#it could have been a new year's image. if i had made it on new years. but i didn't. so it's here NOW....

[keeryhours]

the needle and the damage done - chapter one

Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x female! reader

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Summary:

37 year old Eddie Munson is a washed up rockstar - reckless, wild, and heavily addicted to drugs. His drug use tore apart his band and his family. It’s up to him to make things right.

A bit of a prologue. Eddie destroys his own life.

Warnings:

(18+), HEAVY warning for drugs (weed, psychedelics, cocaine, pills, heroin), alcohol, addiction, one slightly smutty part, p in v, pregnancy, birth, medical conditions, rockstar and addict behavior, cycle of trauma, ANGST, mention of shitty parents, broken families

Word Count: 3k

A/N:

I hope you enjoy this new series! Please mind the triggers and warnings!

—

Corroded Coffin was Eddie’s first baby.

He started that band in middle school with his closest friends. He gave it his everything all throughout school, to the point that he repeated his senior year three times and still never graduated.

But that didn’t matter, because it paid off. Corroded Coffin made it big. Huge, in fact. Like playing three sold out shows in a row at Madison Square Garden big.

You had been there from the beginning, too. Friends since 3rd grade, growing up together in Forest Hills trailer park. Where Wayne and Eddie always gave you sanctuary from your own shitty parents.

You and Eddie started dating in 10th grade. It felt like it had been forever coming. You had both been crushing on each other since the beginning, both too scared to say anything about it. But one day, after a Hellfire campaign, Eddie cornered you in the drama room and asked you out. The rest was history, as they say.

You started working at Benny’s after graduation, waiting for Eddie to catch up with you. A few years later and Eddie was coming in with the mail screaming - the tapes the guys had sent off to record labels had paid off. One wanted to meet them.

It was a whirlwind of fame and music after that. Things happened so quickly it made your head spin. They recorded an album, released it to critical and fan acclaim, went on a tour. Eddie swept you off your feet and you spent 4 months living on the tour bus, seeing the country with him and the guys. Every show sold out, fans lining up outside after trying for even a glimpse of the band. They were usually happy to stop for autographs, unless they had to be somewhere, an interview or a magazine shoot.

The suits insisted it would be better for the band’s image if they all appeared single, but Eddie was having none of that. He paraded you around like his personal trophy, showing you off to anyone who would see. It was a little embarrassing, but you loved him.

Eddie pulled you onstage at the final show of the first tour. You were terrified to be on stage in front of so many people, already embarrassed about whatever Eddie was about to pull. But then he dropped down to one knee, pulled a ring out, looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and asked you to marry him. You said yes, of course.

Your wedding was perfect. You wore a beautiful white gown, form fitting with lace sleeves. Eddie wore a black tux. Gareth was his best man, Robin your maid of honor. It was a pretty small wedding, just your closest family and friends, but it couldn’t have been better. It was everything you’d dreamed of since you met Eddie.

With rockstar-dom came certain expectations, certain…hobbies. You and Eddie had always loved to share a joint or a bowl together, sometimes even fooling around with psychedelics. It was always an amazing time. But with fame came access to anything your heart could ever desire. And Eddie loved the drugs.

It started out slowly. He’d drink himself stupid at the after parties, climb on the bar and throw chairs and get rowdy, get into fights sometimes. He only behaved if you tagged along. But the fans loved him, the guys thought he was a blast. That was just Eddie, wild, just how he was. The life of the party, until he wasn’t.

Coke was the first new thing you ever tried together. Eddie definitely didn’t need to be any more hyped up than he already was on his own, but he loved the stuff. He’d carry the little baggie in his pocket at all times, pouring a little on his hand for a bump when you or he needed a top up. He’d spread fat lines on a mirror in his hotel room, passing you a rolled up $100 dollar bill to let you go first, ever the gentleman. Then you’d fuck like rabbits the whole night, doing more lines whenever you started to come down. For the first time in your lives, you had all the money and all the drugs in the world. The party never had to stop.

Next was pills. Oxy, Xanax, Adderall. Eddie really liked the pills. He always kept some on him, would sneak off to crush one up and snort it if he needed the high extra fast. You didn’t know. You thought they were just for parties. You didn’t know it had become a daily thing, a crutch.

1993, you were 26 years old. Corroded Coffin had been successful for the past few years. Everyone loved them, especially Eddie as the frontman. He knew how to put on a show, knew how to have a good time. You couldn’t go anywhere without being followed by fans and photographers. It threw everything off balance when you found out you were pregnant.

It had been an accident. You were terrified to tell Eddie. You didn’t want to ruin his fun, or get in the way of his dream. But this baby was happening whether you were ready or not. And you knew it was time to get sober. After his show that night, you asked Eddie to come back to the hotel with you instead of going to the after party. He had been reluctant - he loved the after parties - but he agreed. Back in the hotel room, you sat him down, the look on his face completely terrified of whatever you were about to drop on him.

“Eddie…” you had started, holding his ringed hands in yours. “I’m…I’m pregnant.”

His eyes had gone wide. Maybe if you had known then what you knew now, you would have noticed how his pupils were blown. You didn’t even know he was on anything at the time.

“Baby, that’s…” he shook his head, and your heart sunk. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want the baby. “That’s fucking incredible!”

It was your turn to widen your eyes when Eddie stood, pulling you into a tight embrace and lifting you off the ground, spinning you around. “A baby! Wow.”

���You’re not upset?” You asked once he’d sat you back down, a huge grin on his face.

“Upset? Why would I be upset?”

“Because of the band,” you said. “Your freedom.”

“I don’t care about all of that,” he said, hands on either side of your face. “I care about you. I care about this baby.” He lowered a hand to gently caress your stomach. “You’re my whole world. And now my world is about to double,” he laughed. You couldn’t help but return his smile, tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re happy,” you said. “I‘ve always wanted a family with you.”

“Me too.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, then started covering your whole face in kisses, making you giggle. “I’m so fucking happy.”

A baby girl, Evelyn “Evie” Grace Munson was born August 1994. She was Eddie’s twin, born with big brown eyes and a head full of dark brown hair that got curlier the longer it grew. She was an angel of a baby, slept perfectly and hardly ever fussed. She was even a well behaved toddler, shy and reserved. She clung to you and Eddie and her Uncles Gareth, Jeff, and Grant.

Eddie’s drug problem ramped up after Evie’s birth. He was still able to hide it, to cover it up with his partying, but it was getting worse. He was starting to take oxy on a regular basis, snorting coke or taking adderall to counteract the downer’s effects. He was pretty much fucked up all the time, but he was functional enough that no one worried. And he did his best to keep it away from you.

After it all, you felt like an idiot for never noticing.

December 1998, you welcomed your second daughter, Rhiannon Raven Munson. She also looked just like Eddie, brown hair and big brown eyes. The Munson genes were strong, apparently. She was a fussier baby, suffering with colic. There were countless sleepless nights walking the halls with her, bouncing her and trying to get her to just sleep.

Evie adjusted to her big sister role perfectly. She loved her new baby sister, even if she wanted to treat her like a doll and push her around in her toy stroller.

After Rhiannon’s birth is when things really spiraled, although you were still oblivious. But the guys started to notice, because he was less careful around them. He started spending more time away from home.

This was when Eddie did heroin for the first time.

It was just snorting it, he didn’t think it was a big deal. But god, the way it made him feel. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced, like he had literally gone to heaven. It was the best thing he’d ever felt in his life.

He never wanted to stop.

Eddie was railing lines before shows, smoking heroin as soon as he got off stage before heading to the after party. You were home alone with the two girls.

He would come home late, long after you and the girls had gone to bed, climbing into bed with you and kissing all over your neck and shoulders until you turned around in his arms, kissing him deeply as he slid his hand beneath your panties.

“My pretty girl,” he’d mumble against your lips, pulling your body into his own. “Gonna make you feel so good tonight.”

Eddie was always incredible in bed, but being hopped up on coke always made him insatiable. He’d fuck your brains out, have his hand held tightly over your mouth to not wake the kids as your eyes rolled back and you came around his cock again and again.

July 2001, Ivy Maeve Munson was born. She was born prematurely and with a congenital heart condition, and spent months in the NICU. You left her side as little as possible, Wayne babysitting the girls while you spent every possible moment at the hospital. She had heart surgery at 3 weeks old, which thankfully went perfectly. Eddie had to leave for band commitments, but spent as much time as he could by your side. He didn’t mention the pills he was popping behind your back, or the heroin he was smoking in the bathroom of the studio.

Things really hit rock bottom after Ivy’s birth. You didn’t know if it was the stress of her health problems or what, but something had changed in Eddie. He wasn’t even trying to hide his drug abuse anymore.

She was only a few months old when he injected heroin for the first time.

The rush was nothing like snorting or smoking it. The first time he did it, with some of his rockstar friends, and the drug hit his veins for the first time, he had never felt happier. Not on his wedding day, not holding his daughters for the first time. It was like there wasn’t a single thing wrong in the world, everyone around him felt like his closest friend, he loved everyone and everything. He was wrapped in the warmest, most comforting hug, his stomach was filled with butterflies like the first time he’d kissed you. Only better.

He slumped over and let it take him.

His addiction became obvious to everyone around him after that. His bandmates first - they’d get into constant arguments over Eddie showing up late too high to play guitar, forgetting the lyrics and slacking off on songwriting and practices. It was getting embarrassing for the whole band when he’d act a fool in public now, usually getting into fights with someone every time before they’d have to drag his passed out form back home.

The first time you found his kit, you confronted him in the living room, throwing it down on the table. “What the fuck is this, Eddie?”

Fear struck into his very soul. “Baby, I-“

“No.” You shook your head. “What the fuck, Eddie?”

“I-I swear I can explain-“

“I don’t think you can.” You looked down at the drugs and paraphernalia, tears in your eyes. “What have you been doing to yourself?”

“It’s just some fun, okay?” He said, hands combing through his curls in his stress. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just some fun.”

“This is heroin, Eddie. There’s needles here.”

Eddie opened his mouth, his hand outstretched like he was going to come up with some excuse, but he really didn’t have one. He dropped his arms to his sides. “I’m sorry.”

You wiped your tears away, angry and scared for your husband. “What if the girls were to see you fucked up on this stuff?”

Emotions swam behind Eddie’s eyes. “That wouldn’t happen. I promise that won’t happen.”

“Because you’re gonna stop, right?”

Eddie didn’t say anything.

“You’re gonna stop, right?”

“I…” Eddie looked around. “Of course I’m gonna stop, baby. I can stop any time, it’s no big deal.”

It was a big deal, and he couldn’t stop. In fact, his addiction only got worse and worse. He started stumbling onto stage doped out of his mind, unable to perform and forcing shows to be cancelled and tickets to be refunded. His public breakdown took over the tabloids, which was humiliating for everyone involved. And despite his promise, he came home high every day. The girls were scared of him like that, they were withdrawing from their father day by day, but he didn’t even know what was going on.

You broke up with him countless times, saying you couldn’t handle it anymore. But he would always come back, banging on the door in the middle of the night, crying and withdrawing and swearing he was done and wouldn’t touch the stuff again. You’d take him back, help him through the sickness, and things would be okay for a week before he’d be right back to it.

The final straw was when you found him shooting up a speedball in the bathroom at the house. You had freaked out - “The girls could have walked in on you! What are you thinking?!” - and Eddie was too doped up to even have a conversation with you. You called Gareth, Jeff, and Grant to come get him, because you were officially done for good.

You found out you were pregnant again after that. It was a complete surprise - Eddie was 37 and you were 36. There had been no plans for more kids. Three kids was a handful, and Eddie was his own shitshow right now. You hadn’t even talked in a week, and last you’d heard he was still heavy on the dope.

The guys were getting sick of him. The band had gone on an indefinite hiatus because Eddie couldn’t get his shit together. Everything he’d dreamed of, everything he worked for was falling from his grasp faster than he knew what to do with. But he still couldn’t put the drugs down.

You showed up at Gareth’s house, walls up as you prepared for the conversation, prepared for the state Eddie would be in when you saw him. Gareth answered the door with a somber expression on his face, and you knew it wouldn’t be good.

“He’s on the couch in the den,” he said.

You were familiar with the house, so you walked down the hall and to the room yourself. Eddie was passed out on the couch, hair a mess, sweaty, dirty clothes he’d probably been in for days. Track marks visible on his strong arms you always loved having wrapped around you.

You nudged him, and he slowly woke up.

“Babe?” He said, voice hoarse. His pupils were constricted, eyes bloodshot. He’d clearly had something recently. His facial hair was scruffy, unkempt. He reached for you, but you pulled away.

“I need to talk to you.”

He sat up on the couch with a groan, rubbing his head. “What…what’s up?”

“I’m pregnant again, Eddie.”

He dropped his hands, looking up at you. “No.”

You pulled the tests out of your hoodie pocket, handing them over. He took them with shaking hands, examining them. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m 6 weeks. It’s still early.”

Eddie shook his head. “I can’t- we can’t-“

“I’m giving you an ultimatum.”

His eyes shot up to you. “What?”

“An ultimatum,” you said again. “Either you go to rehab and get clean, for good…or me and the kids are out of your life. For good.”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, looking for something to say. “You- you can’t do that.”

“I can,” you said. “And I am. Because this is out of hand, Eddie. You’re an addict. You’re going to kill yourself doing this shit. You’re not 22 anymore. This is sad. It’s sad watching you do this to yourself.” You wiped away a tear. “I love you more than anything, and I’m just watching you destroy yourself.”

Eddie looked up at you sadly. “Please. Please don’t take my kids from me. Please don’t leave me.”

“I have to do this,” you said. You took a deep breath. “If you want to get clean, you know where to find us.”

With that you turned and left the room, leaving Eddie alone with your words. He knew something had to change. He was killing himself with the drugs. But he also didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop. They felt too good, made him feel so alive in a way he never did in normal life.

As you drove home, you wondered if Eddie would take your words to heart. You’d broken up with him plenty of times over his drug use in the past three years, and it hadn’t changed anything. Not a damn thing.

If losing his family and his career wasn’t enough to scare him straight, you weren’t sure anything would.

tag list

@kellsck @birdysaturne @emxxblog @iheartgrayson

[kanmom51]

NOOOOOO.....

Well yesssss.

But NOOOOOO. Not again.

Are we back to me waking up to missing JK's lives?????

Oh my friggin god.

And what a live it seems to have been.

I'm off for a couple of weeks vacay for Christmas and New years, so I guess I won't be able to watch the translated live for a bit now, not to mention to write about it. Seriously JK, I need to have a word with you about your timetable... Well, with your superiors too, given they gave you the leave and permission to do this live...

I do want to remind you that neither Jin nor Hobi came live during their time off when in service. They posted on IG at times, but never came live. Just thought it needed to be mentioned. JK could have posted on Weverse. He actually did that too. He could have taken a photo and posted. He could have recorded a short message and posted. He didn't. He chose to come live because he had something to say. In that all so very special JK way. Matter of factly during his live.

Oh, and if we are on that one, do I mention karma is a bitch? Or more so, JK is one. Cause if anyone thinks for one second that the timing of this live was a coincidence, they have another thing coming. Just like every single live we had back in 2023 that followed up a shit show (Tae lives created or fan created - "I don't have a girlfriend").

This hate wave I mentioned in my post yesterday was beyond others I've seen. Disgusting hits made at JM's dad and family forcing him to shut down the comments on the IG account. Hits made at Bam. All beyond the vile hate towards JK and JM as well. And not only on X, but also on JM's dad's cafe IG account and Bam's IG account. So yeah, JK does things for a reason.

And just for the vile haters, JK made sure to mention JM multiple times.

INCLUDING MENTIONING THEIR SHOWERS TOGETHER.

And if anyone wants to go down the path of "they have communal showers" road, I say stop!! No!! They do not shower with other soldiers. Not with JM's body image issues. Not with previous idols being photographed in the shower. This is a HUGE issue that idols have had in the past and were granted private shower times due to. They just don't shower with others.

But they do shower together.

So I guess deal with that one haters!!!!

And OMG, he sang Die with a smile.

Man sang Die with a smile.

And people!!!

He knows the lyrics off by heart!!!!!!!

Now hold on for one second.

They sing in the shower together.

Just take that one in, and add Die with a smile...

And there we have our dream come true. Jikook singing this song together.

Meant to be!!!!

Oh, this too:

They go a little away from others and sing loudly....

Ok then.

We call it signing nowdays.

That's what they tell the others I guess.

Oh, there is so much I could add in this matter...

But I'm very demure, so I will refrain from going down that road.

All I'll say (and leave the singing to them) is....

I will emphasize this one last time before I say my goodbyes.

JK KNOWS WHAT HE IS DOING.

He knew what he was doing when he came live after Tae's lives and debunked stupid conclusions fans (the cult) made.

He knew what he was doing when he told us things he wanted us to know and understand about him in his 2023 lives.

He knew what he was doing when he did his "I go the other way" TikTok.

He knew what he was doing when he told us he doesn't have a girlfriend.

He knew what he was doing when he mentioned JM in this live.

And he very well knew what he was doing when he told us about their singing in the shower together.

He didn't have to mention the shower.

He really didn't.

He wanted to.

And you can see it written all over his face. You could hear it in his voice.

Eat on that cheeky grin haters!!!

Haters will hate and Jikook will keep having showers together.

T'is what t'is.

JK came home (literally) to give us his holidays gift.

Merry Christmas and Hanukah to y'all and Happy New Year!!!

From myself, Jikook and JM's chestie besties...

[probablyreadinsmut]

The Mrs Clause.

Jackson Joel Miller X Afab!Reader

Named after the 2002 Tim Allen Christmas movie - The Santa Clause 2.

Summary: You and Joel are Patrol partners who have been dancing around your feelings for each other for the longest time. Tommy has had enough of it and decides to intervene, setting Joel and you up as Santa and Mrs Claus.

Warnings/Tags: No smut in this part, but there will be in part two. One use of the word 'cock'. Just a lot of awkwardness from both parties (they're both dumb for each other okay?). Tooth rotting fluff in parts. Tommy being a meddling matchmaking menace, Maria enabling him like the good wife she is. Language (Swearing). Mention of pet loss. Nicknames. Tension. Implied legal age gap (nothing more 25-35 years ish, Joel would be about 57 in this). Reader has breasts and a vagina. Reader wears a skirt and heels but it's part of your costume. No mention of height, weight, skin colour or specific age. Images used in the banner above are just for aesthetic purposes, you are the main character in this fic. If I missed anything let me know!

Divider credit: @strangergraphics thank you for these adorable Christmas dividers! Merry Christmas to you! ❤️🎄

Banner made by me on canva which is why it's a little janky but we move (pls don't zoom in on it lmao)

Joel

It's Christmas time in Jackson! The town Square was beautifully decorated with twinkling fairy lights and leafy garlands with holly and pinecones weaved into them, wrapped around the street lamps. The freshly cut pine tree stood proudly in the centre of it all with more lights carefully spiralling around it and a bright star on top.

While Joel is making his way to his therapy appointment that day, he notices a crowd gathering around the town notice board, everyone is abuzz with excitement about something and his curiosity piques.

Making his way to the back of the small crowd that's formed in a horseshoe around it, he sees Tommy and Maria, with little TJ on her hip, pinning something to the board.

It's when Tommy finishes up and turns around that Joel locks eyes with him. The slow shit eating grin that spreads across his face sends alarm bells ringing in Joel's head.

As Tommy steps out the way for the residents at the front to take a look at the new announcements, the snickers and stares start. People turning and whispering, looking directly at him. Joel's cheeks heat up and his brow furrows into a deep scowl as he muscles his way through the crowd heading straight for his dumbass baby brother.

"What did you do?*The tone is accusatory right off the bat, Joel ain't messing around.

"Well take a look big brother, we're just tryin' to spread a lil holiday cheer around here and I was jus' thinkin', what grizzly old man could I get to be our Santa this year? And then it hit me"

"You didn't."

Joel could punch that grin right off his brother's face right now, as he steps aside and reveals the post pinned to the board. "Oh. I most certainly did."

There in a swirly red and green font, it reads:

🎄 Come and meet Santa Claus! Jacksons 3rd annual Christmas grotto: 12pm - 5pm December 21st. Fun for all ages! 🎄

And then there's a list underneath, containing the names of residents he and Maria have roped into helping.

Santa's Elves. Ellies name amongst them. Tommy must have a deathwish.

The names of the stabled horses next to 'Reindeer'

And then he sees it. His name.

Joel Miller as Santa Claus!

It had to be some kind of joke. Tommy's sick way of getting back at Joel for making him dress up as the easter bunny for Sarah all those years ago.

He rears back in horror, looking at Tommy like he'd just kicked a damn puppy in front of him. "Absolutely fucking not, Tommy! You must be insane to think I'm gonna do this!"

"Oh c'mon it'll be fun! TJ would love to see his Uncle Joel as Santa, wouldn't you, little guy?" Tommy smirks, keeping direct eye contact with Joel as he tickles the baby under his chin.

Maria then chimes in, shifting the giggling little boy in her arms. "Joel I know it's not your idea of fun-"

"Not my idea of fun!? That's a damn understatement if I've ever heard one!"

She holds her free hand up in a placating gesture. "Alright I hear you, perhaps Tommy should have asked first" She glances at Tommy, who's got a faux innocent 'who me?' look on his face now "But, the kids love it and usually we'd ask Richard to do it but he broke his leg a few weeks back out on patrol, so he can't do it this year. We'll make it worth your while, won't we Tommy?" She elbow nudges him in his ribs.

"Oh yeah! I've got a 40 year aged bottle of whiskey with your name on it, unopened. Sound interestin'?"

Tempting. Very tempting. But no, there was no chance he was gonna do all this just for a bottle of whiskey, no matter how good it sounded. "You're gonna have to do better than that, I'm talkin' new gun or knife kinda interestin"

"I knew you'd say that, big brother, which is why..."

Tommy jabs his pointer finger further down the announcement board, showing Joel exactly what else he has to offer to sweeten the deal further.

And there in the same green and red swirly writing. Mrs Claus with your name beside it.

A beat passes and Joel's permanent frown slowly forms into something of a half grin.

The two of you had been patrol partners for months and anyone with eyes could see how hard you were crushing on each other, both of you too chickenshit to make the first move, so here's Tommy and Maria, giving Joel the best early Christmas present he could ask for.

"I'm in."

You

Two days. You had been working tirelessly for two days on your Mrs.Claus costume, trading with the towns sewing circle for any scraps of red velvet you could get your hands on, fashioning the white fluffy edging out of an old blanket. It was far from perfect, it was rushed but there was no way you were going to pass up on this opportunity.

"Alright I'm coming out, no peeking, promise you won't look until I say so?" You call out to Maria, just finishing getting your outfit on in their living room as she waits for you in the kitchen, feeding TJ his lunch at the dining table.

"Cross my heart! Now c'mon show me what you've got, Mrs.Claus!" Maria chuckles and covers her eyes with her hand, giving you the all clear before you step into the kitchen.

It's a two piece outfit, the long sleeve top flaring out at your waist with a slight v-nexk, nothing too risque, the grotto is considered a family event after all. Then there's the skirt, just above knee length, hugging your hips and thighs in all the right places. Paired with a pair of red short strappy heels that you'd managed to borrow from one of the more fashionable Jackson residents, in exchange for some personal supplies for her. For a rush job, you were damn proud of yourself.

"Okay... You can look now!" You exclaim, straightening out an invisible crease on your top.

Maria drops her hand to look, her jaw follows quickly after. "Oh my god! Well hellooo Mrs. Claus!" She wolf whistles playfully. "Santa isn't gonna know what's hit him."

