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pucksandpower · 7 months

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Hi hi. Hope your taking care of yourself. I just want to ask on the grid kids series can i request the drivers being mistaken as grid baby's parents... like shes out with them where people dont know who they are and they get mistaken for being her parents. (you can choose any two drivers if u wanna write it)

Grid Kids: Mistaken Identities

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids learn that sometimes seeing two men with a baby can make people draw the wrong conclusions

Series Masterlist

Max and Charles: Disney Princes

“Why do I feel like we’ve bitten off more than we can chew?” Charles groans, adjusting the collar of his prince costume as they step into the magical world of Tokyo Disneyland.

Max smirks, tugging at his own princely garb. “Because you were easily swayed by a toddler. But why did I let the two of you drag me into this too?”

Your daughter skips ahead, twirling in her Cinderella dress, utterly delighted. “Princess!” She chirps, pointing to herself, and then at them, “Princes!”

Charles laughs, ruffling her hair. “Yes, yes, but remember, you owe me big time.”

Suddenly, a small horde of children swarm around Charles, their eyes wide with awe. “Prince Charming!” One of them squeals, reaching out to touch the hem of his outfit.

Max can’t help but chuckle. “Look at you, a hit with the kiddos already.”

Charles, looking mildly panicked but trying to keep his composure, kneels down, offering his best princely smile. “Hello, little ones. Are you enjoying your day at the castle?”

While Charles is surrounded, a couple approaches Max, eyes flickering between him, Charles, and your daughter. “You three make such a cute family! How long have you and your husband been together?”

Max chokes on his spit. “Oh, no, we’re not — I mean, he’s not — we’re her brothers, not fathers. And we’re definitely not together.”

The woman’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “Oh! I’m so sorry. My mistake.”

Charles, now free from the throng of kids, joins in, “It’s alright. Happens a lot more than you would think.” He winks at your daughter, “This princess has a way of wrapping everyone around her finger so I can see the confusion.”

Max and Charles immerse themselves in the Disneyland experience, fully embracing their roles as makeshift royalty. They take pictures, go on rides, and even join your daughter for a tea party at Cinderella’s Royal Table.

While leaving, a staff member waves, “Goodbye, Prince Charming!”

Charles raises an eyebrow, “Which one?”

Max smirks, “Clearly, they meant me.”

Your daughter grins cheekily. “Both Princes. My Princes.”

Mick and Lance: Horsing Around

“Why is she covered in hay?” Lance looks down at your giggling daughter who has a spot of dirt on her nose and straw in her hair.

Mick picks her up, attempting to brush it off without much success. “Because someone wanted to roll around with the bunnies.”

She claps her hands together. “Bunny soft! And pony! I want pony!”

A farmer passing by overhears their conversation, a knowing smile on his face. “That's how it starts, you know?” He nods towards Mick and Lance, “My daughter wanted just one pony and now look around you — turned into this whole farm.” He chuckles, looking at your daughter with fondness, “Seems history is repeating with your little one. She’s clearly got her daddies wrapped around her finger already.”

Mick chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “Oh, we’re not her dads. We’re her brothers. Just trying to spoil her a bit while we can.”

The farmer looks slightly surprised but grins, “Ah, my bad! You looked so domestic and I assumed. But a word of advice from someone who’s been through it … those little eyes? They’ll have a whole farm following you home if you’re not careful."

Lance nods in agreement, “She gets her charm from our mom.”

Your daughter, however, is undeterred. “Pony! Please, please, pony!”

Lance tries to be stern, “I don’t think Mom and Dad will let us get a pony.”

But her big eyes and pout should be illegal.

They cave instantly. “Okay, okay! We’ll see what we can do,” Mick promises.

As they head home, Mick turns to Lance, “You realize we can’t actually get her a pony, right?”

But Lance just smirks. “Watch me.”

***

Later that evening, you’re sipping tea when a rather unexpected sound catches your attention.

Neighhh.

You rush to the window, eyes widening at the sight in front of you.

Lance meets your eyes sheepishly, “So ... we might’ve made a tiny impulsive decision ...”

Mick is holding a bedazzled harness belonging to the animal in question, “Tiny? It’s not exactly a chihuahua.”

Your daughter rushes to you, grinning from ear to ear. “Look, Mommy! Pony!”

You sigh deeply, “I leave you two in charge for a few hours and apparently we now own a pony?”

Mick shrugs, “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Lance adds, “We just couldn’t say no to her!”

You laugh, pulling them both into a hug with your daughter sandwiched between. “You boys are impossible. When did you become such softies?”

“Just following in your footsteps,” Mick smirks. “You know, spoiling the ones we love."

Lance nods, “Guess it runs in the family.”

Lando and George: Busy Bees

“Is she ready?” Lando asks while leaning over to check his face paint in the mirror.

George adjusts his fake antennae headband. “I still can’t believe you convinced me to wear this.”

Your daughter runs in from behind them, flapping her tiny bee wings with a big smile on her face. “Bzzz! Bzzz!”

Lando laughs, “Look at you, the cutest little bee in the hive!”

He then whispers to George, “At least we match.”

George groans, “Yeah but did we really have to be flowers? It’s bad enough that she’s got me trick-or-treating for the first time in twenty years.”

As they set out, the trio attracts many admiring glances, especially when your daughter toddles up to houses, holding out her little bucket and adorably attempting a “Trick or treat!”

At one house, an older lady opens the door, gasping with delight. “Oh my! What a beautiful little family! You and your husband have done such a wonderful job. Your daughter’s costume is simply adorable!”

George’s cheeks flush under his floral face paint, “Oh, uh, we’re not a couple. We’re her brothers!”

Lando waves his hands, “Yeah! No couple here, just brothers. He’s too annoying to date anyway.”

The lady looks slightly taken aback but quickly recovers. “Oh, my apologies! It’s just so rare to see two young dads out and about. Anyways, here you go, little bumblebee.” She drops a handful of candy into your daughter’s bucket.

The night continues with more misidentifications, George and Lando taking it in stride but also bickering about who gives off more of a dad vibe.

George pokes Lando, “I told you, dressing as matching flowers makes it look like we’re together.”

Lando rolls his eyes, “You’re just embarrassed because Mrs. Thompson from three houses down thought we were a couple.”

George grins, “Well, maybe if someone didn’t m insist on holding my hand to guide me ...”

Lando splutters, “That was to stop you from tripping over a pumpkin in the dark! Besides, look, she’s having the time of her life.”

Your daughter just continues her “bzzing,” happily collecting candies and compliments.

When they return home, a mountain of treats in tow, your daughter shows off her loot with pride.

Sebastian greets them at the door, laughing as he sees their costumes. “Looking good there!”

George mumbles, “At least we’re on brand.”

Lando grins, “Exactly! Team Bee for the win!”

Your daughter, energy not even slightly dimmed, runs up and hugs Sebastian, “Daddy! Bzzz!”

Sebastian chuckles, “My little bee. Did you have fun with your brothers?”

She nods vigorously, “Bzzz!”

You shake your head in amusement. “Alright, my buzzing bee, time for bed. And you two,” you point at George and Lando, “thanks for being such good sports. Even if you did look ridiculous.”

George and Lando are already on their way to raid your vanity for makeup wipes. “Anything for our little bee,” Lando says with a wink.

The Parents and the “Parents”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, “So, Y/N, Seb ... you won’t believe how many times Max and I have been mistaken for a couple when we’re out and about.”

“Yeah,” Max chimes in, “apparently we give off strong young dads in love vibes.”

Lance sighs dramatically, “Don’t even get me started! Mick and I took her to the park a few days ago and this lady actually asked how long we’ve been married and when we adopted her.”

Mick nods, “She even recommended a couples’ yoga class for us. Said it helped her and her wife reconnect for personal time during parenthood.”

Lando, trying to stifle a giggle, pipes up, “George and I were given a book called The Ultimate Guide for Gay Dads by our new neighbor. She said it really helped her son and his husband.”

George gestures wildly, “We even got invited to the local dads’ weekly barbecue. I think we’re honorary members now.”

You burst out laughing, “Oh my god, I can’t breathe! This is priceless.”

Sebastian chuckles, “I think it’s sweet that our daughter has so many loving dads. We’re setting a new norm here.”

Max grins, “I always knew I had a paternal side.”

Charles nudges him, “More like you just can’t bring yourself to say no to her.”

Lance admits, “That’s true. Is this a good time to apologize for the pony in your backyard again?”

Everyone turns to look at Mick, who shrugs, “She has the best puppy eyes, okay?”

“It’s a gift really,” George agrees. “I tried to do the same face to Lando to get the last slice of pizza but all he did was laugh at me.”

Lando retorts, “That’s because your puppy eyes looked more like you were constipated.”

Suddenly, the laughter is interrupted by a small voice. Your daughter toddles into the room, holding a toy race car in one hand and a doll in the other. “Why do you all have funny faces?” She asks, her innocent eyes widening.

Sebastian picks her up and sits her on his knee, “Well, little racer, we were just talking about how sometimes people think that your brothers are your dads.”

She scrunches her face in confusion, “But that’s silly! They’re still your babies too. How can they be dads?”

You laugh, “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. They definitely still act like children sometimes.”

The six indignant whines of “we do not” you get in return don’t really do much to help their case.

But you love your kids anyway. All seven of them.

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nvuy · 16 days

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Boothill is a “your pleasure is my pleasure” kind of guy do u agree 🎤

mdni. im snatching the mic. i got carried away ty anon for giving me an excuse to ramble about this loser.

he takes pleasing you very seriously. this is serious business. it’s like his day job.

he’s half-convinced he was given a second life just to cross paths with you, so once he’s got you, he’s not letting you go. not for a while, at least. he’s stuck to your hip like glue. wherever you go, he’s most likely right next to you.

he’s always making sure you’re catered to first.

it’s the same in bed.

he’s extremely touch starved, so while he’s got his hand between your legs, he’s also busied himself nuzzling his cheek to yours to feel you helplessly panting against his skin. or, his ear is resting against your heart. whatever works for him in the moment.

he’s absolutely smitten with how warm you get. he’s always, always, pressing himself against you one way or another. just touch all over his face, please and thank you.

he’s all for kisses too. sometimes, when he’s having a bit too much fun, he’ll get all mushy and gross. not that he already isn’t, but it somehow gets worse.

he’ll bite too. not enough to make you bleed, but enough to leave an angry mark for the next few days.

actually, he just nips you all the time. it’s a weird thing he does. don’t point fingers in his face. he’ll try eating them. he’s very strange in that way. sometimes you can be gesturing at nothing while you talk, and if your fingers get too close to his face, he’s trying to nip at them like a teething puppy. you got used to it.

great tongue too. bonus points because it’s actually real. he works his magic with it, but only after you beg enough. you gotta work to get your hands on the merchandise. his mechanics are expensive, so play nice.

if we’re getting into unserious business, the robocock is great fun. it’s got smooth ridges and it’s cold. probably customisable, too. it’s definitely possible, but whether he’s gonna wander up to some poor mechanic and ask them to add some special features… well.

either way, your pleasure is always his priority. his hobbies consist of biting every single exposed expanse of your skin and exploring new ways to make you squirm.

it’s bad enough you having to deal with this lump of steel and scrap—frankly, he doesn’t even understand what’s so appealing about it—but if you enjoy bouncing on his lap, go ahead. do it all night for all he cares. as long as you have that pretty dizzy smile on your face by the end of it all. it makes him melt into a puddle of liquid metal knowing how good he makes you feel.

he’s also VERY susceptible to puppy eyes. they’re your greatest asset, and his biggest weakness.

you figured that out after you pleaded with him to put on these clothes you bought him (and, yep. these clothes have just as many cut outs as his usual attire). you can also use them if you want to do his hair. please convince him to wear it in a high ponytail more. he has such a nice face, and it also stops his neck from overheating. those poor fans need a vacation.

it takes some convincing, especially when you show him the hair tie is actually a red sparkly ribbon. you’re going to ruin his tough guy persona. but he’ll drop anything for you, so he’ll comply. on the condition that you give him smooches afterwards. it’s also an excuse for him to indulge in how your fingers feel against his scalp.

puppy eyes, crying, begging, whatever, usually get people he’s apprehended nowhere. he doesn’t care for theatrics. not at all. a criminal is a criminal at the end of the day.

but you? aww, how can he say no to your angel eyes? wanna fuck his face? you didn’t even have to ask! just watch the teeth. and feel free to pull his hair. wanna ride him until he short circuits? sure! if you can keep up. he’s all yours.

and when you’re done, his aftercare consists of coddling and pinching your cheeks. he’ll prattle on about nothing. the subject will change to gushing over how pretty you look in his bed, to the weather tomorrow, to how he misses the taste of spaghetti. he’ll even kiss all over the marks he’s left on you. probably kicks his feet too.

he’s still so energetic it’s mind-baffling. he’s so casual about it too, acting as if he didn’t beg for you to cum on his face just ten minutes ago.

but that’s robot stamina for you. or maybe it’s just a boothill thing. who knows?

after a while he’ll calm down. i still haven't decided if he can sleep, but once you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll lay next to you and draw patterns on the nape of your neck with his fingers.

#$. after hours #$. love mail #$. anon #$. mindless prattling #boothill x reader #hsr boothill x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #boothill hsr #hsr x you #boothill

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pokechbi · 9 months

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🎀I Can Treat You Better Than He Ever Can, Love🎀

Simon Ghost Riley x fem Reader!

NSFW, MDNI !!!

Fem anatomy used

WC: 4.9K

As always, asks are open and every single interaction is so so greatly appreciated! I love u all 🫶

Enjoy loves 💗💗 !!!

You sat in the mess hall, picking at your lunch, your appetite gone for the day. You stared ahead at Konig, sat two tables in front of you. You also stared at the brunette woman sitting across from him, giggling like a fucking schoolgirl at his every word. You watched, your head searing with green, slimy jealousy as she reached over and grazed her fingers over his. Bitch. You muttered quietly, putting the lid on the lunch you had brought from home.

"Someone's got their knickers in a twist." The Brit came from behind you, his steps quieted as always. He sat across from you, blocking your view of the Austrian beast you had your heart set on. You groaned, slumping over in your seat. "What's on your mind, mate" He asks. You look up at him. His gaze scanned your face, landing on your eyes, looking between them. You shifted in nervousness, fiddling with the sleeve of your turtleneck. He was boring a hole into your skin, his eyes dark and strong. You wouldn't hesitate to obey him like a dog when he stared at you like that. But he wasn't the one you had your heart set on. At least not anymore.

Months ago, you and Simon found yourselves alone in a conference room, and you were hell bent on releasing the sexual tension that had managed to build between you both for weeks. He stood towering over you, eyes sliding down your body and undressing you with his eyes. You approached him hastily, running your hands up and down his face, slowly slipping your fingers under the hem of his balaclava. He softly grabbed your hands, lowering your arms back to your sides. You looked at him confused. "I...can't, love." He spoke, his voice close to a whisper. Your heart dropped into your stomach as he said this, your breathing growing strained. You felt the tightening of your throat, tears threatening to well. "I'm your Lieutenant. This won't end well for either of us. You know that." He said gently, hands still wrapped around yours. You parted your lips to speak, your bottom lip quivering with your sadness, turned to pure anger. "So...you led me on?" You asked him. His eyes go wide, instantly shaking his head. " What? No, I didn't lead you on. I never promised anything between us." He scoffed, pointing a gloved finger in your face. "Did you think that our little moments meant that I'd risk my entire career for you?" You looked at him stunned, and began backing away slowly, nodding your head in disbelief. He runs his hands over his face, sighing frustratedly. "Listen...I'm sorry. I didn't mea-" "Save it, Simon. Forget this ever happened. That we ever happened." You spat, throwing the door open and slipping yourself through it. He watched painfully as you left, the sting of rejection stabbing your core.

The memory jabbed at you as he looked at you, the lustful look in his eyes that night slithering its way into your head. You push the thought away. You and Simon agreed to forget it happened, to stay as friends. You didn’t want to raise suspicion to any of the higher-ups, so you carried on like normal. It took weeks, months to feel like you were over him. You dreaded seeing him everyday, avoiding him on missions and around base like the plague. But somehow, he managed to work his way back into your life as if nothing happened. You decided it couldn’t be that bad for you, if anything it’d help you get over him and see him as a friend and nothing more. At least, you did. "Nothing's wrong, Simon. I'm fine." You reply, looking up to meet his eyes again. "Doesn't look like nothin' ". He chuckles. “The way you’re starin’ at Jessie like you wanna curb stomp the poor lass” He says smugly. Jessie. You scoff, your cheeks burning red with irritation. “Does everyone on this base know her fucking name?” You stand to your feet, grabbing your bag and not bothering to trash the container with your untouched lunch. You make your way out of the entrance to the mess hall, your blood boiling with jealousy. What did she have that you didn’t? You roll your eyes, walking hastily to the elevator. You needed to get outside, breathe some air. You felt suffocated in that building, like every single person there was secretly out to get you, knowing your deepest and darkest secrets and hell bent on using them against you. You’d been having shit luck on the field, distracted by the two damning men who plagued your mind. You wanted Konig. Needed him. And while you were friendly while he was stationed on the base, he showed no signs of wanting anything more. And that broke you, making you want to rip the hair right out of your head. First Simon, now him. You couldn’t catch a break.

