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ohbo-ohno · 2 years ago

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Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring.

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances.

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees.

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm.

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove.

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs.

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench.

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!”

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips.

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses.

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier.

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you.

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours.

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in.

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely.

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner.

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth.

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state.

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

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supercantaloupe · 9 months ago

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getting a migraine today of all days was so evil

#i wanna talk about me #i had a quick doc appt in the morning but after that i was home all day with no commitments #i had so much i wanted to get done re: packing and schoolwork #but my headache just wiped me tf out for most of the afternoon and evening #i ended up taking like a ninety minute nap cause i just felt so out of it #i did manage to finish my music history reading for tomorrow though i only had a couple of pages left #and i finished one reading for my library professions class. the longest one. but i didn't get to any of the others or the recorded lecture #like i wanted to #i did get my new internet set up. and made a big dinner with leftovers for the next couple of days #but. absolutely no new progress made on packing.#and no one on facebook marketplace is following up on the bedding i'm trying to get rid of 😫#i'm giving it away for free but the only three hits i've got never responded past the first message guys Please. Just Take It...#in hindsight it's probably the weather that did me in today. it's been rainy i think this is the straggling edge of a tropical storm or smt #i don't think pressure is exclusively the cause of my migraines but it does seem sometimes to coincide? idk...#i really ought to see a neurologist. but. sigh #not right now #i just better not get another one tomorrow or saturday or i'll turn into the joker fr. cannot be dealing with this again this week #ibuprofen isn't enough i need novocaine in my grey tissue

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missarchive · 6 months ago

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cognitive dissonance pt 1 - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ part two

who? tutor!spencer reid x student fem!reader

category: fluff, smut

content warnings: NSFW MDNI!! dry humping, fingering

word count: 5k

a/n: scheduled post as i am away at a new years music festival with my friends :] i will be back with you all in a few days <3

The first time you saw Spencer Reid was during a lecture hall mix-up in your second week at the university. You had rushed in, clutching your notebook and hoping to secure a spot before the professor started, only to find yourself in a room filled with students much older than you. At the center of it all, there he was—leaning casually against the podium, flipping through a worn-out book with an intensity that made the rest of the world blur around him.

He wasn’t the professor, but he might as well have been. His sharp, confident voice cut through the murmurs as he corrected an older man’s calculation on the whiteboard with such precision that the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. You’d learned his name that day from the whispers: Spencer Reid. The prodigy. The genius with more degrees than anyone knew what to do with.

From then on, he became a background character in your university life—a distant figure who seemed too brilliant, too out of reach, to exist in the same world as you. You heard the rumors, the awe-filled anecdotes: he’d started college as a child prodigy, aced every test like it was nothing, and was now juggling multiple Ph.D. programs.

Your own academic pursuits felt mundane in comparison. Sure, you worked hard, but you struggled. Like now, for instance, staring at the red marks slashing through your latest assignment—a problem set for your advanced statistics class.

“You’ve got potential, but you’re missing the fundamentals,” your professor said when you approached him after class, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “I’m assigning you a tutor.”

“A tutor?” you echoed, your stomach dropping. Group study sessions were bad enough; working one-on-one with someone felt like an invitation for them to witness your shortcomings up close.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a knowing smile. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ve paired you with one of the best.”

You didn’t know what to expect as you walked into the library that afternoon, clutching your notes so tightly your knuckles turned white. The email from your professor had given you nothing but a time and a name: Spencer Reid.

Your heart raced as you reached the designated table tucked into a quiet corner of the library. There he was, surrounded by open books and a tower of index cards, his familiar mop of brown hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled something into a notebook. He looked up when you approached, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you freeze in place.

“You’re here for tutoring?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected, though no less confident.

You nodded quickly, struggling to find your words. “Y-yeah, I’m… I’m Y/N. My professor said you’d be helping me with stats?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he gestured for you to sit. “Let’s get started, then.”

As you settled into the chair across from him, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into another universe—one where Spencer Reid wasn’t just the untouchable genius you’d admired from afar but someone real, someone tangible, someone who, for the first time, was looking directly at you.

You weren’t sure what you expected Spencer Reid’s tutoring style to be, but it certainly wasn’t this. You’d assumed he might be aloof, perhaps brisk, throwing around jargon you’d struggle to keep up with. Instead, he was patient—meticulously breaking down concepts into manageable pieces while his pen skated effortlessly across his notebook.

Not that you could focus on much of it.

His presence was… distracting. The way his long fingers tapped thoughtfully against the edge of the table, the faint crease between his brows when he explained something particularly tricky, the way his lips pursed as he considered your answer before gently redirecting you to the correct one. All of it sent your mind spiraling into a whirlwind of thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics.

“Does that make sense?” Spencer asked, tilting his head as his hazel eyes searched yours.

You blinked, realizing too late that you hadn’t heard a single word of his explanation. Heat rushed to your face as you fumbled for a response. “Um, yeah! Totally. Makes sense.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “Really? Then can you explain why we divide by the square root of the sample size in this calculation?”

Panic flared in your chest. “Oh, uh… because it… balances the equation?” you ventured weakly.

Spencer set his pen down, leaning back slightly as he studied you. There was something disarming about the way he looked at you, like he could see straight through the flustered exterior you were so desperately trying to hold together. And, knowing Spencer Reid, he probably could.

“You’re nervous,” he said, not unkindly, but with the clinical precision of someone stating a fact.

Your breath hitched. “What? No, I’m fine!” you lied, your voice raising an octave.

He tilted his head, his gaze softening. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “A lot of people feel overwhelmed during one-on-one tutoring. It’s a different kind of pressure.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sincerity in his tone stopped you. He wasn’t mocking you or trying to make you feel small. If anything, he seemed… concerned.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he continued, his voice almost soothing now. “Because if you’re too focused on feeling self-conscious, it’s going to be harder for you to process the material.”

You nodded, unable to find your voice. Spencer smiled—a small, reassuring curve of his lips—and slid his notebook closer to you.

“Let’s try this,” he said, switching tactics. “Instead of diving into the calculations right away, let’s talk about what you’re struggling with conceptually. No pressure, no judgment. Just a conversation.”

That did help, marginally. His calm demeanor and methodical approach were like a balm to your frazzled nerves. But every now and then, he’d catch you staring at him for a beat too long, your mind wandering to thoughts that had nothing to do with statistics. Each time, his gaze would flicker with amusement, like he knew exactly what was going through your head but was too polite to say anything.

By the time the session ended, your brain felt like it had been wrung out like a sponge—not just from the math but from the sheer effort of keeping yourself together in his presence. As you packed up your things, Spencer handed you a few pages of handwritten notes.

“These should help,” he said, his voice still as calm and steady as ever. “And if you have questions before our next session, feel free to email me.”

You nodded, clutching the notes like a lifeline. “Thanks. I’ll, um… I’ll do that.”

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, warm and curious. And though you were mortified at how obvious your flustered state had been, a tiny part of you couldn’t help but hope he didn’t mind.

You were determined to be better this time. You’d spent hours poring over the notes Spencer had given you, even rewatching a few recorded lectures for good measure. If you couldn’t control the embarrassing way your brain short-circuited around him, the least you could do was come prepared.

But as you approached the table in the library’s corner and saw him already seated, legs crossed, pen twirling lazily between his fingers, you realized preparation could only take you so far. He looked up as you neared, his hazel eyes lighting up briefly in acknowledgment.

“Hi,” you managed, your voice sounding far too breathy for your liking.

“Hi,” he replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he motioned for you to sit. “Ready to dive in?”

You nodded quickly, lowering yourself into the chair and flipping open your notebook. Spencer wasted no time launching into a review of last session’s material, but as he began sketching out a new problem, you felt your focus slipping again.

It wasn’t your fault, really. Who could concentrate with him looking like that? His hair was slightly messier than last time, a few stray curls brushing against his forehead. He chewed absentmindedly on the cap of his pen as he thought, the motion inexplicably captivating. And when he leaned forward to jot down a formula, the faint scent of his cologne hit you, warm and woodsy, leaving your thoughts spiraling once more.

“Did you catch that?” Spencer’s voice cut through your haze. You blinked, realizing you’d been staring—again.

“S-sorry. What?” you stammered, gripping your pen like it might anchor you to reality.

His lips quirked up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I was asking if you understood why we’re using a t-distribution here instead of a z-distribution.”

“Oh! Uh… yes?” you said uncertainly.