You feel heat creeping up the back of your neck at that particular thought. How Joel would react when he sees you. "Y-yeah? It's not too much is it? I mean I'm not trying to go for sexy, but I'm not not trying if you know what I mean?"

"No it's perfect! Look at Mrs. Claus, TJ doesn't she look beautiful?" Maria attempts to guide the youngest Millers gaze to you but he's too busy chomping down the banana pancakes she'd whipped up for him.

"Ah well... Speaking from experience, the older Miller men are much more attentive. And appreciative." Maria remarks coyly, lips curving into a sly smirk.

The two of you devolve into fits of giggles, not even hearing Tommy arriving home until he enters the kitchen "Ho-ho-holy shit!" Maria says his name in a scolding tone for cursing in front of the baby, he flashes her a guilty grin before continuing "Look at you darlin'! Joel, come take a look at Mrs. Claus!"

Joel. Joel's here with him.

Before you even have a chance to protest, Joel's stepping into the kitchen behind Tommy and right there and then is when you're pretty sure your heart stops.

Jaw slightly slack, brown eyes now near-black as his eyes drag up your body, lingering for a moment too long on your hips and breasts before landing in your face, noting the nervous gnaw of your lip. He clears his throat, forcing himself to act casual, ignoring the twitch of his cock in his jeans. "Y-yeah you... Wow. I mean... Wow.."

Flustered. Joel Miller is flustered. The usually stoic and self controlled aging scavenger is now a bumbling mess, even if he's trying his hardest not to show it.

A knowing look passes between Tommy and Maria, like the irritating old married couple they are, sharing small grins that mirror one another.

"Thanks... I um.. Can't wait to see your costume too!"

Tommy claps Joel on the shoulder with a loud bark of laughter. "Oh I sure am lookin' forward to that too! I think we all are, managed to find a mall Santa outfit a few years back, got the beard and everythin'. Usually it's a little big on Richard but I think Joel here won't have any trouble fillin' it out" He teases, prodding at Joel's soft tummy, earning him a brotherly punch to the arm.

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" Now it's Joel's turn to be scolded by Maria, giving her the very same guilty smile as Tommy had done previously. The Miller genetics are truly a marvel.

It's the morning of the Christmas Grotto and your nerves are running at an all time high. Putting together the last of your costume, opting for a pair of black tights under your skirt instead of going bare legged what with the fresh snow that had settled in recent days.

Staring at yourself in the bedroom mirror, you had to admit to yourself that you looked hot and with the appraising look you'd received from Joel yesterday fresh in your mind, a big part of you was actually looking forward to today, even if you'd originally been less than thrilled at being put down for the role without being asked. The moment Maria had told you Joel was going to be santa, it had sealed the deal for you. You'd be the best damn Mrs. Claus this town has ever seen.

A little while later, it's go time. You're walking into the mess hall, the tables have been pushed aside to make room for the crowd that will be shuffling in and out. There are townsfolk dotted around dressed as elves and the horses are hitched just outside in a make shift petting zoo with makeshift Reindeer antlers on their heads. That was a cute touch. You're sure they're going to love being fussed over and fed carrots all day long.

At the far end, is the 'Grotto' which is actually just a red back drop hung up on the wall, a chair that's been decorated to look like Santa's throne, a bowl full of homemade candy canes beside it and a Christmas tree with gifts surrounding it. It's nothing special, but at the same time it's perfect No sign of Joel though, yet.

"Well don't you look pretty!" A semi sarcastic voice sounds from your left, Ellie, dressed as an elf, chewing on a candy cane.

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle the laugh. She looks ridiculous and you can tell she's not happy about being asked to do this.

"Oh my god. Don't tell me Tommy roped you into this too?!"

"Sure did." She grumbles. "But he said Dina would be doing it to so..."

Looks like you're not the only one going along with it because your crush is involved. You give her a knowing smile, glancing around the mess hall. "Is um... Is Joel coming any time soon? People will be lining up in the next twenty minutes or so."

She grins as she takes another bite of candy cane "Oh yeah he's coming alright. Why Tommy thought he was a good fit for jolly old St. Nick, I'll never know! Least he's got the old part down." She trails off as she gets distracted by something over your shoulder, you turn to see Dina walking in, wearing an equally ridiculous elf costume. "Uhhhh gotta run! Good luck today!" Ellie smirks as she darts by you heading straight for her. Subtle.

Soon enough, the line starts to form and Joel is still nowhere to be seen, you're standing beside the throne, shifting from foot to foot, feeling a little anxious that he might not show up now.

And then you hear it.

"Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas!" it's not exactly enthusiastic and Santa has a texan twang but there he is walking in, greeting the townsfolk and children. With the classic costume on, a fake white curly beard with his pink plush lips poking out, the hat tilted jauntily atop his head and a sack over his shoulder.

Why the hell are you attracted to this?

Do you have to add 'Santa kink' to the ever extensive list of kinks you have? Oh god, let's not go there right now.

The faces of the kids in line light up though and seeing the way Joel smiles back under the beard, warms your heart. He's a softie deep down.

"There you are, cutting it fine aren't you Santa?" you murmur to him when he sits down, setting the sack next to him. The way he immediately manspreads and looks good doing it even dressed like this, should be criminal.

Then he gives you an assessing stare, just like yesterday, unable to help himself from subtly checking you out. Subtle to anyone else who might be looking, but to you? You felt like time slowed down right then and there, noting the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. The next five hours were either going to be pure torture or sheer agony. You truly couldn't decide which one.

"Sorry Mrs. Clause. Was doin'a little last minute gift wrappin'" You're about to open your mouth to tell him that maybe he should have a better sense of timekeeping but it's then that Ellie pipes up, cupping her hands either side of her mouth to make her voice louder. "Alright folks, who's ready to meet Santa?"

The next 5 hours were a blur, it was a constant stream of people coming to meet Santa but it was probably the most fun you've had in a long time. Tommy and Maria had set up a few games in the mess hall to make it a real event for the kids of Jackson and he'd procured some disposable cameras to take mementos of the day.

You could have killed that man when he did this though:

"Hey Mr & Mrs Claus! Lemme get a picture of the two of you!"

You'd sighed but you'd take any opportunity to be closer to Joel honestly. You moved closer to the throne, posing beside it with a beaming smile. Apparently that wasn't good enough for Tommy.

"Nooooo get closer c'mon, you're supposed to be a married couple"

"Yeah and also non existent" Joel mutters under his breath so none of the kids hear him, elliciting a giggle from you.

"Hm, what was that Santa?"

"Nothin'!"

You perch on the arm of the throne instead to appease him. "This any better?"

"Nooooo no no! Get closer!"

"How am I s'posed to get any-- oh!"

You squeek as Joel pulls you into his lap, sitting you side ways on one of his thighs.

"This okay Darlin'?" He whispers in a drawl. It's both sweet that he's checking that it's not pushing your boundaries too far but also sexy as hell. You reply with a slow nod

It's your turn to be flustered now, feeling your body temperature rising a little, along with your racing heart. You're having an internal meltdown about being in his lap.

"Earth to Mrs. Claus! Hellooooo!" It's Tommy's voice that snaps you out of it, blinking rapidly as you look up at the camera.

"S-sorry! Yes okay, I'm ready." You cross your legs and lean back into Joel just a tad, feeling his hand slipping around your waist to hold you steady, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth over the velvet there. You wonder if he even knows he's doing it."Take the damn picture Tommy!"

"Alright hold your horses!" Every second in Joel's lap feels like a year. So close, close enough that his intoxicating scent floods your senses, peppermint from the candy canes, coffee and... Sawdust? You think? Would make sense considering his woodworking, you suppose. It's too much, but at the same time it's not enough.

"Alright Mr & Mrs. 3.. 2.. 1.. Say jingle bells!"

You both repeat it, smiling ear to ear as the flash momentarily blinds you.

Before you know it, it's nearly time to call it a day. You were thankful for the small heaters that had been placed nearby, it had started snowing heavily outside now and with the way the mess hall was pretty open, made it chilly. It was bearable though.

Joel had been so sweet with the kids today, it was a side of him you hadn't seen before. A stark contrast to the man you went on patrols with. You knew he was good with kids. Older kids though, like Ellie, but seeing him with the younger kids? Christ. Your ovaries damn near exploded.

Right now he has the last kid on his lap, a little girl with big brown eyes and tight curls. She's possibly the sweetest little thing you've ever seen.

"Alright sweetpea what's your name?"

"Sarah." She answers shyly.

It's then that you notice the way his shoulders tense slightly and the way his eyes get a little glossy. What's that about?

"S-Sarah? Well... Ain't that a pretty name for an equally pretty girl." The momentary hiccup seems to have passed and he's back to being sweet again. "How old are you darlin'?" She screws up her little face as she looks at her fingers trying to figure out how many to hold up before she holds up four of them, looking at who you assume is her mother for confirmation, she just chuckles and nods.

"Four? Well ain't that nice. Now tell me sweetpea, what do you want for Christmas?" So gentle, he's so gentle with the little kids, you really didn't know that there was this side of him hiding in there.

"A dinosaur!" She's come out of her shell a little now, excitedly mimicking a dinosaurs roar, to which Joel roars back and chuckles, this rich deep sound. So fucking cute.

"A dinosaur? Well little missy I'm not sure 'bout gettin' you a real one, I'm sure your momma wouldn't wanna clean up after one buuuuuut--" he reaches down into the nearly empty sack of presents and pulls out a small plushie T-Rex. "Here. Darlin' Merry Christmas."

She squeels with happiness and throws her little arms around his neck, catching him off guard for a moment. You can see the surprise in his wide eyes, but a genuine warm smile graces his lips. "Thank you Santa!" She pulls back, gently taking the plushie from him, holding it up proudly for her mom to see.

"Well you're welcome, sweetpea. G'on now, go show your momma and have a Merry Christmas... Sarah." The way he says her name, almost wistful, he watches her clamber off his lap, running to her mom to show her the gift she got, there's this longing look that you don't recognise in him.

"Joel?" You ask, gently placing your hand on his shoulder.

His head snaps in your direction, immediately changing his demeanor to a happier one, whether it's forced or not, you don't know. "God, sorry Darlin'! I was miles away."

"You okay?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, course I am! Just... Been a long day is all. You okay? It's getting cold in here."

You smile at the way he's concerned about you, shaking your head softly. "I'm fine, not really feeling it"

"Now why don't I believe that?" He does a little smirk under the beard as his eyes rake over you quickly, it making your heart do a little flip. "Here." Before you can protest, he's taking off his red jacket, handing it to you as he's left in a fitting white tshirt underneath, suspenders holding up the pants. The little roundness of his tummy is something else. You were never a fan of overly muscular guys, you'd seen the magazines from before. Jacked up men with washboard abs just wasn't your thing. This though? The dad bod he was rocking was absolutely your thing.

"T-thank you." the waiver in your voice does nothing to hide how much he's effected you. It's not fair. You put the jacket on around your shoulders and it feels as though you've been enveloped by his scent. It's dizzying and addictive.

By 6pm, all the helpers had the mess hall cleared and back to how it was before, the tables back in place and the shutters down to stave off the snow storm that was picking up outside.

You'd stayed behind to help Maria dismantle the 'Grotto' while TJ slept in his stroller, Joel was still here, Santa hat and beard now gone, much to your slight disappointment. He was busy talking to Tommy, they seemed to be sharing a moment. Tommy's hand is on his shoulder, gently squeezing it with a sympathetic look on his face, you can't make out what they're saying but whatever it is seems deep.

Maria notices you looking, smiling to herself before she speaks. "So... You gonna finally make a move or what?"

With wide eyes you turn your attention to her. "Maybe keep your voice down?"

She chuckles lightly "Oh honey they can't hear us from all the way over there. C'mon... What's stopping you? He likes you. You like him. Just go for it."

"Okay but what if things don't work out? Jackson isn't that big y'know? Imagine bumping into your ex every day. Awkward."

"Don't have to imagine. Before Tommy got here I dated one of the guys on patrol and sure it was awkward at first but we're all adults, I moved on and married Tommy and he's moved on too. It's not a big deal. You know what I think though?"

"No but I'm sure you're about to tell me" You huff in amusement through your nose, putting away the last of the props into a box.

"Damn right I am. I think you're afraid and making excuses. Just like he is. You're focusing on the negatives like 'what if it ends badly' instead of 'what if it never ends?' and that is what you should be thinking about. Seriously. You'll regret it if you don't at least try."

"See you back at the house Joel!" Ellie calls out to him as she leaves with Dina. Tommy and Maria had left a short while ago when TJ started getting fussy. So now, under the twinkling lights above you, you're left alone together with Maria's words swimming around in your head.

'What if it never ends?' she'd said it so simply, like you'd get your fairytale ending. Of course she hadn't meant it like that. Not in this world, not in this life. But, if it meant you could have just a fraction of a fairytale ending? Maybe she was right about making the leap.

So as you wring your hands nervously, your feet are moving you towards him of their own accord. He's crouched down rifling through the present sack, just in the exit doorway. You stop just behind him.

"Joel? You got a minute before you leave?"

"Oh! Yeah actually, I um..." He pulls something out of the sack, putting it behind his back as he rises to his feet, knees creaking as he does so. "I wanted to talk to you to... I uh..." His brow is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He's nervous too. "I... Got you somethin... It's not much but..."

And then he pulls out a small gift wrapped box from behind his back, tied up with a red bow and everything. Your eyes soften when you take it from him, fingertips brushing against his accidentally.

"Joel... You didn't have to get me anything... I... I didn't get you anything. I feel bad now!"

"Pfft. Don't be silly darlin'. I did this cause I wanted to, not because I felt like I had to. C'mon open it." He gives you that lopsided grin that makes him even more handsome somehow, rocking back on his heels absentmindedly.

You oblige, carefully unwrapping the bow, tearing away the paper, all the while you feel his eyes on you watching and waiting. When you lift the lid off the box, you let out a small surprised chuckle. Gently lifting the gift out to admire it.

A small carved and painted chocolate labrador dog. Just like your childhood pet. You remembered telling him about her on one of your patrols, Lana was her name. You'd lost her in the initial days of the outbreak and thought about her often. It had been months since you'd told him about her and he'd remembered. Even going as far as carving her name onto the base. You feel your eyes misting over as you take it in, it's possibly the best gift you've ever received.

"Joel I-- it's... It's beautiful. You... You made this for me?"

His shoulders relax a little as he sees the way your expression shifts, he was worried he'd upset you. It was a risk because all he wanted was to make you happy.

"Yeah I did... That's um... That's actually why I was almost late today. Was putting the finishing touches to it, wanted it to be perfect. Y'know... Like you are."

"L-like I am?" You gaze lifts from the carving in your hand to meet his own. Staring back at you with those soft brown eyes that you just want to get lost in.

As he takes a small step forward, encroaching into your personal space, it feels like the room just became too small. More intimate than it was before. Nothing has changed and everything has changed. "Yes. Like you darlin'. You... You're..." He reaches up, softly brushing his thumb over your cheekbone, making your breath catch in your throat. "You're perfection"

That's when you see it, above the two of you in the doorway. Mistletoe. You'd wondered how you'd missed that. It was like it had just appeared out of thin air, but more than likely it was a part of Tommy's meddling because it definitely wasn't there before.

He follows your gaze upwards, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Well would ya look at that."

You can't help the small chuckle of disbelief that leaves you. "Yeah would you look at that. You planning on doing anything about it, Miller?"

Now his gaze his dropped back to you, drawing your face in closer to his. His voice dropping to a low whisper. "Don't have to tell me twice, darlin'"

The moment your lips touch his, you feel like you're floating on air. It's reverent and slow, tilting his head with yours as he savours the taste of your lips. His big hand engulfing your cheek, thumb stroking over it with a tenderness that you hadn't initially expected from him.

You blindly set the carving down on the ledge beside you so you can wrap your arms around his neck as his free hand slides downwards to your lower back, holding you against him as the kiss deepens and evolves into something more desperate.

It's all consuming. Everything you could have hoped for. He's everything you hoped for.

There under the mistletoe and twinkling lights. Santa and Mrs Claus. Sharing their first kiss.

Part two coming soon!

Tagging my moots, happy holidays my lovelies:

@drewharrisonwriter @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @bitchwitch1981 @kirsteng42 @morallyinept @cheekychaos28 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @almostempty

Special mention to @lovely-vamp-princess added a part about Joel's tummy in there just for you ;D

If you'd rather not be tagged lmk and a big thank you if you do read 💜

[georgescitadel]

George R.R. Martin on the process of creating A Game Of Thrones

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

"This tale grew in the telling," Professor Tolkien wrote of The Lord of the Rings. His publishers had asked for “another Hobbit,” a sequel to his popular 1937 children’s book The Hobbit, of roughly the same length and tone. What he finally delivered to them, some dozen years later, was something else entirely: a massive masterpiece that was to remake all of fantasy in its own image, one of the great novels of our times.

How much easier it would have been for Tolkien to give his publishers what they wanted: another Hobbit, another adventure of Bilbo the Burglar and his friends the dwarves. His editors would have been thrilled, and his readers as well. The Hobbit had been a strong seller, back in 1937, and no doubt the new book would have done as well or better. After that, Tolkien could have written a third Hobbit, and a fourth, and a fifth. He could have had a steady stream of royalties to supplement his Oxford salary through the lean wartime years, producing a series of children’s books comparable to the Narnia series of his friend C.S. Lewis, or the Oz books of L. Frank Baum.

That would have been the safe, sensible thing to do. Instead, Tolkien took the road less traveled by—a road no one had traveled by, till him—and gave the world something immeasurably richer. His tale grew vaster than empires (if more slow), and he had the sense to follow where it led him.

In the end, I made a similar decision. The choice I faced was between my story and my outline, and I chose the story. Out went the elegantly structured trilogy, with each volume built around a single season, I would tell the tale that I’d set out to tell, from beginning to middle to end, and never mind how many books or years it might require. By rearranging a bit, moving some chapters up and some others out, I found a very satisfactory resolution for the first volume, and delivered a massive manuscript of 1188 pages [Ed Note: should be 1088 pages] to my publishers in October, 1995.

The rest of what I’d written became the opening chapters of book two, and I went on from there. Since The Rest of A Game of Thrones did not strike me as a terribly evocative title, I called this new second volume A Clash of Kings.

Was my choice the right one? That’s not for me to say. It feels right, from where I sit, still living half my life in Westeros, but of course the tale remains unfinished. In the end, the readers will judge. They always do.

- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings Limited Edition Introduction (2002)

[peppermintmagicianlynn]

TimBer Week 2024: Most Eligible Bachelor

TimBer Week 2024 Day #3: Most Eligible Bachelor/Man of the Year

Quick Confession: I added this prompt to the wheel because it sounded funny, but I didn't do that much research before It ended up chosen. So...there's a high chance I don't understand the MEB process that well. Please forgive me.

---

Within the United States, there was an extraordinary amount of magazines targeting citizens between Late-Teens and Old Fogies. Of those, more than half ran various popularity contests about their readerships. Simple deductions said that if there was overlap in their audience, then the lists of candidates would have a lot of similar names for certain categories.

Yet Tim was left fully stunned at the data table put before, proclaiming that Timothy Drake-Wayne was on a list for this year’s Most Eligible Bachelor across fifteen magazines! Even Bruce only appeared on six lists at once when he was Tim’s age…and Tim was not going to think of why that number had increased so much following the adoption of Dick Grayson. This was just insane!

“It’s perfectly logical,” Lucius Fox declared, scrolling the tablet screen to show Tim the next graph. “Your public presence has been on the rise since you became a legal adult. Your work for company advancement and creation of new public programs has increased our stock tremendously over the years, which also reflects well on you. Altogether, you have created a positive image of a hardworking, successful young man. The usual candidates for this award.”

“And because you’ll never admit it to yourself, I’ll point out that you’re also a very handsome young man.” Tiffany flipped through the sample magazines she’d brought to the meeting and laid it open on the desk to show the article that announced his candidacy. By her actions, the photos of him at the ribbon-cutting event last month were supposed to support her theory. He only saw how Bernard’s haircut for the event really flattered him. “Admittedly, your numbers did take a slight dip a few years ago when you brought Bernard as your date for the first time, but they’ve made a steep climb since then. It’s actually remarkable.”

“You should be proud,” Tam said, smiling at Tim despite the dry look he gave. In fact, that just made her smile grow.

“In any case, the outcome of this might be good for us, so I’d call this a positive development.” Tim had already known Lucius Fox had a surprising sense of humor - the framed article about the Wayne-Fox engagement was still hanging on the office wall - but it was still amazing that he could say those words with a straight face. Tim should have taken public speaking lessons from him instead of his childhood tutors.

Neither Tam nor Tiffany were as contained as their father. They only lasted until the meeting was declared over and the eldest Fox left, mentioning they could all take lunch now. The minute the door closed behind him, the sisters burst into laughter. Tim missed when Tam would be as awkward about situations like this as he would.

The reopening of the door cut their laughter short, all three of them straightening into professional stances in case it was someone important.

And it was, just not in a corporate sense.

“Um, did I come in at a bad time?” Bernard asked, shutting the door behind him and hefting the thermal bag in his hand that contained food for their lunch date. “Lucius said I could come right in, but if you’re busy…”

“No way,” Tim said, jumping over his desk to meet his boyfriend in the middle of the room. They shared a brief kiss before Tim took the lunch bag and sat it beside of his desk, barely containing his excitement over what Bernard might have brought. The blond took the chair Lucius had vacated and greeted the Fox sisters who were sharing the couch. They should have already been heading out to their own lunch hour and Tim almost asked if they’d rather hide out and eat in the office together. He could order more food…

“Whoa, what is this?”

Crap, he forgot about the magazine!

“Oh my god, Tim!” Bernard exclaimed, picking up the gossip rag that was still on the incriminating page. “You’re going to be Bachelor of the Year?!”

Tim sighed. “Most Eligible Bachelor and no, that’s not guaranteed. I’m up against a lot of people. Including Bruce, for fuck’s sake.”

“Hasn’t he won this thing since, like, the eighties?” Bernard flipped through the other candidate articles. “I love how all these guys have on suits and sailing outfits, but they have a picture of you with your skateboard and Java-Kart cup. Really sells you as the Modern-Success guy.”

That prompted more giggles from the Fox ladies and Tim flicked his boyfriend on the forehead, stealing the magazine so he could throw it right into the trash can. “This is all bullshit. Why would I be the Most Eligible Bachelor? How was I even nominated?”

Bernard shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you were the youngest CEO in Gotham history, connected to two of its oldest families, son of the current richest man in the city, and are a youth culture bicon.” He smirked at how red Tim’s face turned after that last part. “Just a guess.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Tim said again, sitting on the edge of his desk right in front of Bernard. He propped his feet up on the seat edge between Bernard’s knees and fought back a smile when his boyfriend squeezed his ankles. “My name is on a magazine popularity contest against Bruce. It’s like a bad sitcom waiting to happen.”

“Oliver Queen was also in there,” Tam pipped in, pretending she wanted to be helpful instead of just wanting to see the vein in his forehead popping out. She could get away with a lot given she had access to 70% of his Red Robin resources and controlled his workplace coffee limits.

“I don’t even want to think of what my siblings are going to say about this,” Tim gestured to the trashcan, wishing he had a match to throw in. “I can mute the BatFam and Young Justice group chats, but Barbara can remotely turn them back on if she wants to make me suffer.”

“I thought you made a firewall to keep her out?”

“That’s for emergencies and I don’t want her to know that.”

