#and by that i mean he is perfect in every way

[yeyinde]

Brain went brrrrrrrr

Price and the new 141 member getting into an argument. Price is all like if you don't behave ill take you over my knee girl.

She's all like I fucking dare you or you'll have to catch me first or even you don't have the balls.

🫠🫠

i’ve always wanted someone who was super by the book to clash with John “i routinely tell my superiors i’m going to maim/murder/hang them” Price. this gave me the perfect opportunity to do so. 

noncon spanking. abuse of authority. power imbalance. size kink. mean, dom!Price. forced submission.

You have this way of getting under his skin. 

An impossible itch. No matter how many times he picks and prods at his flesh, you worm beneath the dermis, burrowing deep. Sitting pretty against his goddamn bones. Festering. 

Incurable. 

He turns to vice to stem the irritation. Cigars. Whiskey. His hand shoved down his trousers like he's a fuckin' boy and not a man on the wrong side of forty. 

Thinking of you—of breaking that smart mouth of yours on his cock. 

It's the way you saunter around with your head held high, balancing golden eggs on your crown, that irks him something awful. The patronising drawl when you huffily remind him that what he's doing is breaking seven, no, ten, different laws, Price. You can't just do whatever you want, there are rules—

And that's the crux of it. 

A difference of ideas. Experience. You still see the world in shades of black and white. Good and bad. Unwilling to acknowledge that the line between is saturated and blurred. A putrid muck that traps all. Bogish. 

He knew it was a mistake when they sent him your file, asked if he needed the additional help. Hostage negotiator. He's heard of you. By the fucking book. You recite passages like it's gospel, turning printed words into a knife. A terrible fit for a team that works in the pivotal no man's land you claim doesn't exist. 

Yet—

He takes you on. Brings you in. Buries his anger at your fucking gall deep in his chest where it rots. Grows. Swallows down the rage, apoplectic fury, when you undermine him at every opportunity, citing laws and regulations like it's a fucking prayer. 

A calamitous decision, he knows. Terrible. But—

Despite it all, you're good at what you do. Brilliant. A budding rose germinating in fecund soil. You'll grow into something wild, won't you? Something untamed. 

Under his hands, you'll bloom the prettiest. He knows this deep in his bones. But—

“You're breaking the rules, Captain—”

—pedantic little thing, aren't you? 

Obediently following the wrong master. 

It irks him. He's been known to step on the toes of his superior officers for less, caustic words hissing foul from between his teeth. 

But unlike them, you're worth something. Even as the moral antithesis to his utilitarian dogma, he sees your potential. How you can shape this world dangling on a brittle thread if you lay down your senseless principles and follow him. Listen to him. 

But of course, you don't. 

And he supposes he ought to have known better. It's dripping gasoline over an open flame. The sequence of events is easily premeditated, seen, when you refuse to listen to what he says (“it's against the law, Price!”), walking away from him, his team, the mission, and take matters into your own, morally righteous hands. Bringing his underhanded methods to the desk of your superior officer, demanding he be investigated for crimes. The result is a loose warning from someone in a suit several sizes too big for them, and your fury when he pulls you back, has you assigned to another mission with the 141, with himself. Preens at your glower when you march back into his office, into his hands. 

In the fallout, he has no one to blame but himself, really. Anyone could have seen this coming. But the thing about shirking his morality in favour of a better outcome—above all else—is that he doesn't have to. 

And so, he doesn't. 

No. He blames you. 

(How perfect for him, then, that there's no one on base except you and him.)

“If you think I'm not going to report you again if you do something illegal, Price, you're wrong.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at your fucking audacity. 

"Better watch that mouth of yours, Sergeant, or you won't like what happens next." 

His palm itches when you look up, offering him a slow, feline blink. Leonine eyes creasing at the corners. 

"And what is that, sir? I'm just doing my job—" it's whispered breathlessly, all faux professionalism even as jest leaks down your brow. They pinch, then. Drawing together in a mockery of confusion. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?" 

"What is that, mm?" He mocks, arms folding over his chest. He has to breathe through his nose for a moment. Gather himself together before he does something reckless, something like— 

It's the defiant little jut of your chin that does him in. That unravels this fraying knot of control until threads slip through his fingers. Falling too fast for him to clench down on them. 

He's threatened his superiors for far less. His kin, teammates. You have no one to blame but yourself for this, really. No one at all when he pulls his hand from where it's tucked under his armpit, curling rough, worn fingers around your wrist. Pulls you close, wrenching you into his chest until your nose bumps the buckle of his vest. 

"'m'gonna take you over my fuckin' knee, is what's going to happen." 

Your swallow is a gunshot. “You—you wouldn't dare—”

He leans in close, closer still. Breath scorching over your cheek. Preening when you bare your little teeth at him. “Wanna bet on that, Sergeant?” 

It's easier than he would have expected to wrangle you over his knee, pinning you down with an arm across your lower back. The height of his chair keeps your front bent, belly pressed against his thigh. Ass seated perfectly in his lap. Precious gem. 

He hums low in his throat, teeth sinking into the butt of his cigar as he locks you tight against him. Grabbing your wrist, twisting it up behind your back. Holding steady. A warning. 

The dangerous twinge in your bone stills you. 

One wrong move and he'd snap it in half. 

This has you taking a different approach, legs falling limp over the armrest. Head dropping over the other side. Malleable in his grasp—however artificial it is.

“Price—” you breathe, winded. Panic on a spindle. “What are you—what do you think you're doing—?”

He hums, mouth tense around the cigar. Words muffled, slurred. “What I should have done a long time ago.” 

“What—hey!”

Your words pepper off into a choked scream when his other hand falls to the hem of your pants, grabbing the fabric in his fist. The shock fades into indignation. Anger. He tastes it in the air as your hips squirm, legs kicking at nothing. Furious little growls spilling from your lips as you thrash, unconcerned by the ache in your bone. 

“Better keep still, love,” he taunts, mouth curling over his teeth as he twists his hand high, higher, up the small of your back until your fingers brush the skin between your shoulder blades. Any more and he'll break it—

“I'm going to fucking—!” It ends on a whine. A whimper. The pain makes you shiver. “Fuck, fuck—stop, stop, ow, stop—!”

“Not a fan of a little pain then, mm?” 

Your breath is ragged. Paints the air in a fine mist of defeat. He has you. The only option out of this is breaking your bone, a threshold no one is willing to cross. 

Price purses his lips back around the cigar, inhaling once, thrice, before he slips his fingers out of the hem of your trousers, reaching up to take hold of the cigar. It's all so matter-of-fact. So nonchalant when he places it in the ashtray. When he brings his heavy, warm hand back to your ass, curling his fingers beneath the fabric. Pulling. Tugging. 

They come off easier than he'd expected. A harsh tug, and the cleft of your ass is revealed. Plush skin curving enticingly as he rips them down to mid-thigh—panties and all. 

The shock fades back into indignation. You hiss something foul under your breath that makes him huff out a chuckle. 

“Not really in the position for that, are you, love?” 

“Shut up—”

He likes the way you sound like this. Feral. Furious. There's ash in your throat. It blots soot around each word, giving them weight. Gone is the woman who barged into his office, sniffing like you smelled something foul. Backing him into a corner. Sputtering in his face about rules. Regulation. 

Now you're bare-assed, panting, in his lap. Small little fawn in the maw of a bear. But oh, do you fight back—

Teeth bared, indignation bleeding into embarrassment, blotting pink in the whites of your eyes.

The sight is hewn into his hindbrain. 

“Look at you,” he purrs, petting your cheeks. “Been beggin’ to be bent over my knee since you got here, haven't you?” 

“Begging? Don't be—ahh!”

He brings his hand down with a small huff, eyes glued to your flesh. Watching it shake under his hand. The width of one swallowing up an entire cheek. So big is he that you're nearly made infinitesimal in his clutch. The thought makes him groan.

You squirm more in shock than discomfort. Head craning over your shoulder, eyes misting over with tears. Glaring at him. 

“What the fuck, Price!”

He strokes your skin, feeling the heat of your flesh bleed through his palm. Resilient little thing, aren't you? He huffs again, blood buzzing. Electric. There's a kindling fire in his guts. Embers sparking, catching. 

He can't deny how badly he's been wanting to have you like this. Craving your tears, your agony, your submission.

“Count,” he barks out, rough. Abrasive. “You're getting ten. Count ‘em for me, and if you miss one, I'm adding two more.”

“You're crazy, you're—!”

His hand comes down again. The impact shakes the fat of your ass. The strike makes you yowl, thrashing to get away. You don't get very far, still trapped in his hold. The threat of a broken bone keeps you from lashing out too wildly, and all you can really do is sit in his lap, and take it—

The notion has him groaning low in his throat. Something wicked spooling in his veins. Wanting. The sight of you heaving, bare-assed, and begging for mercy unleashes something inside of him. Something primal. Starving. 

Price takes a breath to steady himself, head buzzing. Heart pounding. It feels like the euphoria of nicotine—all bliss, sedation. Ease. 

Cathartic. 

“I said count,” he rasps, words cinder in his chest. Smoke. Dragged up from that burning pyre in his belly. Nocuous, hungry. “That's an order, Sergeant.” 

His hand is scorching against your skin. Thoughts turning over themselves as you hiccup in his lap. So pretty, he thinks, eyes flitting over to you. Taking in the sight of your shock, your denial. It tastes like fine wine on his tongue. Heady. 

“Here comes one—”

“One?”

“I told you, didn't I?” His nail rakes across your skin, cruel. Mean. Something preens when you gasp. Your pain perfuming the air. “M’addin’ two more if you don't count. Thought your speciality was listenin’?”

You scowl, twisting back to level him with an awful sneer. “Oh, fuck you—!”

His hand comes down again, harder this time. Vicious. The scream is tangled in your throat, gagged. He feels pleasure—dark and ugly—bloom in his chest, dripping, liquid, down the length of his spine. The twist of agony on your face is beatific. 

“Not gonna count?” He taunts, pinching your inflamed flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “We're gonna be here all day at this rate, love.”

He leans down, broad chest curling over the small of your back, hand cupped possessively over your cheeks. “But maybe you want that, mm? Maybe all this, mhm, insubordination has just been for show. You wanted this. Wanted to be taken over my knee—”

“You're wrong. I haven't—” it tapers off into a squeak when he pinches your flesh again. 

Price pulls back, breathes shallowly through his nose. 

“You and that smart fuckin' mouth. Told you it was gonna get you in trouble—”

He doesn't wait. His hand rears, and comes down with a loud smack that echoes in the sparse office he has you trapped inside. Your howl races alongside it, curling up the walls. Beautiful in all its agony. 

“Christ—” it's a dagger to his resolve. You sound so fucking good howling like this. Oscillating between feral anger and pain, hissing vitriol between clenched teeth. Choking on sobs. 

The first few are experimental. Testing the waters. Feeling. You're combative during it all. Fighting. Screaming. Each strike is uncounted, echoed only with a plea for help. One he knows won't come—

The only person on base is his Lieutenant. Ghost knows better than to barge in on his affairs. 

“No one's comin’, love,” he grunts, sweat beading along his hairline, dripping down his temple. The room heats along with the blood in his veins, stifling and oppressive. He reinforces each hit with more strength, increasing the tempo until you're screaming on his lap, begging for mercy, mercy, please, please, Price stop, stop—

Your skin raises with each new strike. Swelling. Becoming inflamed. The perfect imprint of his handprint sits on each cheek, edges intumescent. The globes shake, shuddering deliciously under each hit. 

He gets to eleven before you break. Tears streaming down your face, voice a threadbare whisper. Hoarse from screaming. 

His hand rains down, slaps your left cheek so hard it stings his hand. Burns. You whimper. Mewling. Squirming on his lap, and then—

“O–one—”

He grunts, feels himself thicken in his trousers. “Good girl.” 

You shudder, body breaking out in goosebumps. “Price—”

“Ah, ah, love. You're not allowed to speak unless you're counting.”

He hits you again, cock throbbing when you tense up, sniffling. Grinding out a soft two between trembling lips. 

You don't break the way he wants you to. There's a glare on your face despite the tears, the sniffles. A defiance that burns over the bridge of your nose. 

But that's fine. He has eight more strikes to ruin you, doesn't he? 

He sets to it with a low moan, your pelvis pressing taut to his tumid cock, the friction raging in his guts. 

But that, he finds, isn't really the point. No. The pleasure, the arousal, is secondary to the way you fall to pieces at his hand. Flesh stinging his palm with each loud smack that rings out sharply in the room. Uneven breaths. Shuddering little ah-ah-ahs that tumble out through clenched teeth. 

It's addictive, this. Therapeutic. 

There's static in his head. White noise. It renders everything else mute. Moot. Molasses drips down, thick and entrenching, congealing over every churning thought in the back of his head. There's a sense of peace, ease, he hasn't felt in years. In decades. 

He feels his belly knot each time your ass jiggles, skin bulging up from the trauma of being hit so harshly. Chafed under his palm. Welts forming in the shape of his hand. A tattoo you'll have for weeks when he's through with you. Aching each time you try to sit. And fuck—

You'll think of him. Of this. Being taken over his goddamn knee like the bad fucking girl you are. Broken in over his lap. Helpless. Submissive. 

The whimpers fade, replaced with shallow hiccups. Your throat is torn. Raw, ruined, by your screams, yowls. Each rasping whine sends jolts of pleasure down his spine. Liquid want molten in his marrow. 

“S–seven, nngh—”

The moan slips out—scorched, bleached—and drills deep into his loins. 

He peels his gaze away from your blistered skin, glancing at your face, but you duck from his view. Hide. Dropping your head over the armrest. Evading him. 

It's new, this. This meekness. 

You were so combative, so feral before. His gaze rakes down the expanse of your spine, over the curve of your cheeks, before settling, hot and heavy, at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. You squirm in his lap, thighs sliding together. Rubbing. It's no different from before when he'd spank you, but—

He catches it. 

It glints in the soft light when you move, and he feels something dark, ruinous, curl in the tar-stained fibrils of his chest. Congealing in the crevasses. Hardening. 

Price flicks his tongue out, swiping over his lower lip. The bristles of his beard graze the soft flesh, prickling across it. His throat is suddenly dry. Parched. 

His hand comes down again, notably softer than the other hits he subjected you to. Almost—

Tender. 

This isn't meant to hurt. Not this one. 

He strokes his finger over your skin, cock throbbing with the rasping gasp that spills—a twisted amalgamation of pain, skin still smarting, burning to the touch, and—

His lashes flutter. Nostrils flaring. 

Your slick, wet, between your inner thighs. 

He slides his hand down, down, until your ass cheek is cupped in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger. Nestled tight. A perfect fit. The sight of your skin—soft, so soft—against his bearish, hirsute paw is sickeningly addictive. He grunts, pressing his thumb into the crease between your cheek and thigh. 

“P–Price—”

And then he pulls, moaning deep in his chest as he peels the fat of your ass away, unveiling your cunt to his rapacious gaze. Fuck—

“What’s this?” He taunts, breathless. Pinched. You squirm, trying to press your thighs together. Hiding your pussy from his scorching stare. He doesn't let you. “Gettin’ off on me spankin’ your arse?” 

“N–no, I'm—”

He pushes his thumb up, sliding it over your skin. Gathers your slick on the tip. “Don't lie to me, mm. You're fuckin' soaked.”

The air is punched from his lungs. Spills out in a wretched grunt. In the vacuum, something grows. Knots. Festering inside his chest. Animalistic. Primal. There's an itch in the back of his head. 

He lets go of your arm, knows you won't run. Won't try to escape. No. 

You're a good girl, aren't you? One who does what they're told. Follows orders. It tangles in the soporific slurry of his head, pitching a bivouac of need when you bring your arm down, curling it through the gap of the armrest, holding tight. 

Bracing yourself. 

His hum breaks in his throat. He drags his hand away from your cunt, reaching for the snuffed cigar idling in the ashtray. There's a fever in his veins. It makes his hand tremble. Shake. He needs the blunted drag of nicotine to quench this heady anticipation blooming in his guts. A brumous storm gyring inside him, an incipient maelstrom of want thickening. Intensifying. Threatening to spill over. 

He needs something to steady himself before he tears into you like a beast—

You cock your head over your shoulder, staring at him with eyes drenched in midnight ink. There's a flicker across your tear-stained expression. Something coy. Feline. Leonine. 

There's nothing said. Nothing needs to be. He finds what he's looking for in the fracture of your mien, and scoffs under his breath at your sheer gall. Little fuckin' minx. 

Tobacco proves to be a paltry facsimile when he draws in a bursting mouthful. The restive glow of it dulled under the adrenaline coursing through his veins, heady. Syrupy. A roaring deluge of anticipation broiling in the balmy air, crackling around him like a storm cresting over the horizon. Ozone saturates in the thickening atmosphere. 

Something will break. Shatter. 

He tenses, waiting for the first stormcloud to breach, and drops his hand back to your tender ass. Stroking over the raised welts just to make you gasp. Your hips flex under the shocks of pain riveting down your spine, undulating in his lap. Pitched perfectly over his cock. 

His breath shudders through a needlepoint. The friction is electric. 

In petty retaliation—and just to see you squirm—he trails his knuckles over your heated skin, luxuriating in the way you shiver. Head falling back down over the armrest, beautifully alluring in your vulpine submission. His fingers dip between the cleft of your cheeks, feeling the slickness sticking to your soft, sensitive skin. Soaked between your thighs. Wretched girl. 

His index and middle finger slide over your slit, parting your folds. He feels the small pulses of your drenched hole against his flesh when he slides over it with the press of his fingers. Eager little thing.  

He hums under his breath at the sight of his hand seated across your hand, fingers shoved between the globes of your smarting ass. Soft and tender to worn and gnarled. The cropping of dark hair over his knuckles, his hand, against your bare skin is obscene. The picture of sin with your stricken flesh and his thick veins. The contrast curdled in the back of his head, morphing into something ugly and wanting. 

Idly, he thinks of making you bounce your sore ass on his lap later, your pussy swallowing up his fat cock. Taking it all the way to the root. Over and over again. Breaking you on it until you're begging for mercy, until this little attitude of yours is crushed between his teeth. 

Slick gathers against the rough pads of his fingers, drenching them. The hair on his knuckles is matted down, wet with your arousal. Naughty girl. He'll make you pay for that. 

And for the puddle seeping into his trousers. 

You mewl when he slips, sliding over your clit. The noise spilling molten over your lips, bludgeoning into his loins. 

He drags in another mouthful of smoke. Lets it rot between his teeth as he drops the cigar into the ashtray once more, attention riveting to the slip-slide of your slick thighs rubbing together for friction against your aching clit. Cunt pulsing needily against his hand. 

You haven't learned a damn thing at all, have you? 

Smoke funnels out of his nostrils when he growls. “Spoiled, aren't you? Need to be taught a lesson in respect.” 

“I, ah, am respectful, Captain—” 

He sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. This lippiness of yours grates on his nerves. He wants you begging for mercy, limp in his hold. Pretty doll. Waiting obediently for him to put you back together again. Soft and submissive at his heel. 

“Got three more to go, love.” You shiver when he strokes over your ass. Petting gently with wet, tacky fingers. “If you're a good girl and take it for me, I'll play with your pretty cunt, mm. You'd like that, wouldn't you?” 

Price brings his hand down, grunting when you moan out his name. Sharp and needy. Your plaintive posturing is a spark inside a tinderbox. 

“E–eight.” 

The next one is harder, sharper. The force twinges his joints. Rattles through his bone. 

It's unexpected, and the pain makes you yowl, body drawing tight like a bow. There's no pleasure when it's like that. No friction against your cunt. It's just—

“Price—!” You yelp, shrill and distressed. The lead up to this has been child's play. A soft hand to tender a nervous mare. 

His old man taught him to never strike with the whip first but to wean them slowly. 

He waits, humming mockingly to your pettering whimpers as you heave, tremulous, into the air. Shuddering in his grasp at the aftershocks of agony rippling through your body. 

Waits. Waits. And—

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, cooing low and condescending when you gasp, craning your neck to level him with an imploring, pleading stare as you stammer out a frenetic nine in a breathless rush. Tears soak your lashline, clumping them together when you blink through another deluge pooling against the rim. Your lip wobbles. The stream breaks, spilling over. Fresh tears run down your wet, sticky cheeks. 

There's real panic in the whites of your eyes now. That haughty, pedant gleam buried under pyretic desperation. Gone is the coy twist to your lips. The wily little bloom of amusement in your gaze. 