As you approached the elevator, you felt a strong hand grab your wrist, holding you in place. Without turning around, you could already tell who it was. The smell of his musky, warm cologne wafted up your nose, triggering the memories you had tried so hard to purge from your head. You turn slowly to meet his gaze, the rough pads of his gloves chafing the skin of your wrists. You twist your arm, trying to wring it out of his grip. “Simon, let me go. I’m not in the fucking mood for this.” You spat, slapping his hand. He very easily overpowered you, and he knew that. He stood there, not budging as his death grip grew stronger. “You’re hurting me, Simon.” You cry, feeling the suppressed emotions and frustrations starting to simmer as they threaten to wreak havoc on you. He lessens his grip, but he steps closer to you, now hovering over your face. You turn your face away from him, staring at the floor as you feel his breath heat your skin. “You don’t need to be jealous of her, you know. Konig is nothing special.” He says smugly, disregarding the pure anger written on your features. "He's a door opener. A useless fuckin' wannabe sniper. Why are you so broken up over 'im?" You pause at his words. Did he really need to kick you while you were down?

You glare at him, trying to free yourself from his grasp once more. He finally lets you go, and you waste no time in pressing the elevator button. You don’t respond to him, hoping that if you ignored him he might take a hint and leave you alone. As you listen to the elevator making its way to your floor, you feel Simon step closer and closer behind you. “Don’t ignore me. You can talk to me.” He says, his voice a low grumble. You stand your ground, pursing your lips and scoffing at him. He sighs behind you. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You step inside, pressing the button to the ground floor. You raise your head to meet his gaze, and he wastes no time in stepping into the elevator with you before you can close the door on him. “Come on. Stop being so stubborn. Why won’t you-”

“Simon, the last time I confided in you about my feelings, you rejected me and led me to believe you cared when you couldn’t have given less of a shit about them. And now you want to act like you give a fuck about what I feel? Please, spare me.” You say sarcastically, shaking your head at him. He doesn’t break his gaze, but instead keeps his eyes on you, running them over your face. For a split second, his eyes land on your lips. You feel your heart flutter as you notice it, being that you wouldn’t have caught it if you blinked. You curse him in your head, knowing this would lead nowhere good. He was leading you on again, giving you false hope. He was conjuring old feelings that you were sure were buried deep in you. Sure, the memories manage to seep through once in a while, but ultimately - he had you whipped- and he knew that. The way you wanted to drop to your knees and let him degrade you, wishing he’d slam you up against this wall and take you right in this elevator…all because he looked at your lips. You needed to get a hold of your feelings, and fast. You were sure you would lose control if he tried anything, and it made you feel less than. You lacked self control when it came to your feelings, leading you to be hurt many times. You lacked self control especially when it came to Simon.

“Love…I..” He steps closer to you, and by God’s will, the elevator doors slid open. You rushed out, grabbing your car keys from your bag and speed walked out of the door and to your car. Your eyes stung against the winter air, flushing your cheeks. You fumbled with the keys, pressing the button to unlock the door before you reached it. The sun had begun to set, rays of sunlight beaming over your face. As you reached your car, you heard him approach behind you. You groaned, turning to face him. You glared at him, his eyes pleading with you to listen to what he had to say. Your head was spinning, not knowing what you wanted more: For him to leave you alone, or take you right there, fucking you so deep you could feel him in your guts. You stood there, watching him in silence. The wind picked up, pushing your hair into your face. He stepped forward, his face hovering dangerously close to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, not knowing how to react. Your mind constantly fought between pushing him off, telling him to fuck off and to quit these games of his, or just submitting to his every touch and letting the thoughts of resisting die in your head. “Please, just listen to me.” He says, running his hands up your arms. You gently shy away from his touch, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Simon. You’ve said enough already.” You say, a slight tremor in your voice from adrenaline. You didn’t know why he was doing this, complicating the feelings for him that you had worked so hard to store away. Why was he doing this? Now, of all times, when you found yourself remotely over him and wanted someone else.

“You’re right. I’ve said enough. You’re completely right about that.” He reaches up, brushing your hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. The rough material of his gloves scrape your cheek. You wanted them off, his bare fingers touching you instead. “You know what they say, darling. Actions speak louder than words.” He continues, slipping his fingers to the back of your head, a handful of hair entangling his hand. With his free hand, he slowly reaches up to his face, swiftly lifting the balaclava over his lips. You had never seen his face before, and it seemed like your world stopped spinning at the slight glimpse of his strong jaw. A discolored scar ran up his upper lip, ending right on top of his lip line. He parted his lips, his breath now hot on your face. Your breathing trembled as he dipped his head forward, clashing his mouth with yours. You whine into the kiss, your knees weakening under you. His grip tightens on your hair, his body pushing you into the back door of your car. You fumble with the handle, not breaking the kiss as his hand lands on your ass, roughly squeezing it through your pants. You get the car door open, and Simon groans into the kiss as he pushes you inside. You break the kiss, sliding into the backseat as he lies you down on the seat. He hovers over your face as you lie back on the seat, reaching behind him and slamming the car door. He wraps his hand around your throat, beckoning you to sit up with him. He kisses you again, aggressively shoving his tongue in your mouth, groaning into you. The taste of him on your lips was enough to drive you absolutely feral, wanting more of his taste on your lips. He pulls you onto his lap, squeezing your hips as you straddle him. You moan softly as you grind your hips against his, the fabric barrier frustrating you and causing a wetness to pool between your thighs. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to diminish the very thing that held him back from being inside you already. You reached down, palming at his growing erection. He groaned into your mouth, throwing his head back at your touch. “I need you, love…don’t know how fucking long I’ve needed you.” He breathes, his grip on your hips growing stronger.

“Please…Simon. J-just fuck me already.” You moan softly, raising your hand to claw at the collar of his shirt. He wastes no time in ripping it off like it was on fire, throwing it onto the car floor. He sits up, leaning you backwards as he undoes his belt. His jeans were uncomfortably tight around his crotch at this point in time, his shaft painfully pressed against his balls. He groans as he slides his jeans down to his thighs, rolling you off him to get them off the rest of the way. You watched lustfully as you started ripping your own clothes off, desperately yearning for his touch on your bare skin. You’re left in nothing but your panties, the cold draft rising goosebumps on your skin. After sliding his jeans down to his ankles, he leans over to grab you by the hips, dragging you onto his lap once more. He snaked an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. You’re unable to move, your nipples grazing his toned chest. The sensitivity of your hardened nipples causes a jolt to run through you, letting out a soft whine at the skin to skin contact. He notices your sensitivity, resulting in a low chuckle to rumble out of his lips. He smirks, staring at you mischievously. You let out a yelp, trailing off into a pleasured moan as he pinched your right nipple, dipping his head forward and taking the other in his mouth. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud, causing pleasure to shoot straight into your core, ecstasy flowing through your blood. “You sound so fuckin’ sexy, love. Keep going.”

You continue to moan as you arch your back against him, taking more and more of your breast into his mouth. He leaves hickies on the soft, silky skin of your breasts, leaning back to look at his handiwork. He suddenly stops, beckoning for you to turn your back to him. You do as you're told, turning around on his lap with your back facing his chest. He slowly runs his hands down your thighs, opening your legs and placing a foot on each of his knees so you’re wide open for him. He grabs and palms at your thighs, resting a hand right over your pussy, slick with arousal. He chuckles as he feels how slick you are, leaning down to kiss your neck, whispering against your skin. “Look how goddamn wet you are for me. You’re just a little whore, yeah?” He whispers, slapping your pussy with an open palm, causing you to yelp. “You know I’d treat you better than he could, don’t you, love.” He asks, saying it more as a statement than a question. You nod, throwing your head back onto his chest as he slips a finger into your panties. He drags a finger from your hole to your clit, sliding it up and down painfully slow. “Oi, use your words, princess.” He demands, stopping his finger, making you whine out of desperation. “Y-yes! You can treat me better than he can, Simon.”

“Good girl.” He continues sliding his finger between your pussy lips, the lewd sounds of your slick permeating the air. He lifts you by your hips, as if you weighed nothing to him. You feel him positioning the tip of his cock over your panties, swollen and leaking with precum. You buck your hips in need, your head rolling around on his chest. He chuckles deviously, moving your panties to the side as he exposes your clit to the chilled air. “Tell me you want it, love. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you until your screamin’ my name so loud the fuckin’ windows shatter.” His gruff voice sends a chill down your spine, a predatorial lust laced in his tone. You part your lips to speak, your breath hitching in your throat as he slides his tip between your slick folds, causing a groan to escape his lips. “I want it so bad, Simon. I want you so bad. P-please.” You beg, barely able to get your words out as he uses your clit to smear his precum all over your cunt, both of you now wet with each other’s juices. You moan softly, holding back the scream of desperation you so badly wanted to let out. “Good fuckin’ girl. You want my cock in you that bad, aye?” He says, a grunt following as he lines the tip with your hole. “Y-yes! P-please, Simon.” You beg, bucking your hips forward. You feel how big he is already, throbbing and thick, hard like you’ve never felt before. You widen your legs, trying to lower yourself onto him. He holds you up by your hips, stopping you from taking what you need. You whine, your clit throbbing and swollen with need. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” He chuckles, pushing into you further. You both groan, your delicate moans soft and silky compared to his guttural, manly grunts. He lowers you onto him slowly, bucking his hips ever so slightly. He seemed to be holding back, and that frustrated you. You tried to push against his hands once more, trying to suck in just one more measly little inch. He exhaled sharply, suddenly wrapping a strong hand around your throat.

“Quit bein’ so fuckin’ greedy, love. You’re like a bitch in heat for Christ's sake.” He says, the grip on your throat growing as you struggle to breathe. You take the lack of his other hand to stop you for granted, smugly pushing yourself down on him further. You smile triumphantly, feeling the electricity flow through your core. He groans in your ear, tightening his grip on your throat. Your air flow restricts, and you couldn’t have cared less. He was almost inside of you completely, and you could feel resistance as you struggled to take him. Catching his breath from the unexpected death grip your pussy had on him, he speaks. “I was tryin’ to take it slow for you, impatient fuckin’ slut.” He says, raising a hand to your face, landing an open palmed slap to your soft skin. The pain stung you so deliciously, making you giggle with delirium. Simon scoffs behind you, astonished at how absolutely filthy you were. “If that’s how ya wanna play it, love. Fine with me.” He says, and before you got the chance to hear an explanation, he slams into you all in one go, the throbbing tip of his cock pushing past the spongy wall that hadn’t been touched in quite a while. He begins to thrust his hips upward, plowing into you as if there were no tomorrow. You yelled out, your sounds a mixture of pained yells and lustful moans. His hand still had quite of a grip on your throat, causing your face to grow a deep shade of red as he fucked you. Noticing your lack of airflow, he lets go of your neck.

He struggles to get his cock in you all the way, causing him to slow his pace. He groans in your ear as you grip his cock like a vice.

“Relax. Let me in, baby.” He brings his fingers up to his mouth, spitting into them. He wraps an arm around your front, resting his lubed fingers on your clit. As he draws wet circles on your clit, your walls flutter and spasm around his dick, allowing him further entry. He lets out a low chuckle, continuing to rub your clit, the lewd sounds of him spreading his saliva between your pussy lips bouncing off the windows. “Gotta show the girl some love for her to open up to me, right, lass?” He says, his accent thick on his tongue. You nod, letting out a string of slurred “mhmms” as he continues loving on your clit. He starts to pump into you again, grunting and moaning in your ear. He curses, throwing his head back as he fucks you. Your heels dig into his knees, hoisting yourself up as you throw yourself down on him in sync with his thrusts. This seems to incapacitate him, ripping the thoughts right from his head. Your tits jiggle with every thrust, your hair hanging down and brushing against his face. He adores the view of you, trying your hardest not to cum as he pounds the spot that drives you nuts without missing a beat. The steady rhythm made you feel like you haven’t felt ever before, coming close to your end quicker than you ever had. His dick was working brutal magic on your walls, his fingers lovingly caress and flick at your clit. The mixture of feelings soon became too much for you to handle. You clenched against him, the sounds of your inner slick coating his cock turning you on like never before.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” He leans down, whispering into your neck. You nod furiously, eyes tearing up at the absolute love he was playing on your clit with. As if it were his own cock, feeling your pleasure ripple through you and into his blood as he touched you. In this moment, you knew. He had you. There wasn’t any escaping him after this, and there was no escaping your feelings any longer. The unsettling yet comforting feeling made your core tighten, conjuring an orgasm so strong, you’d prove to him with direct evidence that you were his, and no one else's.

“ ‘m gonna cum, Simon. ‘m gonna cum” You slur, pressing the back of your head into his chest. “Cum for me, baby. I want you to fuckin’ cum all over my cock. You beautiful fuckin’ whore.” His words send you over the edge, a warmth rushing straight to your clit, spraying his hand with your squirt as you yell out, your eyes stinging with tears as you had never felt anything so. fucking. intimate. Your walls pulsate around him, your thighs instinctively trying to close themselves at the overstimulation. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. Simon wraps his hands around your thighs, prying them open with a strength you didn’t know he had. Simon seemed to enjoy your orgasm as much as you did, and it seemed that he got off more on watching you absolutely crumble at his touch. You knew it was something predatorial, but you chose to enjoy it anyway. As your walls fluttered and tightened around him, his grip on your thighs moved to his fingertips, leaving dark red marks in its wake. You knew he was close, and you didn’t want to admit that the thought of him filling you up with his seed, made you go feral. You continued bouncing yourself on him, his face now buried in your hair as he cursed and moaned. He was no longer bucking his hips at a rhythmic pace, now sloppily pumping into you as your cunt did its work on him. “Fuck, baby. I’m so fuckin’ close.” He gripped your thighs tighter, causing you to wince at the pain. It felt as if he was trying to rip your flesh open with his fingers, the feeling of your hot, squelching walls, fresh from an orgasm driving him to insanity. You smile as he continues moaning nasty nothings in your ear.

“Gonna breed you, make you mine… forever.”

“You’re mine now, do you understand that?”

“You won’t ever think of fuckin’ another man when I’m done with you. Do. You. Understand.”

“Do you think Konig could fuck you like this? Didn’t think so, baby. Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine - fuuuuckin’ hell”

You keep a steady rhythm, rolling your hips onto his cock as the heels of your feet dig into his knees. He lets out a long guttural groan, breathing heavily against your hair. You feel his cock throb inside of you, his seed filling you to the brim of leaking. You feel some of him slip out of you, dribbling down your hole and onto your asscheek. He thrusts into you slowly, fucking his seed back into you. You belonged to him now, and God help any man who so much as looked at you the wrong way. You both stay connected inside of you for a minute, breathing into the air. The windows of the car were now fogged up, the chill making its way across your skin as you curled up in his lap.

“Mine. All fuckin’ mine”.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Simon’s lips curl into a grin as he slides your panties down your legs, balling them up in his hand as he tucks them into his pocket. You scoffed at him as you dressed yourself, still feeling the warmth of him drip down your walls.

“What would the team say if they found out you’re a panty stealer?” You ask, teasing him as you slip your shirt on.

“Well, depends on who it is. Soap’ll definitely beg for a whiff.” He says, your jaw dropping open. You smack his chest playfully. He grabs your hand, pulling you into a kiss. He kisses you gently, a great difference from how he’d been kissing you earlier.

“Feelin’ better, love?” He says, breath hot on your lips.

“Very much so.” You chuckle. You look at his lips, wondering what else was behind that mask of his. You look back and forth between his eyes, slowly reaching your hand forward, pulling the hem of his balaclava. “Let me see you, Simon” You say gently. He wraps his hands around your wrist, not stopping you, just holding you. You see a glint of nervousness in his eyes as you pull it from his head. You smile as your eyes scan over his face. His blonde hair sat messily atop his head, his features all coming together to make the most strikingly beautiful man you’d ever seen. His breathing grows heavier as he sees your reaction, seemingly releasing a breath he’d been holding. He smirks at you, slowly bringing your hand to his face. You caress his stubbled cheek, running your fingertips along his strong nose, crooked from multiple breaks. You softly run your fingers over his lips and jawline, your eyes lidded with lust. The way he looked back at you, confirmed everything you’d been trying to prevent yourself from believing all these months. “If you felt the same way about me, why did you…?” You start, tears stinging your eyes.

