#I was physically unable to skip him

[skyeslittlecorner]

Tails for All! - Abaddon edition

Other parts: Kings | Gehenna | Tartaros | Hades | Avisos | Nilfheim | Paradise Lost

Dantalian

A small fluffy ball, slightly elongated towards the top. It looks like a deer, but with black fur instead of brown.

He's glad he has small horns because it makes him look less dangerous. He is even happier with his little tail. It's cute and matches Sailor Moon's uniform more than any nasty weapon. He only wishes you could write on it.

Asmodeus doesn't like his tail because, unlike the other two, he can't hold Dantalian by the tail like on a leash. Dantalian offered to attach barbed wire to his tail. You don't know how this conversation went further.

His tail smells lovely, like almonds. Why? Nobody knows.

The best anti-stress squeeze in all of Hell.

Sensitiveness 10/10. Stand on it. Crush it. Tear out the fur. Set it on fire. The more you abuse it, the better.

He will be honestly surprised when you start stroking and kissing him, but... hey, it's actually nice too!

Phenix

A long, feathery tail. The feathers are blurry because they are made of pure flames, you can't see where the feathers end and the fire begins. The whole thing is long up to the feet.

The color of his tail depends on his emotions, in arousal the shades change between red, orange and white when he cums (so usually).

Asmodeus asked Beelzebub to give Phenix a piercing at the base of his tail. Beel could not agree, because he was not his citizen, but under his watchful eye, Asmo did it himself and put a padlock on Phenix, thanks to which his tail does not burn inanimated objects.

Phenix can actually regulate whether his tail will burn someone or not, but he's too excited to consider such things.

Perfect for fighting. Angel feathers smell beautiful when they burn. In addition, severed limbs can be burned to prevent the enemy from bleeding out too quickly.

When not excited, his tail curls up and is much smaller and about the size of Stolas. At least that's what Morax said. No one else can confirm or deny.

Sensitiveness ?/10. How do you want to touch the fire? 

In fact, you saw that a one person can touch Phenix's tail whenever he wants. But Asmo is a mean bastard and all you will hear from him is "try it yourself".

In bed it can only be used as a night lamp. At least until you teach that little bird to keep his emotions in check (good luck).

Ronove

Calf-length, very hard, covered with stone-hard skin, with a ball the size of a fist at the end. Morningstar, actually. Dark, gray skin, rough. He actually has patches like a dinosaur. 

The spines are long, sharp and hooked at the tip. They will tear out a piece of meat if they get stuck. 

Can retract spikes. He controls them much better than Phenix controls his flame. When you're dealing with just the ball, it's very nicely slick and in the right shape... wait, that should have been at the end.

When he was younger and Asmodeus told him to shut up, he put his tail in his mouth. Now it's a bit too big. You can lick it too... wait, yes, at the end. Again. Oops. 

Perfect massager. Heavy enough that you can feel it running along your back and shoulders, but not overwhelming.

Sensitiveness 7/10. He loves playing with his tail when you are together. The tip and base are the most sensitive. Play with them, but not too gently, spankings and whips are most desirable.

Rough skin is perfect for grinding. Besides, he'd love to see it.

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…well, we know about one more figure from this country. And I have an unhealthy obsession with him. He's so hot he burned a hole in my brain, and he isn't even out yet. We only know his appearance from Love Unholyc, but just let's have some fun, I'll try to fit him something. We'll see how this post ages lol.

Asmodeus

Scorpion tail. As thick as his arms, black as his hair, hard and shiny, with a sting at the end.

At first, his tail is confused with Beel and vice versa. In fact, they are two completely different things. Beel is much more flexible and thinner, while Asmo is larger and harder.

He likes to sit on a chaise-longue-like throne in a brothel-looking hall, hold you in his lap, wrap his deadly tail around you, and watch Dantesque scenes at his feet with his queen by his side. The only thing missing is popcorn.

Like his hair, the tail is wrapped in barbed wire. Normal devils would prefer it had some sort of cover on it. The other kings wondered whether they should really do one to him.

Of course it's poisonous. The only antidote is to drink milk from his horn. If you don't please him, he will sting you to try harder. He likes watching you fight for your life…

...but he will never lose himself enough to do real harm to you. I mean, kill you. He will detoxify you long before you pass out.

By the way, do I need to mention that this poison is the strongest aphrodisiac in hell?

Sensitiveness 4/10. As opposed to being the embodiment of lust, his tail is used for fighting rather than caressing.

Yes, he will try to put his stinger in you. No, this is not a good idea. Of course he knows it, but he loves the horror and outrage on your face.

[gilbertscurls]

Taste ➵ Matt Sturniolo

warnings: SMUT, virgin!matt, softdom!reader, unprotected p in v, heavy on praise and consent, oral!f!receiving, can't tell if it's cringe or not lmao

synopsis: on their first anniversary, y/n and matt finally decide to go all the way.

“I can't believe it's been a year already.” You let out a quiet sigh.

Matt nodded, the thought of their year together bringing a smile to his lips.

“Yeah. It feels like just yesterday we had our first date,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

He remembered every detail of that day, the way you looked, the way he'd been so nervous he felt like he might throw up. But he'd found the courage to ask you out, and you'd said yes. It felt like a dream come true.

Matt's gaze drifted from your face to the room around them. The soft, warm light of the lamp by the bed was casting shadows on the walls, the room cozy and intimate. The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by their soft breathing. Matt couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment, a feeling of being right where he belonged.

“I can't believe how lucky I am,” he murmured, his voice low. “To have you, I mean.”

“I'm the lucky one,” you whispered.

Matt chuckled softly at your words, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

“Oh, please,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I'm the one who gets to hold you like this, to call you mine. I think I won the lottery.”

You giggled, a sound that always made Matt's heart skip a beat.

“I can't argue with that,” you conceded. You snuggled closer to him, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “But I get to hold you back, so we're even.”

Matt's hand moved to your back, gently tracing circles on your skin. The feel of you against him, the sound of your voice, was comforting and soothing, but it also stirred a different kind of feeling in him. A feeling of desire and longing.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer, his fingers tracing your spine. Matt's heart thrummed with anticipation. The fact that you've never done more than kiss had been on his mind a lot lately. He wanted you, more than he could say. And tonight felt different, special. It was their anniversary, a milestone in their relationship. A part of him ached to take things further, to show you how much he loved you. But his insecurities and anxieties held him back. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he disappointed you? The thought was terrifying.

“Baby,” he finally said, breaking the silence between them. He swallowed hard, his heart beating a little faster. “Can I ask you something?” His voice was nervous, and he was suddenly regretting asking you anything at all.

At his anxious tone, you knitted your brows and turned to face him. “Of course. What is it?”

Matt looked down at you, his thoughts a swirling mess of anxiety and desire. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “It's… It's our anniversary,” he started, his voice a little shaky. “And I was wondering…”

He trailed off, the words failing him. He felt like a complete idiot. He'd never been good with expressing his desires, especially when it came to physical intimacy.

You gazed at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. You could tell he was nervous, and it made you worry. You reached up, gently caressing his cheek. “Yes?” you prompted, your voice gentle and encouraging.

Matt's heart fluttered at your touch, and he took another deep breath, summoning his courage. “I was just… I was thinking…” he mumbled, his words barely more than a whisper. “Tonight, I was hoping we could… Take things further.”

He felt a blush rising up his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

“Oh,” you said quietly. “Are you sure? Like, 100% sure?”

Matt nodded quickly, his heart hammering in his chest. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice trembling slightly. “I'm sure. I've been thinking about it for a while now. I… I want you, baby.”

Saying the words out loud sent a shockwave of adrenaline through him. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and wonderful all at once. But he knew he needed to be honest, to lay it all out on the table.

“I'm just... nervous,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I've never done anything more than kissing, and I don't… I don't know if I'll be any good.”

“It's okay,” you whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek. “But are you sure? I don't want you to do anything you'll regret.”

Matt leaned into your touch, the warmth and tenderness of your hand calming him down a little. But your words also made him pause. Was he sure? He desperately wanted this, wanted you. But his insecurities were still looming, a dark cloud in the back of his mind.

“I'm sure,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “I want this. With you.”

“All right.” You nodded. “How… How far are we talking?”

Matt felt his cheeks flush even more, but he forced himself to keep eye contact with you. He appreciated your directness, and your willingness to talk about this openly.

“I, uh…” he began, his voice still a little shaky. “Everything, I guess. If you want that.”

He swallowed hard, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He hoped he wasn't pressuring you or coming on too strong.

You felt your heart skipping a beat and heat already pooling in your lower abdomen. “I do,” you said softly. “But I want to make sure you're completely comfortable.”

Hearing your confirmation sent a pang of excitement through Matt. He felt a mix of emotions, desire, affection, and a hint of fear. But overruling it all was a deep sense of trust. Your words, your reassurance, it was all he needed.

“I am,” he said, his voice a little steadier now. “I trust you, baby. Completely.”

A small, tender smile crept onto your face. “Okay.” Your voice was so soft, so sweet, so kind. “Do you… Want me to take the lead?”

Matt's heart leaped at your question, a mix of relief and desire coursing through him. The idea of you taking control was both frightening and exciting. He hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “I… I want you to take the lead.”

You put one of your hands on his cheek before slowly and gently pressing your lips against his.

Matt's heart skipped a beat at the feel of your lips on his. He'd kissed you countless times before, but this kiss felt different, more intimate. He let out a soft sigh against your mouth, all his anxieties and worries melting away as your touch filled his senses. He brought his own hands up to cup your face, his fingers gently tracing your jaw, his touch soft and reverent.

The kiss deepened, their mouths moving against each other in a slow, languorous dance. Matt could feel the heat pooling in his stomach, the desire for you growing with every passing second. The fear was still there, but it was muffled by the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. He pulled you closer, his hands moving to your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin.

Not stopping the kiss, You moved to straddle his lap, your knees on both sides of his thighs.

Matt felt a shiver run down his spine as you straddled him, your body suddenly so close and so warm. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, their bodies now pressed together in a way you’ve never been before. The feeling of your weight on his lap ignited a new wave of desire in him, his kisses growing even more intense. He wanted you, desperately.

“You okay?” you mumbled into his lips.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as you spoke, the feeling of your words more like breath than a sound. He couldn't even form a response, his mind completely consumed by your touch and the taste of your lips. He managed a nod, a weak yes whispered against your mouth. He was more than okay. He was on fire.

Matt groaned involuntarily at the feel of your tongue against his lip, the sound more a mixture of pleasure and need than anything else. He immediately parted his lips, granting you access without a second thought. His hands moved to your thighs, his fingers gripping your flesh as he opened his mouth to her.

The kiss grew hungrier, more urgent. Their tongues tangled together, exploring each other without restraint. Matt was lost in the sensation, in the feeling of you in his lap, your body pressed against him. He could hardly think straight, his mind clouded by desire and need. His hips involuntarily bucked slightly, seeking more contact.

“Impatient, huh?” You teased softly, pulling away a little.

Matt let out a low growl of frustration as you pulled away, a mix of desire and irritation in his expression. He was getting so lost in the moment, he was aching for more. Your words, your tease only heightened his need.

“Baby…” he breathed, his voice a mixture of pleading and impatience. “Don't tease me.”

You smiled tenderly before grabbing his both hands and sliding them under your crop top, urging him to take it off.

Matt let out a sharp breath at the feel of your skin under his hands, your top soft and warm. Without hesitation, he moved his hands slowly up your stomach, his fingers exploring the planes of your skin as he helped you pull off your crop top. It fell to the floor, forgotten. His eyes went wide at the sight of your half-naked upper body, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Oh God,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

Matt couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to. His eyes were drawn to your chest, his breath hitching at the sight. It was as if his brain was shorting out, his desire for you overwhelming everything else. He felt a mix of awe, arousal, and a hint of nervousness. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly very dry.

“You're… You're so beautiful,” he managed to whisper, his voice thick with want.

You smiled softly, your fingertips tracing his shoulders over the t-shirt. “Can I take it off, baby?”

Matt's muscles twitched under your touch, your words sending a shudder down his spine.

“Yes,” he breathed, his voice a little shaky. “Please.”

He wanted to feel your skin on his, the touch of your fingers on his bare chest. He raised his arms to help you as you tugged his t-shirt over his head, discarding it to the side.

Matt's muscles twitched under your touch, your words sending a shudder down his spine. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice a little shaky. “Please.”

He wanted to feel your skin on his, the touch of your fingers on his bare chest. He raised his arms to help you as you tugged his t-shirt over his head, discarding it to the side.

Once the shirt was off, his chest was now bare, exposed to your touch and gaze. Matt felt a mixture of vulnerability and excitement, his heart beating fast in his chest. He could feel your eyes on him, your fingers tracing soft patterns on his skin. He wanted you, all of you.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice ragged with need. “Touch me.”

Obediently, You ran your fingertips through his shoulders, to his arms, to his chest. “God, you're so beautiful,” you whispered breathlessly.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as your fingers glided over his skin, your touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. He shivered under your touch, a small moan escaping his lips. Your words, your voice, your touch — it was all almost too much to bear.

“No, you are,” he breathed, his own hands moving to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So beautiful. So perfect."

You were doing everything so slowly and gently, knowing that he'd never done anything like that before. You wanted to make it so good for him. Matt was both grateful and frustrated by your slow and gentle pace. Grateful that you were so patient, and so understanding, but frustrated because he just wanted more. He wanted to be consumed by you, to lose himself in your touch. But he knew you were doing it for his sake, to make it easier for him, and that only made him love you more.

“Baby,” he gasped, his voice pleading. “Please. More. I need more.”

You smirked before leaning a little closer to his face. “You want more?”

Matt looked at you, his eyes dark with desire, his expression a mixture of need and pleading.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice a little breathless. “I want more. I want all of you.”

He reached up to you, his hands skimming up your sides, his touch firm and possessive. He wanted to touch you, to feel you, to lose himself in you.

“Please,” he added, his voice a low, desperate plea.

You held his face as you kissed him once again, the kiss sweet and full of emotion.

Matt returned the kiss hungrily, his lips moving against yours with a mix of desperation and affection. He couldn't get close enough to you, his hands roaming over your bare skin, wanting to feel you, to touch you everywhere. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with a new, more urgent fervor. He could feel his desire for you growing, overpowering everything else.

“Baby…” he breathed into your mouth. “Please, I… I need you.”

Matt swore, his head falling back on the pillow as you ground your hips with his. The feel of you grinding against him, the friction, the heat, and the pressure — it was almost too much. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, trying to pull you closer, to increase the contact. A low moan escaped his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Oh God,” he panted, his eyes squeezed shut. “Baby… That feels… That feels so good.”

“You sound so pretty,” you praised breathlessly.

Matt blushed at your words, his heart fluttering at your praise. He let out another soft moan as you rode against him, his body responding instinctively. He was completely lost in the sensation, the feel of your body against his driving him mindless. He tried to form words, to respond, but all that came out was another low groan.

“God… Baby,” he breathed, his hands still holding onto your hips. “Don't… Don't stop.”

His body was on fire, his every nerve alive with desire. He could feel his own hardness growing beneath you, a testament to how much he needed you. His hips canted upward, seeking more contact, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. He opened his eyes, looking up at you, his gaze filled with a mix of want and awe.

“Sweetheart… I… I don't know how much… How much longer I can last,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

“It's okay, baby,” you cooed, halting your movements.

Matt let out a small, involuntarily whine as you stopped moving, his body protesting the lack of sensation. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire and frustration, but also with a hint of relief. He was so close to the edge, he didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

“I… I thought you would keep going,” he breathed, his voice a combination of disappointment and need.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you teased, your hand running down his chest, from his shoulder to his happy trail, before finally resting on the buckle of his belt.

Matt's breath hitched at your touch, your hand igniting a trail of fire on his skin. He watched as your hand moved down his chest, down his stomach, to the buckle of his belt. A wave of heat washed over him, making his entire body shiver with anticipation.

“Patience,” he echoed, his voice a rough whisper. “You're… You're killing me.”

You gently hooked your finger under the belt. “Can I?”

Matt nodded, his eyes locked on yours, his breathing shallow and ragged. He trusted you completely and wanted you to take whatever you needed from him. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “Do whatever you want. I'm all yours.”

“So good for me,” you praised before expertly unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans down.

Matt's heart leaped at your praise, a sense of pride and satisfaction filling him. He lifted his hips slightly, helping you pull his jeans down. He was now only in his boxer briefs, the material doing little to conceal his arousal. He was completely exposed, both physically and emotionally, and he could do nothing but lay there and look up at you, his desire for you burning in his gaze.

“Only for you,” he whispered, his voice a quiet admission.

“Already so worked up for me, huh?” you asked breathlessly, a small smile on your face.

Matt blushed at your comment, the heat spreading across his cheeks. He could feel the evidence of his arousal straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. He was so worked up, so needy, so desperate for your touch. He swallowed hard, his voice husky and raw.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on yours. “Only for you. I want you so badly, sweetheart.”

You sat back on his lap, caressing his cheek. “You want to try to take off my bra, baby?”

Matt's eyes widened at your suggestion, a mix of excitement and anxiety washing over him. He'd never taken off a bra before, and he was suddenly unsure of himself. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“Yes,” he rasped, his voice betraying his nervousness. “I… I want to try.”

His hands moved to your back, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached for the clasp of your bra. He tried to steady his breathing, but his heart was racing, his mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings.

“I… I'll probably be bad at this,” he admitted, his voice a hesitant whisper.

“It's okay,” you assured him softly. “I don't mind.”

Matt nodded, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He fumbled with the clasp for a few seconds, his fingers feeling both clumsy and inadequate. But finally, with a soft click, the bra came undone. The cups fell loose, revealing your bare chest to him. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes wide, his breath caught in his throat.

“Oh… Wow,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desire.

You smiled a little sheepishly.

Matt's eyes drank you in, every inch of your beautiful skin, every curve and contour. His hands were itching to touch you, to feel your flesh under his fingertips.

“You are… You are so exquisite,” he breathed, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and admiration. “You take my breath away.”

Noticing his hands twitching, your smile softened. “You can touch me.”

Matt couldn't believe you were actually giving him permission to touch you, to touch this beautiful woman who was willingly sitting on his lap, your body bare for him. He lifted his hands, his fingers hovering slightly above your skin.

“I… I want to,” he breathed, his voice a shaky whisper. He wanted to feel you so badly, but he was also afraid of doing something wrong, of upsetting you in some way. “Are you… Are you sure it's okay?”

“I am. Don't think so much. Just… Feel.”

Matt took a deep breath, allowing the words to sink in. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting go of the nagging thoughts and doubts in his mind. When he opened them again, his gaze was clear, his expression relaxed.

And then he touched you.

His fingers skimmed lightly over your skin, slowly, delicately, exploring the soft planes of your chest. A shiver ran through him as he felt the heat of your flesh, the suppleness of your skin.

“God, you're so soft,” he whispered.

Sensing that he was still holding back, You smiled softly and grabbed his hand, putting it directly on your breast, and gently squeezing his fingers.

Matt gasped, his breath hitching in his throat as your hand guided his. The feeling of your flesh, your breast, under his palm was almost too much. It was so soft, so warm. He could feel your heart beating rapidly under his fingers. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Oh God,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “This… This feels… Incredible.”

His fingers traced a slow, tentative path over your breast, his touch firm but gentle. He could feel your own heart hammering against his palm, a perfect rhythm. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of desire.

“Is… Is this okay?” he breathed, his voice a low, raspy whisper. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“It's okay,” you assured him softly. “I'll tell you if anything. Just… Touch me.”

Matt nodded tightly, the lump in his throat suddenly replaced by a wave of desire and need. He took your words to heart, letting go of any lingering doubt or fear. He allowed himself to really touch you, to move his fingers over your skin, to feel the contours of your body.

His other hand moved up to your other breast, gently kneading it in his palm. “Is… Is this good?” he whispered, his voice almost inaudible over the sound of his own heartbeat. “You feel… So perfect, so soft.”

You let out a shaky breath. “So good.”

Matt felt a sense of power and satisfaction wash over him, emboldening him. He could feel your breath catching in your chest, hear the hitch in your voice. He knew he was doing something right, something that made you feel good. He continued to caress you, his touch becoming more confident, more sure of itself.

His breath felt hot and heavy, his heart hammering against his ribcage. “Can I… Can I kiss these, too?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

You felt a sudden rush of so much love for this boy. “Of course. Anything you want.”

Matt's heart soared at your permission, at the way you were giving yourself to him so completely. You were so wonderful, so understanding. He leaned forward, his lips coming to rest on your breast, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. He was gentle at first, his touch light and tentative. But then he began to kiss you more firmly, more hungrily.

And then, a moan of his name escaped your lips.

Matt's heart leaped at the sound of your moan, the way you said his name. It was like music to his ears. He pulled back slightly, looking up at you with a mixture of awe and desire.

“Did… Did I do something right?” he asked, his voice breathless and shaky. “The way you said my name… It sounded… It sounded like it felt good, like you liked it.”

“You're doing… Incredible,” you whispered breathlessly.

Matt felt a surge of pride and satisfaction coursing through him. He couldn't believe this was actually happening, that he was pleasuring this incredible woman, making you feel this way. But the knowledge that he was pleasing you, making you moan and breathless, only fueled his own desire, his own need for you.

He continued to kiss you, his mouth moving across your chest, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. “More,” he murmured, his voice low and ragged. “Can I… Can I do more?”

“Anything.”

Matt felt a wave of heat and adrenaline wash over him at your word, your permission. Anything? The possibilities, the desires, raced through his mind. He wanted to explore you, to touch you, to make you feel things you'd never felt before.

His mouth moved down your body, his tongue tracing a path down your sternum, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your stomach. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of need. “Can I… Can I taste you?”

You pulled yourself up on your elbows to look at him. He looked so pretty, looking up at you from between your thighs. But it was his first time, and you wanted to make it special do him. “Are you sure? I want it to be about you. You don't have to…”

Matt paused, looking up at you. Your concern for him, your consideration, made his heart swell. He could feel your gaze on him, warm and gentle. He knew you would never force him to do something he wasn't ready for. But he could also feel his own desire burning beneath the surface.

He nodded, his voice steady and sure. “I'm sure,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “I… I want to. I want to taste you. I want to please you… If you're okay with that.”

You nodded shakily, before bunching up the fabric of your skirt in your hands, pulling it down and revealing your little lacy panties.