Tam snorted. “This is why siblings are the worst.” She said this while leaning all of her weight against her own sister’s shoulder. Tiffany pushed back into the couch to let the younger woman flop across her lap.

“It’s only worthwhile to tease you because of your reactions,” Tiffany pointed out, patting Tam on the forehead before turning her eyes to Tim. “You act so embarrassed about things like this that it’s too funny not to poke the bear.”

Tim opened his mouth to protest, but Bernard tugging at his pants leg brought his attention to the other boy. Tim looked down at his boyfriend who was now wearing a giddy smile, eyes dancing with sudden excitement that screamed ‘incoming bad idea’. “What?”

“You could lean into it.”

Tim tucked a loose strand of hair out of Bernard’s face while giving him confused eyes.

“Well, you can’t change that you were nominated, and you definitely can’t stop your siblings from finding out. But you could change the way you outwardly react to it.”

“And what do you suggest, exactly?”

“You act like a man who was nominated for the most famous sex-icon award of the year!” Bernard threw out his arms as if to signify all that that implied. “Just getting on that list is a sign of your amazing qualities and overall hotness.”

Tim’s face flashed red-hot while Tam clarified, “He’s on fifteen of them!”

“Damn,” Bernard’s eyes widened before he narrowed them in playfully seduction. “I guess I’d better step up my game, then. Gotta make sure I don’t look like a slob against the hottest man in Gotham City.” He made a move to slide his chair back. Tim hooked his feet under the seat to pull him closer.

“You know, he does make a valid point,” Tiffany declared, pushing Tam up from her lap. “If you acted as if you enjoyed this nomination, you wouldn’t be mocked so hard by your friends and family.”

“Plus it would be funny,” Tam pointed out. “Very very funny.”

Tim was skeptical of that idea. He was not a person who liked a lot of attention, especially from strangers or in the way this particular award would suggest. Yes, he had done a few interviews with a lot of youth and LGBTQIA+, but he still didn’t see what it was about him that read “sex icon”. Only one person was allowed to think of him that way and make it feel flattering.

“And think of this,” Bernard continued when he saw Tim’s hesitation “if you act like an egotistical rich boy, you not only ruin their fun to tease you but you also get to drive them up the wall instead.”

Now that made him reconsider. Tim pictured himself stepping into Wayne Manor wearing a full tuxedo in broad daylight, dripping with gaudy jewels and swagger, putting on his socialite persona that he only used for parties.

If he unleashed all of that on his siblings, they would hate him.

Deeply-engraved gremlin energy rush through his veins like the greatest endorphins when he thought of the disgusted looks Jason and Stephanie would wear. He could just hear Dick’s exasperated sighs or Damian’s aggravated tongue-clicks. Bernard laughed at the glee in his expression and offered to create a storm of memes he could spread through social media where the Waynes would see them. Tam joined in, willing to order a stupidly ostentation rental car that he could drive to the manor after work. They were both enablers and fantastic partners in crime.

Tiffany rose from the couch, deciding this was her cue to run. “I’ll leave you kids to your plotting,” she said, straightening out the wrinkles in her suit pants as she headed for the door. “Just be sure to run anything you’re planning through the PR department so you don’t accidentally tank the company stocks.”

She said that like the company hadn’t survived all of Brucie Wayne’s antics or the various social events his children had upended.

“And personally, Tim, I think you should feel a least a little glad that you were nominated this year. Everyone in Gotham knows you won’t be eligible for this award for that much longer.”

The raven-haired boy looked over Bernard’s head to send her confused eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”

She gestured to the desk behind him. He peeked over and was immediately greeted with the three different framed photos he had of Bernard. Ah.

Siblings really were the worst, even if they weren’t your siblings.

-

Tiffany closed the door behind her, the soundproof wood cutting off Bernard’s giggling and Tam’s voice telling their CEO that he should work on his poker face before their operation began. In the silence of the hall, Tiffany considered Tim’s reaction for a moment, then sent a text to the accountant in charge of the officewide betting pools. She’d change her bet and put it on the proposal happening before Bernard graduates.

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

You can decide for yourself if Tim actually won that award or not. Or the shock poor Bruce made when he saw his forever-17 son in the running with him.

[callalillywrites]

Tis the Season for Some Comfort

My first official Christmas story for the year. Yay!

This story is part of a yet unnamed AU featuring Steve Rogers and Wife!Reader. You can read the first story here, but this story can be read as a standalone, too.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 2970

Summary: Steve comes home on Christmas Eve after a less-than-satisfactory mission. You do all you can to offer him some comfort and remind him how loved he really is.

Warnings: Mostly fluff; smallest smidgen of angst

A/N: This story took on a life of its own, especially with it being mostly in Steve's POV. I do hope you enjoy this piece as much as I did in writing it.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

The mission hadn’t been a success, but it hadn’t gone as sideways as they’d all feared it could’ve gone.

That didn’t stop the negative thoughts and heavy responsibility that fell on his shoulders.

Steve kept going over everything in his mind. He sought out every contingency, searching for some way that he could’ve acted differently. Nothing came directly to mind, but that didn’t stop him from berating himself for a less-than-satisfactory job.

His text to you had been simple and succinct with few details: Mission complete. ETA home, late. Please don’t wait up. No major injuries. Love you.

The last thing he wanted was to have you worrying about him.

After all, he was Captain America. One of the main leaders of the Avengers. He’s handled worse and lived to tell about it.

Your text came back moments later, tugging a small, unwitting smile across his lips.

While you celebrated his return, you also mentioned getting the new book you’d been looking forward to reading. He knew what that meant. A late night read, which meant you’d be up waiting for him even if he wished you’d get your sleep. Nothing kept you from reading when the urge struck you, especially when said book came from one of your favorite authors.

Throughout your message, he spotted several emojis to emphasize your words, further widening the grin on his face.

If anyone could help lighten his mood, it was you.

Your message proved just the distraction his mind needed. He’d long since acknowledged how well you’ve learned to read between the lines of his texts. Your new read was a pretext for staying up to wait for him, to ensure he was indeed as okay as he previously stated.

While anyone else reading might not see the care you had for him in your rambling text, he could. You offered him an olive branch of sorts without making it obvious to others who might snoop. You helped ensure his public image remained separate from his private life, giving him the chance to just be Steve Rogers without the weight of Cap following him home.

One of the best decisions he ever made was to fall in love with you. His greatest honor had been the day you accepted his proposal almost a year later. The happiest came when you said ‘I do’ in front of all your friends and family with the Avengers cheering and whooping the loudest.

He really had no idea what he’d do without you, and he never wanted to.

Especially when he walked through the door of your home later that night.

*****

You’d just finished setting up the snacks you knew Steve liked on the small end table closest to the Christmas tree with a small grin. The selection included one of his rarer indulgences from a bakery you’d discovered with your best friends on your last big ladies’ night out.

The break had been needed after finishing up the last chapter of your new book. As much as you loved a cliffhanger, this one had been a real doozy. You needed a moment to collect yourself. What better way to do that than to finish the last part of your surprise for your loving husband, who would be home any moment.

His text had been succinct and to the point. A sure sign that things hadn’t gone the way they should’ve on this latest mission.

As if you needed further proof, you’d also gotten texts from Nat and Bucky.

Both had been worried about Steve’s mental state, having gone on the mission with him. Knowing him as you all did, he’d gone into full Captain America mode and refused to break in front of anyone. Steve Rogers could be hard to crack in the best of circumstances, and a failed or poor mission result made that outer shell that much tougher.

It’s why you’d learned early on how best you could help him.

After all, he’d done the same for you.

*****

Steve’s shoulders lost some of their tension when your shared home’s front came into view. The festive wreath hanging did more than several hours in the gym with a punching bag ever could. A soft smile even spilled across his lips as he saw the extra addition you’d made to the porch in his absence.

He’d known you might when the two of you came across it, but he did wonder how you managed to wrangle the giant nutcracker into its current position. Standing two short inches below Steve, the nutcracker had at least several more on you and some considerable weight to keep it upright. Maybe you had help, but then again, Steve knew how stubborn you could get when you set your mind on something.

The globe in the nutcracker’s hand twirled and glowed as he stepped closer. Soft Christmas music poured from the hidden speakers, low enough to not disturb your neighbors but loud enough that those visiting wouldn’t miss it.

His smile widened.

You’d been right about the nutcracker being the perfect addition to the decorations you both had put up around the house to celebrate the season.

Steps lighter than before, he leaned down to turn off the nutcracker before unlocking the front door and stepping inside.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for the scene waiting within.

The main lights had long been turned off in favor of the lights gleaming on the Christmas tree. It stood proudly in one corner of the living room with all the ornaments you and him have collected over the past couple of years. Light reflected from the shiny tinsel you’d been adamant about placing strategically around the tree to great effect. Garlands draped or wrapped around various fixtures around the room and throughout the house. They, too, gleamed softly, giving the place an almost magical feeling.

As he stepped further into the room, he dropped his gear near the sofa while he took in even more details awaiting him.

He noted the end table filled with his favorite snacks, but that wasn’t what caught his eye so much as the makeshift bed. Made up of your extensive collection of blankets and pillows, it took up most of the floor between the Christmas tree and the fireplace, which also had a small fire going behind the glass doors.

Inspecting the bed, he noted the pillow he always managed to sneak from you whenever he had a bad night and the bed felt too soft to sleep comfortably. Those were the nights he usually sought solace on the harder surface of the living room floor. Your pillow tucked close to his chest so he could still smell you without you giving up your own sleep for him.

It hadn’t really taken you long to figure this out, either. Rather than being upset with him when you’d found him one morning after a particularly rough night, you’d made it your mission to ensure that pillow was always ready and available to him. You never questioned or made him feel weird about it, either, which he’d greatly appreciated then and still.

“Welcome home, Mr. Rogers,” you said softly from the open bedroom doorway.

Steve met your adoring smile with one of his own. “It’s good to be home, Mrs. Rogers.”

Turning on his heel, he quickly erased the distance between you two, scooping you into his arms. He couldn’t quite hold back the chuckle that escaped at your low squeak. You’d known he’d do it, too, but it never failed to elicit the same response each time he did. Steve lived for hearing you make that same sound whenever he could pull it from you.

“It’s awfully late, sweetheart. You should be sleeping, not waiting up for me,” he gently chided even as he carried you toward the sofa.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Pepper’s given me the rest of the year off. Plus, it’s Christmas in, like, fifteen minutes. Couldn’t go to sleep without wishing you a ‘Merry Christmas’, now can I? That’d break tradition.”

“And we can’t have that, either,” he finished for you. His cheeks hurt from smiling at your endearing self. In some ways, he still couldn’t believe you’d taken such a chance on loving him, and he could only hope that he never made you regret it.

Steve dropped onto the sofa and tugged you closer within his arms, taking in your sweet scent and warmth. Nothing but you could ever ease the tension within him so quickly.

Your hands smoothed over the material of his tactical suit, something he hadn’t bothered changing out of in his rush to get home. The debriefing had taken longer than he’d cared for, and he’d just been eager to get home and breathe you in for as long as his exhausted state permitted. When one hand came to rest over his steadily beating heart, he allowed his eyes to close briefly, content in that moment.

“How are you?” you murmured low enough that he almost didn’t catch it.

After having been asked this numerous times before and throughout the debriefing, the words just spilled out of him without a second thought. “I’m fine.”

Yet, you weren’t having any of it. Your free hand moved until your fingers could play with the longer strands of his hair near his suit collar. You twisted them until they curled around your fingers and gently tugged until his eyes popped open, catching the soft yet determined look in your eyes.

Only when you knew you had his full attention once more did you speak again.

“While it’s nice to hear the Cap party line still going strong, I was asking after my husband. How is Steve doing with everything that went down?”

While he knew you didn’t have all the details of the mission, he also knew that Nat and Bucky had probably filled you in on what they could. They’d become your eyes and ears on him since the day you two made things official without you ever asking.

He never had any doubts it was to keep him from being reckless, something Bucky accused him of doing quite regularly. You’ve yet to use such knowledge and leverage against him in ways he’d resent or find too obsessive/possessive to be healthy.

If anything, you always used that information to help ease whatever terrors might be trying to take hold of him. He loved you all the more for it as his gaze swept the living room once more, not missing one detail of the comfort you wanted for him.

Knowing you wouldn’t hold out for his answer forever, he turned to you and admitted, “I’ve been better.”

“Anything I can do?”

Steve tugged you closer and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Tell me about that nutcracker outside. How did you get it home?”

The amused glint in your eyes was enough to have Steve relaxing further.

“Honestly, I’m surprised I got it here at all.”

Steve’s brows rose at that.

Your amusement turned a bit sheepish as you added, “I may or may not have created a sort of competition between Tony and Rhodey to help me get it home.”

Over the next few minutes, you regaled him with the epic adventure that was picking up and transporting the nutcracker to your shared front door. Tony and Rhodey’s bickering that came from whatever they’d been arguing about before they came to help. The calling of their respective superhero suits to aid them with this new task. And the destruction of three other nutcrackers before they finally worked together to bring this final to its new home.

By the end of your story, Steve’s tension had almost completely melted away. A sleepy grin adorned his features even as his eyes began to droop, his exhaustion starting to hit him.

He barely roused when your phone’s alarm chimed midnight.

“It’s Christmas, Mr. Rogers,” you said softly, running a hand through his hair. “Time to get some real shuteye.”

You moved out of his loosened hold until you were standing between his spread legs. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, murmuring, “Come on, handsome. You only have about a foot to move and then you can sleep as long as you want.”

He let you grip his hands and pull him up though he could’ve easily stayed put. As cute as you were when you ‘tugged’, you both knew he wouldn’t budge unless he wanted to. After a few playful yanks, he acquiesced to your sweet pleading until he moved to the rather comfy bed you’d made him on the floor. The Christmas tree lights would keep the shadows at bay while not interfering with his ability to get some actual sleep.

Steve watched you through half-shut eyes as you turned off the gas to the fireplace, allowing the fire to slowly die down until it extinguished. Your body glowed in the soft lighting from the tree, giving you an almost angelic appearance.

Not wanting you to disappear, he reached out and gripped your wrist when you would’ve turned toward the bedroom. He gently tugged you down next to him, his Brooklyn drawl thick as he spoke. “Where ya going, Mrs. Rogers?”

You shook your head, fondness and affection seeping into your words. “Nowhere, my love.”

As if to further prove your words, you wrapped yourself around him, cradling him against you until your legs twined together and your hands could run up and down his back.

The last thing Steve would recall before sleep claimed him was the sweet kisses you pressed to his hair as you promised to be there when he woke up the next morning. His arms had tightened around you and kept you against him even as his breathing evened out.

The next morning, he woke to find you curled against him. The two of you had shifted until you laid in his arms as the little spoon. You still slept soundly, giving him the chance to study you and fall that much more in love with you. The light of day further highlighted how much care you’d taken the previous night to ensure he had everything he could need to get through a rough night.

As much as he’d expected the night to be a rough one, it hadn’t been. That had everything to do with you, and he knew it.

No matter what life threw at him, he knew he could handle it as long as he had you at his side. He’d do everything in his power to keep you there, too, never wanting you to regret choosing him.

Not wanting to bother you, he settled back against the pillow that smelled so much like you. His eyes wandered over your sleeping form until they lifted to the Christmas tree above the two of you.

Several ornaments glittered and shifted in the growing light of the sun as it filtered through the windows. He picked out the ones the two of you had purchased together. Each one held a special memory that happened the year you’d gotten it. A picnic basket to commemorate your first date. A miniature of his shield which he’d almost accidentally hit you with the day you met. An old-fashioned golden key to remember the day you bought this house together. A cute animal couple dressed up in a wedding gown and tuxedo and holding hands. A puppy that…

A puppy?

His brows drew together as he studied the puppy ornament. It wore a cute little red bow around its neck. Little brown spots covered the pup’s back and down the front of its face. The rest of the pup’s fur was white. Little floppy ears that were made for flapping in the wind.

When he would’ve reached for it, you stirred. Your voice broke through his confusion.

“I saw the longing in you when Bucky got Alpine earlier this year and Nat got Liho not long after. While their cats are quite cute, I thought we could go a little different and expand our small family with a puppy. You’d have a running buddy when Bucky or Sam aren’t available, and I’d have a cuddle partner when you’re on a mission.”

Steve watched as you fidgeted with your fingers.

You barely took a breath before you plunged on, adding, “There’s a shelter not too far from here that got a litter of puppies not too long ago. They’ll be ready for adoption in a few more days. I might’ve taken the liberty to put our names down to hold one of them for us. That is, if you want to.”

With a gentle shove, he put you on your back and rose to settle over you. A wide smile spread across his lips even as he pressed several kisses to every inch of your face.

“Sweetheart, I’d adopt a whole shelter with you if it’s what you wanted.”

You giggled even as your smile mirrored his.

“Maybe we start with just one and go from there, huh?”

“Sounds like a plan.” His lips collided with yours in a sweet kiss full of promise. When he pulled away to catch his breath, he couldn’t help adding, “You’re still the best gift I’ve ever gotten, Mrs. Rogers. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

With that, he set about proving just how much he loved you, worshipping you under the still glowing tree despite the growing brightness outside. Neither of you cared so lost in each other until your stomachs growled in protest at being ignored.

That was a Christmas you two wouldn’t soon forget.

*****

A few days later, you walked into the shelter with Steve at your side, leaving with the new pup that perfectly matched the ornament you’d placed on the tree.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - An Ugly Toad's Transformation into a Prince

You know, after my what if scenario about Ian going to generic-off-brand-reddit for advice about his cheating, an element about it stuck in my mind. Specifically it was the part where Ian felt guilt for "subjecting" Alice to his sexual desires despite her being a willing participant.

It got me thinking about the possible reasons why Ian cheated. I mentioned his low self-esteem in that post as a big factor in why it happened. I suspect it might even have been the primary reason at the root of everything, and why he wound up distancing himself from MC after moving away, even though they were in a relationship.

It could be, regardless of MC's personality and reassurances, Ian's self-esteem was so low, he was convinced that they were far too good for him. In fact, being with him was almost like a punishment, something awful inflicted on others that left them as suffering victims afterwards.

We've seen plenty of hints in teaser images after all - Ian being mocked mercilessly for just wanting to be friends, assuming MC wouldn't want to date him, just settling for a relationship if he can't make something of himself... Plus there's the clear low self-esteem we've seen in the demo, both in his phone calls and in the afterlife story. Not to mention the emotional abuse his mother put him through to make him believe that his feelings and thoughts were sinful.

If every single person Ian tried to make friends with rejected him, made him feel ugly, like being around him was the absolute worst... that'd do something to a guy. Only MC seemed to see beauty in him before he transferred schools. He certainly didn't get along with Shaun either. I mean, having that strong "ewwwww" reaction to seeing him half-naked probably didn't help Ian's confidence all that much. Overall, Shaun seemed to struggle to hide his distaste for Ian, and I can imagine Ian would pick up on that.

For Ian, MC would be the exception to the rule that the world is telling him - he's ugly, gross, sinful, and not worthy of love.

Then Ian gets thrown into a new place without MC's support. This is a place that don't know him or his past at all. Surprisingly, he's not rejected there. He makes friends. Maybe he attributes it to getting a makeover. He changes his appearance drastically, focusing on his appearance much more. He makes an effort to change for the better. He makes himself "worthy" of love while there, and people respond positively to that change. By changing who he is in order to conform to what he believes is beautiful, he finally gets the approval of someone who doesn't have to settle for the old him.

In a way, it could be seen as a mercy. Sure, Ian gets caught up in his new friends, his new attractiveness and the excitement of being accepted, but a part of it could be feeling like he shouldn't "bother" MC. They put up with so much from him over the years. After all, they had to deal with the old, ugly him most of their life.

Talking with MC can also remind Ian of who he used to be - that ugly person people were forced to tolerate, who was more of a disgusting punishment than a welcome presence. In this new place, he got a fresh start with people who don't know who he used to be. He can mold himself into someone new, someone acceptable, someone people want. Sure it means forcing himself to socialize more than he's comfortable with. Sure it means changing himself completely, but that's clearly for the best. It's what society wants. It's what will change him from someone unworthy to someone he can actually be proud of for once in his life.

Ian doesn't want to go back to being who he used to be. He doesn't want to lose his acceptance. He makes excuses when he misses MC, convincing himself that they're better off not hearing from him as much, probably even happier without him constantly there weighing them down. He loses himself in this new "beautiful" person he's become, accepted and adored by far more people than he ever dreamed.

Ian never allowed himself to find others attractive because they would never find him attractive, in his mind. He rejected other people preemptively besides MC in his mind before they could reject him as another way to defend himself. Now... they accept him. Now they're not something to be wary of, and he can finally notice that they are actually as attractive as his fictional husbandos, waifus, and spousus from all the anime and video games he used to indulge in. He's too busy for fantasies now when he has the real thing.

It's a slippery slope, letting discomfort and things slide in order to finally get that approval Ian has desperately craved all his life. It's addictive, these sparks of approval even if part of him feels guilty. He doesn't have to settle for someone who can "see past" his "hideous" appearance. He doesn't have to subject them to tolerating a version of him that is unworthy. He can finally be happy.

But damn if Ian isn't so lonely. He's always masking, being this person others approve of, afraid of showing the real geeky person underneath. He hides his love of anime and games. He drinks more, parties more, gets into the more socially acceptable trends. The party scene is rough, but he's learned how to deal with it. He's got people to guide him on his path to stardom and modeling, how to present himself in an appealing way. He is told by his teachers, an agent, producers, and peers what's acceptable and what's not, even if it's taxing on him.

As much as Ian doesn't want to look back to who he used to be, he craves that deeper connection with someone. He tries to find it in his new friends - acceptance without the baggage or memories of who he used to be. It leads to lines being crossed, things he questions are right... but he fears losing what he has now more than the doubts gnawing at the back of his mind.

Ian can't go back to being that ugly and unwanted person he used to be.

It's only when Ian does something that he can't make excuses for, something so unforgivable that shakes him to his core, that he finally realizes that he's lost himself along the way. It's why he immediately calls MC in tears, broken by what he himself just did. His first instinct is to run back to his safe space, the one person who accepted him unconditionally at his worst, when everyone else rejected him. Unfortunately he knows that what he did would hurt the one person he didn't want to suffer because of him most of all.

Ian is at his lowest point in this moment. He has everything now in this place, but he feels even more vile and unlovable after doing as inexcusable as cheat on his partner.

So when MC breaks up with Ian, he can't accept it. The one person who accepted him even at his worst finally rejected him... and it's all his fault. He can't blame this on societal beauty standards or people being jerks... this is all on him.

Ian is forced to face himself now, both who he was and who he had become. The person he became won so much approval, got on the fast track to stardom and became a model. It's something he can't give up. He can't go back to who he used to be... but in the process he sacrificed the one good thing from his old life that once meant the entire world to him.

The only thing Ian is do is beg and spend the rest of his life making it up to MC. He has to fix this mistake, even though he knows it's unforgivable. It's the only way he can live with himself. He can still keep the person he is now, but just carve away the bad parts. He did it before when he moved there, and he can do it again. MC is the only thing worth keeping from his old life. He can just combine that one good thing from his old life to his new, superior life. He can do better. He has to. He made himself better once - he can do it again. There's still hope!

Ian can't go back to being that ugly reject... and he can't handle being a sinner. He needs to be absolved of his sin by the only person who can forgive him... and he needs the approval of the world that he so desperately fought to attain.

While this might not be the emotional journey Ian winds up taking in the final game, it certainly is part of his struggle for Sunshine in Hell. Ian is in the wrong, and he will be the first to admit it. His relationship with Alice was toxic, but he's not a bad person. He never wanted to hurt her, even if he didn't think about her wants, needs, and feelings as much as he should have.

