#try to guess how many and which languages this guy speaks

[cozyflowerbed]

Husk is a walking mushroom encyclopedia. You may doubt him on many things, but never underestimate his knowledge on mushrooms.

[rivilu]

Wait. Logistically speaking. Would Elluin even know how to read.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—” 

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips. 

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly. 

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.  

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest. 

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips. 

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both. 

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger. 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall. 

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses. 

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair. 

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence. 

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door. 

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening. 

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara. 

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy. 

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands. 

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose. 

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue. 

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that. 

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y. 

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small. 

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself. 

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer. 

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him. 

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission. 

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye. 

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours. 

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought. 

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist. 

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips. 

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place. 

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind. 

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow. 

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear. 

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing. 

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision. 

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this. 

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable. 

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back. 

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression. 

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth. 

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone. 

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt. 

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway. 

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.” 

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally. 

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb. 

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords. 

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms. 

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him. 

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day. 

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold. 

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness. 

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you. 

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters. 

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten. 

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you. 

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you. 

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin. 

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way. 

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot. 

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts. 

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach. 

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again. 

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself. 

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over. 

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe. 

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second. 

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words. 

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about. 

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles. 

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him. 

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is. 

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up. 

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow. 

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you. 

“Really?” 

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic. 

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology. 

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering. 

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off. 

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you. 

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?” 

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately. 

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark. 

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation. 

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have. 

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot. 

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again. 

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast. 

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his. 

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise. 

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear. 

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore. 

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit. 

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance. 

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt. 

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed. 

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking. 

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried. 

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.  

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles. 

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one. 

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body. 

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself. 

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh. 

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.  

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else. 

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm. 

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?” 

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly. 

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked. 

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off. 

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination. 

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk. 

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass. 

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush. 

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked. 

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are. 

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers. 

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft. 

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence. 

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands. 

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly. 

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso. 

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten. 

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense. 

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.  

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up. 

He’s still perfect. 

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear. 

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit. 

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him. 

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent. 

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him. 

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod. 

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately. 

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging. 

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth. 

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths. 

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle. 

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to  someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever. 

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest. 

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely. 

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours. 

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times. 

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you. 

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment. 

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin. 

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you. 

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows. 

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders. 

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again. 

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish. 

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are. 

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance. 

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly. 

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous. 

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for. 

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly. 

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position. 

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time. 

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you. 

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two. 

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you. 

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours. 

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you. 

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre. 

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in. 

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static. 

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak. 

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern. 

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good. 

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling. 

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time. 

“Spence?” 

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you. 

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound. 

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good. 

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums. 

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him. 

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses. 

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily. 

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster. 

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect. 

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face. 

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear. 

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies. 

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are. 

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt. 

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine. 

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe. 

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure. 

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him. 

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good. 

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it. 

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him. 

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps. 

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you. 

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward. 

But it’s too much all combined. 

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers. 

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained. 

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob. 

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach. 

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you. 

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly. 

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment. 

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes. 

“Hi.”

He smiles. 

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back. 

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage. 

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs. 

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe. 

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile. 

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek. 

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms. 

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be. 

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you. 

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face. 

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for. 

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies. 

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems. 

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself. 

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin. 

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile. 

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty. 

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now. 

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color. 

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks. 

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too. 

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.  

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves. 

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves. 

You want the same. 

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.” 

-

part eight

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLOVESTRUCK BOY * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Nick and Chris are trying to record wednesday's video, but Matt's lovestruck gaze keeps going to Y/N, distracting himself.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"Matt! Hellooo, is anyone there?" Nick spoke from behind the camera while moving his arms around exasperatedly, looking at his brother, who had his eyes focused on the couch in the back of the room.

Matt is the kind of guy that when he loves, he loves hard.

So to say that Matt was crazy about Y/N was an understatement, all that was on his mind day and night was his girlfriend; His days were happier with her by his side, he felt like he had more energy and strength to do anything, only because of her.

His favorite thing in the world was seeing her happy, so his heart warmed every time he heard her talking about the books she was reading with so much passion and affection - so much so that he lost count of how many times he took her to the bookstore and bought more than 100 dollars in books, just to be able to hear her talk about the characters that Matt never memorized the names of and the story that always made she speak too quickly and with so much devotion.

Whenever Matt was with his brothers or friends, he would mention his girl. It was automatic, everything reminded him of her. He was obsessed. With all that said, it was inevitable that, being in the same room, the boy wouldn't be able to take his eyes off her.

The theme of that Wednesday's video was something suggested by Y/N herself, as just a few minutes ago the four of them were lying on the sofa in the living room, the girl with her feet on Matt's lap while starting a new book, while the brothers watched old videos of themselves on television.

His hands caressed the tops of her feet covered in fluffy Iron Man socks, which she had probably stolen from his side of the drawer. Every now and then Matt's right hand would go up her legs to Y/N's left hand, taking it away from the book and to his mouth, sealing the warm, soft skin with love, keeping his eyes on the TV screen.

A smile grew on Matt's face every time his brothers made vomiting sounds, calling them disgusting. While Y/N felt like her cheeks could explode from how red they became.

Matt's teenage voice coming from the videos made Y/N's heart warm, and seeing the silly smiles on the triplets' faces as they traveled through the land of nostalgia made an idea pop into the girl's head, who instantly put down the book and paused the video, catching the attention of them.

And this takes us to the current moment, after Y/N has separated some pictures from when they were children, teenagers or nowadays on Nick's phone, having created an album to be used in that specific video.

Matt and Chris were sitting at the kitchen table, facing the camera, Nick - who was standing behind it with the album open on his phone -, and consequently also facing the sofa, where Y/N was sitting comfortably as she flipped through her book, a smile appearing every now and then on her face as her expressions changed according to the events in the story.

A cup of cappuccino that Matt made for her rested on her legs, keeping her warm, while her right hand came out of the book every now and then and picked up the drink, taking a sip.

It was the third time that Nick caught Matt's attention, who seemed to get lost in his girlfriend's figure, and all external sounds, including his brothers' voices, became muffled.

To disguise it, the boy would randomly guess the name of one of his brothers or himself when Nick showed a small part of a picture, getting it wrong almost every time. This led to him having the lowest score.

"What? Yes, that's Chris." Matt blinked his eyes quickly, looking away from Y/N and to the phone in Nick's hands.

"Matt, it's you!" Nick exclaimed, rolling his eyes and sighing, he knew the video would continue like this if he didn't get Y/N out of the room, but his best friend looked too comfortable on the couch.

"Pay attention, dumbass." Chris slammed the palm of his left hand against Matt's forehead, earning a slap back on the arm.

Y/N lifted her head from the book momentarily, holding back a laugh as she saw the brothers fighting, rolling her eyes playfully before returning her attention to the story, adjusting her position on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I'll pay attention. I promise." Matt raised his hands in surrender, swallowing hard as he glanced briefly at Y/N and saw her laughing softly, returning his eyes to his older brother and forcing himself to keep them there.

"For those of you who aren't understanding, Y/N is sitting on the couch reading, and Matt can't stop looking at her. He's obsessed, I swear." Nick muttered behind the camera, shaking his head even though they couldn't see him.

When the first round ended, Chris got up and took Nick's place behind the camera, agreeing to be the next to show the pictures and be the jury.

Nick handed him the phone and sat down next to Matt, looking briefly at the couch and closing his lips in a thin line at Y/N's wide eyes at the book, probably surprised by some absurd scene.

The oldest looked at Matt, seeing that his brother was already looking at Y/N, too. Their eyes quickly met when Matt felt Nick looking at him, a laugh escaping both of their mouths.

"Are you ready?" Chris asked after choosing the first picture he would use, receiving a nod from the two brothers, who had both arms on the table so they could reach the "button" faster.

The youngest zoomed in on the pic and turned the screen towards the two, waiting for one of them to get it right.

Matt had never moved so fast, his left hand slamming against the post-it too hard as his eyes were wide in euphoria.

"It's me! Look at Y/N's hand there." Matt shouted in excitement, raising his right hand and pointing at the phone behind the camera.

"Yeah, that's Matt." Nick sighed, knowing that even though he got it right too, Matt spoke first. "You only got it right because Y/N is in the picture!"

"Obviously, he knows Y/N's traits more than he knows his own." Chris scoffed from behind the camera, zooming out of the image and looking for the next one.