Spencer chuckled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “You’re lying.”

Your stomach dropped, and you immediately ducked your head, cheeks flaming. “I’m not lying,” you mumbled.

“You are,” he said, and though his tone was light, there was an unmistakable confidence in his words. “Your body language gave it away. You looked down and shifted in your chair when you answered, which is a pretty common tell.”

You groaned softly, mortified. “Okay, fine. I don’t know why we’re using it.”

“See? That’s progress.” He grinned, and you could swear there was a hint of mischief in his expression. “But I can’t help noticing that your attention seems… elsewhere.”

Your head snapped up at that, your wide eyes meeting his. “What? No! I’m paying attention.”

Spencer tilted his head, his smile widening slightly. “Really? Then why do you keep staring at me?”

Your heart practically stopped. “I’m not—I wasn’t—I mean—” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a flustered mess, and his grin only grew more pronounced.

“It’s fine,” he said smoothly, cutting off your babbling. “I just couldn’t help but notice. You’ve been doing it since last session.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I wasn’t staring,” you lied weakly.

His gaze held yours, unwavering and far too knowing. “You were,” he countered, his voice low and teasing now. “But I’m curious—why?”

“I wasn’t—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were only digging the hole deeper. “I’m just… thinking.”

“Thinking?” His eyebrows lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “About the statistics, or something else?”

You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. “The statistics,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered.

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and almost smug. “If you say so.”

He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table, and you felt the air shift between you. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softer now, “it’s not a bad thing. People observe things they find interesting.”

The words hung in the air, and you swore your pulse echoed in your ears. You couldn’t tell if he was being matter-of-fact or if there was a deeper implication in his statement, but the knowing glint in his eyes kept you from relaxing.

“Let’s try again,” he said after a beat, tapping his pen against the notebook and effortlessly shifting the conversation back to math. But the playful smirk that lingered on his face for the rest of the session made it clear: he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

When you arrived at your usual table in the library, Spencer was already there, meticulously arranging his materials. His long fingers smoothed out the corner of a page in his notebook, and he glanced up as you approached, offering a small smile that made your stomach flutter despite your best efforts to stay composed.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, sliding into your seat.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice warm and low. “Ready to tackle some more statistics?”

You nodded, pulling out your notebook and pen. He scooted his chair slightly closer—not enough to be obvious, but enough that you could feel the faintest brush of his knee against yours under the table. You froze for a moment, unsure if it was intentional, but Spencer didn’t react.

“Okay,” he began, leaning toward you to sketch out a problem. As he wrote, his shoulder nudged yours lightly. The contact was brief, but it left your skin tingling.

“Let’s start with this,” he said, his pen gliding smoothly across the page. “We’re calculating confidence intervals today. Do you remember the formula from last time?”

You stared at the problem, willing yourself to focus, but the warmth of his proximity made it difficult. “Uh… I think so?”

“Let me jog your memory,” he said. His hand moved toward your notebook, his fingers brushing against yours as he adjusted it to face him. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you.

“Sorry,” he said casually, his eyes flicking to yours for a moment. “Didn’t mean to invade your space.”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied quickly, your voice higher than usual. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that the contact had been accidental. But then he leaned even closer, his arm grazing yours as he explained the formula.

“See how the standard error fits into this part?” he asked, his voice calm and steady.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. It was impossible to concentrate with the way his sleeve brushed against yours, the subtle movement sending a ripple of awareness through you.

“Let’s work through this part together,” Spencer continued, his tone patient. He slid his hand over the notebook, his fingers brushing against yours again as he pointed to a specific number. The touch lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, but his expression remained neutral, as though he hadn’t noticed.

You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or if you were imagining things. Either way, the warmth radiating from him was making your thoughts hazy.

“You okay?” he asked suddenly, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you.

“Yeah! Totally fine,” you said quickly, though your face felt like it was on fire.

He smiled, his expression soft but unreadable. “Good. Let me know if I’m going too fast.”

You nodded, gripping your pen tightly to ground yourself. But Spencer didn’t make it easy. Every time he reached for the notebook or gestured toward your notes, his hand would brush against yours. Once, he leaned forward to grab a pen, his shoulder pressing lightly into yours for a moment that felt both casual and deliberate.

By the time the session was over, your nerves were shot. Spencer handed you a fresh set of notes, his fingers grazing yours yet again as he passed them over.

“These should help,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “You’re doing better than you think, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, clutching the notes to your chest.

“Same time next week?” he asked, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.

You nodded, too flustered to say much else. As you walked away, you replayed the session in your mind, questioning every subtle touch, every quiet moment of proximity. Was it intentional, or were you imagining things?

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell—and that you didn’t really mind either way.

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to have Spencer tutor you at your place. The library felt safer somehow, more neutral. But when he’d suggested it—citing the possibility of fewer distractions—you’d found yourself nodding without a second thought.

Now, as you sat across from him at your small dining table, you were second-guessing every decision that had led to this moment.

“Nice place,” Spencer said as he set his bag down and took in the cozy, slightly cluttered room. His eyes lingered on a stack of books by the couch. “Suits you.”

“Thanks,” you replied, fidgeting with your pen. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company, so it’s kind of messy.”

He gave you a small smile, his gaze warm and easy. “It’s fine. Ready to get started?”

You nodded, grateful for the excuse to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that Spencer Reid, in all his impossibly distracting glory, was sitting in your home.

For the first few minutes, you managed to keep things professional. Spencer explained a complex concept with his usual precision, and you actually managed to follow along. But then he leaned closer, pointing out a detail in your notes, and you felt that now-familiar flutter in your chest.

“You’ve got the right idea,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just need to be more precise here.”

He tapped the edge of the page, his hand brushing yours in the process. The contact was brief but enough to make your breath hitch.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing up at you with those impossibly perceptive eyes.

“Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed you.

Spencer’s lips quirked, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours under the table. It felt so casual, so natural, that you couldn’t decide if it was intentional.

For a while, he kept his focus on the notes, but his proximity seemed to grow with each passing moment. The air between you felt charged, like static electricity, and you could feel your resolve slipping.

“So,” Spencer said suddenly, leaning back in his chair and studying you with an intensity that made your pulse race, “how are you finding these sessions so far?”

“They’re good,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Really helpful.”

“Helpful,” he repeated, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “You sure about that?”

“Of course,” you replied, glancing up at him.

His eyes locked onto yours, and the weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear. “You seem… distracted sometimes.”

“I’m not distracted,” you said defensively, though the heat rising to your cheeks said otherwise.

Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice dropped slightly, the teasing edge unmistakable. “Are you sure? Because I get the feeling you’ve been paying more attention to me than the math.”

Your stomach flipped, and you looked down, trying to steady your breathing. “That’s not true,” you muttered.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his tone soft but insistent.

Before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers grazing yours as he took the pen from your hand. The movement was slow, deliberate, and it left your skin buzzing.

“Relax,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just helping.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. He leaned closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice shaky.

“Yes?” he murmured, his gaze flicking to your lips for the briefest of moments.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The tension between you was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

Spencer’s hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing against yours again. This time, the touch lingered, deliberate and unmistakable. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he said softly, his voice low and steady.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you found yourself leaning ever so slightly toward him, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

With a slow, careful movement, Spencer closed the distance between you, his hand resting lightly on yours as he tilted his head. The kiss, when it came, was soft and tentative, like he was giving you every opportunity to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned into him, your heart pounding as you let yourself get lost in the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“Still distracted?” he asked, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips.

Your heart thundered in your chest as his words hung in the air. You couldn’t decide if the heat coursing through you was from the kiss or the way he was looking at you—like you were the most fascinating puzzle he’d ever encountered.

“Very,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smile widened slightly, but it wasn’t the smug grin you expected. It was softer, almost tender, though his eyes still carried that flicker of mischief.

“Maybe we should take a break,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost inviting.

You nodded, your breath catching as he stood and motioned toward the couch in the living room. You followed him, your nerves on edge but your body moving of its own accord.

The moment you sat down, the tension between you snapped like a rubber band. Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, as though giving you one last chance to stop him, before leaning in again.

This time, there was nothing tentative about it. His lips met yours with more certainty, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw as he deepened the kiss. You melted into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as the kiss grew more fervent.