Matt's eyes widened at the sight before him. Your panties were a beautiful lace, delicate and feminine. He could feel his mouth go dry, his heart quickening in his chest. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with an almost reverent awe.

His hands tentatively moved up from your thighs, tracing gentle patterns on your bare skin as they crept closer to your panties. “You're so beautiful,” he breathed, his voice laced with need and desire.

He leaned forward, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. His hands were still tracing feather-light patterns on your thighs, but he was now just millimeters away from your underwear. His heart was hammering, his mind a cacophony of emotions and sensations. “May I… May I touch you there?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“Please,” you whispered breathlessly, your chest already heaving.

Matt didn't need to be told twice. With a mixture of nerves and confidence, he let his fingers graze across the fabric of your panties, just touching the soft material. He could feel the heat radiating from you, the moisture already seeping through. He swallowed hard, his own body responding to the feel of you.

His gaze flicked up to your eyes momentarily, seeking reassurance, before returning to his task. “Is… Is this right?” he whispered, his voice a little shaky.

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. “Perfect.”

Matt felt a rush of relief and satisfaction at your words. He was doing well, making you feel good. He continued to touch you, to move his fingers across the fabric of your panties, feeling the heat and the dampness beneath.

As his touch grew more confident, more assured, he found himself getting more and more excited. His own breathing grew shaky, his heart racing. “Can… Can I do more?” he breathed, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Whatever you want,” you mewled. “I'll tell you if anything.”

Matt's heart fluttered at your response. The trust, the permission, it was almost too good to be true. He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But all he found was love, desire, and a willingness to explore.

He took a breath, trying to steady himself. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice a little shaky. He moved his fingers down to the edge of your panties, toying with the thin strip of fabric. “I… I want to touch you without these in the way…”

He paused, waiting for your permission. He was already so close, already feeling the heat and dampness of your through the thin fabric, but he wouldn't do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire but laced with the need for your approval.

You nodded. “Do whatever you want.”

Matt felt a shudder run through him at your words. Your permission, your trust in him, it was like fuel for the fire that was burning within him. He gently pulled at your panties, guiding them down your legs, discarding them on the floor.

The sight of you, bare and fully exposed to him, was almost too much. His breath caught in his throat, and he had to force himself to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed. His fingers itched to touch you, to feel the smoothness and heat of your skin, but he waited, looking up for your nod of approval.

When you gave it, he moved quickly. His fingers traced a path up your thighs, moving closer and closer to your core. His own breathing was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest, and he struggled to keep his hands from shaking as they got closer and closer to the most intimate part.

His fingers grazed over your skin, feeling the heat radiating off of you. He could feel the wetness there, the evidence of your arousal, and he couldn't help but shudder. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and hungry, his tongue flicking out to moisten his suddenly dry lips.

“You're… You're so wet,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips.

Your breath hitched. “Only for you.”

His heart leaped at hearing your words, at the idea that he was the only cause of your arousal. He could feel the power and the responsibility that came with it, and it only stoked the fire within him.

His fingers were now tracing gentle circles around your entrance, his touch light and tentative. He couldn't believe he was doing this, touching you this way. “Can… Can I… Can I put a finger inside?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Yeah,” you whispered shakily. “Please.”

Matt could feel his breath catch in his chest at your words, at the desire in your voice. His whole body was trembling, almost overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment. He nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes fixed on you.

He gently, carefully, eased a single finger inside, a choked gasp escaping his lips as he felt your warmth and wetness around him. As he moved his finger, You suddenly let out a gasp.

Matt was instantly worried, his finger freezing in place. “Did… Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice full of concern. He looked up at you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“N-No, it's just…” Your face flushed. “Your fingers are longer than what I'm used to.”

Matt felt a sudden rush of pride at your words, his chest swelling. He had to admit, he'd always been a bit self-conscious about his long thin fingers. But the idea that they were causing her pleasure, that they were giving her a feeling you weren’t used to, that felt incredible.

He curled his finger slightly, exploring your depth. “Is… Is this okay…?”

Your breath hitched as he reached that one spot, and you almost screamed out loud. “Oh my…”

Matt was surprised by your reaction, the sound you made nearly sending him over the edge. But he was determined to make you feel good, to make you feel better than you'd ever felt before.

He kept his finger where it was, gently applying pressure to that one spot, a smirk on his face. “Is this the right spot, hm?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt,” you mumbled in pleasure.

Matt couldn't help but smile at your reaction, at the way you responded to his touch. He couldn't believe he was doing this to you, causing you to feel these things. And he couldn't resist the urge to tease you a little bit.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, his voice low and dripping with barely restrained desire.

“Add a second finger,” you instructed him softly. “And try to move them, curling them to hit that spot.”

At your instructions, Matt felt another wave of arousal wash over him. You were telling him what to do. You were guiding him, showing him how to please you. It was a new experience, but one he was more than happy to explore.

He obeyed, slowly adding a second finger to the first. The feeling was tighter, but also warmer. He began to move his fingers, just as you'd told him to.

The angle was a little clumsy at first, but then he felt that one spot, and he applied gentle pressure, curling his fingers at just the right angle. “Like…” he started, his voice a little breathless. “… like this?”

“Oh fuck…” you moaned, your back arching a little in pleasure.

Matt found himself breathing harder at the sight of you arching your back, at the way you were responding to his touch. He knew he was doing something right, and it only fueled his desire to please you more, to make you feel even better.

“Is… Is this good?” he asked, his voice a little shaky. “Does this feel good?”

“So good, fuck, so good…”

Matt's heart was racing, his breath coming in heavy pants. He loved hearing your praise, and the way you reacted to his touch. It was something he'd never felt before, and he wanted more, wanted to make you feel even better.

He kept his fingers moving and applying pressure, his gaze darting up to your face, watching your expressions. “I want you… I want you to feel… To feel so good,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of breathless and earnest.

Your noises of pleasure, your arches, and your moans, it was all driving him wild. He wanted to make you fall apart, to make you forget everything but him and whatever he was doing to you.

“You… You want to try to use your mouth?” you asked breathlessly in between the moans.

Matt's heart quickened at your request. He'd wanted to do that, too, but he hadn't been sure if you'd be okay with it. But now that you'd asked, he was more than happy to comply.

“Yes,” he responded, his voice hoarse with desire. “I… I want to. I want to taste you, too.”

He gently withdrew his fingers and slowly moved further down your body, his heart thudding in his chest. He settled between your legs, looking up at you as his breath came in hot, uneven pants against you.

As he tasted you, as he felt you against his lips, his tongue, his mind was overwhelmed. He hadn't expected this, but it was better than he'd ever imagined. You tasted sweet and tangy, and it only spurred him on.

He forgot about feeling out of his depth, he forgot about potential mistakes or awkward moments. All he wanted to do was pleasure you, to make you feel good. His tongue moved and explored, and his eyes fluttered up at you. He'd never seen you so undone, so lost in pleasure, and the knowledge that he was causing it only deepened his desire to please you more.

“God, you're so good at that,” you breathed out shakily.

Matt felt a wave of pride and pleasure wash over him at your words. He continued, his tongue moving over you, his lips applying gentle suction. Hearing your approval, feeling you respond beneath him, was intoxicating. But he was relentless, determined to bring you to the brink, to make you lose control completely.

His hands moved up, gently caressing your thighs and stomach, seeking to give you even more pleasure. He wanted you to feel good, to feel loved, to feel worshipped.

And eventually, your moans got even louder as you released on his mouth, his name on your lips like a prayer. Matt could feel your body shaking, could hear your voice as you cried out his name. It was a moment he knew he'd never forget, a moment that would be ingrained in his memory forever.

He slowly withdrew, crawling back up beside you. He couldn't seem to find his voice, his heart still hammering in his chest.

He was a little amazed at himself, too, he had to admit. He hadn't been entirely sure what he was doing, but he'd just seemed to know. He'd found a way to bring you pleasure, to send you over the edge, to make you sing his name like a song.

He found his voice again, his voice low, rough. “Was that… Was that good for you? Was I okay?” His heart was still beating fast, his body thrumming with a mix of adrenaline and pleasure.

“God, you're… You're unreal,” you panted out.

Matt couldn't help but smile at your words, the praise fueling his ego. “I… I am?” he asked, unable to hide the slight tone of smugness in his voice. He knew he should feel more humbled, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.

He reached out, gently tracing random patterns on your bare stomach as you caught your breath. “I just… I wanted to make you feel good,” he said softly.

When you came down from your high, you sat up to rest their foreheads against each other. “Are you sure you're ready?”

Matt's heart raced as you asked the question, his mind suddenly flooded with thoughts and worries. Was he ready? He had wanted this, more than anything, but now that the moment was here, he felt a twinge of fear.

He looked into your eyes, searching for reassurance. But all he saw was love, desire, and a willingness to wait if he wasn't ready yet.

He nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Yes,” he murmured. “I'm ready.”

In response, you locked their lips in a passionate kiss, one full of love.

Matt responded eagerly, his body pressing against yours as their mouths met in a passionate kiss. Every thought, every fear, was pushed aside in that moment. All that mattered was you, your breath, your lips, your bodies.

His hands found their way into your hair, tangling in the soft strands, holding you close. He poured all of his feelings, all of his desires into the kiss, his heart hammering in his chest.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as he felt your fingers slide under the waistband of his boxers, the sensation causing a shudder to run through his body. He'd been on edge ever since you'd started, his desire already at a fever pitch. But your touch, your gentle caress, only served to drive him wild.

He pulled back from the kiss to murmur against your mouth. “Please…” he whispered, his voice ragged and pleading. “Please, don't tease me anymore. I can't take it.”

You let out a shaky groan before pulling his boxers down, seeing him fully exposed for the first time. You took a moment to really take him in, your eyes full of awe and love.

Matt's cheeks burned under your gaze, feeling suddenly very exposed and vulnerable. He'd never been looked at this way before, never felt this vulnerable. But he also felt a wave of affection at the awe and love he saw in your eyes.

He met your gaze, his own eyes full of a mixture of desire and trepidation. “Is… Is it okay?” he asked softly, his voice betraying a hint of insecurity.

“You're so beautiful,” you praised breathlessly. “So perfect.”

Matt felt his heart soar at your words, the insecurities fading away and being replaced with a wave of intense love. No one had ever called him beautiful before, and certainly not perfect. He'd always felt a bit too thin, too gangly, too nerdy. But to you, he was beautiful, perfect.

He drew in a shaky breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “So are you,” he murmured. “Perfect, I mean.”

You reached to gently caress his cheek. “Sit up against the headboard for me.”

At your request, Matt obeyed, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. He felt bare and exposed, but he trusted you and knew that you wouldn't do anything to make him feel uncomfortable.

His gaze met yours, his heart beating fast in his chest. “Like this?” he asked, his voice a little breathless.

“Perfect,” you praised before straddling his lap once again.

Matt's breath caught in his throat as you straddled him, your body pressing against his in all the right places. His hands found your hips, his fingers gently gripping them, as if he needed something to anchor himself.

His eyes roamed over your body, appreciating every curve and contour, before coming back up to meet your gaze. “You… You look amazing,” he breathed, his voice a little huskier than usual.

The corner of your lips went up as you rested your forehead against his, just looking into his eyes for a few moments. You were so close now, the heat and electricity between them palpable. Matt found himself getting lost in your eyes, feeling a sense of calm and understanding wash over him. He could feel your breath against his lips, your body pressed against his, and it was almost too much to bear.

He reached up a hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers feather-light against your skin. “I… I love you,” he whispered, the words coming out almost involuntarily.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, and your eyes reflected just how much.

Matt felt your words wash over him, the depth and sincerity of your love sending a shiver down his spine. He'd always known you loved him, but hearing you say it, seeing it in your eyes… It was as if all his fears and doubts vanished completely.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in, letting himself bask in your love. Then, his eyes opened again, his gaze intense, and he wrapped his arms more securely around your waist. “Show me,” he whispered. “Show me how much you love me.”

“You ready?” you made sure quietly.

Matt felt a flutter of nerves mix with the desire he was feeling, but he nodded, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter. “Yes,” he breathed in response, his voice a little shaky. “I… I'm ready.”

“If anything… Just tell me, and we can stop,” you promised.

Matt nodded again, appreciating your thoughtfulness. “I will,” he assured you. “But please… Please don't stop unless I say so.”

He drew you closer, his hands sliding up to your back, gently tracing the line of your spine. “I… I want this. I want you,” he murmured, his voice a low, earnest plea.

Matt shivered slightly as your hand moved over his chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His heart was beating hard, his breath coming in shaky gasps. He'd never felt this alive before, this on edge, this desperate for your touch.

His eyes tracked your hand as it moved, a small, helpless noise escaping his lips. He knew what was coming, and he was aching for it.

Finally, your hand wrapped around him, giving him a few slow pumps. Your touch was like a spark to a flame, igniting a fire within him that he hadn't known was possible. He groaned, his head falling back against the headboard, his eyes squeezing shut as the sensations washed over him.

His hips involuntarily arched into your touch, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter.

“Oh… Oh God, that feels…” he gasped, his voice choked. “That feels so good,” he managed to stutter out, his words a raw expression of pleasure.

The feeling of your hand on him was overwhelming, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He could feel his body tensing and relaxing instinctively.

You positioned yourself above him, and you looked him in the eyes as if to ask for one last permission.

Matt's heart thudded in his chest as he looked into your eyes. He knew what was about to happen, and he wanted it, more than anything. He didn't want you to stop, he wanted you, all of you.

He nodded, his voice unsteady as he spoke. “Please,” he whispered, his breath ragged. “Please, don't stop.”

And then, you slowly started to sink down. The sensation was almost too much for Matt. It was like a wave of pleasure and heat overwhelming his entire body. He let out a low, guttural moan as you slowly sank down, inch by agonizing inch.

He clung to you, his hands gripping your hips with an almost bruising force. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips parted as he panted for breath. “Oh… Oh God,” he managed to say, the words a messy, incoherent jumble.

His mind was reeling, every thought driven out by the sheer intensity of the feeling. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, like nothing he could have imagined. You were warm, tight, and completely surrounding him, and it was everything.

He knew he was probably being too rough, too loud, but he couldn't help it. He was utterly lost in the sensations, losing himself in you. He was yours, totally and completely, and he loved every moment.

As you bottomed out, you rested your hands on his shoulders for support. “You okay, baby?”

Matt was trying to form words, to give some sort of response, but all he could manage was a series of ragged breaths and a nod. He was trying to ground himself, to stay in control, but it was nearly impossible.

He managed to open his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I… I'm… I'm okay,” he gasped out, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just… Just give me a second, please.”

You felt incredible around him, almost too good. He needed a moment to adjust, to find some sort of equilibrium, or he knew he'd lose himself completely.

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to steady himself. “You… You feel so… So good," he managed to get out between ragged breaths. He was struggling to find his voice, to express how he was feeling. “Just… Just give me a moment, please…”

“Of course. Take all the time you need,” you whispered, your hand gently caressing his cheek.

Your touch was like a soothing balm on his over-stimulated body. He closed his eyes and leaned into your hand, drawing in a shaky breath. He focused on the feeling of your fingers on his skin, your body surrounding him, anchoring himself to you. Slowly, the overwhelming sensations began to recede, replaced by a calmer, more controlled sense of pleasure.

He opened his eyes again, his gaze meeting yours. “I'm… I'm okay now,” he murmured. “You can... you can move now.”

You leaned in to press your lips against his before slowly starting to move your hips.

The feeling of your lips on his was like a jolt through his system, reigniting the fire that had been momentarily banked. He responded eagerly, his mouth moving against yours, his tongue caressing yours with an urgent need.

And then there was the movement of your hips. It was a gentle, careful circling motion, bringing him closer and closer to oblivion. Matt let out a guttural moan, his hands gripping your hips even tighter.

It was all too much, but he couldn't get enough of it. He felt like he was drowning in you, lost in the sensations of your body, your touch, your scent. He knew he was being loud, almost embarrassingly so, but he couldn't help it. He was completely yours, completely lost in you.

“Does that feel good, baby?” You asked breathlessly.

Matt could barely respond, too lost in the pleasure to string coherent words together. All he could do was nod, his voice choked off by a moan that tore its way from his throat.

He tried to form words, to tell you how good it felt, how incredible you were, but all that came out was a ragged gasp. “Y-yeah,” he managed to stutter out eventually, his voice hoarse. “Feels… Feels so good…”

You pressed their foreheads together before starting to move a little faster, moans escaping your own lips.

The change in speed made Matt's head spin. He felt like he was on the edge of an abyss, his body tensing and coiling with each move of your hips. He was a tangle of sensations, pleasure, need, and love, all swirling together.

He kept his eyes open, locking them with yours. Your moans, your ragged breaths, only amplified the sensations. He knew he was close, too close, but he didn't want it to end.

His hands left your hips, moving up to cradle your face in his hands. He needed to touch you, to feel your skin under his fingers, to hold onto you as he rode the wave of pleasure higher and higher.

“I… I'm close… I'm gonna… Oh God, I'm…”

You understood exactly what he meant, the urgency in his tone clear. Your movements became faster and more purposeful, pushing them both closer to the edge.

“I know, baby,” you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. “I know. Just let go. I've got you.”

Your words sent a shiver down his spine, the mixture of love and reassurance hitting him right in the chest. He wanted to hold on, to make this last as long as possible, but he knew it was impossible. He was on the edge, teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

“Baby…” he gasped, his voice thin and needy. “I… I'm… Oh God, I'm… I'm…”

He couldn't say the words, couldn't form the warning. All he could do was shiver as his body went rigid, waves of pleasure washing over him. He held onto you, his fingers digging into your flesh, as he rode out the aftershocks.

At the sensation of him releasing deep inside of you, you reached your climax as well, your back arching, and you let out a loud cry of his name. He felt you clenching around him, your own release as you cried out his name, and it was too much. He felt like he was being lifted into ecstasy, drowning in the sensations that swamped his body.

His hands moved to wrap around you, holding you close, feeling the tremors run through your body. He buried his face in the curve of your neck, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Oh God… Oh God…” he managed to say.

“I… I've never… That was…”

He couldn't complete a sentence, his mind reeling from the intensity of it all. He held onto you, feeling the rapid throb of your heartbeat against his chest, the heat of your skin against his, and the sweat that had gathered on both their bodies.

After You finally caught your breath, you looked at him, still straddling him, as you ran your hand through his hair. “Are you okay, baby?”

Matt was still reeling, his body trembling slightly from the force of his orgasm. He leaned into your touch, his eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and raw. “I'm… I'm okay. I just… I need a minute. That was… Wow.”

“You were perfect,” you said softly before lifting yourself from him and falling onto the bed next to him.

He chuckled weakly, still struggling to catch his breath. “Perfect, huh? I'm pretty sure I yelled louder than you did. I think the whole neighborhood heard me,” he teased, half-joking and half-not.

You chuckled breathlessly. Matt, however, could only stare in wonder at how his seed was leaking out of you.

Matt couldn't tear his gaze away, his eyes fixed on the sight in front of him. He had never seen anything so intimate, so erotic. Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers tracing the trail of his release dribbling down your skin.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered. “And I… I made a mess of you.”

Your breath hitched as he touched you, still oversensitive, but you didn't protest. He touched you delicately, his touch light and hesitant, as if he was scared to break the fragile moment. His gaze was filled with a mixture of awe and desire, staring at the evidence of what you have just shared.

“You… You look even more beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Like I've marked you as mine.”

“I am yours,” you whispered.

The words sent a wave of possessiveness through him. “Mine,” he repeated, his voice almost a possessive growl. “All mine.”

He leaned in, pressing feather-light kisses along your jawline, his hands tracing aimless patterns on your skin. “I don't want anyone else seeing you like this," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “I don't want anyone else touching you like I do. You're mine.”

He continued to mark your skin with kisses, his mouth moving along the length of your neck and down to your collarbone. He wanted to keep you like this forever, covered in his marks, in his scent. He knew he was being selfish, but he didn't care. You were his, and he wanted the world to know it.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tangling into his hair.

The feel of your fingers in his hair only served to make him more possessive. He continued to kiss and nip at your skin, leaving a trail of love bites down your neck and chest.

“Mine,” he repeated, his voice almost a mantra. He wanted to keep saying it, as if by repeating it, he could make it more true. “All mine.”

“So… I take that I made your first time good?” you asked, a little jokingly.

Matt chuckled huskily, leaning back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good is an understatement,” he said, his voice still rough with desire. “That was… Mind-blowing. Life-changing.”

He paused, his gaze roaming over your body again, taking in the sight of you covered in his marks. “I think you ruined me for anyone else.”

“Well, I sure hope so,” you murmured before kissing him again.

He responded immediately, his mouth moving against yours with a desperate, needy hunger. He rolled you onto your back, pinning you beneath him, continuing the kiss with a fervor. He didn't want this moment to end, he wanted to revel in the feeling of your body under his, the taste of your mouth, the scent of your skin.

Between kisses, he managed to mutter, “You're the only one. The only one I'll ever need.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: You two can't keep your hands off one another as you come home one night, but a slight problem has you in a pickle: your birth control has just run out and you are all out of condoms. Not to worry, Simon assures you that he will pull out. But as you ride him you begin to question if you really want him to. Will he stick to his promise or will he give in to your need?

Word Count: 4.9 k

Warnings:

Your back bounces into the front door as Simon pins you against it as he is physically unable to wait to get inside before he is on you. The walk from the car to the apartment has already been long enough, you can’t expect him to stay away any longer, especially not after the needy way his hands were on you just moments before. He almost made it till you just had to go and pull him into you by tugging on his belt loops; you should have known that’s all it takes to make his resolve break so that he is unable to hold back his need to devour every inch of you.

It had all started on your way home as it always does when he is out with you and an urge hits that he can’t indulge yet: his hand that was gripped tightly around the top of your inner thigh as he drove began moving up slowly until it reached the inseam of your jeans where he pressed up against it as if he was trying to get a feel of your warmth through the thick fabric. The longer his hand massaged you through your clothes, the worse the ache got and the more he had trouble keeping his gaze from trailing back onto you at every chance until he had to force himself to look back at the road, biting his lower lip to focus on something other than his need to put his mouth on any part of you he could get.  

He did try his hardest to get you both inside before his composure broke, but even as the car came to a stop he knew it was too late. There is only so much he can control, he is a trained professional after all, but this isn’t military business; when it comes to those moments when his desire for you has reached its peak, there is no holding back. 