Of course, Alice forgiving Ian, but still ending things just adds an extra complication to his tangled up emotions. It doesn't feel like forgiveness to him, true forgiveness if she's shutting him out. He has to make things right between them. He can't lose the one person who saw the ugliest sides of him and still told him that he was beautiful.

No one else could ever do that for him. Now... no one ever would again.

To Ian, Alice was the only person who could see past his flaws, and he is the only one that can see past hers. Who else would love her if not him? She needs him just as badly as he needs her. He just has to make it up to her so that they both don't have to suffer alone because of the stupid mistakes he made.

Unfortunately Ian never realized that Alice never saw his looks as something to overlook in the first place. She always found him adorable, precious, and lovable. He just could never see that in himself. He still can't see that person he used to be as beautiful.

Ian is a flawed man suffering from traumas and mental issues who desperately needs help from a therapist, and maybe medication. He needs better cooping techniques and to learn how to better balance his desires in a healthy way. It's tragic that he winds up causing so much damage to himself and his partner while on this twisting path to become a version of himself, a version of himself that isn't a punishment to be subjected onto others.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[knot-ee]

Did Yuji not drink much? That was a rare quality and a good thing. A very good thing. Satoru had been the only other man he knew who wasn't a complete drunkard. Despite having hundreds of dollars worth of brandys, cognacs, whiskeys, Satoru drank very little of it, but Megumi knew the famous heir had grown up in a wealthy household that paired spirits with food. Even semi decent employees tended to show their true sides at night with a belly full of alcohol.

Megumi had grown up despising alcohol and the men who drank it; it took many years of seeing how Satoru healthily consumed it to change his mind. To see Yuji drink glass after glass like some degenerate would have completely shattered the perfect image he had of his one and only friend. Yuji couldn't get any more perfect. Actually, he was getting more and more perfect... and that was DANGEROUS. It was one thing for the memory of little Megumi to be obsessed with his friend, and now as an adult those feelings were developing and maturing into REAL desire and love.

From his sweet heart to the alcohol-induced pink glow on his face, Megumi was... feeling a little tipsy as well. Tipsy and happy and just loving looking at his friend way too much. Megumi had remained stone faced for the majority of their interactions, then and now. He softened only when speaking about Yuji's grandpa but now -- he was smiling. The smile on Megumi's lips was tiny and soft and only brought upon by Yuji Itadori.

I like learning new things. Of course he did. Yuji was... so perfect it hurt. He was an angel on earth if there ever was one. Megumi had offered to teach him because it was a nice thing to do and yes, he had meant it, but with Yuji looking at him with those honey eyes... Megumi would teach him damn near everything and anything he wished it. The black haired man never really thought about his sexuality. All he knew is he didn't want to bed down with any prostitutes and he didn't want to marry.

Other people had not interested him much at all, and if his gaze ever lingered on a man too long, Megumi cleared his thoughts. Right there and now, Megumi knew that he actually wanted someone for the first time in his life. Yuji was handsome. That was an outright FACT, yet Megumi almost felt it -- felt that he could and should reach out and touch Yuji's damned perfect face. And why was Yuji looking at Megumi like that?

It could have been Yuji being Yuji, but it made Megumi feel AMAZING. And that head titlt!!!I It drove him absolutely wild; his heart felt it could explode any second. Megumi slid closer; the fabric of his pants against the chair made it easy for the man to literally slide and it almost looked like he was about to fall into Yuji's chest.

“ I.. don't know... How about.. ”

Megumi's emerald eyes dropped to Yuji's pink lips.

“ Baking? Making cherry wine? ”

And then he laughed; it just slipped out without thinking about it. It made him feel a little self-conscious, and he leaned back away.

“ I don't know. I've never thought about, hah, learning something new WITH SOMEONE. ”

Yuji was quite impressed when he saw Megumi down the drink like nothing. It makes him think perhaps he should be drinking. Is that what men did? Drink fancy alcoholic drinks? He isn’t sure why but he wanted Megumi to see him as a man and not just the little boy he once knew, even though he also wanted Megumi to know that he was still that friend he could count on. If he wanted Megumi to stay interested in him then he had to grow up a bit. He couldn’t stay that helpless little boy he had once been.

“On second thought I’ll take a drink.”

He smiles at Mr. Gojo. Satoru seems pleased as he pours Yuji a drink. Yuji takes the alcohol and tries his best not to make a face as he downs it before Satoru can warn him about taking it slow and sipping on that particular type of whiskey. However, not wanting to embarrass the young man he says nothing. He’ll have to learn the hard way oh well.

Almost instantly Yuji feels his cheeks heating up, his whole body seems to feel warm and fuzzy and he can’t help but smile even more as he turns to look at Megumi. His friend was just so gorgeous and perfect! Wow! He also felt a little sleepy but he shakes that feeling off because he wanted to enjoy his time with Megumi. No sleeping! Not yet. Yuji waves at Satoru as he bids them goodnight.

“Goodnight, Mr. Gojo! Thank you!”

For some reason, the air feels even thicker with just him and Megumi in the room now. It suddenly felt a little different in the room. Yuji wasn’t typically one to be shy but right now he did feel shy. He turns to his friend when he speaks and smiles gently trying to focus his vision on the other noticing it was a little blurry. Megumi saying he would teach him anything he wanted had his cheeks turning very pink! He could feel the heat and had to try his best not to glance away so quickly. Yuji would be so darn content just to have Megumi teach him just about anything too! It didn’t even matter what it was. So long as it was Megumi teaching him.

“It’s not that… I just like learning new things.”

He also maybe just wanted an excuse to have Megumi teach him things and get to spend more time together, but of course, he doesn’t straight out say that.

“Well, maybe we can try things we both haven’t done and learn together? What should we try first?”

He tilts his head slightly only for it to make his vision worse as the alcohol continues to affect him.

[meirimerens]

Célébrantes de la Fête des Lumières

[spaghetticat3899]

When you absolutely despise something a lot of people like, and no matter what way you look at it you cannot see the appeal, but you know you can’t talk about it in public or else you’ll get dogpiled to hell and back, so you just kinda sit there frothing at the mouth like this

[sysig]

Can’t, too busy flirting ♥ (Patreon)

[hoshigray]

Pretty Please with a cherry and spinkles ontop😩🙏 I need a Pussymatized Toji. Absolutely infatuated with his FWB. He was the one that said no attachments until he got addicted to her.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: lmao, "pussymatized" is new, but i see the vision!!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fwb! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - implied prior sex - backshots + missionary positions mentioned - oral (f! receiving) - feedbag position - multiple orgasms - Daddy kink - overstimulation - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, sweetie) - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - pussy-whipped! Toji - mention of spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

Toji knew better. He’s done the whole friends with benefits gig plenty of times, and he knows the big rule that comes with the package:

Absolutely no feelings involved, or else the arrangement is off.

“Hoooh…! Ahhhn, T-Toji, stop…Not too fast!”

That is until he met you.

For about a year, you and Toji have been friends with benefits. It started as something Toji told you about, how he’d sleep around and get in those kinds of relationships. You were the one to ask if he’d be down to do it with you.

The onyx-headed one thought about it for a minute until he gave in and said sure. However, he stressed the “no feelings attached” policy intensely. He considered you a dear friend – a rarity in his life – and he didn’t want what you two were doing to damage this close relationship. It was just casual sex with a friend, nothing more. And you nodded to his regulation with a smile, moving your friendship to the next level.

Off the bat, the sex between you two was great! It had been a while since Toji had done stuff like this, and doing it with someone he could trust like you made the interaction smooth and entertaining. Problems between the two of you were rare, and it’s thanks to you two being mature adults that made handling this non-serious relationship easy!

Nevertheless, one thing made this cooperation difficult — at least on Toji’s part. The older man was becoming more and more infatuated with you.

He doesn’t know when it started getting this bad; Toji was never one to be the one catching feelings during these kinds of kinships. So, this was a bit new for him, and it made the poor man go crazy as the days went on. Him? Catching feelings?? Breaking his own rule??? Get real!

But he couldn’t lie to himself, it was all different since he was doing it with you. You were the closest person he could call a friend outside of Shiu, and that never changed once you two became fuck buddies. If anything, things have gotten a lot closer between you two. You cared for his kids while he was away, cooked meals for him because you feared he didn’t eat enough during the day, or invited him on grocery sprees. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t do stuff like that before. Yet now that you and Toji were doing things beyond a regular friendship, the man was seeing you in a new light that he hadn’t seen before, and God, it was suffocating him. He doesn’t know how many of your gorgeous smiles or sweet strings of laughter he can take before he snaps. 

But it wasn’t just your personality and gracious aura that lured him on. As mentioned before, the sex was amazing — No, scratch that; you were amazing. It had been a very long while since Toji had done sexual shit with someone who could reciprocate pleasure. Fuck, you felt so good, whether it was jerking or sucking him off while massaging his balls in your pretty hands, or bouncing on his cock with that tight cunt of yours that had him on the edge, holding on to your waist as he’d piston his cock deep inside. Merely thinking about churning your walls that snug on his cock had him gulp thickly, thinking a heavy sigh would get these thoughts out of his mind.

But they don’t, of course. Because he’d be damned if he’d try to forget the image of your beautiful body all hot and sweaty with his. Your moans and squeaks were all prompted by his thrusts, and – fucking Jesus – he could never get over the way you said his name, so desperate for him with watery, doe eyes that pull him in. Looking all disheveled and alluring for him and only him, peering over your shoulder when he’d hit it from behind like you wanted to see him feel good. Toji would’ve been a fool if he hadn’t fallen for you!

There was a time when Toji’d slip up and hold your hand as he chased release, noticing you catch the sight of his palm and integers gripping yours. Thinking you were uncomfortable, he removed his hand from yours, only for you to wrap your legs around his waist and bring him to you for a kiss. It was just a kiss, is what he’d say to justify it. But hearing you mewl under his lips and whisper to his ears was the last straw for him, hammering his dick and spilling his load into you as you two made out passionately.

Yeah, there was no doubt about it; the guy was falling for you hard.

So hard that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It scared him a bit – the thought of you being his made his heart beat at a pace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. You corrupted his senses; he wanted to hear you, kiss you, feel you, smell you, taste you — fuck, did he want to taste you; it was so bad.

But it wasn’t as bad until you hadn’t stopped by for two weeks. You’d text him your apologies, saying that work caught you up and that you couldn’t see him and the kids. And even then, you’d still manage to throw a phone call before sleep, and Toji doesn’t know if that was better or worse. Your voice made his skin crawl, loving how you spoke to him all soft and fatigued yet affectionately. You were too good for him, having him feel guilty for fisting his cock unbeknownst to you.

He couldn’t take it anymore, being away from you. He could barely go through the first week, and the second had him itching to see you. That’s precisely what he did, calling you to let you know he’d come to see you. And once you opened the door to greet him with a warm smile, that last bit of thread in him had finally snapped.

“Nnmmah! Hic…shtooopp licking…! I’ll cum again, I’m gonna—!!”

After pulling you in for a hungry kiss, the man brought himself inside your apartment with you glued to him. Feverish pecks kept your lips on him, squeaking at how smoothly he picked you up and brought you to the living room couch. He’d suck on your neck while removing your bottoms, already stifling him with your fragrance to the point he shudders. 

He’d trail his kisses downwards, nibbling on certain areas that made you gasp for him, sucking on the skin of your inner thigh as his fingers rubbed on your folds covered by damp underwear. You had him on his knees, uncaring about the angle. His thoughts only thinking about the wet chasm he sees after discarding your panties. Nothing holds him back from plunging his face into your wetness and showing no signs of stopping when you’re wailing for him. He’d lick, lap, and suck on you with no remorse, face utterly stuck on your slit until you came for the first time. 

“—Ahhaa, I’m cummin’, Tojiii! OhJesusChrist—Nnnmoo!”

“Mmmph…! Fuck, c’mere, sweetie, lemme take care of you…”

And now, he’s chased you down for another climax, your legs tremble and your figure shakes as Toji’s tongue relentlessly pets around your labia, frantically licking your clit to expel more fluids to seep out your vagina.

And Toji drinks it all, stuffing his face into your inner thighs like breathing is not an issue. You cry and involuntarily try to close your legs as your nerves are at an all-time high, grabbing tuffs of raven hair. But the man doesn’t allow you to shy away, his strong hands keeping you grounded on the couch as he eats you out. They never leave your frame unless it’s to unzip his jeans to let his erection breathe. Your cute howls of pleasure, your delightful fluids painting his tongue and lips, and your intoxicating smell; all have his hard-on twitch painfully, precum staining his boxer briefs. 

He’s so far gone, his scarred lips kissing on your folds to gently juxtapose the tongue he uses to fuck you. You jerk and jolt, sobbing from the fervent mouth making sure every crevice of your cunt goes explored. Your orgasm still isn’t away, everything feels so sensitive that you feel like you could break.

“Tahhh, Toji, nooo,” you wail, trying to push his head from burrowing deeper between your thighs. Yet he shows no cooperation. “I just came, yer doing t’oo muuch…!”

Now, he finally removes his face from you, his chin wet with your essence which he licks from his lips. “Sorry, mama,” his rich emerald eyes lock with yours, they have you freeze under his gaze. “But I’m not done yet.” You shake your head, inching your hips away from his proximity. But he captures your waist and slides you back down. “Don’t,” he pleads, placing your legs on his shoulders. “One more time fr’ me, ‘kay, baby? Let Daddy have ya one more time.”

An excruciatingly slow lick from down your slit to your clitoris has you quiver, sloppy kisses further the mess of saliva and come between your legs, and you can’t control the throbbing sensation that returns to ache your inner walls. He chuckles, “Look at ya winkin’ at me, guess ya want more of me too, huh, sweetie?” He makes your ears ring and hot, throwing your head back when he spits and sucks on your clit harshly.

This time, Toji straightens his back a bit to lift your legs with him, hands securing you close to him on your hips. It was a view you hadn’t mentally prepared for, seeing your weight be supported easily. 

He continues to lap around your labia, taking in all the excess slick to suck on, not leaving any drop go undiscovered. His precision has you roll your eyes to the ceiling, a hand griping on his wrist as he rubs on your clit.

“Ohhhfuuuck,” your words were slurring together, brain too mushy to cooperate and form eligible sentences. The man between your legs makes that hard enough. You don’t even attempt to squirm out because Toji’s lips will latch right back onto you. “Daddyyy, right there…More, pleasee.”

“Good girl,” he praises, rewarding you with swirls circling your clitoris before a suck, and your legs cross around to push him further. “That’s my girl…Mmmm, fuckin’ Christ, taste too good…” His deep voice sends vibrations up your spine, chewing on your lip when his tongue nestles in between your soaked folds again.

He pushes the wet muscle back inside, groaning at the sensation of you clamping onto him and bucking your hips in his direction. Your cries fill the quiet space, his name coming out in rushed prayers was the only thing that occupies his eardrums. Fuck, he missed this so fucking bad, arms wrapping around your waist as he pushes his face deep, his nose bumping to the hoop of your pearl while he ravishes your insides.

The squelches of his tongue and lips are so raunchy and nasty, you feel like filth being used like this. You’ve long given up the control to conceal your moans, and Toji listens to every single one with intent. 

“—Ohhh! Ffsshiiit…!” Oh, no. You can feel it, the next wave climbing up. “Daddy, again! Gonna cum again, I cann’t...!”

“Yes, you can, mama,” he coos, blowing on your slick-covered lips. “Just a lil’ more fr’ me, ‘kay? Just let it out.” His mouth returns to erratically fuck you with his tongue, and his gruff moans are felt on your body. The pressure of your thighs squeezing him makes it better, hitting your delicate clit with gentle jabs that rock you into your third orgasm.

You scream, unleashing yourself as your climax rocks your being. Toji has a good hold on you, softly using the flat of his tongue to lazily lick your cunt, massaging your waist as your hips ride on his face. And it doesn’t help that the older man’s cock is oozing on his briefs, his thighs twitching with his erection wanting to be freed.

With a dangerous last kiss to your sensitive folds, Toji places your legs back onto the couch, wiping your come off his chin to lick his fingers clean before bringing his jeans and briefs.

“Wh..What’s gotten into you,” you ask with furrowed brows and hooded eyes like his, both misty with wanton thirst. “I see you’ve been more pent up than me.” He chortles at your jest, and you happily accept the tip of his cock into your mouth with a blissful hum.

“You have no idea, baby…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 8 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 6.2k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

A blood curdling shriek rang through the house, jolting Carter from her restless dreams.

She sat straight up in bed, heart racing as she looked around the dark room, head so heavy she could barely remember where she was or how she got there.

In her hungover mental fog, she pieced it together slowly. She was at the beach house, in her room, it was early, she drank so much last night and Topper said -

“OH MY GOD!” 

Another sharp scream came from downstairs, and her heart rate spiked all over again. She pulled the fluffy comforter around her shoulders and hurried out of the room, quiet on the stairs as she nervously approached the source of all the commotion.

When she saw what was inducing Sabrina’s shock, she doubled back, hiding around the corner so they couldn’t see her. Her stomach churned with bitter loathing, and something else even more nauseating…

She dropped the blanket and rushed to the half-bath off the house’s entryway, doubled over the toilet bowl as last night’s poor choices continued to haunt her.

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Rafe drove faster than he had before your interrupted rendezvous, seeming not to want to drag this adventure out anymore. You eyed him nervously from the passenger seat, searching for words that weren’t coming to you. 

Tongue tied and exhausted was not how you wanted to begin this…whatever this was between you. Rafe had given you words, so many of them, back on the beach and all he asked in return was a simple yes or no.

Are you my girl?

No four words had ever felt so heavy. The shitty part was, you wanted to say yes. At the sound of his breathless question every cell in your body was screaming yes! I’m your girl! I’ve always been your girl! 

But then there was that pesky piece of self preservation that cemented itself in your heart all those years ago and didn’t plan to give up any time soon. 

He looked so disappointed when you couldn’t give him a quick and easy answer, his chest now deflated and shoulders sunken as he drove the rest of the route home. Despite your lingering hesitation, you felt like you needed to give him something, needed to lift the frown that was settled on the lips you had tasted so many times this morning.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“For what?” He asked.

“I’m…slow,” you began, “it takes me a while, y’know? To find the words. I’m not like you, I don’t know how you came up with that speech in less than a minute.”

Rafe laughed, confusing you.

“What?”

“You think I came up with that speech in a minute?” He chuckled, “I’ve been practicing it every day since senior year of high school.”

Your heart clenched at the endearing thought of him in front of the mirror, driving to class, taking a shower all while rehearsing what he’d say if you ever gave him the chance.

“Oh,” you tucked your hair behind your ear.

It was infuriating, your complete inability to get a grip on your own thoughts and feelings around him. It had always been this way. You were well-spoken and sound-minded, until this one person was in your atmosphere, his presence your own personal kryptonite.

To be fair to yourself, it wasn’t just your own weakness for him that had caused you to build such high walls. When you were kids, he sometimes made you feel this way on purpose. He used to have fun watching you get flustered, just the right amount of flirting to send you into a tizzy, only to leave you spinning like a top with no one to stop you.

You truly tried to leave the past behind, burying it somewhere back in the sand on the beach. You reminded yourself that the Rafe of your memories was not the one sitting next to you right now. But that might just be the problem, because at least you knew that Rafe, you knew exactly what he would do next.

If he grabbed your hand, you knew he was about to drop it. If he said something sweet, you knew he was about to say something passive aggressive. If he acted like he loved you, you knew he was about to act like he’d never met you a day in his life.

But this Rafe, this new one, was completely unpredictable. Wild and dangerous in his apparent affection for you. How were you supposed to know what he did next wasn’t going to hurt? He was right about what he said on the jet ski - you won’t know until you give him the chance. Easier said than done.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he offered after you’d been quiet for a long time.

“This week has just been…” trying to come up with one word to describe it felt like a futile task.

“Overwhelming?” Rafe tried to help.

“Surprising,” you countered. “I’ve never been good with surprises.”

“You like to know what’s coming next,” he nodded, once again displaying a deep knowledge of you that you never knew he possessed.

Like he could read your mind, his arm stretched across the small divide and his palm, warm and soft, settled on your thigh, a single soothing stroke to let you know he’s still here, he’s still yours. The feeling of his skin touching yours was like aloe vera directly on the burn.

With a grateful smile, you leaned back in the seat and took a deep breath as he steered you home.

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Carter padded down the hall, stopping three separate times, trying to decide if she should just go back to her own room. But the sight of her frantic texts to you still saying “delivered” and not “read” was too concerning to ignore.

She opened Topper’s door without knocking.

He was sitting up against his headboard, typing feverishly on his phone. At the sight of her, he clutched his duvet cover, pulling it up higher over his nearly naked body.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” 

“Please, like I haven’t seen it all before. Like I didn’t see it yesterday,” she rolled her eyes.

“Oh okay, so you do remember. Based on the way you were acting last night I thought maybe you’d forgotten we’d ever been together,” he snipped at her.

“I don’t want to talk about last night,” she waved him off, dismissing his complaints flippantly, “are you aware of what’s happening downstairs right now? Of who is happening downstairs right now?”

“Yes, I saw her pull up,” he returned his attention to his phone and his frenzied typing.

Outside his cracked open door, Carter heard Kelce, Tom, and a few others come barreling up the stairs, chatting about the recent arrival.

“Be so fucking for real, did you invite her?” Carter said, attempting to lower her voice.

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but you do this thing where you think you’re whispering and you’re actually not,” Topper informed her.

“Topper…”

“No, I didn’t invite her.,” he answered. “Actually I was about to ask if you did.”

“Why the fuck would I do that? I hate her.”

“Wow alright, hate's a strong word, Carter, maybe calm down a little.”

Ever since their knock-down-drag-out at the club last night, the arguing that was usually playful and lighthearted had an edge of actual bitterness to it.

“First of all, if you ever tell me to ‘calm down’ again, I’m going full Lorena Bobbitt on your ass. Second of all, you need to go down there and tell her to leave,” she flicked her hair behind her shoulder and held her chin up as she bossed him around. He hated that despite how mad at her he was, he fucking loved it.

“How does that job possibly fall on me?” He scoffed.

“Aren’t you Mr. Team Rafe-and-my-sister? Don’t you want to get rid of the reason they stopped talking in the first place?” She reasoned.

“I’m not gonna tell her she can’t be here,” he shut her down. “It’s not my house, and it’s really none of my business. Or yours.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, “oh yeah? Then who are you texting so much over there?”

“I’m just giving him a head’s up,” he shrugged. “She should probably know too.”

“And you’re just assuming they’re together?” She snarled.

“Puh-lease,” he rolled his eyes, “did you see them at the club last night? There’s no way they didn’t hook up.”

She wouldn’t accept it, couldn’t, even though she knew somewhere deep in her gut that he was probably right. 

When Rafe still didn’t answer any of his texts, Topper sighed heavily, “fuck it, I don’t care if I’m cockblocking, I’m calling him.”

Before he could dial, the house shook with the slam of the front door. Carter and Topper hurried out to the hall and hesitated at the top of the steps. Your lone voice carried up to them, talking to no one in particular as you muttered, “un-fucking-belivable.”

Carter actually did whisper this time, “I think it might be too late for that…”

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The feeling of Rafe’s hand, warm and steady on your thigh, as he drove the rest of the route home was so nice and comforting, you let yourself slip into the possibility that this could actually be it. Maybe you really could just leave the past behind you, maybe you really had finally found each other and it could just be simple like this.