Aw, poor thing. But—

Too late. “You didn't count. You know what that means, love.” 

That knot in his chest unfurls, and leaks acid into his lungs. This want is corrosive. A poison. The sob breaks through your chest. The first thunderclap. He relishes in it. Leans back in his chair to bask in the potency of your unmaking. 

“Good girl,” he husks out, burning lungs spewing black smoke into the air. “Just ten more now, love. Know you can take it for me, can't you?”

Pretty thing. He'll have that haughty attitude snuffed out before the end of the night. Have you begging for his touch, his cock, him, before the sun draws across the horizon. 

Your ruination at his hand. The thought strokes along the kindling smouldering inside of his chest. Burning away at the pyre he's been building since the day he met you. When you looked up at him, pretty in your scorn, and disobeyed his command. Undermined him. So righteous in your fury. A burgeoning flame he wanted nothing more than to snuff out under his heel, and now—

Wide, wet eyes plead with him. “Please, Price. Please, please. I'll be good—I promise I'll be good, sir—”

—ash in the palm of his hand. 

He strokes over your searing flesh, humming softly under his breath. “I know you will, pretty girl—” basks in the hiccup of relief you let out, lets it glue in his ears, echoing over and over again. So sweet. 

He lets your relief live for a moment. Take its first breath of air through aching lungs—

“But I told you, didn't I? That I'd take you over my knee.” Price pats his hand over your cheek, shushing you when you startle, squirming on his lap. 

“Now. Be a good girl and count for me, mm?”

[werecreature-addicted]

Someone who starts to become a little worried that with how rough and animalistic their werewolf partner becomes during sex that they're not really themselves or of human intelligence in the moment.

So in the middle of the act they ask their werewolf to "prove that they're still themselves". The werewolf then proceeds to growl out their partners praises, listing every reason they love them and how much the mean to them. With every word causing them to fuck them even harder and more passionately than before; desperate to give their beloved a time of their life they so clearly deserve.

it's not that you don't love having sex with your boyfriend like this- you love the primal way he takes you growling in pleasure in your ear. it's just you aren't sure that it really is your boyfriend. You love the feeling of his claws digging into your skin as he gropes you and pulls you back against his hips as you weakly try to escape his rough thrusts.

"don't run from me I'm not done with you" he snarls his sharp teeth snapping at your shoulder as he rolls his hips pushing his cock deep enough inside you that your thighs tremble, his full knot pressing against your entrance, not quiet pushing inside of you. he doesn't want to cum yet, he's using your pussy to edge himself. the harsh growl of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

You wonder how much he remembers when he shifts. it always seems to be a bit of a blur when he comes back to his more human side. you reach up and cup his inhuman face as best you can. He presses his face into your hand.

"It's you right?" you ask, huffing a little. he cocks his head to the side a little confused.

"Of course it's me."

"Prove it," you ask. He slows for a moment, still buried deep in your fluttering cunt, he presses his forehead against yours.

"pretty girl, was I too rough with you? do I seem more like a monster than a man right now?" he asks softly, in the softest voice you'd ever heard him use, he hooks one of your legs around his arm and pushes it up to your chest so he can thrust deeper into your much-abused cunt.

"it's me, love, and it's you. god, it's you," he breathes as if you are the most precious thing in the world. "look at you, my pretty thing so perfect for me, love you so much I'm so lucky you're mine, you are mine right? let me hear you say it," he pleads. the soft way that he praises you, the needy way he wants to claim you, this is much more like him, the werewolf that you know and love.

"i'm yours," you say easily, because you are his, mind body, and soul.

[erwinsvow]

is rafe every toxic or mean to shy!reader?

i think so.. maybe in the beginning when he's not as trusting yet and still like opening up to the idea that he has a girl who is completely devoted to him and not playing him or sneaking around... walk w me for this idea its a little stupid but its the best i could think of

you'd been trying your best to be a good girlfriend to rafe—you weren't used to him, the kind of boy he was and life he had. you were more sheltered, a little too trusting when someone was nice and too eager to please.

so he gets a little carried away the first time he gets a glimmer of suspicion. because really, you thought it was harmless, wanting to get to know more about your boyfriend. you thought his closest friends would have answers for you, since his sister never anything nice to say.

you didn't like that—it was beginning to bother you more and more. the rafe that was your boyfriend was nothing like the rafe that sarah always described, and you didn't like how you felt about that either. maybe there was a hidden part of rafe that you hadn't been exposed to yet.

not that you wanted to be exposed to it anyways. you much preferred rafe how he was with you—always gentle and nice, not even raising his voice since you didn't react so well to that. and you, being who you are, knew what you needed to do. keep being a perfect girlfriend for rafe so he would never have to yell at you or get mad.

maybe it's a little fucked up. you don't spend too much time thinking about it, maybe because you don't really care. until you're forced to care, that is.

asking topper and kelce for their numbers seemed innocent to you, seemed like nothing at all. you wanted to know what to get rafe—his birthday was coming up and two whole months of dating him. you figured this was the best way to get some answers without appearing too suspicious—rafe would notice immediately if you went and started having entire conversations with his two friends.

unfortunately you're too sweet for your own good—always have been, always will be. you had smiled shyly and politely thanked them for their numbers, but nervously held off on actually asking them for advice until just today. and the two of them, rafe's friends as they are, are still boys. stupid, immature ones—you knew that much from sarah at least.

rafe picks you up for your date at seven on the dot. normally he comes to the door to get you but this time he doesn't—it doesn't matter since you were waiting by the window anyways. he leans over to open the passenger seat door from the inside for you and you beam up at him.

if you were a little less elated—you might have realized rafe always gets out to open the door for you. he helps you up because his truck is so high and you're a little unsteady in the heels you wear for dates.

you've got it tucked in your little purse—a nice watch, in a little red box. it's vintage and pretty and perfect for rafe. you had put topper and kelce in a groupchat this morning and asked what they thought something nice for rafe would be, something he didn't already have in spades.

you just want to wait until after dinner to surprise him with it—but looking at your silent boyfriend drive to the restaurant, you wonder if you'll get the chance.

he doesn't have to say anything, you can tell something's wrong. your smiling greeting had been met with a quiet hey, with no nickname attached at the end. there was no compliment on your new dress or how pretty your hair looked. and worst of all, he hadn't even smiled in your direction since you got in the car.

you must have done something. rafe never took out his bad moods on you. you just don't know what you did.

rafe parks at the restaurant, and you look straight ahead at the sun setting in the clouds, and then down at your lap instead of at your boyfriend, waiting. waiting for him to say something, waiting to figure out what's gone wrong.

neither of you say anything for what feels like ages. rafe sighs—heavy and with a distinctness, like he's annoyed and angry and though he's not saying it, that it's at you.

"c'mon. we're gonna miss our reservation." you look back at him with parted lips and big eyes. if you were a little more confident, more sure of yourself and not so reliant on others for approval, you would shoot back a witty yet cutting remark. it even burns on your tongue-is that really what you care about right now?

but you're not that girl, never have been and never will be.

"rafe, i'm sorry," you finally say, said with such sincerity you don't think you've ever meant a sentence more. "whatever i did, i'm sorry. you're so upset.. and i don't want to ruin dinner-"

"you apologizin' because you know what you did was wrong? or because you want me to stop bein' mad? which one?"

you're a little dumbfounded—you don't think rafe's ever spoken to you like this the whole time you've know him. and you still don't know what you did.

"no, i.. i don't know what i did. i'm just sorry."

it's pathetic, almost. but you are—hopelessly, pathetically in love. so much so you'll apologize without a reason, that you'll do anything to make your boyfriend stop being upset.

"kid, i-i know we haven't been dating that long, but you can't just go around flirting with my friends. it's just not-"

you don't even hear the end of his sentence. flirting? with rafe's friends? you could barely bring yourself to flirt with rafe, much less his friends.

"when did i do that?" you ask, your made-up face twisted in confusion and concern. "rafe, i would never. ew. no offense to them, i guess. but-"

"so you didn't ask kelce and top for their numbers? both of them?"

"is that you think? that i was flirting?" your spine straightens in your seat, cheeks aflame. "is that what they said to you?" suddenly rafe's concerns mean very little—had you given kelce and topper such an impression?

this was bad. this was very bad. that was sarah's ex-boyfriend, and you certainly didn't want your best friend thinking you were flirting with him. or kelce—who you were trying to get set up with your other friend.

"they said you asked for their numbers. that shit's not fun to hear from your friends, kid. s'fucking embarrassing-"

your face feels hotter, if possible. your cheeks are wet with tears, eyes burning with more. it is embarrassing. you should have known that, should have thought it through. of course rafe's friends told him, you hadn't told them to keep it a secret. swallowing painfully, you try to look back at rafe again but it just makes you want to sob.

"i'm sorry rafe," you say, hating how it comes out in between hiccups with fresh tears. "i-i was just-"

"just what?" rafe's tone makes you want to cry even harder. you rummage through your little purse—stupidly realizing you hadn't even brought a wallet, just your lipgloss and rafe's gift. you take out the tiny box, handing it to rafe.

"i-i just wanted to ask them their opinion. what to get you f-for our two months," you hiccup again, watching rafe stare down at the box. "i'm sorry. i'm really sorry, i would never-"

"shit. kid, i-they didn't tell me any of that."

"i just asked today. and i-i didn't tell them to keep it a secret, so it's my fault and i'm really sorry."

you probably sound pathetic—you certainly feel that way. you wouldn't be surprised if rafe turned the car around and dropped you back home.

"hey. hey. look at me. m'sorry, kid. i didn't know any of that. and this is a really sweet gift, okay? i like it. i love it."

you keep blinking back at rafe, unable to do anything else. you still feel stupid. rafe leans over, wiping away some your tears with his hand. you rest your head against his hand when it does it.

"are you still mad?" you ask quietly, still unsure what the answer will be.

"no, baby, m'not bad. i'm sorry."

"okay. i'm sorry too." you stay silent still, unsure what to say. this is the first time you've ever been in a situation like this with rafe. "i think we missed our reservation."

"yeah kid. pizza and ice cream it is."

"no. you can't wear your new watch for pizza and ice cream."

"sure i can. m'never taking this off."

[lostfracturess]

Hi Nici! Not sure if you take these types of requests (more a plea for the soul at this point sigh) but is there a possibility that you write one of your amazing short one-shot where reader is having a bad body image day and Satoru comfort-to-fuck the hell out of these silly thoughts? God do I crave some body worship from of this man. Please, please, please?

18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content

boyfriend!gojo who wakes up to you avoiding eye contact and tugging at the hem of your oversized t-shirt. he knows that look, knows the subtle self-doubt clouding your eyes.

boyfriend!gojo who wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on you shoulder and murmuring, "what's troubling you, love?"

boyfriend!gojo who listens patiently as you voices you insecurities, never interrupting or dismissing you feelings. he understands that these doubts are real to you.

boyfriend!gojo who gently cups you face in his hands, tilting it up so their eyes meet. "look at me," he says softly, his thumbs tracing the curve of you cheeks.

boyfriend!gojo who tells you with unwavering sincerity, "you are the most beautiful woman i have ever seen. every curve, every freckle, every inch of you is perfect to me."

boyfriend!gojo who kisses away the tears that well up in you eyes, each kiss a silent promise of love and acceptance.

boyfriend!gojo who knows that one day won't erase all you insecurities, but he's committed to loving you through them. he'll be you constant reminder of how truly beautiful you are, inside and out.

boyfriend!gojo who suggests you go out for ice cream, knowing your favorite parlor has the best chocolate fudge sundae.

boyfriend!gojo who pulls you into a playful twirl as you walk down the street, holding your hand tightly and stealing kisses whenever he gets the opportunity.

boyfriend!gojo who orders your favorite sundae with extra whipped cream and sprinkles, a mischievous grin on his face as he watches your eyes light up with childlike delight.

boyfriend!gojo who leans in close as you share the sundae, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "you know, you look absolutely stunning today."

boyfriend!gojo who sees the surprise in your eyes, followed by a flicker of doubt. he gently takes your hand, intertwining your fingers as he looks deeply into your eyes.

boyfriend!gojo who tells you with unwavering sincerity, "i mean it. the way the sunlight catches your hair, the way your smile lights up your whole face... you're breathtaking."

boyfriend!gojo who continues to shower you with compliments throughout the day.

nsfw

boyfriend!gojo who, as the day goes on, can tell that something is still bothering you. he decides to take matters into his own hands (and other parts) to help ease your worries.

boyfriend!gojo who leads you to the bedroom back at home, where he begins to undress you slowly, taking his time to show you just how much he adores every part of you.

boyfriend!gojo who kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as he holds you close.

boyfriend!gojo who, before things go any further, stops and looks into your eyes. "i want you to forget all your doubts right now," he says firmly. "you are amazing, and i am so lucky to be with you. remember that, okay?"

boyfriend!gojo who kisses you again, harder this time, as he guides you towards the bed to worship your body, taking his time to explore every curve and angle.

boyfriend!gojo who kisses you fiercely, his tongue probing deep into your mouth as his hands roam over your body.

boyfriend!gojo who pushes you back onto the bed, spreading your legs wide apart. he kneels down between them and presses his lips to your inner thigh.

boyfriend!gojo who wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you open wide as he slowly, tantalizingly, kisses his way up to your core, his breath warm against your skin.

boyfriend!gojo who, without warning, he dives in, his tongue expertly circling your clit. you gasp, arching your back as he sucks and licks, building you up higher and higher.

boyfriend!gojo who slides two fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out in rhythm with his tongue. you moan loudly, grabbing onto the sheets as he curves them upward, hitting that spot that makes you writhe underneath him.

boyfriend!gojo who, just when you think you can't take it anymore, slows down, drawing out the tension until you are practically begging for release.

boyfriend!gojo who has you orgasm in mere minutes when as he resumes his pace, crying out his name as you come undone beneath him. but he's not done yet.

boyfriend!gojo who crawls up the bed, positioning himself above you. his cock is rock hard and already leaking pre-cum. he rubs the tip along your wet folds, teasing you before pushing inside.

boyfriend!gojo who stretches you in the most delicious way possible. he starts slow, giving you time to adjust to his size. he took his time, moving slowly and deliberately, making sure to hit every sensitive spot of yours.

boyfriend!gojo who pays careful attention to every reaction, every sigh and moan that escapes your lips. whenever he senses a hint of discomfort or insecurity, he pauses and shifts his approach, determined to banish any negative thoughts from your mind.

boyfriend!gojo who soon picks up speed, thrusting hard and fast, pounding into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. you match his pace, wrapping your legs around his waist as you pull him deeper inside of you.

boyfriend!gojo who loves the sound of flesh slapping flesh, mixed with your cries and moans. nothing gets him off more than your voice really.

boyfriend!gojo who knows exactly which angel to take, what pace to pick to have you orgasm again in mere minutes.

boyfriend!gojo who groans loudly as he releases inside of you, pulsing deep within your walls. exhausted and spent, you collapse onto the bed together, panting heavily.

boyfriend!gojo who looks over at you, his expression soft and gentle. "did that help chase away your doubts?" he asks quietly.

boyfriend!gojo who gins when you say yes, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "good. because you are beautiful and deserve to feel nothing but happiness, my love."

boyfriend!gojo who cuddles with you in bed afterwards, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest and planting soft kisses on your forehead, your cheeks and your lips.

boyfriend!gojo who whispers sweet nothings in your ear. he tells you how much you mean to him, how beautiful you are, and how lucky he is to have you in his life.

boyfriend!gojo who plays with your hair as you lie in bed together. he gently runs his fingers through your curls, untangling any knots until you fall asleep, holding you close.

author's note: sorry that your request was in my inbox for so long, and that i didn't write a full story bc that would take forever too, but i tired to write a little story in headcanons. hope you enjoy, felt very soft today haha :)) <33 headcanons m.list

[miss-fanfictions]

Sundays at the Library | Spencer Reid x Reader

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Spencer talks to the sweet librarian at his new library and slowly Sundays become his favorite day of the week.

Warnings] Cursing, creepy guy, misunderstandings (but its cute I promise), written from Spencer's POV

Word Count] 8.9k

Author's Note] This is my first fic here! I'm planning on doing a few more parts to this, so this is only the beginning 🙃

The first time Spencer saw you, the encounter wasn’t anything special. 

If he wasn’t working, he was reading, and because he can read 20,000 thousand words per minute, he needed new books often. Not even his FBI salary could afford the amount of books he consumed in a month and his cozy apartment certainly couldn’t contain them all. Already his bookcases were spilling out onto nearby surfaces. So to quench his constant need for new books, Spencer borrowed books from the library. However, since the one near his apartment closed just a week ago, he had to find a new one. That led him to drive to the library ten minutes away. 

It was larger than the one down the street from his apartment—it had a full three floors. Beyond the double doors, he followed two velvet rope barriers onto the main floor of the library, wandering past a grand front desk to his left to where the room divided into two sections and the barriers ended. In the left section, beside the desk, there were a couple computers set up, as well as two printers and a side wall dedicated to DVDs. In the other section there were tables and chairs set up for quiet studying, as well as more comfortable lounges for reading. Behind those two sections started the book shelves, nearly ceiling high and organized via genre and then further alphabetized. When he ascended the staircase at the back of the main floor, he found the upper levels were fully dedicated to rows of shelving containing books, interspersed with a few tables and lounges for reading. 

 He spent approximately 45 minutes getting the layout of the library, as large as it was, and finding the books he wanted to read. Of course, he got a range of books. Two books on psychology, a mathematical textbook, and another two books based in the sciences. A bit of light reading, really, just to occupy his time at home during a busy caseload week. 

He balanced the heavy books awkwardly in his arms as he made his way to the front desk, practically dropping them onto the counter. His lips twisted up in embarrassment, glancing around to see if anyone was disturbed by the loud clatter. When his eyes turned back to the desk, they met the bespeckled ones of you, the librarian, seated behind the counter. They were wide behind the frames, doe-like and startled by the noise. He winced and stuttered out an apology.

Too often he embarrassed himself due to his clumsiness. Over the years, Spencer got a lot better at the shooting range, but he still couldn’t run a mile without tripping a few times, or be able to participate in sports, and he didn’t even want to think about his driving. JJ often compared the experience of being in his passenger seat to riding shotgun with her senile grandmother. No matter what he did, the awkwardness crept in and all he could do was apologize. He didn’t mean to startle the nice librarian who he would seeing every week for the foreseeable future. 

“It’s fine,” your voice was a gentle whisper, perfect for the quiet of the library. You closed the book on your lap and placed it out of sight under the counter, standing up to help him. That’s when he could take you in completely, with your long flowy skirt and oversized sweater. Perhaps a shy attempt to battle the chill running through the library, or maybe a purposeful effort to hide yourself away from prying eyes. He could tell—despite your attire—that you were his age or maybe a little younger. You lacked the wrinkles, grays, and even the weathered dullness associated with age. Your hair was done up messily, effortlessly, and his eyes tracked your chewed up fingernails as you tucked a few strands behind your ears, out of the way of your eyesight. 

He thought you were plain and shy. The soft pastels and neutrals that colored your clothes and the fact the garments covered you so entirely, made you blend into the background. Had he not needed to speak to you directly, he might not have noticed you tucked behind the desk, folded up in your chair with your nose deep in a book. 

“Can I check these out for you?” You asked him, and he almost missed it due to both his staring and your airy cadence. 

“Oh, uh, yes,” he said, then quickly added. “And a library card, please. I’m new to this library.”

“I’ll just need an ID then,” you held out your hand while he rummaged through his wallet for his state ID, and when he placed it into your palm he was careful not to touch your hand. It was less about you as a person as it was his disdain for germs. 

You went about clicking and typing at the computer to the side of the desk, face plain as if whatever you were doing you had done a thousand times. Your nimble fingers only stuttered when you glanced back at him, catching his eyes as he watched you before he darted them away from your face, caught. Quickly, you grabbed the mouse, clicking only three more times before handing back his ID. He was careful not to touch your hand or meet your eyes as he took it back. 

He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with his staring, he had a habit of it, always trying to profile. But you were just a meek librarian, and there was no reason to take note of your behavior. You went about printing out a physical copy of his new library card, and he opened one of his books to occupy himself as you did so. 

When you turned back to him, you scanned a plastic card before offering it to him with a small smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled as you went about scanning the books on the counter with the same barcode reader. You were on the fourth book when your brows creased and you looked back up at him. 

“Are you studying?” You asked, the words sudden as if you couldn’t hold the thought off your lips. 