Spencer shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours as his free hand settled on your waist. The pressure was light, grounding, but it sent a shiver down your spine all the same. His thumb traced a small, absent-minded circle against your side, and the simple motion made your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him to angle the kiss more deeply. He responded immediately, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer. The world outside your apartment ceased to exist, leaving only the heat of his body and the intoxicating pull of his lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Spencer’s forehead rested lightly against yours, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.

“I think,” he said after a moment, his voice rougher than usual, “we’ve officially crossed into not studying territory.”

You laughed softly, your hands still clutching the front of his shirt. “You think?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. His fingers lingered on your waist, and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re full of surprises, you know,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Me?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who—”

Before you could finish, he kissed you again, effectively silencing any protest. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring every second. You sighed against his lips, your hands sliding up to his shoulders as you gave in to the moment.

Spencer’s hands, steady but careful, slid down from your waist to rest on your hips. He shifted closer, and you felt the subtle press of his body against yours, his touch firm but never overwhelming. When his knee nudged between your legs, your breath hitched, the pressure sparking a warmth that spread through you like wildfire.

You froze for half a second, unsure if the movement had been intentional, but Spencer didn’t pull back. Instead, his lips moved against yours with more intent, and his hands tightened ever so slightly on your hips, guiding you just enough for the tension between you to crackle and deepen.

“Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders more tightly as you let yourself lean into him.

Encouraged by your response, Spencer deepened the kiss, his knee pressing more firmly between your thighs. The sensation was maddeningly slow, his movements deliberate and measured as though he was testing every reaction. You gasped softly, and he swallowed the sound with a small, satisfied hum.

His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your ribs just beneath the hem of your shirt. The touch was gentle, but the heat of his palms against your skin left you trembling.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “I’m going to ask you a question from one of our sessions. If you get it right, I’ll keep going. If you don’t…” His hands stilled against your skin, and he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk growing. “Well, I’ll have to stop.”

Your mouth went dry. Was he serious? The challenge in his eyes told you he absolutely was.

“Spencer…” you started, your voice shaky with anticipation and a tinge of frustration.

“Hm?” he prompted, his hands sliding down slightly but remaining just beneath your shirt, a silent reminder of what was at stake. “What’s the formula for calculating a confidence interval?”

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to recall the formula you’d seen so many times in your notes. But all you could focus on was the way his fingers were still, waiting, as though they held the key to your ability to think.

“Um,” you began, your voice faltering. “It’s, uh, the mean… plus or minus… the critical value?”

Spencer’s smirk widened, his head tilting slightly as though he was considering your answer. “Close,” he said, his hands retreating slightly. “But not quite. Want to try again?”

“No, wait!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing as you tried to focus. “The mean plus or minus the critical value times the standard error?”

He hummed softly, his fingers resuming their slow circles. “There it is,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “See? You can focus when you want to.”

Your heart pounded as his hands slid higher, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the underside of your bra. The sensation was enough to make your breath hitch, but you barely had time to react before he spoke again.

“Next question,” he said, his tone taking on a slightly firmer edge. “What’s the first step in solving a regression problem?”

Your brain felt like it had been set on fire. How were you supposed to remember academic concepts when his hands were touching you like this?

“I—I think…” you stammered, biting your lip as you tried to focus. “The first step is… identifying the variables?”

Spencer’s brow lifted, his expression a mix of amusement and approval. “Good,” he said, his hands sliding back down to your waist. “But don’t forget to check your assumptions first. Details matter.”

You let out a soft whine of frustration, but the sound turned into a gasp as his knee pressed gently between your legs again, reigniting the fire building in your core.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he spoke. “But I think you can do better.”

The challenge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve crumbling under the weight of his attention.

“What’s the difference between Type I and Type II errors?” he asked, his tone almost clinical despite the heat radiating from him.

“Type I is… rejecting a true null hypothesis,” you managed, your voice shaky. “And Type II is failing to reject a false one.”

Spencer grinned, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. “Excellent,” he said softly. “You’re such a quick learner when you try.”

The praise made your heart race, warmth blooming in your chest as his words sank in. You barely had a chance to respond before his hand slid lower, resting on the bare skin just above the waistband of your pants.

“You deserve a reward,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“A reward?” you managed, your voice breathless and unsteady.

He chuckled softly, his lips moving to your neck, pressing a series of slow, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin. “For all your hard work,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers toying with the elastic of your waistband. “Don’t you think you’ve earned it?”

Your only response was a soft, shaky nod, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as though it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Good girl,” he said, the words barely above a whisper, but they sent a jolt through your entire body.

His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your pants, his touch deliberate and teasing as he traced the edge of your panties. He paused for a moment, his lips ghosting over your ear as he murmured, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with certainty.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slipped lower, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric of your panties to find your most sensitive spot. The first touch was light, almost experimental, but it was enough to make you gasp softly, your body arching into him.

“That’s it,” Spencer murmured, his voice filled with quiet satisfaction. “You’re doing so well.”

His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to leave you trembling in his grasp. His other hand slid up to cup your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could capture your lips in another searing kiss.

The contrast between his steady, controlled movements and the growing intensity of his kisses was intoxicating, leaving you completely at his mercy. He broke the kiss just long enough to study your face, his eyes dark with desire but filled with a surprising tenderness.

“Look at you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

The praise made your cheeks flush, but before you could respond, his fingers pressed more firmly against you, drawing a soft whimper from your lips.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight kiss. “So responsive. So perfect.”

His words and touch combined left you completely undone, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. All you could do was cling to him, your hands gripping his shoulders as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

taglist: @opheliahotchner

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #bau x reader #missarchive

973 notes · View notes

sixxels · 2 months ago

Text

diva

nerd!gojo loves his absolute diva of a girlfriend.

there were a lot of things satoru gojo didn’t understand.

why his professor insisted on giving 7 a.m. lectures when good sleep was scientifically proven to improve cognitive function. why the wifi crashed every time he needed to upload his lab reports. why textbooks cost more than his monthly rent.

but the one thing he understood better than anything? he was in love with his girlfriend. dramatic, high-maintenance, lip gloss shining at 8am, the whole thing was tiring sometimes, sure. but you were his lifeline, his escape.

and what surprised him the most was how much he loved the little, mundane stuff. the small rituals. the shared routines that stitched your days together.

he liked meeting you outside your psych class, where you'd always emerged with a dramatic sigh like the lecture had emotionally wounded you. “he used brain rot memes on the slides, satoru. i can’t keep doing this.” you'd say that, every time, and he’d laugh like it was the first time you'd ever said it.

he especially liked your aesthetic, full-on mcbling throwback fantasy. pink velour, rhinestoned phone cases, bedazzled hair clips, juicy sweats like it was 2004 and you were the star of your own teen drama. you looked like a fever dream from a y2k music video, and he was obsessed. the lip gloss, the glitter, the low-rise jeans with butterfly charms. it all should’ve been too much. but on you? it was perfect.

“you look like a bratz doll,” he told you once, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe you were real. “and i’d die for every version of you.”

you just blew him a kiss and said, “good. you’re supposed to.”

he liked when the two of you grabbed coffee between classes. you ordered like you were reciting a poem—iced vanilla oat milk latte, one pump caramel, light ice, no cold foam. he never even looked at the menu anymore. you'd sip yours and hum in approval while he nursed a plain black coffee like the boring nerd he was. you always wrinkled your nose at it. “you drink that voluntarily? for what? character development?”

he liked when you studied in the library together. you never lasted more than twenty minutes without complaining. “why is econ just… numbers pretending to have feelings? such a drag.” you'd whine, head resting dramatically on his shoulder, perfume hitting him like a truck. he pretended to be annoyed, but secretly, he loved when you did that—like he was her safe little island in a sea of boring lectures and broken printers.

he liked how you always dragged him around like a personal pet. pulling him into stores as you judged products you knew you were never going to buy. “should i get this ‘girlboss’ notebook?” you asked once. “cant tell if it's empowering or a hate crime.” he still didn’t know what that meant, but you looked cute holding it.

he liked the late-night walks after study sessions. you always wore those fuzzy slippers that weren’t meant for outdoors, but insisted they were “serving.” the two of you would walk under the string lights strung across the quad, your perfectly managed hand in his, talking about nothing and everything—professors the both of you hated, dumb memes, the little thoughts you had. "y'know toru, having a hot nerd like you on my arm makes me look 100 times more cunty."

and he especially liked when you'd pull him into empty stairwells just to kiss him, pulling him down to your height and shoving your tongue down his throat as you teasingly grinded your hips against his crotch in a passionate exchange. your lip gloss sticking to his mouth like a brand. “to keep you focused,” she’d tease, before strutting off like she hadn’t just short-circuited his entire brain, he was now faced with a problem in his pants.

it wasn’t just the big gestures or grand declarations that made him love you. it was the daily stuff—the little, ordinary routines that you made feel magical, chaotic, and unmistakably yours.

he didn’t need roses or fireworks.

he had oat milk lattes, sarcastic one-liners, stolen kisses between classes, and you.

and that was more than enough.

m.list !!