“Things were complicated, love. Or not, I don’t know. I was a coward. You made me a coward.” He admits, a somber tone to his voice that you never expected to hear from him. He was usually a humorous, flat-toned man who expressed himself with silence, or witticisms, and there was no in between. The moment felt fragile, as if it would shatter if you spoke too loudly. You smile at him with shaky lips, a tear falling down your cheek. “All this time I thought…I don’t know, I thought you hated me too much to want to fix it.” He continues, swiping the tear from your face with his thumb. You felt as if you spoke you would break, so you kissed him. He breathes heavily into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. “I’m not good at this, love. But, you make me feel ways I thought were never possible for someone like me. And I promise, with every fiber of my being…I’ll never let this go. I’ll never let you go. No matter how hard you try and run from me.” He says, breaking into a smile at the last words. You smile at him, slipping your fingers through his blonde locks. His eyes gaze into your soul, his words settling into your heart, engraving themselves in stone.

“I hated seeing you so broken up over that prick…I guess it fueled me to be better. To be better for you.” He says, resting his head in your hands.

“I only wanted him as a rebound, Simon.” You say, a sly smirk on your face. He scoffs at you, raising his head to meet yours. His smile was still so new to you, enough to make you crumble at his feet without shame. “You’re a damn minx, you know that?” He says, a soft chuckle escaping from his lips. “You don’t have to worry about that useless bloke anymore.” He continues, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek. “I can treat you better than he ever can, love”.

2K notes · View notes

seongclb · 10 months

Text

CUPID’S MISTAKE ! sim jaeyun

♫ crybaby by the neighbourhood

SYNOPSIS. you’ve never understood why he gets so many dates all the time, he’s bloody insufferable. you can’t stand him at all, yet everyone else is crazy for him. i guess, you’ll find out what’s so irresistible about himself, soon. after all, he’s planning your valentines date together already.

PAIRING. playboy!enha x reader, slight enemies to lovers au, angst & fluff.

WARNINGS. cursing, suggestive ish make outs but they’re not that bad & jake being MEANNN.

WORD COUNT. almost 9k (8,976)

N. hi guys it’s finally out! member reveal omg !! feel like this fic could have been way better but i promise to make the next not as rushed and rubbish :( lmk what u guys think thoughhh .. also big thank you to @dazed-hee for beta reading :)

TAGLIST. @delcakoo2 @flwrshee @woon2u @rikizm @luckyowl @luvistqrzzz @mrchweeee @seungiesluv @x-mbl

1. I THINK I TRY TOO HARD.

You always hated the first days of school, but for some reason, they had always summed up your year perfectly. Something about them was always so exciting.

Every first day of school for four years now, you started your day with a Starbucks accompanied by your best friends: Yunjin and Taehyun. The sweet taste of the coffee greeting your tastebuds first thing in the morning paired with your - somewhat - lovely best friends. They spent the entire morning bickering, but still, it was a pleasant start to the morning.

Entering the school gates, you heard Yunjin beside you say, “Guys, get a good look. This is the last first day of high school we’re going to have.”

Taehyun rolls his eyes, “Literally makes no difference at all. We’ll see this shithole for another year.”

“Do you always have to contradict what I say?” She huffs to which Taehyun happily nods and you laugh at the entire situation.

“What lesson do you all start with?” You ask. “I have Chemistry with Mr Kim.”

“Same,” your friends say in unison, so you make your way to Chemistry, listening intently to the bickering that continues.

Straight away, your teacher puts you in a seating plan, despite the many complaints against it. You get placed at the back corner, the seat beside you remaining empty for now while Yunjin sits a few rows ahead of you to your left and Taehyun sits one seat ahead of you.

Quickly, the class begins to get full but your eyes linger on a certain nuisance strutting into the classroom.

Mr Kim informs him of his seat, which he begins striding to in his tampered version of the school’s uniform that everyone seems to think looks “cool”. Only until he stands right beside you do you realise that his seat is the one right next to you.

“Hi partner,” Jake smiles at you, before taking a seat.

“There has to be some kind of mistake,” You say, raising your hand to protest against this act of horror.

Jake brings his own hand up to pull yours down, “You know how Mr Kim is, he’ll assign you a detention if you make a fuss. He’s short tempered, I learnt that the hard way so trust me.”

You pull your arm away from Jake’s hold, “He’s short tempered with students like you, not honour students like me.”

“Okay, snobby much. You’ll have to lose that characteristic of yourself if you wanna be friends. Or more?” He winks at you, causing your face to deform in disgust.

Jake laughs at the way you cross your arms, “Relax, Jaeyun. I have no interest in you.”

“We’ll see.”

The rest of the lesson is spent working with Jake rather than working against him, since he’s good at Chemistry, which isn’t a surprise as you were aware that science was his strong suit.

The only issue is the amount of jokes he’s made about you and him having Chemistry; they just get worse every single time, too.

“See you on Wednesday, Y/n,” Jake smiles at you. Seeing the way his lips curl into a sweet smile forces you to smile back at him even if it’s against your will, but you catch yourself rather quickly and scoff at him before leaving with your friends.

Yunjin and Taehyun drag you to your usual bench in the school, forcing you to take a seat as they also take a seat to sit in front of you and immediately begin questioning you.

Yunjin is the first to start, “Wow, Y/n. After years of judging me for finding Jake attractive, here you are flirting with him the whole lesson.”

“I was not!” You exclaim in disbelief.

Taehyun slings an arm around your shoulder, “Y/n, I sit in front of you. I heard all of the jokes he made.”

“Yeah, then you also heard the way I told him to be quiet after every single one of his corny ass jokes. He’s a little shit.”

“A little shit who has you wrapped around his finger already,” Yunjin and Taehyun high five.

“I never thought Jake would be the reason why you two are agreeing for once,” You say. “In all honesty, looks and science are his only strong points which is why he uses them for his personal gain. The amount of hearts he’s probably broken in the space of two weeks is probably more than people I’ve ever spoken to in my entire life.”

Contradicting their previous statements, your two best friends nod at this and cease their teasing because it was true, Jake was too much of a flirt. He’s always had that reputation about him; the one where his choice of words can make anyone swoon for a while, until he’s bored of them. Especially if he uses that smile of his, he could get away with anything.

But not with you. You weren’t like that. Not the type to be swayed by his antics.

Perhaps, it was because school had always been your main priority so you never really had time to be distracted by guys like Jake and now that it was your senior year, there definitely wasn't enough time to get distracted by Jake. He just wasn’t worth it.

Or so you thought.

You found now that Jake would always be sitting in his seat before you in Chemistry, greeting you with that smile of his every single time, and even going as far as pulling out your chair for you just like a gentleman would.

“Save it, Jaeyun. We all know that being a gentleman isn't your thing.”

“Of course it is. How do you think I get all the women to fall for me?” He has a response for everything.

“Well, that definitely won't happen this time, Jaeyun,” you remark, smiling teasingly at him.

He pauses for a moment which causes you to look at him - he wasn't the type to pause after something like that.

Jake has a smirk plastered on his lips, “No one else calls me Jaeyun. Why do you call me that?”

With a sigh, you respond, “Because, I know all your playthings call you that, so it would seem inappropriate to call you the name that they do, as I definitely am not one of your playthings.”

He simply just laughs and calls you a nerd under his breath.

“Have you heard about the cupid thing that’s going to happen?” He asks you.

It was called the Cupid Fantasy Draft and it was all Yunjin could talk about for the last three days. The Cupid Fantasy Draft was an odd occasion that your classmates were organising in which there would be students paired together and they would go on dates and stuff for the entire year. You thought it was a silly idea as it was basically forcing people to date, but Yunjin argued that it was a good idea since people could get to know others easier. You didn't argue with it that much since you knew you wouldn't get picked.

“Yes, I have. Stupid idea.”

Jake groans, “Do you have to be so boring all the time? Have some fun once in a while. You never know, you might get picked.”

This causes you to pry yourself away from your books to look at Jake with a stare that seems to catch him off guard.

“Even if someone is dumb enough to pick me, they can’t force me to go to it.”

Once again, he responds to you with, “We’ll see. Did you know that this cupid date is also your valentine? So you don't have to worry about being lonely on Valentine's day like you always have been!”

“Ha ha,” You mock. “Are you even doing this thing?”

“Of course.”

You laugh, “This doesn’t seem like your type of thing. Isn’t this too restricting for you?”

A deep frown washes his face, “What do you mean by that?”

“Aren’t you used to dating two people a day? Why the sudden change of heart?”

Jake shrugs, “Maybe, I’ve met someone.”

To this, you feel a small hit to your chest at the thought of Jake with someone else but you easily brush it off, “Yeah, right.”

What the hell was that?

At lunch, your friends are conversing about the Cupid Fantasy Draft happening later that evening - just like they have been for days now - while your nose is buried into a romance book to make up for the ever so slight damage to your heart in Chemistry. The aim of the romance novel was to remind you that Jake Sim was not worth being hurt over, and instead the fictional character showering his beloved in endless amounts of affection was causing you to swoon.

You’re pulled away from your fictional fantasy by a voice calling you, “Y/n! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Jake stands behind you, with Sunghoon and Jay to his side, sending you friendly smiles.

“What do you want, Jaeyun?”

He holds out a familiar pen. It was one of your favourite pens, designed with a bear and had a sweet scented smell to add to the speciality of the pen.

“How did you get this?” you attempt to snatch it away, but Jake is quick to snatch it back.

“I took it in Chemistry, it looked cute,” He smiles and brings it up to his face to smell it. “Smells nice, too.”

“Very funny. Give it back, now. That’s my favourite pen.”

He shakes his head, mockingly, “It can’t be your favourite if you didn’t even notice I took it.”

You huff in annoyance, “That’s because I was rushing to get out of the class so I could get away from you.”

Jake jokingly puts his hand on his chest and rubs it to pretend he’s in pain due to your comment, before placing the pen in his pocket, “I’m sure you’ll be fine for a few hours without it. Come to the Fantasy Draft and you’ll get it back.”

Not missing the opportunity to wink flirtatiously, he turns on his heels with his friends and leaves.

Your protests against the event had no effect on your friends, who dragged you out of the comforts of your bedroom, completely wasting your perfect night of studying. Yunjin even went to the effort of picking out an outfit for you and tricking you into putting it on by pretending she needed inspiration of her own.

“If I come to this thing and none of you get picked, I’m going to lose my shit,” You warn as you walk up to the door of the house that it was taking place at. “Whose place even is this?”

Your question is answered by an immediate swing of the front door opening, revealing Jay in black jeans and a cream jumper.

It was nice to see him in a different colour for once. It made sense that this was his home - you noticed the Porsche parked in the driveway along with the three story house.

“Hey, come in,” He says, leading you through the house, “It’s about to start, so you’re on time.”

Your eyes search Jay’s large mansion looking house until they meet a familiar individual.

You take notice of the girl sitting at his side, recognising her from walking around the hallways at school.

Without taking another look at him, you take a seat on the couch and Yunjin follows.

“Jake strikes again,” She says, staring at the girl beside him who's too busy giggling at whatever he’s saying to notice you staring her down.

“Expected.”

That feeling from Chemistry seemed to make its way back, you felt your chest ache slightly. But again, you pushed it away just in time for Jay to return and for the Cupid Fantasy Draft to start.

Jay takes a seat at the centre and begins explaining the rules, “Listen, I don’t know who made this idea but I’ll just go through the rules and shit. We go in order and you pick someone who is “yours” for the entire year. Get it?”

There are no interruptions, causing the event to commence.

Jay goes first, and soon it goes around in a circle - with Yunjin and Taehyun surprisingly getting picked - until the last one left is Jake.

His turn makes everyone stop and listen. You weren’t the only one surprised that he was taking part in this event, so you knew people would be talking about the lucky pick all year round. After all, it was known that he wasn’t the type to stick to one person, so it was extremely shocking that he was going to choose someone to spend the entire senior year with.

Taehyun leans in to whisper in both yours and Yunjins ears, “Betting 10 that he’ll choose Y/n.”

You shove his arms and moments after, Jake smirks at you, “I choose Y/n.”

Your face drops. Your heart, however, is jumping in happiness while an entire population’s worth of butterflies fly around in your stomach. Fighting the urge to smile at him is almost as irresistible as him.

Fuck, he’s got me, you think to yourself.

Everyone’s eyes are fixated on you as you leave the room, running up the stairs until you enter one of the many rooms of Jay’s place.

There were far too many thoughts running through your brain right now.

Jake Sim, Sim Jaeyun. He chose you for the Cupid Fantasy Draft?

A feeling of sickness started to rise within you. Why, why, why. You probably had a bounty written on yourself now without even knowing the reason why Jake had picked you.

A knock on the door brings you away from the millions of thoughts imprisoning you.

“Y/n?” Yunjin’s voice is clear as day and you open the door. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. This is so random,” You respond, putting your head in your hands.

Yunjin nods, “Look. Even though Taehyun and I have made so many jokes over the last two months about you and Jake, we both know how he is and to be honest, even though Taehyun somewhat a predicted it, he’s shocked as fuck right now. We all knew Jake would have picked someone tonight but for some reason, I still thought he wasn’t going to take this seriously.”

“What if he isn’t?” You question. “What if he’s just using me as a plaything?”

“Well, Y/n, you’re smart enough to know when that’s happening.”

She’s wrong though. Over the last two months, you’ve enjoyed your jokes and snarky comments with Jake but most of all, you’ve had memorable conversations, too.

From favourite ice cream flavours to biggest fears in life, you’ve enjoyed every single bit of it, so it was hard to tell if he was really using you. There was something about the way your conversations flowed that made you think Jake was beginning to open up to you. Now, thinking about it, you felt silly for perhaps blurring the line between Jake being a good talker and him genuinely having an interest in you.

Then again, he had picked you for the draft. This was all too confusing, all too much for only your brain to handle alone.

“Yunjin, I have something to tell you.”

Right there and then, you explain the last two months and how with Sim Jaeyun, time means nothing since he’ll have you wrapped around his finger whenever he wants.

By the end of the night, both you and Yunjin have opened the snack drawer in the room you’re in and have discussed quite a lot: Jay, what to do about Sim Jaeyun and how to exit Jay’s mansion without getting caught.

Right now, you’re on the third part where Yunjin is standing guard at the front door and keeping an eye out for Jake or his comrades.

You rush down the stairs, just about to leave the door until…

“Y/n! Jake’s been looking everywhere for you,” Sunghoon puts an arm around your shoulder and drags you to the living room as Yunjin mouths an apology to you.

Once again, your eyes meet Jake’s figure. Only this time, he doesn’t have a companion stuck to his side. Instead, he has a drink in his hand that’s resting on the rip in his jeans and he looks bored to death. Again, hope begins to rise within you.

He looks up and jumps to his feet, “I thought you left.”

“I tried to,” you admit, making Jake laugh heartily.

He beckons to the door, “Let’s get out of here.”

You follow Jake, preparing to yell at him for his actions tonight but your anger disappears when he takes your hand in his and leads you out of the door and into his car. You can feel how cold his fingertips are from previously holding the cup in his hand, but you don’t seem to mind it at all.

Sitting at the driver’s seat, your eyes focus on his face. His nose is perfectly curved, accentuating the other features of his face such as his lashes that lay flat against his eyelids to match the shape of his eyelids. You’ve taken notice of this over the months; watching the way they crinkle when he laughs and the giggle leaves his lips.

“Soooo,” he breaks the silence and tilts his head to look at you.

“Don’t “soooo” me, Jaeyun. What on earth are you playing at? And, where’s my pen?” Even though you’re asking in such an angry tone, Jake can’t help but giggle at how endearing you can be sometimes.

He reaches into his pocket and passes you your pen, “Here. I don’t know what you’re talking about, by the way. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He’s right, but you still argue, “You knew I didn’t want to be picked tonight, and you did it anyway. Why?”

Jake shrugs, “I took it as a challenge earlier. I thought it would be fun, too.”

Your eyes roll, “Is that all that matters to you?”

He nods, “Is there something wrong with that? Plus, this way we can do useful things that I’m sure are appealing to you, like study dates.”

There goes your heart doing backflips again. Dammit, Jaeyun.

“You don’t have to say yes, you know. You said so yourself that nobodies forcing you to do this. But, I’m just saying that I heard you needed help for Physics and I’m the man for it,” Jake informs you.