“No, this is just some light reading,” he answered politely, because it was. Though he forgot that was maybe not normal, because you giggled at his reply. 

The sound brought his eyes to your lips, the way they parted to let the breathy noise out. It was a unique giggle, though he supposed everyone’s is, but something about it suited you so completely. It was soft, and when he glanced around the library to see that no one else had heard it, he thought it was also just for him. There was no taunting, just joy that you emitted in the most delicate of sounds. If only he could understand what he did to extract it from you. 

“Right,” You said jokingly, and then he thought maybe you didn’t believe him, but he didn’t get a chance to assure you he was being truthful before you finished checking out the books. “Here you go, have a nice day, Spencer.”

He hesitated, thrown off by your use of his name, but cleared his throat and collected his books nonetheless. He thanked you and mumbled a brief goodbye as he did so, not looking back as he rushed out of the library. When he got to his car, he used a pack of disinfectant wipes on the books and set them up in his passenger seat, thoughts of the little librarian withering away to the casework waiting for him at work tomorrow.

—

He finished the books quickly, in only two days actually, but thankfully most of his time was taken up by his work. In his remaining free hours, he resorted to rereading a few books on his shelves. On Sunday, he collected his library books and drove the ten minutes back to his new library, exactly one week since his last visit. 

The inside was chilly and smelled like old paper and leather. There weren't many people he could see on the main floor, a few of what looked like college students spread out studying and some preteens huddled on the computers, whispering snarks and giggles. He walked up to the front desk, following the rug and the velvet rope barriers that led right to it from the entrance. This time he didn’t pass by the desk, but stopped at it to place down his books—quietly.

Your familiar framed eyes looked up at him, just as doe-like as surprise crossed them right before a smile took hold. Again, you closed the book in your lap, though this time Spencer caught a glimpse of its orange and yellow cover before you hid it from sight. He couldn’t make out the title. “Back so soon?”

It had been exactly a week since he’d seen you, and though he had not thought of you much since then, Spencer was incapable of forgetting a face. You looked just as you did last week—messy updo, baggy clothes, bare face. It seemed that was your natural state, or at least what you wore to work, but what Spencer wore to work was pretty much his normal wardrobe and he worked in the FBI, not a library.

“Yes, I need to return these books,” he told you, returning your smile with a quirk of his lips and placing his library card on top of the stack of books. 

When your eyes roamed back down from his to the five books, your brows furrowed. “Give up on studying then?” You asked, scanning the books back into the system. 

For a moment, Spencer was confused, then he recalled every word of your last interaction, and realized you still thought he checked the books out to study them, likely for some graduate classes, given his age. “No, I wasn’t studying them. I just needed a few books for casual reading after work.”

You paused once you turned to the computer, looking at him down your glasses. “Casual reading?” Your eyes went back between the thick books and his face, a smirk of disbelief growing. “You read all these books in a week?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. 

“For fun?” You had a skeptical eyebrow quirked.

“That’s what casual reading normally implies.” Spencer furrowed his brows at your line of questioning. Maybe most people wouldn’t read such topics simply for fun, but why would he lie about that? 

At that, you giggled again, a bird’s song, and resumed clicking at your computer. Your gentle laugh tickled something deep in his chest. Again, there was no malice or ill intent to it, not any that he could see behind your genuine eyes and smile. You simply thought he was a funny guy, and no one ever thought that of Spencer. He was too awkward, or too serious, or even too annoying to be fun. 

You took the stack of books in your arms, the pile reaching right up to your chin, and walked them to a cart behind you. When you turned back, you were still smiling sweetly at him. “Your light reading has been checked back in.” You slid his library card across the counter.

He plucked the card back off it with a thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his sweater vest. For a moment, he debated telling you about his PhDs, his eidetic memory, and maybe even his genius IQ because Spencer always felt the need to prove himself—to state facts—because he wasn’t the funny guy. He was very serious and all the things he was telling you weren’t just silly jokes. Then he worried he might wipe the smile right off your face, and he couldn’t let himself do that. So instead he gave you a stiff nod and continued into the library.

. . . Only to spin right back around, fist awkwardly pressed against his lips. “Oh, also, what is the maximum amount of books I could have checked out at once?”

You had just cracked the spine of your book again when you looked back up at him, a swirling look of confusion on your face. “Ten books, but you don’t have any out so I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

Spencer gave another nod, spinning back around on his heels and taking himself right up to the second floor of the library. He spent approximately 37 minutes collecting books from around the library, setting them aside at tables as he weaved through the rows of bookcases for the different genres. A wealth of knowledge in all areas was useful for his job, and also just for him personally. He found great pride in knowing many things, as annoying as others might find his incessant info-dumping. 

When he finished, he took a stack of books from the table and carried them down from the second floor, slowly stepping down the stairs and craning his neck around the stack to watch his steps. He could be uncoordinated at his best, so there was no need to tempt fate into sending him tumbling down the staircase by not paying attention. 

After successfully making it down, he took long strides to the main desk and set the stack down on the counter. Of course, you looked up at him again, however skipped surprise and jumped into an inviting smile. You closed your book and stood up, taking in the books he set in front of you. “Another five to check out then?”

“No, actually, I’ll be right back.” He turned away so fast he almost missed the way your smile faded and you leaned over the counter to watch him ascending the stairs again, spindly legs taking them two at a time.

He grabbed hold of the second tower of books, nearly dropping the top one in his haste to get back to you. After that he continued to take the stairs carefully even as he felt your eyes on him. Maybe especially because he felt your eyes on him, because if you watched him fall down the stairs he’d have to drive an additional ten minutes away to find another new library, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes anymore. 

Beside the first stack on the counter, he set the second, then placed his library card between them. “This is it, I promise.”

Again, you glanced between him and the books, eyes bugging behind their glass shelter. After a moment or so, as if you were making sure he was serious (he was), you began scanning his card and the books. Despite the larger quantity of books, you were slower as you ran the barcodes on the back, taking the time to read the titles and authors. 

“Are you a graduate student?” You asked, looking at a book on human genealogy. 

Spencer twiddled his thumbs. “No, I’m finished with school for now, but I might go back for another PhD in the future when I have more time,” he answered honestly, the words flowing out quickly, even though he wasn’t sure why he was telling you that. Only about two percent of the U.S. population has a PhD, and an even slimmer percent had more than one. So it was an unusual thing to say.

He thought you might laugh again, or even question him, but you simply hummed and moved onto the next book, chewing your lip. “I’m in a graduate program for poetry,” your voice was quiet, as required by the library environment, but more so than usual, like you seemed embarrassed to share that information. 

It made sense you were a graduate student working in a library while earning your MA in writing. He wondered if you had plans for your degree beyond getting a slight pay increase as a librarian. There was a career as an author, or maybe you wanted to be a teacher or a professor, he could see you doing that, standing in front of a class in your skirts and sweaters pointing at a chalkboard with a ruler, though that image was outdated. More likely you’d be in front of a white board or presenting from a projector. 

“That’s interesting. I find myself reading a lot of nonfiction recently—it helps more with my job, though I also just enjoy facts and statistics—but I’ll always have a special appreciation for fiction. I’m fond of poetry in particular because it’s created for multifaceted analysis,” even in his own whisper, the words were breathy and fast. He had to catch his tongue between his teeth when he caught your eyes trailing back up to him. “What do you plan on doing with your degree?”

“Write poetry hopefully,” the words came out in a gust of wind and your eyebrows quirked up, as if you didn’t believe even your own dream. “Maybe you can analyze it one day.” You finished scanning out the books, putting them back into two neat piles as you did. You went about clicking at your computer, making sure the books were grayed out in the system, avoiding his eyes.

So you did want to be a writer then. He could easily see that as well. Though he got the sense you didn’t believe your aspiration was attainable, and it likely wasn’t due to lack of skill. He told himself he wouldn’t profile you, but he did it practically subconsciously. Your lowered gaze, modest clothes, shy smile, and even chewed nails all pointed to a lack of confidence in yourself. He wasn’t sure why. You were pretty in your own right, and were clearly intelligent and hard working if your pursuit of a masters degree said anything. If you needed a little encouragement, the least he could do was give it to you.  “I look forward to it,” he said, and he was just as sincere as he always had been. 

It only seemed to increase your embarrassment, causing your face to shy further away from his gaze. “Thank you, Spencer.” Even if you couldn’t look at him, your tone was of genuine appreciation, and if he tilted his head just right, he could see the wisp of a smile on your face.

He nodded with a tight lipped smile, staring at you while he waited for the conversation to continue, only to realize you’d finished with his books and it was over. His hands stuttered to gather up the first heap of books, muttering about how he’d be back. However he only got a few paces when he heard you say his name again, feet stopping dead.

“Would you like me to help you carry these out?” You were already trying to get a hold on the books.

Quickly, he shook his head. “No,” the words came out abrupt and firm, louder than he’d ever spoken before in the library, and you flinched. 

“You shouldn’t be following anyone out of here to their cars. This library has a disturbing lack of cameras and an abduction, even in a public area, can happen in less than ten seconds. It’s safest for you to remain in the library and follow the good practice of having someone walk you to your car after your shifts.” Spencer felt obligated to warn you strictly, because your distinct quietness and sweetness made you the perfect prey for the killers he hunted daily. 

Though he almost regretted it as he watched the way your hands retreated from the books, crossing around yourself, and the gentle smile became forced. “Oh. I–I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

Spencer nodded and hesitated, but didn’t linger much longer before exiting the library and heading back to his car. He was quick to toss the books into his car, your tangled smile stuck in his mind. Was it an odd thing to say? He was only trying to warn you, to keep you safe. But the look on your face, you didn’t seem at all grateful for the advice. Spencer took brisk strides back to the library entrance. You were standing there behind the front desk, arms still crossed, a distant look on your face. When you heard him approaching the counter taking in breath just a little faster from boardline jogging back, you barely spared him a glance. He scared you a bit, he realized, and he didn’t want to leave you like that. 

He paused beside his leftover books, wetting his lips.  “I didn’t mean to scare you with what I said before.” He finally caught your eyes and you seemed to hear him out. “I work in law enforcement, for the FBI actually, and all too often I see cases of nice girls like you who go missing just because you want to help people. Unfortunately it’s a pretty common ruse. So, I—I didn’t tell you all that to make you worry, but because I want you to be safe,” he admitted, and your face softened again, your hands falling back to the counter. It brought a smile to his own face to see you relax your guard again. “It’d also be awful if my librarian went missing. Who will check out the heap of books I keep bringing you?” 

You giggled, your lips pulling into a toothy smile. “It’d definitely suck, but I’d hope you’d put those FBI skills of yours into finding me.”

Spencer chuckled, ducking his head into his chest to quiet the sound as he pulled his books into his arms. “Of course I would, and I wouldn’t stop until I did.” He was good at his job, he never stopped until he found their victim, their unsub. 

You bowed your own head, hand holding your glasses to keep them from slipping down your nose. “Goodbye, Spencer.” You gave him a small wave with the other hand, ending the conversation with averted eyes, but he still noticed the growing color in your cheeks. 

He fumbled with his own wave under the stack of books, really just an outward flash of the fingers he could manage to peel away for a second, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him with how awkward it was. He turned on his heel, pink growing in his own cheeks, and exited the library again for the final time today. The gears in his head grinded the whole way to the car and continued as he grappled to get into it and wiped the books with disinfectant. 

You lingered in his mind longer than a librarian should have. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to warn you, to explain himself to you, or even comfort you. There was something about you, as meek and bashful as you were, that he found charming. Perhaps he saw himself in you, the insecurity. Or maybe it was how different you were from his job, where he was met with the most wicked minds and evil acts. You in comparison were the very image of innocence and life, in your pastel purples and yellows, lively eyes magnified behind glass, and your—your laugh. He liked your giggle. Even though he suspected at times it meant you didn’t fully believe him, he let you find him unserious, just so he could continue to hear that sweet sound tickle his ears in a way that scratched an itch inside him.

He was sitting in the parking lot staring out the windshield lost in his thoughts of you. When someone walked by, he found himself clearing his throat and finally putting his car in drive. You dissipated from his mind as he pulled out of the parking space because his Sunday at the library was over. 

—

It took five days for him to finish the ten books from the library. The team was in California from Tuesday through Thursday, but he took four books with him to read during his down time and while on the jet. He still ended up with spare time that he spent shopping with Penelope and babysitting Henry for JJ and Will’s date night. It was for this reason he was glad to be back in the library on Sunday.

Inside he was hit with the familiar crisp air and the vague smell of paper and coffee. The tables to the left had quite a few more students than usual, though there were not very many to start with previously. He wondered if a bout of exams were coming up. As Spencer neared the front desk, he could smell something else, a faint vanilla scent maybe.

You were there as always, standing this time, and almost leaning over the counter to see the door. You smiled when you saw him and he realized that you must be wearing perfume, because around you the vanilla air became thicker.

“Sunday at 11am. You're more reliable than my alarm clock,” you hummed cheekily.

Spencer set the books he held in his hands on the counter, his messenger bag following them up. “Having a routine is actually really good for you. It’s been proven to reduce anxiety and stress and also helps people to cope with certain mental illnesses,” he told her, pulling the rest of his books out of his bag.

If you were thrown off by his fact telling, you didn’t show it. “That makes sense. I like having a routine, but I’m pretty sure my friends think it makes me boring.”

Spencer dug around in his vest pocket for his library card, brows furrowing. “Why would you think that?”

You plucked it from his fingers, bringing it to the barcode reader without breaking your eye contact. “Because they say it to me all the time.”

“Oh,” Spencer snorted a little and clutched the strap of his bag closer. There’s something different about you today. You’re much more talkative and playful, but it’s also in your appearance too. Your glasses are still perched on your nose and your face is bare as it always is, but your updo is more put together, less stands fall away into your face. You wear another long skirt, but it's tighter, less flowy, and he can nearly make out the shape of your legs through it. You’re wrapped in a cardigan too, but where one side falls open he can see your tank top underneath and the sight of your skin has him clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back to your face. 

“And how was your recreational reading?” You’ve started to scan the books back into the system. “You must have been pretty entertained with ten books in seven days.” You state it like a fact, but your tone has a whimsical disbelief to it.

“Actually I finished them in five days,” he corrected with an incline of his head. 

You reply quickly, like the words were primed in your mind. “Then you should have come back sooner.” Under the teasing, you sound serious, looking up from the books at him, lashes fluttering against their glass encasement. 

“I would, but I’ve been pretty busy at work.” He was too. He would spend hours in the library reading if working at the BAU didn’t take up so much of his time. He loved his job of course, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, but what is someone with his talents to do but hole himself up gorging every book he can get his hands on. Spencer had a thirst for knowledge, that’s why he wanted to be in the library so much. 

“Well, that’s too bad then. What do you do for work?” Your head tilts with interest and he almost mirrors the movement, brows furrowed. 

 “I told you—I work for the FBI. Specifically, I’m an agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He has an eidetic memory which means he can remember every word you’ve said to him and every word he’s ever said to you, so he knows he’s told you this before. Of course he knows people forget things, but they also normally remember when he tells them he’s in the FBI.

Your face falls a bit and you chew your bottom lip, brows creasing. “Oh. . . right.” You finish scanning the last book quickly, gathering a couple into a pile to carry to a cart behind you. 

Spencer’s not exactly sure what he’s done to upset you, but his fingers twitch with the itch to fix it. Unfortunately, he’s got the idea his job is what makes you so uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was unsettled by the fact he carried a badge and gun, or that he had the authority to arrest people. But you had joked about it last week, possibly were soothed by the fact he was a cop after his blunt and maybe eerie warning. So why were you suddenly so upset with him? 

The thought occurred to him then that  maybe it was because you didn’t completely believe the things he was saying. Not only that, but you were no longer finding whatever game you think he’s playing by telling you those things to be funny. As you carry the rest of the books back to the cart, he fidgets with his fingers, wondering if it was time to show you proof of what he’s been saying. Or did you really even care? Maybe he was wrong and you would be even more frightened by him presenting you with his badge. Was it odd to flash his FBI credentials at his librarian? That was all you were after all. He didn’t even know your name.

You were back to clicking at the computer when you glanced at him. “They’re all checked in.”

Spencer froze as you pulled him out of his thoughts, his hands locking in the joints before dropping to his sides into fists. That was your cue for him to leave. “Right, thank you.” He went to walk away, but his feet were stuck. “. . .thank you, um, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

You didn’t have to tell him, you could have brushed it off. You were just the librarian and one didn’t need to know the librarian's name, but you looked back at him again, eyes studying his face. Then, you murmured your name so softly he almost leaned in to hear it louder. Soundlessly, he let your name ghost over his lips.

He used it as he thanked you one last time, certainly overkill but it seemed like the only correct way to exit. Although he only got a few feet before he heard you call his name.

“Spencer, wait!” You didn’t yell, he’s never heard you yell, but your voice was the loudest he’s ever heard it. You always spoke in a whisper or a hushed tone, but your voice was nearly normal when you called him back. The urgency of it had him back in front of you in just two strides.

You dipped beneath the counter and when you came back up you placed a basket on it. “When I used to go on picnics to read in the park, I used this basket. Well, I haven’t gone in a long time actually, but I thought maybe you could use it for all the books you check out,” you were bashful, tilting your head down and only sparingly meeting his eyes. Spencer was in shock, all he could think about was how this was one of the nicest things someone’s ever done for him. You gave him whiplash with how quickly you seemed to forgive whatever trespass he committed against you. He wondered even if he exaggerated the interaction in his head. 

The basket was woven, made from wicker, and had two handles at the top. It was rectangular in shape, pretty deep, and large for a picnic basket, he thought, big enough for fruits, pastries, sandwiches, and maybe more. It was a very nice basket, and the thought that you were giving it to him made his heart ache the most. You’d considered him, truly sat down and thought about him and then decided you were going to gift him a solution to his awkward problem. Not often did people solve his problems, it was always the other way around.

“Wow,” his finger grazed the side, considering the cost such a nice piece must be. “Are you sure? I really couldn’t take your basket it’s—”

“I don’t use it anymore,” you interrupted him for the first time. He realized that you never cut him off, you had always listened to him. “You can have it. . .” Your face was kind, then suddenly dropped into a panic. “Only if you want it of course! You don’t have to take it. I guess it’s kind of silly, carrying a picnic basket in a library. . .” You started to pick your nails, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he assured you quickly, leaning just a bit closer so he could catch your eyes again. “Thank you so much. Now I don’t have to worry about falling down the stairs or taking two trips to my car.” 

Your smile returned with a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, you kind of made me nervous going down the stairs like that with all those books. You don’t strike me as very. . . coordinated.”

“Ouch,” Spencer said, though he smiled back at you. You’d read him there, he was not very coordinated at all. Knowing physics was one thing, existing smoothly and with grace on the physical plane was another. 

“Sorry,” you shrugged half heartedly.

“No, you’re right. Thank you for the basket and uh, I’ll be back,” he waved you goodbye as he walked toward the stairs and you fluttered your fingers back at him. 

Spencer took exactly 52 minutes and 34 seconds adding books to his new basket. He got a few stares and side glances as he toted it around, mainly from a group of teenagers huddled at a miniature table and chair set in the children’s section. They snickered as they peeked up from their circle at him, but it wasn’t anything Spencer wasn’t used to. All his life people had laughed at him for a variety of reasons—he was too scrawny, too small, too bumbling, too nerdy—the list was miles long. All he could do was grow thicker skin, and he had. So he didn’t let it bother him as he wandered the library, adding books to his basket. 

No, the reason Spencer took so long to pick books was because each time he slipped one into a wicker embrace, he thought of you. He blinked and saw your face like a phantom burned into his retinas. The way the corners of your mouth twisted in your smile when you were so excited to give him the basket flashed and faded in his vision. Sometimes he cursed his eidetic memory because he’d memorized your face in its entirety with all its most miniscule details and peculiarities—and he didn’t even mean to. He would find himself staring into the empty space in the basket and have to drag his brain clawing back into reality.

His watch had ticked past 12 when he made his way back down the stairs to the main floor, lugging his basket in his right hand. It was heavy, weighed by two textbooks and eight other decently thick books, but the woven willow held strong. 

At the landing he could see across the library that you were already checking someone out. He meant to add himself to the queue, but pivoted to a lounge chair between two bookcases just as he got close enough to hear your voice. Immediately he felt wrong, a churning disgust with himself in the pit of his stomach. It was weird, wasn’t it? To watch you from afar just to gauge your behavior? But he had to know, it burdened his brain to wonder if you were just so saccharine it spilled out to everyone around you or if particularly you poured your sugar onto him.