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maeumi-jng · 1 year ago

Text

if looks could kill

pairing: enhypen x idol!gn!reader

synopsis: jealousy is a disease and he's caught it. or in which enhypen members try not to expose your entire relationship.

warnings: fluff, poor humour, skinship, mentions of falling, a variety of male idols mentioned, talks of insecurity, age-gap between another idol, proof read-ish?

library: enhypen bookshelf

heeseung

he's the oldest... he should manage himself. he's mature... he knows better...

but watching you with nct's jeno... heeseung had lost all sense of knowledge and rationality.

you were mcees with jeno back in 2018 to 2019 for sbs' the show. to say fans loved you together was an understatement. even heeseung had been watching you as a trainee, in awe of you and the chemistry you naturally created with everyone.

everyone and their mother was waiting for the news ,that you and jeno were dating, to break. whether it would be by dispatch or some other shady news report, or slip of the tongue... they were all sure and convinced you two were together.

sadly, you both had ended your mcing period together, only occasionally saying hi to each other at other events where you were both scheduled. but recently, the both of you had been reinstated as special mcees for music bank when the current hosts, lee chaemin and eunchae were attending their unavoidable schedules.

heeseung was happy at first that he could see you more considering the promotions for sweet venom had just started. you had been dating for almost a year but spending time with each other was harder than the both of you thought.

heeseung's happiness, however, soon died down when he stepped into that rather small cubicle. the cameras weren't rolling yet jeno and the stupid eye smile of his was beaming down at you. he literally could feel the fawning of the staff behind the cameras, all whispering to each other about the 'never ending' chemistry between you and jeno.

the entire interview was almost uncomfortable. you and jeno had put on your peppy and jubilant personalities for mcing, enthusiastically introducing and talking to enhypen. heeseung couldn't help but notice every time you said something, his eyes would flicker to jeno instead of you and spot the similar look of admiration he himself often sported.

heeseung could only bare tight-lipped smiles to jeno when he received questions, suppressing all his petty grimaces and curled lips of annoyance. it wasn't until he received jungwon's sharp glare and pointed look that he feigned a wider smile and responded with an unfamiliar chirp to his tone.

although heeseung was scolded heavily by jungwon afterwards, at the end of the day it didn't matter. because he had caused enough of a ruckus that fans had sensed his jealousy and ran along with it, making ships and creating dating rumours for you and him. in the end... it all worked out in his favour.

jongseong

whoever said jay is calm and collected needs to take a step back and do a bit of rethinking. he's not the leader... poor guy is panicking.

it started at the end of the korean festival kbs was hosting for select groups or artists that were popular and upcoming. you and your group were walking around in circles, thanking fans for their support, makings sure they were warm, and bidding goodbye. amongst all the confetti raining down on you, for some reason, one just had to get stuck under your heel, causing enough friction for you to begin your descent into falling. you would've ended up hitting your head if it wasn't for cravity's minhee behind you. the surprised idol had decent reflexes, catching you by your arms with his own hands.

for a moment, everyone in the room was quite shocked. your own members made sure you were okay. while assuring everyone you were fine, you profusely thanked minhee while simultaneously apologising even though it wasn't your fault in anyways... you were just so embarrassed. minhee was dismissive of the entire thing, just glad you were okay and nothing bad happened.

a minor interaction of sorts... but the repercussions were big. it had set netizens ablaze. news articles and gossip sites had been circulating. fans were looking back at old fancams to see your previous interactions, hoping you and minhee were indeed dating.

yeah jay wasn't happy. he didn't think anything of it initially. he was happy you were fine, similar to minhee, and thankful the idol was there to help you. but then he got the ship edits on his for you page. he blinked blankly and then clicked on the comments... oh boy.

they said you looked good with minhee? that you... 'suited' each other. or 'why haven't i thought of these two together before?' what the hell... the poor guy's literally looking at his screen with the most furrowed brows and dumbfounded face as a burning whirl begins to spark within him.

as dangerous as it was, jay would rather have his name circulating in your dating rumours rather than someone else that wasn't him. so he did just that. subtlety, of course.

jay wasn't necessarily the couple matching type of guy. he liked getting you things that were unique to you. but all of sudden, he was bombarding you with matching items... keychains, phone cases, bracelets, necklaces, even your damn socks.

safe to say, he had created a monstrosity that the hybe pr team was going to spend the next few weeks attempting to deny.

jaeyun

this one here... he can't bare it. jake is already so expressive and clingy (in a good way ofc). he feels a lot. therefore, he really really really likes you.

he won't lie. he's searched the both of your names up on twitter or naver far too many times just to see it trending. not to mention his secret tik tok account where he likes all of the ship edits and videos made for you two, even if they are terrible. more than once his pr team have thought of smacking some sense into him but it just seemed like jake was lovesick.

to be honest, the pr team was prepared to confirm news of you two dating. with the rate jake was going, he would've probably exposed it himself.

and the recent sbs gayodaejeon lost him.

you and yeonjun had a special stage together. he was slightly nervous already in the fact that you were performing together because he knew how fans got. but from the moment the performance started and he realised you guys were having a dancing stage... jake was left to become god's strongest soldier. yeah... no.

how on earth was jake supposed to know it was going to have this much skinship? jake loved shawn mendes but after today... he hated him. furthermore, he hated 'senorita' with a passion.

to make matter worse, the fans who were already going to be a bit delusional, were even more delusional. they were all fired up. "dispatch reveal, when?" "i would cry if yeonjun looked at me like that." "can't tell whether i want to be y/n or him..." "their chemistry... shit..."

his members were already worried for jake but their worry was becoming a constant state. all this jealousy was transferring into his work. jake was showing up to work every day, mind somewhere else, pouty and sulky, always reading the comments and influx of ship edits of you and yeonjun that had replaced his... the AUDACITY. not to mention, he was avoiding yeonjun like a plague. oh he's in the cafeteria? oops, bathroom time. backstage and talking to heeseung? well.

best believe the next few days he's stuck to you as if you were attached by the hip. jake's making it more obvious by the second and he couldn't care less. arm strung around your waist, hand in hand, pretending there was an eyelash on your face just to caress it, passing you his blazer at award shows to cover your legs or back.

quickly, any talk of you and yeonjun was gone and (rightly, according to jake), replaced by you and jake. he even made the mistake of going live, where the entire chat was filled with questions about whether you and jake were dating. someone said blink seven times if he was, so he blinked seven times afterwards. another said clap in a circle if he was, so he did.

yeah... a day later, belift and your company released a conjoined statement to confirm it. fans were mostly happy and also laughing at the fact that jake was so obviously jealous of yeonjun, who he now could look in the eye, knowing you were right by his side (not that yeonjun even cared. if anything, he probably found it funny as well).

sunghoon

sunghoon and jealousy... one could say it a good mix rather than a bad mix.

sunghoon was used to getting asked out often. not to brag, but have you seen him? it was a good looking guy. he understood it.

but you.. boy, you were on a whole another level. people were practically lining up for you. numbers on napkins accompanied by food or chocolate, straight up confessions or attempts for your number backstage, or even flowers under the pretence of congratulating you.

bold and brave, sunghoon thought. these people were bold and brave to be doing all of this. but he got it. in a way, he was proud. all these people... and you chose him. he mattered far more than you and only the both of you knew it. he cherished that. the secrecy of your relationship, while not ideal, meant keeping all the things he loved (you) all to himself with no one else intruding.

but all this secrecy didn't stop things from going a tad bit too far.

an actor and idol. park jihoon. the man wasn't a confession type of guy. at least not immediately. instead, he liked to court and flirt. and his choice? you.

you had both acted in a drama together recently. the chemistry between you two... well, it set everyone alive to say the least. even sunghoon was flustered... he couldn't tell if he hated jihoon or he wanted to replace jihoon and do all those scenes with you. both probably.