That was true, Jake had won every Physics award that existed at school. A few years back, he had even competed nationally and gotten first place.

“As long as you don’t call it study dates, we’re on,” You say, much to both his and your surprise.

“The only catch is,” He says, “You can’t fall in love with me.”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “As if it was possible, Sim.”

Lie. Your heart was evidence of it.

Jake decides to take you on a quick drive, switching from driving fast and slow just to get a panicked reaction from you to amuse himself.

He parks outside a homely cafe, and exits the car without a word. Seconds later, he opens your door and helps you out with his hand reached out again. You were never one to deny affection from good looking guys.

The cafe owner greets him immediately, “Jaeyun!”

Jake rushes behind the counter and embraces the woman in a tight hug as you watch in shock, your mouth agape but still feeling the warmth radiate from the sight ahead of you.

The woman leaves the hug to look at you standing near the door, a smile creeping on her lips as she looks at Jake for an explanation.

“Y/n, this is my mum,” Jake says, almost sheepishly if that was possible for him.

Your eyes widen as you manage to stutter out, “Nice to meet you, Mrs Sim.”

Why the hell has he taken me to meet his mother right now, you think to yourself. He literally just told me not to fall in love with him, and he’s making me meet his mother of all people?

Jake excuses himself to wash his hands, leaving you and his mother alone. She calls you over with a warm smile.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

You search the menu and end up choosing a milkshake.

“So, are you Jaeyun’s partner?” She asks you.

You shake your head, and she frowns, “That’s a shame. You seem like a nice person . I always hoped the one he would bring to me would be the one he was going to marry.”

Pause.

You were the first one out of the hundred that got to meet his mother? There was no way. Why was he being so confusing?

Jake appears into the room with a smile, “Mum, we’ll take whatever to go. Y/n and I have a few plans for tonight.”

His mum smiles at him, “Bring her more often. I wanna meet her properly.”

Jake’s ears go bright red as he nods, giving his mum a kiss on the cheek before leaving with you.

This couldn’t be possible; this had to be one big nightmare.

“Your mum is very pretty,” you tell him and he smiles at you.

“She reminds me of you.”

Your heart is thumping again, so loud that you’re worried he’s able to hear it. You wonder how he can casually say this and then turn back to whatever he’s thinking about.

“Shut up, Sim.”

You decide not to ask what it is that reminds him of her in you, but instead you bask in the comfortable silence lingering the soft breeze while Jake drives to your next destination of the night.

He lets down your window so that the air can hit your face. He has the perfect view of your eyes fluttering close due to the comfort of how it feels against your skin. Your breath is hitched in your throat, in the most relaxing way ever. As Jake speeds up, you find his hand in yours in an almost reassuring manner; it’s as if he’s letting you know he won’t hurt you, as long as you don’t let him close enough.

Pushing all your anxious thoughts away for later, you decide to enjoy this moment with Jake and the milkshake in the hand that Jake wasn’t holding. It simply felt right to you, more right than anything ever did for a long time.

Jake takes you to a small hill that you both climb together, hand in hand since he says he’s worried that you’ll fall because of the dark which seems like an excuse that you don’t question.

You look at the view ahead of you; you’re encapsulated by it. It’s at a perfect position in the city, there's a perfect sight of all the enormous edifices lit by the hundreds of lights in each of their buildings and the moonlight hitting it square in the middle to only accentuate the beauty further. It takes your breath away so well that you forget Jake is pulling you to sit beside him.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He says, softly to which you nod. “I don’t bring many here, even though you probably think I do. This is my place for when I feel anxious or something.”

You look at him, and see that not only are the enormous edifices benefitting from the light of the orb in the sky, but Jake is too. He looks mesmerising under the moonlight.

“That’s shocking, Jaeyun,” You remark. “Didn’t know you felt anxious.”

He nods, “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know.”

You notice that it’s true, all you knew was that Jake was trouble and the small details he began to tell you in your Chemistry lessons. You were intrigued to learn more about him.

“Do you feel anxious right now?” You question.

Jake hesitates, “A bit.”

You nod, squeezing his hand to comfort him, but it was also for yourself. You needed to figure out the boundaries between you and Jake.

You don’t know how it happens, but you spend almost three hours sitting with Jake. Half of it was spent in silence, enjoying watching the city work ahead of you while the other half was spent learning small facts about one another.

A cursed yawn from you brings Jake’s attention away from the warm night and asks to take you home, much to your dismay.

He parks in front of your dorm, “It was a fun night, Y/n. I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Oh, and you have to come to my soccer practice tomorrow.”

“I have to?” You giggle.

He nods, “It’s part of the negotiations.”

You hum in response, walking off into your dorm.

You expected yourself to be a mess as soon as Jake left, but for some reason, you slept better than you did in months as you anticipated the sight of Jake in a soccer jersey.

2. I GOT THIS ANXIOUS FEELING, BUT IT GOES AWAY FOR A MINUTE WHEN I’M WITH YOU BREATHING.

You’ve been at your desk for hours, a coffee placed somewhere in the clutter of it all, seven books are laid out in front of you and not a single one of them makes any sense. You’re starting to see shapes in the paint of your walls and that’s when you decide to head off to bed.

As soon as you reach the comfort of your bed, there’s a ring at the doorbell.

Groaning, you stomp to your door where you see Jake with his hood covering most of his face that’s staring at your cat slippers.

“Nice slippers,” He comments, to which you smell alcohol leaving his mouth.

“Thanks. What are you doing here? Have you been drinking?” You ask, pulling him into your dorm.

You watch as he takes off the hood of his sweater, revealing a scar on his lip along with a bruised up eye. Gasping, you move closer to him to assess the wounds on his face.

“How did this happen?” You ask as you rush to your cupboards for disinfectants.

Jake takes a seat at your counter and begins to explain, “Jay, Sunghoon and I were having some fun when this girl's boyfriend got mad that I dated his girl before him and started to fight me. You should see him, though.”

He lifts his arm to show how his knuckles are bruised up, to which you kiss your teeth at.

Rather than telling him about how maybe this wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t dated so many people, you focus on cleaning his wounds and treating them.

Jake winces when the disinfectant touches his cuts, but allows you to keep cleaning. You only put plasters on them since thankfully, none of the cuts are bad enough to stitch them.

His eyes start to wander along your face so he brings up a finger of his to trace along your features which he decides he’ll blame the alcohol on tomorrow morning.

Before you die of a heart attack, you pull away from his touch, and pass him two ice packs; one for his eye and another for his knuckles, you also lead him into your living room. where you simply stare at the marks on his face until he gets awkward.

“It’s not that bad,” he assures you, rubbing your knee.

“You might wanna tell that to your face.”

He giggles before wincing again and straightening the plaster on the corner of his lips.

You don’t ask him why he’s come to your place, but instead, you grab a blanket from your room and place it over him to make sure it’s known that he can stay here for the night.

As you’re about to leave and walk off to your bedroom, Jake grabs your wrist gently.

“Stay,” He pleads.

That’s all it takes for you to lay in his arms, with one of your hands reaching up to play with his brown locks, causing his eyes to flutter open and close and for his breathing to get heavier.

Just as he’s about to sleep, Jake inches forwards and presses his lips onto yours. The metallic taste of his blood mixes with your saliva, but it’s not enough to make you pull away from your kiss.

The kiss is deep, with both of you not wishing to pull away anytime soon. It leaves both of you breathless and you’re sure that Jake can now taste the cherry lip balm that you applied on your lips. The kiss makes you feel like you’re in the clouds and your head is filled with nothing but Jake.

It feels like years have passed when you both pull away from the kiss, panting and pressing foreheads together.

“Y/n,” Jake breaks the silence and you hum as a response. “There’s something about you that makes me want to change. Don’t leave me.”

It was definitely the alcohol coursing through his veins that urged him to say this. Seeing Jake vulnerable was oddly your favourite version of him, he was always so soft with you and that was the time when he was the most open. For some reason, he kept this side of himself closed off but you didn’t argue with being the only one who saw this side of him, even if it wasn’t frequent.

Clearly, that was the side of you that had become completely infatuated by him over the last few months. Honestly, every moment with him had changed you for the better.

He somehow was always able to bring those stress levels of yours down in every way he could; whether it was taking you on a drive with the wind and Jake taking your breath away, or coming over with ice cream. Or even just coming over to talk with you just helped.

You press a kiss to his cheek and wrap your arms around him to hug him tightly until you fall asleep in his arms that hold you close to his chest where you both felt a sense of security even if you knew he wouldn’t remember this in the morning and that by the time you woke up, there would be a blanket draped over your shoulders with no sight of Jake.

3. I CAN TASTE IT, MY HEART’S BREAKING.

“You ready?” Jake pops out of nowhere, creeping up on you while you're packing up to leave the suffocating Math class.

Before you can even get a word out, he’s helping you pack up by snatching all your things and hoisting it over his shoulder.

“Jaeyun! Give me my things,” You scold him.

He shakes his head, “No, you’re taking too long. You can pack up when we’re sitting on the bleachers on the soccer field!”

Shoot, you forgot he had soccer practice today. This new routine with him wasn’t easy getting used to. Especially, since his reminders were done by force rather than nice texts at the beginning of the day that would have definitely been more helpful and effective.

He still manages to have space to hold your hand with a few fingers, even with many of your belongings in his hands; but you noticed over the months that Sim Jaeyun enjoyed physical contact.

Now, you still had thoughts wondering if it was the vulnerable Sim Jaeyun that enjoyed always having a hold of you, or the generic one that was available to everyone. Either way, all you knew was that it made your heart run a thousand miles per second.

It was funny; you saw the eyes always watching your movements when Jake was with you. The envy was heavy in the air, but you never seemed to care. Everything else was unimportant when Jake was with you.

“When does practice end today? I have plans” You jokingly whine, to which Jake snaps his head towards you, displaying the small pout on his lips.

“It’ll end at 9, so you better cancel those plans.”

“What?! You’re practising for 6 hours?”

Now, Jake laughs, “No, we’re going on a date afterwards.”

Your ears perk up at this, “Where?”

“Not to worry for now, angel,” He presses a kiss on your cheek as he sits you down on the bleachers and returns your belongings while he makes way to the changing rooms.

Angel, angel, angel. All you can hear is the pet name he kept for you, echoing in your ears like a love song on repeat.

Seeing as Jake and his friends liked to take centuries to get changed in their jerseys, you decided to keep yourself busy whilst burying your nose into a book when more people started joining you on the bleachers - one in particular catching your eye and that being a girl named Choi Heejin. You knew of her, but not properly since she didn't go to the same school as you. You also knew that she was Jake’s longest plaything, hence why she had been sending you dirty looks as she took a seat.

Feigning no sense of fear, you watch Jake and his friends walk onto the court and the sound of Jake’s laugh rings through the almost empty field, bringing a smile to your face.

Jake runs over to you, handing you his bag. You watch him glance at Heejin, displaying a somewhat shocked expression which you could tell he was doing his best to conceal.

“Heejin, what are you doing here?”

“I came to watch, like old days,” Heejin smiles at him, her eyes radiating nothing but horrid intentions. Jake nods, taking in her words.

“Well, it definitely won't be like old times, since I have Y/n here with me.”

Jake innocently smiles at you, leaving a peck on your lips before running off back with the guys.

Contrary to what you said before, there certainly was something bothering you about the way this girl was staring at you, but after Jake’s act before, you felt a lot more at ease.

Unfortunately, you had hoped to forget her presence but it seemed that she just had to cheer every time Jake had scored or done something remotely rewarding.

This only just irked your temper, causing you to look at her with the dirtiest look you could muster up.

“Something wrong?” She drawls.

“Only the fact that you’re drooling over Jaeyun when he told you that there’s no chance of him getting back with you.”

She cackles, literally cackles, in your face, “Jaeyun, huh? I thought I was the only one who called him that.”

As much as you try not to show it, you’re sure she sees your face drop.

What on earth did she mean by that?

She only continues to stab you with her words, “Do you really think he means what he said? What, because he’s been with you for a few months? Are you two even dating yet?”

You don’t say anything; no you and Jake weren’t dating but that didn’t mean this wasn’t serious. Did it?

Pleased with the damage she’s done, she gets up and grabs her things, “Well, tell Jaeyun my number hasn’t changed. I’m sure he remembers it - he’s always been good with numbers.”

You stare ahead as she leaves and you can feel the tears brim your eyes as Jake makes his way over, her eyes repeating in your head over and over again. A feeling of sickness rose in your stomach, you felt stupid for even falling for Jake and thinking he would fall for you even in this time. After all, he had told you not to fall for him and here you were, two months away from Valentine’s day with your heart only full with him. It was insane that one could have this much of an effect on you; it was as if the air you breathed in was just Jake. Only Jake. Everything was about him, Sim Jaeyun, your Jaeyun.

But it wasn’t supposed to be, he specifically told you not to. Perhaps this was all part of his plan when he had chosen you for that stupid cupid draft.

You didn’t expect Jake to be running after you but as soon as he gets close enough, Jake immediately wraps his hand around your wrist to bring you to a halt and spins you around to look at him, “Y/n, stop.”

You’re panting when you stop, tears falling down your face uncontrollably that you’re sure are burning into your cheeks. Jake tries to pull you into his arms, but you reject this notion which definitely catches him by surprise judging by the way his eyebrows raise.

“She called you Jaeyun, you said I’m the only one who called you that.”

“Y/n, that was a very long time ago.”

As if that makes it any better. Millions of questions flow through your brain, all wondering almost the exact same thing and you question whether the thought has actually left your head since the day you felt some sort of adoration towards Sim Jaeyun: what am I to him?

So, there goes it.

“What am I to you?” The second the question leaves your mouth, all the strength that you had disappeared and turned into the nerve-wracking sick feeling reappearing in the pits of your stomach.

“I already told you a while ago, Y/n. This is nothing, we are nothing to one another” his words cut you deeper than anything you’ve ever felt before. Deeper than Heejin’s only moments ago.

This was an unexplainable type of pain. Seeing Jake’s eyes look at you coldly, as if he’s disappointed at the fact that you’ve fallen for him just like everybody else. As if the time you’ve spent together has meant absolutely nothing. Then again, this was Sim Jaeyun you were talking about. Of course, none of it meant anything - all the things he said to make you feel special and loved were nothing to him. You were a fool for thinking otherwise even for a second.

The pair of you only stare at each other with every passing moment, looking at one another until you simply can’t recognise the person in front of you, which ultimately brings you to turning away from Sim Jaeyun forever.

4. I KNOW I’LL FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU, BABY. AND THAT’S NOT WHAT I WANNA DO. (JAKE POV)

There was something about the way conversations flowed so easily when I spoke to you. It always led to me wanting more, craving more. Half the time, I didn’t even notice what I was saying until it was too late. But still, there wasn’t the usual feeling of when one overshares. No. Instead, I had felt a strange comfort hug me like a warm, snug air wrapping its arms around me and telling me that everything was going to be alright.

It was odd and unfamiliar to the point where I would feel uncomfortable by all the foreign comfort. I had never felt something like that before.

Often, I would find myself sitting at the top of the hill late at night and staring at the busy city in an attempt to drag my mind away from you. Even so, my thoughts were being invaded by only you, it was so suffocating in the best way possible. All my attempts and not loving you were futile after years of pushing people away, all it took was a single lesson for you to draw my attention. And that was by far the scariest thing I had ever experienced in my entire life. It was enamoring; you were simply enamoring.

I thought it must have been the alcohol that possessed me to choose you for the Cupid Fantasy Draft, but by the end of the night, I came to realise that it was my heart speaking for me. For once, my heart had knocked my brain out of the way and took control but something about it had felt so right even though every single bone in my being was urging me to resist. This was the first time in a while that I felt as though everything was right as it should be. The Cupid Fantasy Draft was the perfect opportunity for me to win you, so I took that opportunity. It would be a lie if I said that I didn’t know how in love with you I would get, but there was nothing I could do about it. I had let it overcome me until it was the only thing I was consuming.

Until, the dreaded moments when you weren’t beside me and I convinced myself that this was going too far and for some reason, I was thankful for warning you about me. You didn’t deserve it, you were far too precious for the ruins of me. You deserve someone better and I was going to make sure it had happened, even if it broke me. Which it did.

Along the way, there were times where I needed you and only you. My heart began to ache when you were not near, the oxygen around me began to seem inefficient because I was not breathing the scent of whatever perfume you had on and for that, my lungs were poisoned by the fumes of an unimportant air, an air that didn't have anything to do with. I began to rely on you for my ultimate survival - I only felt alive with you near me, with your hand in mine. There was no part of me that cared how it looked, or that my persona was being thrown away, until it was too late.