You didn’t see him duck between the shelves to the lounge chair, not in any way that he could tell. With a tranquil neutral face you scanned the book that the college girl at the counter placed in front of you. The interaction was done in comfortable silence, even when you finished the transaction and she said her thank yous, you merely mumbled a “you’re welcome.”

It was different from how you interacted with him, he realized. You were much more playful and chatty with him, but he wasn’t sure what exactly inspired it in you. You were clearly shy, maybe anxious, but in some moments it faded when you talked to him. He didn’t think he said anything particularly special, but thinking you saw something in him that made you so comfortable, so cheerful, made his stomach flip in a way he couldn’t understand.

The next man in the queue placed his book on the counter. He was the only other person waiting. You asked him absent-mindedly for his library card. He was older than you and Spencer, mid to late 40s if Spencer had to guess, but it gave him an idea about how you interacted with men as well. Which was just as bland as your interaction with the college girl before you. Spencer had a fleeting thought that maybe—just maybe—you liked him. Why else would you be so inclined to laugh with him? To be so shy sometimes you couldn’t meet his eyes? He’d read books, watched movies, and he knew the signs. He was just not used to spotting them in women interacting with him.

He cleared his throat as if to shake off the idea. It was vain, and in all likelihood an arrogant over analysis of the little interaction he’s had with you. He was about to get up and put himself in line behind the man when he heard his lurid voice croak out.

“How about you give me a smile, pretty?”

Spencer froze in place, white knuckle grip engraving the grooves of the entwined handle into his palm. Something like anger flared in his chest. It grew hotter as he saw the way you bowed your head even further from the man's sight, pulling your cardigan closer around your body.

“Um, yeah, could I just get your library card?” You squirmed under his leering gaze, lips faintly curling into the most awkward half-smile you could muster. 

Despite the way you clearly showed you were in duress, the man leaned closer over the counter. “My name’s Todd.” He slid his book across the counter to you like that tidbit of information helped any. “I’ll take this book and your number, baby.” Spencer’s jaw clenched.

His body tingled with the readiness to step in, to tell this Todd fucker to leave you be because obviously you weren’t interested. But his mind, the logical side of him, stopped him because Spencer also respected you and your autonomy. He was not an expert on women, but he knew quite a few strong women in the BAU who would be offended if he stepped in to defend them when they were capable of doing it themselves. He definitely didn’t want to offend you if you were able to brush off Todd on your own.

The uncomfortable smile dropped to a grimace. “If I could get your library card. . .” Your hand hesitantly reached for the book only for Todd to grasp your wrist in a tight hand.

“Stop asking for the damn card,” his voice dropped into a growl. “Baby, I’m just trying to talk to you.”

Your arm fought to pull your hand back behind the counter, but Todd’s grip tightened and pulled back to keep you close. “Sir!” Your voice pitched higher, eyes widening almost too big for their frames. “Sir, please let go—”

Todd huffed, face screwing up in frustration. “Why’re you being so difficult?”

“Sir, you’re hurting her and you need to let go now.” Spencer practically flew over to the front desk. It was his instincts as an FBI agent kicking in. The need to de-escalate and protect was driving him. This man was now hurting you and he was not going to allow it to go any further.

Todd’s scowl looked Spencer up and down, assessing whether or not he could take him. He must have come to the conclusion Spencer was not a threat because he puffed up his chest and continued gripping your wrist. However, he was so distracted by Spencer, you were able to yank your arm away, rubbing at your wrist with your free hand. Todd shot you a similar glare before leveling his even angrier gaze back on Spencer.

“We’re just having a conversation here, asshole. So why don’t you get back to your books,” Todd barked at him so loud they had now attracted all the eyes in the library. But Spencer was only looking over at yours—your creased brow and the watery worry the glass highlighted. 

“Spencer, it’s—” You didn’t get to finish as Todd whirled his head between you and Spencer. 

“Spencer? No fucking way this wimp is your boyfriend.” Behind the rage, Todd looked almost smug.

But Spencer wasn’t. He hit his own boiling point and was passed asking politely. He pulled his credentials from his pocket and flipped them open in Todd’s face. “No, I’m the FBI agent who is going to arrest you for harassment, assault, and public disturbance if you don’t get out of this library right now.”

Todd’s head reeled back at the badge in his face, eyes squinting between the lettering and Spencer’s face. Realization of how much shit he was in passed briefly over Todd’s face before reverting to his glower. He must not have wanted trouble with the FBI though, because he started taking steps backwards toward the exit. But he couldn’t leave with a completely bruised ego.

“Whatever man. If you want the uppity bitch so bad you can have her!” Todd slammed open and closed the door as he made his grand exit. The entire library watched it, listening to him as he got his last dig in and fleeing before Spencer could make him eat his words. He didn’t have his cuffs or gun on him, but he’d dealt with enough unsubs to know he didn’t need them to handle Todd. 

When all the eyes slowly went back to their business, sure that Todd wasn’t coming back into the library, Spencer’s gaze returned to you. Your eyes were dinner plates, mouth agape, still clutching your wrist.

Spencer frowned, whispering your name. “Are you okay?”

“You’re an FBI agent. . .” The words slipped out of you in one shocked exhale. His brows furrowed. He just rescued you from an arrogant asshole and that was what you were stuck on, something he’d told you several times.

“Yes? But I told you—” 

“You were serious?” Your head bobbed forward in disbelief. So you really hadn’t been believing what he was saying. 

“Of course, why would I lie about that?” Spencer was confused and deep down a little hurt. It was such an odd thing to lie about to a stranger, he didn’t understand why you thought he wasn’t truthful. 

“I–I don’t know,” your eyes bounced around in a panic. “I thought you were just trying to impress me. I mean—you don’t really look like an FBI agent you’re. . . young? I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with me so I—” Your hand clasped over your mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, sir—agent—”

“Spencer.”

“What?”

“Call me Spencer,” he gave her a tight lipped smile, a near look of pity on his face. Your complete panic reassured him you were just as embarrassed over the miscommunication as he was. “Technically it would be Doctor, since I have three PhDs—but you can just call me Spencer.”

“But—But I didn’t. . . you were being serious the whole time and I. . .” You stuttered, shaking your head in confusion. “I was so unprofessional. . .”

Spencer chuckled, unable to hold it back. “Unprofessional? Just because I’m an FBI doesn’t mean I can’t like to talk to people. And I like talking to you, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” His disappointment dissipated quickly. Your shyness and embarrassment was so genuine and charming he couldn’t find the space to be upset with you beside all his amusement. 

You crossed your arms, somehow becoming even more bashful. “You’re sure it's okay?”

“Of course it's okay.” Spencer grinned.

A small sigh of relief breezed past your lips. “Okay. . . I should—I should definitely apologize for not believing you.” You meet his eyes then with such profound remorse. “Because I am really sorry. It’s just. . . your accomplishments seemed so amazing they were kind of hard to believe, especially for someone so young.”

It was Spencer’s turn to become bashful. His head ducked and he laughed quietly. “I guess they can be hard to believe. Especially when you aren’t meeting me at work. I just thought maybe all the books helped prove it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes wandering back down to the countertop. “I kinda thought that was also to impress me. I didn’t really think you were reading all of them.”

“Well. . . I do.” He shrugged, figuring you had to believe him now. As you smiled at him, he realized he left his basket and books back at the chair. “Speaking of reading, I’ll be right back.”

You eyed him as he retrieved the basket and set it on the counter in front of you along with his library card. “Oh, were you sitting over there?” You looked curious. Certainly you hadn’t seen him sitting there today or anytime before.

Spencer coughed into his fist. “Um, just for a second.” He moved on quickly, removing the books from the basket. “Thank you for this again, by the way, it’s so much easier to carry all the books.”

You hummed, eyebrows jumping up. “Yeah. . . I’m having trouble believing I really gave an FBI agent a picnic basket to carry books in.” You started swiping the books over the barcode scanner, adding them back into the basket once they appeared on the computer screen next to you.

He cracked a half smile. “I think you watch too many movies. We’re not as serious as you think we are.” Hotch’s face flashed in his eyes and he thought maybe they were pretty serious, but not off duty. Hotch could also be serious enough for the whole team sometimes, so maybe he wasn’t a very good example. “And I like the basket. It was nice of you to think about me.”

Your eyes caught on his for a moment, glazed over in thought, so deep you bumped the basket as you went to set the book you held into it. It snapped you back into reality and you watched your hand as you tucked away the book, clearing your throat. “You’re sure it’s not weird?”

Spencer’s head tilted to the left, considering you. He didn’t know what he could do to pull you back from this rut of self-consciousness. He was starting to regret ever pulling out his badge because now you seem standoffish in a way you never were with him before. He wanted to go back to when you laughed and smiled at him and didn’t find him intimidating. “Of course it’s not,” he paused a moment, wetting his lips. “And this isn’t weird either, y’know? Me being in the FBI? I’m still Spencer.”

You looked back at him again, eyes searching his face. “I know that. I’m. . .” You stared at him a second longer, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a smile. “I’m letting it sink in.” You continued scanning the books quietly, not meeting Spencer’s eyes as he absentmindedly picked at a loose string in his pocket.

His thumb brushed against his FBI credentials and the encounter just before this revelation came flooding back. He glanced over at the double doors as if to make sure Todd had not come back, though Spencer already knew he didn’t. 

“Are you okay?” You met his eyes, brows pulled together. “About before—with that guy?”

“Oh.” You shrugged, rolling your wrist unconsciously. “Yeah, I’m fine. We get one of them every now and again. Normally they’re pretty harmless.” A glimmer of realization passed over your face. “Um, thank you! I should have said that before. Not everyone would have done that.”

Spencer shook his head, waving off your thanks. “Of course. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” He was again reminded of the fact he was not a woman, and even though his job was to put away serial killers—monsters, creeps, pervs—he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. You shook it off well, but he didn’t doubt you were scared in the moment. Probably wondering how far he would take it, whether your reaction was appropriate, if your employer would be angry at you. He was just glad he was there to step in.

Slowly, you finished scanning all the books, tucking them neatly into the basket in an organized order he thoroughly appreciated. Heaviest books sat at the bottom and lighter books were stacked on top of them. You paused, flipping through the last book in your hand, a biography of Max Born, a German-British physicist. 

“So. . . you really do read 20,000 words per minute?” You had a cheeky grin as you peeked up at him from beneath those frames, and suddenly you were back. Spencer smiled.

“Yup. I also have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

You giggled, nodding along. “Right. Well then I guess this isn’t even enough books for you.” A finger waved over at the basket.

“It depends on work, actually. I’m usually busy, but I often have to travel too and then I become really busy so I don’t have time to read,” he explained. When he did sit down to read, he could get through one to three books, depending on their volume. “But yeah, ten books in a week is kind of light.”

You tapped the book in your hand with your thumbs, thinking. “Okay.” Suddenly you dropped the book into the basket, dipping below the desk to set another book in front of him. Examining it, he realized by its orange and yellow coloring it was the same book you had been reading the last time he was in the library. It was The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and from the look of its creased spine and faded orange cover, it was well loved. “You should read this too then.”

Spencer turned the book over in his hands, looking at you with a twisted face of confusion. “But the check out limit is ten books?”

You shook your head, gesturing for him to add it to the basket. “It’s not a library book,” when he still looked puzzled, you continued. “It’s my book. You can borrow it from me.”

Your kindness and generosity was both shocking and overwhelming. Spencer wasn’t sure how he was to thank you for being so gracious to him. He could only think of one thing. So he quickly fumbled his wallet up onto the countertop. “You have to let me give you something for this—”

“Spencer,” as you said his name, your hand covered his as he dug for bills to give you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He shook his head, bewildered. Not only was your kindness startling, but so was the feeling of your hand on his. He had to stop his body from flinching at the contact. He was mostly uncomfortable at the thought of people touching him, but your palm was warm, soft, and offered the most comfort he’d felt in a while. “The basket and the book? It’s too much. I mean. . . you’re too nice.”

Your lips spread into a bright smile, flashing him your teeth. “Just bring me back your analysis. I’d love to hear what an IQ of 187 can cook up. Deal?”

Spencer laughed, ducking his head as he nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

When the laughter faded and his head came back up, he looked at you for a while longer, just feeling the paperback cover underneath his fingertips. You met his eyes just for a few moments, twiddling your own fingers. “So um, see you next Sunday?” You asked. He dared to see hope in your eyes.

“See you next Sunday,” Spencer agreed again. He hesitated putting the book in his new basket then finally left the front desk, waving you goodbye as he did. He watched over his shoulder you return his wave as he exited through the double doors. 

Spencer walked back to his car practically swinging the basket, so in his head he didn’t even realize he still had a smile on his face. He set The Poetry of Pablo Neruda aside as he disinfected his books and wondered what he would do the rest of his day off. What he was sure of, deep in his chest, was that he was excited for next Sunday. 

[stariiesz]

୨⎯𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙰𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ⎯୧

May 28th, 2017

“I… I like you Satoru.” The words fell out of your mouth suddenly.

It was the last day of high school. A bittersweet chapter in your life. Satoru, who had been your long-time crush, was perfect. Everybody loved him, and could you blame them? After all, He was popular, attractive, athletic, and very extroverted. He was everything you weren’t. You weren’t exactly popular, you were bad at sports, and you were very introverted.

He was so nice to everyone. Everyone that is but you. And you're not sure why he seems to hate you, he just does. Every time he sees you in the hallway he scoffs and rolls his eyes as if you're the bane of his existence. And because of Satoru’s open dislike for you, it influenced others to not like you too.

Not many people wanted to talk to you or hang out. The few times you had interaction with other class mates was for cheating of you or for school projects, not that they wanted to partner with you by choice. Sure you were kind of an outcast but it never really bothered you. You could care less what your other low-life classmates thought. Only one opinion mattered, and that was Satoru’s of course. Though, you were quite sure that man could care less about you.

So why were you now confessing such feelings to Satoru? You knew you weren’t going to see him again after high school, and you didn’t want to keep these feelings hidden away forever, so you devised a plan. You were going to walk up to him, confess, then bail before he could laugh at your pathetic feelings for him. It did take a lot of courage as you were stepping out of your comfort zone, but you needed him to know how you felt even if he didn’t feel the same which he probably wouldn’t. Even though he and his friends would laugh every time you walked by, and even though you were nowhere near his league, you still liked him. So you would give it a chance.

April 12th, 2017

You applied for a bunch of colleges in Japan and got in a few. However, Kyoto University is the one that you want to go to most. You were very excited to go because that was the college Satoru was going to, meaning you had a chance of running into him from time to time! You were feeding into your own delusions because if that ever did happen, Satoru wouldn’t have a change of heart and start liking you. He’d be just as rude and probably ignore you too. But a girl can dream, right?

While walking through the halls of the dreaded place called school, you happen to overhear a conversation between Satoru and some of his friends which completely change the plans you had made.

“Yeah, I got into a bunch!” Satoru said to his friends. “I really wanted to go to Kyoto and all but now I think I wanna go to the University of Tokyo!” Satoru said.

Your heart dropped. If he wasn’t going to Kyoto that meant you had no chance of seeing him in college. So these could be the last few weeks you could see him. Even though he despises you, being at the same college gave you a chance to at least see him. But now that was ruined.

“Oh Satoru, you’re going to the University of Tokyo too?” Adina asked as she put her hands on his broad shoulders. Adina was not very fond of you at all. She would even take it as far as to purposely bump into you just to humiliate you, but once again, it really didn’t bother you.

Adina turned to give you the nastiest look. “Uhh can we help you?” She asked you with an annoyed tone. At this point, Satoru was also staring at you. You ignored her comment and continued walking along.

As you walked the cold realization of him not going to the same college set in. This made you think of some way to see him after school ended. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind. So if you weren’t gonna see him after school ended the least you could do was confess and get these feelings you’ve had since freshman year out, right?

May 28th, 2017

Satoru was cleaning out his locker and signing the yearbooks of the usual classmate. You waited for the small crowd by him to die down so you could talk to him. When he noticed you come up. He rolled his eyes and scoffed upon seeing you. “What do you want?” He sighed as he put another textbook in a bag and eyed your figure.

You ignored his attitude as you were used to it and cleared your throat as you gathered up all the courage you had to confess. It was now or never. This could, no it probably would be the last time you had a chance to talk to Satoru. So you had to do it.

“I… I like you Satoru..” You said, feeling the relief after getting the confession of your chest. “And I know.. I know you don’t feel the same, I know I annoy you for some reason but I just..I needed to tell you before we go our separate ways.”

He was caught off guard when you confessed. He stopped mid-action turning over to you with a confused look on his face. His eyes widened upon hearing your confession. He opened his mouth to speak but you ran off before he could reject you, or so you thought. Unbunonnced to you he tried to run after you.

“Hey wait up!” He called after you before he ran into his friend group.

“Hey man, where are you speeding off to?” His friend asked. “Come on, let's go get something to eat to celebrate!”

Satoru looked back to see if you were there but you were gone. He sighed and then turned back to his friends with a small smile.

“Sure.” He replied walking off with them.

May 29th, 2017

Graduation day.

It was awkward when you and Satoru met eyes during the ceremony. You quickly looked away but he kept staring which you weren’t aware of. After the ceremony, you met up with your family and tried to leave as quickly as possible as you didn’t want to run into Satoru. There was a party being hosted by one of the popular boys which a lot of people were attending, including Satoru, but you weren’t invited so you really had nothing more to stay for.

You glanced at him one more time before leaving. There he was, as beautiful as always. He was laughing with a group of friends and seeing that made you smile. He was happy and that was all that mattered in the end. You savored the moment as it would be the last time you would see Satoru Gojo in all his glory… right?

Master list Next chapter->

1.1k words

Banner creds: @cafekitsune

Next chapter coming soon!

[sutaagaaru]

STAR BOY— NANAMI KENTO X READER: CHAPTER 01.

౨ৎ synopsis: nanami kento is finally dragged out to a bar by his work colleague, satoru. against his better judgment he ends up drinking, and finds himself spending the night with a pretty girl. he can’t seem to stop thinking about her, or if he’ll ever see her again. turns out she’s closer than he thought….

౨ৎ content: workplace au, colleagues to lovers, slight age gap, gojo is a shit stirrer, suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, pushing the agenda that nanami can dance

౨ৎ chapter summary: after a messy breakup with your boyfriend, but landing a new job, your friends decide to both cheer you up and celebrate at a bar.

nanami kento was exhausted. it was bad enough that he was constantly drowning in work, not to mention the overtime, but he also had to endure his work colleague, satoru (if you asked, satoru would be adamant they were best friends.)

every single weekend, without fail, the white-haired man would beg him to come to a bar with him to drink. and every single weekend, nanami would refuse.

so why was it that nanami was sat on a barstool in the corner of a bustling club?

“come on, nanamin!! i finally convinced you to come here with me, you can’t sulk by yourself here.” satoru whined, as nanami realised he did often a long time ago.

“i agreed i would attend just this once, that doesn’t mean i’m going to make a fool of myself which no doubt you will be doing tonight.” the stoic man answered with a coldness that satoru wasn’t unfamiliar with.

“you’re such an old man, nanamin. i swear that wrinkle on your forehead gets bigger every time we hang out-”

“do you forget that you are older than me?” nanami rubbed his temples. the regret of agreeing to this outing was bringing on a headache.

“nuh uh. we’re basically the same age.”

“you’re an insolent child.” nanami sighed, and ordered a glass of whiskey. maybe that would soothe his ache– or drown out the 30 year old man child in front of him.

“fine, while you drown in that glass, i’m gonna find me a woman. enjoy your loneliness!” satoru sped off in the direction of the crowd, leaving nanami by himself.

life has a way of making things turn out how they’re supposed to. you had just broken up with your boyfriend of 2 years after finding him cheating… and then the next day you were rewarded by finding out your application to a job was accepted. a career in literature was something you had wanted for a while, and working at the Kaisen Company was everything you wanted and more. it definitely took your mind off your pathetic excuse of an ex boyfriend.

but your friends’ plans for the night were the best remedy of all.

you were in the middle of the packed dance floor, ice cold cocktail in your hand. it had been a considerable amount of time since you last went out dancing with your friends; your ‘insecure’ ex boyfriend didn’t want you going out and cheating on him– how ironic.

regardless, tonight wasn’t about him. it was about your exciting new job as a publishing and marketing assistant, and being free to have as much alcohol as you wanted before you started on monday.