you were clearly paying your dues... being kind and nice to the actor even though the affection was very much one-sided. but either your kindness was leading him on or he couldn't take a hint because jihoon was not afraid of anything it seemed.

when asked his ideal type behind the scenes? you.

the purposeful double meaning type of comments that bordered more on corny rather than flirty? said.

the chance to hold your arm when you both took home the best couple award? taken.

the couple award struck sunghoon's last nerve. because one could excuse the arm thing as a basic manner moment. but the comment jihoon made. simple and quite common in the acting industry. yet said with every pure intention. "i would really like to work with y/n again." followed by the awes and gushing of fans and fellow actors while you painted a small smile and a soft laugh in response.

what. the. fuck.

are you serious? is he serious?

him and jay are the same. they want to be more obvious but in the least obvious way. instead of taking the matching items route, sunghoon needed to directly deal with jihoon. so every time you had a schedule with jihoon... mcing, award presenting, as nominees, etc, sunghoon pulled something new.

you're talking to jihoon about the wide praise you two were receiving for your work and suddenly, "oh, you left your phone at mine, here you go." sunghoon would put what was his phone into your hand and literally leave. and you're left there standing like ??? and jihoon is also like ???

this time you're sitting with the actor backstage and suddenly a water bottle dangles in front of your face. sunghoon is smiling at you, completely disregarding jihoon. "you like water, right? here." uh, sunghoon, sweetheart... everyone likes water. we kinda need it to live, babes.

by this point, you're now expecting sunghoon. eyes darting every second to get a glimpse of his growing hair and the smell of tamburins' wood salt beach perfume in the air to notify you of his presence. but he doesn't come. you're partly relieved but also sad. you were kinda of enjoying it. well, more like it was growing on you.

psych!

you and every other artist and actor is going around in circles, thanking the fans for coming tonight and what not. sunghoon is going for a strike. it's the evening, the temperature has cooled down and you're stylist has opted for a more summery outfit in this winter weather. you must be freezing is sunghoon's thought (you can't feel the cold considering the heat of a gazillion lights are on you but sure). ever the smooth man, sunghoon slides off of his blazer and puts it onto your shoulders, telling you to keep warm.

you were shocked.

jihoon was shocked.

everyone's shocked.

sure, sunghoon sacrificed a bit of your secrecy considering by the morning clips of the action were swarming every platform and every past fancam was being investigated, but the look on jihoon's face was absolutely worth it. and if he had to do it all over again just to see you smile warmly back at him and thank him, he would do it again in a heart beat.

seonwoo

sunoo is one of those people who wouldn't be that jealous. it's not that he wasn't insecure... he was human first and foremost. but he didn't really care for anyone else when it came to you. he only had eyes for you.

also he thought he was already obvious? like he's the one singing your song when they play through his headphones when the group plays the whisper game. or the first one to critique jake when he messes up the lyrics of your song during a live because he knows them off by heart. or the literal STACK of your albums (exclusive, limited, every version) he had in his dorm and his parents' house. there was literally more albums of your group then enhypen's that his parents had taken the responsibility of.

yet, that doesn't stop kim wooseok. well, not him specifically. the fans. you acted with him in the drama, the night has come. you weren't aware of your seven year age gap until your first meeting with him and he said he was like 27. and sunoo was like o_o. bc wdym your 27? he looked the same age as you... and he was playing an attractive teenager easily... wtf? unfair much???

while the age gap wasn't great, the romance wasn't heavily what your show was about anyways, which could make one feel lighter. despite all of that, sunoo had seen edit after edit after edit about you and wooseok. you and wooseok behind the scenes discussing your characters feelings towards each other, you and wooseok at a press conference bc he was making sure you were able to sit down in the small outfit your stylist gave you, you and wooseok in the water together

you and fucking wooseok.

sunoo was going to lose it. how much more obvious could he be?

how about matching couple items? well, the thing about sunoo is that he already has matching items. why wouldn't he? they were so cute!

sunoo also wasn't the type of person to directly combat it. he wasn't sunghoon.

he was mixture of jake, and well, himself. sunoo quickly got pouty and sulky as well. any time he heard that damn mafia alarm ring from your for you page, with feigned and overwhelming kindness, he gently took the phone from your hands and threw it onto the bed before folding his arms and looking at you blankly.

anytime a member brought up the drama on live and set of the chat to talk about you and wooseok, sunoo would immediately try to change the subject or he'd be a bit catty... "i just didn't know how old he was... he like so old." (fans began to notice how often this happened after bringing it up two or three times, resulting in the constant chatter of you and wooseok just to rile him up).

by end of the last episode, sunoo thought everyone would stop talking about the show. but no... you and the damn plot (which one? up to you) left everyone wanting more... especially of you and... yeah, he can't even say the name anymore.

the only way sunoo is getting over this, is by you comforting him. he isn't going to unnecessarily create rumours or try to leak your relationship. to be honest, the thought of it was terrifying. he hated involving himself in drama.

you end up spending the next few weeks almost sunoo-crazed. "oh sunoo recommended me this product..." forget matching bracelets, you brought him matching pyjamas. "oh, my dog? she's great. she doesn't really like people but she seems like sunoo the most. maybe more than me :("

soon, in a year or two, when the news breaks out of you two dating, this odd period of time will finally make sense.

jungwon

calm and collected? yes. why? he's the leader. said it before, but jungwon has the sole responsibility to be able to adjust to every situation there is.

an injured member? he's got it.

wardrobe malfunction? let's have a word with the stylist.

mic pack falling off mid-stage? man's got the word 'professional' in his dna.

if anyone asked him, truthfully, jungwon admired you. as a fan and as your boyfriend. you were similar to him. the same age, a young leader, good at basically everything... but you had three differences. one that your group might as well have invented the word popularity. second that you debuted earlier than him. lastly that you, yourself, created a new category of idols - super idols or super-dols.

what is a super-dol you ask? an all rounder that performs and executes everything with diligence and quality. they mean everything. not just the whole singing, rap, dancing combo. they mean the inclusion of acting, music production, song writing... etc.

they said that a person like you only comes once in a life time. they struggled to add people to your assigned 'category'.

to think jungwon was dating you was beyond him. how you liked him was equally beyond him. he thought he was just lucky. you thought otherwise. jungwon was everything to you. he understood you, he was always by your side and he was hard working. life was hard. but being with him made you feel like life in itself made sense.

jungwon knew that people wanted you. not romantically but as friends, as a mentor, as an advisor... it made sense for someone of your caliber. so he wasn't surprised when the newly debuted anton of riize was collaborating with you to produce a new song. but what he didn't expect was the genuine interest of the idol. nor did everyone else.

jungwon was backstage at the mbc gayodaejeon, watching your special stage with anton. it was the last day of the year and the last thing he wanted to do was end it on a bad note with something a fickle as jealousy. yet, the green-eyed monster had found him as he watched anton's gaze remain on you, as though he were unable to move, smiling ear to ear while you sang.

he heard one of his staff whisper to another, "they aren't dating right? gosh, they should date! he looks like he really likes her!"

jungwon could feel the cautious gazes of his members on him, trying dismiss such nonsense with frantic comments. "they don't know what they're talking about, jungwon." "ignore them." " he shook his head lightly, taking a deep breath. he needed to remain calm. if he couldn't, who would?

he trusted you with his entire heart. you liked him, there was no doubt in his mind. his heart skipped when he made you flustered with his sweet nothings and attention to detail. and to be frank, he understood anton. if the positions were swapped and he was in anton's place, he thought he would look at you the same way.

minutes after the clock struck twelve, jungwon didn't have to even look for you. you had found him instead, dragging him behind one of the trailers. you brought him into a long kiss, hugging him tightly.

jungwon smiled into this kiss, bringing you closer to him as all of his nonsensical worries melted away. parting almost breathlessly, his heart warmed at your wish of a happy new year. he smiled once again, placing a kiss the side of your head while he grabbed your hand, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. "happy new year, baby."

riki

riki was right on the precipice of youth and adulthood. he was only a year younger than jungwon but everyone always treated him with such fragility. not just because of his young age but the innocence that came with moving to a different country because of his said young age.

but riki was more mature than he looked. he had to be. it wasn't that he was alone. no. his members and friends would never ever make him feel like that. nor would you. but this type of maturity was required of him.

upon seeing p1h's soul or haku's eyes constantly travel back and forth to you as he interviewed your group, riki resolved to maintain stoic and pretend like he didn't care. you were in public, all eyes were on you. did it bug him that the person looking at you was the same age and also japanese? yes. but the nudge of jungwon and the thought of dealing with the staff was enough to make him stand down at the time. to be honest, if haku's whole thing ended after the interview, riki wouldn't of cared.

but it didn't.

riki was observing him throughout your performance (well as much as one could, he was still trying to watch you) and haku kept looking at you. like his eyes were moving with you as if he was only focused on you. but it was fine. riki could handle this... this was life... right?

haku, however, seemed to enjoy taking on every last nerve of riki's (unintentionally ofc, sorry haku 🥹). your group and enhypen were seated together backstage, all chatting and playing card games to waste some time before having to go back out. riki, ever the communication expert, already pointed the boy to you. "can't you just look away every time he looks at you?" he complained.

you raised a brow, placing down a card. "you want me to not meet his eyes in an interview? riki, i didn't peg you as the jealous type," you teased.

riki blankly looked at you. "i'm not," he said defensively, folding his arms. "i'm not jealous. i'm just being... absolutely reasonable."

