

“What do you think?” 

“Missed me already, Harrington?” 

“Always.” Some of the smugness he carries with him has melted away with the admission and it makes your heart swell in your chest. The thought of him missing you provides a surge of warmth through your body. 

“I missed you too,” Your voice is timid, his stare making you feel exposed to him, “but I thought you were going to bed.” 

“Well that was my plan, but I couldn’t fall asleep knowing you were over here making a mess because of me and not come help clean it up.” 

Your toes curl into the carpet below you and you hope it will be able to ground you a little when you feel so…you don’t even know what you feel. Your stomach is twisting and your palms are sweaty and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. 

One of his hands lifts to motion you forward and you do so without hesitation, your feet carrying you to him instantly. When you get close enough you go to get on your knees instinctively and he stops you with a small, proud smile. “No, no, I’m here to take care of you, baby.” And while the notion fills you with excitement, you can’t help but feel a little upset that you won’t get to put your mouth on him. 

And of course this just makes him smile even bigger, eyes bright as he takes in your frown and can’t help but shake his head at you. 

“Before we do anything I just…I want you to know I care about you, yeah? This isn’t some one night thing for me. I want everyday with you, everyday that you’ll give me.” 

“I care about you too, Steve. I think that was obvious when I scrubbed all the paint off that plate after I saw that text on your phone,” He huffs a small laugh at you, hands settled on your hips, “You’ve become such an important part of my life and I—I like you a lot, even when you’re mean to me.” 

He scoffs like the idea is foreign, playful glint in his eye the whole time and it drives you crazy. He has that look, the one that tells you he’s about to say something that will either make you hit him or drop back down to your knees. 

“Come give daddy a kiss then.” 

It’s the former, hand coming up to smack at his chest hard despite the way the name makes your stomach clench and your spine tingle. He just laughs, loud and steady, pulling you down onto his lap and smashing his lips against yours. 

His lips are just as soft as you’d dreamed about, full and slick with spit and you feel yourself pulse when he smiles into the kiss. His nose bumps with yours, his hands sliding from your waist to your hair and letting his fingers tug and pull while you push closer to him. 

“Fuck—you taste so good.” You don’t even realize the words come from you until you feel Steve groan against you, tongue sweeping across your bottom lip as if to taste you too. 

When you finally have to pull back for air, your forehead is pressed against his and you both try and catch your breath. He looks like a dream, mouth shiny and swollen, eyes glazed over as he takes you in. He tastes sweet, the kind of taste you crave at the end of the day or when you need a pick me up. Or just because. 

He’s shifted back a little so you’re not hanging off him and the edge of the bed, your thighs wrapped around his hips and your chests almost touching from how close you are. He’s tugging at the ends of your shirt, trying to pull it off but it’s trapped between your thighs and his. You lean up just enough for him to pull it free, tugging it over your head with ease. 

What you’ve managed to forget in the heat of the moment, what Steve doesn’t know but is quick to find out is the little secret no one but Robin knows about—and she only knows because you needed moral support. 

“Oh holy fuck,” You’ve never seen his eyes so wide and his mouth is dropped open so big it’s almost kind of scary. Somehow you’d forgotten your nipples were pierced, maybe it was from Steve kissing you stupid, you’re not sure. But he’s looking at your tits now like he’s got gold in front of him. 

Your mouth opens to tease him but before you can speak he’s moving his hand to cover your mouth, eyes never leaving your boobs and you have to laugh against him. 

“Don’t—you can’t say a thing right now or I’ll cum in my pants.” He sounds so serious, so pained that you whine against his hand all greedy and impatient. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, doll. Think I could cum from just lookin’ at em for too long.” 

You nod eagerly against his hand, the idea of that turning you on even more than you thought possible. He finally removes his hand but only because he can’t hold out on touching you any longer. His palms come up to cup your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples and you sigh in relief at the feeling of his touch. He uses two fingers to tug gently at the little silver barbell that runs through them, watching your face for your reaction and you don’t disappoint. Your mouth falls open, a small moan slipping out and your hands grip his shoulders tight. 

“Fuck me. God you’re perfect, so pretty and sweet for me. Shit, m’losing my goddamn mind here, baby.” Half his words are almost slurred, attention moving between your tits and your face as he tugs and thumbs at your nipples. The furrow in his brow makes him look genuinely concerned and you throb at the thought of him being so mesmerized by you. 

He’s so occupied with your pretty tits in his face he doesn’t notice when you slide back a little, a few inches of space between you now. You’ve been soaked and aching for far too long and you think if he doesn’t touch you in the next few seconds you might cry. 

You move one of your hands to grab his, tugging it from your nipple and sliding it down between you to press against the front of your panties. They’re messy, your thighs sticky and you hope he understands your not so subtle hint. 

He does, cursing at the feel of how wet and hot you are even through the thin layer separating him from you. “Poor thing, didn’t even know someone could be this messy.” Your hips shift, desperately trying to get his fingers to catch on your clit. “Who made you this desperate, huh? Was it that prick from the bar?” 

You’re shaking your head but it’s not enough for him, hand moving away and you gasp, pulling it back and giving him what he wants. “You. It’s you—you did this to me.” 

Instead of saying anything he dips his fingers past the band of your panties, both of you groaning at the contact. He circles your clit twice, thighs twitching around him before he’s dipping down to your sopping hole, teasing his finger there before swiping through your slit to collect some of the slick that’s there. 

You want to whine when he pulls his hand out but it fades away at the sight of his glistening fingers, how he studies them for a minute before slipping them into his mouth and humming in content. 

“Way better than mint chocolate chip.” 

Next thing you know he’s slipping his hand back between you, the imprint of his knuckles against your panties hot enough to make you drool down his chest. 

Thumb pressed to your clit he moves in slow circles, just enough pressure to make you need more, pressing down onto his hand and trying to swivel your hips. “Want you, Steve. Need you.” 

“I know baby, gotta stretch you out first.” At the same time he’s speaking he’s slipping his middle finger inside of you with no resistance and it’s not enough. It’s like he has a connection to your mind, slipping another finger in immediately and you feel that ache start to untangle itself the slightest bit. 

With two of his much larger fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit, you already feel the signs of an orgasm building deep in your belly. You feel that burn all over, grinding down onto him in search of that pressure that’ll make your eyes roll back. It’s when he curls his fingers that you lurch forward, face nuzzling his neck as he hits that spot inside of you that makes your vision blur. 

“S-steve..” You’re almost there already, walls clamping down on his fingers and holding them inside while he speeds up on your clit. There’s a twitch in your thighs that he noticed, hushed praises in your ear when that string begins to fray, threatening to snap in seconds. 

And then it stops. 

There’s no more curling his fingers and his thumb is still on your clit. You pull back just enough to curse at him, his hand wet and sticky with evidence of just how much you were enjoying that. But when you see his face you know you’re fucked. He’s got that shine in his eyes that screams trouble, a devious little smirk on his lips as he watches the frustration build behind your eyes. 

“Something to say, sweetheart?” He’s taunting you, daring you to curse at him—but you don’t. You can’t fathom the idea of him taking this all away so you remain quiet, shaking your head at him and hoping your obedience will pay off soon. He nods at you as if to say “that’s what I thought”, hand coming up to tuck your face back into the crook of his neck as he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you again. 

You’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks turn bright red because you can hear how wet you are, the small little noise it makes every time he drives his fingers back into has you pressing further into him. He has goosebumps on skin from the feel of your hot breath against his throat from where you’re practically panting, little open mouthed kisses left for as far as you can reach. 

It doesn’t take long before that feeling is building back up, stronger than before and you curse against his skin. “Snug little cunt, greedy for it, isn’t she?” You think you chant a whispered “yes” into him but you can’t be sure, overwhelmed by the tight, quick circles he’s rubbing on your swollen clit and the wave of pleasure you feel beginning to wash over you. 

And then it stops again. 

This time you can’t help the whine that slips out, hands fisting his t-shirt as you writhe in his lap. He chuckles in your ear, smooth and teasing and it makes you mortified when you feel yourself drip down his hand at his meanness. 