“are you having fun?” your best friend nobara shouted in your direction over the noise of the crowd.

“tons. thank you for taking me out tonight, you two.” you smiled, sipping your drink.

“well we had to celebrate. it’s not every day a woman gets to escape the clutches of an evil toad.” your other friend maki joked. she’d never liked your ex.

you’d met maki and nobara when you started your old job. nobara was four years younger than you at 20, with maki a year older than her, but you were so close and you were sad the three of you were no longer going to be working together.

“speaking of, do you think you’ll end up with anyone tonight? anyone here would be a serious improvement.” nobara asked you.

“unless i meet the perfect man in here, i think i’m gonna pass on the male species altogether for a while.” you considered dating an older man the next time around, hopefully the maturity level would increase slightly.

“who needs men anyway, me and nobara are way cooler than any guy on earth.” maki swung her arm around the both of you and you giggled.

“you’re right. who could possibly be perfect in a place like this?”

nanami was at the end of his fourth drink of the night. every now and then he would turn his head to find satoru being incessantly irritating with some woman, to which he would roll his eyes. it amazed him how any woman would even be attracted to him in the first place.

maybe women liked a man who was boyish and grabs everyone’s attention. that could be why nanami never seems to get very far with women. he couldn’t even remember the last time he was in a relationship, never mind been interested in a woman.

truthfully he wasn’t social enough to meet anyone.

“could i get another-” “can i please get-”

before nanami could order his fifth glass of whiskey, someone else had ran up to the bar to get another drink.

he peered over at the woman next to him. there you stood, wide eyed like a stunned deer which completely contrasted with your outfit. you couldn’t have been older than 25, he thought, and his eyes couldn’t help but wander over you.

nanami made a mental note not to drink much anymore.

“sorry, you were ordering first.” you smiled politely at the lonely man at the bar. he was handsome, which was certainly an understatement, and his hair was sort of wild and untamed. you took a quick glance at his clothes; a crisp white shirt paired with some black pants, and you came to the conclusion he didn’t come to bars often.

“no, you go ahead, i’m starting to think i should stop ordering myself alcohol.” the man gestured to the bartender who began making your drink as you waited.

“i hope you don’t take offence, but why come to a place like this if you don’t want to drink?” you took it upon yourself to sit down at the stool next to him.

“you see that tall idiot over there, dancing behind that woman?” he pointed over at a man with bright, white hair, “he’s a work colleague, and he dragged me here.”

you smiled at his honesty, it was refreshing.

“what brings you here?” he questioned, his body turning slightly to face you.

“i’m here with my friends, we’re celebrating my new job.” you tactically omitted the drama of your love life. no stranger needs to hear that.

“congratulations, i hope it goes well for you. my name is nanami kento…” nanami held out a hand for you to shake, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

you told him your name, and took his hand in yours, shaking it firmly.

just as you let go of his hand, the bartender comes back over to you with your cocktail.

“so, tell me about your job. do you hate all of your colleagues or just the so-called tall idiot?” you joked, and nanami let out an airy laugh.

“satoru and i knew each other before we started working together. we were in the same high school, and he won’t let me escape him 15 years later.” he explained, but one detail stuck out to you.

“wait– you’re in your 30’s? but you look so young…” you spoke incredulously.

“i am taking that as a compliment, just so you know.” nanami smiled.

“good, because it was supposed to be one.” you didn’t miss the way he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. you weren’t stupid, you could see this man was absolutely attractive, and he seemed to be a real gentleman. it made you want to rile him up.

“hey, this might be forward, but do you maybe want to dance with me? i haven’t seen my friends in a while and i’m enjoying your company.” you asked him.

“i wouldn’t be opposed to that, but i don’t really dance…” he held his hands up defensively.

“then it’s a perfect time for me to teach you. come on, nanami.” you grabbed his hands and pulled him up from his seat.

following behind you to the dance floor, nanami took a glance around to see if satoru was lurking. he would be mortified if he were to see this.

once you had led him far enough into the crowd, you faced the man. you underestimated how tall he was when you were sat on the barstools, but it was just another reason as to why he was so attractive.

“okay, put your hands right here,” you slowly moved his hands to the sides of your waist, noting how large they were before resting yours on his arms.

“now you just feel the music.” you swayed your hips to the upbeat song blaring from the speakers, all the while nanami watched.

“you’re not a very good teacher.” he chuckled, but his soft voice made it hard for you to hear him.

“what did you say? it’s too loud for me to hear.” you shouted, standing on tiptoes to get closer to his height.

“i said you’re not a very good teacher.” he repeated himself, getting a whiff of the scent of your hair.

“hey! i told you to feel the music, you’d think they were playing some sad ballad.” you laughed at him before standing back down on your feet.

“maybe i’m too old for this.” his hands squeezed at your waist.

“you just need to move your lower body a little.” nanami took your advice and started to move his hips with yours. your eyes never left his as you danced together, and he finally began to let loose. can’t dance, my ass.

as the seconds passed, your bodies got closer and closer, until you were practically pressed against him. you felt the vibrations from his chest indicating he was speaking to you, but once again his voice was lost.

“could you say that again?” you leaned back slightly to look at him.

you assumed you were going to stand on tiptoes again, but instead he leaned down to you, next to the shell of your ear.

“i said you’re beautiful.”

not what you were expecting.

nanami pulled his head away from your ear to face you, but found himself leaning in once again to press his lips to yours.

what started out slow and methodical quickly turned into a heated dance of tongues and hands.

you felt his thumbs caressing your sides as he closed the small gap between your bodies. lifting one of your hands to the back of his head, your fingers threaded in the strands of his hair, and tugged gently. nanami sighed into your mouth, pulling you impossibly closer.

you were so caught up in the moment with him that neither of you noticed a white-haired man heading towards you.

“my, my, my,” satoru interrupted, causing nanami to break away from your lips and let out a huff of indignation, “i leave my good friend alone for five minutes and this is what he gets up to?”

you hold in a laugh at nanami’s face of disgust.

“we haven’t met yet, but i’m sure nanamin’s tongue can introduce me.” you could see why a man like nanami would find him so idiotic, but it was entertaining to say the least.

“i’m going to try my best to ignore what you’ve just said for the sake of my embarrassment. please leave.” nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, meanwhile satoru completely ignores him.

“my name is gojo satoru, but you can just call me toru.” he grins cheekily.

“it’s great to meet you, gojo.”

“ouch, i’m wounded. it’s bad enough that nanamin here calls me by my last name when we’ve known each other for so long.” satoru places a hand on his heart dramatically. it truly surprises you that the two of them are friends when they’re complete opposites.

they sort of reminded you of itadori and megumi, two of your friends from your old job.

“hey, we were just looking for you!” you heard nobara from behind you, with maki beside her.

“oh hey, this is nanami, and his weird friend gojo.” you gestured to the two of them.

“i can’t believe you just called me weird. i thought we were closer than that.” satoru gasped.

“she met you 30 seconds ago.” nanami spat, still scowling like he was as soon as satoru arrived.

“so did you, but you don’t see me giving her mouth to mouth!” he ruffled nanami’s hair, and you pursed your lips, glancing at your friends who raised their eyebrows at you.

“you’re lucky you are somewhat capable at your job or i’d be emailing HR with a lengthy paragraph of your degeneracy.”

“wow, you did a lot while we were gone.” maki side eyed you, and you nudged her with your elbow.

“didn’t you say you weren’t going to-” nobara began but you cut her off.

“i said nothing.” you widened your eyes at her hoping she’d get the hint.

thankfully she did, but satoru certainly did not.

“wait, she wasn’t going to what? tell me, tell me!” he bounced over to nobara, who just looked him with a deadpanned expression.

“stop embarrassing yourself, gojo.” nanami dragged him away by the arm.

���well actually, she said–” you quickly covered maki’s mouth before she could speak and pushed both of her loudmouth friends so they couldn’t say a word.

“i didn’t say a thing! we have to go, see you later!” you scurried away from the two men.

“wait,” nanami called your name, but you were too far to hear him.

damn this loud music.

౨ৎ…

it was the beginning of the week, and nanami had spent the last two days thinking about the woman he met at the bar. you occupied his mind even as he made his commute to work; the smell of the shampoo in your hair, the jokes you so easily made and the effortless way you got a man like him onto the dance floor.

but thanks to satoru, you had left without giving him any way to contact you. he wondered if he may never see you again.

as the elevator reached the floor of your new workspace, you felt nervousness hit the pit of your stomach. what if you weren’t any good at your job? what if no one liked you and you couldn’t make any new friends? even though there was a low chance of these things happening, the thought still crossed your mind.

then you thought back to your weekend. you had a great night with a stranger, and stupidly forgot to ask for his number. it was unlikely you’d see him again too, seeing as he didn’t go to bars. it was a shame, but you supposed if it was meant to be, things would have turned out differently. or at least that’s what you were telling yourself.

walking through the bullpen of desks, you felt people staring at you. it made sense, they’d never seen you before, but it only added to your nerves.

“hello, it’s my first day today and i was instructed to introduce myself to the publishing and marketing manager.” you walked up to the first person you saw standing, a woman with dark brown hair and tired looking eyes.

“oh yeah, i heard we were getting a new member today. you’re a little early so you can just wait in his office. i’m gonna go for a smoke before he gets here so just let yourself in, it’s through that door up there.” the woman pointed to an office behind you.

“thank you!” you bowed politely and headed for the door.

once you entered the room, you immediately noted the lack of decoration. it was quite a bare office, the only interesting thing about it was the large oak bookshelf at the back of the room. out of curiosity you decided to look at the collection of books there.

nanami exited the elevator, exactly on time just as he did every morning. he figured if he was on time for every shift, he’d have less overtime.

“morning, mr. nanami!” one of the staff greeted him.

“good morning.” despite the ungodly amount of workload he had to tackle, nanami did enjoy working with every one of his colleagues (with the exception of satoru, of course. he thanked every god he could think of that he was in a different department.)

“oh, hey nanami.” shoko held a hand up, closing the door of the smoking room.

“you’re smoking again? at 9 in the morning?” nanami sighed, he’d known shoko as long as he’d known satoru.

“old habits never die. by the way, the new starter arrived about 10 minutes ago, i sent her into your office.”

ah, yes. he’d almost forgot there was another colleague joining his team.

“thank you.” nanami walked swiftly to his office door, and through the window he could see a woman taking a look at his bookshelf.

he turned the doorknob and entered his office to greet her, “good morning, you must be the new–”

as the woman turned around, he realised it was the same woman who had been living in his mind all weekend.

“nanami?”

౨ৎ…!

authors note: thanks for reading my first chapter of STAR BOY! i apologise in advance for future updates, because there’s a high chance it will take me a while in between chapters. i sincerely hope you can ignore my mediocre writing.

i’m trying to figure out which characters from the anime/ manga to include, because i don’t think i’ll include all of them. there will definitely be more than i have introduced so far though.

see you in the next chapter!

© SUTAAGAARU 2024. do not repost, translate, or duplicate any of my works here or any other websites.

[frostyhelltime]

Alastor Realizes He Has Feelings For You

Alastor x GN!Reader

AN: A lovely anon sent in a request for a few of the guys realizing they have feelings for the reader, and Alastor's got...so far away from me that I decided to give him his own post, and I'll link this in the ask I actually answer. I just had so much fun writing Alastor freaking the hell out once he realizes.

HERE is the link for the ask if anyone is curious to see this prompt with Lucifer or Vox.

Alastor

In order of which of the guys notices first, Alastor realizes it dead last.

Which makes sense. He had long thought himself incapable of such feelings toward someone. There had never been anyone he had felt that particular inclination towards before, so he assumes at first that what he has with you is just…a very intense friendship, almost like him and Rosie, just with some odd caveats.

Once he does realize he'll immediately go to Rosie for some advice since it's…clearly not his area of expertise.

He doesn't even notice it, someone else points it out to him.

He's in a piss poor mood as he goes about the hotel. He hasn't yet figured out it's because you've been too busy to see him for the past four days.

Until someone gets mad enough at him to talk back.

Alastor is sitting in the lobby, impatiently tapping his foot as he wallows and waits, sipping a glass of rye as Husk made a point to only come over to his side of the bar when it looked like he needed something.

Alastor was struggling, trying to figure out why his mood has been so sour these past few days. Things had been fine, delightful even! The hotel was taken care of, his broadcasts went well, why he even went for a nice stroll in Cannibal Town to visit Rosie. By all means a perfect few days.

So why was his patience for everything wearing oh so thin? He sighs a moment and makes a sound almost like a growl to himself as he tries to puzzle this out. This was so infuriatingly perplexing!

It isn't much longer until Angel Dust is so fed up with Alastor ruining the good mood of the bar as he tries to flirt with Husk that he actually addresses the Overlord.

“Look Smiles. Just because you're all sad ya lovely little lover has been too busy to even say hi the past few days, doesn't mean you've gotta take it out on us. I'm trying to hit on the barman but your pissy mood is killing it.” Angel says, throwing a hand up from the other side of the bar. 

“Operative word here being try, not succeeding at.” Husk says dryly, closer to Angel’s side.

“Yeah yeah. You secretly adore me. Don't worry. I'll keep your secret.” Angel winks at him as Alastor tries to decipher what it is Angel just said.

“...Lover?” He asks, trying to clarify, tilting his head to the side. He's so flummoxed he even stops tapping his foot. He says it like someone sounding out a foreign word for the first time.

“...Are they not your lover?” Angel raises an eyebrow, putting his drink down a moment. “I mean the way you two act…I thought you were dating and just keeping it a secret.” Angel shrugs, and only then does it click Angel is talking about you. There's no one else in the hotel that he's consistently friendly enough with that that mistake could happen.

Once he figures it out he just cackles a moment, deep and loud, with his free hand over his stomach as he fails to contain his amusement.

“Oh my dear Angel, no!” He says, chuckling a little more before continuing, shaking his head. “They're just a very dear friend.” Alastor explains, waving off the idea. “Besides why would I be upset they haven't been around? I don't see Rosie every day and I'm perfectly fine.” He says, although he doesn't really need to explain himself to them anyway.

But it doesn't seem to convince Angel who just looks at him with skepticism.

“Surely you jest! What evidence have I possibly given to suggest they are more than a dear friend?” Alastor asks, sure Angel has nothing concrete.

“Well, for starters, they can touch you whenever and however they want. You let them in your personal bubble and you fucking hate people being in your personal bubble.” Angel begins to explain, holding a finger up.

“I'm the same way with Rosie, and Mimzy, to a degree.” Alastor shoots down that theory easily.

“You've been in an increasingly shit mood with  a short fuse since they've been too busy to see you.” Angel tries again, holding up a second finger.

“Preposterous. I don't know why I'm in such a frustrated mood, but I assure you it isn't them. Perhaps I'm feeling a bit of cabin fever and need to spend more time out and about in the city…?” The last bit is mostly Alastor's own suggestion to himself. "Perhaps too much time in the hotel..?" He continues wondering aloud.

Angel just rolls his eyes and sighs, rubbing his forehead with a free hand a moment.

“You get them presents! And do things for them without ever asking for a deal!” Angel tries again, holding up a third finger, but Alastor just shakes his head.

“I won't deny I do that, but I fail to see the connection between that behavior and them supposedly being my lover.” Alastor shakes his head, finding Angel's arguments far too easy to poke holes into.

Angel thinks he's about to scream with how absolutely daft this guy was in regards to his emotions apparently.

“You let them in your radio station, even when you're broadcasting, have picnics in your freaky weird swamp thing in your room, smile so much brighter as soon as you catch sight of them! You obviously have a big fat crush on them!” Angel almost shouts, standing and throwing all four arms up in absolute and utter exasperation.

"Am I fucking crazy or what? I can't be the only one who sees this?!" Angel sighs heavily as he turns to Husk who shakes his head.

"I'm not getting involved in this." Is all Husk says, although he stays close to Angel, as if to protect him should something go wrong.

“...None of that is something you would only do with a lover and not a friend.” Is all Alastor says through his smile. Not a denial of any of those actions, he has done all of those things. But he still thinks Angel is jumping to some rather far fetched conclusions.

Husk just knows Angel is right, but knows there's no way of convincing the guy unless it hits him right in the face, and Husk knows something you feel over a crush that you don't with a friend.

Jealousy.

“I don't even know why you're bothering trying to set them up Angel. They already have a hot date this weekend anyway so what does it matter if he has a crush on them or not?” Husk says so casually, it comes across like it could only be true. He curses at himself in his head for saying he wouldn't get involved and then immediately doing so before Angel Dust could upset Alastor.

There's a loud pop of static that sounds off from Alastor's direction, and Husk thinks he's right on the edge of making him realize.

“No kiddin’? Man. That blows Smiles. Sorry.” Angel blinks, slumping a bit before sitting back down and drinking. “Huh. I wonder if that's why they asked me for outfit advice the other day? Said they really wanted to wow someone.” Angel taps his glass as he thinks, having absolutely no idea if Husk is lying, but playing along anyway.

“How’d they ask them out anyway?” Angel asks curiously, because if it's true he does want to know, and if it isn't he's sure the answer will rile Alastor up anyway.

“Some newbie sinner approached them while they were grabbing a snack from that bakery they like, and said something about having a crush on them and asked them out to some jazz show or something, I don't remember. They seemed pretty excited.” Husk says as he refills Angel's drink now. However Alastor's drink just shatters in his hand at this information and he just looks down in surprise.

He hadn't been holding it that tight, had he? He looks equally confused and irritated at the mess of glass and rye on the bar top and in his hands. But why was he upset? He was never upset whenever Rosie got a new husband. He couldn't actually be jealous could he? Just the very idea makes him want to scoff. He doesn't get jelaous. But the image of you on some date with some pathetic unworthy creature as you laughed at their jokes and leaned in closer, hand gently on their arm as you pressed your lips against thei-

He's standing up, letting out a deep breath to calm himself, clearly upset as he let his thoughts run away from him. He turns to look at the two there and sees them looking quite scared, and covering their ears. Oh. His static was exceptionally loud right now, wasn't it? He quickly fixes that and adjusts his jacket with tight hands. He doesn't even bother to think of an excuse as he melts into the shadows, appearing in the bog in his room, pacing rapidly.

“Surely…not?” He asks himself aloud as he paces amongst the trees, allowing himself to feel the full panic and upset now that he was behind closed doors. He's rubbing his chin as he thinks, trying to logically figure this out.

“Why do I care if they date someone?” He asks himself, gripping his head as if it hurts from trying to figure out this riddle. He thinks his head actually is starting to hurt, since the answer was beginning to dawn on him, and it was terrifyingly uncharted territory. “No, no. Impossible. I'm confused. Perhaps I'm ill?” He suggests, taking his hands down, bringing one hand up to feel his forehead.

“....That excuse sounds absolutely pathetic.” He grits out, fist swinging and demolishing a tree in his way. But it doesn't make him feel any better. Doesn't make him feel any more in control. The more he thinks about it the more he realizes that on the surface, his interactions with you and Rosie are a little different.

When he gets Rosie presents it's just a simple “Here you are dear! I thought of you!” And then they share a laugh as she thanks him. But when he gives you a present, he waits eagerly, eyes scrutinizing every aspect of your being as you open it. His posture is stiff but practiced as he awaits your reaction, only relaxing when he sees the ecstatic smile on your face as you begin to thank him.

He doesn't mind Rosie touching him, and in fact on some days actually quite enjoys it. But with you he wants it, moves instinctively towards your touch instead of away.

Fuck. That stupid spider was right, he realized with a swell of panic and fear at this new unknown variable.

He…loves you? It still didn't sound right, but the more he thought about it the more he realizes it could only unfortunately be true. When had you wrapped him around your little finger so tightly? And how hadn't he realized?!

He's even more upset now at how far gone he was on you without realizing. The radio demon has a weakness. Even just thinking the phrase makes the sensation of bile rise in his throat and he has to sit down a moment to collect himself again.

His entire body is stiff and agitated as he tries to come to terms with this. Until he hears a knock on his door.

“Alastor? Are you in there? It's me. Husk said you seemed like you were in a sour mood. So I thought I would come check on you. Can I come in?” Your voice rings through the door crystal clear and he sucks in a breath and pays attention to his reactions now.

His stiff muscles began to relax and soften, the frustration that was so unbearable he had begun tearing apart trees seemed so…distant now. Surely an over exaggeration to lose his cool like that. He sighs and looks down. 

Angel had been right.