The picture in question was from a day when the four of them went out to dinner at an Italian restaurant about a year ago, Nick and Chris were sitting on one side of the table and Y/N and Matt on the other. Matt had his elbows resting on the wooden table and his hands crossed, laughter escaping his lips when he heard something Chris said, while Y/N joined him in laughing, her hands crossed around his right bicep and her head resting on his covered shoulder.

The pic was taken by Nick, being the passionate photographer that he was, and Chris felt a smile stretch across his face as he remembered the moment.

Even though they made fun of their brother so much for being a crazy in love for Y/N, they felt their chest fill with joy for their brother every time they saw them together. They knew that their brother had found his other half, and seeing him as happy as ever made them just as happy.

"I know, he's obsessed with her." Nick commented again, receiving a slap on the back of his head, letting out a laugh when he saw Matt roll his eyes, but don't deny anything.

The girl looked up again when she heard her name being said by one of the boys and her person being mentioned more than once. Her eyes met Matt's blue ones, who looked at her with love and affection, an easy smile appearing on his face almost automatically.

Y/N smiled back, blowing a kiss, which the boy pretended to catch with his left hand and keep in the pocket of his hoodie.

When the round changed again, it was Matt's turn to stand behind the camera and choose the pictures.

The boy got up from his seat, fixing his pants and walking over to where Chris was, taking the phone from his hand and closing the last picture chosen by the youngest.

His thumb scrolled across the screen, looking for the first one he would use as he let his brothers settle down.

A smile stretched across Matt's face as he passed by a picture of Nick and Y/N, where they were both wearing sunglasses, with feathers around their necks and making faces at the camera. Nick had his left hand raised showing a peace sign, and it was there that Matt decided to zoom in, but not before lingering his eyes for a few seconds on the full image, admiring his girlfriend there.

Matt took advantage of the fact that his brothers were in a silly argument and turned around momentarily, looking at his girl, who was now in a position that in his head was probably very uncomfortable, but he already knew that for Y/N, the most different positions were the best.

The girl felt eyes on her and looked up, seeing Matt standing there admiring her. A reddish color took over her cheeks, and her fingers played with the pages of the book, trying to hide her shyness.

Matt nodded briefly at the book as if asking her how the story was going. Y/N smiled at the action, making a chief kiss gesture with her right hand while her left held the book open, afraid of losing the page she stopped at.

"I want to hear all abo-" Matt began in a low voice, just for Y/N to hear, but his sentence was cut by a hand hitting the table.

"I'm going to get Y/N out of the room if you don't turn around now and do your job." Nick said, crossing his arms. Chris held back his laughter beside him, his face turning red from the force he exerted in the action.

"You're so unnecessary." Matt rolled his eyes, throwing a wink at Y/N, who had a goofy smile, before turning to face his brothers again.

"No, you are." Nick responded, opening his mouth to argue against Matt again, only to be stopped by Chris, who smacked his left arm while laughing.

"Go ahead, Matt." The youngest asked, straightening up and clearing his throat, looking at his brother as he waited for the first picture.

Nick sent a bored look to Y/N, who was still watching them intently. The girl laughed softly, turning her attention back to the book as she felt her heart warm.

Y/N felt so grateful for her boyfriend and his brothers, who she saw as family. She would never forget the day Nick thanked her for how happy she made his brother, but little did he know, it was Matt who made her the happiest.

extra - comments:

"Matt looking behind the camera every 2 minutes with a lovestruck look on his face was the cutest thing I've ever seen 😔"

"Matt being able to guess the picture that had Y/N in it just because of her 😭"

"I love how Nick and Chris make fun of Matt for his love for Y/N all the time"

~ "deep down, they love them together more than the couple itself lol"

"I want to have a boyfriend who is as obsessed with me as Matt is with Y/N ​​🧎‍♀️"

"Y/N is a total bookworm, and I'm here for it!"

~ "petition for her to make tiktoks about the books she reads ✏️📄"

"it's incredible to see the difference between Matt before Y/N and Matt during Y/N. She's so good for him 🥺"

"Matt smiles so much when Y/N is near 😫"

"Matt and Y/N >>>>>>> any other famous couple"

[astrologuzzy]

✿ MORE ASTRO OBSERVASHUNS ✿

I’m back to spill more astrology observations, lessgetit!!! ˃̵ᴗ˂̵

Also, quick reminder that these are just MY observations and opinions I’ve gathered, so take what resonates and leave what doesn’t! mwahhh 😽💋

☆ 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 seem to really like physical displays of affection very much. Every Gemini I knew always loved giving hugs specifically lol. They may enjoy physical touch as a love language.

★ I often notice how 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 aren’t scared to give their opinions no matter how controversial they may be. They don’t care if people agree, if they truly believe in it then they will share it and whoever disagrees can kiss their own ass. Which can seem intimidating to many especially with how much intensity and passion Scorpio brings to the table.

☆ I find it so easy to spot someone with 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. You guys give a very mellow and grounded energy that is very specific to Earth signs. Y’all have that signature down to earth presence or a very firm/calm tone of voice that I recognize instantly even thru text lol.

★ Everyone wants to call Leos the most “cocky” sign but have y’all seen 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈? They’re the real culprit here lol. These guys are number one fans of themselves (do I even need to make examples lol) and I respect it tbh.

☆ Speaking of 𝐋𝐄𝐎, they love to just disappear for like days or weeks straight out of absolutely nowhere and then come back like nothing happened and resume from where they left off. Like sir, are you not gonna explain why you just ghosted everybody? Lol like are you gonna explain where you was? (double points if that Leo has Sagittarius or Aquarius influences in chart cos they’re even more prone to going mia).

★ When people have 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 in their big 6 or heavy Mars influence in the chart I notice that they tend to sound/come across way ruder than they’re actually being lol. They can be very dominant and intimidating in conversations. You’d think they’re angry or being mean but they’re just asking you to pass them the water bottle lmao. Often I think they don’t even realize that themselves since they’re just built that way.

☆ People with 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 & 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 in their big 3 together kinda scare me lol (in a good way). They usually are very into occult stuff and/or are strongly religious and showcase it very openly and firmly. Sometimes they just have a very intimidating aura/demeanor to them. I notice how they frequently tend to be very into dark colors and themes/styles too. They don’t f*ck around at all. Love y’all 💚

★ People with a 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐒𝐔𝐍 usually have their Moon sign qualities be more noticeable. With Geminis I tend to catch onto their Moon sign behavior before I realize that they’re a Gemini. Could be a mutable thing where they’re versatile enough that their Moon qualities shine more than their sun sign qualities. Very frequently when I try to guess a Gemini’s sun sign I actually guess their Moon sign. They tend to act like their Moon more than other zodiac signs in my experience. They may not even notice it either.

☆ I hope I don’t offend anyone for this one but people with a 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 (frequently more moon) mother tend to have veryyyy chaotic childhood stories about her. Somehow these moms tend to often be pretty emotionally unhinged people (no offense but in my experience so many of my friends have a mom with a Pisces sun and/or Pisces moon and they all always tell me how their moms have crazy mood swings or a very erratic behavior). I’m honestly so sorry for anyone who had, or still has to deal with such an environment. 🫂💚

★ 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 & 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 are the best opposite sign duo in astrology imo. I’ve never seen many Geminis or Sags that say they dislike or don’t get that along with one another. We really click well and even I personally can testify that lol. These two always besties.

☆ Also 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 loooove anything to do with 2D characters or just fictional stuff in general. They love their ffs, romance books, making fan arts or edits. Every Pisces I knew had some kind of obsession with multiple fictional characters or shows and each one of them had accounts dedicated to making art or edits about said characters/shows lol. No matter if it’s a manga, an anime, a video game, a song, a movie or a cartoon, a Pisces placement will most probably romanticize a character or wtv it is they feel resonates with them in some way. I know lotta people do that but Pisces are usually more prone to be very frequent and indulgent with it in my experience. Not judging anyone, just pointing it out lol.

That’s all for todayyy ☀︎

Also please don’t copy or claim my content without credit or consent ♡

[igglemouse]

Week 1 ~ Introducing Magdalena ~ Monday

Today is a big day, perhaps the biggest of days? My acting career starts in earnest. Yes, today I will go to TWO auditions and hope to land both but will be fortunate to land one. The competition is stiff of course as so many women like me come to DSV to chase a dream.

I don't know how well I will do but I do know that will do my best.

Also. Didn't start any fires in the kitchen today!