For a while, I contemplated being selfish and letting you completely in. I wondered what it would be like to show the feelings I had for you and to let myself love you and only you. I almost began to convince myself, but it was for the better that I was not 100%. The small percentage of me that was reluctant had saved you from me in the end.

When I saw Heejin that day, it was like a blast from the past; a reality check. This wasn’t who I am, I wasn’t supposed to be with you. You shouldn’t be with someone who only hurts you. I knew Heejin wasn’t just a reminder to me, but to you, too - which was why I had let her stay that day at the soccer practice. It was an impulsive idea that turned out for the better. Although I don’t know what she said that day, I knew whatever caused you to run out the fields that day had done my job for me. Perhaps that was me being lazy, perhaps that was me taking the easy way out, but the good part was that it started off what was pulling you away from me.

I had never felt my heart ache so much after seeing the tears stream down your face, the ache only worsening as time went on and I couldn’t do anything to resolve it but rather, the things I was about to do were probably going to make it even worse. I’m sure it did; I didn’t expect it to be easy after all this time but I had to remain heartless and strong with this last moment.

Watching you walk away had to have been the hardest thing I had ever encountered; the feeling of emptiness being the only thing I could feel for days on end afterwards and rejecting human contact until I could feel something. I longed to see your lips turn upwards to smile widely at me, pulling me into an everlasting enchantment. I longed to be suffocated by your endless love. Wasn’t that strange?

5. CRYBABY.

The soft rain pattered against the window of the cafe that you were sitting at, Valentine’s Day decorations displayed all around the grand shop.

Everything was blooming with love along with the freshness of the spring air flowing through your nostrils, sending a rejuvenating chill down your body. With a smile, you rested your chin on your palm whilst awaiting your date to come and whisk you away.

The bells on the door caught your attention, making you spin around with a smile on your face and your eyes glistening with sparkles.

The excited look on your face only dims when you see the wide smile on his pink lips as he walks in. Your eyes immediately notice the new bright blond locks of his hair flattened against his forehead, and his dark brown orbs finally meeting yours.

Your mouth is open agape, as you stare at the boy at the door while he stares at you as well.

For a moment, you turn back around, as if to dismiss that shared moment with one another and ignore the way the world had paused for you two but the universe must have other plans since Jaeyun walks over to your table and takes a seat in front of you.

Although it's only been a few months, the feeling of being sat with one another is so unfamiliarly strange, until he cracks that smile, “How do you like my hair?”

“It suits you,” You say admiring the colour on him. “Why are you here, Jake?”

Ouch. His heart sinks, evidently since his smile falters.

“Jake, huh?” You swear you hear his voice break.

You almost laugh at him, “Well, I figured I should call you what your playthings called you, since I was one of them, after all.”

“Y/n-”

“Save it. There’s nothing left to say,” You shrug, taking your things. “I don’t know why you’re here, nor do I care. But, leave me alone.”

As you walk out of the shop, the bell announcing your departure, Jake follows after you.

“Y/n, let me explain!” He calls after you.

Your bag is slung over your head to stop the rain from hitting your face annoyingly until Jake drapes his hoodie over your head, revealing his bare arms from the white tee shirt he's wearing. Immediately, the smell of his cologne wafts through your nostrils, sending you in half a trance and halting your movements. In that moment, you’re back a few months ago when your entire being was enhanced by Sim Jaeyun.

“What is there left to say, Jake?” You scream into the rain. Jake stares at you, wondering if the droplets down your face are tears or the rain. Soon enough, he figures out that it's your tears, and there goes the stab feeling at his heart once more.

“I want this back,” Jake spits out. He runs a hand through his hair, catching his thoughts. “I can’t live without you. Every morning, I wake up to an empty feeling in my heart, the same feeling that I sleep with at night while I think only of you. You came into my life so suddenly, I didn’t realise how much I needed you. Well, I did, but I was so scared by it. When I found out you were going to be spending Valentine’s with someone else, I felt a part of me just.. break. I can’t do this without you. You have to believe me.”

Jake takes a step closer and takes your hand in his, awaiting your response to his serenade of love. It feels as though years have passed when you make a movement.

Pushing Jake's hand off yours, you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

The earnest, pleading look in his eyes almost convinced you to stay, but you knew better. You knew better than to fall for this again. You didn't doubt that Jake’s feelings for you were genuine, but you definitely questioned if they would end up in flames again. That was a risk you weren’t willing to take.

Ultimately, you were wiser than your heart therefore, you chose not to fall into the dark abyss of Sim Jaeyun again. It was a choice laced with agony and heartburn but it was a necessary choice for the sake of your heart.

You hoped that, one day, when Jake was better for you, he would be brought back to you as someone you could build something with. But, now was not the time.

Jake watches you walk away for the second time, knowing this time it’s definitely the last time. Pools of tears start to leave his eyes as he clutches his heart. With every step you take away from him, a piece of his heart is carried with you and he wondered if these pieces will ever return to him.

He wondered how cupid could be this cruel and if he could ever get over the mistake that lost him you. He knew that cupid’s mistake was going to leave a permanent imprint on his entire being for the rest of his life, but he knew it far too late.

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macfrog · 10 months

Text

company cowboy like me chapter six

lfg i am so happy to finally be back writing!!! here's a new part of cowboy like me to celebrate - you can also catch parts one thru five over on my masterlist 🤍 love u all lmk ur thoughts whose side are we on with the argument? 😏

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel and his hands help you feel better after an argument with your dad

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! shower fun, handjob, fingering, bit of comeplay, like, allusions to exhibitionism?? not rly tho, dom!joel, unprotected p in v sex (i do not condone it unless it is fictional), praise kink, overstimulation, begging, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, grilled cheese consumption (for all my lactose intolerant babies i got u)

word count: 8.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Please let me cum, promise I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.” He laughs, some smug, cocky laugh. If you had a sliver of energy and half the feeling in your body, you’d bat his arm. “Don’t want you to be quiet, angel. You wanted to get caught, remember? Get us caught, then. Let ‘em all hear just what you’re up to.” “No,” you moan, head shaking, “don’t wanna get caught. Just w-wanna cum. Please, Joel…”

The birds singing. A car passing by on the street outside. The dull buzz of the shower running, and the gentle humming of the man standing in it. Whichever one wakes you first, you don’t much care. Your eyes have fluttered open to find the bathroom door half-open, the steamed-up shower right ahead of you.

You can see his silhouette moving around. Hands raising to rub shampoo into his hair. Dipping to push soap suds down the trail from his belly button. You’re half-naked in his bed, still sore from your antics from the night before, and he’s winding that coil all over again. Just from showering.

You push yourself off the bed with a groan. Your thighs burn as you move them; between your legs feels just as tender. His t-shirt hangs off you.

You slowly wander over to the bathroom door and pause to listen. It’s one of his country songs he’s always playing in the truck. And this man swears he ain’t a country fan.

Your head leans against the doorframe. One gentle push and he’ll know you’re right here.

The t-shirt comes off in one swift movement, and in you go.

“Mornin’, baby,” he coos as you walk over the threshold. When he peers around the steamed-up glass, he notices your lack of clothing, and mumbles an Oh as you step inside.

“What time does Sarah’s flight get in?” you ask innocently. His eyes are making their way slowly down your figure.

“An–” He clears his throat. “An hour.”

“You got time, then?”

He smirks as you soak yourself under the hot stream of water, and says, “Always got time for you.”

Your hands cup his strong jaw and pull him down to you. He obliges, lips parting to crash against yours. Tongues twisting and curling around one another, hands squeezing and scratching and stroking bodies. His palms find your tits and he squeezes, pulling a moan from your lips.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he murmurs against your lips.

You smile back into the kiss, replying, “It’s all your fault.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” your hand starts travelling south, “got – me – fuck – all ruined.”

Joel’s already hard when your hands take hold of him. Like, fucking hard. So hard you actually look down as you grip him with both hands, awestruck by how quickly he’s turned on. When you look back up, a cocky smile fills his cheeks.

“Get goin’ then. I ain’t got all mornin’.”

“Fuck you.” You drag your hand up his length.

“That’s what I got you for,” he breathes, leaning his head back against the tile, eyes closing.

This is the part you like. Sure, Joel’s hot when he’s being dominant, fucking you senseless, whispering filth in your ear, even just the way his hands grip your body. But this – when he’s under your hand, right where you want him, right where he wants to be. This is it for you.

Watching him unravel at your touch, the way you squeeze him, pull him, take care of him; your words, sweet and smooth as honey in his ear, asking how good it feels, telling him how good he looks, peppering wet kisses down his neck and across his chest; and then, when he’s close, the way he pants and takes hold of your wrist, telling you without speaking exactly how to fuckin’ get him there.

When you feel his hips buck, you sink to your knees and hold the head of his cock on your tongue. He tilts his head to look down at you, mouth agape, hand on the back of your head. You stroke his length a few more times, the tip swirling over your pink lips, before he grunts, releasing all over your tongue, watching as you take every last drop.

“Good girl…” he whispers, over and over until he goes limp. You never take your eyes off of him as you lick your lips and swallow. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

When he comes down from his high, Joel takes your hands and pulls you back up to stand. He lazily bumps his nose against yours and then pulls you in, filling your mouth with his tongue. He groans into the kiss, tangling his hand in your hair, tasting himself on you.

“You know how good you are to me?”

Your face lights up when you look up at him. You could almost say something you think you’d regret afterward. When the wave of bravery washes down the drain with the water from above, you settle for your usual cocky teasing: “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

He laughs and turns you gently so your back is to him. He shifts your wet hair out of the way, and then begins to massage your shoulders. His hands drop down your arms, squeezing and rubbing, then back up, feeling their way over your breasts and down your stomach.

“Gonna make you feel nice ‘n better, after last night.”

Your lips fall open, silently begging him not to stop, to keep going further down, to fuck you with his fingers against the cool tile.

You forget he’s a mind reader. He’s already doing it before your thought is done.

Fingers run over your clit, already sensitive and swollen, and you gasp.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he whispers in your ear.

Your head falls back to his shoulder with a moan, and he kisses your neck, sucking softly on the sensitive spots that were between his teeth last night. His fingers rub you gently.

“So pretty for me, baby.”

You can feel your legs starting to give, but his free arm wraps around your waist, holding you up so that, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t collapse.

His fingers dip lower still, parting your lips, running through your folds. He’s so good, you think you might be dreaming. Then he inserts a curled finger and you know for sure, this is no dream.

“Joel…”

You squirm under his touch, and it only pushes him further. A second finger, stretching you out more, pressing up against the soft, spongey insides of your pussy. You grip onto his arm snaked around your waist with one hand, place the other against the tile to steady yourself.

“Doin’ so good, baby, that’s it. Just like that.” His voice is as smooth as whiskey in your ear, the drawl of his accent sending you as far as the fingers hooked inside your cunt.

Your breathing starts to stammer, your stomach tightening with your orgasm fast approaching. Joel inserts a third finger, making you cry out, and your head knocks into his shoulder again. Pleasure sparks between your legs, the weight of you riding on Joel’s hand, fire igniting through every nerve in your body.

“‘attagirl, all over me,” Joel coaches you through it, his other hand forced to let go of your waist to steady you both against the wall as your release doubles you over.

You come back to earth; stars in your vision, feeling the weight of him on your back, protecting you from the spray of water from the shower, chin still dipped over your shoulder.

“We’re good at this,” he whispers, and you give a blissful smile. “One day they’ll make a movie about us.”

You come back to reality with a hearty laugh, turning back around slowly. Joel’s arms snake around your waist and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

“Maybe one day we could do that ourselves,” you tease.

He gives a smile which means more than it looks. You’re a mind reader, too. He likes that idea. He’s…considering it.

“I gotta go,” Joel says after some time.

You nod.

He follows you out of the shower and hands you the towel he’d sat on the counter for himself, dripping off to the linen closet in the hallway for another while you pat yourself dry. You scoop up his shirt and throw it over yourself, laying back down on his bed to wait for him finishing up getting ready.

Another thing you love doing: watching him. Whether he’s driving, grabbing a beer from the fridge, or just getting dressed like right now, you like to watch him. Study him. Know him better than he knows himself.

He doesn’t typically let you watch him do much – his hands are usually all over you with the precious little time you two get together – and when he clocks you staring over at him as he buckles his belt, he snorts.

“Besotted, ain’tcha?”

He stands at the foot of the bed. You say nothing back. Then he begins crawling up, knees apart to climb over your legs, and crouches over you as you giggle.

His head drops down to give you one last meaningful kiss before you know he has to leave. When you part, his forehead leans against yours.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” he softly says.

You don’t have a reply. At least, not one you want him to hear. Yet.

“Go pick up Sarah. I’ll be gone when you come back.”

He stands, and you take his offered hand to pull yourself up from the bed.

“Don’t have to be. I’ll tell her you wanted to surprise her.”

You shake your head. “I got work later anyways. And y’all deserve some time alone to catch up. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Okay, darlin’,” he says in a mocking baby tone, pouting his lips. Pulls you in for a quick squeeze. Then turns and wanders off down the hall to the top of the stairs.

“How will you cope without being the center of my attention?” he calls back.

You smile to yourself and watch as his figure disappears. You stand on his carpet, still, silent, until the front door shuts and his truck engine hums in the drive.

Your eyes travel around his room. His unmade bed, one big dip in the middle of the mattress where your bodies had been pressed together, limbs intertwined, sharing breath. The small pile of your clothes Joel had laid out as you dozed, neatly tucked on a dresser, your phone laying on top. A framed photo of him and Sarah on his windowsill that makes your chest tighten when your eyes find it.

You turn away and start getting ready, picking up your clothes one by one. Your panties are missing – not that they’d be much use anyways, the last state you saw them in. It’d be hot to go commando if you thought Joel might find out; less hot when you’re just about to head off on a walk of shame back to your dad’s.

You wander around to Joel’s nightstand and roll the drawer open. Pick up a pair of white boxers and pull them on. As you leave, you throw his tee over your elbow.

He won’t notice it’s gone, right?

----------

You’re perched on your window seat, watching the quiet street below. It’s been two days since you last saw Joel, strolling down his hallway to go pick up Sarah. You’d been working the past couple days anyway, but your mind had been elsewhere.

You and Joel weren’t able to see each other for obvious reasons, but he was always at the end of the phone whenever you were bored and wanted attention. Truthfully, you’d spent every waking minute hanging over your cell, waiting for it to light up with a message or call from him.

You unlock it and scroll through the last few texts you’d exchanged.

Joel: Decorations were a hit. Should be all over Instagram or whatever

You: You’re welcome ;)

Joel: Don’t I get any credit?

You: You can take the credit for blowing my back out afterward. Let me have the decs

Joel: Fair.

You smile, reading back over the messages. You’d been trying not to bother him so much now that Sarah was back, but you’re struggling to find anything to distract your thoughts from him. What he’s up to, where he is, who he’s with…and not even in a jealous way. Just…because you miss him.

That’s the weird part. Missing him.

Sure, for the last two weeks, anytime your hands have been on your body, it’s Joel’s name passing your lips in breathy moans. But missing the sound of his voice? The smell of him?

That’s new. That’s weird.

There’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

Your dad nudges in, toolbox in hand. “Hey, hon. Just thought I’d have a look at that latch on your window that keeps catchin’.”

“Oh,” you say, shifting from your seat. “Sure. Thanks.”

He sets the toolbox at the end of your bed, and you shift some cushions and blankets to sit beside it. As he’s digging through his tools, he glances up and notices the men’s large t-shirt laying strewn across your pillows.

“New shirt?” he asks.

You look over your shoulder. Fuck.

“Texas Rangers.” Your dad raises his eyebrows, nodding. “Impressed.”

“Yeah, I– I, uh…” You’re scrambling for some excuse, words tripping over one another in the scram to explain. “Got it at a thrift store the other day. It’s nice to sleep in, I guess.”

He hums and then turns, completely oblivious. “Might head over to Joel’s once I’ve done this, since I got the tools out. He has some pipe in his bathroom he reckons is leakin’. You wanna come? See Sarah for a bit?”

“Maybe…” you hum, not really listening. You’re typing a message out to Joel.

You: My dad just totally spotted your shirt on my bed…

Joel: So you’ve got my shirt? I was looking all over for it.

You: Is it really that much of a surprise? Had to say I’d thrifted it

Joel: Offended by the fact you wanted him to believe anyone would throw out a Rangers shirt

You: Well, he believed it, so what does that tell you, cowboy?

Joel: Given what we know your dad’s oblivious to right now, not a lot, kid

You: Speaking of, when can I see you?

Joel: Tough right now with Sarah being home. Sorry baby. Soon as we can, I promise.

You throw yourself back onto your bed with a sigh.