“You can handle one more time, yeah? Then I’ll give you my cock.” The promise of finally being full of him is enough to push down your frustrations, eagerness and excitement taking over. He lets you get away with a nod, picking up a faster pace than before and you think it’s not for you, but that his patience is wearing thin. 

He’s rubbing harshly against that sponges spot inside of you with every pass of his fingers, your mouth dropped open with no sound coming out as you try and hold off. It’s too much, too intense and you feel lightheaded at how every nerve in your body is lit up and buzzing.

But apparently he knows your body better than you do, stopping just seconds before you begin to tip over and your shoulders sag in relief and annoyance at the same time. 

“Please, please.” They’re quiet little pleas that he can't even hear but can feel against his skin and he coos at you. It’s condescending and should piss you off but instead has you nudging your nose against his for comfort. 

“Told ya I’d give you my cock, honey. Lay down and let me see you.” You move to lay back, watching him stand over you and strip his shirt and shorts off. He’d forgone underwear and you thank god for that. The sight of his cock, hard and shiny with precum as your thighs falling open for him automatically. He notices this, of course he does. He’s thick and you’re suddenly very grateful for the prep he just did, you don’t think he’d fit otherwise. 

When he leans down to pull a condom from the back pocket of his shorts—presumptuous cocky bastard—you feel the urge to stop him but refrain. You’re already crossing all these invisible lines, you need to have at least some self control. Even though you’re desperate to feel him bare. You’re captivated by him, watching him roll the condom on and clenching around nothing as he hisses through his teeth at the contact. 

Seeing him for the first time, how hard and flushed he is makes you regret even more not getting your mouth on him. Next time, you promise yourself. You’d thought you’d be nervous for this, but you think you’re too overwhelmed with a need for him that there’s no room left to be nervous or anxious. 

Climbing on the bed he moves between your open legs, hands on either side of your head as he holds himself up over you. His cock is lying against you, head touching your clit and it’s making it impossible to lie still. “You still want this?” His face is serious, and you want to squish his cheeks at his consideration for you despite his hard cock pressing against you. 

“Please, Steve. I want this—I need you.” It’s all the confirmation he needs, reaching one hand between you to take his cock, running it through your slit and groaning at the way you twitch below him. After bumping it against your clit he moves down to your entrance, pushing in the slightest bit and squeezing his eyes shut at the feel of you clenching down on him. 

The burn of him pushing forward stings, but it’s a welcome pain that has you gripping the sheets below you, looking for something to steady you when you feel like you’ll float away. “Keep going, please keep going.” You’re pleading below him, mouth dropping open when he pushes in. He has to pause when he’s in all the way, his patch of public hair at the base of his cock catching at your clit and you gasp. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” His forehead is pressed against your cheek, his teeth scraping against the edge of your jaw as he tried to collect himself. “I don’t—shit I don’t know how—goddamn baby, never felt anything this good before in my life.” 

He throbs inside of you when you whine, craning your neck up just an inch to take the silver chain dangling above you between your teeth. “Fuckin’ hell, gonna kill me.” You lift your hips off the bed, urging him to move and moan around the chain when he slips deeper inside of you. He pulls himself up to look at you, hair falling around your head like an angel with blotchy cheeks and fucked out eyes. 

Thrusting forward, the tip of his cock nudges against that spot inside of you and you clench around him so hard his arms almost give out above you. This has been building up for weeks and with the way he edged you earlier, you won’t last long. He knows as much, thrusting into you and using one hand to rub sloppy circles on your clit. 

“Feel like I’m having deja vu, having you pressed against me like this, yeah?” It was just hours ago you were on the train, a few more layers between you but pressed up against him all the same. 

The chain pops from your mouth when he moves your hands to lay beside your head, lacing your fingers together as he stretches over you. Your piercings press against his chest just right and it has your tummy tightening, the added friction enough to have your head spinning. 

He looks mouthwatering above you, hair out of place and falling over his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and he’s holding his bottom lip between his teeth as he moves between watching your face and the way your tits bounce with every thrust of his cock. There’s little drops of sweat running down his sculpted nose and slipping onto your chest, your cute little gasps hitting his ears. 

You know you’re done for when he leans down, lips pressed to your ear and his harsh breath tickling your skin. 

“Takin’ your daddy’s cock so well, aren’t you, doll?” 

Eyes screwed shut you claw at his shoulders, his name leaving your lips in a curse and you both can see the way the nickname makes your face flush a shade darker of red, eyes turning dark and fingers digging into him. “Dirty girl, acting like you don’t like it when I can feel you making a mess of me, this pretty little pussy hugging me tight when I call myself daddy.” 

“Fu-fuck, Steve. Gonna cum—m’gonna cum.” Your words are hushed and quick in his air, rope beginning to snap and if he stops right now you might actually kill him. 

“Go ahead, soak my cock, pretty girl. Show me who I belong to, yeah?” It’s all it takes, rope snapping and sparks shooting down to your toes as you tug at his hair, your thighs tight as your orgasm crashes through you. It feels like it goes on forever, your body taught and ears buzzing and you can barely make out the faint curses coming from above you. 

He belongs to you, and he will as long as he’ll have you.

You feel yourself start to come back down, your chin pinched in between Steve’s fingers and he’s looking at you like he’s seeing the first snowfall of the year. His thrusts are getting sloppy, hips grinding into yours and his breaths uneven and sharp. “Where…where do you want it baby?” 

Not sure that you can make coherent sentences right now, you reach up to cup your breasts, Steve’s eyes widening before the most pitiful cry leaves his lips. He thrusts into you one, two, three more times and each one has you gasping below him as aftershocks of your orgasm zing through you. 

He pulls out quickly, pulling off the condom with a sharp inhale and you think he looks good like this, all desperate and pathetic for you like you always are for him. You urge him forward, fingers digging into his hips and trying to pull him up your body. He moves easily, coming up so he’s barely resting any weight on your belly, knees on either side of your chest. 

You cup your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples and pushing them together below him. He’s looking at you from under his lashes, eyes hooded and lips parted in a silent gasp. It only takes two quick strokes before what’s been building at the base of his spine snaps and he’s cursing above you, ropes of white covering your chest and neck and catching the piercings too. 

“Perfect, you’re so perfect—shit.” He works himself through it slowly, his cock twitching and his fingers covered in cum from where it’s dribbled over his fist. He’s staring down at you with an intensity that makes you blush, eyes taking in every inch of you that’s marked with him. 

“Look like a fuckin’ dream with these pretty tits covered in my cum. Fuck, doll, I’m gonna think about this for the rest of my life.” 

All you can do is smile stupidly below him, your heart bursting and your body thoroughly exhausted. He leans down and presses a quick peck to your cheek before he’s shifting off the bed, running to the bathroom and washing off his hand before he comes back with a warm rag, sitting beside you so he can clean you up. His hand hovers over you and you roll your eyes at the little pout he’s wearing as he looks at your boobs. 

“Are you seriously pouting over cleaning off my boobs right now?” 

“Who wouldn’t be? They look so pretty like this.” 

You reach for the rag with a giggle to do it yourself but he pulls his hand back, shaking his head at you and begrudgingly wiping his cum off your chest with a little sigh that’s a little endearing. 

Once you're cleaned up and the condom is in the trash he helps you up so he can pull back the comforter, both of you snuggling in under the covers—naked at his request. His chest is pressed to your back, his heartbeat felt against your skin and it makes you smile into your pillow. 

His skin is warm against yours, fingers laced beside your head and you lift your chin to place quick kisses against his knuckles. 

“Now that’s the kind of reward I could get used to.” 

“Steve!”

————-

It’s the next day and there’s a soreness between your thighs that has you smiling to yourself while you get ready. You remember this morning, how you woke up to the sight of honey brown hair nestled between your thighs, coaxing you out of your sleep with his tongue on your clit. 

The best kind of pain, where you’ll feel him for days when you walk or when you sit down. It brings a blush to your skin and memories you’ll think about forever to your mind. 