I am not the only one in my family chasing a dream. My brother Iker is as well but his chase leads him across the ocean to Windenburg. Fútbol is his passion and some team far far away is willing to take him on as a prospect. I've talked a lot about how I will always miss home and family but it must be doubly true for him especially since I do not think he even speaks the language there? He jokes and tells me that the language of fútbol is universal and while I get the sentiment I doubt it is a language that will help him find new friends. What is he going to do, juggle a ball and spell out words in the air while doing so?

All I can do is hope for the best and wish him luck. At least he is doing more with his life than Carina, our sister. That is another story for another day.

You might have noticed the little bit of fuzz on my arms? Can't go to an audition with that and can't go with a stench! I guess I could, nothing is stopping me, but that would be embarrassing wouldn't it?

I'm honestly not sure what to expect with this first one, it's for a music video and honestly I don't know much about it? I don't think it matters, I'll learn once I'm there and I don't expect much to be asked of us. Like I mentioned, this is just to get my name out there and have something to put on my resume and for a little bit of simoleons. Beggars cannot be choosers and I cannot be picky about roles, yet.

I arrive slightly on time and am instantly guided to the dressing room or more like hurried to it. They wanted me to wear one of those body stocking fitting things that is very much skin tight and while I have a few questions I should remember what I've signed up for.

I am under no allusions here, the role called for an 'attractive' woman because I imagine she'll be featured in the video and so I know whoever wins the role will be eye candy. Nevertheless, I am still hoping to win.

I head into the audition room and instantly hate what I'm wearing because the AC is set on Simartica for whatever reason. Why put us in these skimpy clothes then? Were they trying to freeze us?

Either way, I've thankfully arrived near the end of the auditions as there is a very tired looking man sitting alone at a desk and three other women in the room.

One looks terrified, the lighter girl with short dark hair sat as still as ever, staring off into the distance and fiddling with her fingers while the girl sitting next to her, the redhead, seemed cool and confident, just waiting to show her stuff.

There was a woman at the front of the room being interviewed. I didn't catch the whole thing but I did hear her response. She played up her experience in dance which makes sense but it doesn't seem like the casting guy cared that much about it.

The conversation continues but I toned it out since the short haired girl captured my attention. She whispers hello but I can tell that there is some shyness to her? Some? No, a lot of shyness. She does seem to be open to a conversation at least, perhaps just to help with her nerves?

Ah, yes, this is what I fear. Most of the women auditioning here are models and not actresses, such as I, so it makes me wonder why I am here as well? The possible pay day I suppose? Still, it is something to put on my resume, I've seen acting careers launched off of music videos as well.

I continue my conversation with her and wonder how she is a model with such low confidence of herself but then I do realize the modeling industry industry is so rife with competition that it is bound to make the prettiest of people feel ugly. It is definitely a churn, especially for young women. I say all this knowing that I do believe I could be a very successful model, if I simply decided to be so.

The conversation between the casting guy and Ms. Bagley continues...

As Ms. Bagley walks out the next girl saunters up to the center of the room and instantly tries to claim it. She calls herself Jordan McDonough, in a tone that tells us we should already know who she was and how dare she have to waste energy introducing herself. The casting guy isn't so impressed, in fact, I don't think he barely noticed her at all.

Alright, if Eliana is a demonstration of no confidence this woman is a demonstration of having far too much. Thankfully, Eliana seems to be very open to chatting with me.

Meanwhile...over in the center of the room with miss spotlight...

Jaxton let out the heaviest of sighs right after calling for the next girl. It felt like it could blow a house down and I can't imagine how many personalities he's had to deal with today. All the same, it was time for Eliana's turn leaving me alone for a moment, I do wish her luck because she seems like a sweet woman who needs it. It's a competition but it also isn't. If they like her look more than mines they will pick her, nothing I can do about that.

I watch her gather herself, fiddle her thumbs, wobble a little as she stands. She's definitely about to bomb this, I'm sure how, but I am sure that she's about to.

Ouch. I felt bad for her, she certainly wasn't stuttering when I was speaking with her just now? Just stage fright I guess? I give her wave but I'm not sure she saw it, she seemed pretty dejected?

I can't linger on her for too long though so I take a deep breath and make my way to stand in front of the man and I must admit that I think his body language changes? He leans back in his chair and takes me in for a moment without speaking but eventually he speaks.

And so I do although I am slightly confused as he didn't ask this of any of the others? I turn to face the other way slightly and he just stares, it doesn't take me long to figure out what he's staring at. My lips part for just a second to tell him what's on my mind but thankfully no sound comes from them. This man, unfortunately, might be the deciding factor on if I get this part or not and what's done is done. I know he's not the first man to stare at my butt and he won't be the last.

Index ~ The Rest of the Day

[hotheadedhero]

Not sure if you're taking requests so feel free to ignore this, but I was wondering how the 2012 turtles would react to an S/O that swears a lot 🤣

My first ever request! And an absolutely hilarious one at that 😂 I love this so much, thank you! This is right up my street!

S/O that swears... a lot

Warnings: bad language but you coulda guessed that :]

2012 Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

He loves you but he wishes you didn't have such a vulgar tongue. This poor guy has no idea what to do, in all honesty. Leo isn't even sure if there's anything he can do. You swear when you're happy just as much as when you're upset.

There's nothing malicious in the way you go about it. He knows this and he knows you harbour no ill intent but he will try to coerce you into at least swearing less. Unfortunately, he realises that this is a futile attempt given it's practically your second language.

Eventually, he learns to suck it up and gets used to it because, gosh darn, he just loves you that much.

Raphael

Doesn't even bat an eye considering his family has to interrupt him before he speaks crudely. He doesn't get why. They're just words with negative associations, after all. The two of you are a massively bad influence on each other, unintentionally encouraging the other to exercise their foul mouth.

It certainly makes banter very interesting, to which the rest of the Hamato family are made either uncomfortable or concerned. Raph has no idea what the problem is. Minus their father, they all grew up in New York, for crying out loud!

At least you two get each other in that respect.

Donatello

May occasionally flinch with the odd swear here and there but doesn't seem to mind too much overall. Even he has some colourful expressions of his own. Sure, his own versions of obscenities are very much more family-friendly but he kind of gets it. "By Darwin's beard" is a prime example.

Donnie isn't one to frequently budge at your choice of vocabulary but he'd be lying if he said he isn't impressed with your creativity.

"What the fuck?! Pavlov's dog could figure this shit out!"

As crass as it is, that might be a personal favourite that often has him humoured.

Michelangelo

Incredibly shocked at first but he doesn't think any differently of you. This guy does not care one bit. You could have two heads and that wouldn't change a thing. At the end of the day, he loves you no matter what.

Someone may need to keep an eye on things, however. Don't forget - Mikey is impressionable when it comes to phrases, let alone the profanities that carelessly fall past your lips. If he's to accidentally repeat one of these words, it's not just his brothers you'll need to worry about getting an earful from.

Splinter will be all up in your case, so be mindful if you want to avoid a stern lesson in the dojo.

Also, just to put it out there, I'm happy to take requests! Just headcanons for now, however. I have so many stories to write and want to get them out before taking on ideas from all you lovelies :)

[021894s]

— 18 I wish it was easier.. [1.5k w]

MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

PAIRING: brothers bsf! sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: language, mentions of oral sex

AUTHORS NOTE: it’s looking up for y/n and sunghoon!!

your heart raced as you quietly slipped back into your room, the sound of your friends' voices drifting up from downstairs. you quickly sent a text to Sunghoon: "You go down first, I’ll leave the shower running so they don’t think anything." almost immediately, you received a simple "ok" in response. you could hear Sunghoon's footsteps as he descended the stairs to greet everyone.

"Hey guys, how was hiking?" Sunghoon's voice carried up to your ears, a mix of casualness and slight nervousness.

Saerom was the first to respond, her tone exasperated. "Horrible. I should’ve stayed home and slept."

Heeseung laughed, "Quit being dramatic! I had a great time."

Niki chimed in with a teasing grin, "Heeseung screamed like a little girl when he saw a snake."

The group burst into laughter, Heeseung trying to defend himself amidst the teasing. Saerom then asked, "Where’s Y/Nnie?"

Sunghoon, a bit nervous, rubbed the back of his neck. "I heard the shower running."

No one seemed to read too much into it. After a few more minutes, you came down the stairs, more giddy than usual, not that you were aware. "Hi guys!!" you greeted, your voice a bit too cheerful.

Sunoo gave you a skeptical look, "Ew, why are you so happy?"