You are the perfect kind of intoxication and once he has you in his veins there is nothing left but to indulge until he is satisfied.

His mouth dominates your own as his hands cling around your cheeks to keep you completely at his mercy so that he can take you as he likes. It’s not even been five minutes, but he is already panting heavily from the ferocity in the desperate and insatiable way he captures your lips in open-mouthed kisses and the sound of his yearning makes your heart skip. 

“Si,” you moan the shortened version of his name against his lips in between gasped breaths.  

Christ, the way it rolls off your tongue is an aphrodisiac to him and before he can think he is already rock hard and throbbing against your hip. You would think he hadn’t had you in months with the urgency in which he claims your mouth with his until your skin burns from the aggression; the immense intensity in that moment has your knees buckling.   

Your head is spinning with each passing minute as he grunts into your mouth, the feeling of your kiss too good to keep quiet about…but he needs more. Suddenly, his tender lips leave yours stinging as Simon nuzzles across your cheek, eyes closed and moving off of feel alone, and soon his hot breath is at the side of your head as his lips ghost near your jaw before they land. They leave burning kisses in their wake while they travel down towards your neck. 

“Fuck,” he exclaims with that husky tone into your skin, “I need ta feel ya, baby.”

Moving between the contours of your fused bodies his desperate hands locate the button on your jeans and with a bit of struggle, he undoes them. Both of those meaty paws are shoved inside the front before he even gets the zipper down. There’s a hiss on his tongue as his hands fill with all your soft, warm skin just inside your clothes. 

“Gotta get ya inside ‘fore I fuck ya right here ‘gainst the door,” he says in a deep, breathy whisper. 

The ache in his voice makes your skin prickle with anticipation of what’s to come as the vibration from his deep register makes your clit throb. His neediness is overwhelming, worming its way inside your head until you can’t think of anything else outside of the sensation of his touch along your curves, the yearning in his depraved kisses, and the way his words set your soul on fire with passion.   

“I’m sure the neighbors would love that,” you say, quickly followed by a high-pitched moan as he drags the sharp edge of his teeth over that rapidly pounding vein at the side of your neck.

You hold his face tighter against you, forcing him to suck at the spot, his heated, sticky breath moistening your skin as the pressure from his lips leave you in a daze. His calloused hands continue harshly pawing at your body as he situates his knee between your legs up against the door to steady himself and without thinking you take that as an invitation to grind against his thigh to relieve some of the ache that is making you lose your mind.

He can’t stop himself from following your lead and soon you are both greedily humping each other, desperately trying to get as much friction going as possible, not actually caring if anyone catches you two going at it. You can feel his mouth upturn into a smile against your neck. “They’d be so lucky to see me fuck a gorgeous thing like ya, sweetheart,” he growls into the skin.

What’s breathing again? You’ve lost the ability completely after that line. 

Fuck, Simon doesn’t want to take his hands off you, but you have got to get inside and quick or else his little joke might become a reality with the way you two keep grinding on one another. But if he wants to get these clothes off you, and fucking hell does he want to, he’s going to have to open the door.

Under duress, he removes one of his hands from within your pants and searches his pockets for his keys. The jingle of metal clinking together is heard as he pulls them out and flips through the set until his fingers find the one he needs. It takes him several tries to stab the key into the lock, relying strictly on sound and feeling alone to be sure he has it and finally that familiar click hits his ears over the sound of your combined heavy breathing. 

The front door ricochets off the wall behind it as Simon flings it open with a bit too much force before he staggers his way inside with you plastered to his body, his lips feverishly back to capturing yours in their embrace as you enter. He can't get in fast enough; he desperately needs to get you fucking naked and now. 

Grabbing the door with his hand, he slams it closed before making you both tumble to the floor and pinning your body between him and the living room carpet. “Can’t make it,” he groans in agony as if the bedroom is miles away. 

It’s not like your naked body hasn’t felt the fibers of the carpet dig into it before. 

Now that you are safely inside, his lust is unable to be controlled. Just the feeling of you under him has him panting into your open mouth like an animal in heat, barely able to kiss you as it feels so fucking good. He runs those coarse hands over your delicate curves through the opening he’s created in your pants and up under the bottom hem of your shirt over your stomach. 

His groans turn into a bassy whimper as you begin to explore his body as well, fingers running up under his shirt to caress the muscles along his torso up towards his chest, your arms taking his t-shirt with you as you go until it reaches his neck and he lets you pull it off over his head. The skin is pink with the heat from his arousal making his blood run hot like fire through his limbs. Moving up onto his knees he leans on his calves, his head falling back in ecstasy as you glide your touch through the hair that covers his chest and abdomen; just your touch is stimulating enough to have him ready to burst. 

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes as your hand slips lower over those bulging muscles as they ripple, the bliss from your silky touch almost too much to handle. You catch his stare and lock it in your pining gaze as the tips of your fingers slip over his naval and down onto the clasp of his pants and a deep, guttural moan is dragged out of his throat as you skillfully undo it and shove your way inside.   

Your hand brushes against the bulbous tip of his cock and his whole body shudders. “F-fuck,” he gasps under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open as your hand wraps around it and begins to stroke up and down within the confines of his pants. It doesn’t take long and he is bucking, rolling his hips to fuck your hand as your fist tightens more around him. The constriction only makes the movement of his hips more feverish as he succumbs to the feeling of the friction. 

He lets you go on until he can feel the first twinges of pressure building inside and that’s when he knows he’s had enough; there is so much more he wants to do to you and if he comes now it’ll all be over too soon. Opening those brown eyes, now with their blown out pupils, he runs his tongue over his dry lips and looks down at you as he removes your hand from around his cock and tugs it out of his pants.

“Come ‘ere to me, pretty girl,” he groans as he drags your hips forward onto his knees so you have to wrap your legs on either side of his wide, bulky torso. “Need these fuckers off.” 

Those girthy fingers hook themselves into the waistband of your jeans, making sure to latch into the top of your panties as well, and with a hard tug he is wrenching them both down off your hips, continuing down the line of your legs. Your body is aching so bad for his touch that everywhere he makes contact against you feels like ecstasy and all you want is more. You pull your legs back to tuck them against your chest so he can rip your pants all the way off and toss them away. 

Your ears pick up the sound of Simon’s sharp inhale as he gets sight of that sweet thing between your thighs. One look is all it takes and the inside of his mouth begins to salivate as he leans over your body to place his raw lips to your abdomen just below your naval as your body squirms under his touch from each warm caress of his mouth. The short, bristly hair that covers his jaw pricks against that overly sensitive skin until your back arches off the ground and you start to whine as it is almost too much for you to take.

“Need ta make ya come,” Simon whispers his feral plea into your stomach. “Need ta hear it, need ta feel it…”

His thought trails off as his lips wander down lower to stop at the sparse hair covering the top of your nude pussy. He pauses for only a few seconds to take it all in; God, he would never get tired of seeing it. But as much as he admires the look of it, there is something he needs even more and he can feel his taste buds tingling across his tongue to get at it.

“Need ta taste it…” he says, frantic and desperate. 

Your brain is so strung out that you haven’t fully comprehended his words as you open your eyes and see Simon repositioning himself, sliding out from under you and moving onto his stomach in between the divide in your legs. With his fingertips gripping into each of your thighs, he pushes them apart and keeps them spread as he immediately dives face first into the gap he has made with a hunger that makes him wildly delirious. 

There’s something you need to remember to tell him, something important pertaining to this exact situation, but the minute his mouth is on those tender lower lips your ability to think is gone. His mouth pin heavy kisses to your petals before his wide tongue flattens against the curve of your pussy and pushes up tight until the pressure causes you to fidgeting your hips against his face. 

Back and forth Simon slips his tongue over you until he pushes through the threshold of your sex and drags it up the length, coming to rest up against that bundle of nerves towards the top. He can feel your heartbeat through the throbbing in your clit and his eyes roll back in his head as he loses himself inside the haze of his passion; if he could live between your legs, he would definitely call it home. 

You are already a little wet and he can taste your arousal in his mouth as he takes the tip of his tongue to roll it delicately over your clit and you squeeze your thighs together around his ears in response to the intense pleasure that one simple movement produces. Keep doing shit like that and he isn’t going to be able to contain himself. 

Simon tries to keep his tongue steady and slow, but the longer he stays buried in your pussy, lapping at you like he’s been starved of it, the harder it is to contain himself. He’s obsessed. Every desperate sound you make, every writhe of your body, makes him greedy for more; he is eager to do whatever it takes to turn you into a complete mess and that means only one thing- overstimulation.

Releasing one of your thighs, he moves his palm to rest under his chin and brings two of his bulky fingers to align them with your entrance. He keeps his tongue on your clit and thrusts the pad against it as he sinks his middle fingers up into you. Those dark eyes dart up over the line of your body to watch your back arch up high off the floor while you cry out in incoherent moans as you are suddenly stretched out from the size of his digits.  

His fingers fill up your pussy as deep, come hither strokes work on your G spot over and over in rhythm until he has your body dripping. The mixture of your juices and his spit from your clit dribbles down into his hand and collects around his chin. This is exactly what he is looking for: the more your wetness gathers on his face, the more feral he becomes until his sanity is gone and only a mindless creature hell bent on ruining you remains. 

No more calm caresses now; he needs this raw and dirty. He wants his face to be slathered in your cum.

Tilting his head to the side, he takes a deep breath. “Rock your hips inta me,” he grunts his hasty demand with his mouth still against you before plunging back in.

Planting your feet firmly onto the floor, you pick up your hips slightly and slowly begin to rut against his face as his fingers curl up inside of you and his tongue continues to tease your clit. The sensation is unlike anything else, riding his face and fingers at the same time. How is this man a master at using every single part of his body? 

Simon hums his praises into you for how good you are at following orders and you can feel the vibration from his lips; that adds something even more magnificent to the equation and soon there is a warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach that you recognize- you are close. 

Your core is clenching around his fingers something fierce, your swollen walls bearing down on him with each thrust of your hips as he laps up the mess you are making to keep it from being wasted on the carpet. As your leg muscles begin to shake near his ears, he knows that you are about to come and his already depleted breathing hitches as he waits to feel it.

“Sh-shit,” you whimper as your nails dig into the carpet. “Gonna come, Si.”

A few more moans and then you fall silent as all that pressure is right at the peak, so close you can almost taste it, and with a few more thrusts of his tongue and buck of your hips and your body contracts as your orgasm tears through you. 

Simon sneaks one gasping breath just as your thighs clamp down rigidly around his ears, blocking him in against you so that he can’t get free until you are finished. The entirety of your high you ride out with him licking, sucking, and fingering until you sink into the floor, breathing through the pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, breathing hard as his face emerges from you with a contented smile on his glistening lips. 

Pushing himself up, he moves back onto his knees in front of you before taking the back of his hand and wiping it across his lips to remove the coating leaking down his chin. “Ready for more?” he smiles.

All at once the thought comes flooding back into your mind through the clarity that getting off has given you, that thing you are supposed to tell him, as he slides the waistband of his jeans down over the curve of his ass and pulls his cock out. Goddamn he is hard, the tip swollen and throbbing with the beat of his heart as he moves in.

Quickly, you stagger up onto your elbows to look at him. “Wait,” you choke out as he slides back up close against you.

“Need a break?” he asks, slightly out of breath still.

You don’t want to stop, God, you want him in you so bad it hurts, but there’s a problem. “Ran outta birth control,” you stammer out. “Do we have any condoms?”

Even in your delirious state you already know the answer; you haven’t bought anything for a while as you had never had any trouble with your pills until now. Simon looks back at you and shakes his head, confirming your suspicions and you fall back down onto your back defeated.

“Don’t wanna stop,” you whine pathetically as you feel him move, thinking that you’ll have to stop, but Simon is quick to crush your fears.

"Listen,” he says as he leans over top of you, cupping your cheek to pull you into a quick kiss as he holds himself up with the other, “I'll be careful. Swear I'll fuckin' pull out."

His cock presses against you as it hangs freely out of his pants. Without thinking he slowly grinds the veiny shaft up against your pussy, his hardness stroking over your clit until your juices are dripping all over it. All that slick, all that warmth, and Simon is losing his goddamn mind, but he won’t put it in, not until you say.

You are already so drunk off the euphoria of your orgasm that there is no way you’re gonna say no to that, not when the need to keep this going for as long as possible is all you want. The more his cock slips between your petals the more you agree with his idea until the only thing left in your hazy mind is the need for him to be inside you- now. 

“Promise?” you ask.

“I swear,” he reassures. “Don’t wanna stop either. Wanna be inside ya too.”

“Okay,” you agree enthusiastically and he gives you one more heated kiss in confirmation. 

Slipping through you a few more times just to be sure he is good and coated, he pulls back and sets the tip right at your opening. “Jus’ breathe,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips as he sinks the tip of his cock inside and with one fluid thrust he plunges in fully until his cock completely disappears inside.

The fucking stretch of him is sublime, the usual slight discomfort from it near nonexistent as your body is more than ready to take him in. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out as your mind is consumed with the feeling. 

There is no restraint left in Simon to keep him in check; the high he feels from being inside you is too much and he wastes no time in setting a punishing pace. Bulky arms move underneath you to tilt your hips upwards as his hips snap into you with ruthless force until he’s pounding into you so deep his vision blurs and he must resort to sounds to convey his thoughts. 

Each thrust is emphasized with a primal groan from him as both your bodies start to glisten with perspiration from the exertion of the brunt of his desire for you that makes him pound into your dripping hole with fervor. Minutes pass in this hazy ecstasy until he decides that he needs a change of position. As good as you look beneath him, you are a true fantasy when you are on top and he craves that right now. 

“Need ya ta ride me, baby,” he murmurs. “Can ya do that?” 

You nod quickly; as long as he keeps making your body feel this way, you’ll do whatever he wants.

Making sure you are secure in his arms, he pulls out of you only long enough so that he can roll you both over until you are now the one on top. Getting you situated he immediately thrusts back inside and you instantly plant your hands firmly onto his chest, using it as leverage. Pushing down against his chest you begin to bob up and down on your knees as best as you can over the bulk of his body to stick to the relentless pace that he had already set. 

Simon runs his hands up and down your bare thighs as he takes in the view of you perched on top of him: your pretty eyes glazed over, your hair a beautifully disheveled mess hanging down around your face, your tits bouncing in tandem with you beneath your shirt. You are utter perfection as you ride. Those needy hands begin to roam up higher and higher over your stomach, pushing your shirt up as he goes until he can reach your breasts so that he can get at them to play with the nipples to make you whine.

Fucking hell, every inch of you is like a dream. And it’s all his.

It isn’t long before your movements start to get sloppy as the euphoria of it all draws you closer to your second release. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss. That familiar pressure at the base of your spine is already building again and as long as you keep this rhythm you will be coming in no time. 

Even as you are lost in it all, ready to finish again, an irrational need creeps into your mind that you have never had before. The thrill of the risk is mind-numbly good, but this new though amplifies all that by ten. What if he didn’t pull out?  

It’s crazy, you know, but something about it just sounds so right. The delicious thought consumes your mind, making your limbs tingle with excitement. Screw the consequences, you can figure it all out later. Why the idea popped in your head in the first place, you don’t know, but now that it is here, you can’t get rid of it. You need Simon to come in you.  

“Don’t… pull…out,” you stammer out shakily. 

Simon’s head pops up. Did he hear that right? No, he must be so far out of his mind that he is not able to comprehend your words right now. “What?” he asks.

Your legs lock around his sides as you continue to bounce in that steady rhythm with no sign of stopping. “Want you…to come… inside me. Please, Si. Need it.”

Oh, God. It’s like a switch that gets flicked on in his brain as you plead with him to fill you up and all at once that absolutely feral part of his brain that has been kept dormant all this time is awakened with a fury.

Fuck, it's all over now. 

There is no possible chance in hell that he isn’t going to give in to that. He's so high off the feeling of you riding him into oblivion that any consequences that may come do not even register. So what if you have an accident? He’s confident that he’d be just fine with that. Shit, he loves you to the moon and back, so it’s not much of a risk in the end if a product of your love just happens to come from this. Right now the risk is worth the reward.

“Fill… me up,” you continue to beg. “Please…almost there.”

His mind is already made up. "Christ,” he groans desperately, “can't say no to that, pretty girl. Want me ta fill ya, that's what your gonna fuckin' get."

His large hands lock tight around your hips to hold them down as he strikes his hips up into your pussy, taking control to slam up into you from below harder and harder. The clenching of his abdominal muscles from each thrust has the sweat dripping over the contours of his chest. You take every last delectable inch he gives you as the room fills with the wet sounds of your bodies slapping against each other. Your mind is all static now, so lost within the bliss of your union that you can’t stand it and he isn’t far behind.

“Don’t stop…Dont’ stop,” you whine, your body shaking as he slams into you over and over again. 

“Never,” he grunts, trying to keep together through the overwhelming pressure gathering deep within him that threatens to throw him over the edge at any moment; you have to come first, that’s his rule. 

That warmth is almost at its peak again, the pressure rising harshly at the base of your spine; just a little more and you’ll be there. You’re barely hanging on by a thread, excited to experience being stuffed full by the only man you ever want to claim you. Fuck, you want him to claim you so bad it hurts.

A few more seconds of his roughness as you are jostled atop him and that is it, like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your second orgasm tears straight through you with such force you nearly fall off him, but Simon keep you upright. 

Finally he can let himself go. He’s nearly there, just a bit more and he is going to fill you full. A few more ragged, desperate thrust and he is spilling inside of you. A loud groan rips through his chest as he releases all that warm liquid up into you, milking his cock until he has nothing more left as he keeps your hips pinned to his; you had wanted this and he is going to be sure you get everything you want. His hips continue slowly moving against yours as he works you both through your highs for the next couple of minutes until it subsides and he comes to a stop, completely spent. 

“I’ve got ya, I’ve got ya,” he murmurs softly as you fall forward onto him and he cradles you against his burning chest while you continue to whimper faintly as your body shakes with the force of your lingering orgasm. 

Never have you come so hard before and fuck, neither has he.

Simon clings to you, gently rubbing down your back until your breathing calms and your heart stops thudding so violently; only then does he carefully pull out of you and help you move to his side. With nothing to plug you up, you can feel a warm gush that runs down to your thigh, a sticky reminder of what just happened. Simon catches a glimpse of it and it makes his heart thud to see all his milky white cum dripping out of you; the ultimate claim to what is his.

Propping himself up onto his elbow, he lays a heavy arm over top of you and wraps it around your back to pull you tighter into him. “We might ‘ave a problem,” he chuckles as he kisses your heated cheek. 

“What’s that?” you ask exhaustedly.

“Think I just found my favorite thing to do with ya,” he whispers. “And from the way ya just came, I might have ta do it again.”

[rebelspykatie]

Part 2

Part 1

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie stands and follows Steve to the door as he’s pulling on his shoes. He wants to stop him, pull the shoe out of his hand and drag Steve back to the couch, but he doesn’t have any right. He’s not entirely sure Steve won’t push him away if he tries to touch him right now, anyways.

“You think I’m straight and I was convinced you were into me,” Steve leans against the door frame to pull his other shoe on. He mutters under his breath, “I should’ve never listened to Robin an-”

“Robin was in on this?” He interrupts that thought. It throws Eddie. They’re such a tight knit group, he doesn’t know how they were so far off track with him.

“We spent hours going through every stupid interaction we had. Thought we had it all figured out.” He huffs and walks back over to the coffee table to pick up his wallet and keys. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

“No, Steve,” he tries to reach out and grab Steve’s arm, but he moves too quickly and Eddie’s left grasping air, “you’re not.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it, anyways.” Steve scrambles to pull his sweater back on, the cold just starting to seep into the night air outside.

“Can you just slow down for a second?” Eddie stops trying to catch Steve and plants himself in front of the door. “What do you mean, you’re used to it?”

“Are you going to trap me here?”

“Answer the question.”

“This part, Eddie,” he sighs and gestures between them like that means anything to Eddie. “Everyone I’ve ever confessed to or made a move on has had the same reaction.” He looks off to the side, unable to look Eddie in the eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m the problem. Good ole Steve Harrington, too stupid to notice no one is interested in him.”

“Steve, you’re not stupid.”

“Feels like it most of the time.” He pinches his nose again, still not looking at Eddie, more like through him, gaze pinned to somewhere in the middle of Eddie’s chest. “Can you please move? We can pretend like this never happened and I promise I won’t make any weird moves on you ever again. I’m still friends with Nancy and Robin after everything, I can do it with you, too.”

Eddie skips over the whole Robin part of that in his head because he doesn’t have the brain power to analyze anything beyond Steve’s feelings for him. He never saw this coming. No one, boy or girl or anything in between, has ever made a move on Eddie before. He’s the local freak. There’s no way he could have predicted the town’s golden boy hero would make the moves on him.

He takes in how disheveled Steve’s become in the last few minutes. How hastily he’s thrown on his sweater. The mess of Steve’s hair from the hand that’s run through it several times since he got up from the couch. Barely laced up shoes so he could get out the door faster. He’s normally so put together and this, the sight of him so frazzled, frightens Eddie.

They were fast friends after everything happened with Vecna, leaning on each other for support. Becoming inseparable with King Steve wasn’t something Eddie ever imagined, but it was so easy. Neither of them were what each other had built up in their heads from the rumor mill around Hawkins. Eddie’s never had a guy friend as close as Steve. Sure, he had Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, but Eddie’s always been a bit of a loner.

It was impossible to feel alone with Steve as a friend. He had a way of knowing when you needed support, always just there when Eddie felt alone or needed a physical presence when the weight of the upside down was dragging him down. There wasn’t a day in the past six months that Eddie didn’t see Steve, even if it was only in passing or a quick little jaunt down to Family Video, he’s a constant presence in Eddie’s life.

To lose that? Would be like losing a part of himself. Like losing a limb. Losing his home.

And he’s scared. He doesn’t want to let Steve walk out that door, the weight of losing him forever lingering in the air. But he can’t trap him here. That wouldn’t be fair to Steve.

He moves out of the way, taking a step towards Steve, but he sidesteps Eddie and reaches for the door.

“Steve-”

“Don’t worry about me, Eddie,” he doesn’t turn around, but hesitates halfway out the door. “I’ll be fine.”

With the soft click of the door closing, he’s gone.

And that should be the end of it. Closed book. Eddie doesn’t like Steve and Steve needs to move on. There’s not much Eddie can do about that.