But…now that he knows…all he needs to do now is get you wrapped just as tightly around his finger as he was around yours. There is no danger of feeling jealousy or rejection or heartbreak or of him possibly being controlled by you or anything of the sort if he ensures you fall for him as splendidly as he has apparently fallen for you.

With that in mind he stands now, ready to face you with this new knowledge. He's dusting himself off and then opening his door, smiling at you in the typically charming way he knows had a tendency to make people swoon when he was alive, and even now in death. Just because he hadn't had an interest in dating didn't mean he didn't know how to charm someone. 

“How kind to come check on me.” He drawls almost sweetly as he snatches your hand as gently as possible before bringing it to his lips, eyes half-lidded as he peers at you, studying your expression. He feels confident from the sound of the slight intake of your breath and the small flush of red dusting your cheeks that he very well still has a chance to edge out any competition for your affections.

“Well now my dear I'm in a much less sour mood now that I have such exquisite company. If you're not too tired I would love to know what's captured your time so much these past few days. Come on in.” His smile is charming, a predator seeming to eye his unaware prey as he opens the door further to let you in, your eager smile mollifying him for the moment.

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

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[rhiaghostriley]

MDNI - Ghost x reader - Age gap

            “I am way too old for you, princess.”

This damn sentence, uttered with a scoff and a roll of his eyes, you heard it a thousand times. Every time you sat next to him at the bar, your hand lingering on his arm while you looked at him batting your eyelashes, every night when you left the common room, looking at him insistently, asking him silently to join you to your room, to no avail. And now, while you are both alone in the shooting range and you asked for his help, pressing your ass against his cock as he stands behind you to correct your stance, he whispered the same fucking sentence in your ear, making you shiver.

Simon is turning forty in a few weeks, and for him you’re nothing more than a baby bird, needing to learn life before you can think you play in the same league. He told you to date guys your age, but for you it means dating boys, and you want to date a man. One who can handle himself, manhandle you, and he is perfectly what you’re looking for. But Simon Riley is stubborn and nothing would make him change his mind. No means no…

That was a few days ago. Now ? Now, you’re replaying the scene in your head, looking at him with a smirk while he fucks you senseless in one of the stall of the bar’s bathroom. Not the perfect settlement but that’ll do. Because it’s Simon Fucking Riley, you’d take him anywhere he wants to. And damn, he doesn’t disappoint. Making you moan and smirk a bit more every time he hits your G-spot, mumbling words like “so fucking tight” and “you take it so well”. Holding you against the wall, his arms hooked under your thighs as you hold on to him for dear life, legs shaking because you already came twice. The look in your eyes is cocky, saying “Do you still think I am too young ?” - when your eyes are not rolling in the back of your head.

Too old for you, my ass. Not a single guy under thirty on this fucking planet made you see stars the way you do right now. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Not when Simon is buried so deep inside you that you can feel his balls slap your ass. Not when his cock is wearing the pretty red necklace your lipstick left on it. Not when your pussy has been dripping with his cum for the last thirty minutes.

Because you know you’ll have him again. The way he is growling in your ear, the way you clench around him, keeping him deep every time you come, the way you fit together like two fucking pieces of the most obscene puzzle, it’s intoxicating. Addictive. And it’s fine by you. As far as you’re concerned he can fuck you in all the stalls of all the bathrooms of all the bars.

It’s Simon Fucking Riley.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

(Idia's Part)

Previous part (Kalim)

─────❅─────

A/n: Out of every housewarden, I felt like sobbing writing Idia's cause of how fluffy he is, I love him so much. Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Potential Inaccuracy in Indian Tradition, Indian and Greek clothing, if ever you see inaccuracy about it, please let me know, I only did a bit of research about it. The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personalities of our beloved boys. You have a child with Kalim here!

─────❅─────

First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul

Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Kalim = The sultan Idia = Hades ─────❅───── Idia: The underworld has always been Idia’s little comfort zone, although at first, he didn’t want to rule it, due to how depressing it gets sometimes, but along with his brother Ortho who takes care of “outside” activities, aka meetings with those overbearing gods and goddesses who think they’re better than anyone, he didn’t mind the work as long as it’s with him. So far, his duties were all just about guiding souls into whatever the fuck they want or are allowed to go, honestly if they all became lost souls, he wouldn’t give a flying damn.

One day, however, an odd discrepancy appeared in the calculations of souls being accepted—an unregistered soul had entered the narrative. Concerned, he strolled toward the portal of Tartarus to investigate. When he peered inside, a sudden flash of blinding light erupted, disorienting him. Before he could react, a heavy force slammed into his body, causing him to stumble.

“What the!” he grunted, feeling a heavy body on top of him, he rubbed his head, opening his eyes, adjusting to the sudden light-to-darkness transition.

You stirred, finding your hands pinning him down. His eyes widened in shock as he pushed you off, scrambling backward so quickly that he hit his back on the wall with a loud slam.

“What In the world?!” he screeched, his hair glowing brightly meaning he was incredibly nervous, while you seemed to be lost, standing up, you pat away the dust off your outfit, taking notice of Idia who still was pressed on the wall.

“Idia?” you went closer to him, he looked like an angry kitten, glaring at you at first but the moment you got closer he stiffens up, pushing his hands to protect himself from you.

“Stay back! You anomaly!” he shouted that it echoed around the empty room, you were taken aback, “Idia, it’s me.” you said, eyebrows knitting in frustration.

“H-how do you know my name?” he asked, looking at you confusedly, were you sent by his other brother who he doesn’t even think of one, Zeus? You look kind of angelic so there’s a suspicion.

“Idia, you’re my boyfriend” Wow point blank you decided to kill him with those words, boyfriend his ass, what boyfriend, all he knows is that he prefers to be single than have a lover, also he wants to add that you are way out of his league, there’s no way you like him that way, and this is the first time you met him, was there a camera around here? The edited laughter? Where is it? He’s waiting for that to come.

Realizing that he was overthinking again, you snapped your fingers catching his attention; stating your name you tried to see if you got any reaction, but nothing. He really didn’t remember you.

You were going to be saddened by this, if it weren’t for the fact that the tips of his hairs had a slight pink on it meaning was still a chance for you to get your boyfriend back.

Okay, you two might be misunderstanding things, while Idia was observant, he can’t think straight when he’s in front of someone, his black and blue robe being a perfect cover for himself, he even had a hoodie knitted for him to cover his hair with.

You noticed that he was taller than before, raising your eyebrow, you grabbed his arm, which made him freeze up, looking at you like you just harassed him, his sweat drops. “What?”

“Since when did you get taller?” you asked, he slides your hand off of his arm, rubbing it a bit, “I don’t know?” he answered confusedly, before waving his hand dismissively, “No more questions, I’m bringing you back to Zeus” he grumbled, his stupid brother playing pranks on him again.

“What? Zeus?” you walked faster to catch up on him when he started speedwalking away, “Y’know, God of Olympus?” he said, weirded out why you didn’t know Zeus, everyone knows him.

“Wait, Zeus as in the God from long ago?” you asked further, which made Idia stop his tracks, turning to look at you, his figure looming, he looked like a grim reaper when he stands with you before, but now it’s more evident.

“What do you mean long ago?” he asked as bewildered as you are, why are you acting this way anyways? Anomaly that popped out of nowhere and almost giving him a concussion and right now you’re giving him a migraine, what’s next huh? brain aneurysm?   

“Are you not my Idia?” you frowned, looking at him closer, he exhibited a different style, he was taller, slightly shorter hair, bluish skin instead of pale.

“Your” Idia? What does that mean?

The more you open your mouth the more questions pop out, sighing he decided to cover your mouth with his hand. “Please… just shut up for a minute”

Okay, first theory! You’re not from around here, I mean you just got spat out like trash by the Tartarus and suddenly proclaiming that he’s your boyfriend, he feels bad for you, your standard is in hell if you’re dating him, you’re pretty too, a disrespect to your face really.

Second theory, which he’s leaning on more, you’re a spy sent by his brother Zeus; to make him fall for you and you break his heart and upload it to magicam or something.

If you think he’s self-deprecating too much, please, he’s just being realistic with the situation.

“First off, I am not yours” he clarified, lifting his hands as if he’s surrendering to you. “I never met you in my whole life, you’re cute but no”

Rejected by your own boyfriend, you wanted to pinch his cheeks for it, you were going to be hurt by this, but the thing is, the way he acts reminded you of the first stages of your relationship with him, he wasn’t the best with it.

“Okay,” you said, being short with him, for some reason that made him feel bad, scratching the back of his neck, he wanted to hold your cheek or hand to comfort you, an odd feeling.

“Sorry- I mean if you want to, I can act like your boyfriend or something” he murmured, his voice gradually decreasing to the point you barely heard the last words.

“It’s fine Idia, no need” not wanting to force him into that kind of thing, however, you noticed that his little fire hair started to fizzle out, panicking a bit you touched his hand, holding it, “wait I mean, okay, sure we can act”

Phew, that got his fire back up, lucky you. “Okay…” he said awkwardly coughing as he uses his tech to call for Ortho. “Ortho, can you come here?”

Ortho was impressively fast with going back to the underworld, looking the same except his clothes or rather his cyborg parts looked Greek like, it explains why you were wearing a tunic.

“Scan her” Idia said, using his eyes to signal ortho who to scan, in which Ortho grins brightly. “Okay!”

You stayed still as Ortho used his eyes to scan you, it was something that came natural for you, especially since your Ortho does that often.

“So?” Idia asked, leaning on the wall, Ortho shook his head, looking conflicted. “Nope, she doesn’t have any data around Ancient Greece, or anywhere”

“Huh” he didn’t seem surprised. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, patting Ortho’s head. “Yeah! I did another scan but there’s no indication of her presence anywhere.

So, you really were just transported by Tartarus to Ancient Greece, connecting the dots, that means Idia here is…

Noticing you staring at him in deep thought He smiles a bit, you looked funny thinking like that, pouty and all. “Since you’re really not from here, my name is Idia, God of the Underworld, and this is Ortho, my brother.” Ortho waves at you enthusiastically and he was genuinely surprised that his brother introduced him instead of himself.

“I know” you hummed, crossing your arms. “I told you already, we’re dating- “

Idia tried to cover your mouth before you spout that out but failed as Ortho’s eyes widens. “You’re dating my brother in the other world?! You mean there’s another version of us in your world?”

Oh dear, you’re in it now.

Ortho basically asked you plenty of questions, already happy that his brother pulled someone like you, you were gorgeous!

Idia was a bit happy you got along with his brother, he sometimes feels bad that he keeps Ortho in such a depressing place instead of being a normal kid outside and playing.

Also he can’t help but get flustered whenever you randomly get physically affectionate with him, he’s been trying to find a way to get you back in your world, but it’s proving to be difficult since Tartarus maybe his domain, but it’s a system that’s entirely independent from him, think of it as the pity system in his gacha games, even if you hit enough 80 pulls, it doesn’t guarantee the limited character you want.

But, as long as he can, Idia tries to make sure every time he hangs out with you is worthwhile, it’s the first time he made effort to spend time with someone, when he’s off work, he finds himself going to the guest room, asking if you wanted to come eat with him and Ortho, or sometimes, you end up in his room, playing a two-player game with him.

Ever since you came into his life, he started going out of his room more, back then he usually just… does his work and go to his room. That’s all Now he’s trying to go outside more, especially when Ortho told him that to get you back faster was by “thinking outside the box” which just meant that he should go touch some grass and let the gears in his brain think of a solution.

He didn’t really know when he fell for you, but he noticed it when you were outside with him, in the largest field that had nothing but nature around. The outfit that Ortho lend you fits your palette so perfectly, it almost made him want to take a picture.

You were admiring the view while glancing around, picking up flowers.

Confused with what you were doing he walked to you. “Hey what-“ getting cut off as you shove a bouquet of flowers on his chest, a ribbon clumsily wrapped around the stems of the flowers.

“For you” you said, smiling, making his heart skip a bit, he accepted the gift as Ortho called out for you, giving him a glance before you grab his collar, pulling him down to kiss his cheek before walking away.

That got his hair to burn bright pink, shaking from the adrenaline, he coughed awkwardly, hopefully, Ortho didn’t see what you did.

Well, he’s having a hard time finding a way to send you back home, so… it might take a while.

─────❅───── A/n: ACCCCCCK IDIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ILYSM ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽

[milkteabinniechan]

got sudden inspiration from limbo lee know and..

rockstar best friend lino who thinks he's a bad influence on you despite being in love eith you so very much. he's rough around the edges, mean, sarcastic not everyone gest him. but you only see him as the soft-spoken golden-hearted childhood friend who got hotter over the years.

angst that end with crying into eachothers arms about how much they love eachother????

🪻

♡stuck in limbo with you - minho

membership // m.list

A best friend that treats you like a princess. You tease him that he is like a bodyguard that fell in love with his client. But it was true. Painfully true. He had never said it out loud but Minho was head over heals for you and he couldn't hide it any longer. When he helped you buckle your shoes for the show.

"How do I look?" You asked so innocently.

He stood back to fully take you in. He stared in silence for a while. As if he was flipping through every page of every poetry book he had ever read to find the perfect words to describe you. He took a deep breath in and finally said, perfect.

You were in the front row like always. Cheering on your best friend, your number one. He looked so handsome up there on stage. He had a glow about him that made the rest of the world look dark. You knew that light was brightest when he was performing.

You made your way to the familiar path backstage. You nodded at the bouncers and smiled at security. You pushed the dressing room door open to see the regular scene. Half naked, beautiful girls throwing themselves on Minho. He was the brooding bad boy that everyone wanted.

You made eye contact with Minho and obnoxiously rolled your eyes. He flashes you a teasing smile before standing up and moving the girls aside. Minho made his way to you,

"Ready to go?" His eyes sparkle that familiar sparkle that you loved so much.

You nodded your head and the two of you made your way out of the dressing when one of the girls called Minho's name. He exhaled and rolled his eyes, turning around and giving the girl a firm "What?"

You watched at Minho and the girl argued, an argument that you had heard many times before with many other pretty girls. The current girl pouted and stomped her foot, demanding that Minho stay and party with her and her friends. Minho gave a careless response and told her he was busy.

The girl, now visibly upset, makes sharp eyes at you. The gears in her head turned quickly, realizing that you were Minho's aforementioned plans. She spat out an insult about you, something about the way you looked or dressed, but you couldn't really hear her.

However, what happened next was what really shocked you. Minho's hands clenched tight into fists, his body becoming stiff and rigid. The look in his eyes looked as though he could burn a hole right through that poor girl.

Minho spoke in a low, deep tone, "Everyone out, Now..."

One of Minho's bodyguard's recognized his tone and swiftly gathered everyone out of the room. You stayed close to the wall while everyone walked out of the door, the girl trailing behind at the end shooting daggers at you as she left.

You took a deep breath and walked over to Minho. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, feeling him instantly relax at your touch. He turns his head and locks eyes with you, his gaze softening when he sees your face again. Minho reached his hand out and moved a bit of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. This was the Minho that no one else got to witness. He looked at you with such admiration and love. He took care of you like no one else could.

"Are you okay?" You asked, scanning Minho's face with concern.

Minho crossed the dressing room and sat down on the couch. He let his head fall into his hands and sigh deeply, "I don't know."

Exhaustion was painted across Minho's strong features. You sat down next to him and rested your head on his shoulder. You breathed in his scent, searching for the words that he needed to hear. You opened your hand near Minho's lap, letting him intertwine his fingers with yours.

"I'm just... So tired." Minho said finally. Tears began to trickle down his face. You watched the man you love start to crumble in front of you. Your heart ached for him, more than your heart could ever ache.

"Minho. I'm going to tell you this because... Because I have to," you started, your heart racing rapidly.

Minho sniffled and turned his head toward you, curious and eyes wide. You took a deep breath and continued,

"Minho, I love you. I love you so much it hurts. It physically hurts to love you, to see the life you've chosen. And I... I could make you happy. You could choose me."

The tears in Minho's eyes matched your own as the two of you sat in a emotional silence. His face was unreadable as his body leaned towards you. A deep kiss hits your lips with a haste that sets your entire body ablaze. Tears continued to fall down both of your faces as your deepen the kiss. The kiss was the kiss you always hoped it would be, but in the back of your mind you couldn't help but remind yourself that Minho still hadn't said anything...

[fryingpan1234567]

aaaaaanyways. pride month at Camp Half Blood?

if you remember that one post from a while ago (general hc’s about chb), I did say I would do a fully pride post eventually

so without further ado, I present to all my lovely gay demigods:

PRIDE MONTH AT CHB🗣️🗣️

SO we’ve already discussed the decorations of some of the cabins, like Percy putting rainbow hippocampi scales all over the walls, the Demeter and Persephone cabins growing colorful flowers all over their roofs, the Hecate cabin and its Sentient Gay Door

I like to think the Iris cabin is just fully blasting rainbows all the time it looks like a Minecraft beacon

they play capture the flag every June with a pride flag that has the CHB logo on it

limited edition CHB pride merch😭

Mr. D defending trans campers by driving bigots slightly insane long enough to slap themselves and then go back to normal

Y’ALL KNOW ABOUT THE PRONOUN CORRECTION AIR HORNS? THAT’S THE ENTIRE APOLLO CABIN + LEO AND PERCY

Some ignorant prick about a transmasc camper: “Oh yeah she—“

Percy: *AIR HORN* “IT’S HE, BITCH”

Ignorant prick: “Okay Jesus I’m sorry”

A different ignorant prick: *makes some dumb joke about “always being able to tell” and receives at least seven different air horns from all the Apollo campers in the vicinity*

Leo’s been following this one really irritating chick around all day because she can’t figure out one of his sibling’s genders and blasting her in the face every time she fucks up their pronouns😭😭😭

anyways yeah I like to imagine there’s a demigod pride festival somewhere, maybe in New York

or no there’s demigods everywhere I bet they have parade floats all the time in lots of cities and the Mist conceals the “fireworks” which are actually just godly light shows

Apollo rocks up to camp in a rainbow crop top and a pink drink from Starbucks just to sing Born This Way in the middle of the day and then dip again

Aphrodite blessing random queer couples with finding perfect date setups “conveniently” in their paths

all the gods physically restraining Hera when she tries to go fuck with Jason while he’s on a date w Leo

Percy and Annabeth in matching shirts that say ✨BEST BI✨ with the Best Buy price tag logo in the middle

Nico got glitterbombed on June 1st the second he stepped out of his cabin by the entire Apollo cabin (and Jason) and is still finding sparkles in his hair a week later

Aphrodite kids are walking dictionaries of all the rainbow terms, somehow, and they also all know which days in June are for which awareness or pride or whatever flag

campers who transitioned over the school year and coming back to camp a different gender and their godly parent re-claims them as their true self

Percy “I can’t believe I used to think I was straight” Jackson educating some of the younger campers on bisexuality and how, no, you don’t always know right away

Annabeth “I had a crush on Thalia and Luke at the same time and it was horrible” Chase always reassuring the nervous kids that there’s nothing wrong with being queer (and that she’ll fight any homophobic family members they may have)

actually they kind of all do that

Some little kid: “Well……. I don’t wanna tell my stepdad, he might kick me out”

Percy, remembering that his dad kept Medusa’s head after it got sent to Olympus: “Give me your address, I have an idea”

Piper will verbally eviscerate anybody she catches being even remotely homophobic. I mean she will swipe phones out of her siblings’ hands to tell off some ignorant grandmother

Jason does NOT get into physical altercations outside of sparring and literal war, but the closest he ever got was after hearing someone call Nico a slur (Percy and Leo had to physically drag him away from the other guy)

William Solace has white cowboy boots. I Will Start Sobbing On The Spot

Percy and Jason wore matching skirts for the pride festival and it was great— these 6-foot-plus brick shithouses of heroes who have single-handedly won wars aggressively waving tiny pride flags at each other and dancing to IT GIRL on the quad

Cecil and Lou Ellen made these magic rainbow smoke bombs, crawled up on the roof of the Hermes cabin, and slingshotted them into the masses Just Because™️

(Will’s hair was blue and pink for weeks)

RAINBOW WAR PAINT FOR CAPTURE THE FLAG.