"Oh, um, I just slept really good!" you replied, trying to sound natura.

you glanced over to see Jaemin and Ningning in their own little world, giggling about who knows what. unbeknownst to you , they had hit it off pretty well during their time away from you and sunghoon. not that you cared, jaemin was just a cover up anyway. you realized how messed up that sounded, but it was true.

Everyone went back to their activities. The three youngest settled on the couch to watch a movie, while the guys headed to the kitchen to start preparing lunch. saerom approached you, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into her room.

"Are you okay?" you tell her, a bit taken aback by her sudden actions

“you dirty whore!” , she blurts out

Confusion clouded your mind "You slept with him, huh?!"

heat rushed to your face, avoiding her gaze "oh my god, you did." saerom gasped, "shh, keep it down... but yes."

Her shock was palpable. "We ran into each other in the kitchen, and things just escalated."

Saerom's face twisted in disgust. "In the kitchen? y/n , they're making our lunch on that counter as we speak..."

"Well, when you put it that way..." you trail off, feeling a bit flustered.

Saerom rolls her eyes and says, "I'll be skipping lunch, thank you very much."

You can't help but roll your eyes in response. Then, Saerom speaks up again, "So, how was it?"

You reply with a small smile, "Somehow even better than the first? Which doesn't even make sense because it was so rushed."

Saerom smirks and says, "First of all, ew. Second of all, it's probably the circumstances under which it happened. I mean, the first time you guys had no prior encounters and you didn't know what to expect. This time around you knew what it felt like and it's like you've been longing for it. It makes sense."

“yeah, i guess so..” you admit then add with a sigh “i didn’t get to finish tho”

saerom dramatically gasps “he didn’t make you cum??? oh girl…”

you let out a laugh at your honesty “no i mean i was blowing him in the shower when we heard the door open” you hear another gasp “oh my god i’m never gonna look at you the same ever again”.

you and saerom snicker when she all of a sudden lets out a “so what now?”.

“in all honesty i’m not sure. we’ll have to talk it out but it’s not like there’s many places it could go, I really don’t want to hurt heeseung” you explain to her the complexity of your newfound feelings.

“well for what it’s worth you guys can talk it out with him? seung is understanding and he loves you both. who’s to say he won’t accept it?”

a sigh leaves your lips “yeah i guess so… but I don’t wanna think about that right now. I just wanna enjoy our last day before going back home”.

saerom smiles at you, getting up from the bed and side hugging you, opening the door to enter the living space once again. you’re met with everyone in pretty much the same positions as you left them but food has started to gather around the table. you didn’t realize how hungry you were until the aroma filled your nostrils. after all sunghoon did distract you from the breakfast you had made yourself earlier.

everyone takes their seats at the table, you're sitting across from sunghoon. the chatter and clinking of utensils fill the air, but all you can focus on is the subtle tension between you two. It's the kind of tension that's almost electric, the kind that nobody else seems to notice but the two of you.

sunghoon glances up from his plate, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he quickly looks away, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. you feel your heart skip a beat and you can't help but smile back, even though you're trying to keep it cool.

you take a bite of your lunch, trying to act natural, but every time you look up, you catch sunghoon's gaze again. It's like a silent conversation, a dance of glances and shy smiles that only the two of you understand.

Across the table, your friends are oblivious, caught up in their own conversations. You steal another glance at Sunghoon, and this time, he holds your gaze a little longer, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and something else you can't quite place. You feel a warm flush creep up your cheeks and quickly look down at your plate, hoping nobody else notices.

the moment is filled with laughter and chatter, but for you and sunghoon, it's like you're in your own little world, sharing a secret that nobody else can see.

“ningning and I are leaving early” jaemins voice cuts your little moment short. everyone turns to face the pair. heeseung is the first to speak “like.. together?”.

“well, yeah” ningning answers his question. “what about those two?” jake turns to you and sunghoon, both a little unsure of how to react to the situation. “sunghoon and I aren’t exclusive, neither are y/n and jaemin. we hit it off pretty well this morning so we’d like to see where it leads” everyone is left a little speechless and confused, not that you not sunghoon cared tho.

“aw well good luck guys” you wish them across the table, causing a confused glance from heeseung “you’re ok with this? you guys were all over each other yesterday”.

“well that was yesterday. you guys have fun!.” you answer. “sunghoon?” heeseung directs his attention to him. “i mean ningning is right we aren’t exclusive so”.

“you guys worry me” heeseung states, laughter erupting from the table. who would’ve know your little revenge scheme would end up working in their favor?

the rest of the day is spent enjoying the pool, taking in the final moments of your camping trip before having to go back to your daily routines.

The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the pool area, everyone else made their way inside, deciding to wash up and call it a night. you and sunghoon are floating lazily on inflatable loungers, the water gently rocking you back and forth. the evening air is warm, and the sky is painted with shades of pink and orange.

sunghoon turns his head to look at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "This is nice, isn't it?"

you nod, feeling completely at ease. "Yeah, it really is."

a comfortable silence falls between you, the only sounds being the gentle lapping of the water and the distant chirping of birds. after a while, sunghoon speaks up again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"tou know, I've been thinking a lot lately," he says, his eyes focused on the sky above. "About us."

you feel your heart skip a beat. "What about us?"

he hesitates for a moment before turning to face you, his expression serious but tender. "I just... I really value our time together. You mean a lot to me."

You can feel the sincerity in his words, and it makes your heart swell with emotion. "You mean a lot to me too, sunghoon."

He reaches out, his hand finding yours in the water. The touch is gentle, but it sends a wave of warmth through you. "I wish it was easier" he says softly.

You squeeze his hand, a smile spreading across your face. “me too”

the sun dips below the horizon, casting the pool in a soft twilight, you and Sunghoon float there, hand in hand. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken promise of something more.

taglist: @cornenhapovs @myjaeyuns @magssu @leeknowsgfsblog @jentlecoeur @heeslut4life @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @jaeyungxrl @rapmonie2047 @anormieee @nishislcve @leesura @en-happiness @kimsunoops @heelariously @rikiwaify-blog @ihrtgyuuu @purennn @hoonharem @g0niki @hearts4itoshi @yongbokified @shuichi-sama @xiaoderrrr @hongshuaknow @skylalyla @yzzyhee @jwnghyuns @seokseokjinkim @syzavxy @xrvrqs @soulvrrs @velvetkisscs @ak-aa-li @eneiyri @starlvcieszsq @meowmeowjang @hanhaeji @moonlighthoon @gaylilseokie @seunghancore @heelovesmeknot @nyfwyeonjun @kookify @jayhoonvroom @heesminee3 @charlizefaye @mooniikay @ccrriiied @nikiswifiee @heemilktea @yorukoshii @sumzysworld @glxzillx

[lanascurse]

: ̗̀➛ Some of my DR deets

JJK DR

Oddly enough, this is the one I tend to be most private about despite it being my main. I’d love to share soooo much but it’s all too personal. I’m part of the 2006 gang, and have a lovely s/o who I adore to death ! I scripted many things out (kenjaku dies off wayyy before 2018 lmao) so the plot is sort of similar , but I added my own tweaks to it? Also, my CT is related to crystals. I might explain it more in detail one day?? Idk if anyone cares tho but I love it sm. I’m considered a semi-special grade honestly…? It’s confusing but I’m definitely not a low grade 😋

Obey me! DR

Honestly my biggest concern about this reality was the language bc the game is meant to be in Japanese but I can’t imagine them speaking English 💀 the thing is they’re all demons living in “hell” so wouldn’t they have their own special language? Idk but I guess we’re all gonna be fluent in Japanese lmao. Anyway, there is so much chaos in the reality it’s so fucking fun. Lucifer is pissed 24/7 but I’m lowkey scared of him so I try not to slip out of line often. My S/O is Solomon because something about him hits diff 😍 I love my guys Mammon and Levi too but I don’t feel a huge connect to them in a romantical sense. MY OUTFITS TOO!! I mix the devildom and human realm fashion and it’s absolute perfection!! Also, even though there’s no sunlight in the Devildom, I will NOT be deficient in vitamin D 🥰

YouTuber DR

This is a fun one for sure. I’m basing this reality around sister squad mainly because first, iconic ass squad. Second, I eventually want Grayson Dolan as my s/o…I used to be Ethan’s lane lmao. I scripted for us to get together around 2020 since this is their “maturing” era. I have a YT squad of my own and we blew up in popularity years before we got involved with others YouTubers. I know James, Emma, and the twins personally, and quite close with them. And for fun I interact with Shane Dawson and Jeffree Star cuz why tf not? Doesn’t mean I wanna be their friend but they carried 2018 YouTube, let’s be so fr. 2018 is our prime year, my squad and I are drama free for the most part, even when people want to drag us into a scandal. Also making LA more ideal because…I think we all know why. Love this DR 😫

Waiting room

A cute cottage near the cliff-sides of Scotland where I have my bunnies, and all my cats (including the deceased ones). I chill, script, and am filled with absolute love and positivity. This is the place where time truly slows down and allows me to enjoy life. I get to watch edits of my dr’s (w me in them ofc), read goofy fanfics, and can literally summon anything or anyone I want ! It’s technically my dream life but without a career ;)

Haikyuu DR

In love with this anime/manga forever and always. My story goes deep so I won’t get into it too much but my s/o is most definitely Oikawa Tooru. I am a manager for Karasuno’s boys volleyball team and honestly might be like Hinata with how many encounters/friendships I develop 😭 I’m a second year so I’m close to Tanaka and Noya (two of the biggest doofus dingus heads ever I love them sm). My childhood best friend is Kageyama which creates an interesting dynamic around us imo. Wayyy too much to spill about this DR so imma keep it short !