But it haunts him.

If you didn’t know Steve, you wouldn’t realize that anything was wrong. He’s acting normal, smile on his face when he jokes with Robin, complaining about the kids being terrors, going to his job.

But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the way his smile droops when he thinks no one’s paying attention to him, in the way Robin protectively hovers around him when Eddie is nearby. It’s clearly a facade he’s putting on to get by.

And Eddie aches. There’s a pit in his stomach that opened up that day and it hasn’t closed. Steve avoids his touch and the chasm grows larger, dragging Eddie further into the darkness. Casual hangouts halted. No more divulging of nightmares or fears late at night. A piece of Eddie is with Steve and he’s bereft of comfort. Unsettled.

He lies awake replaying that kiss over and over in his head. Thinking about what Steve said after. There’s no comfort in the way he handled the situation. It feels like he miscalculated, like pushing Steve away was the wrong move and now his life will never be the same again.

Maybe it won’t. Maybe there’s no way for them to move forward and for him to not break Steve’s heart every day. Steve said he was an idiot, but Eddie’s positive he’s got it all backwards. Eddie’s the idiot.

And he can’t stop thinking about kissing Steve.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Short Shorts & Long Hair

Summary: Spencer does NOT want to go to physical therapy, but the pretty physical therapist might make it not so bad.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x PT fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: injury, suggestive content (16+), alcohol consumption, insecurities, rejection, use of Y/N

Word count: 11.6k

a/n: i went through pt with a huugggeeee crush on my physical therapist ,, wish they were single :(((

main masterlist part two

After Spencer Reid is shot in the thigh during a case, the last thing he wants is to endure the grueling process of physical therapy. The thought of being touched, poked, and prodded by a stranger, let alone being intensely monitored, fills him with dread. Convinced that he can handle the recovery on his own, Spencer drafts a fake doctor’s note claiming he’s fit to perform his own therapy. Unfortunately for him, neither Hotch nor his orthopedic surgeon finds the attempt amusing. Despite his protests, Spencer is left with no choice but to attend physical therapy sessions, which also means being grounded from fieldwork and unable to join his team on cases. 

—

The atmosphere in the room was thick with a tension that only Spencer Reid seemed oblivious to as he sat at his desk, meticulously writing out what could have passed as an official-looking note. His expression was one of deep concentration, brow furrowed in that familiar way as he carefully crafted each word, determined to convince anyone who might read it that he, Dr. Spencer Reid, was fully capable of managing his own recovery. 

"To whom it may concern, Dr. Spencer Reid is fully capable of performing his own physical therapy regimen. As a medical professional and an expert in several fields, he does not require the services of an external physical therapist. Please excuse him from any mandated sessions."

He read over the note once more, satisfied with his work, before folding it neatly and tucking it into an envelope. It was the perfect plan, he thought after all, who knew his body better than he did? He could research the most effective exercises, monitor his own progress, and avoid the discomfort of being intensely scrutinized by someone else. The thought of a stranger's hands on him, manipulating his body and injured leg, made his stomach turn. Spencer was resolute—he could handle this on his own.

But just as he was about to place the envelope on Hotch's desk, ready to hand it over with the casual nonchalance of a doctor delivering a prescription, the door to the office swung open. Aaron Hotchner stepped in, his usual stoic expression firmly in place. He caught sight of the envelope in Spencer's hand and the somewhat guilty look on the younger agent's face.

"Reid," Hotch said, his voice even but with a hint of curiosity, "what's that?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment, knowing full well that Hotch wouldn't be easily convinced by his little stunt. But he decided to try anyway. "It's, um, a note. From me. For me. You see, I don't think I need to go to physical therapy. I’ve written a statement explaining that I can handle my own recovery. It’s all very professional."

Hotch's brow arched slightly as he reached out, taking the envelope from Spencer's hand. He opened it and quickly scanned the contents, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he looked up, meeting Spencer's eyes with a look that was both stern and almost amused.

"Spencer, you can't write your own doctor's notes. And even if you could, this isn’t a joke. Physical therapy is a necessary part of your recovery, and it’s not something you can just skip or handle on your own."

"But, Hotch—" Spencer began, his voice tinged with frustration. "I know what needs to be done. I don’t need someone else to tell me how to stretch or exercise. I can do the research, follow the protocols—"

"That’s not the point," Hotch interrupted, his tone firm. "Physical therapy isn’t just about the exercises. It’s about having a trained professional guide you through the process, ensure you’re doing it correctly, and adjust your treatment as needed. It’s about having someone to push you when you’re too tired or in too much pain to push yourself. You’re not invincible, Spencer."

Spencer opened his mouth to argue, but the look in Hotch’s eyes stopped him. There was no room for negotiation. 

"And," Hotch continued, "I know your orthopedic surgeon would agree. I spoke with them earlier today. They were very clear that you need to attend every session if you want to make a full recovery. This isn’t optional."

Spencer felt the weight of Hotch’s words settling over him, heavy and unavoidable. He hated the idea of being in a clinical setting, of being vulnerable in front of someone else, of having to admit that he needed help. But he also knew that Hotch was right. Skipping therapy wasn’t just about avoiding discomfort—it was about jeopardizing his recovery and potentially his career.

"But if I go to therapy, I won’t be able to fly with the team," Spencer said, his voice quieter now, the frustration giving way to a sense of helplessness.

Hotch’s expression softened, just a little. "I know. And I know how hard that is for you. But your health comes first. You’ll still be a part of the team, but you need to take care of yourself. We can handle things in the field until you’re ready to come back."

Spencer nodded, though the idea of being left behind still gnawed at him. He could already imagine the isolation, the endless hours of exercises and stretches, the frustration of not being able to work cases with his team. But there was no getting around it. This was his reality now.

"Alright," Spencer finally said, his voice resigned. "I’ll go to the therapy sessions."

"Good," Hotch replied, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder in a rare gesture of support. "It’s the right decision. And remember, we’re all here for you, no matter what."

Spencer gave a small nod, appreciating the sentiment even as the prospect of therapy loomed over him like a dark cloud. He watched as Hotch left the office, the door clicking softly shut behind him. The room seemed quieter now, and Spencer sat there for a moment, the now-crumpled note still in his hand.

The first session was scheduled for tomorrow morning, and Spencer could already feel the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. He wasn’t ready for this—not physically, not mentally. But it was happening, whether he liked it or not. And as much as he wished he could write himself out of it, this was one situation where even Spencer Reid had to admit that he couldn’t do it all on his own.

—

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains as Spencer reluctantly eyed the outfit his surgeon recommended. Loose-fitting clothes were manageable, but the shorts—revealing his pale, scarred leg—were far from his usual style. They made him feel vulnerable, a stark contrast to the comfort of his usual slacks and cardigans. With a resigned sigh, he slipped into the shorts and a loose t-shirt, feeling exposed.

Crutching out of his apartment, every step reminded him of his injury, amplifying his discomfort. The short drive to the physical therapy center only heightened his anxiety; the building felt more like a fortress than a place of healing.

Once inside, the overly cheerful receptionist bombarded him with questions, each interaction grating on his nerves. Finally, he was led to a private room—a sterile, clinical space that made him feel even more on edge. As he gingerly lowered himself onto the padded table, his leg throbbing slightly, Spencer’s mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming session, dreading the inevitable discomfort and the loss of control. The door would open soon, and a stranger would take charge, leaving him with no escape.

At last, a small knock echoed through the room before the door creaked open, revealing a young woman who couldn’t have been older than her mid-20s. Spencer’s breath caught for a moment—she was gorgeous, even in her casual athletic wear, her presence both striking and unexpectedly comforting.

“Hello, Spencer Reid?” you asked with a warm smile that seemed to light up the room. “I’m Dr. Y/L, but you can call me Y/N.”

"Hi, yes, I'm Spencer. Nice to meet you," he said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of politeness and underlying nervousness.

"Nice to meet you too, Spencer," you replied with a warm smile as you settled in front of the computer, pulling up his chart. "Let's see... you got shot in the thigh, ouch. How did that happen, if you don't mind me asking?"

Spencer shifted slightly, the memory still fresh. "Uh, no, that's fine. I was chasing an unsub. I work for the FBI."

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Oh wow! That's cool... and painful. I'm sorry about that."

He gave a small shrug, trying to downplay the severity. "It comes with the job."

"I suppose it does," you said, nodding thoughtfully. "Anyway, let's get some basic info about how you're doing since surgery."

Together, you went through the routine baseline questions, Spencer answering each one with careful honesty. His responses were detailed, though you could sense a certain reluctance in his tone, as if he was holding back from fully engaging in the process.

"And finally, Spencer... what is your mobility like? Can you bend your knee?" you asked, glancing up from the computer to observe his reaction.

"Uh, a little," he replied, his discomfort becoming more evident as your attention shifted to his exposed leg.

"Can you show me, please?" you asked gently, trying to ease the tension.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then slowly bent his knee, his movements tentative. Your eyes followed the motion, taking note of the stiffness and the clear effort it required.

"Okay, good… now, how far can you bend your other knee? In fact, do you mind if I measure? That way, we can compare later down the line to see the progress you're making," you explained, keeping your tone encouraging and professional.

"Mhm, fine," he murmured, giving a small nod of consent.

You moved closer with a measuring tool in hand, your focus entirely on ensuring accuracy. Spencer, on the other hand, felt his cheeks flush slightly under your scrutiny. The vulnerability of the situation, coupled with the physical closeness, made him acutely aware of every small movement. 

"Alright," you said after taking the measurements, offering him a reassuring smile. "We'll track these numbers as we go, and you'll be able to see just how much progress you're making. It might not feel like it now, but you'll get there."

Spencer nodded again, his nerves calming slightly at your supportive demeanor. Despite his initial reluctance, he was starting to see that this process, uncomfortable as it was, might just be what he needed.

"Okay, for today, we don't have to push you too far," you began, your tone gentle yet encouraging. "We'll just start with some easy movements to get a baseline for where you're at. How does that sound?"

"That's fine," Spencer replied, his voice steady, though there was still a hint of tension beneath the surface.

Together, you guided him through a series of basic movements, carefully observing how his injured leg compared to his non-injured one. Spencer followed your instructions with quiet focus, doing his best to move as much as he could without aggravating the injury. As you made your way down the list, you noted the differences in flexibility and strength, mentally preparing a plan for his recovery.

When you reached the last item on your list, you looked up from your notes. "Alright, Spencer, I'd like you to try flexing your quad. This is important because you'll need to be able to engage those muscles when you're ready to start walking again."

"I know," Spencer said, his tone tinged with resignation and a touch of impatience, as if he was more than aware of what was expected of him but still not entirely comfortable with the process.

You nodded, acknowledging his understanding. "Oh, okay, yes, well..." you hesitated for a moment, wanting to ensure his comfort. "Can I put my hand on your leg, Spencer? It'll help me gauge the muscle engagement."

Spencer looked at you for a brief moment, the vulnerability in his eyes evident. But he gave a small nod, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, that's fine."

You placed your hand gently on his leg, just above the injured area, making sure your touch was as light and non-intrusive as possible. "Alright, go ahead and flex for me."

Spencer did as you asked, and you could feel the slight tremor in the muscle as it tried to respond. It was clear that the road ahead would be challenging, but this was a crucial first step. 

"Good job, Spencer," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine encouragement. "This is the start, and we'll take it one step at a time. You'll get there, I promise."

"Thanks," Spencer muttered, his tone clipped but not intentionally rude. He was struggling to keep his frustration in check—not with you, but with the entire process. The vulnerability, the slowness of his progress, it all grated on him. But he couldn’t help but notice how kind and patient you were, never once letting his mood affect your demeanor.

You offered him a gentle smile, recognizing the weariness in his voice. "Alright, what do you say we call it a day?"

"Sounds good," Spencer replied, a bit of relief seeping into his tone. The session had been necessary, he knew that, but it was exhausting in more ways than one.

You helped him settle back into a comfortable position, gathering your notes and preparing to leave. "You did well today, Spencer. It's not easy, but you're making progress, even if it doesn't feel like it right now."

He gave a small nod, appreciating your words even if he didn’t fully believe them yet. As he watched you head for the door, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of gratitude. 

—

The next day, as Spencer made his way into the office, he immediately spotted Aaron Hotchner across the bullpen. Hotch was engaged in a conversation with another agent, but the moment he noticed Spencer, a subtle, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Spencer felt a mild irritation bubble up within him; he could already sense what was coming.

As he approached his desk, Hotch walked over, his expression that infuriating blend of concern and amusement. "Morning, Reid," Hotch greeted, his voice carrying that signature calm authority. "How did your first physical therapy session go?"

Spencer’s eyes narrowed slightly, detecting the faint smugness in Hotch’s tone. "It was… fine," he replied, trying to keep his voice even, though his annoyance was evident. He could tell Hotch was fishing for details, and it was clear that Hotch knew exactly how uncomfortable the whole experience had been for him.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing just a bit. "Just fine? No major complaints?"

Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No major complaints," he echoed, though the look on his face said otherwise.

Hotch nodded, clearly enjoying this a little too much. "Good. Just remember, Reid, it's important to follow through with these sessions. They'll make all the difference in your recovery."

"Yes, I’m aware," Spencer replied, his tone a touch sharper than he intended. He knew Hotch was right, but that didn’t make the process any less frustrating.

Hotch chuckled softly, not unkindly, and gave Spencer a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Hang in there, Spencer. You'll be back to chasing down unsubs in no time."

As Hotch walked away, Spencer let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. He knew Hotch meant well, but that didn’t stop him from being mildly annoyed at the subtle smugness in his boss’s demeanor. It seemed that, for now, Spencer would just have to endure the teasing—along with everything else this recovery was throwing at him.

—

At his next physical therapy session, Spencer walked in with a bit less tension in his shoulders, though he was still undeniably on edge. The familiarity of the setting, coupled with the fact that he knew what to expect, made things slightly easier. But the apprehension hadn’t fully dissipated. There was still the uncomfortable vulnerability that came with each session, the persistent reminder of his injury.

However, without the overwhelming cloud of nerves and frustration that had dominated his first visit, Spencer found himself noticing something different. As you greeted him with that same warm smile, guiding him through the initial check-in process, he couldn’t help but take in just how pretty you were. The realization caught him off guard, stirring a new wave of anxiety that he hadn’t anticipated. 

It wasn’t just your appearance—though that alone was enough to make his pulse quicken—but the way you carried yourself, the gentle confidence in your movements, and the patient way you spoke to him, even when he was less than cooperative. It was disarming, to say the least.

As the session progressed, and you asked him to move through the exercises, Spencer felt his heart rate increase—not just from the physical effort, but from the proximity, the way your hands occasionally brushed against his skin as you guided him. He tried to focus on the mechanics, on the steps you were instructing him through, but his mind kept drifting to the fact that you were so close, your attention entirely on him.

When you gently placed your hand on his leg to help him flex his quad, Spencer’s breath hitched slightly, the warmth of your touch sending a jolt through him. He knew it was purely professional, that you were just doing your job, but it didn’t stop the nervous flutter in his stomach.

“Doing okay, Spencer?” you asked, your voice soft as you glanced up at him, concern flickering in your eyes. You could sense the shift in his demeanor, though you weren’t sure what had caused it.

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered, his voice a little unsteady. “I’m fine.”

You smiled, giving his leg a light pat before continuing with the session. “You’re doing great.”

Spencer nodded, trying to steady his breathing. But the truth was, having your hands and eyes on him, especially now that he was fully aware of how attractive you were, was even more nerve-wracking than the physical exercises themselves. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious, worried that his unease was obvious.

As the session came to a close, Spencer felt a mix of relief and lingering nerves. He knew he’d be back, but the thought of facing these sessions with you—someone who was not only skilled and kind but also strikingly beautiful—added a new layer of complexity to an already difficult process.

—

As the weeks passed, a sense of familiarity began to settle between you and Spencer. It was inevitable, really—spending an hour together every week, working through the same routines, sharing small talk to fill the silence. The initial awkwardness had started to fade, replaced by a growing ease in each other's company. 

Spencer was still nervous around you, but it was a different kind of nervousness now. His crush had developed into something undeniable, and though it made his heart race whenever your hands brushed against him or you smiled in that particular way, he had learned to manage it. He even found himself engaging in playful conversation, something that had felt impossible during those first few sessions.

Today, as you guided him through another set of exercises, the conversation flowed naturally, the rapport between you evident.

“So, Spencer, any big plans this weekend?” you asked, your tone light and casual as you adjusted his leg for the next stretch.

Spencer, who had been concentrating on following your instructions, looked up with a faint smirk. “Yeah, I thought I might go skydiving,” he replied, deadpan, though his eyes twinkled with mischief.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the playful tone. “Hmm, sounds thrilling—and very safe,” you responded, matching his sarcasm.

He chuckled softly, a sound that was becoming more frequent as he grew more comfortable with you. “Yeah, I figured, why not? Might as well add another injury to the list, right?”

“Perfect plan,” you teased, giving his leg a gentle pat as you moved to the next exercise. “Just make sure to tell your orthopedic surgeon first. I’m sure they’ll love the idea.”

Spencer laughed, the tension in his body easing further with each passing moment. “I’m sure they’ll have a lot to say about it. But really, I’ll probably just catch up on some reading. Nothing too exciting.”

“Well, that sounds more like the Spencer I’ve come to know,” you said with a smile. “Anything interesting you’re reading?”

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should share, but your genuine curiosity encouraged him to open up. “Actually, I’ve been revisiting some classic science fiction—Isaac Asimov’s *Foundation* series. It’s been a while, and I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

You nodded, impressed. “That’s a great choice. I’ve always admired Asimov’s ability to weave complex ideas into his stories. You’ll have to let me know what you think when you finish.”

“I will,” Spencer promised, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of the session. These moments of connection, however small, were becoming something he looked forward to—a bright spot in what had been a difficult and frustrating process.

As the session wrapped up, Spencer found himself lingering a little longer than usual, reluctant to leave the comfortable rhythm you had developed together. 

—

During one of your sessions, as you guided Spencer through another set of stretches, the conversation drifted into more personal territory. Spencer, his curiosity getting the better of him, asked, "How old are you?"

You couldn’t help but tease him a little, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age?"

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he immediately started to apologize, stumbling over his words. "Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I just thought you looked so young."

You laughed, deciding to let him off the hook. "Why, thank you!" you said, exaggerating your response by pretending to flip your hair over your shoulder. "But I was just teasing, Spencer. I’m no lady," you added with a wink, enjoying the way it made him chuckle.

He relaxed a bit, his laughter easing the moment. "Well, now I’m even more curious."

"Alright, alright," you conceded with a grin. "I’m 26."

Spencer nodded, processing the information with a slight smile. "You’re younger than I thought… but somehow, that makes sense."

"Yeah? And how old did you think I was?" you asked, genuinely curious, your eyes fixed on him as you waited for his response.

Spencer shrugged, his expression thoughtful but with a hint of mischief. "I don’t know, maybe 50?"

You stared at him for a moment, deadpan, before replying with a sarcastic sweetness, "That’s so sweet of you, Spencer. Now tell me, am I supposed to push my thumb directly into your wound or just squeeze around it?"

His eyes widened in mock horror as he quickly backpedaled. "Neither! I’m sorry!" he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "You don’t look 50!"

"Yeah, well, you’re going to after I’m done with you," you shot back, a grin spreading across your face as you leaned in, pretending to consider where to apply pressure.

Spencer laughed, the tension melting away as the playful banter flowed between you. 

—

During another session, you glanced over at Spencer, who was carefully stretching his leg. "Okay, Spencer," you began, your tone encouraging, "let’s see if we can get a little more range of motion in your knee today. How’s it feeling?"

Spencer shrugged slightly. "Stiff, but manageable," he replied. "I’m trying not to overthink it."

You nodded in approval, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Good strategy. Just remember, slow and steady wins the race."

He met your gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I’ll keep that in mind… though I’ve never been very good at pacing myself."

—

Today you greeted him with a warm smile. "How’s the leg holding up today? Ready for some more fun?" you asked, your tone light and encouraging.

Spencer met your gaze with a playful grin, the tension from previous sessions now mostly replaced with a sense of friendship. "If by ‘fun’ you mean more quad exercises, then I can hardly contain my excitement," he quipped, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response, enjoying the banter that had developed between the two of you. "Don’t worry, I’ll make it as enjoyable as possible," you teased back, a mischievous glint in your eye. "We can always spice it up with some trivia."

At that, Spencer’s expression brightened even more. "Trivia? Now you’re speaking my language," he replied, clearly intrigued. "Just don’t go easy on me."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your voice as you responded, "Wouldn’t dream of it. Get ready, Spencer. I hope you’ve been studying."

—

"Alright," you began, today there was a hint of mischief in your voice as you glanced at him . "Let’s see if we can get a little more flexibility out of that knee today. I know it’s your favorite part."

Spencer’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "You’re really starting to understand my love for torture," he quipped, his tone laced with sarcasm, though there was a softness in his expression that suggested he didn’t mind the challenge as much as he pretended to.

You couldn’t help but laugh, playing along with a mock-serious look. "Well, if it helps, I think I’m getting better at dishing it out. But seriously, you’re doing great," you added, your voice turning more sincere as you looked at him, hoping to convey how much progress he had truly made.

Spencer tilted his head, the teasing glint in his eyes growing stronger. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he remarked, clearly enjoying the banter.

With a playful wink, you replied, "I’ll keep that in mind."

—

“Okay, Spencer, this one’s going to be a bit tougher. Ready?” you asked, glancing at him with a hint of challenge in your eyes during this session.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smirk. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” you replied, your smirk matching his. “But I promise, if you make it through this, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

Spencer’s other eyebrow joined the first, his interest piqued. “A bribe? How very professional of you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and teasing. “Hey, whatever works. Besides, I know your weakness for good coffee.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. “You’ve been paying attention. I might just have to hold you to that offer.”

“Deal,” you said with a playful wink, moving closer to guide him through the tougher exercises. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got, Dr. Reid.”

—

As Spencer walked into the therapy room for his session, he was greeted with a warm smile and a familiar, teasing tone. "How’s my favorite patient doing today?" you asked, your voice light and welcoming.

Spencer couldn’t help but return the smile, a playful glint in his eye as he replied, "Favorite? I’ll try not to let it go to my head."

You grinned, the banter between you both becoming second nature by now. "You’re lucky you’ve got that charm. Otherwise, I might make you do extra reps."

"I’ll remember that next time I’m tempted to be difficult," Spencer quipped, his tone just as playful, though there was a genuine warmth beneath it.

"Good plan," you said with a nod, before your expression softened slightly. "But seriously, you’re making great progress. Pretty soon, you’ll be back to chasing down unsubs."

Spencer’s smile grew a bit wider, the teasing still evident in his voice as he responded, "And I’ll be sure to tell them all about my excellent physical therapist."

A soft chuckle escaped you, and you met his gaze, your voice gentle as you said, "I’ll be waiting to hear that story."

—

While the team was out on a case, Spencer and Penelope found themselves working together in her Bat Cave, the hum of computers and the click of keys filling the otherwise quiet space. It was a rare moment of calm in their usually hectic lives, and Spencer appreciated the company, even if the work they were doing was still demanding.

“How’s Kevin?” Spencer asked, breaking the silence as he glanced over at Penelope.

Penelope paused for a moment, her fingers hesitating over the keyboard before she responded. “He’s… fine. We haven’t been on a date in a while.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Spencer inquired, his curiosity piqued.

“I’m not sure. We’re both busy, it’s not a big deal,” Penelope replied, her tone making it clear she didn’t want to delve too deeply into the subject. It was unlike her to brush off a topic so quickly, but Spencer respected her boundaries and decided not to press further.

Instead, Penelope shifted the focus, a mischievous glint in her eye as she asked, “How is your love life, Boy Wonder?”

Spencer snorted at the question, shaking his head. “Non-existent.”

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with a mix of sympathy and determination. “Do you want me to set you up with someone? I have single friends!”

“No, thank you, I’m okay,” Spencer replied quickly, his voice firm but kind. The last thing he needed was to be thrust into a blind date arranged by Penelope, well-meaning as she was.

Penelope pouted slightly but didn’t push the issue. “Okay… but think about it!” she added, her tone playful, though there was a hint of genuine concern behind it.

Spencer just smiled, appreciating her efforts but knowing that his mind was already occupied with someone else—someone who made him look forward to his weekly therapy sessions in a way he hadn’t expected. But that was something he wasn’t quite ready to share, not yet.

—

“Ow!” Spencer winced as a sharp pain shot through his leg, catching both of you off guard.

“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry, Spencer. I didn’t mean to push too far. Are you okay?” Your voice was filled with concern as you immediately eased the pressure, your hands hovering just above his leg, ready to help if needed.

Spencer forced a small, embarrassed smile, trying to downplay the discomfort. “Yeah, hah, I’m fine,” he said, though his flushed cheeks told a different story.

You offered him a reassuring smile, sensing his unease. “It’s okay if we need to take a break.”

“Okay… maybe a little one,” he admitted, feeling a bit sheepish but grateful for the pause.

“For sure,” you said with a nod, standing up. “I’ll go get you some water.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, watching as you left the room. He let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort.

When you returned, Spencer couldn’t help but notice how stunning you looked today—though, in truth, he thought you looked gorgeous every day. But something about today caught his attention more than usual. Your pants were form-fitting, hugging your figure in a way that made it hard for him to focus on anything else. And your top… well, it clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating every curve, every roll, and, in this chilly room, every… bump. The air conditioning was doing its job a little too well.

Spencer quickly averted his gaze, feeling his face heat up, and hoped you hadn’t noticed the direction of his thoughts. He took the water you offered with a grateful nod, trying to distract himself from the sudden rush of awareness that had flooded his senses.

“Here you go,” you said, handing him the bottle with a warm smile. “Take your time, okay? We��ll go at your pace.”

“Thanks,” Spencer murmured, taking a sip of the cool water, though it did little to calm the warmth in his cheeks. He was still focused on recovering, but now there was an added layer of distraction—one that made the idea of these sessions both thrilling and terrifying.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay, doctor?” you asked, noticing the bright flush on Spencer’s face. Your concern was evident, your eyes searching his for any sign of discomfort beyond what he’d already admitted.

“Yes, doctor,” Spencer teased back with a small, sheepish grin. “Why?”

“Your face is really red,” you pointed out gently. “You can tell me if we need to be done for the day.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I promise,” he insisted, though the blush on his cheeks only deepened as he realized you’d noticed. He quickly tried to redirect the conversation. 

“Okay,” you said, still watching him carefully. “Let’s just rest for a bit. Can I sit?” You gestured to the patient bed where Spencer was currently resting.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, starting to scoot over to make room, but you plopped yourself down on the opposite end anyway, your casual movement making him relax a bit.

“So, um, do you have any fun plans for the weekend?” Spencer asked, eager to keep the conversation going and to steer it away from his embarrassment.

“Yeah, actually! I’m going to a new club with some friends,” you responded with a bright smile, clearly looking forward to it.

“Nice,” Spencer said, though internally, he had no idea what going to a club entailed. It wasn’t exactly his scene. Still, he was trying to be polite and keep the conversation light. “Will your boyfriend be going?”

Your brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but there was a playful glint in your eyes. “Who told you I have a boyfriend?”

Spencer felt his heart skip a beat, a pang of regret hitting him as he fumbled for words. “Uh, I just, um, assumed…”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, no, he’s not going. He’s not allowed in.”

“Oh,” Spencer said, confusion and curiosity in his voice. “Why?”

“They frown upon bringing dogs into clubs,” you replied with a grin, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

Spencer blinked, processing your words, before a wide smile spread across his face. “You had me there for a second.”

“Good,” you teased back, your laughter light and infectious. “I’m single, Spencer. Just me and my dog.”

Spencer’s heart, which had momentarily broken at the thought of you having a boyfriend, slowly pieced itself back together. The relief he felt was palpable, though he tried not to show it too much. “Well, your dog sounds like great company.”

“He is,” you agreed, still smiling as you settled more comfortably on the bed. “But it’s nice to have human company too.”

Spencer nodded, his own smile lingering as the tension between you two melted away, replaced by an easy, comfortable rapport that made him feel just a bit braver. “I’ll, um, have to think of something fun to do this weekend too.”

“Well,” you said, giving him a playful nudge with your foot, “if you need ideas, you know where to find me.”

—

Spencer had spent the weekend mentally preparing himself, trying to muster up the courage to take a step outside his comfort zone and maybe even visit the club you had mentioned. But as the days passed, the idea of loud music, crowded spaces, and unfamiliar social dynamics became more daunting than exciting. In the end, he stayed home, retreating to the familiar comfort of his books and routine. 

However, something had shifted in him after your last conversation. The way you had laughed, the playful teasing about your “boyfriend,” and the easy, comfortable rapport between you—it all made Spencer feel like maybe, just maybe, his attraction to you wasn’t as one-sided as he had feared. That small spark of hope ignited something in him, and by the time his next session rolled around, he was determined to push the boundaries of your interactions, just a little.

As soon as he walked into the room, he could tell there was a different energy in the air. You greeted him with your usual warm smile, but there was something in your eyes, a glint that made his heart race just a bit faster.

“Hey, Spencer,” you said, your voice bright as you guided him to the usual spot. “How was your weekend? Did you end up finding something fun to do?”

Spencer hesitated for a split second, then decided to go for it. “Well, I thought about going to that club you mentioned,” he began, watching your reaction carefully.

“Oh really?” you asked, clearly intrigued. “What happened? Did you chicken out?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “But I figured if I was going to do something that bold, I’d need a good reason. Maybe some company?”

Spencer's confidence had been steadily growing throughout the session, especially after the playful banter you shared earlier. But when you leaned in just a bit closer, your eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief, and said, “Company, huh? I’m sure you could find someone to go with you,” he felt a sudden drop in his stomach. 

He tried to keep the conversation going, hoping he hadn’t misread the situation entirely. “Yeah? Do you know anyone?” he asked, forcing a smile to mask the uncertainty creeping in.

You tilted your head, a teasing grin on your lips as you replied, “I can’t say I do, but if I find someone who screams ‘Spencer Reid,’ I’ll send them your way.” You finished with a wink before turning your attention back to the session.

Spencer’s heart sank. Had he completely misjudged the situation? Maybe his earlier confidence had been misplaced, and the connection he thought was there was just friendly banter after all. As you continued guiding him through the exercises, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of defeat, the playful atmosphere from earlier now tinged with doubt.

Later in the session, you left the room to grab one of the measuring tools you needed, leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. He leaned back on the patient bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to shake off the disappointment gnawing at him.

That’s when he heard voices in the hallway, one of them unmistakably yours. He wasn’t the type to eavesdrop, but curiosity—and maybe a bit of desperation—got the better of him. He strained to listen, his heart beating faster as he realized you were talking about him.

“You think he was going to ask you out?” said another female voice.

“I don’t know, it seemed like it,” you replied, your tone carrying a hint of uncertainty. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. Had he been that obvious?

“Isn’t that good? I thought you said he was cute and funny,” the other voice continued, sounding encouraging.

There was a brief pause before you responded, your voice a bit softer. “He’s my patient, it doesn’t matter. That can’t happen.”

Spencer’s heart sank further. So that was it. The connection he felt was real, but there was an undeniable barrier between you two—one that you weren’t willing to cross.

“You’re right. Just be nice,” the other voice advised.

“I always am,” you replied, your tone resigned but still kind.

A moment later, the door to the room opened, and you reentered with the measuring tool in hand. Your expression was as warm and professional as ever, but Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment that had settled in his chest. He forced a smile, trying to act as if he hadn’t overheard anything, though the knowledge weighed heavily on him.

The rest of the session continued, but the lightheartedness from earlier was replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere. Spencer kept up the conversation as best he could, but there was a lingering sadness beneath his words. It wasn’t just about his injury anymore—it was about the realization that, no matter how much he might want it, there were some lines that simply couldn’t be crossed.

—

“Hey, Penelope?” Spencer’s voice carried a hint of hesitance as he approached her workstation, trying to muster up the courage for what he was about to ask.

Penelope swiveled her chair around, her bright eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of him. “Yes, my love?” she replied, her usual affectionate tone bringing a small smile to Spencer’s face.

“Do you still have a friend you could set me up with?” Spencer asked, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. He wasn’t sure what had pushed him to ask, but after the recent disappointment, he figured it might be worth a shot.

Penelope’s reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward, her hands clasped together in excitement. “Are you serious? You’re being for real? You’re not just messing with me?”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head at her enthusiasm. “I’m being very serious.”

A squeal of delight escaped Penelope as she practically bounced in her seat. “Yes! I have the perfect friend for you! Oh em gee!!!” she exclaimed, her excitement palpable.

Spencer chuckled, feeling some of his earlier doubts melt away in the face of Penelope’s infectious energy. Maybe this wasn’t what he had originally hoped for, but seeing her so happy about helping him made him feel like he was making the right choice. 

“Tell me everything!” Penelope demanded, her fingers already flying across her keyboard as she began to plan out every detail. “What are you looking for? What should I tell her about you? Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

Spencer smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. It wasn’t the path he had initially imagined, but maybe this new direction would lead to something just as fulfilling. “I trust your judgment, Penelope,” he said with a grin. “Just… make sure she’s okay with a guy who’s a little bit of a nerd, and on crutches.”

Penelope beamed, her heart bursting with joy at the prospect of playing matchmaker for her dear friend. “Spencer Reid, you’re in the best hands. She’s going to love you.”

—

The night of Spencer's blind date had arrived, and his nerves were running rampant. Despite trusting Penelope’s judgment, he couldn't shake the anxiety gnawing at him. She had insisted that he fully embrace the blind date experience, right down to not even knowing the woman’s name. All she had told him was that he should look for a woman in a red dress.

Sitting at the table in the cozy, dimly lit restaurant, Spencer tried to steady his breathing, his fingers drumming nervously against the tablecloth. The uncertainty was overwhelming, and he found himself glancing at the door every few seconds, half-expecting to make a quick exit if things went south.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, and with every passing moment, his heart beat faster. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of deep red fabric. He turned, his breath hitching as he saw the back of a woman at the host's stand, her figure silhouetted perfectly in the elegant red dress. Even from behind, she looked stunning, and for a brief moment, Spencer felt a flicker of excitement, his nerves momentarily forgotten.

But as she turned to scan the room, her eyes searching for him, Spencer’s heart nearly stopped. It was you.

All the blood seemed to drain from his face as he sat there, frozen in place. His mind raced, trying to process what was happening. Of all the people in the world, Penelope had set him up with you—his physical therapist, the woman he had been crushing on for weeks.

You spotted him almost instantly, your eyes widening in surprise, and for a moment, you looked just as shocked as he felt. But then your expression softened, and a small, tentative smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Spencer swallowed hard, his anxiety now mixing with a sense of disbelief. He hadn’t expected this at all. What were the chances? He could barely keep his thoughts straight as you walked toward him, your movements graceful and confident, though there was a hint of nervousness in your eyes that mirrored his own.

“Spencer?” you said softly as you reached the table, your voice laced with surprise and something else—something warm, perhaps even hopeful.

He managed to nod, still struggling to find his voice. “Y-Yes… it’s me,” he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. “I didn’t… I had no idea…”

You chuckled softly, the sound doing wonders to ease the tension between you. “Neither did I,” you admitted, settling into the seat across from him. There was a playful glint in your eye as you added, “I guess you work in the BAU at the FBI, huh?”

Spencer nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “I do. How do you know Penelope?”

“We do wine and painting together every month,” you explained with a fond smile, recalling the origins of your friendship. “After a few classes, we started sitting together, and the rest is history.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe you’re my blind date.”

“And you’re mine,” you replied, matching his smile with one of your own.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before asking, “Is that okay? I know I’m your patient…”

You tilted your head slightly, considering his words before replying with a hint of teasing in your voice. “Well, technically, I’m not supposed to see my patients outside of PT… but I’ll make an exception for tonight.”

“Right, tonight,” Spencer echoed, relief and excitement coursing through him. He could hardly believe how the evening had unfolded, but there was something undeniably thrilling about it.

The two of you shared a moment of quiet understanding, the reality of the situation settling in. Despite the unexpected turn of events, the chemistry between you was undeniable, and the restrictions that had once seemed so daunting now felt less significant in the warm glow of the restaurant's soft lighting.

As the evening progressed and the initial surprise wore off, the conversation between you and Spencer flowed effortlessly. There was a natural rhythm to your interactions, a playfulness that neither of you could resist indulging in.

“So, Spencer,” you began, taking a sip of your wine and meeting his gaze over the candlelit table, “what’s it like being a genius? Do you just know everything, or do you still get surprised sometimes?”

Spencer chuckled, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I wouldn’t say I know everything,” he replied, his tone modest but with a teasing glint in his eye. “I get surprised plenty—like tonight, for example.”

“Oh?” you tilted your head, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Surprised in a good way, I hope?”

“Very good,” Spencer admitted, his eyes flickering to yours, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “I mean, how often does someone get set up on a blind date with someone they already know—and like?”

Spencer’s blush deepened, the pink tint spreading across his cheeks as he looked at you with wide eyes. "Oh, you like me, do you?" you teased, your voice light and playful, but with a hint of something more beneath the surface.

"Was that not obvious?" Spencer stammered, his blush deepening further, and you couldn’t help but smile at how endearing he was.

"It was plenty obvious, Doctor. Don’t worry," you reassured him, leaning in just slightly to close the distance between you.

Spencer let out a small, relieved laugh. "Oh goodie! I was worried I wasn’t making a fool out of myself."

"You weren’t," you said softly, your smile growing as you watched him. There was something so genuine about Spencer, something that made it easy to be honest with him. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Absolutely," Spencer replied, a playful glint in his eye as he leaned in closer, mimicking your earlier movement. "I might tell everyone I know, but you can still tell me."

You giggled at his response, the sound light and full of warmth. "Amazing," you said, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I don’t have to touch you as much as I do during our sessions... I just really like how your legs look in those shorts."

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he seemed completely caught off guard. His mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out. Finally, he managed to stammer, "You… you what?"

"I like how your legs look," you repeated, your tone playful yet sincere. "And those shorts you wear? They make it hard to keep things strictly professional."

Spencer’s blush, which had just started to fade, flared up again in full force. He let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I had no idea… I mean, I didn’t think—"

"You’re cute when you’re flustered," you interrupted gently, reaching out to place a hand over his. The gesture was simple, but it sent a jolt of warmth through both of you. "And just so you know, you’re definitely not making a fool out of yourself. In fact, I’m really glad Penelope set this up."

Spencer looked down at your hand on his, then back up at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and affection. "Me too," he said softly, his voice carrying a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. "More than you know."

—

As the waiter poured the wine, the atmosphere between you and Spencer lightened even more, the earlier nerves melting away with each sip. You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched Spencer take a tentative sip from his glass, his expression one of cautious appreciation.

"How’s the wine, Doctor?" you teased, raising your glass to him with a playful grin.

Spencer chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass like he was trying to remember some long-forgotten etiquette. "I think it’s good," he said, though his tone was more curious than certain. "I’m not exactly a connoisseur, but I think I could get used to this."

"Oh, I bet you could," you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And who knows, maybe by the end of the night, you’ll be an expert."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. "Are you planning on getting me drunk?"

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as you replied, "Maybe just tipsy enough to loosen you up, Doctor. You’re pretty cute when you’re not overthinking everything."

He laughed, a sound that was becoming more frequent as the evening went on. "Is that so? Well, in that case, maybe I should order another bottle."

"Oh, I see how it is," you giggled, raising your glass to take another sip. "Trying to get me drunk so I’ll spill all my secrets?"

Spencer leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. "I don’t need wine for that. You already admitted you like how my legs look in those shorts."

You laughed, the sound bubbly and warm, and you playfully nudged him with your foot under the table. "Guilty as charged. But don’t get too cocky, Doctor Reid. I’ve got plenty more secrets I haven’t shared yet."

Spencer’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, and he leaned back in his chair, giving you an appreciative once-over. "Now that’s something I’d like to hear more about," he said, his tone flirtatious but with a genuine interest that made your heart flutter.

You smirked, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, you’ll have to earn those secrets, Spencer. I don’t just give them away."

"Challenge accepted," Spencer replied, his grin widening as he clinked his glass against yours. "But I warn you, I’m pretty good at uncovering secrets."

"Is that so?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe I’ll have to keep you on your toes, then."

"I think I’d like that," Spencer said, his voice softening as he held your gaze, the playful banter giving way to something a bit more serious, but no less exciting.

The wine continued to flow, and with it, the conversation grew flirtier, the two of you slipping into a comfortable rhythm that was as intoxicating as the wine itself. The night felt like a blur of laughter, teasing words, and shared glances, each one charged with a growing connection that neither of you could deny.

As the glasses emptied and the night wore on, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something new—something wonderful. And by the way you were looking at him, your smile bright and your eyes full of promise, he had a feeling you were thinking the same thing.

—

You held the door open for Spencer as you both exited the restaurant, then hailed a cab with practiced ease. Spencer couldn’t help but notice the way you held the door open for him once more, a small gesture that felt both kind and distant at the same time.

“One stop or two?” the cab driver asked, his voice breaking through the quiet night air.

“Two,” you responded, offering Spencer an apologetic smile that made his heart sink just a little.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, Spencer started to get the sense that this night—this connection—was slipping away, becoming nothing more than a fleeting exchange.

“This isn’t going to continue, is it?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with the disappointment he was trying to keep at bay.

You sighed softly, placing your hand gently on his, your expression filled with genuine regret. “Spencer,” you began, your voice tender but firm, “I’m your physical therapist. You’re my patient.”

“But we like each other,” Spencer pressed, his heart pounding with the desperate hope that maybe, somehow, you could make this work.

“So much,” you agreed, your eyes softening as you met his gaze. “But I can’t cross that boundary.”

“We already did,” he argued, his tone filled with frustration and a touch of disbelief. “We’re more than just patient and therapist.”

You nodded, your expression pained. “We’re friends, and we had a meal together,” you said gently. “But I’m sorry, Spencer. I can’t let it go beyond that.”

As the cab pulled up outside Spencer’s building, he gave you a look that was filled with hurt, disappointment, and a sense of finality. “Maybe Penelope isn’t as good of a matchmaker as I thought,” he muttered, his voice heavy with emotion. Then, without waiting for a response, he slammed the door to the cab shut, the sound echoing in the night as he moved away.

You watched him go, a heavy weight settling in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t care for him—far from it. But the lines had been drawn, and you knew you couldn’t cross them, no matter how much you wished you could. As the cab pulled away, you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been, even as you tried to convince yourself that you had done the right thing.

—

“Spencer, baby!” Penelope’s voice rang out the moment he stepped into the office the next morning. She rushed over to him, her eyes wide with excitement and anticipation. “How was your date? Did you love her? I know you did!”

Spencer’s expression was flat, his usual warmth replaced by a cool detachment. “I did not,” he replied, his tone clipped and final.

Penelope’s face fell instantly, the excitement draining from her features as she looked at him in shock. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “But… what happened? I thought it was going to be perfect.”

Spencer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. “It wasn’t what I expected, Penelope. I… we had a nice time, but she made it clear that it couldn’t go anywhere.”

“But… but why?” Penelope stammered, clearly upset. “I thought she was perfect for you! I mean, I was so sure…”

“She was,” Spencer admitted, his voice softening. “She’s great, really. But she’s my physical therapist, and she didn’t want to cross that boundary.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped, guilt and sadness flooding her eyes. “Oh, Spencer… I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I just thought… I just wanted you to be happy.”

Spencer gave her a small, sad smile, trying to ease the tension. “I know, Penelope. And I appreciate it. You were trying to help, and I’m grateful for that.”

Penelope nodded, tears welling up in her eyes as she reached out to hug him. “I’m really sorry, Spencer. I never wanted to make things harder for you.”

Spencer hugged her back, his voice gentle as he reassured her. “It’s okay. You didn’t know, and it’s not your fault. I’m glad you care enough to try.”

Penelope pulled back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just… I just want you to find someone who makes you happy.”

“I know,” Spencer said, giving her another small smile. “And I will. Just… not this time.”

Penelope nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of unintended consequences. She wanted so badly to make things right for him, but now she could only hope that time would help heal the disappointment she had inadvertently caused.

—

“Y/N, you have a new patient today,” your supervisor informed you as you glanced up from the paperwork on your desk.

“What about Spencer Reid?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual, though the question carried more weight than you intended.

“He’s seeing a different therapist,” your supervisor replied, flipping through the schedule without much thought.

“Oh…” The single syllable lingered in the air, heavy with disappointment. You hesitated for a moment before asking, “Can I ask why?”

Your supervisor looked up, her expression indifferent as she explained, “Something about your schedule not fitting his anymore.”

You nodded slowly, trying to process the news. “Okay, that’s—” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat, “that’s fine.”

But as you turned back to your paperwork, the reality of the situation sank in. It wasn’t just about schedules or convenience; this was the consequence of the boundary you had enforced, the one that was meant to protect both of you. Yet, knowing that Spencer was now in someone else’s care left a hollow ache in your chest that you hadn’t anticipated.

The rest of the day felt a little off-kilter, your thoughts drifting back to Spencer more often than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t help but wonder how he was doing, whether he was okay, and if he understood why things had to be this way. It was the right decision, you reminded yourself, even if it didn’t feel like it.

—

“Penny, he dropped me,” you said, your voice heavy with disappointment as you leaned against the doorframe of Penelope’s kitchen. “He’s not even my patient anymore.”

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise, but then a grin spread across her face. “That’s great! You can date now!”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not that simple, Penny. He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Penelope’s expression softened, and she gave you a sympathetic look. “He’ll come around. He just feels rejected, that’s all. You could go explain yourself, you know.”

“I don’t even have his number,” you admitted, feeling a pang of helplessness. It wasn’t like you could just show up at his door and expect him to listen. The lines between patient and therapist had already been blurred, and now they were more complicated than ever.

“Uhh, don’t be silly, missy. I do,” Penelope said with a playful smirk, pulling out her phone and waving it in the air like it was the answer to all your problems.

You blinked, surprised by her quick solution. “You’d really give it to me?”

“Of course!” Penelope replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of determination. “Spencer’s my friend, and so are you. If there’s a chance you two can work this out, I’m all for it.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the risks, but the thought of not reaching out to Spencer gnawed at you. Maybe Penelope was right; maybe you needed to explain yourself, to let him know how you really felt.

“Okay,” you said finally, your resolve strengthening. “Give me his number.”

Penelope’s grin widened as she quickly typed on her phone and handed it over to you. “Go get him, girl.”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of nerves and hope as you took the phone from her. “Thanks, Penny. I’ll try.”

—

Later that night, as you sat in the comfort of your apartment, the familiar hum of city life just outside your window, you finally mustered up the courage to dial the number Penelope had given you. Your heart pounded in your chest, each ring feeling like an eternity until you heard his voice on the other end.

“Spencer Reid, who is calling?”

“Hey… it’s Y/N. Your ex-therapist,” you said, your voice softer than you intended, trying to gauge his reaction.

There was a brief pause before he responded, “Oh.”

The single word carried a weight that made your stomach churn with anxiety. You took a deep breath, pushing forward despite the tension. “Yeah, I hope it’s okay I got your number from Penny.”

“Why?” Spencer’s voice was guarded, and you could tell he was still hurting.

“I wanted to talk to you. Can we meet up?” you asked, trying to keep your tone hopeful, though the uncertainty gnawed at you.

“When?” he asked, his voice giving nothing away.

“Tomorrow? You could come over?” you suggested, hoping the familiar, private setting might make things a bit easier.

“Fine. Send me your address,” Spencer replied, his tone clipped but not completely closed off.

“Okay, see you—” you started to say, but the line went dead before you could finish. You stared at your phone, a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation swirling in your chest.

He was coming over. You had a chance to explain, to make things right. But now that the call was over, the reality of what tomorrow might bring settled in. You just hoped that when the time came, you’d find the right words to say.

—

Spencer knocked with perfect punctuality, 6 pm sharp, just as you were adjusting the final details in your apartment. The soft sound of the knock sent a flutter through your chest, a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

You opened the door to find him standing there, his expression unreadable, but his eyes softened as he took you in. “Hi,” you breathed, a bit of your earlier confidence wavering under his gaze.

“Hi, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and calm, though you could tell he was just as unsure as you were. Your beauty, as always, took him by surprise, rendering him momentarily speechless.

“Please, come in,” you said, stepping aside to let him enter.

Spencer stepped into your apartment, his eyes immediately scanning the space. The warm, inviting atmosphere of your home greeted him, filled with soft light from the setting sun filtering through the windows. The room was decorated with personal touches—lush green plants, carefully selected books lining the wooden shelves, and artwork that gave the space a cozy, lived-in feel. It was a reflection of you, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for how things had turned out.

“Can I pour you some wine? I found the one from the restaurant,” you offered, trying to break the tension and bring back a little of the familiarity you both shared that night.

“Sure, thank you,” Spencer replied, his tone polite but still holding a touch of reserve.

You moved to the kitchen area, retrieving the bottle of wine and two glasses. As you poured, you could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look up just yet. There was so much unsaid between you, so much that needed to be addressed, and you weren’t sure where to start.

Handing him a glass, you finally met his gaze. “I’m really glad you came,” you said softly, your sincerity clear.

Spencer took the glass from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. “I wasn’t sure if I should,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“I know,” you replied, taking a small sip of your wine to steady yourself. “But I’m glad you did. We need to talk, Spencer. I need to explain.”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening just a bit. “Yeah… we do.”

You gestured toward the comfortable seating area, and the two of you moved to sit down, the warmth of the room offering a bit of comfort as you prepared to finally have the conversation that had been hanging over you both.

Spencer settled onto the couch, his posture stiff as he tried to maintain a semblance of calm. The warmth of your apartment contrasted with the tension between you, and he took a slow sip of his wine, waiting for you to speak.

You sat across from him, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched for the right words. After a moment of silence, you decided to just be honest. “I’m sorry I rejected you,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “That was wrong of me.”

Spencer’s gaze flickered with surprise, but he remained silent, letting you continue.

“There are things we could have done,” you went on, feeling a weight lift slightly as you spoke. “Ways we could have moved around the rules, ways to handle it more delicately. But instead, I stiffed you and hurt you. I didn’t give us a chance to figure it out. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”

Spencer’s grip tightened slightly around his glass, his expression a mixture of emotions—confusion, hurt, and perhaps a bit of understanding. “It wasn’t just about the rules, was it?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours.

You shook your head, feeling a lump form in your throat. “No, it wasn’t. I was scared, Spencer. Scared of crossing a line, of losing my job, of making a mistake that couldn’t be undone. But in trying to protect myself, I ended up hurting you… and that’s something I never wanted to do.”

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I understand why you were scared,” he admitted, his voice softening. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I know,” you whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “And I can’t take back what I did. But I want you to know that I care about you, Spencer. I really do. And if there’s any way we can move forward—whether that’s as friends or something more—I’m willing to try.”

Spencer looked down at his glass, his mind clearly racing as he processed your words. After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked back up at you, his expression gentler than before.

“I care about you too,” he said quietly. “And I want to move forward. But I need to know that we’re both on the same page, that this isn’t just something we’re doing because of… circumstances.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he was willing to talk about it. “I agree. I don’t want to force anything. But I also don’t want to walk away from something that could be real, just because it’s complicated.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, tentative smile. “I guess we’re both pretty good at making things complicated, huh?”

You chuckled softly, the tension between you easing just a bit. “Yeah, we are. But maybe… maybe we can figure it out together?”

Spencer took another sip of his wine, his smile growing a little more confident. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice warm and genuine.

And with those simple words, the gap that had formed between you began to close, replaced by the possibility of something new—a fresh start, built on honesty, understanding, and the connection you both knew was there all along.

Spencer’s tentative smile grew into something more playful as he leaned back slightly, the tension between you all but dissolved. “Does that mean free, private physical therapy sessions?” he teased, his tone light, though there was a spark of mischief in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound easing the last remnants of anxiety you had been holding onto. Leaning forward, you matched his playful tone, raising an eyebrow as you replied, “Only if you don’t wear any shorts.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then he laughed—a deep, genuine sound that filled the room with warmth. “I’ll have to consider that,” he quipped, the playful banter between you rekindling that familiar connection.

“Well, take your time,” you said with a grin, feeling the ease and comfort return between you. “But just so you know, I’m a lot stricter when it comes to private sessions.”

“Is that so?” Spencer leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper. “Maybe I’m up for the challenge.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the flirtation now fully out in the open. “Well, Doctor Reid, I’ll be sure to make it worth your while,” you replied, your tone equally soft and playful.

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, the air between you charged with excitement and anticipation. The conversation had started with apologies and uncertainty, but now, sitting here together, it felt like the beginning of something new—something you were both more than ready to explore.

“Looks like we’ve got a lot to figure out,” Spencer said softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yeah,” you agreed, a warm smile spreading across your face. “But I think we’re off to a pretty good start.”

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

[reverie-starlight]

this is my contribution to @tetzoro 's summer olympics collab! this is so late >.< but I can't wait to go look through all the other fics people have written for the collab!!

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff (of course). suna and aran can't stand atsumu's antics, but what else is new? atsumu misses you and he makes it everyone else's problem.

atsumu has been staring at his phone for twenty minutes.

suna makes note of this from where he's seated in the tiny living area of their shared olympic village apartment. it irritates suna, actually, because for someone who made a such big deal of their room assignments and got a bit weepy over how it reminded him of their high school days, atsumu couldn't seem to care less about his roommates right now.

aran (the third occupant of their dorm) appears in the doorway and glances between his two juniors. "is he still on that thing?" he asks, seemingly surprised by this.

suna shrugs and snaps a picture of the blonde when he smiles at his phone, quickly sending it to osamu with a message of how much of a dork his twin is.

leave him be

he replies, making suna's eyebrow raise. osamu coming to his defence? that's new.

he's got separation issues when it comes to her, I swear. he's like a puppy.

there it is. he snorts and puts his phone away, throwing a pillow at atsumu. the setter just uses it as an arm rest and continues to ignore them.

"hey, loverboy," aran calls and finally gets his attention. "we're heading down to get some lunch, ya coming?"

atsumu's eyes widen a bit. "it's that late already? yeah, I'll be down in a minute, save me a spot."

the other two look at each other knowingly and shut the door behind them.

now normally atsumu wouldn't be so glued to his screen on the first day of the olympics, but then again- last time around they were in tokyo and his girlfriend was no more than a couple hours away at any given time.

this year, he's in paris and about a 13 hour flight away with a 7 hour time difference from his fiancée. it would still be manageable for him, of course- he's not as clingy as you or his brother make him out to be, he swears- if not for the fact that your boss denied your time off and you wouldn't be in attendance at any of his games.

as soon as he's alone, he's facetiming you and the ache of not being near you is lessened by the bright smile you pop up on his screen with.

"hi 'tsum, how's it going over there?" you're cuddled up on the couch with a blanket.

he shrugs. "there's no AC. the beds are cardboard again. but I'm rooming with rin and aran, so that's nice."

"not sakusa and meian? I thought the plan was to keep the ones who played on the same league team pre-olympics in the same room?"

he shakes his head. "we got to make room requests this time. he's rooming with ushijima this time around."

you giggle and his mind goes a little fuzzy. "I'm sure after what happened in tokyo, he'd be more than happy to be rooming with anyone other than you."

atsumu rolls his eyes. "he made it seem worse than it was. we didn't even get into that much trouble, I mean, what's a little scolding from our managers?"

you raise an eyebrow. "you almost caused the entire village to evacuate."

"anyway," he transitions to another topic before he can be reminded of that night. "what are your plans for the rest the night?"

you hum thoughtfully. "I dunno, maybe I'll watch a movie... maybe I'll rewatch that clip of you almost tripping during the opening ceremonies..." your lips stretch into a playful grin as you tease him for his blunder.

"HEY, barely anyone noticed!"

you snort. "if by barely anyone, you mean everyone watching then sure, baby. oh, what time is it for you?"

he lets your comment slide for now and addresses your question instead. "just after noon, why?"

"have you eaten yet?"

"was just about to," he shrugs.

you narrow your eyes. “miya atsumu, you’d better not be skipping lunch just to talk to me.”

he’s unable keep the guilty expression off his face when you hit him with that tone. “I wasn’t-”

“don’t even think about lying to me. as soon as I hang up you’re going to go meet your teammates for lunch and make some new friends.”

he pouts, but his heart warms at the idea that you still want to take care of him all the way across the world. although he is a little offended you think he needs to make friends. “ya sound like my ma.”

“for good reason! go eat, baby, you need to stay strong and healthy for your games. plus I’d feel so guilty if you missed out on all the fun stuff with your teammates because of me.”

he sighs, finally letting himself give into his hunger and agreeing with you. you say your goodbyes and he makes his way down to the cafeteria.

the days pass and while he’s not glued to his phone at all hours of the day anymore (thanks to practices starting up again on the olympic courts), his teammates often catch him snapping as many pictures as he can, no doubt to share them with you.

they don’t know how many texts you’ve received about how amazing the chocolate muffins are, but if it’s anywhere near the number of times they’ve had to hear him mention it in a day, they feel sorry for you.

and as the day of their first game grows closer, suna and aran can tell atsumu is more on edge than usual. he’s acting like he did in high school again, and they know it’s because he’s antsy about not having his fiancée in the stands for the first time in a while.

they’ve seen him double, triple and quadruple check the time zones to make sure he didn’t misread it. “she’ll probably be asleep…” he said when aran asked him about it one night.

they were getting a bit worried. obviously they know him well enough to understand that he’ll pull himself together in time for the game- he’d never let his feelings compromise his plays- but they’d much rather play alongside him in a good mood than a bad one.

but the problem seems to fix itself when he lights up along with his phone screen just before the game begins. suna looks over the setter’s shoulder to see a picture of you, cuddled up on the couch with your dog. your cheek has a small japanese flag painted on, and you’re wearing his MSBY jersey. it must be extremely late for you, but you’re smiling wide and holding up half a heart with your hand.

underneath the picture you sent a message wishing him luck and telling him how proud you are of him, telling him to play his absolute best.

and suna misses what your next message says, but he gets a pretty good idea based on how red atsumu’s ears get. he looks over at aran with a nod and the former inarizaki players silently thank you for your actions.

atsumu definitely wouldn’t be stepping onto the court in a bad mood now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I feel like this could’ve been better, and it definitely didn’t turn out how I originally wanted, but I’m still happy with how it turned out :3 hope u enjoyed !!

ty again to aims for hosting this collab and allowing me to join!!!

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can you write something for Logan with a reader who loves physical touch but is kinda scared to initiate it because doesn't want to look clingy/needy?

Maybe they're talking with Logan and they go to touch his leg or his arm but they stop midway or they lean their head on his shoulder just for a few seconds and go back to sitting straight fearing they overstepped, idk stuff like this and how loga would react.

Thank youuu 💕

Close Enough

The night was still, the kind of quiet Logan appreciated after a long day. The two of you sat side by side on the worn leather couch in his cabin, a fire crackling softly in the fireplace. The conversation had drifted into a comfortable silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. It was moments like these that you cherished most—being close to Logan, feeling the warmth of his presence.

But as much as you loved being near him, a small voice in the back of your mind kept you from reaching out, from closing the small distance between your hand and his. You were scared. Scared that if you let yourself touch him, if you gave in to the urge to lean against him, you’d be seen as too needy, too clingy. Logan wasn’t exactly the most open person, and you didn’t want to push him away.

Your hand twitched on the cushion beside you, fingers inching closer to his leg. You paused midway, your heart skipping a beat as doubt washed over you. What if he didn’t want you to? What if you were overstepping? The thought was enough to make you pull back, retreating before you could close the gap.

Logan’s eyes flicked over to you, catching the movement. He didn’t say anything, but the small furrow in his brow showed he’d noticed. You forced a smile and looked away, hoping he wouldn’t think too much of it.

Minutes passed, and you found yourself fighting the same battle. You wanted to be closer to him, to feel the reassurance of his solid presence. Steeling yourself, you leaned your head against his shoulder, just for a moment. The warmth of his body seeped into you, and for those few seconds, everything felt right. But just as quickly, you pulled back, sitting up straight as if nothing had happened. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, embarrassed by your own actions.

Logan didn’t move, but you could feel his gaze on you. The silence between you grew heavier, the crackling fire the only sound in the room. You swallowed hard, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

Finally, Logan broke the silence. “You don’t gotta hold back, darlin’.”

His voice was rough, but there was a softness to it that caught you off guard. You glanced at him, finding his intense blue eyes watching you, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“I’m not…” You started to deny it, but the words died in your throat. He’d seen right through you.

Logan let out a small sigh, more of an exhale, and shifted on the couch. Before you could react, his large, calloused hand was covering yours, his grip firm but gentle. He didn’t say anything more, just left his hand there, the warmth of his skin grounding you.

“You don’t gotta be scared ‘round me,” he continued, his voice low and steady. “I know I ain’t the easiest to get close to, but… if you wanna touch me, lean on me, whatever… I’m not gonna push you away.”

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. You hadn’t realized how much you’d needed to hear that, how much you’d been holding back out of fear. Tentatively, you turned your hand over under his, your fingers brushing against his rough palm. He didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch—just let you take your time.

Encouraged, you leaned back against him, this time letting your head rest fully on his shoulder. Logan didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but his hand squeezed yours, a silent reassurance that this was okay. That you were okay.

For a long time, you stayed like that, the fire crackling softly in the background, the weight of your fears slowly melting away. Logan’s presence was solid, steady, and as you finally allowed yourself to relax against him, you realized that this was what you’d been craving all along—a connection, the simple comfort of being close to him.

“Thanks,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

Logan didn’t respond right away, but when he did, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “Anytime, kid.”

And with that, you knew that you didn’t have to worry anymore. Logan might not say much, might not be the most open or affectionate person, but in his own way, he was telling you that you were enough. That your presence, your touch, was welcome. And that was more than you could have ever hoped for.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Helloooo ive comeback to give requests :v im sorry if i feel annoying. Can i get the rottmnt turtles reacting to their s/o wearing a bikini? Alsooo thank u in advanced 😅🥰

Their Reaction To Seeing You Wearing A Bikini For The First Time (Fluff/Suggestive)

Rise!Turtles x reader

A/N: I actually think that our boys are happy that you requested that one😂 Here ya go💚

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: A little suggestive in some areas, but nothing wild.

Raphael:

Raphael's reaction would be immediate and intense, his heart skipping a beat as he lays eyes on you in the bikini. He would be unable to tear his gaze away, his eyes roaming over every curve and contour with a mixture of awe and desire.

Raphael might find himself momentarily speechless, his usually sharp tongue failing him as he struggles to find the right words to express his admiration.

Once he regains his composure, he would offer you a smoldering look, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your beauty. Raphael might approach you with confident strides, his demeanor radiating a potent mix of attraction and affection.

He would likely pull you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you possessively as he presses a heated kiss to your lips, unable to resist the urge to show you just how much you affect him.

Raph would compliment you, no doubt about it. His compliments would be straightforward and sincere, his rough voice husky with emotion as he tells you how stunning you look in the bikini.

He might suggest moving to a more secluded spot, wanting to have you all to himself as he indulges in his desire to be close to you. Raphael would revel in the opportunity to spend time with you, whether it's lounging in the sun, going for a swim, or simply basking in each other's company.

He might suggest engaging in some playful water activities together, like a splash fight or daring you to dive off the diving board, enjoying the chance to spend time with you in a relaxed and carefree setting.

Throughout the day, he would steal glances at you whenever he thinks you're not looking, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of adoration and possessiveness, happy that you were his.

Leonardo:

Upon seeing you in the bikini, his first instinct would be to discreetly take a moment to appreciate your beauty, his gaze softening with affection as he admires your confidence and allure.

Leonardo would initially feel a rush of warmth and affection seeing you in a bikini, admiring your confidence and beauty. He might momentarily feel a bit flustered or unsure of how to react in the first few seconds, but he quickly composes himself, offering you a charming smile and compliments, putting on his famous smile.

Leo will find it hard to keep his eyes off you, but he will make an effort to focus on spending quality time together, whether it's swimming, sunbathing, or just relaxing side by side. But Leo being Leo, meant that he of course will find a way to make flirtatious comments.

He might suggest engaging in some activities together, that somehow will end up with the two of you making physical contact, hopefully making your interactions more and more heated, ending with you and him finding a secluded place you could enjoy yourselves.

Throughout the day, Leonardo would make an effort to show his affection for you through small gestures and thoughtful actions, wanting to make sure you feel cherished and appreciated.

He will steal glances at you when he thinks you're not looking, his gaze filled with admiration and affection as he marvels at the beauty of the person he loves. But if you were looking, he would not look away. Instead he would hold your gaze, before smiling flirtatiously at you, moving closer and plant another kiss on your lips, reminding you of what the two of you had been doing just a few moments ago.

He WILL look for a second chance to get that bikini off of you, mark my words.

Donatello:

Donatello would probably react with a mix of awe and admiration, appreciating both your physical appearance and your confidence. He might find himself momentarily speechless, his analytical mind momentarily overwhelmed by the sight of you in a bikini.

Donnie would likely express his admiration through compliments, perhaps commenting on how stunning you look or how the color of the bikini complements your features.

He might also suggest taking some photos together, not just because he wants to capture the moment but also because he genuinely enjoys documenting memories with you.

Donatello's gaze would linger on you at any given moment, his eyes tracing every curve and contour with a mixture of fascination and desire. He would want to make sure you feel comfortable and respected, so he would likely approach you with a gentle smile and a somewhat shy demeanor.

Donnie will like to spend time together, a little further away from his brothers, engaging in calm activities that both you and him would find comforting, disappearing into your own little world.

Donatello would make an effort to show his affection for you through small gestures and thoughtful actions, wanting to make sure you feel cherished and appreciated, just like you made him feel around you.

He might occasionally steal glances at you, his gaze filled with admiration and affection as he marvels at the beauty of the person he loves. He tends to focus his gaze on small areas of your body, getting lost in his own thoughts as he would admire you, before pulling you close for yet another kiss.

Donnie will be more than happy to engage in some intimate activities, but not before you let him know that you want it. He doesn't really start those interactions that often, but he will happily partake when you start them.

Michelangelo:

Michelangelo would react with unabashed enthusiasm and excitement, his face moving with the large expressions he was known for, and his eyes lighting up, doubling in size at the sight of you in a bikini.

He might let out exaggerated expressions before rushing over to you with a big grin. You never thought you would hear a guy yell “oh me gosh!”, at the sight of you in a bikini.

Mikey would be all about having fun and making the most of the moment together. He might even try to show off a bit, doing some flashy moves or tricks to impress you, but it's all in good fun and with the intention of making you smile and laugh.