But your fantasy didn’t last long.

Rafe parked in the spot across the street that you had taken Carter’s car from a few hours ago. Even when he turned the key and cut the engine, he didn’t remove his hand from your leg. 

“You ready?” He sighed.

“For what?” You questioned, eyeing him curiously, his face serious as he looked down at the site of his hand on your skin.

He shook his head like he didn’t know the answer himself, “reality, I guess.”

You placed your hand over his, smirking at the sight of your fingers encompassing each other’s, wanting so much more from these hands and truly believing you’d have all the time in the world to enjoy them. 

“Bring it on,” you gave him a small smile.

“He leaned across the center console and dropped a deep kiss to your lips, causing you to sigh into his mouth. All the times you imagined kissing him, you never thought such a rough-around-the-edges guy would have such soft lips. You felt like you might be able to spend forever with them on your skin.

When he finally pulled away, you reached for the handle of your door, beginning to open it, but Rafe reached across your body and pulled it shut again.

“What are you doing?” You asked in surprise.

He smiled that perfect, dimpled grin of his, “extra credit.”

You giggled as he hurried to climb out of the driver’s side, hurrying around to your door and opening it with a chivalrous flair.

“Wow,” you beamed, accepting his hand as he helped you down from the tall vehicle. “You weren’t kidding about trying to be a gentleman.”

“For you, I’ll be anything,” he flirted.

Despite your best efforts not to, you blushed, the red hue on your cheeks deepening when Rafe kept your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked back to the house. It was the first time he’d held your hand out in the open like this, where anyone could look out from the windows of the beach house and see the two of you together. It was foreign to you, his public display of affection, and yet it felt so right. You couldn’t help but wish it hadn’t taken this long.

“Can I ask you something?” You said quietly.

“Anything,” he squeezed your hand assuringly. 

“Why didn’t we do this a long time ago?” 

Rafe’s face fell slightly, watching his feet as they made less and less forward progress on the sidewalk, until he came to a full stop. The question was mostly meant to be lighthearted, a tease really, but his solemn reaction made your stomach twist with concern.

“I…” he started, voice unsteady, not meeting your eyeline, “I don’t know if I should tell you this but -”

You never knew what he wasn’t supposed to tell you, because before he could, a sickeningly familiar voice called out from the front porch.

“Hey guys!”

Head snapping toward the sound, you looked up, and there she was, as stunning as ever in that same signature everything-you’re-not-ness. 

Cassie Bryant.

Her face was adorned with a glistening smile, yours was noticeably not. Everything in you sunk, including the corners of your lips, completely unable to hide the way your heart dropped six feet under the ground at the sight of her.

She was somehow even more golden and glowing now than she was back then. Glossy blonde hair flowing down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her perfect, blemish free skin glowed in the early morning light. Her big, round Disney Princess eyes quickly found Rafe and flicked over your joined hands, clocking the way they were folded together in unmistakable intimacy.

It happened so quickly, and yet it felt like years worth of hurt and heartache compacted into one small moment. 

At the sight of Cassie on the porch, Rafe dropped your hand.

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Surely, any minute now, a camera crew would pop out from the bushes and announce that you were being Punk’d.

Or maybe it’d be the Mythbusters:

The myth? That you can actually heal from your childhood trauma with just four years of painstaking hard work. Well, we’re about to prove that all of that can be unraveled in the span of 72 hours! Also, we will be using your heart as our crash test dummy. Myth busted!

You didn’t look over at Rafe, couldn’t bear to watch the way he pulled his body away from yours, ever-so-slightly, almost imperceptibly. But you could feel it all the same, and you were sure she could too. 

Before Cassie could say anything else, the front door opened behind her, Sabrina stepping out of the house and taking in the unfolding scene on the lawn.

“Oh shit,” she laughed, “this is awkward!”

It’s like her main goal in life was to find new and creative ways to make your bad moments worse.

“Is it?” Cassie asked, seemingly unaware of the cause of Sabrina’s laughter. “We were just saying hi.”

She caught your eye as she said it, a polite but knowing smile on her lips. You realized with shock that she absolutely knew what was happening and was trying to make you feel better about it. You should just be grateful for the unexpected kindness, but something in you was suspicious. The Cassie you knew would’ve jumped at the chance to embarrass you, and she would’ve loved the way Rafe was treating you like you had the plague.

Plus, her taking pity on you, acknowledging the way Rafe had just hurt you, was somehow worse than her just being mean to you. You’d rather she go back to that.

“Y’all having a good trip?” She asked you and Rafe when the silence had lasted just a little too long.

You looked to Rafe, waiting for him to answer, begging him silently to say something that indicated that you were in fact having a good trip…together.

But he just said, “it’s been cool. Weather’s shit, though.”

“Yeah that’s what Sab told me, but I got a few days off my internship so I thought I’d come hang with y’all,” she said, eyes on you as she spoke, like she owed you an explanation.

“Well, welcome, then,” you smiled a polite smile that didn’t meet your eyes.

“You ready?” Sabrina asked, linking arms with Cassie, thick as thieves. 

“We’re going into town for some brunch if you guys want to join,” Cassie offered.

“That’s okay, I need to check on Carter,” you declined, all eyes turning to Rafe for his response.

“Uh yeah, I’m good here, th-thanks,” he stuttered, so awkward and shaky, a completely different person from the guy who was delivering monologues and sweeping you off your feet just a few hours ago.

Cassie just smiled politely once more as Sabrina pulled her into the car. As they drove off, you stood wordlessly with Rafe on the front walk, your chest completely hollow. You mustered some nerve and finally looked at him, head tilted, a completely unamused smile tugging your lips.

“Weather’s shit?” You repeated his words back to him.

“Look…” he began but didn’t finish the thought.

You just laughed humorlessly, shaking your head at him as you stormed off toward the house. Rafe stood frozen for a moment, kicking himself mentally and begging his brain to catch up with the moment, finally rushing off after you, but not able to before you slammed the door in his face.

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Carter and Topper exchanged nervous glances at the sound of you stomping into the house. 

They slowly and quietly settled on the top step, sitting forward to listen in as the front door opened and closed again, Rafe’s voice echoing through the house.

“Wait…” he said, following after you as you marched further into the house toward the kitchen.

You didn’t stop, “No, go ahead, you should go to brunch with her. Don’t let me keep you from a good time.”

“Wait, let’s just talk,” he pleaded.

“I’m too tired, Rafe,” you rejected him. “I can’t do this right now.”

“So you’re not even gonna let me explain?”

At the top of the steps, Carter and Topper simultaneously held their breath as they listened, both jumping as Kelce’s voice startled them, “what are we listening to?”

“Shhh,” Carter waved her hand at him, motioning for him to shut up.

Kelce plopped himself between them on the top step, shuffling a bit so they’d make room for him. He listened in, picking up your and Rafe’s raised voices quickly.

“Oh shit,” he barely whispered, “trouble in paradise already?”

“Dude shut up,” Topper cut him off.

Soon, Maddie, Tom and Jack joined the little huddle on the top step, each cluing in on the source of the entertainment in their own disruptive way before being shushed by the group and eventually sitting. You continued your argument with Rafe, completely unaware you were performing in front of a live studio audience.

“You don’t need to explain,” you told him, trudging down the front hall toward the kitchen. “I know exactly what just happened because it’s happened a thousand times before. What I don’t know is why I’m even surprised.”

“Come on,” he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as his large frame rounded you. “It is not the same as it used to be.”

“It’s exactly the same,” you side-stepped him, walking into the kitchen and dropping Carter’s keys on the counter. “I mean jesus Rafe, it’s the same fucking person! I can’t believe I’m here again, it’s like I’m having a nightmare where I’m back in high school. Next thing you know I’m gonna walk into homeroom and I realize I’m completely naked.”

“Sounds more like a dream to me,” he smirked, trying to flirt.

You just blinked back at him, your sharp eyes cutting straight through his head.

“Do you think this is funny?”

His smirk dropped, snatched right off his lips by your ice cold tone. Good. You’d been waiting years to wipe that shit eating grin off his face. 

Something new was rising in your chest, knocking out the embarrassment and sadness with a closed fist, a fury long buried coming back with a vengeance.

“I thought all that shit was behind us, over and done.” Rafe reached out towards you but you stopped him with your own rough grip, lowering his hand away from you and dropping it like he’d dropped yours.

“Oh, it’s fucking done alright, so fucking done,” you spat.

 “You’re really gonna let ten stupid seconds ruin everything that’s happened between us? You’re not even gonna give me the benefit of the doubt. You really think that little of me?”

“It’s literally only been two hours, and you’ve already lied to me once and pushed me away the second someone saw us. And you wonder why I'm having a hard time saying yes to being with you? It’s because I fucking can’t trust you, Rafe!”

“I don’t know what else I can do to show you I’m different,” he threw his hands up in exasperation. “This is so fucking unfair.”

“Are you being fucking serious right now?” You stepped towards him as you snapped at him. “You’re actually pissed at me?”

“Yeah, I am!” 

“Why?”

“Because I lost my best friend!”

Everyone on the top of the stairs winced, air sucked from the room when Rafe raised his voice at you. For all his flaws and mistreatment, he had never raised his voice at you before.

“Oh shit,” Kelce whispered.

“Shhh!” Carter and Maddie hushed him in unison, everyone leaning in a little closer to hear how you’d react. But you said nothing. They couldn’t see the widening of your eyes, jaw locked tight as you gave him space to follow up on his outburst.

“Do you really think it didn’t hurt me when you just up and stopped talking to me back then?” He took the space you gave him and slowly unpacked the hurt feelings he’d buried for years. “I know I was a dick, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of how you felt about me, I shouldn’t have strung you along. But when that shit went down senior year and you just ghosted me, I wanted to talk to you and make it right. I tried, but you blocked me out, you went from talking to me every day to radio silence without giving me a single explanation. That fucking hurt. And you’re doing the exact same thing now, not even giving me a chance to explain things. So yeah, I am a little pissed. I’m pissed that you’re just gonna throw it all away again over nothing.”

He waited for your response with baited breath, prepared for you to yell, or cry, or do something. But you gave him nothing, mouth closed in a tight line as you turned on your heel and walked further into the kitchen, lifting the coffee pot from its home and filling it in the sink.

He watched your back as you scooped the grounds into the filter and turned on the machine. Minutes passed and you remained silent, hands on the counter, looking out the big window towards the ocean while the coffee brewed one drop at a time.

Finally, after eight cups had dripped into the pot, you spoke.

“How was prom, by the way?” You turned to face him, the edge of the marble countertop digging into your waist as you leaned back against it, hands crossed in hostility over your chest. “I never asked.”

Rafe’s gaze fell from you almost instantly. He didn’t have to ask why you were bringing this up, the ‘hell hath no fury’ look on your face dragging the memory forth from its carefully hidden spot in the back of his brain. Nothing made him feel like a jackass quite like that memory, and based on the mocking curve at the corner of your lips, you knew it.

The memory used to keep you up at night. 

For a full year after it happened, it was like a fire poker bent into the shape of regret and shame was branding your heart over and over. 

Now, the burn was healed over, still calloused and red at the edges, but you’d done your best to cover the scar tissue in the healing balms of self-love and lots and lots of therapy. Still, it was the moment in your life you were the least proud of.

You’d thought it was gonna be you. Really, earnestly, completely delusionally, you believed when he asked for your help with his grand prom-posal that it was all a playful ruse to ask you to be his date. You stayed up all night, decorating three different poster boards with glitter glue so he could pick the one he liked best. You bought out all the battery-powered candles at Michael’s - he said he’d pay you back, he never did. You waited with him in the park until the sun set, giddy with the hope that he’d drop the ruse and pop the question any minute.

“What will you do if ‘she’ says no?” You attempted to flirt.

“I guess I’d just have to take you.”

Every muscle in his body flinched at the memory and the white hot regret he felt every time it replayed in his head.

The kid who said those words was such an asshole. Standing here in the kitchen, looking down at you, the love of his goddamn life, and facing the possibility that he might lose you for good, he wanted to ring the idiot’s neck.

Because he hadn’t asked you. He made you watch while he asked her. And he didn’t even give you a ride home from the park.

Fuck, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was you, either.

Rafe felt about two feet tall, looking back at you with absolutely nothing to say. He was relieved for a second when you opened your mouth to speak first, until he heard the words.

“You don’t understand. The voice in the back of my head, the one I’ve spent years trying to silence, the one that tells me I’m not enough, that I’ll never be enough…it’s your voice, Rafe.”

He grasped desperately for a reply, but there were no words in the English language that made that statement any less devastating.

“Maybe that’s not fair,” you continued before he could come up with anything, “but I don’t think I have control over that. I don’t know how to undo it, if it can be undone. So those ten seconds that just happened out there? They’re  not nothing to me. When you dropped my hand at the sight of her, I felt like I was that stupid teenage girl again, giving my whole heart to the one person who knows how to break it. Blind and foolish and desperate for you to notice her. I don’t like that girl.”

You made it through the whole speech with a steady voice, up until the last sentence. Your voice cracked on those words, your heart doing the same as you pictured your younger self. The one who would sit on her bed for hours, rereading the texts she sent him and praying he’d reply.

Thinking about that version of yourself, you weren’t sure if you wanted to hug her or slap her. Surely, she’d hit you right back if she saw what you were doing now, potentially pushing away the boy she loved more than anything, finally having him within your grasp and letting him slip right through.

At the top of the stairs, unbeknownst to you, Carter was picturing that girl, too. She would roll her eyes at you back then, using sarcastic comments like “are you sure Rafe even knows how to read?” to mask her truer concern; that he could but he wouldn’t, and the heart you wore on your sleeve would end up crushed again. Even now, she couldn’t protect it, couldn’t save it from reaching out to this boy who did nothing but break it.

Frustration welled inside her, the absolute powerlessness to put an end to this cycle that hurts you feeling like a dark cloud over her head. The anger manifested into hot, watery tears gathering on her lash line. Without permission, one slipped through, rolling down her cheek slowly.

Topper caught the whole thing, and despite their fight and his resolve to freeze her out until she apologized, he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out and stroking her cheek softly, wiping the tear away with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

They shared a look so full of unspoken words and tender emotions that they almost forgot about the conversation in the kitchen, until Rafe’s voice cut through the moment and pulled them from their silent reconciliation.

“Are you okay?” He asked you after you’d been silent for nearly a minute, trying desperately to compose yourself.

“Yes, that's all just a lot. I’m processing,” you sniffled.

“Take your time,” he said, pulling out one of the high back stools from the counter and motioning for you to sit in it.

Your body was so exhausted, even your stubborn anger at him couldn’t stop you from accepting the offer. You slumped on the plush stool, folding your arms on the counter and resting your chin on them.

“How do you like your eggs?” Rafe asked.

“Is that a pick-up line?” 

“Nope, just a question,” he said as he opened the high cupboard and pulled out a frying pan.

You tried to remind yourself you should reject his offer to feed you, you should storm out, you should tell him where he can put his frying pan…but you were hungry. And so tired.

“Sunny side up,” you answered.

He nodded and got to work cooking you breakfast, eggs and bacon sizzling on the stove, Rafe close by with a spatula in hand, silent as he stirred and flipped. You rested your head on your folded arms, eyes half-closed and brain sleepy, watching him. 

If you blocked out the last twenty minutes, you could pretend this morning was your real life, could let yourself imagine it really was all this simple and pleasant and sweet; he’d cook you breakfast, you’d make him coffee, and you’d kiss until the sun rose.

At the top of the stairs, Kelce stood and started descending, before Carter reached up and grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?” She whispered.

“I’m hungry!” He whined.

“You can’t go down there,” Maddie scolded him, “give them some space.”

“Are we just gonna stay up here all day?” Tom complained as he and Jack stood to join Kelce’s crusade into the kitchen.

“Everybody sit down!” Topper whisper-yelled. “Give them five fucking minutes, you’ll all survive. You can fuck off back to your rooms if you want but no one’s going down there.”

Carter couldn’t help the heart eyes she made at him, surprised and delighted by his show of aggression in your defense.

Kelce groaned as he backed back down, Tom rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up as he trudged down the hall back to his room, Jack following with a huff.

“Kelce, I have a granola bar in my purse, c’mon,” Maddie offered, leading him towards her own door.

Alone again, Topper and Carter looked at each other for a long, quiet moment.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

“I know,” he mouthed back.

She scooted towards him, nuzzling into his side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple.

Downstairs, Rafe was done with your meal, scooping it onto a plate and sliding it to you across the counter.

“Thank you,” you sat up and began nibbling at a slice of bacon.

Rafe took the stool next to you with his own plate of food. You sat in silence for a while, only the sound of forks scraping against porcelain and the occasional “can you pass the salt?” between you.

Between bites, you rested your head on your arm again, nearly falling asleep.

“I’m so tired,” you mumbled sleepily.

“It’s been a long twenty-four hours,” Rafe agreed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“That’s an understatement,” you snorted, sitting up again and finishing the last bite of your eggs.

“What about…the next twenty-four hours?” He asked quietly.

You took a deep breath, the smile falling from your face as you considered the question underneath his question. You didn’t answer him right away, hopping down from the stool and collecting your plate and his, carrying them to the sink. Rafe was quick behind you, arm reaching around and pulling the dishes from your hands to lay them in the sink. His hand rested on your waist, turning you to face him, pulling you in. Reluctantly, and without returned tenderness, you let him.

“Rafe, I can’t…” you said sadly.

“Please just talk to me,” he pleaded, hands running up your arms and resting on your shoulders. You shook your head, blinking away fresh tears as you pulled away from him.

“It hurts too much, Rafe,” your voice cracked. “As great as the last few days have been, you can’t see that being close to you hurts me. I worked so hard to get over you. So this isn’t me throwing it all away, this is me protecting myself. Protecting what I’ve spent years rebuilding.”

“So what, that's it then? You’re just gonna go back to school and pretend this never happened?” The pain in his voice was palpable, and you cursed the part of you that wanted to reach out and make him feel better.

“I don’t know, Rafe,” a small tear slipped through, gliding slowly down your cheek.

“You’re just gonna stop talking to me, stop thinking about me?” He continued desperately.

You looked up at him finally, searching his face, nodding sadly.

“I’ve done it before.”

Hurt flashed in his crystal blue eyes, flinching like your words had burned him. “You didn’t…you don’t…think about me?”

“No,” you told him honestly, another tear joining the one before it. “Never. Because if I let myself think about you, I would’ve fallen apart. I’m not strong enough, I would’ve run to you, and every time I did that before, you’d let me down.”

“What about yesterday? What about this morning? Just think about the beach, everything was so good, it can be that way now…”

He reached out and cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing over the tears as he pulled you in toward him, kissing you out of sheer desperation. Like maybe if you tasted his lips, it’d transport you both back in time, back to the beach, back when he’d done and said everything right. 

You allowed him to take you there for just a second, before the incident on the front walk flashed in your mind again, the pain of rejection like a knife to your gut. You pulled away from him quickly, side stepping him and moving to the other side of the kitchen, creating as much distance between you as possible.

“No, no, you can’t just kiss me and act like what just happened with Cassie didn’t happen,” you shook your head rapidly, wiping your tear stained streaks with the backs of your hands. “I can’t do this right now, I need some time to think.”

It required fighting every impulse he had, but he didn’t push, didn’t close the space between you, didn’t try to regain the control he was so used to having. He just sighed deeply and nodded, eyes low.

“Okay, well let me know when you’re done…thinking.”

With one last longing look at you, he stepped away to the basement steps, stopping at the top and turning halfway toward you.

“Oh and that girl? The one who gave me her heart? For what it’s worth, I like her. Always have.”

With that, he was gone, the door clicking softly behind him.

Carter and Topper could hear you approach the bottom of the steps. Carter stood first, fully ready to greet you and grill you on everything that had happened since you last spoke. Topper could see all her questions and comments written on her face. He grabbed her hand and squeezed gently, stopping her before she marched down the stairs towards you. She looked at him in surprise but understood quickly as he gave her a slight shake of his head, whispering, “give her some space.”

Reluctantly, she nodded, allowing him to lead her quietly down the hall and into his room.

Your footsteps were heavy on the stairs, body aching. Your brain was so fried you couldn’t even pick one thing from the morning to focus on, like the part of your brain that processes events was temporarily out of order. So you stopped trying to think and just let your feet carry you to your bed, crawling under the covers in your clothes, falling quickly into a restless slumber.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

In your dreams, you were back in the kitchen with him, shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence as you did the dishes together. Rafe washed and you dried. 

Only, it wasn’t the beach house kitchen, it was one you’d never been in before. And in that dream-state way of knowing something you don’t actually know, you were sure it was a kitchen the two of you shared, sometime in the distant, unwritten future.

(chapter 9: part one)

a/n: I'm so sorry, I had to do it.......also the prom thing may or may not be based on a true story and I may or may not have cried writing it....

also I’m sick and tired so I didn’t edit much sorry for typos!

please note: the taglist for this series is closed. For updates when I post, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3

friendly reminder that writers live off of reblogs, don’t forget to feed your faves! 💘

[alsofoundinpeas]

In the Blink of a Lens

Summary: When Spencer Reid finally succumbs to technology and gets a smartphone, he takes a tentative step into the digital world by sending his best friend (and colleague) Y/N a picture. What starts as an innocent attempt to embrace modern tech leaves Y/N flustered as the seemingly innocent gesture forces her to confront feelings she’s been ignoring for years. Neither of them is prepared for the powerful impact of a single, innocent photo as the lines between friendship and something more start to blur.

(AKA Spencer sends the above selfie and reader gets horny because his hand is quite literally swallowing the phone HAHAHA)

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Hand kink/fixation. Overstimulation. Oral (both m and f receiving). Fingering. Unprotected sex/P in V sex (do as I say not as I do and STAY PROTECTED IRL!!). Dirty talk/praise kink. Softdom!Spencer and bratty!sub!reader. Some religious phrasing (because who are fanfic writers really without it?) Pull-out method used (again, do as I say not as I do!!) Very brief mention of a sex toy (doesn't get used). Fluffy smut. Two idiots in love/best friends to lovers trope. <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader

A/N: This is my humble contribution to the Spencer Reid hand kink supremacy (no but seriously how are his hands THAT attractive??). This is kinda sorta an AU I guess because I wrote this with season four Reid in mind but I'm not sure (and Google will not give me a clear answer) if that type of iPhone was around then so let's just pretend it was for the sake of the fic pls. :') Also the "Sincerely, Spencer Reid" was a direct nod to B99's very own Raymond Holt because I could definitely see him and Spence handling tech the same way LMAO. As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all :) (I also ask that my work not be uploaded to other platforms or translated without my explicit permission. Thank you!)

Am I doing this selfie thing right? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

The screen felt almost blinding in the dim lighting of Y/N's bedroom as she stared slack-jawed at the image open on her phone.

Spencer finally upgraded to a smartphone a week ago after an unfortunate crash to the ground (stupid raised sidewalk) shattered the old flip phone that had long ago earned him the nickname "Grandpa" from his pain-in-the-ass-loving best friend. Y/N had never seen a man so devastated over losing what was essentially a brick that made calls, so to cheer him up, she helped him pick out a new phone and set it up.

She was beginning to regret that decision as she gawked at the selfie Spencer had sent.

It was sweet—an innocent photo of him sitting in his car, just after finishing the paperwork he’d insisted on handling alone, despite her offers to help. He'd banished her to her apartment, as stubborn as ever. The shot was taken in his rearview mirror, a faint grin tugging at his lips, his maple-toned eyes obscured by the phone. There was nothing about the image that should have made her pulse quicken. But when the realization hit her, a rush of warmth flooded her face.