“Boy trouble?” your dad asks.

“Huh?” You sit up straight. What…the fuck?

He chuckles, messing around with the window, his back turned to you. “Awfully big sigh. I know that sigh. Who is he?”

If Joel were in the room right now, he’d be masking his laughter behind a closed fist at the mere sight of your face. You stare at your dad’s back for a decent amount of time, long enough for him to turn back and look at you.

“You hearin’ me?” he asks. “It someone I know? It ain’t your friend Sam from Frank’s, is it? That boy don’t know his hand from his foot at the best ’a times. You can do better than him.”

“It ain’t a boy. And I appreciate the advice, but I’m good, Dad.”

“Speakin’ of advice…” He walks slowly over to the bed, switching out some tools. “I got this supplier whose daughter works in human resources at…uh…some company, downtown. Name escapes me. He was tellin’ me it’s good money, lotta hours…Said she’d be happy to meet with you if you wanted to go in for an interview.”

“I…I’m okay, I think. Thanks, though.”

“Sure? I thought maybe you’d wanna be lookin’ for something a little more…permanent.”

“I will,” you reply, glancing down at your phone. No new messages. “I just…I’m happy at Sal’s right now.”

“Right, right. And Sal’s been real good to you, kiddo.”

“I kinda wanna see what I can get with my degree anyway.”

Your thumbs dance over the keyboard, still hunting for attention from Joel, and searching for the right words to get it. You’re barely even present in the room with your dad when you hear him ask, “Film? You really think there’s gonna be much out there?”

Your head whips up. He’s sauntering back over to the window. Your phone lands with a thud on your bed beside your thigh.

“Uh…I don’t know. ‘s why I wanna look.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

He shakes his head, screwing something into your window frame. “Naw, I just…don’t know what you’re gonna find, is all.” He chuckles a little. Kinda chuckle that makes your fists ball.

You watch him through thin eyes, pulling your bottom lip under your teeth. “Well, I got Sal’s to keep me goin’ until I do find somethin’.”

Your dad doesn’t reply. You stare him down until he turns around, notices you, and raises his brows, forehead crinkling.

When he dives back into the toolbox instead of responding, you start to feel heat in your belly.

You speak through your teeth. “Is that…Is it okay?”

“Sure, hon. I ain’t tellin’ you what to do.”

“Well, you ain’t tellin’ me much else, though, so…”

“I’m only thinking,” he lifts his palms, your eyes trace them, “your degree is very specific. And there maybe isn’t a lot of specific work down this way for somethin’ like film. That’s all. I thought HR might be a good move.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s closing over the metal lid.

“Then why’d I go through four years of studying it?”

“Because it interested you. And because you were good at it–”

“So, shouldn’t I be doin’ something with it?”

“–but ultimately, hon, a degree’s just a degree, you understand?”

Your face screws up, lip curled. “Huh?”

“Lotta folks don’t got a degree. Lotta folks get one, and it goes to waste. They spend all that money, all that time…and work part-time in some dead-end job for the rest of their lives. Chasin’ a career that’s never comin’.”

You choke back a laugh, a stunned, confused, livid laugh. Your lips tremble and twist in and out of different shapes, trying to form words that your voice won’t speak.

“You worked damn hard to get that degree. Now, use it. Use it right.”

He slaps the toolbox closed and starts trotting out of your room, and you find your voice.

“Oh, screw you!”

Your dad’s hand hooks around the doorframe and he turns back. “Pardon me?”

“What fuckin’ right do you have to tell me I’m gonna end up in a dead-end job? Ain’t a job a job?”

“Woah, kiddo,” he holds a hand out, “no, no, that’s not what I’m sayin’. Not at all.”

“You’re saying I should give up tryna get a job I actually want, and get a real job, right? That– That film ain’t much of a thing? I worked my ass off for nothin’?”

“No, you worked your ass off for everything, and you deserve to find somethin’ that rewards all your hard work.”

“Oh, what the fuck does that even mean?” You throw your arms up, striding across the room.

He shakes his head with a sigh. “It means – I just want what’s best for you. I was just thinkin’ out loud, honey. That’s all.”

In one sweep, he’s gone. The toolbox rattles down the hall and recedes into background noise. You’re stood in a cloud of rage at your door, breath coming hard and fast out of your nose, staring at the empty hallway before you.

You stalk over to your bed and your thumbs finally figure out what to send to Joel.

You: Are you free to talk real quick??

He’s calling you within thirty seconds.

“What’s up?” his voice speaks before you even open your mouth, and instantly you feel yourself calming.

“Are you eating?”

“Mhm. Grilled cheese.”

You can hear the chewing sounds through the receiver.

“You mind swallowing before you talk?”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he chuckles a little, then clears his throat. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just…” You sigh. “Fuck…I don’t even know.”

Your head falls into one hand as you pace back and forth.

“I had this argument with my dad; he’s goin’ on about careers and jobs and using my degree – but to do somethin’ I don’t wanna do. Then, he’s makin’ out like I’ll never find a job in film, or in anything I want. And he said that– He basically said that I’ll be in a dead-end job forever, ‘less I go work in human resources.”

Joel’s quiet for a few seconds until he realizes you’re done. “’sec, baby, I got a mouthful of grilled cheese over here.”

You roll your eyes and, after a gulp, his voice floats back through your phone.

“He wants you to– Human resources, I hear that right?”

“Yup. He says it’s a good place to be, apparently.”

“Your dad, the contractor?”

You throw your arm up in the air again. “Thank you!”

Joel and his laughter cut you short before you start another rant.

“Alright, alright, first of all…you already got a job, and it’s a good, steady job; you like it, you’re happy enough there, right?”

“Mhm,” you agree.

“Mhm. So that’s not an issue. Second, you’re twenty-three. That’s still young, darlin’. You got your whole life to try and find somethin’ you really like. Hell, I didn’t figure it out until I had Sarah. You got time. Don’t worry about it.

“And third: who gives a fuck what your dad thinks? If you’re happy, what’s it matter what him or anyone else says?”

You nod, sitting down on your bed. Your eyes are starting to well.

“Hm?” Joel beckons.

“Yeah,” you squeak.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little mind, baby. It was just an argument. He wants what’s best for you, ‘n if I know him half as well as I do, he just got his words a little jumbled up.”

“I’m still fuckin’ mad at him, though,” you mumble.

Joel laughs. “Yeah. ‘n I reckon you’re allowed to be, for a little bit.”

“Thanks. Sorry for interruptin’ you ‘n your grilled cheese.”

“’s alright. I gotta make you one of these next time you’re over here, I’m a master at ‘em. Sarah’s favorite.”

You lay back on your bed, giggling. “I’m gonna hold you to that, y’know.”

“Oh, I know, kid. Hey, I was actually thinking of dropping by tomorrow mornin’, got some papers your dad wants to take a look at. Figured I’d catch ‘im before he goes off to work.”

You feel your heart swell just at the thought of him being in front of you, actually in person, standing right there. Cotton-covered chest to be touched, worked hands to be held, rough but gentle lips to be kissed.

Hard cock to be – never mind.

“Yeah?” you say, coolly, trying not to let him in on the butterflies swirling around your stomach.

“Yep. Better be awake. I’ll want my t-shirt back.”

“Setting my alarm as we speak.”

----------

You’re in the kitchen making breakfast when you hear the front door open, and an all too familiar Texas drawl.

“Anybody home?”

You lean back from the counter and stare down the hallway toward the door, which he closes and turns to face you.

“Hello, darlin’.”

“Hi,” you mutter, smiling.

“Dad in?”

You nod. “Upstairs. Getting ready.”

His fingers tug on your t-shirt sleeve. His t-shirt sleeve.

“Nice shirt.”

You give a bashful smile, but he’s grinning. The fucker loves seeing you in his clothes as much as you love wearing them. He doesn’t care.

Joel sets his papers on the countertop and runs a hand through your hair, sweeping it out of your face. You lean into his touch by instinct, then catch yourself, and move away, but Joel stays where he is.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Mhm. Want some cereal?”

He smiles, shaking his head, then lowers his chin and softly presses his lips to yours.

Your hands drop the box like it’s scorching hot, and link around his neck. He pushes against you, pinning you to the counter.

If it weren’t for the thudding of your dad’s footsteps down the stairs right then, you’d probably ask Joel to fuck you right here and now in your kitchen. You’re that needy.

“Hey, partner,” your dad calls when he notices Joel, now standing a good four feet away from you, papers back in his fist.

You pour some milk in the bowl and lean back against the island, cereal in hand.

“Brought that paperwork.” Joel lifts his fist, and your dad nods gratefully.

“Hey,” your dad says, turning to you and knocking your shoulder with his index finger. “Here’s the number of that guy’s daughter I was talkin’ about…”

You take a deep breath, studying the card in his hand, the name Vanessa Hart printed below some logo. Joel notices your expression when your dad holds it out between two fingers. He knows y’all fought – though he’s not meant to – but he doesn’t know you two haven’t spoken since. You ate dinner in your room alone last night.

The look in your eye catches him up just fine.

“What’s this?” Joel asks, returning the papers to the counter behind you and taking the business card from your dad’s hand. He tosses it over before passing to you. You wordlessly take it, sliding your bowl alongside his paperwork.

“She’s been thinkin’ about work. Lookin’ around for somethin’ a little more…challenging, than retail anyway. Right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Right.”

Joel looks at you intently. Knowingly. “Thought you wanted to be a journalist, or something? Film…? No?”

You glance up at him. “I, um…”

“This is maybe somethin’ a little more realistic, y’know.” Your dad shifts from foot to foot, almost awkwardly.

“She got a degree in film,” Joel mutters, almost leaning into you to make you answer. Your eyes travel along to his shoulder. “You like film, right?”

“I like film. Yeah. It was good.”

“So, you don’t wanna do somethin’ with that?”

Your shoulders tense as you look up at him, trying to answer him honestly and at the same time, stop another heated discussion from happening between you and your dad, who then initiates that discussion himself by piping up.

“What’s Sarah doin’, again, Joel?”

You wince, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Sports Science.” Joel’s voice feels dangerous. He’s still staring at you. Vanessa’s card is beginning to tremble in your hands as you flip it over and over.

“See? Now, that, I would understand. That’s a great degree. Not that yours isn’t,” your dad shoots you a look as he’s packing his lunch into his bag, “just that, with Sports Science, I mean…she could do lotsa stuff.”

“I could do lots with film, too, Dad.” You try to mask the anger through your teeth.

“Like what?”

Joel sighs under his breath. Your eyes dart across his. You take a deep breath, steady yourself.

“Like…journalism, or production, or promotion. Lots of behind-the-scenes stuff.”

“I’m just tryna look out for you, kiddo, just tryna be realistic. Like I said last night, there aren’t so many opportunities in that sorta stuff down here. Fine, up in New York, but in Austin? Nah.”

“Maybe you just gotta move back to New York. I’ll come with ya,” Joel says, shrugging, with an expression that elicits a laugh from you. He looks relieved to see you smile.

Your dad clears his throat and takes a step closer to you. Your smile fades as quickly as it appeared.

“I just want what’s best for you. The arts…ain’t really a steady job. Somethin’ like Sports Science, see, now, that’s safe. That’s a good choice.”

“A good choice,” you echo, your face flushing. “So, mine wasn’t a good choice?”

“No, it’s just that–”

“Why are we havin’ this same conversation again, Dad?” You throw the card behind you on the counter. “I said I’d do my own thing, in my own time, and you come up with even more to shove in my damn face. You can’t just leave it? Not even for one day?”

“Aw, c’mon, hon, film? Tell me what you found, lookin’ for jobs in film. Go on.”

Joel’s head cocks and he holds a hand out. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“No, tell me. I’m seriously askin’. What did you find? ‘cause I’ve been lookin’, kiddo–”

You scoff. “Oh, you’ve been looking.”

“Yes, I have, which seems to be a damn sight more ‘n you’ve done, and there ain’t nothin’. Now, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I thought I was doin’ a good thing. Thought you’d appreciate me helpin’ out.”

“Sure. I appreciate you steppin’ foot where you ain’t wanted. And then insulting me while you’re at it.”

Your dad sighs and lifts his arms, bringing them down onto his thighs with a clap. Then he picks his bag up, slings it over his shoulder, and turns back to you.

“I just wanted to help. I’m gone, alright? Joel, thanks for those, I’ll take a look when I’m home.”

Without another word, he strides down the hall and heads out the front door.

Joel’s hand immediately wraps around your arm.

“Hey,” he says when you turn away, tears forming. “Woah, hey. It’s alright.”

He pulls you into his chest and rests his chin on your head, and you bury your face into his shirt, groaning with rage. He rubs the back of your head and hushes you as you weep into his chest.

He pulls away, cupping your chin and pushing the hair out of your face. You’re still bubbling away, Joel’s thumbs wiping away tears hot with anger from your cheeks.

“I’m not crying ‘cause I’m upset,” you sniff, and he nods, softly caressing your face. “I’m crying ‘cause I’m fuckin’ angry.”

“I know, baby,” he fusses. “He’s bein’ an ass, no doubt about that.”

“I told you.” You ball your fists and lightly bump them against his strong chest. “Fuckin’ dick.”

“Fuckin’ dick,” Joel agrees, and you laugh. “Tell me what to do to make you feel better.”

You lean back, Joel’s hand locked around yours to stop you from falling. A dark thought crosses your mind, and you do your best not to let it show through your eyes. Joel seems oblivious when he reels you in and your hands come to rest on his pecs.

“I dunno,” you mumble, eyes stuck on the fabric of his shirt.

“Must be somethin’. What do you want me to do?”

“Just…stick around for a bit? Keep me company.”

“Company, huh? What’s that entail?”

“We could…watch a movie?” Your fingers flirt with the collar of his open shirt. “…could…talk…?”

Joel studies you as you slowly peel the button-up from his shoulders, letting it rest on his biceps.

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, realizing where you’re at, “I got stuff I should be doin’ today.”

“I know. Just…make me feel better first.”

He sighs, looking at you from beneath his brows. His shirt is hanging from his elbows, his palms planted firmly against your waist. His hands are squeezing you just enough to encourage you to keep going.

“Won’t be long. Promise. You can have your shirt back, after it.”

You angle your jaw and smile sweetly at him, and he lowers his to meet you halfway. Your breath hot against his lips, you whisper, “’s not like either of us are gonna last longer than five minutes, anyway,” and he closes the space between you.

When your lips connect, Joel pushes off the counter and begins backing you toward the couch.

“I love,” you breathe into the kiss, “when you do that.”

“Do what?” he mutters back, lifting the hem of your top.

You fall back onto the couch and Joel follows.

“Give in to me.”

He pulls back, eyes skimming across your half-naked body, t-shirt ruffled up to the bottom of your bare breasts.

“That’s all I do, baby.”

You open your legs beneath him and his hips slot between yours, hardening jeans rubbing against your sleep shorts. His tongue leaves wet marks down your neck and across your collarbone, hands creeping further up your naked torso.

When you buck your hips, Joel understands, and takes the waist of your shorts in tight fists, pulling them off your legs in one movement. His hand comes down to cup your sex and shift your underwear aside. He’s moving without thinking; it’s instinct by this point. He knows exactly what to do to get you where he wants you.

His fingers move around your folds, dancing in and out of your entrance, rubbing your clit. It’s not enough. It’s never fucking enough. You whine, and he listens again, slipping two fingers inside your wet cunt.

Your back arches, chest rising to meet his. A sigh of relief passes your lips, finally feeling his body on – and in – yours again.

“We– I don’t wanna– fucking hell, Joel– I can’t wait this long for you,” you whimper, as he dips his jaw to suck a bruise into your neck.

“Hm?”

“Too – fucking – long. I need you – all the fuckin’ time.”

He’s humming against your hot skin. Your fingers are knotting in his hair, dark brown flecked with streaks of gray tangled around your knuckles.

His fingers burrow deeper, stretching your wet pussy out just right. You clench around him.

“Need you,” you breathe again, “all the time.”

“You got me, pretty girl,” Joel coos, lips now dancing across yours. “I’m here now.”

Your foreheads lock like they always do, Joel’s eyes trained on yours like they always are. He fucking loves watching you, loves the way your eyes glaze over and you submit to whatever he wants to do to you. I started it, and I know how to finish it.

His thumb begins to rub your clit, pad drawing circles around and round. Your hips lift again in response, and you feel a smirk pull on Joel’s lips. You’re writhing under his touch, the entire room filling with filthy moans of his name and of yours, tangling together in the air and knotting as tight as the pressure building in your stomach.

You reach down and begin to unbuckle his belt, hands weaving around Joel’s wrist to gain access to his jeans. Your fingers graze the rough teeth of his zipper when you hear something outside.