Michelangelo's energy would be infectious, his excitement palpable as he showers you with compliments and playful teasing. He might give you an exaggerated wolf whistle or a playful wink, unable to contain his enthusiasm as he expresses his admiration for you.

If you were on a beach, Mikey would do anything with you, from building sandcastles, playing beach volley or sunbathe together. Were you in a pool or the sewers, he would ask you to share a floatie with him, giving him a playful excuse to be close to you.

Mikey would be constantly by your side, his arm draped around your shoulders as he peppers you with affectionate nicknames and playful banter, along with small kisses all over your face. He would even tickle you, unable to keep his hands off of you.

And as the day comes to an end, Mikey would pull you close for a tight hug, his enthusiasm undiminished as he expresses his love and gratitude, grateful for every moment he gets to spend with you.

And after a full day of having fun in the water, he would make sure to continue the fun and laughter he had shared with you, in the comfort of your bedroom.

[maruflix]

  — ★ 𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐀

☆ — “YOU MAKE ME THE HAPPIEST I’VE EVER BEEN.”

SYNOPSIS : Takiishi Chika’s love for you burns like a wildifre, unable to be tamed. After one too many bruises, you decide to run away, finding solace in Umemiya Hajime’s waiting arms. FEATURING : (Umemiya Hajime x f!reader) x Takiishi Chika CONTENT : 3.8k words, mentions of violence and physical abuse, toxic relationship but you got out of it, slight university!AU, hurt/comfort

You wanted a lover who took you to the edge. You found that in Takiishi Chika, whose love burns so bright and wild it consumes everything in its path. 

Now you’re stumbling down the road, tears streaking down your face, clutching a bruised wrist and struggling to breathe. You can still feel his hands around your throat and you reach out a hand to wipe at your neck, hissing when you accidentally brush against another injury.

“What happened to you?!” You realize just how out of it you are when you bump into a tall figure. When you look up, you’re met with a concerned Umemiya Hajime, his usually serene blue eyes now blown wide in panic.

You want to reply, but your words are caught in your throat. Somehow, he understands.

“Him again?” His voice comes out in a whisper, and you can only nod. He lets out a sigh, holding out both his arms to the sides. “Come here.”

And you collapse in his embrace, pressing your face on his chest to hide from the distress in his eyes as your tears start to pour faster. He holds you impossibly closer, consoling you with gentle shushes. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers against your hair, “I’ve got you.” 

It’s 1 AM and your phone beeps once. Turning over on your bed, you resist the urge to check it again. ‘It’s over’, you tell yourself.

The room is dark, but you can make out the outline of the box sitting quietly on your desk, filled to the brim with memories of when you were in love. Stacks of photographs of you and a golden-eyed boy with fiery red hair —  you are smiling in each and every one.

You close your eyes and your mind traitorously plays your favorite memory.

“Chika-kun! What would you do if I died?”

Chika blinked. “Are you dying?”

“No!” You gave him a pout. “This is just a hypothetical question!”

His eyes softened as he pulled you closer against him. “I will never let you die.”

“What if I die from old age?”

“Then I will die right after you.”

Your heart fluttered at his straightforward answer. It was just like him to say these kinds of things so casually. “Oh, what if I run away from you? What will you do?”

There’s a glint in his eye when he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss. “Then I will hunt you down.”

But it’s 1 AM, and Chika no longer floods your chat with missed calls and demands for you to pick up. It takes the same amount of time for the bruise on your wrist to fade for the quiet realization to finally dawn on you: It’s over.

Umemiya Hajime comes in like a tornado. He always did, and his sudden presence sends a gust of wind that makes your hair flow upwards when he stops in front of you.

“Hi, Umemiya-kun.”

When you look up from your magazine, Umemiya is already smiling. “Hi. I texted you last night, but you didn’t reply. I guess you’re already fixing your sleep schedule, huh?” Before you can reply with an apology for missing it, he leans over the counter and slides a big chocolate bar your way. It looks expensive from the way the packaging shines.

“What’s this?”

“I know you’ve been skipping lunch.” He admits sheepishly, “We’re all kinda worried. You’ve been nodding off during morning lectures too,” Suddenly he pauses, as if stopping himself from giving you his own lecture, “So anyway. I see you always carry something sweet with you, figured you’ve got a sweet tooth.”

Umemiya is as perceptive as always. When you raise your head to look at him again, you spot Kotoha grinning and giving you a thumbs up. You instinctively smile at her goofy face, and Umemiya beams right after you. “W-well! That’s all I wanted to give you! Um, I’ll get going now! Bye!” After stuttering like an idiot, the campus heartthrob speedwalks to the door, blushing to the tips of his ears. 

Kotoha is already in front of you, smirking. “Oh, come on! Give the poor boy a chance!”

You quickly snap your head to the entrance when the bell dings, signaling the arrival of the cafe’s next customer, and let out a sigh in relief when you see it isn’t him. You focus back on Kotoha’s worried face, and to ease her worries, you shrug. “I actually have plans to watch that new superhero movie with him next week.” You smile when Kotoha squeals in excitement.

You wonder why you didn’t say yes to his invitation sooner.

“You know that karaoke place near our old high school? When we went together — Sakura, Hiragi, and I — Sakura got so flustered after getting a 95 singing ‘Absolute zero’ that he tripped and broke the table!”

You laugh at your own imagination of Sakura, as clumsy and awkward as always. Umemiya preens, as if making you laugh is a huge achievement.

“We had to pay for it, you know? Sakura and me, we both forgot to bring our wallet, so Hiragi had to foot the bill. Don’t even ask me how many pills he swallowed that night.”

You snort and laugh again. Umemiya’s grin is wider now as he picks up a straw, opening up the wrapping and plopping the straw in your drink before turning it to face your way. The simple gesture is enough to make your heartbeat stutter as you quietly thank him.

“Anyway, our movie won’t start until 4. You wanna look at some clothes after this?” He tilts his head and rests his chin on one hand, smiling so tenderly it catches you off guard.

Chika hates it when I spend too much time wandering around the stores. You bite your lip as you start to feel sick again.

“Actually, I’m the one who wants to look at clothes. Is it okay if you accompany me?” Umemiya snaps you from your thoughts and you focus back on his smile again. There’s a pleading look in his eyes.

You’re reminded once more that you’re no longer in your past relationship. You smile at Umemiya, a genuine and contented smile. “Sure thing! I’d love to look around too.”

By the time the two of you walk into the movie theater, Umemiya’s hands are full of shopping bags and his face is painted with a satisfied smile even though the clothes in the bags are all yours.

When your phone flashes with the notification of a new message, your wallpaper is no longer a picture of a golden-eyed boy. Instead, it is a photo of you and Hajime, his white hair unstyled and falling carelessly in front of his gentle eyes as he gives the camera a wide grin. His arm is slinged around your shoulder, pulling you close as you beam up to the camera next to him.

You pick it up from the counter and smile.

Don’t forget to eat!! (,,>﹏<,,) Or I will feed you myself (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

You never skip your meals now, no longer needing to starve yourself to forget about the pain of your last relationship, yet Hajime still takes his time to message you everyday with small reminders. You type back.

Is that a threat or a promise? (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

“Ah!” Kotoha’s yelp almost sends your phone flying from your hands. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to peek, but the emojis are so cute!”

“It’s fine.” Putting your phone on the table, it flashes again with a new notification. This time Kotoha openly ogles your lock screen, squealing.

“Oh my, you guys are totally dating!”

You merely smile, but your heart wonders when he will finally ask you out.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Your eyes flicker from side to side, trying to find a way out from the situation you’re currently in.

A dark alleyway. You, with your back to the wall. Takiishi Chika on the opposite side of the alley, calmly walking towards you with fire in his eyes. He’s smiling.

You can tell that this is not going to go well. By the time you stop panicking to assess the current situation, Chika is already gripping your wrist. The same one he bruised two months ago.

“L-let go, Chi— Takiishi.” Eyes fixed on the ground, you make an attempt to wrench it away but he stubbornly holds it in place.

“I’m Takiishi to you now, huh?” There is seething anger behind his words, you can tell. “You look well. Have you forgotten about me while you strut around town with your new boyfriend?” He sneers again, the icy undercurrents in his tone sending shivers down your spine.

When you say nothing, his grip on your wrist tightens and you pray to whatever god is out there that it won’t leave a mark. You don’t want to make Hajime worry again. But deep down you know that he probably intends to leave a bruise. 

Takiishi may seem like an airhead, but he does things so calculatedly. Every torture he inflicts upon you is measured and deliberate. He does things covertly, gradually cranking up the level. He grips you tighter and tighter, until he finally lets his hands make their way around your neck. Suddenly the ember in his eyes blazes into a scorching wildfire as he chokes you until you cry and beg for him to stop. No amount of kisses he plants on your bruises the next day is enough to make you stay.

“I said, let go.” You evenly meet his gaze. “Hajime-kun is waiting for me.”

Takiishi reels back in anger, but before he can show you just how furious he is with you, a hand grips his arm roughly and forces him to release his grip on you.

“Is something the matter?” Hajime’s voice is calm and steady, but you can sense the fury stirring in him as he towers above Takiishi, eyes burning in a way you’ve never seen before.

Takiishi is a man of few words. He immediately swings, but Hajime throws his hands up just in time to block the blow. To your surprise, Hajime sends a punch back, and even though Takiishi manages to block it from connecting with his chest, the force of the strike pushes him backwards. He catches himself before he can stumble down, but Hajime is relentless as he aims a kick at his head. Then another. And another.

This time Takiishi is forced to take several steps back, glaring at him, and at you. Hajime takes the opportunity to quickly wrap an arm around you as he guides you away, his eyes never leaving his opponent. 

Takiishi stands in the darkness as he watches you both disappear.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made you wait so long.” Hajime doesn’t comment when you rest your head against his chest, your eyes closing with the ambient glow of knowing you are safe. Instead, he envelops you in a warm embrace, holding you close enough for you to feel his heartbeat as he lets out a relieved sigh. “I’ve got you.”

Perhaps it is the tenderness in his voice, the silent and unyielding promise to protect you, or the way his strong arms hold you so steadily— you couldn’t really tell, but you finally let yourself cry. He holds you gently, caressing your head in slow and calming strokes, silently waiting until your body stops shaking and your sobs die down.

The adrenaline finally fades away and you feel yourself breathing again. “What were you doing anyway?” You murmur against his chest. When Hajime places his chin on top of your head and hums, you can feel your body weakening.

“I was getting flowers.” He admits, “I, uh.. I don’t know if this is the right time but…” He steels himself before grabbing your face, holding you beneath your ears with shaky hands, “I love you.”

Your eyes widen at his sudden confession, heartbeat quickening at the way Hajime stares at you; cautious, hesitant, and heart wrenchingly tender, like he’s trying to figure you out.

He looks away, flustered, eyes drooping down like he’s preparing himself for a rejection. “Is.. is that okay? I know you just got out of a bad relationship, I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want. If you’re uncomfortable, you can just pretend I never said any-”

You shut him up by crashing your lips on his. The world seems to slow its spin as Hajime returns the kiss, his hands threading in your hair before lazily dropping down to graze the nape of your neck and finally settling on the small of your back. He chuckles against your lips, a deep rumble that sends delightful shivers down your spine.

Eventually, he pulls back. His eyes are as tender as always as he gazes down at you, the fondness so thick and heavy you feel like it’s going to swallow you whole. Hajime’s fingers brush against the side of your cheek and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. You thought that his affection for you is cute and endearing at best, but you discover that you have yet to feel the full force of it.

“So is this your way of saying yes?” He’s giving you that boyish grin again, and you bury your face in his broad chest, the smell of his cologne and his warmth enveloping you like a cocoon.

“Yeah. I love you too, Hajime.”

“I… I think you should see this.”

You know something is up when Kotoha nervously hands you her phone. Glancing down at it, you find that it is an instagram post of Takiishi, sprawled across the couch with an unfamiliar girl sitting next to him. Endo, the one who posted the photo, is standing behind him, leaning over with one arm to strike a pose for the camera. As usual, the comment section of Endo’s posts are filled with equally popular kids. The top comment read:

randomguy001 Oh? Did Takiishi break up with his girlfriend? She’s so pretty, too…

Takiishi’s reply makes your heart drop to your stomach.

tkiishi You should ask Umemiya Hajime.

It is followed by another reply, this time from Endo.

end.0 LOLOLOLOL

You hand Kotoha back her phone, a small smile on your lips. You’re disappointed but not surprised— Takiishi Chika is a force to be reckoned with, you know that all too well. He loves things fiercely, like a wildfire that consumes everything, leaving nothing in its wake. You’re so nervous to be around him, like dancing around the sharp edge of a knife and hoping that it won’t strike you, forgetting just how vicious he truly is when he makes you feel special by treating you a little bit better than how he treats others.

And yet, in spite of how deeply he is rooted in you, he never treats you kindly.

You rub your wrist mindlessly as your mind wanders to the five times he strikes you to the point of leaving bruises, and the one time you fight back. The battle scar has faded away, but not from your mind. You can still remember the heaviness of his blows as they connect with the spots you know you can hide underneath your shirt. He’s so careful about leaving marks on your body. 

Your train of thoughts is broken when your own phone beeps. You open it, already smiling at the sight of your new wallpaper: you and Hajime standing in front of a huge aquarium, his hands wrapped around your waist while you make a peace sign, smiling so happily that your eyes turn into slits. But unlike you, Hajime’s eyes are not looking at the camera. It is looking at you, smiling down like he’s got the entire world in his arms.

I’m almost there!! Let’s eat ramen today, I’m STARVING ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و 

Just like that, you can breathe again. Your smile relaxes as you type a reply, giggling to yourself at Hajime’s excessive use of cutesy emojis.

Kotoha watches you silently, a relieved smile on her lips. This is not like the last time you said it was over but asking to stay at her place in fear of Takiishi coming over unannounced. Not like when you said it was over but you have another bruise on your wrist, making Hajime panic to the point of almost crying.

This time, you’re unaffected by your ex’s desperate pleas for attention. This time, you’re glowing with joy, bathed in the love Hajime showers you with. This time, it’s truly over.

Takiishi never comes to campus events.

So you’re standing in shock when you spot him amongst the crowd, his black attire contrasting the colorful sea of people. He spots you too and starts to make his way to you, his hands balled into fists on the sides of his torso.

He’s standing in front of you now, but this time you’re the one who’s smiling. “Here to sign up for the…” you check your clipboard, “World War II discussion? Damn, never took you for a history geek.”

Takiishi growls. “Come with me.”

“Oh? Where? Am I invited too?” A long arm snakes around your waist and you smile up to see your boyfriend, grinning at you handsomely. Hajime’s white hair is swept back as he runs a hand through it to fix the loose strands that frames his face. Standing at the full height of 6'2, he makes sure to stand a little straighter so he can purposefully look down at Takiishi. Behind him, his little student body clique follows closely: Sakura Haruka, Suo Hayato, Kaji Ren, Tsubakino Tasuku, and Hiragi Toma who’s lagging a little bit behind all of them as he’s gulping down stomach medicine.

Takiishi is a short-tempered person, but he’s not stupid. He knows that nothing good will come out of fighting with the student body president in the middle of the campus hall, so he simply glares at him before turning away.

“It’s like you have a demon following you.” Once Takiishi is out of earshot, Hajime complains, folding his arms in front of his chest.

“How are we still beefing with them even in university…?” Hiragi appears, face gaunt from stress.

You giggle. “Luckily I have all of you to protect me.”

Hajime leans down to kiss your cheek and his friends groan. “Anytime, baby. Now let’s go have lunch. The event will start soon and when it does we have to stand around until night.”

Soon, all traces of Takiishi is erased from your mind as you walk with your friends, laughing hard enough to make a few heads turn as Hajime’s hands intertwines with your own.

The next time you and Takiishi meet, you have no idea. 

You’re too busy looking up at the skies as fireworks boomed around you, your own cheers drowned out by the crowd. You shyly glance at Hajime who is dressed handsomely in a gray yukata, only to find that he’s already gazing at you. He mouths an ‘I love you’, squeezing your hand as his lips stretches to form a smile.

Takiishi watches from a distance, his feet rooted to the ground. “You wanted a lover who took you to the edge,” he thought bitterly, “Was it not me who gave you that?” He wants so desperately to march straight to you, to beat up Umemiya Hajime so badly that he sees stars, and drag you with him to the place where you belong— right by his side, but he grows uncertain of his own thoughts when he sees your head thrown back in laughter, body inching closer to Umemiya. Endo is quiet next to him, but he can feel his worried stare. He hates it when people do that, he hates to be pitied.

Then you catch sight of him, and his breath hitches in his throat. His hands move forward, but his freezing body betrays him. “Hey.” He wants to say, “You look happy.” he opens his mouth, but no words come forward.

“Hi.” You want to say out of politeness, but Hajime places a finger on your chin, lifting it up gently as his lips find yours, stealing every thought from your body. It’s like all the sounds are silenced and time is suspended when he pulls away, giving you a playful smile when he sees that your eyes are still squeezed shut, cheeks dusted in a blush. “Oh? Guess I’ve successfully charmed you.” He murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours.

When your eyes flutter open, Takiishi is already gone. In front of you, you can only see Hajime, standing proud and tall, basking in the warmth of your affection. You reach out a hand to caress his hair, and he leans into your touch, humming. “I love you, Hajime.” With that, his eyes widen, but you’re not done. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Hajime laughs. Another firework booms in the distance. “Then I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Your heart rises in a crescendo, but before you can kiss him again, your phone beeps. Your eyes bulge from its sockets as you raise it up to show him the message.

I’m sorry.

You’re wondering why Hajime immediately burst out laughing, only realizing that you haven’t changed his ID.

‘Chikasshole (⚠️ DON’T REPLY!)’ is written in bold letters on top of the surprising apology text, and you find your own lips curling up. Soon, the both of you are laughing together at the absurdity of it all, at how small your problems seemed to be now.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” Hiragi appears with takoyaki. Behind him, Sakura and Sugishita are busy bickering. “Kaji and the others found a good viewing spot, let’s go before others find it too.”

You smile as Hajime clasps his hand with yours. “Okay!” At your agreement, Hiragi turns away, getting distracted by the two bickering children as the three of them walk off. “Well, let’s go.” You beam up at Hajime, who chuckles and gestures with his arm for you to start walking.

It feels perfect; you and Hajime, set against a soaring night sky as the fireworks blaze up ahead. You feel your wings unfolding behind you. Taking one more look at Hajime, he looks at you the same way he always does — like he is bedazzled. 

You take a step forward and take flight.

TE MATA is an entry for Amor’s ORQUÍDEAS EVENT: Knowing your worth is the first step towards self-love. After escaping a toxic relationship you find the love of your life. However, you also find yourself being depicted as a devil by your ex. It's time to embrace the role of devil, because he will never be able to cut off your wings, and that kills him.

My love, thank you for letting me participate! Hurt/comfort holds a special place in my heart and I really enjoyed writing this ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

TAGLIST: @kaiser1ns , @17020 , @stunie

[clawsdevour]

*.#kuroo bf hcs

wc: 0.2k content warning: fluff, slight smut, aged up, post-time skip, my booty writing

note: I KINDA JS MADE THIS ACC AND WROTE THIS CUZ ITS LIK 12:51 IN THE MORNING AND IM SPIRALING RN SORRY IF THERES GRAMMAR AND SPELLING MISTAKES (pls support me on my writing journey and i hope i dont catch the author curse) thank you if u read this post <33

*✧･ﾟ.🐈‍⬛

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend to tease you and be playful around you while showing you how affectionate he is towards you

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend to love hugs and cuddling and overall physical touch

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend to frequently call you when he’s away for work He’d also buy you gifts and souvenirs that remind him of you

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend to take care of you and stay by your side when you’re sick. He’d know what to give you that’ll make you feel better even if it’s just a hug

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend that you’d fall asleep on call with because his presence makes you feel safe

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend that would instantly get your parents to love him when they first meet

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend to have you breathing hot pants into his neck as you claw your nails into his broad back

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend to have you completely in a mating press to reach deeper into you, watching your reactions as he dives deeper into each thrust

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend to give you the best after care. He always gets up to clean you up and gives you kisses and cuddles before sleeping.

-Kuroo, the type of boyfriend to smirk seeing how you’re unable to walk the next morning, covered in his marks.

masterlist here

[crowtwink]

I am So Normal about this line. His later line about how he never asked to be human is good too but this right here...

Just... the way that Monty and Esther's relationship subtly reinforces the themes about abuse that the rest of the show explores.

The rest of the characters are dealing with healing from the various traumas of past abuse and trying not to continue the cycles they were hurt by but Monty? Monty is trapped in his abuse right now.

And the way that it's shown...

I saw someone point out that his cage is WAY too small for a bird of his size and that's 100% correct and 100% demonstrates that Esther is a shitty person but the thing about the cage that interests me the most isn't it's unsuitability.

It's the fact that the cage is never locked. Most of the time, the door isn't even closed. There's nothing physically stopping Monty from just skipping town. He doesn't seem to particularly like Esther - even at the start - and he's not subtle about it. We never see any indication that she has any magic keeping him bound to her. (It's not unreasonable to assume that she does, sure, but she's never once shown to use it and that's a narrative choice. The one time she threatens him for overstepping, it's physical.)

Even after he's shown hesitation in following through on her plan, even after they have their big fight, even after she remakes him against his will for the second time, we still see him return to that cage. And the cage remains unlocked, because Esther remains confident in her hold over him.

Because that's the thing about staying with your abuser. It's often not about being physically unable to leave the situation. Esther doesn't keep Monty trapped by locking him up. If she did, all he would have to do would be leave the cage to be free. The hold she has on him is much deeper and much harder to escape.

But not impossible.

It's a little betrayal, in the grand scheme of things, but he does finally act against her directly.

Thematically, it makes perfect sense to me that it's Charles who finally pushes him to rebel. Charles, who promised way back in episode one to befriend him. Charles, who knows exactly what it's like to be trapped by an abusive parent. Charles, who so desperately wants people in circumstances similar to his own be in the right so he can prove to himself that he isn't destined to turn out like his dad.

It's no surprise that Charles' immediate reaction to Monty's little act of rebellion is delight.

I really hope we'll see more of Monty in a season two. But even if we don't, I know he's going to be okay.

He's finally escaped.