It was his hand.

His hand seemed almost too big for the phone, dwarfing it as he snapped the picture. It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed how large his hands were—everyone did—but she’d never given it much thought. Until now. Watching the way his fingers effortlessly swallowed the device, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. There was something about the sheer size of his hand, the way it seemed to overpower the phone, that made her suddenly hyper-aware of every detail.

His fingers were long, elegant, and well-cared-for; fingers that seemed capable of touching parts of her she'd never been able to reach on her own—

No. No, no, no. There was absolutely no way she was having these thoughts about Spencer Reid. Spencer, her endearingly awkward best friend of four years. Her rock. Her partner in the field. The man she’d always thought of as just that—nothing more. Well...

Y/N did have a crush on him once, in the earliest stages of their friendship. But it was just a small, silly, unreciprocated crush that she locked away in the deepest parts of her subconscious so that she could at least still be his friend. She accepted that it would never happen and moved on. Or she thought she had...

A muffled curse leaves Y/N's lips as she realizes she never responded, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard as she struggles to think of a response. Since when has she ever struggled to talk to Spencer? Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with her tonight? Was she ovulating?

Y/N: Next time, show off those pretty brown eyes of yours and you've got it down pat :)

Okay... That sounded way flirtier than she intended... But that's how they usually joked with each other, right? She was just overthinking everything because she was exhausted from their most recent case. That's it.

Y/N: Also... why have you not put your phone case on yet?? You're practically begging for another sidewalk incident to happen, Grandpa.

That's better. That feels normal.

She sets her phone down on her nightstand, picking up her abandoned book to continue reading. Y/N's heart rate is almost back to normal when her phone's ringtone blaring startles her, the book falling to her lap with a muted thud. An annoyed groan rumbles in her throat as she reaches over to grab the device, internally praying it wasn't Hotch calling with another case. They had JUST gotten back from Ohio not even six hours ago and she just wanted to rest—

To her surprise, it was Spencer calling.

"It's awfully late for you to be calling, Grandpa," Y/N drawled as she answered the call, her lips curling up into a grin as she heard Spencer scoff on the other line. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

"I am in bed," Spencer grumbled in response, and she could hear some shuffling as he got comfortable. "And I put the case on right after I sent the selfie, thank you very much. Speaking of, did you know that the origin of selfies was actually believed to be..."

Spencer launched into a thorough explanation of not only the origins of selfies but also a detailed account of why self-portraits came about. Y/N hung onto every word, just as she always did when he spoke. Most people found his rambling to be annoying, but not her. She thought it was fascinating how much information he kept tucked away in that brain of his and was more than willing to listen and ask questions about anything he blurted out.

The conversation stretches on for another hour, neither of them wanting to be the one to end it. It’s not until the fifth yawn escapes Spencer that Y/N finally chuckles into the phone before reluctantly saying goodnight. Spencer’s voice is warm as he wishes her sweet dreams, and the call ends with the soft beep of disconnecting. And, for the first time in a long while, sweet dreams she did have…

"Does that feel good? Hm, pretty girl?" Spencer murmured into her ear as she writhed between his spread legs, her bare back pressed flush to his clothed chest.

The night had started with celebratory drinks after finally closing one of their more grueling cases, the team getting some much-needed relaxation and bonding in. Spencer was Y/N's designated driver as per usual since he didn't drink, instead choosing to nurse a soda as he eyed Y/N down from across the booth.

He was directly across from her, snugly between Derek and Hotch. But he wasn't paying attention to them. His eyes had been fixated on her from the moment she'd come back from the bar with Emily and Penelope, tracing the contours of her flushed face as she tipped her head back and took another shot.

Y/N had no intentions of getting completely drunk, instead choosing to remain just tipsy enough to enjoy the warmth that flowed through her body from the alcohol and maintain a steady buzz. That way she could be aware of her surroundings while also enjoying herself and the company of her team.

The bar was dim, the pounding of her heartbeat matching the beat of the music bumping overhead as her gaze fell on Spencer. Her brows furrowed at the unabashedly hungry look in his eyes, her tongue poking out to wet her lips subconsciously. She had to have been hallucinating. There was no way he'd be looking at her like that... right?

But he had been. And that same look is exactly what led them to where they were now, with Spencer propped up against her headboard holding her at his mercy while his fingers pumped tirelessly into her drenched pussy. She was sure the sight of them was downright filthy, an erotic contrast of her completely bare body pressed against his fully clothed one.

Y/N was in shambles, her legs trembling as her nails dug uselessly into his thighs while soft whimpers and moans flowed freely from her kiss-swollen lips. Her mind was reeling, a dizzying mixture of the remaining alcohol in her system, the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach, and the knowledge that it was Spencer causing said pleasure.

She was so, so close... just a few more strokes of his fingers and...

A sharp gasp sounded through the bedroom as Y/N jolted awake, her chest heaving as she shakily sat up to turn off her alarm. She blinked hard, attempting to clear the fog from her vision as she fell back into her pillows. The dull aching between her thighs served as a sore reminder of what she was so close to achieving in her dream...

Her eyes snapped open as the memory of the dream hit her like a tidal wave. Guilt, confusion, and sheer horror crashed over her, and she groaned, her hands dragging down her face in frustrated disbelief. She’d just had a dream—a wet dream—about Spencer Fucking Reid.

What had gotten into her?

Before she could dive too deep into why her crush on Spencer had apparently resurfaced with a vengeance after being dormant for so long, her phone dinged with a message from the genius himself. It felt like the universe was rubbing salt in the wound, taunting her for the forbidden thoughts she couldn’t seem to shake about her best friend.

Spence <3: Are you going to get coffee? Sincerely, Spencer Reid

Y/N snorted out a laugh at how he signed his text, shaking her head as she responded.

Y/N: ... Spence, you don't have to sign your name on each text. I have your number saved. And yes, I am :)

A minute passes before his response comes through.

Spence <3: Oh. Well then, can you also bring me coffee please?

Y/N: Of course I can <3

Her earlier guilt lingers in the pit of her stomach as she sets the phone down, rolling out of bed with a sigh to begin getting ready for work. How was she going to face him after having a dream like that? Maybe it was a fluke; a one-off occurrence manifested from her lack of sexual endeavors so her brain had no choice but to use Spencer as a fill-in for her fantasies.

Opting to pretend it never happened so she could face her best friend later, Y/N finished getting ready and left for the café, determined to get there on time for work.

The elevator dinged as Y/N strolled into the bullpen, her and Spencer's usual orders in hand and a soft smile on her face. Thankfully, today was a paperwork day—a task most of the team dreaded, but one Y/N welcomed. It gave her a chance to recover from the constant motion sickness from the jet and the relentless flirtations of the officers when they worked cases out of state.

"Mm, my very own coffee fairy!" Spencer grinned, setting down the stack of papers he’d been poring over. His eyes sparkled as she made her way across the room, finally meeting his gaze from across the desk as she stopped in front of him. "Have I ever told you you're the best?"

"Yes, you have," Y/N teased with a playful grin, holding out his coffee. "But I don’t mind hearing it more often."

Her dream, it seemed, hadn’t been a fluke, a realization that hits her as Spencer grabs his coffee. Her eyes involuntarily track the way his fingers curl around the Styrofoam cup, and a shiver runs up her spine when they inadvertently brush against hers. Her cheeks flush as she quickly pulls her gaze away, meeting his curious eyes instead.

"You feeling okay, Y/N? You look a little flushed," Spencer murmured, his brow furrowed in concern as he eyed her over the rim of his cup.

Y/N blinked, her heart pounding in her throat as she swallowed and nodded. The sight had sent her mind reeling, the memory of those same fingers buried deep inside of her in her dream the night before surfacing against her will.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm fine I just-"

Before Y/N could finish stammering out her lame excuse, Morgan sauntered into the bullpen with Garcia, the pair immediately honing in on her and Spencer as they made their way over.

"Oh, c'mon Y/N! Seriously? Pretty boy here gets a coffee but the rest of us don't?" Morgan taunted, chuckling as Y/N reached out to playfully swat at his arm with an eye roll.

"Well obviously! He's her work husband," Penelope chimed in matter-of-factly, giggling as she wiggled her eyebrows. "It would mean a divorce was brewing if she didn't."

The team had started the joke years ago, teasing her and Spencer for being the youngest members and for how quickly they’d clicked. To everyone else, it was obvious their friendship ran deeper than either of the two realized. The problem was that neither one of them could see it. Some profilers they were.

No matter how many times the joke was made, Spencer’s face still turned bright red every single time.

"Har dee har har," Spencer scoffed, his eyes shifting to the cup still gripped in his hand.

The banter was cut short as Hotch stepped out of his office, everyone mumbling their goodbyes and scurrying back to their desks to get their work done. Y/N welcomed the distraction with open arms, diving into her work to try to get her mind off of her conflicted feelings towards her best friend.

All day long, Y/N fought the growing urge to watch Spencer’s hands, but it was impossible to ignore. Her eyes were drawn to the way his fingers traced the edge of a case file as he analyzed it, or how they drummed a steady rhythm on his desk, each tap somehow amplifying the tension she was trying to suppress.

Her breaking point came when the team was wrapping up for the day. Spencer, eager to show off, insisted on demonstrating a new cardistry trick he’d learned. The rest of the team gathered around, and Y/N felt herself drawn in, unable to look away. Her eyes locked on his fingers as he deftly manipulated the cards, the muscles in his hands flexing with each smooth, controlled movement. She barely registered her open mouth or the way her pulse quickened—every part of her attention was on him.

Y/N was jolted back to reality when Emily nudged her, a raised eyebrow full of amusement as the rest of the team cheered and complimented Spencer on his newly acquired skill. Rather than meet Emily’s knowing look, Y/N quickly murmured her praise for Spencer, then hastily made her exit, claiming she needed to hit a store before it closed.

If she thought that day was bad, the next few weeks were hell.

The BAU had two back-to-back cases, leaving them no time to rest as they flew straight from Tennessee to Arizona. The dry heat seemed to make Spencer restless—constantly running his fingers through his hair, fidgeting with his watch, or rolling up his sleeves. Meanwhile, Y/N felt her sanity slipping away, her thoughts unraveling as she stumbled over her words or completely lost track of what she was saying—because she couldn’t stop staring at those goddamned hands.

Spencer wasn’t blind to the shift in her behavior. He’d noticed how she started to occupy herself with something whenever he entered the room, or how she became increasingly uneasy around him—spinning the rings on her fingers, tugging at the necklace he'd given her for her last birthday, or even finding reasons to leave the room entirely the moment he stepped in.

Y/N's usual teasing had begun to feel hollow, and the familiar touches she used to give him—guiding him gently by the hand, rubbing his shoulder when frustration set in, or planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek before leaving—had completely disappeared.

He felt gutted, unable to think of a single reason for Y/N's sudden distance. The uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his stomach with worry. What if she was tired of him? Or worse… what if she had finally seen through his feelings for her and was repulsed by them?

When the team wrapped up in Arizona and boarded the jet home, Spencer made up his mind.

After Y/N chose to sit next to Emily instead of her usual spot beside him, he couldn’t take it anymore. The not knowing was eating at him, and more than anything… he missed her. She was the one person who saw him for who he truly was, the one who understood him better than he understood himself. The one who brought him solace during the toughest cases and reminded him why he kept going. The thought of losing her was unbearable, and he promised himself he’d do whatever it took to fix whatever had gone wrong.

As soon as the jet touched down in Quantico, Y/N quickly muttered her goodbyes and made a beeline for the parking garage. Finally, she was free. Free to go home, shut herself off, and stop behaving like a complete mess around Spencer. She hated how distant she’d been, but she couldn’t help it. The weight of her obsessive thoughts about him and the feelings she’d tried to bury for so long had completely overridden her rational thoughts, leaving her acting out of control.

Fingers closed around her upper arm just inches from her car, and a sharp yelp escaped her lips. She spun around, startled, to find an equally surprised Spencer standing there. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't heard him following her.

"Jesus, Grandpa! Make an announcement before you sneak up on people!" Y/N complained loudly, turning away from him to unlock her car and toss her go bag into the backseat.

Spencer couldn't help but feel some relief at the nickname, a surge of hope coursing through him. Grandpa. She hadn't called him that in almost two weeks. He cleared his throat, holding onto his courage as he finally addressed her recent behavior.

"Sorry! Sorry, I just— I wanted to make sure we were okay? I’ve noticed you’ve been acting… not like yourself lately. Not that I’m calling you weird or anything—"

Y/N's heart broke at the nervous rambling spewing from his lips as he stood before her, tucked into himself and fidgeting with his hands as he tried to speak. God, she was such an asshole.

"Spence," Y/N murmured, gently interrupting him before letting out a soft sigh. "I promise, we're fine. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant. It’s just… I’ve been so stressed with the cases, and compartmentalizing has been harder than usual. I guess I didn’t want to drag you into it. I’m really sorry."

It wasn't necessarily a lie. She really had been stressed and struggling with compartmentalizing... just not because of their job.

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed, his tense expression softening into one of understanding. “You know I’m always here for you, right? You don’t have to carry that burden alone. I’d much rather you let me in than struggle with it on your own."

Scratch that. She wasn't just an asshole. She was the biggest asshole in the world for making him feel the way he had.

"I know that. I really do," Y/N murmured, her fingers nervously playing with her lip. "It's just… I get way too independent sometimes." She sighed, then brightened. "How about this? Tomorrow’s our first Saturday off in over a month… Why don’t you come over and we can do a movie marathon? We could use some good 'work spouse' bonding, don’t you think?"

Spencer’s smile stretched across his face, his voice a little more eager than usual and his cheeks flushed. "Yeah, I'd, uh... I'd love that. Let's do it."

Y/N returned his grin, her heart fluttering from how excited he looked. Relief flooded through her veins as he agreed to her plans, not realizing how much she had truly missed him the past few weeks since she'd been so focused on trying not to gawk at him every five minutes.

"Perfect. It’s a date,” Y/N teased, her smile widening. “Now, get in. I’m not letting you take the train back this late."

"What? Isn't this what you wanted, sweetheart?" Spencer crooned into her ear, tightening his hold around her wrists as he kept them pinned above her head.

Another frustrated whine left her lips as she tugged uselessly against his hold, but they both knew she didn't actually want to slip free. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around both of her wrists, his other tracing maddeningly up and down her side.

"Or did you want Officer Davidson's hands on you instead?" His tone was taunting, a hint of jealousy tainting his words as he tightened his grip.

The moment they stepped into their shared hotel room after leaving the precinct, Spencer was all over her. She’d noticed the heated glares he shot her way while she stood across the room, wearing a bored expression as Officer Davidson repeatedly (and unsuccessfully) tried to flirt with her.

They hadn't announced their new relationship status to the team yet per Spencer's insistence, but it was obvious from the intensity in Spencer’s eyes that he wanted to shout it to the world now. The way he glared at Davidson made it clear he was ready to stake his claim, watching the officer eye her like prey.

Now they were here, with Spencer hellbent on making sure she understood that she was his.

Y/N shook her head, looking up at Spencer pleadingly as she tilted her hips up in search of his. "No, never. Only want you, Spence."

A dark chuckle escaped him as he smirked down at her, his hand, which had been trailing along her side, now cupping her chin. His fingers gently squeezed her cheeks, coaxing her lips into a pout.

"Only me? Is that right, sweet girl?" Spencer cooed, loosening his grip to press on her bottom lip with his thumb before sliding the digit into her mouth. "Because it sure looked like you were enjoying his attention."

The flushed head of his cock teased her entrance, pressing between her folds as his hips slowly rocked back and forth, prolonging her teasing instead of giving her what she wanted. She groaned around his thumb, sucking the digit further into her mouth and holding his gaze in an effort to tempt him into finally fucking her instead of just grinding against her.

A soft hiss fell from his lips as his gaze darkened. He shifted his weight above her, keeping her wrists clasped in his hand and shoving them into the mattress as he began to rut against her harder. Her sharp gasp sounded through the air as he angled his hips up, the tip of his cock dipping into her deliciously before he halted his movements, keeping only a few inches inside of her.

Y/N writhed beneath him, whimpering her protests around his thumb as her jaw slackened, muffled pleas spilling from her lips as she began to beg uselessly for him to just fuck her already.

Spencer pressed down on her tongue with his thumb, a grunt escaping him before he yanked his thumb out of her mouth, using the hand to pin her down instead.

"Be still—"

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh light of morning pouring through her curtains, and she let out a disgruntled groan as she blindly searched for her phone on the nightstand. After weeks of peaceful, dreamless sleep, of course she would dream about Spencer the night before their hangout. Wait—

Y/N sat up abruptly, unlocking her phone to check the time, only to notice a message waiting for her on the lock screen.

Spence <3: I’ll be there in an hour with a surprise.

Sent twenty-three minutes ago.

Fuck. She'd completely forgotten to set an alarm to get ready for their movie marathon, despite being the one who had suggested it in the first place. Whatever brain cells that photo had scrambled in her brain needed to get a grip so she could function on a level above Neanderthal.

Y/N: Surprise? You spoil me, old man. I'll see you then :)

Y/N exhaled wearily, rolling out of bed and dragging her feet across the plush carpet. She shuffled over to her dresser, picking out an outfit consisting of black yoga pants and an old band tee before heading to the bathroom for a cold shower. Maybe it would clear her head—or at least get rid of the incessant aching between her thighs. It worked on men, right?

One miserable shower and a change of clothes later, Y/N finally managed to clear some of the fog clouding her mind. She darted around her apartment, tidying up in a flurry before Spencer arrived. Moving between the kitchen and the living room, she gathered everything for their movie marathon: a pile of 90's slasher films spread out on the coffee table, her biggest throw blanket draped across the sectional, and a bag of popcorn popping away in the microwave.

Spencer's signature knock rang through the apartment at the same time the microwave started beeping, signaling that the popcorn was done.

"Coming!" Y/N shouted from the kitchen, opening the microwave door so it wouldn't repeat the shrill noise before making her way to the front door.

She swings it open with an excited grin, her gaze immediately dropping to the bag in Spencer's hand. She beckons for Spencer to come in, trying to sneak a peek at what was in the slightly crinkled paper bag.

"Geez, don't look too excited to see me," Spencer chuckled, following Y/N into her kitchen.

She waved dismissively, laughing softly as she grabbed the bag of popcorn and a bowl to pour it into. Spencer sat the bag on the counter, finally revealing its contents as he pulled out a tub of ice cream and some sour gummy worms.

"A man after my own heart!" Y/N gasped with an exaggerated swoon, cackling as Spencer swatted at her playfully.

"You said you were stressed, and I know you’ve got a sweet tooth just like me, so I figured it’d be perfect for our movie marathon," Spencer said with a shrug, the faintest blush creeping up his neck.

That kind of thoughtful behavior was just another reason her emotions had been in turmoil for the past few weeks. The selfie had opened a door to a spiral of introspection, one that made her revisit every moment they’d shared. She had always known their friendship straddled the line between platonic and something more, but she’d convinced herself it was simply because they were so comfortable with one another. It wasn’t until now that she began to wonder if those boundaries had been blurred intentionally — if, deep down, they both had wanted more all along.

The movie marathon kicked off after a bit of grumbling from Spencer, who finally gave in to watching the cheesy slasher films he’d insisted were beneath him. A few awkward moments of shifting on the couch later, they settled into a comfortable spot—Y/N tucked into his side, both of them with snacks in their laps and the throw blanket wrapped around them, ready to dive into the horror-filled lineup.

As they settled into the movie, Spencer’s gaze lingered on Y/N for a moment too long. He noticed the drip of vanilla ice cream at the corner of her mouth, the sight causing an unwelcome tightness in his pants. Before he could stop himself, he reached over. His thumb gently swiped the sugary trail now pooling along her lower lip, a soft swipe that left his hand lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

"Here, you've got a little..."

The words died in his throat as her lips wrapped around his thumb, both of their eyes widening as their gaze met.

In that moment, everything fell into place for Spencer. It wasn’t stress that had been driving her distant behavior—he realized with a sudden jolt—it was something else entirely. The way she'd been pulling away, the tension between them… it wasn’t just exhaustion or anxiety. No, it was something far more complicated. It was desire.

Y/N jerked backward, nearly sending all of their precariously placed snacks to the floor as her face burned with embarrassment. "Oh, my God I- I'm so sorry Spence," she stammered, her words tripping over each other. "I have no idea why I did that-"

"Y/N."

Spencer cut her off with a hushed murmur of her name, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stopped her nervous rambling.

"It's okay. I-I liked it," Spencer reassured her softly.

Y/N stared at him, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"I liked it."

Spencer repeated himself surely, but the tremble in his voice gave away the fact that his brave front was exactly that: a front.

"I—" He hesitated, a heavy sigh escaping him. His hands fumbled with the snacks for a moment, setting them carefully on the coffee table as if buying time. He finally turned to face her fully, the weight of his words settling in. "Y/N… I've been in love with you since the moment I met you. I never said anything because I was scared… scared you wouldn’t feel the same. And after everything these past few weeks, with you pulling away, I thought maybe you’d figured it out and hated me for it. But… maybe I was wrong. Maybe you actually feel the same way I do..."

Y/N’s mouth parted in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something—anything—but the words just wouldn’t come. Spencer loved her. He always had. And she had spent all this time convincing herself her feelings were one-sided, certain he couldn’t possibly feel the same way.

Spencer's voice wavered as he spoke, his eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. "Please, tell me I was wrong. Tell me you feel the same." His words hung in the air, and he held his breath, waiting, afraid that his confession might have been the thing to push her away for good.

The raw vulnerability in his voice broke through the fog in her mind, and without thinking, she nodded quickly, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

"Yes! Yes, Spence, I feel the same way," she breathed, her voice shaky as she looked up at him, eyes wide with a mix of relief and disbelief. "I always have… I just… I convinced myself it was impossible. I never thought you could feel the same."

A soft laugh escaped him, his grin widening as he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "How could I not, Y/N?" he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "You’re everything to me. You’re the reason I started believing in soulmates… because I know I’ll never find anyone more perfectly made for me than you. You’re it. Always have been."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her eyes welling up involuntarily. No one had ever spoken to her with such reverence, and in that moment, she realized she held him in the same regard. But where Spencer's words were so effortlessly beautiful, hers often fell short. So, instead of trying to find the right ones, she chose to show him just how deeply he mattered to her.

Within seconds, her lips were on his, her hands gently cradling his face as she pulled him closer. Spencer surrendered to the kiss, his hands sliding to her waist, mirroring her movements and pulling her in.

It started as a slow, hesitant kiss that rapidly devolved into something more desperate as the weight of years of silent longing melted away between them. What Y/N couldn't articulate into words she poured into touch, threading her trembling fingers into his soft hair and tugging, urging him to hover over her as she laid back against the couch. Her lips moved against his fiercely, trying to convey the silent message that she was just as in love with him as he was with her.

The movie had long since faded into the background, its faint dialogue and sporadic screams now an odd soundtrack blending with the muffled whimpers and soft pants that filled the space between them as their hands began to roam. Spencer's hips were nestled between hers, unmoving and stiff as he tried not to mindlessly hump against her like an animal in heat.

Y/N noticed Spencer's rigidness, breaking the kiss to look up at him with a furrowed brow. "What's wrong?" She breathed out, propping up on her elbows and brushing their noses together. "Are we moving too fast? We can stop if you want, I-I'm sorry—"

"No!" Spencer borderline shouted in his haste to ease the insecurity he saw creeping into her eyes, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. "No, no that's not it at all. I just, um... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't sure how far you wanted this to go."