Alice in Borderland DR

I was contemplating this one because it’s so creepy yet interesting. My occupation outside of the borderlands is still confusing to me because I haven’t given this DR any attention, but what I do know is Kuina will become my mf girlfriend. Have you seen that woman? Like idgaf about Chishiya, move over !!!!

Fame DR

I’m an actress with a background in musical theatre, and come from a successful family. I have some notable roles that led me to winning quite a few awards. In this DR, I have an older brother because I want to know what it’s like to have a sibling so bad. Idk why this is the reality I chose to experience that tho. I am friends with some of my fav celebs, ANDDDD one of my cousins is a K-POP idol as well!! We got them connections, y’all. NVM I don’t want a particular s/o in this reality but if I do end up with someone, I’d prefer it be a woman bcuz male celebrities do NOT hit the same :/

felt like yapping about my dr’s sorry. uh thanks if you made it all the way to the end. subscribe and like plz 🙏

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Homepage Lines - Misumi's Birthday (2025)

graphics and proofreading by myuntachis!

Spring Troupe

Sakuya: Misumi-san! I tried to gather triangles, how do you think I did? A perfect score? Yay!!

Masumi: Misumi’s being too lenient with his triangle judging. …He’s only going easy on me? Is he treating me like a little brother again…

Tsuzuru: Ikaruga-san’s acting always exceeds my expectations for his roles… It makes me seriously happy.

Itaru: Since it’s Misumi’s birthday, I’ll treat him to some homemade grilled onigiri. Can’t guarantee it’ll be good tho.

Citron: I made Super Big onigiri for Misumi’s birthday! Let’s keep it a secret that I used all the rice in the dorm.

Chikage: I made some modifications to the garland for Misumi’s BD Party. When you hit the switch… it lights up in seven colors.

Summer Troupe

Tenma: Alright, we’re here! It was pretty hard to find a store shaped like an equilateral triangle… Hey! Don’t try to set up camp here!

Yuki: Misumi, I made you some triangular envelopes and stationery. Aren’t they cute? Use them when you write letters.

Muku: The table, the decorations, and the cake… They’re all triangular and ready to welcome the birthday boy! Hehe, I can’t wait♪

Misumi: Thanks for the celebrations! I’m so happy I got so many nice triangles! I’ll put them all in my treasure box!

Kazunari: HBD Sumi! I looked outside just now and the moon was beautiful! Let’s go look at it together from the roof♪

Kumon: Here you go! My gift to you is a Triangle Letter Set! Madoka-san will definitely be happy if you send him a letter written on this!

Autumn Troupe

Banri: Can’t believe my deltoids are bein’ put through Misumi’s triangle check. C’mon, don’t compare me to Omi-san and Tasuku-san…

Juza: Misumi-san said he’ll teach me a good way to find triangles. I’ll study diligently.

Taichi: I shall present to you these triangle accessory gifts, Misumi-san! I dunno if they’re up to your standards, though…

Omi: Here you go. This is an album of pictures of triangles I found all over the place. I’ve also written down where I found them.

Sakyo: Who do ya think you are, touching people’s muscles and tellin’ them they’re soft? … That so? Guess I need to work out more…

Azami: I put makeup on the pieces for the triangle chessboard like ya asked me to, but… Are ya sure you’re good with this…?

Winter Troupe

Tsumugi: Happy birthday, Misumi-kun. I want to watch the next performance you’ll be guest starring in, so let me know when it is.

Tasuku: Lots of onigiri are disappearing at an impressive speed… Oh yeah, Ikaruga’s a glutton, huh.

Hisoka: I found a triangle keychain at the amusement park I work part-time at. I thought it’d make Misumi happy.

Homare: Oh my, have you received a letter from Madoka-kun? I am more than happy to provide you with some advice if you find yourself at a loss for the contents of your reply.

Azuma: How about we make onigiri together with Sakyo-kun this year? We can go shopping right away.

Guy: I prepared a storage box for Ikaruga’s extensive collection of items. It is triangular, of course.

GOD-za

Madoka: Happy birthday, Nii-san. Can I enter the paper plane contest too? I’m aiming to win, of course.

NOTES:

(1) taichi uses 献上 (kenjou), which is like. sonkeigo (speaking to someone in a higher position than the speaker) language for presenting something to someone (and 献上物 (kenjoumono) are gifts given to a daimyo or shogun) so i tried to play around with that

[hopekreymin]

Postal 2 Dude x Slavic s/o headcanons

I decided to write headcanons about what if Dude suddenly started dating a Slav. It seems to me that this gives rise to many interesting topics that can be thought about. Also dedicated to all Slavic fans of Postal, in particular fans of this ginger, schizo cockroach with an unstable psyche <3

I'm also Slavic myself, so I just wanted more representation or something, yeeaahhh.

• The first time you met, Dude couldn’t understand where you were from, although he could hear your accent. This intrigued him a little and he was already making his own guesses. When you told him that you were Slavic, he had a mixed reaction. At first it even seemed to you that he began to look at you with caution and suspicion. He probably even speculated about whether you were an undercover agent or not, but you didn’t want to believe that he could think that way about you. Because it's just silly. And although when you had already started a relationship, this thought still didn't leave you for some time. But you tried not to take it seriously, often joking that you would live with him for 30 years, only to later find out that you were simply gaining his trust and recruiting him all this time.

• There is clearly a language barrier between you two. Most of the time, Dude doesn't pay attention unless you're speaking your native language to someone else. Then he feels deprived and even somehow stupid for not understanding what you are saying. Sometimes he's sincerely surprised when he finds out how familiar to him words in your language sound completely different, or similar, but have a different or opposite meaning. Once you mentioned компот (compote) to him, and he first looked at you suspiciously and asked: “What cumpot?” Although most likely, he just wanted to play a silly joke on you.

• Be prepared for all Dude's stupid and awkward jokes about your country or language. He simply cannot keep his sharp, sassy tongue behind his teeth when he wants to joke. Most often, his jokes are based on the theme of the Soviet Union and stereotypes about your country or all Slavs in general. For some reason, in his brain there is still a fictitious fact that all Slavic countries are still closely connected and similar to each other, as if the USSR never collapsed. Of course, half of his knowledge about the Slavs is based on American films, where Slavic characters were often portrayed as the bad, cold and tough guys. Also, he cannot help but mention vodka to you at least once, although you may not drink it at all. And of course he thinks that it’s always cold in your country and that’s why its people are usually so unwelcoming.

• Dude's geographic knowledge leaves much to be desired, but simply put, he sucks at it. He probably wouldn’t even be able to find France, Sweden or New Zealand on the map on the second try, let alone Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Bulgaria, Serbia or Macedonia. He knows practically nothing about other Slavic countries that are not Russia, so it seems to him that they are all similar, like the languages. Although he has to admit that he likes your unusual accent, which is different from the southern American one he is more familiar with. Sometimes he has screw-ups and he can’t understand what you’re saying the first time, so he asks you to repeat it a couple more times and slowly, but this is just another of the many ways to tease you.

• If you want to teach Dude some words in your language, then it’s better to leave this idea because his silly ass doesn’t hear or learn at all! It's not that he doesn't respect your language and your desire to teach him something new, but he just doesn't think he can understand and remember anything. At first it was funny for him to repeat the words after you, but then he simply refused to do it and pouted gruffly. Maybe he’s just tired of it, or maybe he doesn’t want to seem stupid next to you?