[ruth-odyssey]

༺✩༻ D is for Delightful (part 2)

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

wc. 1.9k words

summary: after pairing up with a slytherin for a potion project, you somehow find yourself unable to tear away from him  

tw. fem!reader, reader is implied to be a gryffindor, party, mention of minors drinking. Set in sixth year but everyone is 17

a/n. This is part 2 of D is for Dangerous. Mattheo is actually so hot I had to physically stop myself from turning this into smut 😔

Quidditch season has its way of bringing students of the same house together. No matter your opinion on your fellow housemates, quidditch is quidditch. Heading down to the great Hall for breakfast, you can feel the excitement of the first match of the season; Ravenclaw against Slytherin. You sit down at the Gryffindor table, serving yourself some porridge, fruits and a cup of coffee. As you start eating, you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You turn around, meet with Mattheo, smirking at you. “We’re hosting a party tonight after the match, wanna come?” You knit your brows. “Already planning a party? You didn't even win yet!??” Mattheo flashes you a confident smile. “Winning is guaranteed, Ravenclaw’s team isn't winning anytime soon.” You snort, teasing him. “Nah yall gonna lose.”

Mattheo gasps dramatically at your response, clutching his heart, pretending to be under some sort of great physical pain. “How dare you. Do you have no faith in me???” you laugh at his dramatic antics. “Are they even gonna let you play? You skipped detention the whole week.” Mattheo grins slyly at you, as if you had asked an absurd question. “Of course they’ll let me play, I'm the best chaser we’ve got” He says cockily, earning himself a glare from Blaise. “Besides, I’ve already got out of those detentions with a little help from Theo, no need to worry.” You roll your eyes, serving yourself another cup of coffee. “Please don't bring Theo into your shit…” You look around, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy. “Theo isn't even here, is he still asleep???” Draco pipes up. “He's up, probably still under the shower.” You nod. “Well you better catch the snitch quickly, it's cold as shit outside.” Draco rolls his eyes at your comment and scoffs. “Don't tell me what to do, I'll catch it at my own pace.” You sigh, already regretting not bringing something hotter against the cold November weather. Before anyone can add anything, Theodore arrives, greeting everyone with a nod. “Well well well, look who decided to join us…” At Theo’s arrival, you decide to take your plate and cup, sitting down at the Slytherin table. Blaise smiles, knocking your shoulder with his. “Finally decided to join us huh?” You salute him. “Yes sir.” He lets out a soft chuckle, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. You glance to your right, Theo still standing up, still half asleep. You pat the spot next to you. “Sit down and eat. You have 10 minutes before you guys have to leave.” Theo’s eyes meet yours, he nods and takes the stop next to you, you serve him a cup of coffee and Lorenzo starts piling up food on his plate. Theo blinks a couple of times, trying to chase the fatigue. “How are you so… hyper this morning?” His voice is still laced with sleep, deeper than usual. You smile, hoping he can't tell how his voice alone is affecting you. “This is actually my fourth cup of coffee.” Theo shakes his head, mumbling Oh dio under his breath. He takes a bite of food. “If we win, will you come to the party?” Mattheo sends him a look “You mean WHEN we win.” You smile and glance at Mattheo who's already looking at you.

The next few minutes are spent by Draco, Mattheo and Blaise discussing the best way to beat ravenclaw – in the most humiliating way possible – Theo nodding along, playing with the food on his plate. They leave in a hurry to get changed in their quidditch robes. Lorenzo gets up and starts heading to the quidditch area, you and Pansy following. The three of you head out of the school, the freezing November breeze making you shiver. Tucking your face into your scarf you decide now is the perfect time to talk. “I am NOT lasting ‘til the end of the year, Riddle is gonna be the death of me.” Pansy laughs, as if she was expecting you to bring up Mattheo, Lorenzo on the other hand looks concerned considering how much you ramble about him. “May I ask why Riddle out of all people is gonna be the death of you?” He inquired, his voice tinged with playful judgment. You flash him an apologetic smile and start gushing about Mattheo. “Did you see how he looked at me earlier??? I thought I was gonna have a heart attack.” Pansy grabs your arm, a delighted laugh escaping her lips, as Lorenzo gives you a weirded out look – he's not quite sure what you mean by that. 

—————————————

The match finally came to an end, Slytherin completely obliterating Ravenclaw with a whooping 250 to 50. You meet up with the rest of the group in the Great Hall for lunch. “Mattheo that goal was something else, I mean throwing the quaffle all the way from the Slytherin goalpost and scoring? It was amazing.” Blaise nods in agreement, headlocking Mattheo, ruffling his hair. “You were insane out there mate, I didn't expect you to score like that.” Mattheo finally getting out of Blaise’s tight grip, he smirks at you. “Told ya we were gonna win. Now you better come to the party angel” You roll your eyes trying to ignore how your stomach seems to be doing cartwheels because of a simple pet name. Pansy smiles. “Bring your dress so you can get ready in my room.” “Okay!”

—————————————

“You look great.” You make eye contact with Pansy through the bathroom mirror, adding some mascara to your lower lashes. You’re wearing a black slip dress, with black high knee boots and your hair is down. You smile. “Thanks Pans, I love your dress by the way. It's so cute!” Pansy smiles, crouching down to put on her heels. You let out a yawn, feeling the lack of sleep of last night – as well as the caffeine crash – getting to you. You set the mascara tube down, giving yourself one last once over, before heading into the Slytherin common room with Pansy. As you both get down to the common room, pansy whispers “Go get your man.” in your ear. The party is in full swing, music blaring and people drinking and dancing everywhere. The room is dimly lit with Slytherin color, the atmosphere lively and electric. In the sea of partying students, you spot Mattheo, cigarette in one hand, drink in the other. He spots you too, greeting you with a hug. “Hey, nice dress” He speaks loudly, trying to make himself heard over the loud music. He hands you a drink. “Thanks! Pansy kinda left me. Do you know where she went?” Mattheo looks around, trying to find her. He taps your shoulder, giving you a shrug. “I can't see her sorry angel.” He pauses, taking a hit of his cigarette, blowing the smoke into rings. He smirks, eyes roaming around your body. “Seems like you’re stuck with me sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, unable to meet his – suddenly finding the content of the drink he had handed you interesting. You glance at him

You take a sip of your drink, face scrunching at the taste of alcohol burning your throat. You turn back to look at Mattheo, only to find him already looking at you. It's not the way he usually looks at you, with mischief because saying or doing something that would get him in trouble, there’s something different in those eyes and it seems whatever changed somehow makes you even more drawn to him. You can already feel your body loosening up, the alcohol making its way in your system. You grab the half burned cigarette from his grasp, taking a hit. There's a hint of surprise in Mattheo’s expression, that's quickly replaced by delight and something else you can't quite place your finger on. 

—————————————

You are not God's strongest soldier. Three drinks in and you somehow found yourself resting your head on Mattheo’s chest, arms around his waist, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other holding onto his – technically yours since he stole it – drink. The scent of his cologne – a citrus and musky scent– filling your nostrils. The party is still raging, people everywhere and it doesn't seem to stop anything soon. Mattheo gently whispers in your ear. “Hey sweetheart can't have you falling asleep on me, why don't you call it a night huh?” – you can practically see the small smirk that must be forming on his face – You distance yourself from him, just enough to see his face. His eyes find yours and he smiles. It's a smile you could get used to seeing – it's sweet and it makes you believe you might actually have a change with the boy – you nod, silently agreeing to call if for today. “Mkay… I'll go to sleep.” Maybe it was because of the smile he’d flashed or maybe it had only to do with the alcohol you had, but you get on your tiptoes, kissing him goodnight. “I think you missed darling, you must be very drunk if you don't know where my lips are” Its harmless teasing really, usually a simple eye roll to brush it off would have done the trick. But today, you decide that yes, maybe you should kiss him if it means he’ll finally realize you’d like to be the only one he flirts with, the only one he kisses. And so you roll your eyes, “You’re so demanding Riddle, you’re lucky I love you.” and kiss him. It’s sweet, you can taste the lingering taste of the alcohol on his lips. He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, his lips moving against yours and you're suddenly aware of what you're doing. You break the kiss and mumble a quick “good night” before heading upstairs, crashing in Pansy’s room

—————————————

Drinking was not a good idea. At all. Whatever was in the drinks, it was strong, strong enough that you find yourself waking up the next morning having absolutely no recollection of why you were not in your bed. You can tell Pansy is in bed with you by the steady sound of breathing behind you. You try getting up an arm wrapping around your waist, someone snuggling into you. You freeze, turning your head slightly – to your surprise Mattheo is behind you, seemingly still asleep. “Hm Mattheo? Wake up.” You try shaking him awake. He makes a noise between a groan and moan but he opens his eyes, taking you in. “what?” You look at him bewildered, wondering how he could be so calm. “What??? What do you mean ‘what’??? The hell are you doing in Pansy’s room and why are you sleeping next to me???” Now it’s Mattheo’s turn to look confused. “Hey hey hey, calm down princess, I'll have you know last night you crashed in MY room, and i need my beauty sleep so I slept on my bed. I was sure you wouldn't mind… you know since you love me.” he adds teasingly. Oh the bastard. You can already feel your cheeks flustered and unfortunately for you, the memories of last night are finally becoming clearer. And you can clearly remember not only telling him you loved him but the feel of his lips against yours. You blink trying to chase the memory from your mind. “I- ok maybe I do. But so what?” He smiles as if he knew you would say something like that. “I was thinking about asking you out so that we could share our first kiss more… romantic setting but looks like you beat me to it angel.” “Oh shut up Riddle.” He smirks. “So, can I be your boyfriend?” “Yes”

[anantaru]

a/n. ✩ ˛˚ . i am currently sick and wanted to write something sweet, enjoy my loves while I'm drowning myself in hot lemon water, gn! reader

neuvillette likes to buy you flowers.

he doesn't necessarily have a favorite type of flower that he likes to purchase for you, because to him, it's the plant itself that reminded him of you.

for one, when he looks outside the window to catch the neat, sprouting garden outside your home, the sun rays shimmer gently along the various petals, rainbow roses stretching and slowly opening its eyes to the soft tickle of warmth.

to neuvillette, it felt the same as when he hears your voice whisper a honey-like "good morning" first thing during sunrise, and he wishes he could explain to you just how much the sound of your voice gave him butterflies and hope.

one part of him was on fire when you begin to smile as you realize he had bought you a bouquet full of blossoming lumidouce bells again.

to neuvillette, your grateful smile was resembling a warm gesture that was widely manifested in a garden scented with the fragrance of nectarous flowers, various plants going crazy when they receive the warm affection of the sun.

now, the man was calm and peaceful knowing that you liked them and that when he wasn't here with you, there was at least something that would always remind you of him.

you move towards him, slanting close, settling on his lap, and it makes his heart skip a beat when you leisurely wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into a quick kiss— because you see, every time he connects with you physically, neuvillette felt like you were a piece of him that had been missing perpetually.

neuvillette moves his tongue gently until you forget yourself into his trace, savoring the moment as he runs a finger along your thigh. you shift your hips a little to move closer, a wave of felicity shielding your bodies before the man decides to break the kiss as to catch his breath.

restraining his bliss for a moment, the iudex reminds himself that work had been awaiting him.

he takes your hand and squeezes it gently, "i assume you like the flowers?" as he questions lightly, even though he fully knew the answer to his own questioning— yet his mellow voice was so full of passion like it was attempting to burst his lungs, unable to exclaim the deep gratitude he felt.

you snicker back, quite absorbed in watching him blush vividly after one kiss, "you ask if i like them? i love each and every one of them," you continue, sounding sweet to his ears, "thank you, i will take care of them while you're gone,"

your gentle lips pass a smile, and you admire his eyes, see and notice how they had been cosseting your own.

this love, it wasn't like one you had encountered in the past— because the one you shared with neuvillette was an union of souls and hearts and minds, not something you could put under a microscope and understand immediately, because simply put, it was too complex for that, strong and unbreakable.

pure love, like a liquid which descends from the clouds in rain with your body feeling different— bouncier, more energetic.

feeling happy.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[joy-laufeyson]

Bakugo Katsuki fic recommendations

(Reader inserts) Recommendations of my favorite headcanons/imagines/fics/scenarios (I don’t own any)

・・・・・・

@ a11eya's masterlist

@ adoringmha's masterlist

@ andypantsx's masterlist

@ angelshimaa's masterlist

@ bkgml's masterlist

@ cinnamonreccs' masterlist

@ moominsuki's masterlist

・・・・・・

fluff / fever talk

sfw / the jealousy type

sfw / lucid dreaming

fluff / freckles

sfw / number neighbor (smau, masterlist)

sfw / “shut up and heal me”

fluff / apologizing

fluff / be my (fake) girlfriend

angst fluff / mean it

sfw fluff / truth or dare

fluff / falling in love with you

fluff / he hasn’t told his friends about you

angst fluff / petting his hair

fluff/ you fell asleep on him

fluff / helping him with his tie

nsfw ish / lends you a shirt

angst fluff / seeing you cry

angst fluff / he wakes up

fluff / childhood sweethearts

time-skip (aged up)

sfw / drunk-dazed

fluff / as the sun goes down

fluff / permanent ink

angst fluff / kiss me!

fluff / runaway party

fluff nsfw / birthday

fluff / valentines day (part 1, part 2)

fluff / ...but I don't like a gold rush

angst fluff / “do you think i’m a good person?”

fluff / Hero Awards

sfw / going to bed upset

fluff / most beautiful woman

fluff / late night confessions

fluff / anyone would be silly not to love you

angst fluff / tears

fluff / interviews (masterlist)

fluff / skincare

fluff / he only likes real kisses

fluff / hot cocoa

fluff / scars

fluff / 4:29

fluff / secret santa

angst fluff / you remind him that he is a person

fluff / baby

fluff / "go back to sleep"

fluff / a lot better now

fluff / can’t sleep until you’re home

fluff / the stages of me and you

sfw / you get dumped twenty seconds before meeting your boss

angst fluff / emotionally constipated

fluff/ he doesn't want to go

fluff / eating your leftovers

sfw / drunk

angst fluff / when you have a bad day

nsfw ish / victoria secret set

nsfw ish / nails

angst fluff / charred dreams

fluff / au beauty mark

angst fluff / stay

fluff / physically unable to find you unattractive

sfw / "that's my wife"

sfw / it's you

sfw / cologne

sfw / don't let your guard down

fluff / denying him a kiss

fluff / worried about you

・・・・・・

Updated:03-August-2024

Other BNHA fics

♡Spotify playlist♡

[emmyrosee]

For Halloween, I want kiyoomi dressed as Gomez Addams. Slightly suggestive, minors pls skip this one 🩷

——

“This is stupid.”

His voice is bored and tired, unable to bring the courage to even pretend to be excited for what’s about to happen.

For this years charity event, the boys have decided to dress up in costumes for the last week of halloween, sending pictures of their costumes to anyone who donates to their cause; signed pictures if someone donates more than the standard.

Kiyoomi loves charity. He hates dressing up in group costumes for Halloween. Last year, the only one he tolerated was Pokémon, because it was just a onesie he could take home for you to wear.

This year, they’re characters from classic halloween movies. Kiyoomi stood firm on only being Gomez, and Hinata agreed to dress up as Morticia.

You chuckle as you pop another chip in your mouth, “it’s one night, baby. You can do it! Besides, it’s for charity.”

“I shouldn’t have to sell my face for charity,” he argues. “People should just donate.”

“A little incentive never hurt anyone.” You close your book and make your way into the bathroom, where your boyfriend cusses out the mustache in the kit. “It’ll be fun; you can live for three…. Hours…”

Your voice trails as you look at him, his tall frame fitting the striped suit deliciously. His hair is slicked back slightly, saved for a small fringe of curls that curtain his left, dark eye.

The part you focus the most on, however, is the mustache your man is wearing, settles on the skin naturally. It looks so real, so blended on his milky skin, covering his upper lip snugly.

He looks exactly like the part he’s playing.

And he looks good doing it.

“Are… you good?” He asks, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “Quit staring at me.”

“You look so hot.”

“Pardon?”

You stride into the bathroom to be next to him, fingers wrapping around the tie and gently pulling him close; his breath catches slightly at your surprising reaction. “You. Look. Hot.”

“Physically or emotionally?”

“Oh my god,” you snicker. You raise up on your tip toes to plant a kiss to his lips, the fake mustache tickling your lip slightly. “Have fun tonight, okay?” You ask, slowly parting from him with a smile.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Then, you sink your teeth in your lip, “and keep the costume on when you get back.”

He smirks, “I’ll do what I can.”

[edenesth]

The Duke's Weakness

Pairing: duke!Yunho x dancer!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

"May I have the pleasure of this dance, my lady?"

Your eyes widened when you turned around to see none other than Duke Jung Yunho, the second most eligible bachelor in Wonderland after the recently engaged crown prince.

In surprise, you quickly curtsied and replied, "But sire, you mustn't. I'm no lady—"

It was against the rules for you to dance with any lords or noblemen at the ball. After all, you were simply a hired dancer meant to entertain at such grand events.

Yunho, undeterred, smiled cheekily as he extended his hand, waiting patiently, "Not a lady, you say? You do possess the anatomy of one, though, don't you?"

Blushing, you stammered, "W-well, of course, I do, my lord. But that's not what I meant—"

Amused by your flustered response, the duke gestured towards his outstretched hand, "Then please, my lady, I wish to dance with you. Unless you refuse, I will respect your decision."

In a panicked state, you shook your head and quickly placed your hand in his, "N-no! It would be an honour, my lord."

You couldn't ignore the watchful gazes fixed upon the two of you as Yunho gracefully led you into his embrace, twirling you around the grand hall. Sensing the scrutiny, you squirmed slightly, acutely aware of the potential controversy surrounding a man of his status dancing with a peasant like yourself.

"Hey, look at me. Only me. Don't mind them; none of these people matter as long as I'm here," His reassuring words made your heart skip a beat, and you responded with a breathless, "Yes, my lord."

His words had a magical effect, diverting your attention from the envious glares of women and the judgemental stares of men.

As you locked eyes with his gentle gaze, you wondered why people labelled him as the strict and cold-hearted Duke. Yunho inherited his father's title at a young age, and he hasn't been the same ever since. Ruling with an iron fist, he defied societal expectations by refusing to marry despite the persistent stream of candidates presented to him each year.

His reputation preceded him, and your knowledge of him was limited to what most people knew. You've encountered him multiple times at events, you as the performer and him as a distinguished guest.

Tonight, however, he played the role of the ball's host, an attempt orchestrated by his mother to find him a suitable bride. But he remained steadfast in his defiance, his attention solely fixed on his favourite dancer who had captured his interest at every ball and ceremony—you.

In truth, Yunho's struggle with his identity began in earnest after his father's passing, burdening him with responsibilities far too heavy for a child. Forced into the role of a duke, he became little more than a puppet, dutifully following his mother's directives.

Beneath his seemingly detached exterior simmered a reservoir of anger, a lamentation for the childhood he had lost. Deprived of a voice in his younger years, his subsequent decisions reflected a rebellion against his constrained past, resulting in a ruling style that was borderline tyrannical.

For the longest time, he had lost hope and found it difficult to see the beauty in life. But everything changed when he first laid eyes on you. Beyond your physical beauty, the genuine joy radiating from your eyes as you indulged in your passion for dancing captivated him. He saw something ethereal and was determined to shield the childlike innocence that still sparkled in your gaze from potential harm.

Contrary to popular belief, the duke had a weakness that surfaced consistently in the presence of a mere dancer at every event. Tired of his mother's incessant prodding, he had decided to marry as she wished. But he had a very different plan in mind: he would not be choosing from the noblewomen invited to the ball.

Unable to contain the questions swirling in your mind, you mustered the courage to speak, "My lord, if I may ask a question," He nodded, "Please, just Yunho will do."

Your eyes widened at the informality, "But, my lord—" The duke gently silenced you with a finger pressed to your lips, "No 'buts.' Now, ask away."

Taking a deep breath, you cleared your throat before voicing your inquiry, "Y-Yunho, sire, you must be aware that I'm not a noblewoman of any sort, yes? Why would you want to dance with someone as humble as myself? Wouldn't this affect your reputation?"

He flashed a mischievous grin, tightening his hold on your waist and pulling you closer, your foreheads now touching, "My lady, I won't allow you to belittle yourself like that. Let it be known that I've been admiring you since your very first performance."

Your cheeks flushed at the realisation that he had been watching you from the start, "And now, I find myself admiring you even more for the genuine concern about my reputation. I could use a wife like you."

The final sentence nearly caused your heart to stop, halting your feet and leaving the two of you at the centre of the dance floor, all eyes focused on you, "This isn't funny, Yunho. You shouldn't joke about such matters—"

His hand gently cupped your cheek, interrupting your protest, "I am not joking, my lady. If I were to propose right now, would you agree to be my bride?" Despite your initial disbelief, the vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes persuaded you that he was indeed serious.

Anxiety etched his features as you remained silent; his thumb soothingly stroked your cheek, "I know you're scared and confused, but I swear on my life, I will make you happy. So, tell me, my dear, would you be mine?" Unable to trust your voice, you simply nodded, prompting an instant, wide smile to grace his face.

At that moment, he caught the familiar sound of his mother's approaching footsteps, storming over to intervene, "Yunho, my son—" With a sly smirk, he gracefully dropped to one knee in front of you, drawing gasps from the surrounding onlookers, "My lady, would you allow this duke the honour of being your husband?"

This dramatic gesture served a dual purpose: demanding respect for you as his chosen one and signalling his defiance to his mother and everyone else present.

Feeling the intensity of the penetrating glares, you hesitated momentarily, but the gentle squeeze of your hand reassured you. With a firm nod, you affirmed, "Yes, my lord. I'd be delighted to have you."

Without hesitation, he swiftly pulled you into his arms, his words a whispered promise in your ear, "I'm well aware that my reputation may not be the best, but I will be good to you, my duchess. You have my word." Your heart melted at the sincerity behind those words, and he sealed the deal with a kiss on your lips.

By the end of the night, you would come to realise that your trust in him was well-founded. In only a brief span, this man has shown you more respect than anyone ever had throughout your entire life.

It became abundantly clear that any woman thinking they stood a chance with Yunho was sorely mistaken, for the duke only has eyes for you—his one and only weakness.

Y'all, Wooyoung was initially meant to be the duke. But the more I looked at that photo of Yunho, it was almost like he was telling me this role belonged to him lmao.

Thank you for reading and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

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