He left shortly after, both of you needing to be away from each other so you could actually get ready for the lunch you had planned with Robin and Eddie this afternoon. 

A feeling of nervousness settles within you as you get ready for this lunch. It’s not that you want to keep this from Rob and Eddie, but you’re not what you’d even tell them! These nerves were much more about you and Steve then they were your friends. 

Would you tell them you’re dating? That you like each other? That you’re just fucking around? This is what made you anxious, what had your hands twisting in your lap on the train and had you so distracted you stumbled right into Eddie outside of the restaurant. 

“Woah! Caught ya.” He steadies you, smiling down into your worried eyes and a little bit of that anxiety seeps out of you. This is your friend, one of your best friends! Who cares what’s going on, maybe he’ll have some insight that you can’t see for yourself. 

Eddie leads you into the place, a booth in the back already holding Robin and Steve. They’re both on one side of it and you can see from here that Steve’s unhappy about not getting to sit by you. 

You slide in so you’re closest to the wall, legs knocking with Steve’s under the table and the small amount of contact soothes some of the turmoil happening inside of you. 

Everything is going good, things feel normal—besides the subtle winks Steve sends your way to get you blushing—and you’re not even worried anymore. The table in front of you is filled with food, everyone reaching over and grabbing whatever sounds good. Arms are crossed over each other and hands get tangled when you reach for fries or mozzarella sticks or an onion ring. 

Robin is going on about something, you’re not sure what you’ve kind of zoned out a little if you’re being honest, when you feel Steve staring at you. You look up to his brows furrowed, confusion laced in his features and you quirk your brow at him, wondering what has him looking at you like that. 

It’s when Eddie speaks up beside you, cutting Robin off and bringing everyone’s attention to him that it makes sense, “Harrington, I appreciate the love but can you stop trying to play footsies with me under the table?” 

Steve’s face flames and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and out of your mouth, hands coming up to try and smother how loud it is. But Steve doesn’t recover fast enough, eyes darting to yours sheepishly and that’s when it clicks for Eddie. 

“Oh. My. God.” 

Three sets of eyes fly to Eddie. Robin is confused. You and Steve are looking at Eddie as he looks between the two of you, mouth dropped open in shock and you curse yourself for the storm that’s coming. 

“What?” It’s Robin that speaks first, eyes darting between the three of you quickly. You and Steve keep quiet, trying not to give yourselves away but it’s no use. “Oh my god.” There’s Eddie again, sinister smirk on his lips as he takes his time taking in your pink cheeks and the way Steve won’t make eye contact with him. 

“Oh for the love of god! Someone tell me what’s going on. I am not a mind reader.” 

“Robin, you won’t believe it. These two finally fucked.” A chorus of noises fill your small corner of the restaurant, booth creaking underneath you from where Eddie is practically bouncing in his seat. Robin squeals, hands going to grip Steve’s arms. Steve sighs, letting Robin tug him around like a rag doll in a fit of her excitement. And you gasp, smacking Eddie in the chest the way you do to Steve all the time. 

But neither of you deny it and that alone sends waves of relief through you. Not that you think Steve would, especially with the way he’s gotten over his bit of embarrassment, adorning his signature smirk and a look of pride as the people around him freak out. 

You don’t know how bad Steve wants to show you off, tell the world and scream it from the rooftops how lucky he is to even get to be around you. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, sweet and kind but not afraid to challenge him and call him out for his bullshit. God, he’s obsessed with you. 

Eddie’s rubbing at his chest where you hit him, pouting like a child as if it actually hurt. You hope it did. “Damn, she’s got some force behind those hits,” He looks from you to Steve, eyes lighting up and you know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth, “but you love it, don’t ya big boy?” 

Your head falls forward to rest in your palm, eyes closed as you try and pretend you're anywhere but here. You think you hear Robin gag from across the table and it forces a laugh out of you. Eyes lifting to meet Steve’s, his teeth are showing and he’s shaking his head like he knows a secret no one else does. His words fill the space around you and make your skin heat under his stare. 

“Oh you have no idea.”  ————————————————————————

(save me steve harrington in a tank top)

@aheadfullofsteverogers i remembered and hope you enjoy 💌

[reidmarieprentiss]

Love in the Club

Summary: Derek tries to cheer Spencer up by finding him someone to keep him company.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: light smut (18+), it's mostly just flirting, alcohol consumption, being in a club, Derek Morgan's charm

Word count: 9.7k

a/n: trying to make love in this club fr spencer come find me

main masterlist

The club was alive with energy, pulsing with vibrant lights and the thumping bass that seemed to sync with the beat of every heart in the room. Derek Morgan leaned casually against a table, his sharp eyes scanning the dance floor, but his attention kept drifting back to his friend, Spencer Reid. Spencer stood beside him, a drink in hand, fidgeting slightly with the glass as he observed the crowd with a thoughtful expression. Spencer wasn’t awkward in the same way he used to be; he could hold a conversation with women just fine, but often, he couldn’t quite say the right things that led to another date. Derek knew that was weighing on his friend tonight.

After another failed dating attempt, Derek had dragged Spencer out to this club, determined to find him a rebound. It wasn’t just that Spencer rarely dated; Derek was beginning to suspect that his friend’s tension had something to do with not getting laid. Spencer never really talked about that aspect of his life, but Derek couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of the problem. The man was brilliant, sure, but even geniuses needed to unwind.

They had been at the club for nearly two hours, moving from table to bar and back, chatting idly about the cases they’d worked on and the people they’d met, but Derek was starting to feel a little hopeless. Spencer hadn’t shown any interest in anyone, not even a glance that suggested he might be considering approaching someone. If Derek pushed too hard, Spencer would just retreat, and the last thing he wanted was to make his friend feel pitied.

But then, as if the universe decided to throw Derek a bone, the door to the club swung open, and you walked in with your friends. Derek noticed you immediately, the way you carried yourself with an easy confidence, your laughter carrying over the music as you talked with your friends. You were stunning, and Derek didn’t miss the way heads turned as you passed. He watched as you made your way to the bar, completely unaware of the eyes on you, Spencer’s included.

A grin tugged at the corners of Derek’s lips. Oh yeah, you’ll do just fine, he thought, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. Spencer was still nursing his drink, lost in his own thoughts, when Derek gave him a nudge.

“Hey, Reid,” Derek said, his tone casual but with a hint of mischief. “Let’s go get a refill.”

Spencer glanced at his nearly empty glass, then at Derek, nodding in agreement. He didn’t think anything of it—just assumed Derek wanted a change of scenery, maybe to catch a better view of the dance floor. Little did he know that Derek had a plan in motion. The two of them moved to the bar, finding a spot right next to you and your group, though Spencer didn’t notice you at first.

As Derek ordered their drinks, he couldn’t help but sneak a glance your way, his mind already working on how to introduce you to Spencer. The timing was just right, the music dipped, and your laughter bubbled up again, catching Spencer’s attention. Derek saw the moment Spencer’s gaze shifted, landing on you. There was a flicker of interest in his eyes that Derek had been waiting for all night.

The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched in a satisfied smile as he leaned over to Spencer, speaking just loud enough for you to hear. “Go say hi,” Derek encouraged, his voice low and encouraging. “You never know what might happen.”

Spencer, caught off guard, looked at Derek, then followed his line of sight directly to you. His eyes widened slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck, but Derek could tell he was intrigued. Spencer’s lips parted as if to speak, but Derek was already one step ahead, raising his glass in a silent toast before nodding toward you.

Spencer hesitated for only a moment, then straightened his shoulders, a determined glint in his eyes. Maybe tonight would be different after all.

—

As you're laughing with your friends, letting the music and vibrant energy of the club lift your spirits, your eyes scan the room, taking in the sights and sounds. It’s a typical night out—until you notice them.