Clarisse fucking kicked someone into the lake because they made fun of one of her siblings’ dyed hair

Connor thought it would be funny to leave a mini pan flag on top of Mr. D’s Diet Coke stash, mostly as a harmless joke, but the next day he noticed Mr. D had tucked it into his horrible Hawaiian shirt pocket like a handkerchief😭

watching Love, Simon in the amphitheater for movie night and half the campers had to excuse themselves early for sobbing too hard

Malcolm and Annabeth reread Red White and Royal Blue every summer. They say they’re Henry and June, Connor is Alex, and Percy is Nora

(this is confirmed when the two of them start a foot fight in the dining pavilion with a Chipotle burrito)

Leo IMing Jo and Emmie to wish them a happy pride (and tell Georgina and Waystation I said hello)

Piper and Leo getting into a HEATED debate about whether Velma Dinkley is a lesbian or not

”YOU CANNOT LOOK AT HER OVERSIZED-SWEATER-OVER-MY-PROM-DRESS ASS AND TELL ME YOU THINK SHE’S TOTALLY STRAIGHT—“

”WHAT SHE AND SHAGGY HAD WAS REAL, BEAUTY QUEEN! HOT DOG WATER AIN’T GOT NOTHIN ON NORVILLE ROGERS—“

”LEO! HER NAME IS MARCIE! AND THEY ARE EACH OTHER’S W A L L P A P E R S .”

Jason, sitting in the middle of them, now deaf in both ears: Lupa give me strength

GUYS PLEASE SEND ME SPECIFIC SHIPS OR CHARACTERS TO WRITE PRIDE HC’S FOR I WOULD LOVE TO🙏🙏🙏🙏

[another-random-paradise]

Listen, I found your account by coincidence and it was the most beautiful coincidence.... Your writing is very wonderful and I am happy that the rq is open

so can i rq a hc about twst? Where the reader loves agriculture and have a garden in ramshackle where they grow flowers and some vegetables as a hobby, which impresses their friends?

Honestly I don't have any specific characters in my mind so you are free to choose any 4 characters or less (I love everyone, so I'll be satisfied with anyone.)

And of course you are free to accept my request or reject it🪷🪻🌻

Grown with Love

So sorry about the long wait!! School has been a lot recently ;( But thank you for the request and the kind words!! I don't have the greenest thumb, so the garden details are kept very vague-

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

Agriculture loving reader with a garden

Characters: Ruggie, Azul, Malleus

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None that i can think off

Ruggie

-When he first hears about it, he doesn't care all that much; it's just a hobby to him. But because he cares about you, he listens to you talk about it!

-When you mention that you also grow food in your garden, that's when he gets interested! He's pretty curious about what kind of foods you grow, what kind of care they need, ect...

-He comes visit ever so often and watches you work, he likes how concentrated you look! That, and the scenery of your garden with all the different flowers and plants is a very pretty and relaxing sight, perfect for whenever he needs a break from Leona

-If you ever make him a meal with food from your garden, he will very simply adore you- He wants to eat it slowly to truly enjoy it, but also scarf it down because of how good it tastes 

-Eventually, he tries to make a deal with you: He helps you out around the garden in exchange for some of the food you grow! If you accept, you best believe he'll give it his all, he makes sure to help you let your plants thrive! (Not that they don't already under just you're care <3) 

-If you agree to the deal, he'll keep some of the food to bring home to his grandma and the kids of his slum during the holidays, so that they have something fresh to eat for once

-All in all, he really enjoys the scenery, and would love to help out! 

Azul

-As you could have possibly guessed, even if the two of you are close friends, his first thought is money. 

-He asks to sign a contract with you; you give him fresh food from your garden in exchange for proper payment and/or free meals at the lounge. Once again, your choice if you want to accept or decline! 

-Aside from that, your garden does genuinely fascinate him! He grew up in the sea, he most likely hasn't seen most land plants, let alone the way they grow, so most of things in the garden are completely new to him

-He likes simply relaxing in your garden, watching how your different plants develop and grow, your garden becomes a bit of a save haven for him, whenever the twins or work stresses him out

-He often compliments you, wether on how good your work ethic is, how great your plants are doing, how beautiful your garden is, ect. And he does genuinely mean every one of them!

-He says he is at your garden so often, because it's a good getaway from his stress, but really your garden and all the unfamiliar land stuff just fascinates him 

Malleus

-Your garden will permanently become part of his route for his night walk, if you allow it

-He is genuinely fascinated by your work, he loves the way your garden looks, and isn't afraid to praise you for it! 

-If you have a flower or two that's native to briar valley, this man has stars in his eyes. He may give you a tip or two about how to get to thrive as greatly as they can, should you ask. they are definitely one of his favorite flowers  in the garden!

-He'll take the food from your garden, or meals cooked with it, over any other meal any day of the week! especially if the other choice is lillia's cooking

-He says he can taste how much love and care  is put into growing something, so your food logically tastes better to him than something grown and cooked as a job instead of as a hobby. 

-During shared nightly walks or really just whenever the two of you hang out, it'll be a mutual understanding that both of you can freely talk about your interests! 

-He'll tell you about gargoyles and you can talk as much as you want about agriculture 

-If you mention having a favorite plant, or that you have one that you've been wanting to grow but just haven't been able too for whatever reason, he'll definitely get you the seeds and whatever else is required for it!

This was such a cute thing to write!! Did struggle a bit because i don't know much about agriculture despite living next to at least three different farms-

Feedback is welcome!! just be nice!

Hope you have a nice day/night <3

[enwifen]

PAINT ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR PRETTY GIRLS 𓂃𓏲࣪ ˖࣪

🍃 ˖࣪ ──── a pretty girl like you has no reason to be insecure about the way you look but, you still feel self conscious anyway… luckily your lovely husband is here to help.

pairing. artist!sunghoon x fem reader wc. 1.8k

𝒯oday just wasn’t your day.

You could just feel that something was off, your usual happy-go-lucky mood absent from the moment you woke up. ‘It’s okay, everyone has those days’ you say to yourself, trying to find a small spark of happiness inside you as you get ready for the day.

Sunlight spills through the windows and seeing as your husband was known to be a morning person, you weren’t surprised to see the space next to you empty. He was most likely in his art studio downstairs, inspiration often hitting him first thing in the morning.

Your eyes flicker up to your reflection while you brush your teeth. What you see in the mirror only seems to further sour your mood. To anyone else? You look the same as you did yesterday and all the days before that. To you? You don’t.

It’s little things too. Your skin texture just slightly more noticeable, dark spots more prominent… even that pesky pimple on your forehead looks more red than it did yesterday even after the cream you put on it.

Again, you try and push all the negativity to the back of your mind. Hoping to spit it all down the drain as you exit the bathroom.

As expected, you find your husband sat in front of his easel with a palette and brush in hand. He greets you with a smile though it quickly fades as he almost immediately picks up on your low mood.

“Morning sweetheart, is everything alright? You seem a little…”

A sigh leaves your lips, as much as you want to say you’re fine you know you can’t hide anything from Sunghoon.

“No…” you pout. He frowns and puts his supplies down, wiping his hands before opening his arms. You walk over to sit on his knee, allowing him to hug you.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks softly.

“I just…” you bite your lip, trailing off.

“It’s okay, take your time baby.” Sunghoon says, one of his hands coming up to stroke your hair.

“I feel really ugly today… I woke up feeling off this morning and as soon as i saw myself in the mirror I—”

“Shh, shh, it’s alright… I hate when my girl is so upset, what makes you think you’re ugly, princess? You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

Sunghoon listens attentively as you list your insecurities. He shakes his head a little as you talk. He doesn’t mean to invalidate your feelings but, at the same time, he also can’t fathom how someone as ethereal and angelic looking as his wife could possibly think they’re anything but that.

“Oh Y/n… if only you could see what I—, you know what? Why don’t you take a seat over there.” He says, nodding over to the stool a few feet behind his easel.

“Hoon I really don’t feel like being painted right now—”

“Please, my love? If you really don’t want to I won’t push you but…” you gnaw on your bottom lip, on one hand you don’t want to have your insecurities drawn but at the same time you know Sunghoon would never do anything to upset you further so… you kinda wanna see what he’s getting at.

You lift yourself up and go to sit in front of him.

“Perfect…” he mutters, picking up his brush and watercolour palette. You always loved whenever Sunghoon would use watercolours.

Throughout the course of your relationship, Sunghoon had drawn you countless times. Doodling you in his notebook during classes when you still went, sketching you during one of your picnic dates… the list goes on. He was precise with each and every stroke, wanting every piece of art to be perfect.

So even though it didn’t take him long to finish, you could tell this wasn’t just some half assed piece of artwork he was drawing just to boost your self esteem.

“Love? I’m finished, why don’t you come and take a look?” And you do, rising from your seat and walking to stand beside him.

The painting is… unreal. Simply saying that it’s beautiful is an understatement. Simply saying that you were beautiful is an understatement.

Splashes of your favourite colours serve as the background, making you seem vibrant even on your dullest day. Each pencil line that joins to create you and your features is soft, eliminating the harsh critiques you had for your face. Sparkles replaced your dark spots and even that pimple you hated so much was replaced by a small flower. With everything you hated about your face, Sunghoon made his love blossom from it.

He turns to look up on you, hand on the small of your back rubbing soothingly. “Do you like it?”

“I… I love it but… hoonie this isn’t me.”

“You’re right, it’s not just you, it’s how I see you.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes at that.

“Now do you see? How it’s impossible for me to see you as anything but the pretty girl you are? I never understood back when you used to ask me why I stayed with you… why wouldn’t I? Y/n, you’re beauty itself.” He says earnestly, you can hear how Sunghoon means every word as he wipes your tears away.

“You’re too sweet.” You sniffle, Sunghoon chuckles lightly in response.

“I only speak the truth, baby.” He says, standing to pull you into a proper hug. When it came to feeling insecure, hearing ‘stop, you’re literally so pretty’ wasn’t enough sometimes. You could smile and nod but it didn’t actually make you feel better. Now, having such a loving husband by your side, your insecurities could easily be pushed to the side.

Maybe they would come back later, maybe they wouldn’t. One things for sure, with the way Sunghoon looks at you as if you were the prettiest painting in the gallery, you could care less about how you looked right now.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Thanks to Sunghoon, you didn’t feel as bad as you did this morning which meant you were still good to attend the opening of his new art gallery.

“Are you sure? You know you don’t have to, love.”

“Of course I do! You know I wanna come and be supportive of my favourite artist~”

A pink hue spreads across Sunghoon’s cheeks. Cute, you thought. Even after being such a successful painter and getting compliments on his work daily, still he would blush at any praise given to him by you.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He says, laughing at you being the one to blush now. Being an artist meant Sunghoon had a keen eye for detail which always came in handy when it came to buying dresses for you.

It was probably best you didn’t ask how much your dress cost, choosing to smile and accept the gift instead. It fit your frame perfectly, the light material flowing in the wind as you walked out into the night.

In Sunghoon’s eyes you were truly something out of a dream. His dream come true.

You watch as the city lights pass you by, tuning out the sounds of your husband on the phone making some last minute arrangements, you assume.

A sense of pride fills your chest as you take in the full gallery, watching the various people admire your husband’s artwork. He deserves it, every single bit of praise as he stands by one of his paintings, smiling and humbly accepting all the compliments.

You’re perfectly content standing on your own for a little while, sipping on a flute or champagne. You smile at the memory of Sunghoon basically showing you off to everyone an hour prior.

“Ahh, with a pretty wife like that I’d wanna show her off all the time too…”

“It makes sense, he’s a handsome guy, of course his wife is beautiful too.”

“No wonder they’ve been together so long, I’d do anything to keep a gorgeous girl like that by my side.”

Those were just a few of the comments you heard. Safe to say your low self esteem was nowhere to be found.

A glance at the clock tells you the event would soon be coming to an end. You were sure everyone had gotten a chance to look at all the different pieces your husband made, all except for one…

A glass case stood in the middle of the room, inside a white sheet covering what seemed to be a statue…? Of some sort.

The chime of Sunghoon’s fork tapping his glass garners everyone’s attention. He gently tugs you to stand beside him again as he speaks.

“Hello everyone, once again I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight… it’s always been my dream to open my own gallery and even though this one isn’t the first, I’m still so grateful for all of you that have attended.”

You both smile as Sunghoon receive an enthusiastic round of applause. You both bow politely.

“Special thanks to my parents who have always told me to follow my dreams and, of course, to my beautiful wife Y/n for always being my biggest supporter and source of inspiration.” He says, you’re sure your cheeks hurt from smiling so big but you can’t help it.

“This last piece of artwork is really special to me, I love all of my art piece but this one holds a special place in my heart, just like the certain someone it was created after.” Your brows furrow a little in disbelief but you keep smiling, body vibrating with excited nerves as you start to catch on. “I’ve only just started to get into sculpting so it may not be the best but, I’m proud of it regardless… now without further ado, allow me to reveal my newest masterpiece.”

Sunghoon smiles, leaving your side to open the glass case. Carefully tugging off the white sheet.

You turn around to look and your jaw drops, covering your mouth you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes.

The sculpture is you. And not just you, but the painting Sunghoon had made of you earlier that day. He must’ve drawn it from memory but it still looked beautiful regardless, it was Sunghoon behind the easel after all.

The lights in the gallery darken to allow a spotlight to shine on the sculpture though it also highlights you. Every single detail is highlighted and all the audience can do is stare and awe.

Sunghoon walks back around to you, smiling warmly.

“How do you like it, baby?”

“I… hoonie are you kidding me? I love it!” You exclaim, ignoring the tears that fall. You don’t realise how they sparkle under the spotlight, as if your tears were made out of crystals. Softly, Sunghoon wipes them away. Another round of applause ensues, though you’re still in your small little bubble with him.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The gallery is empty now, you and Sunghoon being the only ones left. Sat on one of the benches, your head resting on his shoulder, still admiring the sculpture he made of you. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so loved before.

“It’s beautiful…”

“You’re beautiful.”

You giggle softly. “Stop it.”

“Never.” He grins.

[adirtylittleheart]

REMEDY You and Matt are suck in a house full of people during a relentless summer heat wave. With frustrations running high from the heat and lack of sex, you find a way to help and remedy that. Warning: 18+ Smut. Fucking. P in V. Public (but private). MattXfem reader & oc (see below) Notes: Please note that I am putting this up as a READER and an OC. So, the first section will be the READER and the second is OC. I've had so many people ask me to please make it reader and others want it OC. So, I'm going to try and cater to all. I hope this works...if not I'll return to the drawing board and try something else. Maybe post two separate? Let me know what you think - I'll see DM's quicker cause somedays I don't have the time to get on and I have a lot of activity. THANK YOU ALL THOUGH FOR READING. YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME.

REMEDY The heat was unbearable. The Sturniolo family went to The Cape for the summer, with girlfriends and significant others tagging along. The house wasn’t huge and some of us had to share sleeping spaces and set-up camp in the living room. We were tight knit and we all got along like a house on fire, so it wasn’t a problem but lack of sleep on the hot, sweltering nights was another story. With severe heatwaves come some complications like; power outages and malfunctioning air conditioners. It was the kind of heat that pressed against one’s skin. Where you wanted to fan yourself down, but all that seemed to do was move the hot air around. The hot, humid breeze did nothing but tease with the promise of relief.

‘’The fucking weather!’’ Matt groaned, ‘’This was supposed to be a great trip for us…for you,’’ he said looking disappointed

‘’Well,’’ I said, and leaned forward then gave him a kiss, ‘’if it’s any conciliation, I’m having a great time.’’

‘’You would in this heat,’’ Matt said through a laugh, ‘’you’re the only one here that will get through this unscathed. You’re the only one here that actually enjoys the heat, which makes me wonder what the fuck is wrong with you. How come you’re so perfect and not even the heat will get you?’’

I laughed, ‘’so…I’ve meant to tell you a long time ago, but there was never really a perfect time to do so, but I’m from this little planet called -’’ I was saying when Matt let out a laugh cutting me off

‘’Shut up,’’ he said and pushed his lips to mine. Just a few days ago, I accidentally overheard Matt talking to Nick and Chris and found out a few things that didn’t know, and that had me feeling like I was the luckiest and most blessed person to walk the earth. Mind you, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I sure am glad I stopped in my tracks when I walked past the kitchen and heard my name. They say you never hear anything go about yourself when you eavesdrop but I’m a testament to that being complete bullshit. He had said to them that he knew without a doubt that I was the one he wanted to marry, have kids with, and spend the rest of his life with. That he loved that I loved his family as much as they loved me and that I was always willing to help out… and most of all he loved that I was definitely up for anything. The biggest smile crossed my face when he said he loves how I make everything fun and exciting in his eyes. He also said he loved that I came across as a little saint to everyone else, but I was definitely a little devil when it came to fucking. At that point I walked away – I was happy and it was all I ever needed to hear.

Matt sighed next to me as we lay on the blow-up mattress. The heat really was relentless and stifling. Every time we moved, it felt as if the sheets were clinging to us. A fan was blowing cool air but it was as helpful and equivalent to puckering one’s lips up and blowing air out of them. It was so hot, we were all struggling to sleep. I sensed that Matt was not only frustrated by the heat but also that with so many people in a house sharing, we couldn’t do much in the sex department, though we certainly found ways. Matt and I said that we would sleep in the living room on a blow-up mattress while Chris and his girlfriend shared the couch.

‘’Are you okay?’’ I whispered when Matt once again let out a groan

‘’It’s like we’re in a desert or something,’’ Matt mumbled and sat up. He reached for a glass of water on a nearby side table and made some kind of sound then he looked at me with horror. ‘’The fucking ice has melted in the glass already,’’ he said, his voice laced with disbelief. It concerned me because Matt was generally calm but he was definitely agitated by the heat.

I lay for a moment, staring at the ceiling wondering how I could help him. My eyes swung from one end of the ceiling to the other, then back again. I suddenly sat up, finding the remedy to maybe both the heat and lack of sex problem…even if it was only a short reprieve. I slid off the mattress and then padded to his side, and put my hand out, palms up.

‘’Come on,’’ I whispered

‘’You two might as well just talk, and not whisper,’’ Chris said

‘’Shut up,’’ Matt said loudly through a laugh

‘’Fuck off,’’ Chris replied with a chuckle

‘’Sorry, Chris,’’ I said with a giggle. They never ceased to make me laugh with their friendly banter

‘’Nah (y/n), I mean it’s so hot, we can’t sleep anyway,’’ Chris said, his girlfriend giving a ‘’mhm’’ in agreement.

Matt put his hand in mine and I pulled him up. ‘’Where are we going?’’ he asked, his movements were slower than mine in the heat.

‘’A walk,’’ I said softly as I lead him to the kitchen. I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of ice cold water and handed it to Matt as he looked at the time on the microwave, it’s glowing green telling him it was two in the morning. He sighed thinking it was a long way from morning but still the weather on the news had said it would be an equally hot day, if not hotter. I hesitated closing the door because the cool air felt so good on my hot skin. I had on what I can only describe as a t-shirt that I had taken a pair of scissors to. Matt had given me one of his old t-shirts and we cut the sleeves off, along with the neck line, widening it to help with the heat. I really didn’t mind the heat, but this? This was something else. I felt for everyone else because if I was feeling it, they must have been suffering. I closed the door and smiled at Matt, who gave me a weak smile back.

We slipped out the door, quietly into the night, ‘’Should I put a t shirt on?’’ Matt asked

‘’Show me one man who has a shirt on in this weather and I’ll give him a thousand dollars,’’ I said

‘’Does that include me and does it still stand until we get back?’’ Matt asked

I giggled and smacked his tight ass, ‘’always,’’ I replied

‘’Where are we going?’’ Matt asked and slipped his hand into mine. Our fingers intertwined and he lifted our hands and then he gave my hand a kiss. ‘’Thanks for this, it is slightly better out here.’’

I smiled at Matt, ‘’the park,’’ I said simply

The moon was full and illuminated the way for us. It was quiet but for the water lapping to the shore. The roads were dead and the park deserted. People had either passed out from the heat or were sitting in front of fans hoping to cool down. The park was relatively close to the house, but hidden and nestled amongst trees. I led Matt to the swings and Matt sat on one while I sat on the other, right next to him. I started swinging softly while Matt only moved back and forth slightly on the swing, keeping his feet on the ground. He took a sip of water, and offered me some, but I shook my head with a warm smile.

‘’Matt? Remember that park we went to at Evan’s house?’’ I asked and stopped the swing, then got off, ‘’you know, when he had that party?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ Matt said as he put the bottled water on the ground, and then it hit him. His eyes went big and his award-winning smile formed on his face. How could he have forgotten that?

‘’Yeah?’’ I asked and bit my bottom lip seductively

‘’Fuck yes! Hop on,’’ Matt said and I squealed softly with excitement as I grabbed the chains and lifted myself onto Matt’s lap, sliding my legs over his as I sat down, my legs handing over his on their side of the swing. Matt smiled, because the last time we both had fumbled a lot trying to work out how to do it but now we seemed to have mastered it. Well…we were going to find out.