Y/N’s shoulders relaxed, a small frown giving way to a playful smirk. She idly twisted the loose curls at the nape of his neck between her fingers, her gaze locking with his.

"I want you, Spence. All of you. If that's what you want, too."

Spencer's nod was immediate, his forehead almost knocking into hers, causing her to laugh at his eagerness. "God, yes. I want that, so much. I want you so much."

Y/N grinned as she tilted her head to brush their lips together, landing a chaste kiss on his mouth before she tugged him down, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. "Yeah? You wanna fuck me, Spence?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as his head fell into the crook of her neck. If he were younger, he probably would have just cum in his pants from her words alone. But he was a man now. A barely composed man who was dizzy from the intoxicating scent of her perfume crowding his nose and the most painful erection he's had since puberty straining against his slacks.

"Such a crude mouth you have," Spencer murmured in feigned disappointment, shaking his head before pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the skin of her neck. "Maybe I should fill it up until you learn some manners, hm?"

He traced the fingers of his right hand up her side as he pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his left hand pressed into the cushions to keep him from laying all his body weight onto her. He'd caught her lingering glances at his hands throughout the last few weeks. He just hadn't been sure why she'd been staring at them so hard... but now? Now, he knew exactly why she'd been so fixated on them, and he planned to use that to his advantage.

The whimper that slipped from Y/N's lips as Spencer slid two fingers into her gaping mouth confirmed his suspicions, the shit-eating grin on his face growing wide as he pressed the digits down against her tongue. She began to suck at his fingers eagerly, the feeling of her tongue laving over them making his body tremble in anticipation.

His hips began to rock against hers, slowly grinding against her aching core as he pressed kisses up and down the side of her neck. Once he was satisfied with his teasing, he pulled his fingers from her mouth with a slick 'pop', replacing them with his tongue as he kissed her deeply.

Y/N’s mind whirled, both surprised and intrigued by the sudden shift in his demeanor, captivated by how effortlessly he stepped into control. It wasn’t what she’d anticipated at all. She’d seen glimpses of this side of him—brief moments in the field or during interrogations—but never like this. The man before her was assured and confident, a stark contrast to his usual, endearing awkwardness.

Their kiss grew hungry as Spencer continued where they had left off before, his hands sliding under the hem of her shirt and bunching the fabric as they trailed up. He broke the kiss long enough to help her out of the shirt, tossing it somewhere in the direction of the TV before capturing her lips once more. He was a man ravenous, consumed by the sweetness of her lips, and even the seconds it took to remove her t-shirt felt like an unbearable eternity without them.

Her hands were just as busy as his, dragging down his clothed chest before finding the button of his slacks in the cramped space between them. Her fingers fumbled with the button blindly, and her movements faltered when his teeth gently tugged at her lower lip.

"Off," Y/N whined indignantly against his mouth, tugging frustratedly at the button. "Take them off."

Spencer obliged, helpless to her commands as he sat back on his heels, easily undoing the pesky button that was keeping her from what she wanted. She went to sit up to help with his zipper, but in her rush to get his pants off, she didn't realize just how close his knee was to the edge of the cushion.

The motion knocked his knee outwards, a surprised yelp leaving his lips as he instinctively reached out for her to steady himself, but it was too late.

A startled squeal slipped from Y/N as they both tumbled to the floor, landing with a muted thud on the plush carpet. Spencer’s hands shot to her waist, his eyes wide as he glanced up at her, now sprawled on top of him, her laughter filling the air at their unexpected fall. He joined her, chuckling loudly.

They were a perfect chaos—rumpled clothes, kiss-swollen lips, tangled hair, and eyes full of love. But neither of them minded, because they finally had what they’d both been yearning for all this time: each other.

The fall did little to curb their desire for each other. Y/N ducked her head, pressing her lips to Spencer's with renewed vigor as her hands slipped underneath his sweater. She giggled as he squirmed underneath her touch.

"You're such a wiggle worm!" Y/N huffed, pulling back just enough to let the words slip free into the air between them as she lifted the sweater up and over his head.

Spencer scoffed, his own hands slipping beneath the waistband of her yoga pants and shoving them down her legs. "I can't help that your hands feel like ice!"

A quiet hiss left her lips at the feeling of his equally cold hands brushing against the skin of her thighs. She wriggled on top of him, kicking off the remaining fabric that had wrapped around her feet.

"So do yours, but you don't see me acting like a baby about it!"

"Oh, I'll show you a baby—"

Y/N cackled as Spencer rolled them over, hovering above her once more with a cheeky grin and soft chuckles. He bombarded her with kisses all over her face and collarbones, ignoring her hands swatting at him playfully as he continued his attack. Soon his pants joined the growing pile of clothes near the entertainment center, the soft glow of the TV illuminating the room as the final scenes of the forgotten movie played out. His hands made swift work of removing her bra, leaving her lying underneath him in only her lacy underwear.

Their laughter died out as they stared into each other's eyes, the weight of what was about to change—what had already changed—settling over them. But fear didn’t touch them. There was no reason for it. This was always meant to be; written in the stars, woven into their destiny long before they existed.

Spencer closed the gap between them, kissing Y/N tenderly as he lowered himself just enough for their bare chests to press together and their hips to align perfectly. A sigh escaped her at the feeling of his hardened cock grinding against her, the thin fabric of his boxers and her soaked panties doing little to conceal what lay beneath.

Neither of them had ever pictured their first time unfolding on the living room floor, but in a way, it made the moment even more unforgettable. It was a testament to how desperately they wanted each other—so much that they’d choose the roughness of the carpet and rug burns over the luxury of her bed to avoid the few minutes apart it would take to get to her room.

"You're sure you want this?"

Spencer broke the kiss, his eyes tracing hers for any trace of hesitation or doubt. Y/N's lips curved into a faint smile as she reached up to caress his face. Her thumb stroked the skin of his cheekbone as she nodded.

"More than anything."

The look in her eyes told him that she was being completely honest. That was all the confirmation he needed. His shaky hands found the edges of the lace adorning her hips, inching his body down as he tugged the soaked-through fabric down her legs.

Y/N's face scrunched in confusion as Spencer moved lower, her brows furrowing as he pressed a kiss to her knee. "What are you-"

Her words cut off with a sharp moan as Spencer latched his mouth to her clit, her head tipping back against the floor as her hands buried themselves into his disheveled strands. Her back arched as her legs spread instinctively, making room for him as he began to devour her. He shifted, grabbing ahold of her thighs and placing them over his shoulders as his tongue alternated between teasing kitten licks and long, drawn-out laps up and down her pussy.

Y/N struggled to open her eyes, peering down at him as pleasure began to flood her veins. The sight of his hands—those beautiful goddamned hands that had inadvertently caused this to happen— gripping her thighs hard enough to leave bruises had her mouth hanging open, small whimpers and moans flowing freely into the open space.

"You taste exquisite, sweetheart. So, so good," Spencer mumbled against her slick skin before sucking her clit into his mouth gently.

Y/N cried out, writhing underneath him as the pleasure in her lower stomach began to build rapidly. A loud groan wrenched itself from her throat as Spencer grabbed her hips, pinning them to the ground as he continued to ravage her in a way that rendered her useless.

"You can take it, pretty girl," Spencer cooed, placing a kiss on her clit before one of his hands left her hip to trace her folds. "Cum for me so I can fuck you so good you'll never want anyone else again."

Who the fuck taught him how to talk like that?

Y/N couldn’t speak to tell him that she’d never want anyone else anyways; that he was etched into her very soul, and every part of her would forever long for his touch and his touch alone. She cried out as his middle finger prodded at her entrance before slipping inside, her orgasm so close she could almost taste it.

Spencer moaned against her from how little resistance her walls had against the intrusion, immediately adding his ring finger to the mix. He thrusted them into her hard, curling the lithe digits in search of that rough patch of skin that would give him what he wanted. It took all of three strokes before he found it, his mouth forming a smirk as she gripped his hair and yanked, grinding her hips up into his mouth as she thrashed beneath him.

"Spence! Fuck, I-I'm cumming—"

Y/N barely uttered the words before her climax seized her, her toes curling as her vision whitened and the world shattered around her. She could vaguely register Spencer's sweet voice coaxing her through it, his forehead now pressed to hers as his fingers continued to gently thrust into her through the aftershocks. Only when she was trembling and weakly shoving at his wrist did he finally stop his movements, his lips meeting hers in a series of soft kisses as her chest heaved beneath him.

"Yeah?" He murmured with a smug grin, pulling back to smooth her hair away from her damp face with his clean hand as she stared up at him in bewilderment.

Spencer Reid had just caused her to cum harder than she ever had in her life. Spencer—the same Spencer that was too shy to look her in the eyes for a solid month after first meeting her— just made her cum so hard she almost blacked out. She understood why he was a man of magic now... and it had nothing to do with the novelty tricks he was always showing off.

"Yeah," Y/N whispered in response, still reeling from her orgasm.

If that was the type of climax she could reach simply from his tongue and fingers, she was convinced that she'd never actually experienced one with anyone else.

"Do you want to stop there? Or do you want to keep going?"

Spencer's voice was soft as he stared at the gorgeous woman beneath him. He found it ironic that he was already kneeling between her thighs because that had now become his place of worship. His redemption came in the form of her essence, dripping from his fingers as they rested against her hip. He'd never need anything else as long as he had her.

"Keep going. I want to keep going," Y/N pleaded softly, her hands reaching for his boxers. "Just—c'mere. Wanna taste you before you fuck me brainless. Please?"

A pitiful whine left Spencer’s lips as he felt his composure crack slightly. He wasn’t prepared for her to practically beg to suck his cock. He found himself nodding mindlessly, his hands going to help her strip him of his boxers before he remembered the mess still clinging to his fingers.

“Clean these for me first, sweet girl. Then you can.”

Spencer brought his fingers up to her lips, watching in amazement as she obeyed without a fuss. She even went as far as moaning while she licked his fingers clean of her, holding his gaze while she did. Y/N knew what she did to him. She knew he was just as affected by her as she was him. And she reveled in it.

Once he deemed them clean enough, he pulled them from her mouth before ridding himself of the last shred of fabric between them. The second that Spencer was bare before her, she pounced. Her hands pushed at his chest, urging him to lie back as she crawled on top of him.

“You’re so pretty, Spence,” Y/N breathed dazedly, pecking his lips before trailing her kisses down his chest. “God… look at you.”

Spencer flushed bright red while she continued to murmur her praises as she gripped the base of him, his cock twitching in her hand.

He had never been particularly confident—growing up as a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school had stripped him of any sense of self-worth before it had a chance to take root. Unlike Morgan, he didn’t have the muscles or the easy charm with women. He could count the number of sexual encounters he’d had on one hand. His dates rarely progressed beyond the first, driven away by his nervous rambling and the unpredictable demands of his job.

The only way Spencer even knew how to make Y/N feel so good was because he had studied every piece of material he could find on the intricacies of female anatomy and sexual pleasure on the off chance one of his dates would blossom into something more than an uncomfortable hook-up and dash situation. It also helped that he’d pined after her since he’d known her, that longing translating into a dire need to make her feel the best she ever had because that’s what she deserved. She deserved to feel pleasure in its purest form, to feel cherished and worshipped because that’s how precious she was to him.

And in this moment, as she gazed at him with the kind of reverence that made it seem as though he was the center of her universe, Spencer believed that maybe, just maybe, he deserved to feel that way too.

His fingers grasped helplessly at the carpet beneath him as her beautiful lips wrapped around the flushed head of his arousal, a muffled curse falling into the air as she swirled her tongue around him. Y/N smirked around her mouthful, her eyes glinting with amusement as she inhaled through her nose and pushed lower, taking him into the back of her throat. The gag that she emitted from the motion had his hips jerking up, a flurry of apologies spewing from his mouth.

Instead of responding verbally, she simply grabbed his hands and guided them to her hair, encouraging him to take hold and move her as he pleased. Once he threaded his hands through her hair, she continued. Her own hands planted firmly on his thighs as she began to bob her head around what she could fit, a soft hum vibrating around his length as her eyes fluttered shut.

Spencer was speechless— absolutely floored as he stared slack-jawed at the woman moaning around his cock like she was the one receiving pleasure from it. He gave an experimental tug of her hair, his head falling back with a thunk as she moaned louder and moved faster. It was as though she were unraveling his very soul with her tongue, hurtling him towards an orgasm he didn’t want to have just yet.

“Y-Y/N wait I— ngh!” Spencer groaned, his grip on her hair tightening unintentionally as he tried to pull her off of him. “I won’t be able to fuck you if you make me cum down your throat, pretty girl. P-please—“

Y/N whined in protest but finally eased herself off of his cock, a trail of spit bridging her lower lip to the head of him as she stared up at him with watery eyes and swollen lips.

Spencer felt delirious as he took in the sight. It was something he’d dreamed about (albeit guiltily) for years, and having the real thing in front of him was infinitely better than anything his subconscious had conjured up during those restless nights. She was a vision; a work of art that deserved to have a museum dedicated to her and her alone.

“Oh, don’t pout. Unless you don’t want to be fucked anymore?” Spencer chuckled breathlessly, arching a brow as she moved to straddle him. His hands found their way to her waist, a shudder running down his spine as she settled over him.

“If you won’t fuck me… I have a pretty nice dildo in my bedside drawer that should do the trick,” Y/N hummed coyly, dragging her heat across the length of him with a soft sigh.

Spencer’s eyes darkened at that, his grip on her hips tightening to put a halt to her subtle movements.

“Yeah? You think it’d make you feel better than I could?”

Y/N swallowed hard, the aching between her legs starting to override her logical thinking. She knew the answer he was looking for; the answer that would give her exactly what she wanted. But she decided to be a smartass instead.

“Maybe,” She answered with a shrug, nibbling at her lower lip as she tried to fight against his hold to get the friction she craved.

“Go get it then.”

Spencer leaned forward, his nose brushing hers as she sat in his lap, a challenge in his gaze. He knew she wouldn’t—she was getting restless, just like him. But if this was the game she wanted to play, he was determined to win.

Panic spread across Y/N’s face at the cold, indifferent look in his eyes. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her frown betraying the sinking realization of the hole she’d dug for herself. They were both ridiculously competitive, so why she’d started this—rather than just admitting how badly she wanted him buried inside her—was beyond her.

“I was kidding,” Y/N huffed, tilting forward in an attempt to capture his lips.

Spencer leaned back, keeping his lips just out of reach. He shook his head, smirking softly. “Nope. Either go get it, or say you’re sorry.”

Y/N hesitated, frowning as she weighed her options. She wanted him so badly it hurt. But pride was a hell of a thing. She knew he wouldn’t back down. Normally, she wouldn’t either. But his cock was pressed so deliciously against her clit that she decided it would be more than worth it to lose just this once.

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled, barely audible.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Spencer’s taunting made her groan in frustration before she sighed and tried again.

“I said I’m sorry—“

He shifted them so that his back was against the couch, her knees on both sides of his hips digging into the carpet hard enough that he was certain it would sting once they started. He’d make sure to take care of her afterward, though. He gazed up at her with adoration, thoroughly enjoying how needy she'd become. Her breath hitched as he adjusted his hips, the head of his cock pressing against her entrance.

“One more time, hm?” Spencer coaxed, his hands now rubbing up and down her sides but still holding her tight enough that she couldn't rock against him. If he was honest, his resolve had crumbled as quickly as hers, but he couldn’t help from teasing her for just a little longer.

“I’m sorry!” Y/N cried out, her forehead pressing against his as she whimpered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Spencer finally pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling back, his lips brushing against hers as he crooned. “Good girl, baby. Thank you.”

Hearing the praise fall so easily from his mouth had Y/N canting her hips down eagerly, willing to do whatever he wanted just so she could hear his sweet words over and over again. Her determination didn’t waver, her hips pushing down insistently. Spencer’s hold on her waist faltered, and for a brief moment, gravity claimed its victory.

A startled gasp slipped from her lips as the tip of his cock pushed into her, followed by a guttural moan that had Spencer's ears ringing as he cursed loudly. She had been so used to his hold that she wasn't prepared to support herself, his hands having barely caught her from dropping completely. He immediately yanked her up, the cool air against his skin a shock after having felt her warmth for the first time.

“God—fuck!" Spencer groaned as his head tipped back against the couch cushions, straining against every instinct begging him to just drive into her and utilizing every muscle in his body to keep her suspended as she wriggled impatiently.

"Baby... how are you— how are you wanting to do this?” Spencer whispered, swallowing before he continued. “I’m pretty sure I have a condom in my wallet, but I… um. I’m clean...”

Their hearts pounded in their chests as his words lingered in the air, the only sounds in the room being the repeated menu options from the forgotten movie and the ragged rhythm of their breaths.

Y/N meweled, reaching down to realign him with her entrance. “I’m clean and on birth control… Can we...? Like this? Please—“

“Yes.”

Y/N chuckled at his blunt response, though she was just as desperate to feel him after having the faintest taste of what he felt inside her. Her lips found his for a chaste kiss before she finally began to lower herself onto his cock, this time without his resistance.

Her laughter died in her throat, morphing into a choked whimper from the stretch of him. Even with how aroused she was, trying to make him fit was a struggle. Spencer was easily the biggest out of anyone she’d ever been with— a feat she hadn't quite realized until she was pausing halfway down his cock with a stuttered moan, slowly circling her hips in an attempt to adjust to the sensation.

Spencer was convinced he'd somehow died and ascended to paradise as he gazed up at the angelic woman hovering above him, enthralled by watching her fight to take the full length of him into her depths. His hands massaged up and down her trembling thighs, hoping to help her relax enough to take the rest of him without it hurting. Hums of encouragement rumbled from his chest as he stared unblinking at her, the warm amber of his eyes almost consumed completely by his blown pupils. His thumb found her clit and rubbed small circles into it as her eyes fluttered closed and she inhaled sharply through her nose.

"That's it, sweet girl," He cooed, continuing his gentle ministrations as she whined from deep in her throat. "Just like that. You're taking me so well. My gorgeous girl."

There was a pleasant burn as Y/N gingerly lifted her hips, leaving only the head of him inside of her. The way her hardened nipples brushed against his bare chest had her shivering lightly, the touch sending small sparks of pleasure jolting through her. Soft whines spilled from her lips as Spencer moved his hands around to grip her ass, gently massaging the flesh as she raised up on her knees.

With a committed roll of her hips and a quiet grunt, Y/N finally took the rest of his length, their bodies now flush together as her head dropped into the crook of his neck. The whorish moan Spencer released into her ear as he bottomed out had her clenching around him, a dire need to cause more of those sinful noises prompting her hips to begin moving. The raw stinging against her knees as she began to ride him in earnest only spurred her on, her nails digging into his shoulders as her head lolled back.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, resting her forehead against his as she panted out his name again and again, chanting it as though it were a mantra.

Spencer shushed her, understanding exactly what she couldn't manage to vocalize. He nodded against her as their bodies moved in tandem. "I know, baby. I know. You feel divine. My sweet angel." He continued to murmur out his praises as his head rested back on the edge of the couch cushion, small fingerprint-shaped bruises marking her skin as he clung to her.

Her hips began to falter as exhaustion started to settle into her bones from the vigorous pace she'd set, her second orgasm brewing in the pit of her stomach as though it were a wicked thunderstorm in waiting, ready to roll in and wreak havoc on her entire body at any minute. The slick sounds of their bodies connecting over and over paired with the symphony of heady moans and whimpers spilling between them—it was all driving her closer and closer to ecstasy.

Spencer noticed the fumble in her movements, his brows pinched together as he fought to keep his own climax at bay so he could enjoy the sensation of being wrapped up in her walls for a while longer. But he couldn't let his pretty girl do all of the work, could he? That would be cruel.

He planted his feet into the ground, beginning to pound into her from below. A satisfied smirk adorned his face as Y/N cried out, her head falling into the crook of his neck once more as she began to babble incoherently against his skin. The pace he set was wild and unrestrained, the angle allowing him to drive into her g-spot repeatedly.

"Take it, take it, take it—" Spencer hissed through clenched teeth before he latched his mouth onto her right nipple, sucking at the bud and swirling his tongue around it.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair, hanging on tightly as Spencer ravaged her. Her mouth hung open as moan after moan wrenched itself from her core and embedded into his damp skin. The pleasure searing through her veins was consuming her, burning her from the inside out. She was so close—

The catalyst for her orgasm came in the form of Spencer's hands slipping down her ass and underneath her thighs so that the tips of his fingers were brushing against where they were connected with each thrust. All it took was that one simple touch for the tension in her body to snap, her teeth digging into his shoulder as she tried to muffle her screams while her walls pulsed around him violently. Her eyes squeezed shut as she wailed his name loudly, not caring if any of her neighbors heard them at this point. She wanted the world to know exactly who was making her feel this good.

Spencer toppled them over onto the ground as she came around him, pinning her to the carpet and rutting into her fervently. Something akin to a sob fell from his lips before he abruptly pulled out, jerking his cock in quick strokes before he was spurting his cum across her stomach and tits with a cry of her name.

He crumpled to the ground beside her, pulling her into his side before he slung an arm over his face. Their chests heaved as they came down from their highs, both of them completely spent after such depraved lovemaking. His free hand stroked up and down her slick skin as she rested her head on his chest, calming the tremors wracking her body as they caught their breath.

Once Spencer regained feeling in his legs, he scooped Y/N from the floor and into his arms, hauling her off toward her bathroom as giggles bubbled from her lips at his surprising show of strength. Y/N watched with pure fondness as he started the shower, her heart swelling as he glanced back at her with a tired grin. When the water was warm enough, he held her hand as he helped her step in, following behind her with a hand wrapped around her waist to hold her steady.

After a shower spent lost in love-struck gazes, soapy caresses, and slow, tender kisses against the tiles, they ended up wrapped in each other's arms in her bed. It was only midday, but it was Saturday—so why not indulge in a nap? They had more than earned it after their (failed) movie marathon.

"Y'know," Y/N started, her voice low as fatigue began to cloud her mind. "You really do have massive hands." She took his hand, which had been resting loosely between them, lifting it to align with hers for comparison. His hand was nearly twice the size of hers, and the sight made her smile with amusement.

Spencer snorted, his nose scrunching as he laughed quietly at her observation.

"Well, yeah... I am 6'1", sweetheart. It would be abnormal if I didn't have massive hands," He stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, you love them. Really love them," He added with a sleepy smirk.

Y/N's face burned as she rolled her eyes, playfully shoving him with a scoff. "Yeah, yeah. It isn't my fault you have hands that were crafted by Michelangelo himself," She murmured defensively.

Spencer pulled her closer, brushing a kiss against her forehead, then her nose, her cheeks, and finally, her lips.

"You know I'm just teasing you. Did you know that—"

As Spencer began to prattle on about the variations and degrees of hand kinks and fetishes, Y/N's mind drifted back to the picture that had unknowingly set everything in motion. She couldn’t help but thank that raised crack in the sidewalk for pushing her old-fashioned boyfriend (that still felt so surreal to say) to embrace modern technology—because without it, she might have spent even more time blind to the fact that she was utterly, hopelessly in love with the man lying before her.

And as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, Spencer felt a deep sense of gratitude for finally being able to love the beautiful woman in his arms the way he’d always dreamed of.

Continued A/N's: I felt evil for my first (published) fic being so angsty so I decided to write this as a formal apology LMAO. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it. Please tell me what you think and let me know if you'd like to see a sequel for this as well! :) K <3

[taeslarityy]

outage ༄ joel miller one shot (18+)

-> pairing: no-outbreak joel miller au x female curvy reader

-> word count: 4.3k

-> summary: after a citywide power outage, you're left to deal with the scorching texas heat. until, the well-respected neighborhood dilf — joel miller — lends you a more than generous hand.