Standing at the bar, two men catch your eye, and you can’t help but be intrigued. The first one, with a dark shirt that accentuates his muscular frame, locks eyes with you. His confident, almost smug smile sends a jolt of excitement through you. He nods in your direction, a gesture that feels both inviting and a little challenging. You feel your curiosity piqued, wondering what his story might be.

Then, your gaze shifts to the man beside him. He's quite the contrast—tall and lanky, with a mess of curls that look both effortless and charming. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and there's something almost endearingly shy about the way he glances around, seemingly unaware of how handsome he is. 

Without overthinking it, you flash them a smile, feeling a flutter of anticipation as you consider walking over. Tonight just got a whole lot more interesting.

—

Spencer noticed you smiling in their direction and concluded that you must be interested in Derek. After all, why wouldn’t you be? Derek is charming, bold, and magnetic in a way that Spencer has always admired. As these thoughts swirl around in Spencer’s head, he barely notices that Derek’s focus isn’t on the assumption Spencer has made. Derek is watching you closely, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. 

When Derek catches your eye, he gives you a confident nod and curls his finger, motioning for you to come closer. The gesture is smooth, almost effortless, and your curiosity piques even more. You glance back at your friends, who are already giggling and nudging you, urging you to go for it. With a final encouraging smile from your friends, you take a deep breath and stride towards the two men, the soft fabric of your black dress swaying with each step.

As you stopped a few feet away from the two men, you could see Derek's eyes light up, clearly relishing the situation. There was an air of confidence in his stance, a kind of smug satisfaction as if he knew exactly how things were going to play out. You took in both men with a quick, playful glance before letting your gaze rest on the one who had called you over.

"You called?" you said with a flirtatious tilt to your voice, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, mama, I did," Derek responded smoothly, his laughter rolling off his tongue. "Your hand looks a little empty. Do you need a drink to fill it?"

You gasped in mock surprise, widening your eyes. "You're so right! I do need a drink."

"Well, lucky for you, my friend here’s wallet is a bit too heavy," Derek chuckled, giving Spencer a friendly clap on the shoulder. The action jolted Spencer out of the daze he had been stuck in, lost in his own thoughts.

"What?" Spencer stammered, clearly taken off guard by the sudden attention.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction. Turning your gaze to Spencer, you offered him a polite smile, saying, "I think your friend is trying to set you up, but don’t worry, you don’t have to buy me a drink. I’m a big girl."

With that, you started to turn away, not wanting to become a pawn in whatever game these two might be playing. But just as you took your first step, Spencer's voice, tinged with sudden urgency, called out.

"Wait!"

You paused, turning back to him with a curious raise of your eyebrow. "Yes?"

Spencer took a breath, gathering his nerves before saying, "I would like to buy you a drink, if you’ll let me."

"Not because your friend said so?" you asked, narrowing your eyes playfully.

"No," Spencer replied with a soft, genuine smile that made your heart flutter just a little. "His peer pressure stopped working on me years ago."

Derek scoffed at that, shaking his head with a smirk. "It’s not peer pressure, it’s called being a wingman."

You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips as you turned to Derek with a teasing tone. "Can I give you a friendly word of advice from a young stranger?"

"Uh oh," Derek said, raising an eyebrow but nodding with a grin. "Sure, sweetheart."

"If someone is interested in us, they should talk to us themselves, not have their friends do it for them," you said smugly, crossing your arms with a playful tilt to your head.

Derek huffed in a teasing manner, clearly amused by your boldness. "I get a lecture for trying to help a friend?"

"This is nowhere near a lecture, sweetheart," you retorted, throwing his pet name back at him with a wink.

Spencer, now more at ease, tried to suppress a laugh, clearly entertained by the exchange. He watched the scene unfold, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Derek raised his hands in surrender, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Feisty… she's all yours, Reid."

"Actually, he’s all mine," you corrected with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Go wingman for yourself."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "I like you."

"I'm warming up to you," you teased back, the banter flowing easily now. Your eyes flicked to your group of friends before landing on one of them. You pointed subtly. "You see that girl right there? Her name’s Jade."

Derek followed your gesture, his gaze landing on the friend you indicated. "Yeah?"

"She’s going to love you. Go get her, tiger," you said with a wink.

Derek's grin grew wider as he fist-bumped you, clearly impressed and slightly amazed by your confidence. "You’re something else, you know that?"

You laughed lightly, the sound warm and genuine. "I’ve been told."

As Derek made his way over to your friend, you turned your full attention back to Spencer. The atmosphere between you felt a bit more intimate now, the tension having shifted into something lighter, something promising. Spencer gave you a shy but genuine smile, one that hinted at the quiet confidence beneath his surface.

"So," you said, your voice softer now as you leaned in just slightly, "how about that drink?"

Spencer’s eyes lit up, and for the first time that night, he felt completely at ease. "I’d love to."

—

After getting your drinks, you glanced around the club, searching for a quieter spot away from the thumping bass and flashing lights of the dance floor. You spotted a cozy booth nestled in a corner, offering just enough privacy for conversation without being too far removed from the lively energy of the room. You led Spencer over, and he followed, still processing the fact that you were genuinely interested in spending time with him.

As you slid into the booth, Spencer expected you to take the seat across from him, but to his pleasant surprise, you scooted in right next to him. The proximity sent a thrill through him, but he quickly reminded himself to stay cool. You were close enough that he could smell the faint hint of your perfume—something sweet and subtle that matched the playful spark in your eyes.

You turned to him with a grin, breaking the silence. "Alright, handsome. First things first, what is your name, age, and social security number?"

Spencer blinked, caught off guard by the sudden, playful interrogation. Then, before he could stop himself, he let out a genuine laugh, the sound ringing with surprise and amusement. "Spencer Reid, 27, and not a chance."

"Fair, fair," you giggled, pleased to have made him laugh so easily. "Well, Spencer Reid, I’m Y/N Johnson, 23, and I love sarcasm."

Spencer chuckled again, there was something about you—your easy confidence, the way you didn’t take things too seriously—that was incredibly refreshing. He found himself smiling more than he had in a while, feeling more relaxed than he usually did in these situations.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Spencer said, his voice warm and sincere. "I have to say, that’s one of the most efficient icebreakers I’ve encountered."

You shrugged with a playful grin. "Why waste time, right? Besides, you can learn a lot about someone based on their reaction to sarcasm."

"Oh, really?" Spencer’s tone was light, teasing. "And what did you learn about me?"

"Hmm…" You pretended to think for a moment, tapping your chin dramatically. "I learned that you’ve got a great laugh, and that you’re not easily intimidated. Both good signs."

Spencer felt a warmth spread through his chest at your words. "Well, I’ve learned that you’re quick on your feet and that you know how to keep a conversation interesting."

You gave him a small, appreciative nod, enjoying the back-and-forth banter. "I try my best."

Spencer smiled, but you could see the slight hesitation in his eyes as if he wasn’t quite sure where to take the conversation next. It was as if he was cautious about saying the wrong thing, unsure of the next step. His fingers fidgeted slightly with the edge of his glass, betraying the nervous energy he was trying to keep under wraps.

Sensing his uncertainty, you decided to take the reins, easing the pressure off him. With a playful lilt in your voice, you asked, "So, do you often have your friend hit on women for you?"

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly shook his head, his curls bouncing with the motion. "No, no," he blurted out, clearly flustered. "Actually, that has never happened before. Derek—uh—he’s just… well, he’s always been a bit more confident than I am in these situations."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his earnest response, finding his honesty endearing. There was something incredibly refreshing about how straightforward he was, even in his nervousness. The way he fidgeted slightly with the edge of his sleeve, his eyes occasionally darting up to meet yours before quickly looking away, only added to the charm of the moment.

“Well, I happen to think you’re doing just fine,” you said with a reassuring smile, hoping to ease some of the tension you sensed in him.

Spencer blushed, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink as he looked down at the table, clearly touched by your words. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost as if he was unsure whether he deserved the compliment.

You leaned in slightly, wanting to make sure he heard the sincerity in your next words. “And for future reference, even if you’re awkward, it’s always more appealing to hear right from the man himself.” You gave him a playful wink, trying to lighten the mood.