The sound of a car door slamming.

Your lips freeze against Joel’s. His hand stops dead against your core.

“Was that–?”

The front door bursts open and the hallway fills with the early morning light.

Joel heaves himself off of you, scarpering to the other side of the room as you straighten up, slam your sensitive legs closed and kick your shorts under the couch. Your tee is long enough to cover your thighs, only if you stay seated.

Your dad rounds the corner to the room just as you both assume position.

“Joel still around? His truck’s– Oh, hey, bud. What the hell you still doin’ here?”

Joel clears his throat. “She, uh– She said somethin’ was up with the TV. Bad signal or somethin’, right?”

“Right.” You nod almost furiously.

Your dad blinks. Looks from you, to Joel, to the TV behind him. Which is switched off.

You toe the line between still mad at your dad, and wanting to appear totally innocent. “Joel was just having a look. He, uh…switched it off.”

“Waitin’ for it to reboot.” Joel sways back to hold a steady – slick-covered – hand to the TV set. You wince as he notices your gleaming wet coating his fingers, unreadable expression on his face, and calmly holds them behind his back.

“That so?” your dad says, pouting his lips. “I didn’t notice anything last night.”

Joel doesn’t reply, instead choosing to let the moment pass in awkward silence until your dad changes the subject. Joel knows him better than most, and it works in the end, but you wish he’d just fucking say something to take your mind off of the hand he’s currently hiding behind his back and your shorts disturbing the dust under the couch.

“Left my hardhat,” your dad says, almost flatly. “You seen it, kiddo?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“You wanna help me look?”

Right now? With no pants on? And your best friend stood less than six feet away? You know what, I’m good, Dad.

“Not really.”

He sighs and shakes his head to Joel, a Can you believe her?

Joel sputters out a forced chuckle, which he cuts short when he notices your sharp glare in his direction.

When your dad disappears upstairs, you fish your shorts out and throw them on.

“That,” Joel leans into you, motioning to where your dad was just standing, “was too damn close, you hear?”

“How was I supposed to know he’d come back?” you hiss.

“If we’re–” another flappy hand movement between the two of you, “y’know, we gotta be on alert for any–”

“We–” you mimic his gesture, “thought we had an empty house. If he walks in on somethin’, then that’s–”

“Don’t tell me that’s on him, kid.” Joel tilts his head, inviting you to finish your sentence with something more sensible. Before you can answer, your dad calls out.

“Got it!”

His boots thud back down the stairs.

You and Joel spring back to your positions, an unassuming two meters of carpet separating you both. Your dad stands at the opposite end of the coffee table, holding his hardhat up like it’s a trophy.

“Alright,” you clap your hands, “see ya, then.”

You brush past him toward the kitchen, feigning grabbing a drink. In your wake, you hear him mumble something to Joel about you not forgiving him just yet. Joel doesn’t laugh.

Eventually, he doddles off to the door, and Joel slowly follows. You hear the click of the door handle, and the hallway floods with light again, tile floor painted with Joel’s silhouette. When the sound of the engine trudges off into the distance, the door slams shut, and his figure materializes beside you once again.

You’re holding a bottle of water against your lips. Not drinking. Joel takes the bottle and sets it down on the counter.

He doesn’t speak. Barely even looks at you. Just takes your waist and hoists you up onto the kitchen counter. It’s cold under your bare thighs, but he lifts your knees and tugs at the waistband of your shorts, slipping them off for the second time in, what, ten minutes?

You sit still and watch him, stood between your legs, looking you up and down. His gaze falls to his still soaked fingers, and with a blank expression, like it’s as normal as passing you the sauce over dinner, he lifts his hand.

“Wanna clean up your mess for me?”

He presses the pads of his fingers to your bottom lip. Asks you without words to part them.

Your mouth falls open, not because you tell it to, but because his words pour a fog over your entire body that dumbs you senseless. That same intoxicating drawl, the way his head tilts with every perfectly innocent question laced with just the right amount of filth to have you do whatever the fuck he tells you.

He pushes his fingers into your mouth, resting them on your tongue.

“Now, pretty girl. Put that mouth to good use.”

“Joel–” you mumble into his knuckles, but he shushes you.

“Clean. Them.”

In a fluttering haze, you close your mouth around his thick fingers and suck, tongue slipping over them, under, between. Joel watches almost dangerously, like a wild animal watching its prey. He’s focused entirely on your wet lips, the way they’re bobbing up and down over his knuckles.

His fingers are sweet, coated in your thick arousal, and when you loosen your jaw, he pushes them in further. Almost chokes you with the way he forces them back. His eyes are dark, clouded over by the way your pretty little mouth looks. The way it feels, choking and spitting all over him.

When your eyes close over, his free hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

“Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, and your eyes flutter back open; light seeps into your vision and chases everything but the man between your legs out of focus.

You can’t taste yourself on him anymore. He tastes like Joel again. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers hit the back of your throat, and he only withdraws them when you gag.

He slips out, soaked in your saliva, and his wet hand falls back to place on your thigh.

You’re breathing heavily, drool dripping from your lips, but you know for a fucking fact if you move to wipe it, he’ll stop you.

His grip on the back of your neck tightens suddenly.

“You wanna act like a little whore? You get treated like one.”

His hand moves to his waistband and he undoes his own belt, batting away your fingers when you try to help.

He lets you link your arms over his shoulders as he messily unzips his jeans, tugging them down only a little. His rough hand grabs your knee and hooks it over his elbow, opening your legs wide for him.

“J…”

“Shut up.”

Now’s not the time for talking. He’s got a glassy expression in his eye that you don’t recognize. He doesn’t want to fucking talk. He wants you to make him cum.

“Wanted me to fuck you on your dad’s couch, huh? Wanted to make a mess in his livin’ room?”

“Mhm,” you whine, and he lifts your ass up to bring a hand down on it. Shut up.

“’n what if he’d walked in a few minutes later than he did? Saw the pair of us? That what you want?”

You bite your lip and look at him under hooded lids; answer enough. Nah, you didn’t want your dad to see you guys. But, fuck, you liked the thought of being caught.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he’s murmuring, lining up to your cunt, pre-cum soaking the reddened tip of his cock. You’re staring at it, mesmerized, mind totally blanked by it.

“Look at you,” he whispers roughly, “drunk on it, aren’t you darlin’? You want it inside you?”

You nod, but it doesn’t matter. The slightest movement of your head and he’s pushing inside you, stretching your tight hole around the thick head of his cock.

Joel groans and his head falls back, eyes on the ceiling. He makes it halfway in before he’s pulling back again.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Shut – the fuck – up,” he replies, hips pushing forward into yours again.

You bite back a whine as he pushes further and further, filling you up, pain and pleasure and fucking bliss rippling through you, driven by Joel.

He wastes no time letting you adjust, no long, slow strokes. No tender kisses or fingers guiding his dick in. He picks up a dangerous pace from the outset, hips snapping into yours, bouncing you against the kitchen counter.

This is what this is, isn’t it? This whole thing between you guys. You have needs; Joel has needs. You’re just both coincidentally very good at helping the other meet their needs. What’s wrong with that, right?

Your head starts to swim with the feeling of Joel’s cock spearing you, the image of your kitchen floating in and out of focus, the thought of being one doorway away from being caught. You imagine Marcia in her backyard, almost in plain view of you two right now, seeing you propped up on the counter with your dad’s best friend between your legs, fucking the hell out of you.

And then your eyes find Joel again, beads of sweat at his forehead, cheeks flushed. He meets your lazy gaze and his hand takes your jaw, thumb and finger on each side.

“Good?” he asks, breathless, teeth gritted.

You nod.

Then Joel nods. “Good.” His eyes close over and he fucks you even harder onto his length, hurting so good every time your bodies connect.

The heat is stifling, not from the Texan summer, but from the two of you – sweating, panting, fucking off one another, bodies slipping against and sticking. The air fills thick with your stifled moans, Joel’s bitten grunts, the slapping of skin, your wet mixing with his.

You can’t take it anymore. Your head lulls back with a loud, long moan. Joel knows that moan.

“Think I should let you cum?” he asks. “You think you deserve it?”

“Fuck – please – Joel,” you’re panting, and he spanks your ass again. It doubles you over; your head collapses against his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, contemplating. “Dunno if you do, babygirl.”

“L-let me cum,” you plead, tears falling from your eyes, electricity whirling around your core. Your head rolls around on his strong shoulder. “’m so close.”

“Know you are, darlin’. ‘s too easy to do this to you,” Joel pants, breath jerking each time his hips do. “Get so wound up for me, every damn time.”

“Joel,” you’re begging now, unable to loosen your grip on his shoulders. “Fucking – please.”

“Come over for five minutes and you can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

You whimper in response, the feeling between your legs turning to tightly-wound pain. Your hands have come down to hold onto the edge of the counter, marble cutting into your damp skin under your grip.

“Want to…Want…”

“Tell me, baby. Talk.”

“Want to cum, Joel,” you pine, eyes screwing shut.

“I’m gonna let you, pretty girl. You don’t gotta worry about that. Just gotta ask nicely, huh?”

“Fuck,” you whisper, stars and tears clearing from your vision to reveal him once more. You don’t have the fucking energy to beg him anymore. Not like this. “Please, Joel.”

“Nicer.”

“Please let me cum, promise I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet.”

He laughs, some smug, cocky laugh. If you had a sliver of energy and half the feeling in your body, you’d bat his arm.

“Don’t want you to be quiet, angel. You wanted to get caught, remember? Get us caught, then. Let ‘em all hear just what you’re up to.”

“No,” you moan, head shaking, “don’t wanna get caught. Just w-wanna cum. Please, Joel…”

You shake your head, pathetic beg painted all over your face. Joel’s expression falters, softens, only for a nanosecond, but you know him well enough to notice it. Something in his exterior breaks, something cracks.

“Then why didn’t you fuckin’ say so?” he coos. His arms wrap around you – finally – holding you up against his torso, his lips pressed to your ear. “Come on, darlin’, you can let go.”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before it happens. Your orgasm floods over you, pulsing from your soaking pussy up and across your stomach, lighting your shoulders and tightening your grip on Joel. You bite into his shoulder, muffling a sob as your walls contract, coil snaps, tension relieves.

You fucking hurt. All over. You don’t even feel him pull out, don’t realize he’s gone until he’s pumping cum all over your stomach, jacking himself to the sound of you coming undone. It’s only when you come around and feel the hot wet rolling down your tummy that you notice.

Joel’s breathing is labored. His dark tee has sweat patches under the arms, along his chest. You can feel it on his back.

You lean against him for what feels like hours, legs either side of him, his soft dick on your stomach, cum seeping into your panties. He lets you, just holds you tight and gently sways, listening to your breath slowly steadying, feeling your body stop shaking.

His voice is nothing but vibrations under your cheek, resting safely on his chest. Your ears are still ringing too loud to actually hear the words he says.

When you don’t reply, Joel’s hands cup your cheeks and lift your head to face him. You read the words on his lips.

“Need to know you’re okay before I go.”

“I’m okay,” you mumble.

“Can you walk?”

Your eyes roll back by themselves as he takes a step back, one hand around yours, the other braced in case you fall. You slip off the counter shakily, and, with as much effort as it’d probably take to go for a hike right now in the sun, you stand straight.

“I can take it,” you tell him.

Joel takes a deep breath. “Know you can, baby. Did so well for me.” He tugs his tee down over your stomach to cover the mess he’s made. “You want help cleaning up?”

You give one lazy shake of your head, almost entirely leaning on your shoulder. “I’m gonna head for a shower anyways.”

He takes your shorts and kneels, pulling them back over your legs one by one. You’re bracing yourself on his shoulders, and he stands as he settles them on your waist.

Joel gives your hand a gentle pull and leads you down the hallway. You walk with him, knees weak, to the front door. Joel holds it open and you let go of his fingers to step into the burning sun, hand coming up to shield your eyes. The breath of fresh air wakes you up from your state a little.

“Bright one,” you murmur, as his shoulder comes to meet yours.

“Oh, mornin’, Joel,” Hank calls from the sidewalk as he hobbles by, newspaper under his arm. He sings your name and you nod back in greeting. “You’re both up ‘n about early.”

“Broken TV,” Joel waves back, turning to look at you, “and a few other things needed fixin’.”

Hank nods and keeps walking. When he rounds the corner toward his own house, you glance back at Joel.

“What?” you ask.

“Still wearin’ my shirt.”

“You want it back now? Here ‘n now?”

“If you’re offering a striptease, baby, I’ll take it. Out here or inside, I don’t mind.”

You slap his arm and turn back to head inside. “I’ve had enough of you today.”

“You call me anytime that TV starts playin’ up, darlin’,” he calls over his shoulder.

You blindly throw your middle finger up over your shoulder in response, and feel his strong fingers wrap around your wrist. He tugs you back, and you swirl around to meet his stoic gaze.

“Day or night,” he tells you, “you call me.”

He walks off to his truck.

----------

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lov1ngreid · 5 months

Text

BOYS LIKE YOU | 1

(pairings): highschool!spencer + cheerleader!reader both intended to be 18 in this story

(warnings): none!

(word count): 2.9k

(author’s note): so long i’m so sorry

hii i decided to split this fic into a mini series cause i have so many ideas and directions for it and i didn’t want to squish it into one long fic, some chapters maybe nsfw ;P i also wrote this with high school in mind, of course Spencer is regular high school age and not like twelve 🤨 but if you’d rather picture them in early college go ahead! also I usually HATEEE when fics have outfit inspos but soz I’m forcing you to imagine these outfits they’re so gorg 😭

okay no more rambling!! if u wanna listen to what i did when i wrote this, here you go!! ➘

“That’s what you’re wearing” Your brother brodie snickered from his bedroom as you strolled past it on the way to the bathroom, usually you wouldn’t have given in to his snide comments, which you were no stranger to. But it was thanksgiving if your brother thought your outfit was ugly, chances are, so would the rest of your family.

Your outfit always happened to be a topic of conversation.

Your movements halt when you finally process what he had said, before slowly taking a few steps backwards meeting his taunting face while he sat on the edge of the bed “What’s wrong with it?” You cock your head feeling the embarrassment trickle through your face up to your ears, usually you wouldn’t care what comments Brodie decided to make about your outfit, but a lot of people were going to be seeing this one.

Honestly you thought it was pretty tame considering the only revealing piece was your skirt, which frankly wasn’t that short, and you thought you had compensated with your boots.

“Why are you wearing… boots?” He laughed looking down at your outfit with furrowed eyebrows before looking back up at your flustered face “and why are they red?”

You scoffed, embarrassment completely diminishing when you find out that was his problem with your outfit “they’re maroon… and you’re wearing a doctor who shirt, don’t think you’re in any position to be judging me” you glare back at him uncrossing your arms.

Honestly, he has absolutely no right to be making fun of your outfit, despite being twins, you were the complete opposites. His outfits usually consist of different coloured converse and some sort of comic book shirt, yours consisting of literally anything else.

“I have a party afterwards anyways, I don’t have time to get changed”

“You have a party on thanksgiving?… who has a party on thanksgiving” Brodie scoffs finishing the lace on his second converse

“A lot of people” you smile sarcastically backing from his door frame to continue your task before you were rudely interrupted “not that you would know” you mumble under your breath before leaving his bedroom.

A little satisfied smile crept upon your face when you heard Brodie’s faint ‘hey!’ Emitting from his bedroom.

You knew your mother would be absolutely furious knowing you had intentions on leaving thanksgiving early to attend a party, which was exactly why you had no plans on telling her. Your family was big enough as is, and considering you had shared thanksgiving with the Reid family for 12 years and counting, with both combined there had to be one, or many pockets for you to escape unnoticed.

The car ride to the Reid family home always seemed so short, always feeling so much longer when you were riding there on bikes, or walking there after school.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had even used your bike, it had to be collecting dust in your garage by now, you truly don’t think you had used it since starting highschool, despite your brother’s efforts to get you to ride to Spencer's house with him, each time you declined, something always more important popping up.

The familiar smell of the house flooded your nose while you took a step in, it always smelt like chai and vanilla, and it always looked like fall threw up on it, decorated with faux autumn leaves and pumpkins all year round, they always just added Santa hats to the pumpkins in December, you knew that was Spencer’s doing.

The wind was almost taken from you while Diana embraced you in the biggest hug, almost knocking over the cupcakes from the tray you were holding, giggling a little you returned the hug one handed of course. She always smelt like the house times ten, the vanilla smell becoming so much stronger the closer you were to her, pulling back she embraced your face in her warm slender hands brushing your cheeks softly with the pad of her thumb.