"sure, sure..." you squinted your eyes, nodding sarcastically. "riki, just forget about it. you were probably hallucinating. he probably was just looking at me normally. honestly, you should rest more like i told you to."

riki wished you were right. that he was indeed hallucinating. but any maturity riki had been working on was already on a thin line and diminished as he saw haku walk up to your large group, greeting everyone but mostly you. heart eyes and all.

in the moment, it dawned on you that riki was in fact right. haku's finger twiddling, the brief pause before he spoke as if he was thinking about what to say only for him to still fumble over his words, the tinged ears... you had done the same thing to riki when he suddenly told you he liked you after being clingy for days on end.

well... shit.

you were quick to act.

no one spoke as much japanese as the yearly comebacks warranted. at least that's what you figured when you greeted him back in japanese, introducing riki to him as another japanese idol he could be friends with and the best part, as your boyfriend.

the corners of riki's mouth couldn't help but twitch up. to say he was belated was an understatement. he dipped his head a little, a wide smile now sprawled all over his face.

the visible disappointment on haku's face made your heart ache slightly. you felt terrible. maybe you should've let him down less... directly. but the obvious happiness riki was radiating off of him made you want to smack some sense into him.

by the end of your schedule, you had hesitantly accepted riki's offer for you to sleep over at the dorm because you had no idea why but regret felt like it was looming over you. and boy was it. the entire way back home, riki teased you the entire time.

"say it again. say that i'm your boyfriend again! why not? too shy? you weren't shy then.. you said it so confidently like..."

the teasing only ended when you ignored him for the rest of the ride and riki realised he had fallen victim to the silent game. he was a fan of silence. but this was not the one he enjoyed.

cutting back on the teasing, riki just relished the fact you were asleep in his arms and not anyone else's. you were with him and that's all that mattered. ♡︎

#maeumi-jng #maeumi jng’s library — enhypen bookshelf ♡︎#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung x reader #jay x reader #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #riki nishimura x reader #niki x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcannons

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sturnioz · 3 months ago

Text

tw. obsessive behaviour. please read with caution. credits for obsessive!chris. @bernardsbendystraws

☆. . . CHRIS OBSESSES OVER THINGS AND gets attached pretty quickly. if there's a new game he likes, he'll continuously play it as if there's no other game in the world. if there's a song he likes, he'll have it on repeat so much that he memorises the lyrics and the instrumentals. if there's a new food he likes, he'll only eat that until the thought of consuming it makes him violently sick and he finds something different.

with people he crushes on, chris does everything and anything to be around them—forcing his way into their personal bubble and interests.

and you were his next target.

he first met you during a morning class you shared together, and you were made to sit next to him due to a minor inconvenience with another college student—bare faced, covered in an oversized red sweater, smelling like fresh strawberries and vanilla.

chris froze up in his seat, unable to draw his gaze away from the side of your head. his favourite colour is red, his favourite fruit is strawberries, and he loves the scent of vanilla candles. what a coincidence?

it's clear you did this for him.

you're perfect.

you're his.

his staring wasn't subtle, which made you feel even more annoyed than you already were from being forced to move seats, and you turn to look at him to confront him. but you see the look in his eyes—filled with want, desire, need.

a smirk slowly slithers across his lips, and he leans his elbows on the table as his eyebrow raises at your own unfiltered staring, but you tear your gaze away from him in an instant, focusing elsewhere in the room.

you begin to slowly notice the appearances chris starts to make in your everyday life; sitting near your table during lunch, studying at the library while you're there, following you on all your social media accounts, liking all your posts on instagram, and even posting stories with your favourite music attached.

he isn't slick, and he knows it.

you eventually end up cornering chris the next time you see him, especially when you catch him sitting in one of your favourite restaurants eating one of your favourite meals—which, by the way, you've never posted or hardly spoke about it in public or on your socials. you've gatekept it for so long than even your friends don't know.

chris is beaming from ear to ear when you plant yourself down in the chair opposite him, practically demanding him to answer all your questions about him knowing so much about you in such a short amount of time, but chris doesn't care, not when he finally has your attention after craving you for so long.

how you end up in a five hour long conversation with him is beyond you. you expected to be gone after confronting him on his obsessive behaviour, but you end up completely captivated by his smile and the way he talks to you, so you don't have it in you to get up and leave just like that.

he's already got you wrapped around his fingers, and he feels his obsession grow a little stronger when he manages to get a raw confession out of you.

your virginity hardly meant anything to you. you never actively went out looking for someone to hook-up with, and you weren't really saving it for that 'someone special'. it was just there, and it didn't bother you.

but somehow, you're home, your clothes thrown carelessly on the floor in a cluttered mess with chris between your legs, desperate lips biting and sucking at your skin like a starved animal, savouring the way you taste on his tongue—he's always been curious.

chris feels like he's on cloud nine once he's finally sheathed inside of your tight gummy walls, buried to the hilt with his balls pressed to your puffy folds that stretch around his cock, and his body flush against yours—sticky and sweaty.

chris could cry from delight as he cradles your cheek, a smile slipping onto his lips as he watches your face contort from pain to pleasure, feeling your nails dig into his skin and creating raw scratch marks that he can't wait to admire in the mirror later.

his grip tightens around your jaw, thumb stroking your plush bottom lip before pushing through the small gap of your mouth, pressing his thumb down on your tongue as he rolls his hips forward, sliding his cock in and out of your warmth, relishing in the sounds of your squeals and moans that fill his ears.

he's got you.

you're his.

you're all his.

divider credits. @/enchanthings-a

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tilliebilly · 3 months ago

Text

Tipsy

Pairing: Hufflepuff! Reader x Mattheo Riddle

Synopsis: You find Mattheo passed outoutside of his common room after curfew.

CW: fluff, drunk Mattheo, mentions of partying, mentions of hooking up, alcohol, female reader.

Author's note: This is my first ever post, so please be kind!! But also, feedback is appreciated, just don't be mean please hahah!!

I startle awake, ignoring the ache of my cheek from pressing it against my potions book as I hastily look at the thin, golden watch on my arm. 10:07. I had to put away the borrowed books and return to my dorm before Mr Filch and Mrs Norris realised I was in the library after curfew. Merlin, this is what I get for studying after I only slept for two hours the night before. In my defense, my two drunk roommates kept me up all night.

After considering just going back to sleep and getting detention in the morning, I drowsily stack all the books together and leave them in the return bin. I’m pretty sure that I accidentally left my favourite quill in one of the books, but having to go through all of them again honestly sounds more tiresome than running laps around the school, so I figure I could probably borrow one from Hannah - she always has spares!

. ˚⋆ ⭒₊˚ ⋅ . ₊ ⊹ ݁ ⋆ ⭒ ˚｡ . . ݁₊‧₊˚ ⋆'𐙚⋅｡ ౨ৎ ⋅｡𐙚⋆⭒ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ⭒˚ ⋆ . . ˚｡ . ₊ ⋆ . ݁ ⭒˚ .

On the way back to my dorm, the sound of loud music slightly wakes me up, and I remember the big party that the Slytherin house is hosting. Lorenzo had invited me, but he has also been very clear about what actually happens at those parties in the past and just the thought makes me shiver.

My heart drops when I notice a figure sitting down outside of their common room, and figuring it has to be Mr Filch, I attempt to do some type of ninja-spy-jump to avoid him seeing me. It was probably never that good of a plan in the first place, but the fact that I don’t stick the landing doesn’t make it any better. I slip on my way down, falling onto my back. I attempt to suppress groaning from the pain to not wake him up, but it seems like the fall was loud enough because he quickly stirs awake.