-> warnings/tags: sarah is 10/11 so joel had her a bit older, power outage, texas heat, yes this is a warning because its not a joke, reader has a cat!!!, age gap (reader is 24, joel is late 40s), curvy/mid/plus size reader, brief fatphobia, reader has self-image/parent issues + is a lonely gal, fluff, SMUT (18+), unprotected piv, creampie, oral + fingering (f!recieving), squirting, body worship, brief ass play, daddy kink, big ole tits, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, a bit of belly bulge, cockwarming, pet names galore (darlin, sweetheart, baby, _ girl), joel has a huge dick (not canon!)

-> a/n: hi hi! i have been so anxious to begin writing again and currently have some wips that i am just not confident with. so when i saw the lovely @hellishjoel post her #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i was positive i wanted to join in! such a pleasure to be involved in this — thank you kylee for creating such a fun way for this community to get involved! as a curvier woman, i wanted reader to reflect that. because... joel miller is a handsy mf and loves to just grab himself some wide hips, thick thighs and phat tits <3 but ofc, this is can be for various body types. please please please, leave your thoughts and even constructive criticism! <3 DILF NEIGHBOR JOEL, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!!

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

You release a groan of annoyance as the visual of your TV, coffee table lamp and humming of the refrigerator all flicker off into silence. The frills on your throw-blanket settle, as the ceiling fan no longer produces the small gusts of wind that have caused you to be rather chilly on this hot, humid and rainy summer night. 

When you made the courageous decision of moving across the country for a new teaching opportunity in Austin — you were never informed on the true brutality summertime unleashed onto Texas residents. More-so, you really had nothing to do but be caged up in the comfortable AC of your home. You’ve been here for roughly 14 months and the only "friends" you’ve made have been the 28 fourth graders you had the pleasure of teaching last school year. Tragic. 

Your coworkers, did not handle your arrival pleasantly. Young, beautiful, freshly-educated and determined. That’s what your grandmother referred to you as when you called her sobbing after your first week. Informing her that the seasoned teachers won’t even bat an eye at you, and when they do it’s a look of disgust. Whispering amongst one another. Like you were in middle school again, trying to befriend the popular girls. 

“I was foolish to think things could be different for me down here, so stupid of me.”

“Now listen to me, you are the most intelligent woman I know. More than anyone in this family. Bullies like that, it stems from an unknown jealousy and overbearing insecurity. Don’t let a few sour grapes ruin this outstanding career for you. Your students adore you already, and so do I. Just continue to be yourself and if that isn’t enough for them, so be it.”

Your grandmother always knew how to make you feel better. She had been instilling your own sense of confidence since you were a little girl. The only adult in your life to do so. If only her words were enough. Your coworkers just never let up. After overhearing them gossip about you during lunch break, you gave up your attempts indefinitely. 

“She really thinks she deserves a place here?”

“Look at her back rolls in that shirt…”

“She really needs to put that sandwich down.”

“Why is she so quiet? It’s freaky, honestly. No wonder she’s always alone.”

You’re not a stranger to being alone. You practically have been your entire life. Your parents never really bothered to form a genuine relationship with you, always so focused on your younger sister. She was the prettier, thinner, more impressive version of you. You have only had one best friend throughout your long 24 years on this earth. She was smarter than you and moved away from the timid small town you shared in Northern Maine, choosing an out-of-state university. So, being alone was a familiarity. You have made peace with it. But being lonely — that’s a whole other ball-park. 

The booming thwack of thunder startles you from your thoughts. Your sweet calico boy leaps from your warm lap and scurries under the dining table — tail puffed in fear. “Milo... it’s okay,” you whisper. He just gleams at you with his jet-black saucer eyes. Even you don’t believe your own words. You are not used to storms like this, and you didn’t really prepare. You read some articles online about stocking up: having plently of batteries, candles, non-perishable foods. Yet, you didn’t do any of that. 

Rubbing away the moisture from your damp upper lip — the heat inside your home already becoming unbearable. Deciding on a whim, you can head to a nearby hotel for the night. Unsure how long you will be without power and don’t wish to succumb yourself or your cat to the searing temperatures of the night. 

The rain has slowed down, as you feel the soft patter on your umbrella. Throwing your purse and water bottle in the front seat, you begin to dread unpacking all this stuff when you get to the hotel. Bags, cat litter, cage — scrutinizing yourself mentally and deciding you better fucking prepare for the next storm. 

“Where ya headin’ sweetheart?”

Your heart jumps at the deep smooth Southern voice that fills your thoughts at night. When your hands would find their way in between your quivering legs. Throughout the day. Pretty much all the time.

Joel Miller is the only person in this town that has ever filled the lonely void you can never seem to fill. When you moved to the quiet suburban street, he was the first to come greet you as you struggled to pull your mattress out of the U-Haul. Immediately lending a hand, and proceeding to lug all of your remaining boxes, furniture, miscellaneous items into your new home. 

“Pretty lady like you, shouldn’t have to lift a single finger.” He remarked when you you blushed and assured him you could handle the rest, not wanting to be a burden. Even though the sweat dripping down your back was apparent and 5 minutes prior you had no idea how you’d be able to unpack the remainder of the truck. He then assured you — there was no way in hell you were being a burden. Words that were a rarity. 

Later that afternoon, he invited you for dinner at his home. You met his lovely daughter, Sarah. Where everyone learned that you were her new school teacher. What were the odds? 

Following that, seeing Joel was frequent. From parent-teacher conferences, backyard barbecues for the neighborhood, or even small intimate dinners with Sarah at each others homes. Sarah would even spend the night at yours on occasion. When Joel had a late night at the construction site, or when she just needed some girl time. You adored that little girl, and vice versa. 

You also adored the fuck out of Joel. 

So when you looked up at his porch, finding him in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants.. your throat went dry. His tanned skin gleamed softly from the street light — little speckled freckles adorned his waist in various spots. And that darkish grey hair on his chest and fat of his lower tummy that flowed underneath his pants. Your brain fuzzy at the thought of your face pressed against it as you swallow his cock. 

But you were not a fool. Joel would never express an attraction towards you. A man like that? He deserved the perfect woman. 

“Darlin’?” He speaks again, a bit louder. Disturbing your wandering thoughts. 

“I- I was gonna head to a hotel for the night, my house is too hot already. And I don’t want Milo to be uncomfortable.” 

Joel’s eyes wander down your body as you explain — the plush jiggle of your tits in that small tank. Nearly spilling out. Slightly damp from the rain or humidity. The chub of your tummy spills slightly from your leggings. A sight that makes his cock swell unbearingly. An act that occurs more often than not when he sees you or even thinks of you for the countless minutes of his day. 

“No way. Not gonna let ya drive in this weather. Plus, most hotels nearby are gonna be overbooked. I got the generator up n’ working, got the spare room too. Your stayin’ over.” 

“No! No, Joel. I can’t.”

“N’ why not?” His hands have found his way to his hips, popping a knee out and giving you that classic dad glare. Not angry, but confused as to why you’re even protesting when he’s already decided. 

“I don’t want to intrude and I have Milo. You and Sarah are allergic.”

“Sarah left yesterday to stay with her mom in California for the rest of the summer. Besides, Milo loves me. I can handle a runny nose as long as I know the two of ya are safe.” 

To this, your stomach nearly flips inward on itself. You’ve never been alone with Joel in his home. Not for this long. The few times you’ve come over to help him with dinner before Sarah got home from soccer practice, have always been excruciating. Staring at him without worry. Watching his muscles flex through his t-shirts. Big hands chopping vegetables and plating food. His hand lightly touching your waist when scooting by. 

There’s no possible way you can survive a night in Joel’s home. 

But, he’s already grabbing his umbrella and walking over to you. He grabs your stuff from the car and tells you to go grab Milo. So, you do.

Joel slips on a t-shirt after he put your stuff in the spare room, disappointedly enough. You nearly told him to keep it off, but held your tongue. You made yourself comfortable at the island barstool as you typed up some early lesson plans, Milo at your feet. 

He patters over to Joel who is now leaning against the counter, brushing against his leg. He then leaps onto the granite and purrs against Joel’s arm. 

“Psst! Milo get do-“ you beg, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. 

“S’ okay, sweetheart. He’s not botherin’ me,” Joel attempts to settle your nerves. Petting Milo’s soft fur and scratching under his chin, that special spot all cats love. “Can I get you anythin’ to drink?” He nods towards the coffee he’s brewing. 

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” You beam at him. Joel’s heart skips a beat every time your cheeks puff up ever so slightly when you smile at him. It’s something he swears is the most endearing thing about you. Of course, he’s only ever shared that with his daughter. Who begs her father to just take her favorite teacher on a date already. 

Joel grabs some sugar and oat milk from the fridge, your favorite. He learned from the few breakfasts you guys had shared. A bit of sugar and a nice gulp of milk softens the dark roast color in the mug, he slides it over to you as he grabs his plain black coffee. 

“You remembered!” You giggle slightly at the Number 1 Dad title that adorns the mug, taking a sip. You moan at the taste, exactly how you like it. 

“Of course I did, darlin’.” You almost hate how easily those pet names roll of his tongue. You summed it up as his southern hospitality, figured he calls any woman those special names. “So, you ready for this new school year?”

An icky feeling settles in your stomach. The thought of returning to the painful and toxic work environment you can only escape when you’re with your students.

“Not without my Sarah girl,” you swiftly change the subject towards the one person he can talk hours about.

He smiles proudly at her name. 

“Ya know, she still all mad that you wouldn’t flunk her so she could have another year with ya.” Both your laughs quickly fill the empty house. 

“Well, even if I tried to, that girl is too smart for her own good. She should skip a grade in my opinion.” You state, and you’re truthful at that. Sarah Miller is as intelligent as she is quick-witted. 

“Yeah, she gets it from me.” At that you roll your eyes playfully. Typing something up before closing your computer and taking another sip of coffee. “Although I love boastin’ over her, I guess I meant are you excited to go back? They treat ya good there?” 

Joel watches the color drain from your soft skin. Realizing he touched somewhere that might be too personal. Too raw. “M’ sorry sweetheart, shouldn’t have asked.”

“No- no uh, you’re fine. Um, honestly? No. I’m not excited. The staff there aren’t exactly the kindest bunch.” You confess, slight unease crawling over you. 

Joel’s eyes scrunch in confusion. Mind blank on how the kindest soul he knows, could be surrounded by complete opposite. “Whatcha mean?”

You sigh letting the anxiousness settle a bit before speaking again, “they hate me. I don’t even know why, really? I have tried my hardest to get them to accept me but nothing seems to work. Whether it’s jabs at my appearance, teaching style, they’re never satisfied.” Your eyes are burning slightly, haven’t confessed this burden you constantly carry to anyone. “If it wasn’t for your daughter and my class, and… you.. well, I think I wouldn’t have made it through. I try to be strong, I try to be everything that people expect from me but it’s just so hard, Joel.” At that, the fat tears begin to stream down your face.

Joel was frozen in shock. Or maybe anger. Protectiveness. He wanted to hurt the people who made you feel like this. The least deserving of any pain. He sets his mug down and snatches you in his embrace. Holding your head with his hand, stroking your back with the other. He lets you sob almost uncontrollably into his firm chest. 

“I just hate being so alone.” You whisper, clutching onto him. You can’t even be embarrassed anymore, you’re so overthrown by his scent, his comfort. Comfort you’ve not felt in so so long. 

Joel kisses your temple softly, "promise you're not alone, sweet girl." He nudges your head to look up at his own sorrowful expression. His thumb running over your full lips, a bit swollen from your teeth biting down on them in an attempt to muffle your sobs. "So beautiful." He murmurs as he leans down to place a kiss on your left cheek, his lips skim over yours before he places another on your right.

Joel just barely hears the whimper from the back of your throat when that feather light skim happened. He leans back half an inch, staring into your glossy eyes. "Tell me not to, and I'll let you go upstairs and get some rest. Tell me, sweetheart."

It feels like a whole minute passes by. The soft patter of the rain, the smell of coffee beans from each others breath, the same slow breathing that overwhelms the little space between you both.

Desperation.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, "don't let me go upstairs, Joel."

Joel smashes his mouth into yours, his guttural groan flying into your soft whimpers. The softness Joel expressed a moment ago is long gone. This kiss is messy, teeth-clanking, tongue inside your mouth. Like he wants to devour you from the outside in. He releases your lip with a pop.

He threads his thick fingers through the base of your hair and yanks it back gently, tongue on your neck. Biting the skin there. "You're so soft, baby. Just need me to mark ya up, is that right?"

You nod as hard as you can despite his harsh grip on your locks.

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl. Let me know what you're thinkin'."

"Everything you do is okay. I want more. I need it all. Please."

"Oh baby, cm'ere," he wraps your lavish thighs around his waist and hoists you into his arms. Easily. Like you're just the most delicate thing he's ever held.

As he walks to his bedroom, you smile into his neck. Arms wrapped over his shoulders, hand rubbing ever so softly at his greying curls. You bite at the skin under his ear and he gives your ass a huge squeeze. Groaning at how his big hands barely hold all the meat there. He couldn't wait to touch and gnaw at this body he loved.

At the foot of his bed, he taps your leg as if telling you to get down. You stand in front of his massive overbearing figure, staring up at him lustfully. You grab the bottom of your compression tank top and pull it over your head, revealing your unsupported chest. Your heavy tits fall a bit.

"My god," Joel falls to his knees in front of you, face nearly level with your pebbled nipples. Both his hands grab a fistful of each, rolling them in his palm. Your sweet noises fill the room and he swears he might've just came in his pajama pants right there. He takes his teeth and bite at the fat above your leggings, licking and sucking at a sensitive part of you. Literally and figuratively.

Joel abandons your chest to yank your leggings and panties down in one move, coming face-to-face with your prickly oozing pussy. He can't restrain himself much longer, spinning you around he pushes you down into his mattress.

He spreads your ass open with both hands, the chub of your lips open ever so slightly as the slick between them strings together.

"Perfect cunt." That's when you feel the chill of liquid spat right onto your puckered hole, dripping down to your clit. He leans in, tongue catching the tangy mixture of your slick and his saliva, right on your throbbing clit.

You screech into the sheets, so turned on from his actions. As he licks up to dip his tongue into your hole, one hand that's holding you open sneaks up your back, to your neck and yanks your head up.

"Nu-uh, let me hear you, baby girl." He demands as he pauses to throw his shirt off as fast as possible — not wanting to leave your cunt for too long without the warmth of his mouth.

He sloppily makes out with your cunt as it clenches and unclenches under his tongue, his beard prickling at your skin. Like he wants your scent all over him for as long as possible.

"Ohh daddy, more more," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have him as deep as possible.

Joel stops as he processes your choice of title. "What was that, darlin'?"

You freeze at his serious tone. Just now realizing what you've called the man. "Oh my god, I'm s-" Joel grabs your wrist and pins it against your lower back — thick middle and ring finger hooking into you with no warning. Your wetness aiding in the rapid slide of them.

He spits on your puckered hole again and abandons your wrist to land a harsh smack against your ass.

"Only dirty girls say that word, baby. Are you daddy's dirty girl?" He edges you on as he spanks you again on the opposite side. Hard. Unsparing. A side of Joel you've never seen. And oh, does it make you feel that coil tightening within you.

"Mmmm yes yes 'm your dirty girl, daddy!" You groan loudly, eyes swelling with fresh tears. But not tears of pain from earlier, pleasure.

Joel's fingers fuck into you harder, thumb now rubbing at your clit as he leans forward to prod his tongue at your asshole. "Cum for me, my nasty sweet girl. Drench my face. Let me taste you even more." He halts his fingers knuckle deep, hooked inside your cunt as he presses into that spot on repeat. Like he's stroking it out of you.

That's all it takes for you to silently scream as you squirt all over his lower beard covered face and your thick inner thighs, that nearly squish his head from how hard you're coming. Joel just keeps himself situated, never letting up. Allowing you to completely let go and rut back into him, telling him you need more.

"Thaaat's it, my good fuckin' girl.” He praises as he kisses your cunt and ass, he leans over your face capturing your lips in a kiss so messy and depraved. “Open that mouth.” Spitting roughly onto your tongue with a groan as you taste your sweetness that he knows he will forever be addicted to. No chance of recovery.

He ruts his thick bulge into your ass as you whine needly.

"Really want you to fuck my face, now." You beg, hand reaching down to grope him through his loose pjs.

"Mmmmm," he murmurs as his hips keep rutting into you. "Tonight is about you, baby. M' gonna stuff your tight cunt so fuckin' deep you'll feel it in your throat, don't worry." And with that promise, he releases himself, throbbing cock slapping against his lower tummy. You flip onto your back just to see it and your eyes widen at the sight before you.

You always knew it was huge just from perception, but god. It's thicker than your wrist, and looks like it would prod into your cervix. Painful even. Joel senses the worry on your face as he pushes your legs back against your chest. Admiring the way your stomach folds into itself, soft roll after roll. And the thickness of your inner thighs lays heavy. He just wants to get down and feast on you again but he might die if he doesn't feel you wrapped around him.

"You're in charge here, sweetheart. Understood?" He explains as he rubs his fat cock head up and down your swollen slit — notching on your opening with every downward stroke.

You nod slowly, peeking down at the monster between your legs once more. He squeezes your ankle, subtly reminding you to vocalize.

"Yes daddy, I understand."

"Good." And with that, he pushes into your fluttering hole. Your eyes roll back immediately, head thumping onto the soft duvet. He pushes in deeper, barely halfway in and he sees your feet and eyes scrunch a bit. It almost feels like he could rip you apart. Maybe it's because you haven't been fucked in a hot minute — or maybe it's just that Joel is so fucking hung. More than any guy you've slept with.

“Deep breath for me, sweetheart.” He soothes you, as soon as he sees your chest fall — he slams the rest of the way in. Hips flush with the back of your thighs. Cock fully sheathed in your warm soaked cunt. Heavy brimming balls pressed against your little puckered hole. “You feel so damn good. Dripping for me.” Joel’s eyes close at the feeling of you hugging him so tight. He suddenly forgets the feeling of any other woman he’s pleased. Utterly devoted to you from here on out.

When he pulls out all the way to his fat tip — it notches on your opening. Like he has to put in that extra effort to fully remove himself from you. But he doesn’t, and starts fucking into you fully. Never half way, never pulling completely out.. but always making sure he reaches the end of you.

“Da- daddy oh, harder please.” You plead, squeezing his forearm at the overwhelming feel of him nudging your cervix with every thrust.

That confirmation of pleasure is all Joel needs to push your legs back even more — ankles by your head — and began a brutal relentless pace. Grabbing a fistful of your jiggling tit and messy hair, he pulls your head up so you can watch how he ruins you for anyone else.

“Ya see that, see how swollen your gettin’ already?” Joel questions as he holds your head perfectly to observe the slight lifted pudge on your tummy. Paired with the way his coarse hair rubs against your swelled clit — it’s a drool worthy sight.

“Cus’ your so big, Joel.” You sigh, eyes fluttering from the primal force he’s using on your body.

A smug grin flicks across his face at the view. Mind consumed by the most perfect woman. Eyebrows turning inward, the little lines between them deepening as you try to comprehend all the emotions in this moment. Removing his hand from your head, he finds your clit and swipes it upward. Over and over. Leaning down, he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as humanely possible. Tongue flicking the pebbled area, coercing your orgasm from you. “Cum with me, baby.” His muffled command shoots straight to your filled core.

As he feels you spasm around his thickness, he stills balls deep. “There it is, baby…” Spilling his cum inside your warmth. Plugging you, keeping you full of him. Joel relaxes his body against yours, finding your mouth to kiss you gently. Sweaty foreheads against one another. Joel goes to push off of you, his comforting body heat about to be ripped away.

"No! Wanna feel you longer, please."

Your protest makes Joel's heart surge. "Of course, sweet girl." Wrapping his large arms around you, he flips you both so that your soft plush body lays above him. The new angle makes his spent cock nudge a bit deeper, you both moan at the faint squelch of his cum overflowing your cunt. "You're so perfect," he mutters.

Smiling into his full chest, you leave a swift kiss. "So are you. Thank you for this. For.. everything."

Joel's hands finds your back as he begins gentle strokes onto your supple skin, his head resting atop your own. "Thank you, darlin'. I want you to understand something, you might just be the finest thing that ever happened to Sarah and I. Y'know, she didn't really want to see her mom. Never had the best relationship with her. She just wanted to spend the remainder of the summer havin' ya over everyday to swim and all. That girl admires you more than anyone."

Eyes foggy, you shift to gaze up at him. "And what does her father think?"

Joel pauses briefly, rich brown orbs beaming into yours. "Think she's damn right. She didn't want me to tell you this, but she left so I could have some alone time with you — take ya out. Scolded me sayin' by the time she's back, we better be together." He laughs at the thought, you join him. Picturing that 4'9 ball of fire lecturing her father on the rules of dating.

"So, you're asking me out Miller?" You question with a heavy hopeful heart.

"Should've done it forever ago, darlin'." He confesses, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

And with that, you place your head back onto the warm chest of the man you've craved your entire life. Realizing, ever since that day where he first greeted you with that sultry gentleman voice — you were never truly alone.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[gingerswagfreckles]

It's crazy because this isn't the first time this has happened this year but no one ever talks about it no one ever cares. A week or two ago a woman was murdered by having her throat slit in front of her two kids by a guy who screamed "free Palestine" and all the comments on the article were theorizing that it was a false flag attack actually organized by The Jews. A few weeks before that a synagogue was bombed in France by a guy who literally wrapped himself in a Palestine flag as he did it and every single news organization cropped the images so you couldn't see the flag. Several Jewish women have been raped in France "for Palestine" and several other Jews in the country murdered. Some Jews were kidnapped in Australia by "activists." In the US an elderly Jewish man was murdered by protesters months and months ago and absolutely no mainstream news reported on it. A plane in Russia was stormed by a mob looking to find Jews and kill them because they mistakenly thought the plane was landing from Israel. A few days ago in NYC several Jewish men were stabbed in the span of a couple of hours in separate incidents by people screaming "free Palestine" and they're still hospitalized. A terrorist convicted of bombing a synagogue in 1980 and killing four Jews in France is now teaching a social justice class at a Canadian University. There was a crowd chanting "Heil Hitler" at the Israeli athletes at the Olympics while waving Palesfine flags. Students at Columbia University made a chain to block Jewish students from attending their classes. They cornered them in a library and chanted "globalize the intifada." Students at UCLA made their Jewish classmates wear badges to identify which had passed their Good Jew test and could be allowed to pass their mob to attend class. Hate crime numbers around the world have gone up by thousands of percentile points and the increase has been driven almost entirely by LEFTISTS and their crazy insistence that the full blown murder of Jews for being Jewish by terrorist organizations "isn't antisemitism" but is in fact a form of "resistance." Against the Jews who secretly control the world. This has been happening for months and months and months and nobody cares and you all just gaslight Jews and tell us we are being hysterical and this is all our fault anyway and now it's normal again to have full blown pogroms in every country in the world where mobs chase down people screaming "Jew! Jew!" to try to kill them and you are STILL. ALL. JUSTIFYING IT. You guys have become literal full blown Nazis and I am not exaggerating in the slightest. Nazism has been normalized again and it hasn't been normalized by the right, it has been normalized by the left through your desperate desire to roleplay a Huger Games type revolution against a tiny minority group who can't hurt you back.