• If you want to let him listen to music in your language or watch movies, then you can try, but Dude will often insert comments like “How funny that sounds” or “What does this mean? Can you actually translate everything into English for me?” This is sometimes tiring and annoying.

• When Dude somewhere notices some text in a language he doesn’t understand, he always asks you to translate it, as if you were some kind of philologist or teacher. Well, perhaps in his eyes it is so. True, there were several funny incidents.

“Sweetie, can you translate what is written here?”

“Dude... It's Portuguese. I don't know it.”

“Ah. Didn't notice.”

• Dude wouldn’t mind or even be happy if you cooked him dishes from the cuisine of your country. To be honest, man would be happy with any home-cooked food, since his diet of junk food, irregular meals and alcohol on an empty stomach clearly has a bad effect on him. His favorite dishes cooked by you? Probably borscht, dumplings, varenyky, cabbage rolls, potato pancakes, pierogi, shuba salad. He doesn't have the sweetest tooth, he likes salty, hot or smoked food more than sweet. But sometimes he still asks you to bake some cookies, pies, sweet rolls or make kissel. Once upon a time for Easter you baked a traditional Slavic sweet - paska. And Dude certainly liked it, although he is not the biggest fan of raisins. In general, he likes everything that you cook for him, because he doesn’t know how to cook himself, and you’re afraid to let him near the kitchen.

[threepandas]

Since you don't mind, I'll explain the idea, isekai guy! the reader in one of the goals (hits from the moment of birth), a hothouse guy - a knight from a not very noble family, perhaps in one of the bad endings he dies, protecting the main character with his body ... romantic, right? but the MC does not think so, he is the only heir of the family, he needs to think about himself, and about his mother, and about his sisters (of which there are many, because his father had many concubines). If he dies, then they will all be in danger, because of this the MC decided not to pay attention to the saint - a commoner (MC of the game), and in order to look at girls at all, first you need to successfully marry off your beloved sisters, preferably to worthy men, and for this you need money. He loves all his sisters, his mother is the temporary head of the family (until the end of his studies) with the help of her son accepted the illegitimate children of her husband and is calmly waiting for the time when she can give control to her son (she is confident in him). Platonic! Yandere - this story is his mother, his sisters and his older sisters' husbands (his close friends), some of his sisters he bought out of brothels (it's clear where his father went) and helped them enter society, others he simply supported (girls in the Middle Ages, and they already have life and sugar, and they are also illegitimate children), and was the light. His brothers-in-law (his sisters' husbands) also care about him, since he helped many of them in difficult times in life and brought them together with their beloved spouses, but they are more in the background somewhere. And then the sisters find out about a coquette who seduced a prince, a duke and a magician (or rather, just started doing it), and suddenly began making eyes at their brother. They will not tolerate such a girl near their brother. How they will get rid of her, I will leave to your choice ...

Thank you for your attention. Have a nice day / night / evening

Ooooh this is a VERY good idea! Not sure I could do it justice with my lvl of skill to be honest? Cause it would take at least a few chapters to unfold.

Reader is def a Pillar of Strength. The "I'm going to try and do the right thing, because no one ELSE fucking will" sort? Who is pissed and heart sick at the treatment of his half sisters? Probably wants to bring his father back to life just to murder him himself.

Heck, he even has the concubines to worry about, assuming they were decent ladies. Those are his sister's MOMS. This is less a family and more a small LEGION. Noble blood or not, the house can only afford so much. ESPECIALLY after his father's fucking spending spree!

All HE really has is his body. His strength.

He can be a KNIGHT.

Try desperately to navigate the politics of having so many sister to marry off. Because? It's DEFINITELY making certain factions nervous? Marriages are ALLIANCES. They bind houses together!

Why are you trying to unit so many houses under your command, huh, boy? Up to something? Getting IDEAS???

No! No he is NOT! That and the constant background checks on the suitors. Education for the youngest. Education for HIMSELF. Because maybe if he marries some of his sister's abroad? There was a nice lord several nations over! But, shit, I don't speak that language! Guess I have to learn! Teach HER that language and the culture! Aaaaaaaah!

He?? Doesn't have TIME for romance! Are you KIDDING him?!

This is all ON TOP of managing the MESS of neglect his Family's lands have become! There are land disputes and bandits! Bridge inspections! Tax audits! YOU guys may be able to frolic around with the saintess, but HE is a Border Lord! His lands are both vital to the security of the county AND under his IMMEDIATE command!

Cannon Him was a negligent DUMBASS!

And? Obviously, he wouldn't be impressed by bloodline or wealth. Not for marriage prospects. He's not gonna SELL a family member just to make HIS life easier! Fuck that! We tighten the belt, sell a few ugly paintings, and ignore the sneers. We'll get through this. NO ONE is getting married to an abusive peice of shit on his watch.

So?

Second sons. Bastards. Those of poor birth but Great Ambition. Men who are BRILLIANT and SKILLED and ADORE their beautiful, magnificent, "how the FUCK did I get this lucky, every day is a dream" wives. Who turn around, WITH their beloved wife, and...

Want to Take Care of their poor, poor beleaguered Brother~♡.

The man who gave them THE WORLD. Who SUFFERS under the weight of it. Struggles and fights, exhausted, against an endless sea of FILTH trying to tear his family apart. Destroy him. When was the last time HE rested? Was taken care off? Relaxed? He tries so, so hard to protect THEM. They just... just want to be there for HIM, you know?

Be HIS support.

Have him turn around, relieved, smiling and say "oh thank goodness it's YOU! I can rest easy now, knowing YOU are here. I Needed You Here, You've Got This, I Trust You."

But then? THEN??? As his BELOVED family is gathering around? Preparing to... subtly... GENTLY, mind you! Maneuver him back towards home and out of all this STRESSFUL politics and gold gathering and general drudgery? That frilly little "Saintess", who does NOT seem terribly Holy if you ask them, sets her covetous eyes on THEIR dearest Brother/Brother-in-law/Son!

Don't Saints have TEMPLE Duties? Hmmmm? Unlike THEIR Brother, seems SOMEONE here has NEGLECTED their Duty! Holy my ASS. Have you even stepped FOOT in the Temple in the last DECADE? When did you last PRAY? Perform sacred rights? Cleansing rituals?

Besides! WE don't even FOLLOW those Gods! Yeah, didn't stop to ASK about that, DID YA?! No, you presumptuous *Censored!*! This country may have a STATE religion, but it doesn't enforce it upon others! Because it goes AGAINST said religion! We follow a local God from a different pantheon! *shouted theological rant by Sister number 6, the religious scholarly one.*

It'd be hilarious. One man's journey to take care of his family. That spirals WILDLY out of control with an endless serious of "oh... just one more thing..." and trying to find a SINGLE FUCKING DECENT MAN in the whole shit show of a country for his sister's to marry?

Only to accidentally?

Stumble upon "yandere" as the winning formula, not knowing it. They don't drink. Don't gamble. Would NEVER lay a hand on their beloved spouse. Are romantics and respectful, ambitious and want to make a good life for their family's. Extremely Loyal. Did he mention ADORE their spouses? Not JUST for their youthful beauty? No, no, for THEM. These guys will love them FOREVER.

It's perfect! *each red flag makes a whooshing noise as it sails merrily riiiight over his head* hmm? You hear something?

Unfortunately? Or fortunately, depending on the angle? They are IN to that! Freak to freak behavior! Yandere on Yandere marriages. WHOLE fuckin bloodline is probably cursed now. Rip everyone in THAT region. Cause that's a timebomb waiting to go off horrificly.

But not yet!

Right now? It's just interesting~☆

[dragonzfanfics11]

request - Aiden Clark (Sbg) X reader, fluff? You get free will otherwise pookie 🗣️🔥 ~By @bluenerdd34

Prompt idea - it could be fun doing Aiden Clark x exchange student reader, they could either be fluent in English or still learning but since Aiden moved a lot with his parents it could be interesting. idk I'm spit balling ~Prompt idea by @i-liketoast

Im using this as an opportunity to use some of my French skills (I'm not very good yet but I'm learning lol 😭) so reader is a French exstange student that knows a bit of English

◇Small oneshot + headcanons◇

French will be translated don't worry if you don't speak French lol i also dont know much about exstange students so if its wrong im sorry

Aiden also trys guessing readers language and just gusses random languages idk if I need to put this here but oh well 😭

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You just got to this new school and still learning where some of your classes were and how to get around.

You haven't really interacted with to many people yet besides asking for a few directions here and there from a few teachers or students.

You just barly made it to your history class (is that the class they were in i dont remember 😭) just before the bell and sat down in the only empty seat left in class, which just happend to be next to a loud blond boy that never seems to stop smiling from the handful of times you've seen him in the halls or your other classes

You haven't had much of a chance to talk to him or anyone really since your still learning English so you mostly kept to yourself since you arrived

The boys grin seemed to widen when you walked over to the empty desk and just as you sat down he was suddenly right up next to you making you jump slightly, you were just about to say somthing but he beats you to it still grinning like a phyco

"Hi! I'm aiden! I've never seen you before, you new?"

You nod slightly still shocked from his sudden closeness before speaking

"Uh im y/n, yea im new...."

He seemed to notice your accent very quickly and his eyes seemed to light up with excitement

"Oh you must be that exstanged student I've been hearing rumors about!!"

"Des rumeurs ?" (Rumers?)

"ooo what language is that?? Italian? Mexican? Latin?"

"....it's french"

"Ohh I've never met somone who can speak French before!!"

It wasn't long before the teacher had to shush us so he could start class but aiden did not seem like he was gonna be leaving you alone anytime soon after this

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Headcanon time~

Constantly asks you what random things are in french

-Oh- Whats dog in french??

Chienne for a female dog and chien for a male dog

-Whats cat??

Chatte for a girl and chat for a boy

Also loves confusing you with random English words you don't know just because he can lol

Oh yea! *insert random word you don't know*

"What?"

"Insert word again"

"What are you saying??"

":D"

"pour l'amour de Dieu je te déteste 😑" (for the love of God I hate you 😑)

even though he messes with you a lot he does also help you with some English stuff you don't understand if your out in public

You probably ended up in the phantom dimension with them (js cuz idk what to put if you werent shh-)

He helps you understand some of the plans if you get confused with some of the English and helps you constantly with learning English

He also mightve learned some French for fun mostly and to understand you better

Probably dosent even bring it up either and just randomly says somthing in french to see the groups reaction

"salut les gars!" (Hey guys!)

"oh, Salut aiden" (oh, hey aiden)

":D" "..."

"tenir bon-" (hold up-)

"Wtf are you saying?!?!" -tyler

he probably also convinces you to help him mess with the group (mostly tyler) with speaking french

Basically he just asks you to say random things in french to confuse the shit out of the group lol

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Im sorry if this isn't what you were expecting when you asked for aiden fluff but here's somthing at least! :3

I also won't be taking anymore requests for a while cuz I've been busy lately but I'll try to write some things on my own time till I can take actual requests again!!

[taffybear]

random list of my bay Leo headcanons ❤

working on Raph next! let's see how many ideas i get lol

also opening my inbox for writing (and perhaps even drawing) requests! feel free to drop me an ask <3

literally loves mitski and mac demarco. he likes very indie hopeless romantic type music, it's literally hilarious to catch him just vibing in his feels

SECRETLY HAS PINTEREST BAHAHAHAHA but just for finding poetry and looking at bonsai trees. Mikey found out (like he doesn't have pinterest too??) and they all ended up making fun of him for it to the point where Leo debated deleting the app but ended up forgetting about it.

very specific but he has this unique type of love language where he'll ask you something and without any further questions he will go get or accomplish whatever he hinted at. for example, y'all will just be hanging out, and he'll go, "are you hungry?" and if you just as much nod your head hesitantly he will run to the kitchen and make you a 3 course meal. or, he'll just ask you if you're cold, and if you say yes he brings you a heater and a blanket. he doesn't ask things like, "can i get you a water?" he'll just ask if you're thirsty and go from there.

has the most gorgeous handwriting on the planet. this beautiful cursive print that is lowkey unreadable but so aesthetically pleasing. at first you were shocked but as you got to know him it made lots of sense, literally probably his biggest hobby is just remembering some random thing and then spending weeks straight perfecting it until it's natural for him. he loves to challenge himself to be perfect at literally anything, and his hand writing is one of those instances.

HE'S LITERALLY A VIRGO GUYS HE IS THE DEFINITION OF A VIRGO OH MY GOD

speaks fluent japanese OF COURSE but his brothers don't know it as well as he does (they all know a little at least) and he'll curse them out quietly in japanese behind their backs.

Leo wouldn't say he had a favorite brother of course but he definitely prefers Don's presense over the others. they always go to each other first when they have a problem or just want to rant, and they have a bunch of inside jokes.

after Donnie, Leo's the biggest insomniac. he gets nightmares a lot unfortunately, and most times when he wakes up he physically can't go back to sleep. literally Mikey will get up for a glass of water at 4:37 in the morning and Leo is up doing flips.

very random, but Leo is AWFUL at math. he meant to learn at some point but the time passed and he missed the boat. ofc math is Don's second language and Mikey and Raph couldn't care less (but somehow Mikey always guesses the right answers without doing the correct work??) but Leo is lowkey embarrassed that he struggles with it so much. he can do basic math and most things that come up in daily life like practical equations, but anything past times tables and division he cannot understand. if you come over and need help on your math homework he will try his HARDEST to help you but ultimately he's completely clueless.

always takes bugs outside. if the creepy crawly is creepy enough or makes you screech, he'll whip it with his katana but normally he'll take the time to scoop it up in his hands (literally no fear) and walk it outside calmly.

literally LOVES doing chores. it's like a form of self care for him. folding laundry, sweeping, mopping, washing the dishes, organizing the dojo, he'll literally put on some music and go to town. when he visits you he will literally just start straightening things up and picking things off of the floor. he hates having nothing to do so he'll just ask for something he can clean while y'all chit chat.

incredibly flexible. he can bend every which way, sit comfortably in a split for hours, can bend over IN HALF and grab the back of his legs--he's literally maxed out on flexibility. but splits training is his private time so unless you sneak you won't catch a glance. but when you do, in between of sliding dojo doors, it is... something. like excuse me sir how tf doesn't that hurt your bAWLLS

smells like lavender. dead serious his signature scent is lavender. it's not like he wears cologne or anything, he just lights a lot of lavender incense and candles to the point where if someone even steps foot in his room they walk out aroma-fied.

everyone in the fandom has their personal opinion of who's the best cook and who's the worst cook of the four, and it is finally time for my hot take of the century. i think Leo is by far the best chef, and Raph is the one who can't even make toast right (BUT he can grill i will admit the man can grill!). a lot of people say Mikey is the chef of the family, which i agree with, he enjoys cooking and baking very much, but this doesn't mean the food he makes is good 💀💀💀 he trusts himself over any recipe and so he just throws in whatever he feels like. Leo can't stand being in the kitchen while Mikey is cooking, his ocd can't stand it. this said, you'd think this would mean the guys prefer Leo's cooking over Mikey's but fact is Leo is such a perfectionist he will spend hours working on a meal it's past 11 by the time he's done. and he doesn't take requests, he only makes what he wants and then on top of that the healthnut version. he makes sushi a lot and goes crazy when you bring him salmon.

IS SUCH A DORK BAHAHAHA if you even so much MENTION a book or a show he likes he will blabber for HOURS about it. he knows every single fact there is to know about star trek it is insane. you amuse him not because you're interested of course but he is just so damn adorable when he's talking about something he enjoys (which he rarely gets the chance to without being made fun of LMAO)

[labodabi]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑡 × 𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑒! 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ( part 1 )

This headcanons includes obessive themes. You've been warned!

I think of a yandere poet from the 20th century. Tall, with sharp and somewhat rough features. With dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights at his desk and a naturally tired, melancholy expression.

yandere poet, who despite his appearance is bold, brave, passionate and purposeful. He is not afraid to write about the most problematic and disgusting things that are usually kept silent in society. People considered him a fan of attracting scandals and negativity, but the poet ignores criticism: the poet is a divine gift, whose mouth speaks the truth. It is not his fault that reality is so cruel and unpleasant.

yandere poet who could not get recognition for a long time. It sounds funny and contradictory, but no matter how indifferent and sublime he seemed, a banal human need always makes itself known. He just wanted a person who could understand and appreciate him.

A yandere poet who, deep down, is like a sad puppy trying to find shelter in someone. and one day he found you. Too unexpectedly. You, at a literary evening. Smiling, with eyes sparkling with admiration and joy. Applauding his poem, on which he had worked so painstakingly for so many years. He had never blushed so much in his life. The man smiled awkwardly and bowed, muttering "thank you, thank you." And who would have thought that a simple thank you could become the beginning of a fatal end. Most of all for you, of course After a wonderful evening, at night, in the dim light of a kerosene lamp, he thought of nothing but you. Your smile, your beautiful eyes. He was already tormented by insomnia, but now he could not fall asleep until dawn. The thought of you made him feel a powerful charge of adrenaline and euphoria, which dragged the guy out of his warm bed and shouted "Hey, don't sleep! Keep creating and delighting her ears!"

yandere poet, who for a long time could not pull himself together and get to know you in person, despite the fact that you often saw each other at literary evenings, concerts, performances, and so on. You had some strange, inexplicable power that takes away a man's language and any banal communication skills. At such moments, he looked like a complete idiot: standing like a statue, his mouth open, from which not a word comes out. After such meetings, he becomes incredibly ashamed. Burying his face in a pillow, he promises himself not to approach you anymore. But each time he betrays himself, breaking this promise.

yandere poet, for whom you become a muse. You never leave his mind alone and encourage him to create, create and create again. With your appearance in his life, the yandere poet begins a new stage of poetry, consisting mainly of love lyrics. The new collection, which he had to publish himself, was entirely dedicated to one girl who desperately did not want to leave his head. I think you have already guessed who we are talking about. During this period, the poet receives his first fame. yandere poet who finally manages to befriend you. Of course, it was you who made the first move, because he was too scared and shy. But oh, your melodic voice and gentle hands inspired him to write a new poem again. you had so much in common. You discussed important issues in society and the country, literature, history and just everyday routine life. For you it was just a coincidence, but for a man it means so much. He seriously thinks that it is fate. That God himself decided that you were made for each other. And he is literally obsessed with this idea.

yandere poet who always shares his masterpieces with you first. You smile, sigh and admire the sensuality, passion and unimaginable pain that the man puts into each line. And you don't even suspect that the poet experienced all these emotions because of you. The more the yandere poet becomes famous, the more your relationship becomes surrounded by nasty rumors. You are not happy with this, and you try in every way to refute the stories about your "romance" from the tabloids. But the poet himself does not care what these pathetic, superficial cockroaches say about him. It is low of him to even think about it, and he does not have much time for it. What gossip is there when right now his heart is burning with hellish flames, and no one can extinguish this fire, which is growing stronger every day, burning from the inside and leaving incurable scars? You, frankly, do not really like his indifference on this matter. However, the man, gently stroking your shoulders, assures that you should not worry about it: rumors disappear as quickly as they appear.

yandere poet, who has not yet achieved your love, but has already made a whole list of plans for your future together. This list includes plans for a wedding. The poet's head has never even thought that you could love someone else. Next to you, he loses all rationality, puts on pink glasses and does not want to see the truth. because you talk to him so enthusiastically, smile, twirl your hair...what is this if not love? You just don't want to talk about it directly, wanting him, as a man, to do everything himself. And so be it. He will play by your rules But something is wrong. Wait... who were you with at that concert? Who were you blushing in front of, gracefully waving your hand in greeting? Whose letter are you reading with such satisfaction? Gritting his teeth, the man politely asks you about the young man you met at the inauguration. However, in response he only receives more questions. Could it have been an affair on the side? No, he desperately does not want to believe it. You were so close, a happy future awaited you (which he himself invented). There was such a spark between you... did it really mean nothing to you? Was it an empty phrase for you? But it is not so. Your connection was predetermined by the universe. but it seems like there's a glitch in the universe. Poet will soon find out that you're dating another guy. From your own lips. You told him about it one day at his tea table. He almost choked. Judging by the joyful smile and the glimmer of hope in his eyes, you really hoped for his support and congratulations. After all, you are no longer strangers to each other: like-minded people engaged in creativity. How naive. For a long time, he could not say a word. His eyes stared at you, without blinking. His face was completely emotionless. He sat like that for several minutes, like a stone statue. Behind this was a whole fire, which the man could not contain this time.

A yandere poet, whose death grip immediately appears on your hand. Tears well up on his face, and his lips tremble, trying to mumble: "no, this can't be... this is impossible." You expected any reaction from a creative person, but clearly not this. You try to ask what happened, but he ignores the questions, there is no opportunity to pull your wrist away and get up either. The man's other hand, shaking, harshly strokes your cheek. Desperately, as if he is afraid of not remembering how your soft skin feels on his palm. As if he is afraid that you will fly away like a free bird and never return, as soon as he loosens his grip. " no, that can't be...why? Have I really meant nothing to you all this time? "You blink your eyes in fear. "What do you mean!?" He leans dangerously close to you. Your lips are a millimeter away from a kiss. "How can you not understand this? That I love you, after all!!!" Oh, he shouldn't have given in to his anger. His cheek immediately flared up from a sharp and loud slap. Without turning his head in your direction, the poet tries to comprehend what is happening. It hurts not so much from the blow, but from the fact that you left him. Pushed him away. Renounced him. " ..."Sorry. I think I have to go" - the last words chilled his fiery heart. You quickly get up from the chair and, casually throwing on your coat, run out into the street. From that day on, you no longer appeared in his house.

A yandere poet whose whole world collapsed at the same moment. He wastes ink only to write tons of letters of apology. About what an idiot he is, that he made the worst mistake in the world, that he is not enough for such a beautiful woman like you, but still can't help but love you. The man sends these letters every day, but it's all useless. There is no answer. The fire in his heart becomes stronger and stronger, preventing him from thinking and creating. Even from simply breathing. Well, from you... there is not even a cold. Absolute emptiness that drives a desperate poet crazy.

You doomed him to real suffering.

[seelestia]

we missed you, welcome back!

i had a thought for a few days now and then i saw that you were back and i just had to share this

so imagine that you wake up in teyvat one day and you speak a different language bc they probably don’t speak english in teyvat, and no one understands you, but then there’s the smart haravatat ppl like alhaitham and faruzan (idk if there is anyone else) who use their smart language brains to figure out how to talk to you, i think that would be super cute

.💭

BRAINROT ANON— my comrade on tumblr, i missed you too!! i'm so honored that you thought of me aww :') you knew i'd be glad to brainrot with you anytime!! /gen. i focused less on how they communicate with you, but rather more on the events surrounding this concept. hope ya don't mind! so good to see you again <3

extra note: this was written from a platonic pov! yk those movies where a protagonist helps out their 'otherworldly' companion to go back to their home world? yeah, that's what i'm going for here. movies like 'home' and 'cj7' came to mind immediately. that's us and faruzan!! oh, and alhaitham is here too, i guess. /j

-

imagine waking up one day to find yourself transported to the middle of the hypostyle desert. the sun burns, scorching hot on your skin then suddenly, it's gone? oh no, some strange turquoise lady is peering at your face with disapproval. you suspect she thinks you're a reckless traveler who forgot to bring ample supplies to a place like this. “███ ███ ████ ███?” she says and you realize you don't understand a word.

[translation: did your water storage run out?]

imagine the confusion on faruzan's face when you mumble a few sentences? noises? grumbles? she specializes in semiotics (and ruins), not speech pathology so how is she supposed to know? anyway, she graciously takes you in! and brings you back to her residence. yes, yes, how generous, applaud her later but she cannot hand you over to the akademiya just yet. (who knows what they'll do with you? you're obviously not of this world.)

imagine trying to communicate with faruzan using other means besides language. one of them includes pointing at the fresh apple slices on her kitchen counter. she gives them to you and notes how you say 'tenk yu' (?) which she takes as a sign of gratitude. of course, she also jots it down in her notes alongside her observations. how interesting.

and she manages the grand feat of roping alhaitham in, somehow someway. he's a youngster (everyone is a youngster if you're one hundred years old at this point) far too solitary for her liking — plus, notoriously hard to convince but that helps: he's someone who won't tattle! that's her logic here. she even had to invite him over for dinner and introduce him to you herself! ugh, she really had no more funds left to spare... so this better works.

it did, oddly. alhaitham's first instinct is to question and his deductions conclude that you are far too genuine (for lack of a better word) for all of this to be a ruse. the way you pointed at his fit and gave him a thumbs-up he assumed that you meant to say you thought it's “cool”.

alhaitham observes you; when you speak, none of the words sound familiar to his experienced ears and trust him, his quota of languages exceed many. he is not here to brag, so don't twist it. nor do you seem to understand anything whenever he or faruzan speaks. you don't even react in the slightest when he mentions or addresses you directly, only a tap on the shoulder works. it's safe to assume you do not know teyvatian language.

the guy in gray green turns to madam faru with a hum. she taught you to refer to her that way. it took hard work and lots of apple slices. “██... ██ ███ ████ █ ████?” he asks.

[translation: so... do you have a plan?]

“██ ███ █████!” she puffs out her chest in determination.

[translation: in due time!]

he sighs.

you blink, eternally confused.