To my relief, the boy staring back at me definitely isn’t Mr Filch. Like, definitely isn’t. I’m not even sure how I managed to believe that.

“Mm… [name]?” The boy stirs, eyes squinted as he looks at me. I push myself onto my feet, caressing my sore back. My face heats up immediately as I realise who I’ve just embarrassed myself in front of, and I’m sure he can see how red I am even in the dark. I'm surprised he recognised me so quickly, but I suppose that isn't that odd considering how long we've known each other.

“Sorry, Mattheo… gosh, I didn’t mean to wake up!” I attempt to read his expression, but it’s hard to see anything with the shadows cast over him. Not many people know this, but his dad is actually he-who-must-not-be-named. Which I only know since my father is his most loyal follower. “I’m really sorry, I uh… I thought you were Mr Filch.” I explain, waving my hands around erratically as I step closer to him. If Mattheo got upset with me (and he gets upset quite easily) I could get in huge trouble with my family, so I pray to Merlin he’s too drunk to care.

He sighs but shakes his head. “S’alright… but you seriously thought I was Mr Filch? Do we look alike or what?” He chuckles now, making me let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I furrow my eyebrows, realising he was sleeping... right outside his common room? Outside of his own party? “What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, sliding against the wall to sit down next to him. He reeks of alcohol, but considering my roommates, it’s nothing I’m not used to.

He groans, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “Enz kicked me out… and’m not feeling too good.”

“He kicked you out? Isn’t it your party?” He clutches his stomach, and it looks like he’s about to throw up, but he inhales sharply and relaxes again. “Do you need some water? I have a bottle in my bag, wait.” I mumble, scrambling through my leather bag. Oh look, there’s my quill! I pull out a light pink tumbler, gently pushing it into his arms. He looks at it, then at me, before smirking.

“Is this just an excuse to get us to kiss?” He slurs his words slightly, but it’s still clear what he says. ”Not that I have anything against it.” My cheeks immediately go red from the way he tilts his head and nudges at my shoulder with a grin.

“Alright, you’re really drunk.” I chuckle, looking away from him. “Try to drink; it’ll get you to sober up.” He nods, opening it with a *click* and bringing it towards his lips. He gulps, and some water spills out and runs down his sharp jaw, down to his neck. After drinking what looks like the whole bottle, he places it between his legs and wipes his swollen lips with the back of his hand.

“Thanks,” He mumbles, and this time it looks like he’s blushing. He’s clearly still intoxicated, though, so it isn’t odd. “I uh… I beat up some guy. I don’t even remember why. I think he looked at me weird? Anyway, Enzo didn’t want me to scare away the ladies so he told me I could go sober up out here.” He explains, leaning his head back towards the wall. My eyes are still focused on the water droplet hanging onto his jawline that he didn’t manage to wipe away.

“Oh,” I reply, finally looking away from him. It wasn’t unusual for Mattheo to get irritated and it definitely wasn’t unusual for him to get in fights, but beating someone up because they looked at you weird is a bit too much. I mean, of course, you shouldn’t beat anyone up, but you get my point! “Well, when are you going to be let back in? Do you know it’s past curfew?”

He looks down at me with a mocking grin, raising his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Well, why are you out so late then, miss goody two-shoes?”

“I fell asleep in the library,” I shrug. “Are you going to have to sleep here the whole night?” I ask carefully, my heart aching a bit from how in pain he looks.

He nods. “I think his plan was for me to get caught by Mr Filch. He’s evil, man.”

“Don’t say that, Lo’s my friend! I’m sure he just… was worried about you.” Mattheo looks at me with disbelief before shaking his head.

“Maybe,” He mumbles, pulling a hand through his tousled hair. “But I sure could use a bucket right now.” He slurs, once again clutching his stomach.

I hate myself for what I’m about to ask. All I really wanted was just to go to sleep. But I couldn’t just leave him here, right? I mean, I’ve never been drunk myself, but I’m sure having Mr Filch shout at you while having a hangover isn’t nice. “Do you uhm… do you… want to come back to my dorm?” I suggest, giving him a small smile. Plus, I guess, some part of me wouldn't mind hanging out with him again. And with 'some part', I really mean my whole heart. I really miss spending time with him.

He laughs slightly, looking at me with droopy eyes. “Are you flirting with me, miss goody two-shoes?”

This time, I can tell he notices my blushing because his eyes fixate on my cheeks with a smile. “What? No! No, no. That wasn’t what I meant, I promise! I just… you know, I was trying to be..” I trail off, fiddling with my nails. “…nice,” I look up at him, and he looks back at me, nodding slowly. He leans towards me slightly, and I notice a bruise on his right eyebrow. I also notice how his eyes dart down to my lips as he licks his. He leans in a bit more, and I back away with wide eyes. “You know, if you needed to sober up is all I meant. And I have a bucket!” I smile as he snaps back into reality.

“Oh, right. Well, could you carry me there? M’so tired.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, of course, easy peasy!” I laugh, standing up to give him a hand.

He takes it, pulling himself up. His weight makes me stumble away. “I could probably carry you. You’re so much smaller than me.” He smiles sleazily, and I cringe at his suggestion. I'm sure he's just thinking aloud, though. Plus, he isn't even really that tall.

“Maybe. Let’s just get going, okay?”

He nods, and I can��t help but laugh at how he stumbles forward, eyes focused on his feet. It looks like he’s balancing on a tightrope!

. ˚⋆ ⭒₊˚ ⋅ . ₊ ⊹ ݁ ⋆ ⭒ ˚｡ . . ݁₊‧₊˚ ⋆'𐙚⋅｡ ౨ৎ ⋅｡𐙚⋆⭒ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ⭒˚ ⋆ . . ˚｡ . ₊ ⋆ . ݁ ⭒˚ .

I open my dorm door gently, knowing it usually creaks. I’m not afraid of waking up my roommates, both of them are at the party we just left, but I am afraid of Hannah hearing. She’s been having trouble sleeping lately, and her dorm is right next to ours. We aren’t really known for sneaking people into our dorms, especially Slytherin people, and she would probably give me detention just for 'tarnishing the Hufflepuff reputation. '

“Right, come on in,” I whisper, holding the door open for him. He steps in carefully, immediately sitting down on my roommate, Charlotte’s bed. “You can lie down over here, come on,” I help pull him up and guide him over to my bed. “Do you want me to get a bucket? I don’t want you throwing up on the carpet.” He nods with a groan. I quickly pick up my steel bin, pulling off the plastic bag and giving it to him.

“[Name],” He sighs, looking at me with disbelief. “This has holes in it, it would… leak.” He pushes the mesh bin back into my arms, and I put it back, grabbing the actual bucket lying under Rachel’s bed. She used it to water her biggest plants, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.

“Right, I’m so sorry! Here you go.” I sit down on the bed next to him. He immediately brings it up to his face, vomiting into it as I rub circles on his back. Rachel always says it helps her. He places it down, careful to not knock it over.

“Are you okay? Do you want some macarons?” I ask, but it’s more of a rhetorical question because before he can answer, I stand up to grab the box of macarons I had intended to give to the first years. But I could always bake more! I place the box in his lap with a tired smile. “Eating makes the alcohol go away quicker, I think.”

“Merlin, my head hurts.” He groans, opening the box.

“Yeah, well that’s what you get for drinking.” I shrug, and he rolls his eyes with a grin as he picks up one of the macarons. I look at him patiently as he chews. Smiling with anticipation for what he was going to say about them. The best thing about baking was hearing people's opinions. As long as it was praise, of course. I would cry if anyone told me my baking was bad.

He furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“Did you like them?” I beam, shaking my leg.

He laughs, placing a hand on my leg to stop it from shaking. I go red from his touch, but he only grins wider at the sight. “I really liked them.” He hums, moving his hand from my leg to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

I swear to Merlin, I could die right now. He seriously looks like an angel. His messed up, curly hair is suddenly lying perfectly, and the blueish light creeping out from the top of my window is cast on him like a halo. His slightly teary eyes from the alcohol make it look like they’re shining, and I doubt anyone has ever been this handsome. His hand lingers on my cheek before he pulls away. “Thanks.” I mumble with a small smile.

“Where are your roommates anyway?” His words are being more coherent, and he’s almost not slurring at all anymore.