But Spencer seemed to catch on to the phrase “future reference” in a way you hadn’t intended. The way his eyes flickered with a hint of worry, the way his fingers tightened around his cup—he was clearly picking up on something more. It was as if he thought you were already planning on not seeing him again, and the idea unsettled him. 

“Noted,” he replied, his tone a touch more subdued than before, though he tried to mask it with a polite smile. But the way he said it, you could tell he didn’t like the sound of those words, like he feared this might be your first and last date.

You felt a pang of guilt, realizing how he might have misunderstood your comment. The last thing you wanted was for Spencer to think you were already planning an exit strategy. You leaned forward slightly, your voice softening as you tried to lighten the moment.

“I mean, how odd would it be if you sent that man to talk to me again?” you joked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Spencer's lips curled into a genuine smile, a light chuckle escaping him as he snorted in amusement. “I don’t think that will be a problem,” he said, his eyes twinkling with humor. “It looks like he’s gotten quite cozy with your friend.”

Curious, you followed his gaze across the room to where Derek and Jade were on the dance floor. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, a smirk tugging at your lips as you watched the two of them swaying together, their bodies close and their movements almost synchronized. Jade was laughing at something Derek had whispered in her ear, clearly enjoying herself, while Derek’s hand rested comfortably on her waist, pulling her closer with each step.

“Well, would you look at that,” you murmured, a knowing smile spreading across your face as you turned back to Spencer. “Looks like they’re having a good time.”

“Apparently so,” Spencer agreed, the tension between the two of you easing as the conversation shifted. He seemed more relaxed now, his earlier nervousness fading into the background. The sight of his friend, normally so confident and assured, now completely absorbed in Jade’s company, seemed to have brought a sense of camaraderie to the moment.

You smiled warmly at Spencer, feeling the connection between you both grow stronger with each passing second. “I guess that means you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night.”

Spencer’s eyes met yours, his expression softening. “I think I’m okay with that.”

—

You and Spencer chatted for a bit longer, the conversation flowing easily between you as the evening wore on. You each had one more drink, the atmosphere growing even more relaxed as the warmth of the alcohol settled in. Across the room, Derek and Jade were still tearing it up on the dance floor, their energy seemingly endless as they moved to the beat, drawing attention from nearly everyone around them.

Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he watched them, a small, amused laugh escaping him when Derek dipped Jade dramatically, earning a playful squeal from her. You found yourself smiling too, feeling the infectious energy from their joy.

After a moment, you turned your attention back to Spencer, a curious thought crossing your mind. You leaned in closer, your eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. “Tell me, Spencer,” you began, your voice soft yet teasing.

He looked at you, mirroring your movement by leaning in as well. “Mhm?” he hummed in response, his gaze fixed on yours, clearly intrigued by whatever question you had in mind.

“Do you dance?” you asked, your tone carrying a hint of mischief.

Spencer’s eyebrows raised slightly, a small, almost sheepish smile playing on his lips as he considered your question. “What do you think?” he replied, his voice light but carrying a note of curiosity.

You tilted your head, pretending to scrutinize him for a moment before answering. “I think you’re secretly really good, but you don’t want anyone to know,” you said with a grin, your voice full of playful certainty.

Spencer blinked in surprise, a chuckle escaping him as he shook his head in disbelief. “Wow, you’re good,” he admitted, clearly impressed by your deduction. Then, with a teasing smile, he asked, “Are you sure you’re not a profiler?”

You blinked back at him, genuinely confused by the term. “A what?” you asked, furrowing your brow as you tried to make sense of it.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as he realized you didn’t catch the reference, having told you he worked for the FBI but not what he did. His nervousness kicked in, and before he could stop himself, he launched into a rambling explanation.

“Oh, uh, profiling, it’s what we do. We study criminal behavior, analyze patterns, and use psychological principles to create profiles of offenders, you know, to help catch them. It’s all about reading people, understanding their motivations, predicting their next moves based on subtle cues and details, even things they might not be consciously aware of. It’s kind of like… well, I guess it’s sort of like Sherlock Holmes in a way, but more rooted in psychology than deduction. Not that deduction isn’t involved, because it is, but it’s more about interpreting behaviors in a broader context, like understanding why someone would commit a crime rather than just how they did it. So, when I said ‘profiler,’ I meant that you’re good at reading people, like how we do when we’re on a case, but—”

He paused, realizing he had been speaking faster and faster, his words tumbling out in an anxious rush. He blinked a few times, his expression shifting to one of mild embarrassment as he realized he had been rambling.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I tend to do that sometimes.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his explanation, finding his enthusiasm and the way he got lost in his own thoughts utterly endearing. As he tried to regain his composure, you leaned in slightly, your voice playful and teasing. “Do what? Share your super sexy brain with the world? If anything, you should be apologizing for not doing it sooner.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his breath catching slightly as your words registered. He was clearly taken aback, not at all expecting you to say something like that. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, which was a rare occurrence for him. 

“Uh… I… I—” he stammered, trying to form a coherent response. His mind raced, searching for the right thing to say, but the unexpected compliment had him completely flustered. He wasn’t used to people describing his intelligence in such a, well, flattering way, and it was clear he didn’t know how to handle it.

You chuckled softly, enjoying his reaction. There was something incredibly endearing about seeing someone so brilliant and composed be thrown off balance by a simple compliment. “What?” you asked with a grin, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not used to people complimenting your brain?”

Spencer finally managed to regain some of his composure, though the blush still lingered on his cheeks. “Not quite like that,” he admitted, his voice a little shaky but filled with a shy kind of gratitude. “Most people don’t really… put it that way.”

“Well, I did,” you replied, your tone sincere but still light, though the playful glint in your eyes remained. “And I meant it. You’ve got a sexy mind, Spencer.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he stammered out a soft, “Th–thank you,” clearly still trying to process the unexpected praise. His fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of his sleeve, betraying just how flustered he was.

You leaned in a little closer, your smile warm and kind as you decided to push him just a bit further. “I don’t want to fully break you,” you said, your voice dropping to a more teasing whisper, “but you do know that all”—you made a small gesture that encompassed his entire being—“of you is sexy. Yeah?”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed completely speechless. It was as if your words had short-circuited his brain. He blinked rapidly, trying to grasp onto something, anything, that would allow him to form a coherent response. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, as if he was unsure what to say or how to respond to such a straightforward compliment.

“I… um…” he managed to get out, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart was racing, and he felt like the room had suddenly grown warmer. The way you looked at him, with such sincerity and a touch of playful confidence, left him feeling both incredibly flattered and slightly overwhelmed.

Seeing his reaction, you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound gentle and affectionate. “You don’t have to say anything,” you assured him, giving his arm a light, reassuring squeeze. “Just… you know, let it sink in.”

Spencer nodded, still at a loss for words, but his expression softened, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He felt a strange mix of emotions—embarrassment, gratitude, disbelief—but above all, he felt seen in a way he hadn’t experienced before. And that, more than anything, left him feeling something he wasn’t entirely accustomed to: confident.

“Okay,” he finally said, his voice steadying just a bit. “I’ll, um… I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good,” you replied with a wink, letting the moment settle between you both. The atmosphere between you shifted slightly, the air charged with playfulness and something a bit more electric. “So, sexy, care to dance? Prove me right?”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the invitation. He managed a small smile, his nervousness evident as he replied, “I will absolutely prove you wrong, but if you want to dance, I will.”

You grinned at his response, appreciating his willingness to step outside his comfort zone, even if he was convinced he’d mess it up. “That’s what I like to hear. Let’s go, big boy,” you said with a playful nudge.

Spencer felt his heart race again, the term "big boy" throwing him for a loop. He had never been referred to as "big" in his life. Skinny, sure. Flagpole, string bean, pipe cleaner—all the nicknames he had endured growing up flashed through his mind. But "big"? That was new, and it made him feel something unfamiliar but oddly comforting.