“You look so beautiful” she smiles, your face turning pink at her compliment, she did this every year. Every year she hugs you, looks like she’s about to cry and then goes on about how beautiful you look for the rest of the night, and every year it makes you feel a little more guilty about not coming around as much.

Both your parents embrace Diana and William before they usher you to the beautifully set dinner table, where the rest of his and your family awaited your arrival, both yours and his grandparents chatting away at the kitchen bench about some sort of football nonsense.

Always in awe of Diana’s meals, you debated on changing your mind and slipping out after dinner instead, not wanting to miss out on her carefully cooked Turkey.

Despite getting swept away in greeting the rest of your family, as well as the rest of the Reid’s, it didn’t take you long to notice one missing Reid.

Regardless of your efforts to talk to Spencer, he never really seemed that interested in befriending you after middle school, every time you tried to talk to him in class he always went quiet and dismissive, or snapped mean answers back at you, and you simply took the hint.

Spencer saw the way your friends snickered to themselves when you tried to speak to him, the way they’d whisper when he walked past, even though you’d smile and wave, he always saw them laugh behind you. He knew deep down it wasn’t your fault, but he couldn’t help but blame you when you never actually stopped any of your friends from making snide comments at him or his friends.

Excusing yourself from your family, you hopped up the stairs, muscle memory walking you towards Spencer’s room before you mind had caught up,

Reading the large ‘S R’ sticker on the bedroom door, you chuckle to yourself a little, staring at the crooked R knowing it was like that cause you couldn’t reach it to meet the S in the fourth grade, Spencer had refused to help you, cackling as he watched you on your tippy toes while you begged him to stop laughing.

Before your mind could even process anything, you brought your arm up to knock on his door, swallowing nervously.

You weren’t even sure why you were nervous, he just seemed to shut down any attempt at being friends and you never knew why. He got along with Brodie just fine, they were honestly really close, they hung out at school everyday and studied together after school on Wednesdays and Fridays, it just seemed like your invitation stopped one day.

The door swung open while your mind had still been dissociated thinking about all the attempts you made to talk to him, snapping you from your brain fog, Spencer stood at the door almost equally as confused as you, honestly you didn’t know why you were there, and as smart as he was, he didn’t know either.

“I brought you a cupcake” you chuckle pushing the baked good towards him with your right hand, eyebrows furrowed he takes a look at the seemingly vanilla cupcake in your hand before looking back up at your eyes.

“I don’t like cupcakes” Spencer shakes his head quickly while his hand grips harder on his door handle, debates in his mind about closing it on you.

“Yes you do” Cocking your head you stare at Spencer confused, he loved cupcakes, he also loved your cupcakes “I literally saw you eating one in the library the other day” you scoff at his obvious lie.

“And why were you in the library” he raises both his eyebrows, glancing back down at the pretty cupcake you had offered him, which he began to quickly regret declining, because he really did love your cupcakes.

“Reading?” You conceded pulling your arm holding the cupcake back “are you implying I don’t read Spencer Reid?” This was the most he had talked to you in months, you never realized you could miss a person's voice despite them being alive and well.

“If the boot fits” he shrugs leaning on his door, the grip on his door handle loosening a little, you stare a little taken back, he doesn’t talk to you for years, and then all of a sudden on thanksgiving he decides he’s going to spit back sassy little comments at you?

“Can you just take the cupcake?.. it’s pumpkin spice” you admitted pushing the sweet back in his direction, a little part of Spencer’s facade broke down, almost giving into the cupcake “I even made the little pumpkin out of fondant… it took forever” you whisper the last part almost talking to yourself.

He tried his hardest to stay strong but you had just about broken him down at this point, with a displeased groan rolling his eyes he reached out to snatch the cupcake from your soft hand, earning a small smile to form on your lips.

It only took him seconds to dig into the treat before a soft chuckle escaped your lips “can I come in?” You smile glancing behind him into his room, it looked almost exactly the same as it did when you were fourteen, posters in the same place, no furniture was rearranged, you even spotted the mini dalek figurine you had bought him on his top shelf.

Hesitantly Spencer nods stepping away from the door frame to welcome you in, his room was always kept neat, sheets tucked perfectly under his mattress, and books always in the correct spot. His weakness, however, was the countless amount of school work pages spread across his desk.

Taking a seat at his desk your eyes still gaze around his room, feeling like a blast from the past, all the books you read, series reruns you watched and stories you wrote coming back to you in a wave of memories.

“So…” he mumbled, mouth still half full with your cupcake before sitting down on the edge of his bed “do you need science homework?” Shrugging boring his eyes back into yours.

You scoff, frankly offended he would even ask you such a thing “no?.. Spencer, you and I have almost the same science grades." You'd be lying if you said you’ve never thought of asking Spencer for homework, especially on nights where cheer practice ran late and you didn’t have nearly enough time to finish, but you’ve never actually asked.

“Yeah almost” scoffing while he brushes his hands against each other wiping the crumbs of the cupcake away, you sat there stunned a little, he knew you’d never ask him considering your friendship… situation, you wouldn’t use him.

You felt the rage boiling in you for a little at his attitude towards you, considering you had done absolutely nothing for him to be mad at you for, sure you weren’t in the same friend group, but he would know more than anyone the statistics of middle school friends drifting apart in highschool, you swivel his desk chair to face his desk, frustrated palming your face with your hands dragging them down a little.

You allow your eyes to rake across his messy paper filled desk before they’re drawn to one page in particular, written in pink pen on beige lined paper, quickly snatching it from the pile you let your eyes scan over it a little before letting out an unexpected laugh.

Catching Spencer’s attention his eyes had almost bulged out of his head once he realized what piece of paper you had in your hands.

“Dear Spencer…” you start reading aloud ignoring Spencer’s loud attempts to make you put it down “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our conversations and wanted to let you know-”

“Put it down please” he groans, reaching forwards to grab it from your hands, only for you to snatch it towards you standing up from his desk chair.

“-That I’ve liked you for a while now- Sadie Keller!” You gasp grinning up at Spencer while he makes every attempt to steal the paper back from your grip “you never told me you liked Sadie Keller!” you playfully smack him with the piece of notebook paper before letting him grab it from your grasp.

“I don’t really tell you anything” Spencer crumpled up the paper before tossing it back onto his desk, you face fell a little at his words, only because he was right, he didn’t really tell you anything at all, because he didn’t ever talk to you, because you weren’t really friends.

You almost could’ve sworn you felt a lightbulb click on above your head while you watched Spencer scurry his papers together to make a neat pile “come to a party with me” you rush causing his movements to halt slowly turning his head to meet your gaze.

“Why on earth would I do that… it’s thanksgiving” he reasoned, confusion painted across his face. He simply could not fathom why you would want to take him to a party, he also couldn’t fathom why he was considering it.

“God” you groaned, moving to take a seat on his bed now “people have got to get over that” rolling your eyes you pat down your skirt a little before continuing your attempt to read his face for clues on what was going on inside his head.

“Why would you want to be seen at a party with me?” He queried, attitude dripping from his sentence, watching as your face dropped and your brows furrowed coloured him confused, why would you want to be seen with him?

“Sadie will be there… and I can’t see a potential love story and not indulge” you snicker, almost dismissing his question, you thought you’d spare a sentimental conversation about how much you missed him and instead go an easier route, you wanted him to come for his benefit.

To your surprise, he looks as if he considers it for a while, it was the first time you actually took in what he was wearing, a fitted doctor who shirt and gray sweatpants, the same exact doctor who shirt your brother has on, you cringed a little at the thought that they had coordinated that.

“Fine” he says after a while of silence, you simply cannot help the grin creeping up on your face “but only because of Sadie, and not because of you” he rushes again, almost sounding like something he was trying to convince himself rather than you.

Holding your hands up in defense you smile at his surprising compliance “how are we even supposed to leave without anyone noticing?” Beginning to worry that both your families were beginning to wonder where both of you had gone.

In all seriousness, your family actually had not noticed that the both of you were up in Spencer’s room, and were much more occupied by the game of football they all huddled around to watch.

“Follow me genius”

go to PART TWO

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic recs #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert

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rusmii · 3 months

Note

hihi srry for bothering u erm, any racer!chuuya hcs or racer!dazai hcs?

thank u for ur time

MY PRIZE MY WOMAN - n. chuuya, d. osamu

fem!reader x racer!chuuya + racer!dazai hcs in scenario format

[✦🏁]. . . quack. decided to have a go at this format again.... [chuuya is a socal street racer, dazai is a norcal professional racer]

[cws]. . . dazais is a little longer than chuuyas bc i got carried away 💀, chuuya has this noticeable heavy accent, dazai is engaged to reader and proposes to reader on their anniversary, use of profanity, MENTIONED: betting money/humans (chuuyas), lying/manipulation/gaslighting/doxxing (this is all dazai), police getting involved in chuuyas part, illegal street racing in chuuyas part (street racing is illegal in cali that's why)

.001 — CHUUYA

"LOOK IT'S CHUUYA!!!"

as the crowd cheers as loud as it can; mainly women who show up at the crack of dusk just to watch street racer!chuuya zoom down the street, far ahead of everyone else. no one knows how he does it, how he modified his car to be the exact thing most other racers fear — what seems like a regular modified car, physically a carbon copy of how the others look, is a baby that can tap the gas at extreming speeds.

when street racer!chuuya lines his car up with his opponents, he gives them a smile. no, not a smirk, a smile; mockingly knowing the deep-rooted anxiety it gives them. "give it your best shot, yeah?" is what he always tells them — questioning their retaliated aggression whenever they spit back at him, anger seething through their grit.

"damn look at that speed!"

as soon as shots are fired, street racer!chuuya's car is already down the street within seconds - more than a few miles ahead than his opponents. his baby curving sharp turns perfectly — watching in his rear view mirror how some people almost crash into bridges and buildings as they fail to slow down in time for the next sharp turn — their rage turning into his high; windows open, laughs as loud as the quake when chuuya's car races back around to the line for another lap.

street racer!chuuya who smirks at everyone's dumbfounded reaction when he crosses the line first as soon as he completes his second lap, some behind him and others not even close to finishing their first lap — giving you a wink when his car pulls up in front of you as he whistles, beckoning for you to come in.

"who the hell is that?"

"you don't know? that's his girl - [name]! they always drift together! it's an absolute must for chuuya!"

not even bothered by the stares of envy, you crouched down into his car - the door slamming behind you as your boyfriend walks to the driver's side. "buckle up, we're goin' in circles dolly," street racer!chuuya warns, opting to lean over and grab the belt himself, the metal clicking in place. shifting the gear selector, chuuya rolls his car back to make room for the other cars — everyone in their own circle, some cars already starting up 'n ready to go.

"yo, nakahara! wanna bet? you win, you get how much ever ya' want - we win, we get your girl. deal?"

"that's fine. just don't cry when you lose everythin' ."

now in drive move, engine revved, you sitting next to him - the perfect scenario; perfect motivator for him to put in everything's he's got into this competition. he couldn't lose, not with you on the line. "hold on tight doll, we're goin' fast tonight," street racer!chuuya squeezes your thigh one last time before focusing his attention back on the road — giving a subtle smirk to said man who was sticking his tongue out at you. "sweetheart yer' comin' home with me tonight!" he yells at you through the window, rolling it back up as soon as the gun goes up.

the guy cursed to hell and back, chuuya leaning against the door of his car as he waited for him to drive in from the line. "chu, you didn't have to do him dirty like that," you laugh, legs crossed on the hood of his car. "couldn't have my girl thinkin' i wouldn't put in my all — betting on the line doesn't matter — as long as it's you, i'd forever sacrifice my everything f'you," street racer!chuuya grins like a lovesick fool, his one and only being able to soften his rough exterior no matter where they're at.

when worst comes to prevail, street racer!chuuya is by no means weak. gladly fighting men, women, and kicking children out of the lots if they were messing with you. with no hesitation, he cranks his arm, getting ready to throw a punch towards the man's face. "who's sweetheart you takin' tonight? 'cause it's certainly not mine."

"shit it's the police!"

"make a fuckin' run for it everyone!!"

ah - if there was one thing that street racer!chuuya absolutely loved about the freedom of the streets, were its laws and how he breaks every single one of them. pressing on the gas, he grips the wheel, eyeing for a clearing entrance from the hundreds of scattered crazies — junkies, methies, regular people or not — they were in his way and if he needed to, he'd run them over just to get you outta there safe.

"buckled up? great - now let's get you outta here safe, darlin'," street racer!chuuya winks and taps his baby, the cars ignition getting ready to blast off as soon as he finds a clearing.

.002 — DAZAI

"and over here in the blue car, number #17 — WE HAVE, OSAMU DAZAI!!!"

as number #17 revs its engine, the black tint barely concealing his identity — professional racer!dazai tuts at the sound of light. announcing to the host to hurry its introducing and start the race already. with the signal ready, dazai grips his wheel - staring at you as a good luck omen before setting off once he heard the go.

in the relay, cars have no boundaries — beating the metal til the other explodes out of weakness. too bad explosions weren't as common as they were uncommon, professional racer!dazai did love a little chaos and fire that went off behind him as he crossed the line first in their final lap.

clashing and crashing weren't just his favorite pass times in the lobby, though. what really made professional racer!dazai's day were the checks he earned whenever he won the race; bitter and sour expression being thrown his way as he pretends to pay no mind, secretly eating up every single reaction and hatred that consumes the losers of the relay — a sadistic play, other racers like to say. well, whatever they say, goes out from one ear to another as he's paid extra to participate in special racing relays.

"we have contacted a very special guest to participate in today's race!! GUESS WHO??!"

when professional racer!dazai's car drives into the last lane, everyone is cheering and shouting; the racers banging their heads somewhere in their cars as they cursed whatever devil set them up to be racing against the osamu dazai — said devil himself grinning from ear to ear, eerily creepy as he gave them a thumbs up. "good luck! don't die before me!" he laughs one last time, sending shivers down their spines.

"no way! he cheated!! there's no way he could have won! this ain't the streets - this shit is the real deal! where us real racers race for the - !!"

"i'll take that as a compliment, thank you very much! but might i correct that i do not cheat, you are simply just too weak to be in this profession."

professional racer!dazai who's smile does not falter when he is being degraded and insulted, any indication on his face not being shown through his well trained composure. when people call bullshit, dazai calls doxxing them and everyone they love to make them retract their claims and accusations — all in the guise of an innocent facade as he plays dumb to the rumored 'dazai''s cheating curse'.

"ah! - this note from our extremely talented winner says, 'this win is dedicated to my beloved [name]!' ".

"[name]? isn't that the name of his fiance?"

"as the announcer had just said, this win, as so all my other wins - belongs to my very beautiful love, [name] dazai!" a gasp escapes from the audience, what? the, fuuuck..? since when did you guys finally tie the knot? "oh! - you guys might be wondering when we got married, but it was actually a lie! we're just friends!!! - OWWWWWWW!!!!!!!" professional racer!dazai yells in pain when the sharp end of a shoe is thrown at his head.

"we're not married yet, but we're still engaged YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!" you scream angrily, sticking your ring finger up high and proud as the crowd gasps again. getting ready to leave, a hand grabs ahold of you, twisting you back around to face your fiance. when you were about to scream at them, they pointed to the ground, "please uh - hear your about to be husband out first..?"

"my beautiful [name], will you marry me?"

finally, professional racer!dazai who was the one behind this entire race competition. all the racers, the audience, the hosts — he orchestrated it all in order to plan for this very moment; pulling strings after strings to be able to pull it off. at the same time, the racers cars pull up, all curving on the dirt outside of the relay — in the form of letters as they drift to complete a full sentence, 'Marry Me [Name]!!!'.

mouth slacked open, you stare in disbelief, walking down the bleachers that the group around you have cleared. and there, you see - your fiance - about to be husband, holding keys as a very special car pulled around him. "happy anniversary [name]," professional racer!dazai smiles softly when he sees your excited expression. "Holy shit! holy shit! holy shit! holy shit!!!" you jump, running up to dazai and bear hugging him. "exact model and color huh?" dazai laughs, handing you the keys as you nod, "perfect!" — the perfect car you've been longing for since you first laid eyes on it.

belongs to @churuai DONT STEAL >:(((

taglist (free to join!): @luvan1 @bfdazai @asqmi @squigglewigglewoo @liviash @doonifox @ishqani

other tags 🩷: @atlasnessie @xxcandlelightxx @bandshirts-andbooks

#[˚₊‧꒰ა🩰] — runi #professional racer!dazai #street racer!chuuya #idk how i feel abt this one #idk if i like it or not #erm.. i have another racer hcs for yall if you didnt like this one either😞#erm cali boys yasss #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #[☆] — anon

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