“They’re at the party. I doubt they’ll be back until tomorrow, they’re both terrified of Mrs Norris,” I laugh, thinking back at the time Charlotte had screamed when she saw a Maine Coon strolling around the halls when I was helping her sneak out. Turns out it was just a Ravenclaw’s lost cat. “So you can rest if you’d like. I’m sure Charlotte wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her bed.” I yawn as he quickly grabs for the bucket again to spew into. It’s hard to find someone attractive when they’re puking their guts out every other minute, but oddly enough, I do.

He places it down again before glancing at me. I wonder for a moment if he's waiting for me to stand up so that he could lie down with how intent his gaze is. But then he smiles, his gaze still unwavered. "You look really pretty."

"I do?" I ask carefully. He moves closer until our legs touch. He leans down until he can make eye contact without looking down. On second thought, maybe he is quite tall.

"Mhm." His eyes dart down to my lips again, but this time, my eyes do the same. He grabs at my waist, pulling me towards him even more, and I let him.

It feels like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. Like, seriously, is it supposed to beat this fast? "Thank you." I breathe, and we're silent for a moment, only leaving space for my thumping heart, which I'm sure he's close enough to hear, too.

He then swallows, biting his lip. "I want to kiss you." His voice his hoarse as his hand cups my cheek. I didn't hear him correctly; I couldn't have.

"Sorry?"

He pulls me in by my face as an answer, gently pressing his lips to mine. The hand on my waist slides to my back, pushing me even closer to him. He smiles into the kiss when I grab onto his shoulders, pushing myself farther up. He tastes like alcohol mixed with the sweetness of my macaron, and with the way he nibbles on my top lip, it feels like he wants to eat me, too. He pulls away, and it takes a moment before he opens his eyes. But the way he looks at me after, it makes me feel like the kiss traveled all the way from my lips to my stomach and sprouted into butterflies. The hand on my cheek moves down to my waist, and he pushes me towards him until I'm sitting in his lap.

I flinch when he releases his hold on me, instead using his hands to pull his shirt over his head. I quickly shift away from him to stand up. He furrows his eyebrows, but I just move away from him even more when he reaches out his arms towards me. "I... need to put on pyjamas." I manage to muster before scurrying into the loo.

I actually just kissed Mattheo Riddle. And I liked it. And I think he wanted to hook up with me. Goodness, this is a lot. Not in a million years could I have anticipated that my first kiss was going to be with Voldemort's son- or, he-who-must-not-be-named, I'm sorry, I'm nervous. I mean, of course, I've thought about it and dreamt about it a few times, but it was more of a fantasy than anything else. He did want to hook up, right? He didn't just take off his shirt because he got hot? Oh no, maybe he did. And if so, I was totally super weird for no reason.

I exhale, slipping into silk pyjamas before remembering how tired I am. All I have to do is go to bed. I don't even have to say anything to him! Or maybe that's ignoring him. Should I be mad that he assumed I wanted to sleep with him? But again, what if he didn't assume that? Our dorm does get pretty warm. And then I'd be mad for nothing. No, this is something newly-slept me will have to deal with.

I'm relieved when I exit the bathroom to find him sleeping. His shirt is still off, but he's lying on his stomach. I fall onto Charlotte's bed, not even having time to dwell before I fall asleep.

The next morning, Mattheo is gone, and in his place is a passed-out Charlotte who still has her makeup on.

. ˚⋆ ⭒₊˚ ⋅ . ₊ ⊹ ݁ ⋆ ⭒ ˚｡ . . ݁₊‧₊˚ ⋆'𐙚⋅｡ ౨ৎ ⋅｡𐙚⋆⭒ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ⭒˚ ⋆ . . ˚｡ . ₊ ⋆ . ݁ ⭒˚ .

"I'm serious, Rachel. McGonagall has already removed two house points for your endeavours in the past. How many more is it going to take for you to realise this isn't okay?" Hannah whines, and I do my best to suppress my laughter at Rachel's attempt at feigning innocence.

Rachel groans, crossing her arms like a toddler. "What? This is totally unfair. I swear I didn't go to that party last night! Please, don't give me detention!"

"I'm really sorry! But I have to! If you and Charlotte keep doing this, everyone's going to think Hufflepuff's party a lot, and then McGonagall will take away all of our points, and we'll never win the house cup!"

Rachel rolls her eyes but gives in. "Fine. I'm sorry, Hannah," She mutters. Hannah nods and walks away. "I can't believe this. Like, I'm sorry for trying to have some fun! Is that against the rules?" She whispers to me.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think you deserve detention, but you don't ever think you might do it too much?" I ask, as gently as possible. Rachel has one of the shortest tempers ever, but honestly, I am a bit worried for her. It's probably been a week since I last saw her in bed in time, and she's always so tired in school.

For some reason, she doesn't argue- instead, her eyes go wide, and it looks like she's nodding to something. I furrow my eyebrows, turning around. To my surprise, it's Mattheo. He's rubbing his neck with one hand, and the other is tucked behind his back. His cheeks are red, and his tie isn't tied properly, but what I notice most is how he seems to be looking everywhere but me.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asks quietly.

I turn around to Rachel, who's shaking her head profusely. "Uh, no. What's wrong?"

"Right then, could I... talk to you?" I nod slowly, and he grabs my arm and pulls me away from Rachel. He swallows harshly before bringing forward the arm he had tucked behind his back. He's holding my pink tumbler! I must've left it outside his common room yesterday. "I found this. It's yours, right?"

I smile brightly, taking it from him. Our fingers touch when I do, and the redness on his cheeks grows. "Yeah! Thank you, gosh, I didn't realise I had left it." I beam, placing it on the bench behind me. He has something else to say, though. And it's one hundred percent about the kiss. I hadn't told my friends yet, but it's the only thing that's been circling through my mind the whole day. How gently he had held me, how he looked in the moonlight. It honestly felt surreal, like it was all just a dream. But then I remember how awkwardly I had run away from him when he took off his shirt, and I'm reminded of how real it was.

"Look, about yesterday. I'm really sorry I... It was so stupid of me." He groans, rubbing his face with his hand. I nod, but it feels like my heart has stopped beating. Of course, he thinks it was a mistake. He was drunk, and we haven't talked to each other in like a year. It was a mistake. But then, why did it feel so right?

"It's fine." Is all I respond with. Of course, I wanted to say more. I wanted to say that I want to kiss him again and that it wasn't stupid at all and that I've had a crush on him since we were kids. Ever since the dance we shared during the pureblood ball a few years ago, where we laughed all evening. And most especially ever since that time he comforted me, crying, after my father told me what the death eaters really did.

He nods, and it looks like he's about to walk away, but he turns around again and finally looks me in the eyes. "No, it's not fine. I was a total jerk to you. I just... I'm not used to girls being that nice to me unless they want to sleep with me. I mean, I know that you don't sleep around. I was just really drunk, and I really liked kissing you, so, you know. Or, ugh, I sound like a dick." He runs a hand through his hair.

I smile. "You liked kissing me?" I raise my eyebrows teasingly, trying to get him to lighten up.

"Well, yeah. I've wanted to..." He cuts himself off and clears his throat before continuing. "Look, I don't want you to think that I think of you as just another girl to hook up with. Because I really don't. I mean, yeah, I was drunk yesterday, but... I've always thought that you are... really beautiful," He mumbles, looking down at his feet. "Even when we were kids I..." He swallows. "I really like you. But I wasn't supposed to kiss you yesterday it... It wasn't supposed to have happened like that..."

I can't believe what he just said. A part of me is telling myself that I'm making this up or that I'm misunderstanding him completely. I feel like my legs are crumbling underneath me, just from how he's looking at me. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it's running towards him, and I don't blame it. I step closer to him, just because it feels right. "How was it supposed to have happened?"

He thinks for a moment. "Up on the astronomy tower. The same time of day, but I wasn't supposed to be drunk. Or in a field during sunset. Or, honestly, anything but what actually happened." He laughs slightly.

Not only does he think I'm beautiful, but he's also thought about kissing me before? I would pinch myself but it seems like my hands are stuck in place, and the only way they can move is towards him. They land on his chest, and I push myself up on my tiptoes. "How about this, then?" I whisper before pressing my lips onto his. He freezes for a moment, but then he grabs the back of my head and presses me into him even more.

He pulls away for a moment, looking at me. "Yeah, this is better." He mumbles, kissing me again.

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