As the two of you made your way to the dance floor, you caught Jade’s eye and sent her a wink, a silent message that you had things under control. She responded with a knowing grin, clearly approving of the way the evening was unfolding. Meanwhile, Derek gave Spencer a subtle nod and a smirk, a silent acknowledgment that his plan to nudge Spencer out of his shell was working. Spencer was slowly coming to realize that you were doing just that—breaking him out of his shell, piece by piece, and he wasn’t sure if he was more terrified or exhilarated by it.

Once you reached the floor, you turned to face Spencer, craning your neck to look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. He was so tall, and the way you had to tilt your head back slightly to meet his eyes made him feel a little self-conscious, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you looked like you were enjoying every second of it.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?” you asked, your tone gentle, not at all condescending. You just wanted to confirm what you already suspected.

Spencer shook his head, his lips curving into a shy smile. “No, never really had the opportunity,” he admitted, his voice a little quieter, almost as if he was embarrassed to confess it.

You nodded in understanding, your eyes softening as you reached out to bridge the gap between you both. “Can I touch you?” you asked, your voice calm and reassuring.

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing at the sudden question. “What?” he blurted out, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he processed what you’d just said.

You bit back a laugh, realizing how your words might have come across. “Can I move your hands?” you rephrased, your tone gentle and patient.

Relief washed over Spencer, and he quickly nodded, eager to follow your lead. You carefully guided his hands to your hips, the warmth of your body seeping through the fabric of your dress as you placed them just where you wanted them. Then, with a soft smile, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers brushing through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Is this okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, wanting to make sure he was comfortable.

Spencer swallowed hard, his pulse quickening at the proximity between you both. “Yeah,” he managed to say, though his voice wavered slightly. “But, uh, this isn’t… this isn’t really dancing.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment, your eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, I’m sorry, dance expert,” you teased, your tone light and playful. “Would you like me to turn around and put my ass on you? I figured you were more of a gentleman.”

Spencer’s face turned a deep shade of red, the color creeping all the way up to his ears as he realized what you were implying. The idea of you dancing like that—well, it was almost too much for him to handle. “N-no, that’s… I mean, I’m… I’m okay with this,” he stammered, his voice barely audible as he tried to keep his composure.

You smiled at his flustered response, clearly enjoying how easy it was to get under his skin. “Good,” you said softly, moving your hips slightly in time with the music, coaxing him to follow your lead. “Because I like this too.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was new territory for him, but with you guiding him, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he could manage to survive the night without dying of embarrassment.

With the music providing a clear rhythm, something easy to follow, you began moving your hips under Spencer’s hands, encouraging him to feel the beat along with you. He was standing still, his posture tense as he tried to figure out what to do. His eyes darted around nervously, his uncertainty palpable. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, overthinking every little movement. It was both endearing and a little heartbreaking.

You smiled warmly, finding his awkwardness incredibly charming, and gently placed your hands on his waist, guiding his hips to sway in time with yours. “Just let loose,” you coaxed, your voice soft and reassuring as you tried to ease his anxiety. “Trust me, no one cares what you’re doing.”

Spencer’s gaze shifted briefly to where Derek was, his face scrunching slightly in concern. “Derek will,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with the worry of being judged by his friend.

You chuckled softly, understanding where he was coming from. Derek was known for his confidence, especially on the dance floor, and it made sense that Spencer would feel self-conscious in comparison. “Do you care what he thinks?” you asked, your tone gentle, wanting to reassure him.

“A little, yeah,” Spencer admitted, his honesty coming through in a way that made you want to protect him from those insecurities.

You thought for a moment, then an idea sparked, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “Okay… what do you say we give him a show then?”

Spencer blinked, his eyes widening slightly as he processed your suggestion. “Ok–okay,” he stammered, not entirely sure what you had in mind but trusting you nonetheless.

With that, you slid your hands back up around his neck, pulling his head closer to yours so that your foreheads were almost touching. Spencer’s breath hitched as he felt the intimacy of the moment, his senses overwhelmed by your proximity. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, you straddled one of his thighs, your movements fluid and confident as you began to grind your hips, dancing to the beat with a natural grace that Spencer could hardly believe.

To anyone watching, it was clear you were putting on a show, the kind that would definitely catch Derek’s attention. But for Spencer? His mind was reeling. The sensation of your body moving against his, the warmth of your skin, the way your fingers played with the curls at the base of his neck—it was all too much and yet not enough at the same time. He could barely think, his brain struggling to keep up with the flood of sensations.

His hands tightened slightly on your hips, his body instinctively following your lead as he began to move with you. The nervous tension in him started to melt away, replaced by awe and disbelief. The music, the lights, the feel of you so close—it was a heady combination, and Spencer found himself getting lost in it, the world around him fading as he focused solely on you.

And then, in a moment of pure instinct, Spencer leaned in just a bit closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I think… I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

You smiled, feeling a thrill at the progress he was making, and whispered back, “I knew you would, sexy.” Spencer’s heart skipped a beat at the compliment, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a surge of confidence. 

All of a sudden, you heard a loud whoop behind you, followed by a familiar man’s voice calling out, “Yeah, Reid!” The unmistakable cheer belonged to Derek, his excitement evident as he celebrated Spencer’s unexpected moment in the spotlight.

Spencer chuckled softly in your ear, the warm sound sending a delicious shiver down your spine and making your pulse throb all over your body. The sensation was intoxicating, a blend of thrill and anticipation. “It’s working,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your skin in a way that made your heart race even faster.

“Mhm,” you breathed out, your voice catching slightly as the pleasure of your own movements began to consume you. The rhythm of the music, the feel of his body against yours—it was all too good. “Maybe… maybe we can step it up?” The words came out almost as a whisper, your breath hitching as you felt the heat between you both intensify.

Spencer’s lips were so close to your ear that you could feel his curiosity in the way his breath hitched. “How?” he asked, genuinely intrigued, his voice full of anticipation.

Without hesitating, you let your hand slide up into Spencer’s hair, your fingers tangling gently in his soft curls. You tugged him back slightly, creating just enough space between you so that you could look into his eyes. The sight of his flushed face and wide, curious eyes made your pulse quicken. Then, with a boldness fueled by the moment, you leaned in and planted a wet, lingering kiss on his plump lips.

Spencer froze for the briefest of moments, his mind catching up with what was happening. But it took only seconds before he responded, his body instinctively leaning into yours. One of his hands slid from your hip to cup your face, the touch gentle yet firm as he held you close, not wanting the kiss to end. His lips moved against yours with surprising tenderness, a mix of hesitancy and eagerness that made your heart flutter.

The world around you seemed to disappear as you melted into the kiss, the music, the lights, even Derek’s cheers fading into the background. It was just the two of you, connected in a way that was both thrilling and unexpected. Spencer, normally so reserved and cautious, was now fully engaged, his lips sliding against yours with increasing confidence.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, you could see the wonder in Spencer’s eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. His hand still cradled your face, his thumb brushing your cheek gently as he tried to steady his breathing.

“That… that was…” Spencer started, his voice hushed, almost reverent.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, your lips curling into a satisfied smile. “It was.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, both caught in the lingering warmth of the kiss. Then, slowly, Spencer’s lips turned up into a shy, but undeniably pleased, smile. “I think we definitely gave them a show,” he said, his voice tinged with pride.

“Can I say something… bold, Spencer?” you asked, your voice low and a little hesitant. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race as you waited for his response, wondering if you were about to cross a line or take things to a new level.

Spencer looked at you, his gaze curious and open, though there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Okay,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, clearly bracing himself for whatever you were about to say.

You took a deep breath, leaning in just a little closer so that your lips were near his ear. “What I want to do now,” you began, your voice a sultry whisper, “really isn’t for public eyes.”

The words hung in the air between you, charged with anticipation. Spencer’s breath caught, his eyes widening slightly as he processed what you’d just said. The implications of your statement sent a thrill through him, and for a moment, he was rendered speechless, his mind racing to catch up.

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tried to formulate a response. “Oh,” he managed to say, his voice a little shaky but full of intrigued curiosity. His mind reeled with the possibilities, and he found himself struggling to maintain his composure. The thought of what you might want to do, something private, something just for the two of you, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your expression playful yet sincere. “So,” you said, letting your hands slide down his chest slowly, “how about we get out of here?”

Spencer nodded, the decision coming more easily than he expected. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little more confident this time. “Let’s go.”

—

“Y/N…” Spencer groaned, his voice strained as you pushed him against the door of his apartment, the sudden impact sending a shiver down his spine. His hands instinctively gripped your waist, trying to ground himself as the intensity of the moment took over.

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, finding his responsiveness incredibly alluring. “You’re so vocal,” you teased, your breath hot against his neck as you pressed your body closer to his, relishing the way he seemed to melt under your touch.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed, embarrassment and desire flooding through him. “Is—is that okay?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly as he struggled to maintain control. He wasn’t used to letting go like this, to allowing himself to be so openly expressive, and part of him worried he might be too much, too intense.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your gaze filled with both reassurance and desire. “Okay?” you repeated, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “It’s so hot, Spencer.”

His breath hitched at your words, the approval and encouragement sending a rush of heat through his body. Before he could respond, you leaned in and bit down on his collarbone, the sharp sensation making him whine high in his throat, a sound that was as surprising to him as it was to you.

The noise was raw, unfiltered, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. You felt him tense under your bite, his hands tightening on your waist as he gasped, the sound vibrating through his chest. It was clear that every nerve in his body was on high alert, and the way he reacted to your touch only fueled your own desire.

You soothed the bite with your tongue, your lips brushing against his skin as you whispered, “You have no idea how much that turns me on.”

Spencer’s breath shuddered, his mind spinning as he tried to process the pleasure and the overwhelming intimacy of the moment. He had never felt anything like this before—this combination of need, connection, and pure, unadulterated desire. And the fact that it was with you made it all the more intoxicating.

He let out another soft groan, his hands moving down to your ass as he pulled you closer, his lips searching for yours. When he found them, the kiss was deep, hungry, and filled with a newfound confidence. 

“Mmm, yeah, take what you want,” you mumbled against his lips, the words muffled by the intensity of the kiss. You could feel the desperation in Spencer’s touch, the way his hands gripped you tighter as if afraid you might slip away. His breath hitched, and he let out a pitiful moan that made your pulse race even faster.

“Oh god,” he moaned, the sound almost broken, as if he was struggling to keep himself together under the weight of his desire.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, searching for that flicker of certainty. “Do you know what you want, baby?” you asked softly, your voice a soothing contrast to the heat between you. “Have you done this before?”

Spencer nodded, his face flushed with arousal and nerves. “A few times,” he admitted, his voice trembling with the effort to stay composed.

But the moment you started to pull back, he panicked, his eyes widening in fear that he might have said something wrong. He shook his head rapidly, his grip on you tightening as if trying to keep you close. “No, please—” he started, his voice laced with anxiety.

“Calm down, Spencer,” you said gently, running your hands soothingly over his arms, trying to reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere.” Your words and the gentle touch seemed to help, and you could see some of the tension leave his shoulders.

He took a deep, steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he opened them again, there was a raw honesty in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat. “I really want you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with so much need that it made your knees weak.

“How do you want me?” you asked, your lips brushing against his neck as you resumed your kisses, eager to hear him say it, to know what he needed.

“On top of me,” he breathed out, the words escaping like a prayer, as if it was all he could manage to articulate in that moment.

Your breath hitched at his admission, the boldness of it sending a thrill through you. “Fuck,” you whispered, the urgency in your voice matching the fire in your veins. “Bed, now.”

Without another word, Spencer grabbed your hand, leading you toward the bedroom. His normally methodical mind was lost in the haze of desire, and all he could think about was getting you into that bed, where he could have you the way he wanted. The way you both wanted.

Clothes were gone within the blink of an eye, a flurry of movement and heated touches that left you both bare and exposed to each other. Spencer barely had time to take in the sight of you, to truly appreciate the way your skin glowed in the dim light of the room, before the need between you both took over. Before he knew it, he was beneath you, and all thoughts of slowing down evaporated as the intensity of the moment consumed him.

“Oh!” Spencer groaned, the sound deep and raw as he felt the overwhelming sensation of you sinking down on him. The way you moved around him, the rhythm of your bodies perfectly in sync, made his head spin, and he couldn’t stop the desperate noises escaping his lips as he thrust up into you, his need for you undeniable.

“You poor thing, haven’t been touched in so long, huh?” you taunted affectionately, your voice a blend of tenderness and teasing as you watched Spencer’s reaction. His vulnerability was laid bare before you, and it only made the moment between you even more intense.

“Nuh uh,” Spencer managed to shake his head, his mouth open, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold on, to keep from losing control too soon. The pleasure was overwhelming, and every fiber of his being was focused on you, on this moment, on the sensation of finally being with someone who cared.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, your hand gently cupping his face, your thumb brushing across his cheek. “Look at me.”

Spencer forced his eyes open, blinking a few times before they locked onto yours. The instant his gaze met yours, he felt a swell of emotion in his chest, a deep, overwhelming sense of connection and affection that nearly took his breath away. But then, as his eyes traveled down your body, taking in the sight of you above him, that swell of emotion shifted—traveling lower, pooling in his stomach, the intensity of it making him realize just how close he was to the edge.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice strained with both apology and desperation as he fought against the inevitable.

“Sorry? For what?” you asked, genuinely puzzled, your brows furrowing in concern as you tried to understand his sudden worry.

But before he could respond, before he could explain, Spencer couldn’t hold back any longer. The build-up had been too much, the combination of physical and emotional intensity pushing him past his limit. His entire body tensed beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he came, a choked gasp escaping his lips as the release hit him harder than he ever could have anticipated.

For a moment, he was lost in the sensation, his mind going blank as the pleasure washed over him in waves. And then, as the intensity began to ebb, Spencer’s eyes fluttered open again, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. 

“Oh my god… this is so humiliating,” Spencer mumbled, his voice muffled as he turned his head into the pillow, trying to hide the deep blush that spread across his cheeks. The embarrassment of finishing too soon, combined with the overwhelming emotions of the moment, made him feel exposed in a way he hadn’t expected.

But before he could fully retreat into his own self-consciousness, you began moving again, your hips rolling with a deliberate, confident rhythm. The sudden jolt of sensation made him gasp, his body arching slightly as the oversensitivity hit him like a shockwave. “Ahhhh,” he whined, the sound high and desperate as he gripped the sheets beneath him, barely able to process what was happening. “What are you doing?” 

“Finishing,” you replied with a smirk, your voice laced with both determination and playful confidence. You didn’t plan on stopping until you reached your peak, and you were more than happy to take Spencer along for the ride. The way he reacted to your touch, the combination of pleasure and overstimulation evident in his every breath, only spurred you on.

Spencer’s mind was a whirlwind of sensation and emotion. The intensity of your movements, the way you were so unapologetically taking control, left him dizzy and overwhelmed in the best possible way. It was almost too much, yet he couldn’t bring himself to ask you to stop. In fact, with every passing second, he found himself sinking deeper into the experience, surrendering completely to the pleasure you were giving him.

As he watched you above him, your expression one of focused desire, something clicked inside him. The way you took charge, the way you seemed to know exactly what you wanted and how to get it—it was exhilarating. In that moment, despite the oversensitivity, despite the embarrassment he felt earlier, Spencer realized something that sent a jolt of warmth through his chest: he might be in love.

The thought was sudden, almost startling, but it was undeniable. The connection between you both, the way you made him feel—safe, desired, understood—it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. And as you moved closer to your own climax, Spencer found himself lost in you, his heart swelling with emotions he didn’t fully understand but knew were real.

When you finally reached your climax, the sound of your pleasure mixed with his soft, breathless moans, Spencer couldn’t help but watch you, completely captivated. The sight of you in that moment, powerful and radiant, made his heart race all over again, and he knew that whatever this was between you two, he wanted more of it. He wanted more of you.

—

Spencer fell asleep that night, more content than he could remember being in a long time, with you nestled comfortably in his arms. The warmth of your body pressed against his, the soft rhythm of your breathing, lulled him into the most peaceful sleep he’d had in years. It felt perfect, like a moment he wanted to stretch into forever.

But when Spencer woke up, the first thing he noticed was how the space beside him was empty, the warmth of your presence long gone. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the dim light filtering through the curtains. As his gaze drifted around the room, he found you sitting at the edge of the bed, your shoulders hunched inward, your body trembling ever so slightly. Spencer's heart clenched in his chest, worry immediately overtaking him. Were you crying?

“Hey, hey,” Spencer murmured, his voice soft and laced with concern as he reached out to rub a comforting hand across your back. “Are you okay?”

You turned to face him, and to Spencer’s surprise, instead of tear-streaked cheeks, he was met with a smile—a somewhat bewildered, almost amused smile. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, your voice a bit shaky but clearly not from sadness.

Spencer’s brow furrowed, confusion settling in. “What’s going on?” he asked gently, his hand still resting on your back, offering warmth and support.

You held up a small framed photo, one Spencer hadn’t noticed you holding before. The frame was simple, with a picture of the team gathered in David Rossi’s kitchen, all smiles and laughter, taken during one of those famous cooking lessons that always ended with full stomachs and happy memories. Spencer’s confusion only deepened as he noticed the way you were staring at the photo.

“Why do you have a picture with my dad?” you asked, your tone light, but the question itself was heavy, full of implications that Spencer couldn’t quite grasp yet.

Spencer blinked, absolutely baffled by your words. “Your…dad?” he repeated slowly, as if trying to make sure he heard you correctly.

You nodded, your eyes flickering between Spencer and the photo. “Yeah, David Rossi. How do you know him?”

For a moment, Spencer was at a complete loss for words. He took the frame from your hands, staring down at the familiar image of the team—his family—and suddenly, the reality of your words hit him like a ton of bricks. David Rossi…your father? 

Spencer swallowed, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile this new information with everything he knew about you and Rossi. “David Rossi is your father?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, still trying to wrap his head around the idea.

You nodded again, your smile a little wider now, though still tinged with the same disbelief that Spencer was feeling. “Yeah, he is,” you confirmed softly, almost as if you were still trying to process it yourself. “How do you know him?”

Spencer’s thoughts raced as he tried to find the right words to explain, his mind buzzing with a thousand questions of his own. But for now, he knew there was only one thing he could say. “He’s…he’s my friend. My colleague. We work together at the BAU.”

Your eyes widened at that, clearly not expecting that answer. “The BAU?” you echoed, your voice tinged with surprise. “As in, the Behavioral Analysis Unit?”

Spencer nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah…that’s where I work. With Rossi.”

You both sat there in silence for a moment, the weight of the revelation hanging heavy in the air. Spencer could see the gears turning in your mind, just as they were in his. There were so many things to unpack, so many questions left unanswered, but right now, all he could focus on was the fact that somehow, against all odds, your paths had crossed in a way neither of you could have ever predicted.

“Oh!” you suddenly exclaimed, hopping in place as if the realization had struck you like a bolt of lightning.

Spencer, startled by your outburst, nearly jumped out of his skin. “What? What is it?” he asked, his eyes wide with alarm.

“That’s why your job sounded so familiar last night!” you continued, excitement bubbling in your voice. “You didn’t say you worked for the BAU, though. And, well, I was more focused on your lips, honestly. That’s so funny!”

Spencer felt his cheeks heat up at your words, his mind replaying the events of last night. But just as quickly, the color drained from his face as another, more terrifying thought took hold. “Oh god,” he muttered, a cold dread settling in his stomach.

“Now what?” you asked, your brows furrowing in concern at the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“I slept with Rossi’s daughter,” Spencer whispered, his voice laced with horror as if he were confessing a crime.

“Oh…” you replied, the weight of his words sinking in. “Yeah, yeah, you did.”

“He’s going to kill me,” Spencer said, his voice rising with panic. He could already imagine Rossi’s stern gaze, the questioning, the inevitable lecture, and then…death. There was no way he was getting out of this alive.

“More than likely, yes,” you agreed with a playful grin, clearly enjoying the moment a bit more than Spencer was.

“How do we stop that from happening?” Spencer asked, his mind racing for a solution, any solution, that didn’t involve Rossi burying him six feet under.

You tilted your head thoughtfully before offering a lighthearted suggestion. “Uh, you could take me on a date?” you proposed, a twinkle in your eye. “Then I can tell him all about the charming man I met at the…library!”

Spencer blinked at you, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. “The library?” he echoed, half in disbelief, half in awe of your quick thinking.

“Yes, the library,” you repeated with a playful nod. “Where all respectable, intelligent people meet. I’m sure he’ll approve.”

Spencer couldn’t help but crack a smile, despite the lingering fear gnawing at him. “You think that’ll work?”

You shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “It’s worth a shot. Besides, it’s better than the alternative, right?”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. A date sounds…much better.”

“Great!” you said, your smile widening as you leaned in a little closer. “So, Spencer Reid, how about that date?”

Spencer’s heart fluttered at the way you looked at him, the tension from moments before slowly easing. “I’d love to take you on a date,” he replied, his voice softening as he met your gaze.

“Good,” you said with a satisfied grin. “Because I’d love to go on one.”

As the two of you exchanged smiles, the reality of the situation seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the prospect of something new, something exciting. And while the thought of facing Rossi still loomed in the back of Spencer’s mind, for now, he was content to focus on you—the charming, intelligent woman who had just turned his world upside down in the most unexpected way.

—

“Y/N, darling, what are you doing here?” Rossi’s voice carried a note of surprise as he spotted you walking into the bar where the team was gathered for one of their usual outings. His brow arched in curiosity, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You approached the group with a calm but determined expression, though your heart was pounding in your chest. You glanced at Spencer for a moment, offering him a small, reassuring smile before turning back to your father. “Well, Dad… I actually wanted to tell you something,” you began, taking a steadying breath. “I thought it might be a good time to let you know that Spencer and I have started seeing each other.”

“What?” The collective exclamation from the team echoed through the bar, their voices a mix of surprise and intrigue. All eyes were suddenly on you and Spencer, the weight of their attention palpable.

Rossi, however, didn’t seem nearly as shocked as the others. In fact, a knowing smile slowly spread across his face, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he had already pieced together the puzzle before you even spoke. “I see,” he said with a calm, measured tone, the smile never leaving his face. “How did you two meet?”

Before either of you could think of a more elaborate lie, you and Spencer both blurted out at the same time, “At the library.”

The synchronized response was so sudden and so in sync that it left no room for doubt—except perhaps about how rehearsed it sounded. Derek, who had been quietly observing from the side (and who knew the truth), couldn’t hold back his reaction. A loud snort escaped him, followed by a burst of laughter as he leaned back in his seat, clearly amused by the entire situation.

“Yeah, sure you did,” Derek managed between laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Spencer’s face flushed with embarrassment, but he held his ground, offering a weak nod. “It’s true!” he insisted, though the faint crack in his voice didn’t help his case.

You quickly jumped in, trying to salvage the situation. “Yeah, it’s true! We both… um… love reading, so it just made sense that we’d meet there.”

Rossi’s smile widened, and he nodded slowly, clearly not buying a word of it but also not pressing further—for now. “Well, I’m glad to hear you two have found something in common,” he said smoothly, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To young love and… libraries.”

The rest of the team, while still processing the news, followed suit, lifting their glasses in a chorus of chuckles and murmured congratulations. Spencer let out a breath he was holding, relieved that, at least for now, Rossi wasn’t planning his demise.

As you clinked glasses with Spencer, you couldn’t help but lean in and whisper with a playful smirk, “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Spencer smiled back, though his eyes still held a hint of nervousness. “I just hope he never asks which library.”

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand under the table. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Doctor Reid.”

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