‘’How did I get so lucky?’’ Matt asked me softly

I smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek and tilted his face up a fraction, ‘’I’m the lucky one,’’ I whispered and lightly brushed my lips against his.

My hand slid down his neck, and his chest, and then my fingers danced above his shorts elastic, as Matt deepened the kiss. It was never pedestrian. His kisses always made me feel desired, and wanted. I got drunk on our kisses. Matt moaned into the kiss and I felt his hands by mine. I knew he was getting impatient so I moved my hand and brought it to my pussy and moved my panties to the side while he pushed his shorts down as much as he could. The small piece of material was wet already and I felt Matt’s cock, now free of his shorts, as hard as a rock, between us. That alone sent every nerve in my body tingling.

His hands found the straps of my shirt and he pushed them down, over my shoulders. I smiled into the kiss and pulled my arms out the straps, letting the material fall softly. Matt broke the kiss, eager to get a nipple into his hungry mouth. I moaned, dropping my head back and arched my back, pushing my titties forward so Matt could take in more. He was a genius with his tongue no matter where it was on my body. I bit my bottom lip and slid my hand between us and closed my hand around Matt’s thick shaft. He was rock solid hard and I smiled wickedly because his pre-cum had run down his shaft, leaving him slick. He sucked in a sharp breath from the touch on his painfully erect dick but it felt so fucking good. I lifted myself, aimed his dick at my little tight entrance, then I slid onto his dick agonizingly slowly, savouring every inch going in. We both groaned loudly with simultaneous pleasure.

‘’Oh god (y/n),’’ Matt moaned, ‘’you have no idea how good that feels.’’

‘’Oh, but I do,’’ I said with a grin and licked my hand of the pre-cum, making Matt swear under his breath. ‘’Start swinging. We don’t want to be caught,’’ I purred.

‘’I’ve been wanting to fuck you all day’’ Matt said curling his hands around the chains,’’this won’t take long.’’

I smiled, as I also curled my hands around the chains, the cool metal making me even more aroused, ‘’me too.''

Matt laughed and pushed back with his legs and then let us fall forward on the swing as he tucked his legs back. He sure was going to have one hell of a workout keeping the swing in motion. I knew without a doubt he could handle it though. We were soon gliding through the air, back and forth. Every time we went back, I would slide down his dick and when we got to the furthest point, having to go back down, I would push down on him as forces of nature worked. We moaned loudly with sheer pleasure every time that happened and Matt groaned feeling himself deep inside of my tight, wet pussy. When we went back down, I was lifted up, his dick sliding halfway out, exposing him to the cooler air, then he would slip back into my hot pussy.. The contrast of heat and cool air in motion sent a pleasant shiver up his spine, never feeling anything like it.

Matt loved everything – the way we had to be so close, the way we molded into each other, the fact that we had to rely upon and trust each other. The tightness around his hard throbbing cock, the way my hair flew out and fanned behind me when we went up, and then around me when we went back down, and…. he loved the look on my face with my breasts firmly in front of him. He wanted to touch them, grab them but he couldn’t. Fuck! It was the most blissful torture ever. The deep penetration on the up was something different than normal penetration. It was a force that could only be achieved in their current position and situation.

Matt could tell I was close as my pussy started fluttering around his cock, my body got tense and I dropped my head.

‘’Ooh, Matt…shit, Matt…’’ I said with urgency as I felt my muscles tightening, the rush coursing through me and pure ecstasy shoot over my body. I let one hand go from the chains and put it around Matt’s shoulders, looking for more purchase. I pushed my face into the side of his neck as my walls clasped around Matt like a vice grip. The sheer strength around him set him on the very edge. My loud screams and moans were muffled as I buried my face into his neck and shoulder. I let go of the chains with my other hand to grip him tighter as Matt brought us to a stop. My fingers dug into his muscles and my body shook against him. Once we were stationary Matt grabbed my ass and lifted me, and then pushed me back down on his cock.

‘’FUCK YES, (y/n),’’ Matt moaned as he felt a splash. The sound of my moans, the feel of my skin, and my smell were so intoxicating to Matt as he slammed me down on him again and let out a growl as he felt his orgasm shoot out from the base of his balls and run through him. I lifted my face and we locked eyes for a second before my eyes went big as I sucked in a breath.

‘’Kiss me,’’ Matt said through clenched teeth knowing I was coming yet again. Matt wanted to scream too, because it was so incredible but he knew he couldn’t as my walls locked around him again. He shot a massive load into me, rope after rope, after rope. After holding it in all day, wanting me all day…it built up. I pushed my lips to his, our tongues immediately meeting. The kiss muffled most of my screams and moans but a few escaped into the quiet night. Neither of us cared at the very moment. Matt’s dick twitched at the last spray into my pussy, and I still lifted and rammed myself down on him two more times before I slumped onto him, breaking the kiss. Matt slid his arms around me and sat like that for five minutes, panting, trying to catch our breath. In the distance, we heard laughter, and Matt slowly slid his hands back down my back as I sat up straight again. He found the straps of my shirt and then pulled them up. I then pushed my arms into them and he let the straps rest on my shoulders. He pulled his still-hard dick out of my warm, wet, overflowing pussy, a low moan escaping him, not wanting to but having to pull out.

Matt looked over my shoulder and I turned my head as we heard low talking in the distance. A couple were walking on the side walk but I knew the couple couldn’t see us, and that we had the vantage point.. Clearly two lovers where out on a walk also trying to escape the heat. They were in the distance, but I could tell they were holding hands and very much into each other. I watched them disappear into a thick of trees and I turned back to Matt.

Matt smiled and gave me a half nod, ‘’they should try the swings,’’ he said and I burst out laughing. I pushed a hand between ourselves and pulled my panties back into place and then grabbed the chains and weakly pulled myself up and climbed off of Matt. As my feet hit the ground, I tried to stand, but my legs buckled and Matt grabbed me to stop me from falling.

‘’I’m fucking spent,’’ I said with laugh

‘’That was…something else. Fucking amazing,’’ Matt said through his own laugh

‘’You’re a mess,’’ I said

‘’So are you,’’ Matt said with a laugh. We were both covered in sweat with our combination of cum and juices sticking to our skin, our hair matted but looking so satisfied and elated.

I looked down and saw some of Matt’ cum running down my leg. I smiled and took my index finger and ran it up the zigzag line it had formed, collecting it. I then lifted my finger to my mouth and licked it off.

Matt smiled, ‘’you're so fucking hot,’’ he said, noting I didn’t do that for him, I did it for myself. I wanted to taste him, savor him.

I let my eyes fall back on Matt as I swallowed and smiled. ‘’I can clean you up,’’ I said

‘’Not this time. You can hardly stand... we’ll take a quick shower when we get home,’’ Matt said and somewhere along the line, Matt had put his dick away and fixed his shorts because he pulled me down onto his lap.

‘’Do you feel better?’’ I asked Matt softly

‘’You have no idea. Thank you, baby. I love you so much,’’ Matt said and gave me a kiss.

‘’Good,’’ I said and ran my fingertips along his stubbly jaw, ‘’I love you too.’’

‘’I’ll piggy back you home,’’ Matt said and smiled to himself because he had the best little vixen saint and I was the remedy he needed. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! You are very much appreciated. <3

For the OC Version babies! The heat was unbearable. The Sturniolo family went to The Cape for the summer, with girlfriends and significant others tagging along. The house wasn’t huge and some had to share sleeping spaces and a few even set up camp in the living room. They were all tight-knit and everyone got along like a house on fire, so it wasn’t a problem but lack of sleep on the hot, sweltering nights was another story. With severe heatwaves came some complications like; power outages and malfunctioning air conditioners. It was the kind of heat that pressed against one's skin. Where you wanted to fan yourself down but all that did was move the hot air around. The hot, humid breeze did nothing but tease with the promise of relief.

‘’The fucking weather!’’ Matt groaned. This was supposed to be a great trip for us…for you,’’ he said looking disappointed

‘’Well,’’ Eden said and leaned forward to give him a kiss, ‘’if it’s any conciliation, I’m having a great time.’’

‘’You would in this heat,’’ Matt said through a laugh, ‘’you’re the only one here that will get through this unscathed. You’re the only one here that actually enjoys the heat, which makes me wonder what the fuck is wrong with you. How come you’re so perfect and not even the heat will get you?’’

Eden laughed, ‘’so…I’ve meant to tell you a long time ago, but there was never really a perfect time to do so, but I’m from this little planet called -’’ Eden was saying when Matt let out a laugh

‘’Shut up,’’ he said and pushed his lips to hers. He knew with out a doubt that she was the one he wanted to marry, have kids with and spend the rest of his life with. She loved his family as much as they loved her and she was always ready and willing to help… and he loved that she was definitely up for anything. She made everything fun and exciting. He loved that she came across as little saint to everyone else, but he knew she was definitely a little devil when it came to fucking. She adored and loved Matt, and never a day went by that she didn’t feel lucky and blessed to have Matt and his family in her life.

Matt sighed as he and Eden lay next to each other on the blow-up mattress. The heat really was relentless and stifling. Every time they moved, it felt like the sheets were clinging to their bodies. A fan was blowing cool air but it was as helpful, and equivalent to puckering one’s lips up and blowing air out of them. It was so hot, that they were all struggling to sleep. Eden sensed Matt was not only frustrated by the heat but also that with so many people in a house sharing, they couldn’t do much in the sex department, though they certainly found ways. Matt and Eden said they would sleep in the living room on a blow-up mattress while Chris and his girlfriend, shared the couch.

‘’Are you okay?’’ Eden whispered when Matt once again let out a groan

‘’It’s like we’re in a desert or something,’’ Matt mumbled and sat up. He reached for a glass of water on a nearby side table and made some kind of sound and then looked at Eden with horror. ‘’The fucking ice has melted in the glass already,’’ he said, his voice laced with disbelief. It concerned her because Matt was generally calm but he was definitely agitated by the heat.

Eden lay for a moment, staring at the ceiling wondering how she could help him. Her eyes swung from one end of the ceiling to the other, then back again. She suddenly sat up, finding the remedy to maybe both the heat and lack of sex problem…even if it was only a short reprieve. She slid off the mattress then padded to his side and put her hand out, palms up.

‘’Come on,’’ she whispered

‘’You two might as well just talk, and not whisper,’’ Chris said

‘’Shut up,’’ Matt said loudly through a laugh

‘’Fuck off,’’ Chris replied with a chuckle

‘’Sorry, Chris,’’ Eden said with a giggle. They never ceased to make her laugh with their friendly banter.

‘’Nah Edie, I mean it’s so hot, I can’t sleep anyway,’’ Chris said and his girlfriend let out a ‘mhm’ in agreement.

Matt put his hand in Edens and she pulled him up. ‘’Where are we going?’’ he asked, his movements were slower than Eden’s in the heat.

‘’A walk,’’ Eden said as she led him to the kitchen. She first opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of ice cold water then handed it to Matt as he looked at the time on the microwave, it’s glowing green telling him it was two in the morning. He sighed thinking it was a long way from morning but still the weather on the news had said it would be an equally hot day if not hotter. Eden hesitated to close the fridge door because the cool air felt so good against her hot skin. She was wearing an old t-shirt Matt had given her and they took the scissors to it, cutting the sleeves off and widening the neck area for her to be cooler. She really didn’t mind the heat but this? This was something else. She felt for everyone else because if she was feeling it, they must have been suffering.

They slipped out the door quietly into the night, ‘’Should I put a t shirt on?’’ Matt asked

‘’Show me one man who has a shirt on in this weather and I’ll give him a thousand dollars,’’ Eden said

‘’Does that include me and does it still stand until we get back?’’ Matt asked

Eden giggled and smacked his tight ass, ‘’always,’’ she said

‘’Where are we going?’’ Matt asked and slipped his hand into Eden’s. Their fingers intertwined and he lifted their hands and then gave her hand a kiss. ‘’Thanks for this, it is slightly better out here.’’

She smiled at Matt, ‘’the park,’’ Eden said simply

The moon was full and illuminated the way for them. It was quiet but for the water lapping to the shore. The roads were dead and the park deserted. People had either passed out from the heat or were sitting in front of fans hoping to cool down. The park was relatively close to the house, but hidden and nestled amongst trees. Eden led Matt to the swings and Matt sat on one while she sat on the other, right next to him. She started swinging softly while Matt only moved back and forth slightly keeping his feet on the ground. He took a sip of water and offered Eden some, but she declined, with a shake of her head and a warm smile.

‘’Matt? Remember that park we went to at Evan’s house?’’ Eden asked and stopped the swing, then got off, ‘’you know, when he had that party?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ Matt said as he put the bottle of water on the ground, and then it hit him. His eyes went big and a smile formed on his face. How could he have forgotten that?

‘’Yeah?’’ she asked and bit her bottom lip

‘’Fuck yes. Hop on,’’ Matt said and she squealed softly with excitement as she grabbed the chains and lifted herself onto Matt’s lap, sliding her legs over his as she sat down, her legs handing over his on the side of the swing. Matt smiled because the last time they had fumbled a lot trying to work out how to do it but now they seemed to have mastered it. Well…they were going to find out.

‘’How did I get so lucky?’’ Matt asked her softly

Eden smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek and tilted his face up a fraction, ‘’I’m the lucky one,’’ Eden whispered and lightly brushed her lips against his.

Her hand slid down his neck, his chest, and then her fingers danced above the shorts elastic as Matt deepened the kiss. It was never pedestrian. His kisses always made her feel desired and wanted. She got drunk on their kisses. Matt moaned into the kiss and Eden felt his hands by hers. She knew he was getting impatient so she moved her hand and brought it to her pussy and moved her panties to the side while he pushed his shorts down as much as he could. The small piece of material was wet already and she felt Matt’s cock, now free of his shorts, as hard as a rock. That alone sent every nerve in her body tingling. His hands found the thin straps of the sleep shirt and he pushed them down, over her shoulders. Eden smiled into the kiss and pulled her arms out of the straps, letting the material fall softly around her middle. Matt broke the kiss, eager to get a nipple into his hungry mouth. She moaned, dropping her head back, and arched her back, pushing her titties forward so Matt could take in more. He was a genius with his tongue, no matter where he placed it on her body. Eden bit her bottom lip and slid her hand between them and closed her hand around Matt’s thick shaft. She smiled wickedly because his pre-cum had run down his shaft, leaving him slick. He sucked in a breath from the touch to his painfully erect dick but it felt so fucking good. Eden lifted herself, aimed his dick at her tight little entrance and then slid onto his dick agonizingly slowly, savoring every inch going in. Both Eden and Matt groaned lowly with simultaneous pleasure.

‘’Oh god Eden,’’ Matt moaned, ‘’you have no idea how good that feels.’’

‘’Oh, but I do,’’ Eden said with a grin and licked her hand of the pre-cum, making Matt swear under his breath. ‘’Start swinging. We don’t want to be caught,’’ she purred

‘’I’ve been wanting to fuck you all day’’ Matt said curling his hands around the chains,’’this won’t take long.’’

Eden smiled as she also gripped the chains, the cool metal making her more aroused, ‘’me too, babe.’’

Matt laughed and pushed them back with his legs and then let them fall forward as he tucked his legs back. He was sure going to have one hell of a workout keeping the swing in motion, but she knew without a doubt that he could handle it. They were soon gliding through the air, back and forth. Every time they went back, Eden would slide down his dick and when they got to the furthest point, having to go back down, she would push down on him as forces of nature and gravity worked. Eden moaned loudly with sheer pleasure every time that happened and Matt groaned feeling himself deep inside of her tight, wet pussy. When they went back down, Eden was lifted up, his dick sliding halfway out, exposing him to the cooler air, then he would slip back into her hot pussy. The contrast of heat and cool air in motion sent a pleasant shiver up his spine, never feeling anything like it. Matt loved everything – the way they had to be so close, the way they molded into each other, the fact that they had to rely upon and trust each other. The tightness around his hard throbbing cock, the way her hair flew behind her and fanned when they went up, and then around her when they went back down and he loved the look on her face with her breasts firm in front of him. He wanted to touch them, grab them but he couldn’t. Fuck! It was the most blissful torture ever. The deep penetration on the up was something different than normal penetration. It was a force that could only be achieved in their current position and situation.

Matt could tell she was close as her pussy started fluttering his cock, her body got tense and she dropped her head. ‘’Ooh, Matt…shit, Matt…’’ Eden said with urgency as she felt her muscles tightening, the rush coursing through her and pure ecstasy shoot over her body, and she let her one hand go from the chains, putting it around Matt’s shoulders. She pushed her face into the side of his neck as her walls clasped around Matt like a vice grip. The sheer strength around him set him on the very edge. Eden’s loud scream’s and moans were muffled as she buried her face into his neck and shoulder. She let go of the chains with her other hand to grip onto him tighter looking for more purchase, as Matt brought them to a stop. Her fingers dug into his muscles and her body shook against him. Once they were stationary Matt grabbed Eden’s ass and lifted her, then pushed her back down on his cock.

‘’FUCK YES, EDEN,’’ Matt moaned and he felt a wetness on his skin. The sound of Edens moans, the feel of her skin, her smell was so intoxicating to Matt as he slammed her down on him again and let out a growl as he felt his orgasm shoot out from the base of his balls and run through him. Eden lifted her face and they locked eyes for a second, before her eyes went big and she sucked in a breath.

‘’Kiss me,’’ Matt said through clenched teeth knowing she was coming yet again. Matt wanted to scream as loud as Eden because it was incredible but he knew he couldn’t as her walls locked around him again. He shot a massive load into Eden, rope after rope, after rope. After having to hold it in all day, wanting her all day….it built up. Eden pushed her lips to his, their tongues immediately meeting. The kiss muffled most of her screams and moans but a few escaped into the quiet night. Neither cared at the very moment. Matt’s dick twitched at the last spray into her pussy, and Eden still rammed herself down onto him two more times before she slumped onto him, breaking the kiss. Matt slid his arms around her and they sat like that for five minutes, panting, trying to catch their breath. In the distance they heard laughter, and Matt slowly slid his hands back down Eden’s back as she sat up straight again. He found the straps of her shirt and then pulled them up, Eden pushing her arms into them. He then let the straps rest on her shoulders and pulled out of her warm, wet, over-flowing pussy, letting out a groan not wanting to leave the warm confines of her tight pussy, but having to.

Matt looked over Eden’s shoulder and she turned her head as they heard low talking in the distance. A couple was walking on the sidewalk across the road but they knew the couple couldn’t see them, and that they had the vantage point. Clearly two lovers where out on a walk also trying to escape the heat. They were in the distance, but Eden could tell they were holding hands and very much into each other. They watched them disappear into a thick of trees and Eden turned back to Matt.

Matt smiled and gave her a half nod, ‘’they should try the swings,’’ he said and Eden burst out laughing. She pushed a hand between them and pulled her panties back into place and then grabbed the chains and weakly pulled herself up and climbed off of Matt. As her feet hit the ground, she tried to stand, but her legs buckled and Matt grabbed her to stop her falling.

‘’I’m fucking spent,’’ Eden said with laugh

‘’That was…something else. Fucking amazing’’ Matt said through his own laugh

‘’You’re a mess,’’ she said

‘’So are you,’’ Matt said with a laugh. They were both covered in sweat with a combination of their cum and juices sticking to them, their hair matted but looking so satisfied and elated.

She looked down and saw some of Matt’s cum running down her leg. She smiled and took her index finger and ran it up the zigzag line it had formed, collecting it. She then lifted her finger to her mouth and licked it off.

Matt smiled, ‘’your so fucking hot,’’ he said, noting she didn’t do that for him, she did it for herself. She wanted to taste him, to savour him.

Eden let her eyes fall back on Matt as she swallowed and smiled. ‘’I can clean you up,’’ she said

‘’Not this time. You can hardly stand, we’ll take a quick shower when we get home,’’ Matt said and somewhere along the line, Matt had put his dick away and fixed his shots because he pulled her down onto his lap.

‘’Do you feel better?’’ Eden asked Matt softly

‘’You have no idea. Thank you,baby. I love you so much’’ Matt said and gave her a kiss.

‘’Good,’’ Eden said and ran her fingertips along his stubbly jaw, ‘’I love you too’’.

‘’I’ll piggy back you home,’’ Matt said and smiled to himself because he had the best little vixen saint and she was the remedy he needed.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! YOU ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED <3