#the favorite one was so hard because it changes to often

[lyinginmeadow]

Breakaway | hockey!Azriel × reader

Summary: You're not a fan of a kiss cam. And neither is your boyfriend.

Word count: 1,8k

Warnings: swearing, miserable knowledge of hockey (sorry yall), Rhys being a protective asshole over his sister

A/n: Anyone a hockey fan? No, just me? Okay. Another thing is, that I described university as I know it in my country haha. I hope no one will be confused

Also yes, I did take inspiration from tiktok. I just loved that scene <3

Leaves started to fall which meant your favorite season was starting. You loved anything and everything that came with autumn. The pumpkin spice, moody weather, sweaters, and books. With autumn knocking on your door, the new semester has begun. You didn't mind studying, you actually enjoyed it to a certain degree, but the stress is what always got to you during exams. You were just starting your second year of university, so you knew what to expect. To many that was all. Just endless studying and partying to get their minds off things. You? Not really. Ever since you could remember, fall meant the hockey season started. Were you a hockey player? No, not at all. Ice skating was your passion, just not hockey. That didn't matter, because your brother was the golden child. Rhysand played because your father used to. You would never say it out loud, mainly because it would inflate his ego even more, but Rhysand was a star player. He was so much better than your father and you knew that if he wanted to, he would make it far. 

 Rhys never acted towards you with any malice other than just a bit of sibling rivalry. He was actually quite protective of you, given the fact you were his little sister. But whatever you did was never good enough for your father. You might study medicine, but Rhys was finishing law. You might figure skate but you were no hockey player. And most of all, you were a woman. And your father despised you for it. You were expected to make it to every game, but no one ever wanted to attend your competitions.  You enjoyed watching the games, especially when Rhys met his best friends and teammates at university. The games became so much more interesting when Azriel entered the ice. Rhys might be the captain and the center, but Azriel was a force to be reckoned with, the fastest player in the rink. You became friends with both Cassian and Azriel quickly since you often visited their house to get away from your parents. Rhysand of course was glad but you knew you were off-limits to his friends. Not only was it obvious in how he glared at both of them whenever they made a comment he didn’t appreciate. But the first time you met, Cass basically undressed you with his eyes. From what you heard he reminded them often to not mess with his sister.

It did not stop you from developing feelings for him the moment you laid eyes on him. For a while, it did seem he viewed you only as his best friend's little sister. Which you had a hard time accepting. Your relationship changed when you sneaked into a party they had thrown in celebration of a victory last year. You were a first-year, and your first semester at university had been hectic, but living close to your brother and away from your parents was a long-awaited blessing. Having a taste of freedom made you bold. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of you, you had been like a magnet. He hadn't been the only one as you attracted the attention of another freshman. Azriel might not have acted on his attraction towards you before but seeing you with another man changed that. One thing led to another and you were sneaking out together whenever you found time.

It had been a year and your brother still had no clue. And you intended to keep it that way. You loved your boyfriend, you didn't want to worry about his teeth off the ice as well. Cassian on the other hand suspected, thankfully as you introduced him to your friend, Nesta, he became preoccupied and dropped the matter. 

''So who do you think will win? And be honest, they're not here, you can't hurt their fragile egos.'' Nesta disturbed your train of thought. You laughed shaking your head. You loved hanging out with her because of how direct she was, always saying exactly what was on her mind. You met Nesta when your university did a charity ballet on the ice of Nutcracker. You got the role of Clara and she was your ballet counterpart. You did not expect to establish a friendship with her, but she was exactly who you needed in your life. You knew she would call you out on your bullshit anytime and you liked her for it. She also happened to be the first person you told about Azriel. She was not surprised, saying that you weren't being as secretive as you thought you had been.

''You know I am still biased since I really want our team to win. The Cavaliers are good and they play dirty. But Cass will probably try to kill Eris on the ice. Given the history and all.'' You gave her a pointed look. Shifting your gaze to the rink, you tried to find number 38.

''They’ve got no chance against VU.'' Said a guy next to you. You hated when someone butted their way into a conversation. But given the fact, that you would be spending about two hours in close proximity, you had decided for a polite smile. ''I guess so.''

''So how come you've got such good seats? Know someone on the team?'' He chimed in again.

''You could say that. My brother is the captain.'' You answered keeping your eyes on Azriel as he warmed up.

''Rhysand is your brother?''

''Unfortunately.'' You nodded, and his eyes grew in size. ''That's so lucky! I wish I was a hockey player or just knew them. You see, I got these seats because I'll be writing an article about the game.'' You smiled politely again shifting your gaze to the rink when the puck was just about to hit the ice.

As the game progressed, the crowd became electric. All the fans were shouting and your ears began ringing. Velaris Bats were in the lead, but only by one goal and everyone was nervous. To make the game even more enjoyable, there were games for the fans as well. Students competed against one another to win points for their university and win the competition of the tribunes.

The competitions were fun and good entertainment during breaks. But while the game continued the camera was turned on. You laughed at a random do a meme moment, but quickly turned your head back to the ice. You didn't want to miss a second of Azriel's game. Fully focused, you didn't realize that the camera switched to a kiss cam. A guy sitting next to you turned his head to face you and pointed to the TV earning your attention. ''I mean when in Rome, right?'' He laughed as he tried to close the distance. ''Yeah, no, thank you.'' You laughed nervously shifting in your seat.

''Oh come on, it's just a kiss.'' He pressured, and you gave a panicked look towards the ice. You heard Nesta taking a sharp inhale to give the guy a piece of her mind. You were interrupted by shouts of the fans and loud banging on the glass. 

''Back the fuck off.'' You couldn't hear Az properly, but the message was quite clear, making the guy shift his gaze between the two of you uncomfortably. Az got two minutes for stalling the game which made the crowd boo and your brother yell obscenities as he often did when one of his teammates was sent to a bench. Thankfully during the power play the Cavaliers didn't get a goal in, but it was close. It only enraged Rhysand more which was abundantly clear when he almost broke his stick as the second period came to an end.

Azriel was sending daggers to the guy sitting next to you who looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave. He relaxed when the players left for their locker rooms. You just hoped Rhys didn't look much into Azriel's possessive behavior.

''What the fuck was that?'' Roared Rhys as he entered the locker room.

''I don't know what you're talking about.'' Azriel continued to take off his gear.

''Do not play with me! You could have cost us the game.''

''I was thinking I did you a favor. He had no right to touch her like that.'' He finally faced Rhysand.

''It was a fucking kiss cam.''

''She didn't want to be kissed. And he didn't back off.''

''So what? You made it your mission to help her while you were supposed to pay attention to the puck?'' Spit Rhys. Everyone in the locker room was silent watching the two stubborn players go head to head.

''Yes! And I would do it again.'' Azriel retorted.

''I could have you off the team for this.'' He hissed.

''Rhys-.'' Cassian signed. ''Be my guest.'' Azriel interrupted starring Rhysand down. He wouldn't back down. He couldn't. He knew you could have handled yourself back there. Hell, Nesta was there, too and she wouldn't let some guy do anything disrespectful. He just acted on an impulse. When he looked up and saw your panicked gaze, something shifted inside him. Rhys kept watching Azriel, staring right into his soul when suddenly his eyes grew larger as if recognizing what he should have seen from the very beginning.

''You've got to be kidding me.'' When Azriel didn't answer, Rhys continued, ''Tell me you don’t have a thing for my little sister.’’

''Azriel, I swear to everything that is holly, I will fucking punch you if you don't give me an answer.''

''We are together. Have been for almost a year.'' Azriel never saw anyone have an aneurysm. But if he could guess, Rhysand was a textbook example of how it looked like.

''I take it back, I will punch you anyway.'' And he might have if Cassian wasn't there to catch Rhys. ''Easy there killer. The game is still on. And you might not like it but Az is an asset.''

''I don't want to see you anywhere near her, understand? I know how you are with girls!'' Rhysand snarled.

''You know I can't do that.''

''Then you're off the team.''

''Fine.''

As they returned to the ice, the tension between Velaris Bats was palpable. Cassian was looking between his teammates probably trying to find a quick solution to the problem at hand. Azriel wasn't paying you any attention keeping his gaze on the ice only. You frowned slightly. When you looked at Rhys you found him staring back at you anger oozing out of his every move. 

He knew.

[giddyfatherchris]

massage | bang chan, han, felix, seungmin

summary. you're sore and stressed but luckily your boy is there to help. collab with @httpdwaekki <3

type. requested <3

warnings. fem!reader, use of terms like "missy", "pretty girl", mentions of wearing a bra

words. 1000 / blurb

a/n. here she is!!! these were so hard to make lmao but once inspiration struck it went like a charm :3 im so excited about this little project because it’s a collab with one of my favorite human in the worldddddddd @httpdwaekki <3 thank you sm for doing these with me :3 for minho, changbin, hyunjin and jeongin’s part go on her profile!

part 2

bang chan

As a choreographer, you have to work physically for hours on end. Your day-to-day life consists of a never-ending workout. With the years, you've become accustomed to it. Your body is now a well-oiled machine. But even you could push yourself a little too hard occasionally.

Working in the same building as your boyfriend often had its advantages, like shared meals and quick kisses between breaks. But it also had the disadvantage of exposing yourself to his watchful eyes whenever you pushed yourself too much. Between meetings, Chan often came for a surprise visit.

Just now you could see from the corner of your eyes, his lean and muscular shape enter the room. His gaze warm and joyful at first, then suspicious when he noticed you were hobbling around the studio. You had been working really hard to choreograph a new solo and in your creative trance, might have forgotten to pace yourself a little. You did allow yourself a quick break to hug him, hearing him whisper in your ear a quick "Be careful," in between kisses.

When you finally couldn’t take it anymore and decided to head home, you hesitated in front of the studio door. It was your habit to give Chan a quick goodbye kiss before going home but you didn’t think you could do that without him noticing how much your legs trembled. Not up for a lecture on top of your exhaustion, you swiftly left the building, deciding on a quick text instead.

When you got home, you jumped in the shower, the warm water almost making you moan as it soothed your abused muscles. You changed into comfortable clothes before you got started on a quick dinner.

When Chan finally came home it was late, you were sprawled on the couch looking extenuated. He couldn't stop a slow smile from spreading on his lips as he stared at you. Your hair was still slightly wet, you were wearing his favorite pajamas and clutching a plushie on your chest. You usually liked to play on your phone while you watched a show, but you must have been really spent out because your phone was nowhere to be seen and your empty gaze was fixed on the TV.

"Hi sweetheart," he said in a soothing voice as he crouched to kiss the top of your head. You grumbled in return, gaze still hypnotized by the documentary series you'd been watching. You heard him forage in the fridge in search of something to eat. "I made chicken, rice, and a salad. There's some left over for you on the stove," You heard his little 'Ooooh' of happiness and couldn't keep a smile in. He quickly grabbed a plate and came back to eat next to you. Of course, not before giving you a quick peck and saying thank you for the meal. Once done, he laid down on the couch, focused on answering some messages on his phone. After a while, you beard him sigh and close his phone, "Ready to go to bed?"

You nodded yes but when he got up, made no move to follow. He looked at you with his eyebrows lifted. "You're not coming?"

You sighed, took a long look at your legs, then back at him, and answered shamefully. "I will be honest with you. I don't think I can." He looked at you with that tight lip, furrowed brows expression he always had when he was confused about something. He looked at your legs, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with them until he realized you hadn't moved since he came home. "So you did you push yourself too hard you little liar." You knew from his tone that he was unhappy with you and felt a bit dumb for thinking you could have ever hid this from him. You grumbled a 'might have', he didn’t miss. He exhaled with a disbelieving smile before sitting down next to you. "Can I do anything to help?" You played nervously with your fingers, uncomfortable to request what you really needed. He searched for your gaze, but you wouldn't look at him, keeping a precise focus on your twisted fingers. "couldyoumassagemylegs."

"What?", he laughed.

"couldyoumassagemylegs."

His eyes light up when he finally made sense of your mumbled request. "Massage your legs? Of course, why do you look so shy, angel?" He had that cute taunting smile on his lips. There was no way in hell he wouldn't help you, but still, he loved to taunt you especially when you got shy like this.

"I always feel kinda awkward asking for massages."

"You shouldn't, you work hard. You deserve all the massages you want." He moved down to sit closer to your extended legs, and calmly laid his warm hands on them before he started moving in circular motions. You couldn't help a few whimpers at first, it hurt like a bitch. He apologized profusely, encouraging you to weather it, knowing it would get better soon. "I know baby. I'm sorry."

Slowly, as the blood started circulating in your muscles, a relaxing feeling spread in your body. You were limp like a noodle, completely abandoned to Chan's strong hands massaging the pain away. He lifted his head after a few minutes of diligent massaging and giggled as he looked at you, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened, about to doze off. He stopped, earning a groan of protest from you, "You're about to fall asleep, I promise I'll continue, but in our bed."

You opened lazy eyes, deciding idea wasn't half as bad. He approached you, arms opened to carry you upstairs. "Come here, girl." He groaned a little when he picked you up, mostly out of habit than because of real strenuous effort. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, nuzzling in his warm skin. He giggled at the touch but kissed the side of your head with a smile as he carried you, bridal style to your room, wantqing you to be able to fall asleep comfortably in bed as he massaged the ache away.

han

"Jesus reese peanut butter cup, that hurt," you mumbled as you clutched your hand to your chest. "Y/n, you okay?" you heard Minho call out from upstairs. "Yeah, I'm fine," you quickly answered, not wanting him to come downstairs and find out you had, in fact, dropped a heavy piece of furniture and strained your hand and shoulder as you tried catching it. Han's head poked around the corner of the stairs, his fluffy hair falling around his cheeks. "You sure you okay, babe? We heard a loud noise." You nodded with a tight smile, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily. The thing is, maybe you should have told someone because as time went on the pain only kept getting worse. But you were almost done moving Minho into his new apartment, so you decided to take on yourself and not say anything.

You did your best to hide your discomfort, but apparently, you weren't doing an excellent job of it. You could feel your boyfriend's worried glance every now and then. Each time you tried smiling or acted as if you didn't notice it, even when he confronted you.

After a quick dinner, Han suggested you join him in the shower, an adorable grin on his lips. You nodded with a smile and waited for him to leave the room before you tried lifting off your shirt. You managed to do it with lots of whimpering and cries of pain. Thankfully, with the shower running, he didn't hear, but once you got in, it got harder to hide the state you were in.

"You ready to tell me what was going on now? You acted really weird today."

You gave him a feeble smile, "I was just really tired. It was a big day." He nodded, not looking very convinced, and tried to put his hand on your shoulder to comfort you. Even the slight weight of his hand made pain course through your nerves and you backed in the corner like a wounded animal. His brown eyes rounded with worry. "What's going on?"

"I dropped something earlier and when I tried catching it, I strained my arm. It's been hurting more ever since."

The emotions on his face immediately swapped for a seriousness you had rarely seen before. He took a moment to look at the way you let your arm rest limp on the side of your body before he ushered you to come closer.

"Come here baby, I promise I'll be careful."

You stepped towards him and watched as he took a rag and some soap and started gently washing your body, making sure to be extra careful around your hand and shoulder. Once done with the washing, he asked you to wait as he exited the shower. He came back with a towel wrapped around his hips and another open in his arms, ready to welcome you. If you weren't hurting so much, you would have swooned at the sight in front of your eyes but the relentless zap of pain coursing through your upper left side wouldn't allow it.

He dried you delicately and helped you put on one of his oversized t-shirts. The fabric hung on your skin and his comforting smell filled your nose. "I'm okay Ji, I just need to rest. You don't have to do all this."

He was swiftly getting dressed but stopped to look at you with furrowed brows. "This is not okay, you're hurt." He approached to grab your face in his hands, his brown eyes set on yours, his wet hair hanging on his forehead in soft curls. "I will take care of you. Go sit on the bed, I'll be right there, okay?"

He kissed the tip of your nose and gently nudged you towards your bedroom. You heard him rummaging in your small kitchen before he came back with a small towel and ice pack in his hands.

"Ice is good for sore muscles. It slows your blood flow, so it helps with inflammation and pain." He quickly explained as he sat next to you.

You winced when he wrapped your shoulder with the towel and ice despite his delicate manoeuvers. But he was right because just a few minutes in, you laid back in bed relishing in the break you were finally getting from the constant ache.

"Does that feel better, love?" You nodded with your eyes closed. You heard your boyfriend giggle and felt his hand softly grab your hurt one and start carefully massaging it. He pulled on each of your fingers softly and asked you to do a few movements, monitoring closely your reactions.

Once done, he sighed with relief. "Well, I'm glad to announce nothing is broken. It's a really bad sprain, but you should get better soon."

You opened your eyes to meet his focused gaze. "How do you know so much about this?"

His hands kept moving in circular motions as he answered with a small smile. "I was a trainee for years, practicing for hours. I've also been an idol for seven years now. Believe me, sprains are a daily occurrence in our field. We've all learned to treat and assess them pretty quickly."

You stayed silent for a beat, "As much as I think it sucks that you have to deal with these injuries because of the intense pace of work you've been thrown into since a young age, I must say I'm pretty glad you have this knowledge tonight." You smiled and softly stroked the side of his face with your good hand. "I also admit, I like seeing you like this. The whole 'nurse jisung' knowing all about my injury, able to assess and care for it, is pretty hot."

At the subtle meaning behind your words and tone, he lifted his head swiftly, a spark of interest illuminating his dark eyes. "Do you, now?"

You bit your lower lip as you slowly nodded, your eyes fixed on his plush lips. You tried leaning forward to kiss him but even the small movement made you whimper in pain. Immediately Jisung pulled back, "Okay, okay, relax Casanova. Keep your flirting for when you're able to move without sounding like an old grandma, okay?"

He laughed at the pout on your lips before leaning down to give you a quick peck. "Better than nothing, right?"

felix

Working as a marketing manager could be definitely more stressful than you imagined. Still, you wouldn't exchange your career for anything else. You loved the creativity your work allowed you to unleash. Even when it meant spending entire days sitting in front of a computer or crouched on a model for a presentation, like today. You tried massaging your sore neck as best you could on the bus ride home. Your day had been packed and your shoulders, neck, and back were killing you. You were about to select a podcast to listen to when you noticed a text you had received a few minutes ago.

You closed your phone with a giddy smile. It wasn't often that your boyfriend got home before you. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the thought of having some one-on-one time with your busy partner.

When you got home, you didn't even call out his name. You knew where he would be. You dropped your bag and coat in the entryway and headed quietly for his gaming room. As predicted, you found him sitting in his chair, an empty bottle of water next to him. He looked breathtaking and adorable at the same time. He didn't hear you coming in with his headphones. His dark eyes focused on the screen, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip from time to time. You knew better than to disturb him before his game ended so you waited for the screen to go back to the main menu before you pounced. Felix let out a high-pitched scream and grabbed his chest as if trying to keep his heart inside. Once he realized who held him, he wrapped his arms as well as he could from his position around you. "Hey, ladybug."

"Hey sunshine," you answered with a kiss on his cheek. "What do you think of dino chicken nuggets for dinner tonight?" you asked with a little smile, your lips still pressed against his skin.

"Is that even a question?" he answered with a mischievous grin.

You ended up eating on the couch with a bottle of ketchup nearby. After your high-quality meal, you decided to settle down with a fun show you had started together some time ago. Quickly, Felix laid his head on your lap, asking you with the cutest puppy eyes if you could play with his hair. Without hesitation you started drifting your hands in the silky smooth strands of his hair, using from time to time your nails to delicately scratch his scalp, eliciting deep sounds of satisfaction from him.

A while in, you started moving around, trying to find a position where your back wasn't uncomfortable and your neck didn't feel strained. You tried not to bother him, but Felix was quick to notice your wiggling.

"Are you alright baby? Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"No, it's just my neck and back are killing me." You finally admitted. He lifted himself up on his elbows to look at you with questioning eyes. "I've been working on this model for the past few days and I think all the crouching and bad posture is finally catching up to me."

He pouted before sitting up to drop a pillow on the ground between his legs. He backed up on the couch, making more room for you to sit. "Come on, sit down. I'll give you a massage."

You stared at him, flushed and unsure. "But, you asked me to play in your hair. I didn't say this to stop I was just-"

He cut you off with a stern look, "C'mon angel."

Begrudgingly, you slid down the couch to sit in between his legs. By the time his hands started professionally massaging your sore muscles, you were basically purring like a kitten. "Do you like that?" He giggled, loving to see you so happy and relaxed. You sighed with pleasure. Your brain felt so deliciously relaxed, that it was hard to even find words. "I admit you're really good at this, but you could do anything and I'd love it."

"Really? But you never ask for them!" You're always giving him massages whether it's after a particularly intense practice or to help him relax. On the other hand, Felix can barely count the number of times you asked him.

"You work so hard, it feels wrong to ask you to give me a massage after you've already spent the day using your body so much. I don't want to be an added task to your day."

He crouched to position his chin in the crook of your neck, his hands gently wrapping around your middle. "Are you telling me it feels like a task when I ask you to massage me?" he taunted, but you could hear the slight smile in his deep voice. "Well…" you started off, implying it was, but started to squeal when his fingers tickled your skin. "Okay! OKAY! I'M JOKING! FELIX!!"

With a laugh, he stopped and kissed your cheek lovingly. "It's the same for me. Helping you feel good when you've been working hard or just because you need to cool down is in my job description as your boyfriend, okay? Plus, you know I love giving massages. So no more feeling shy or guilty, understood?" His lips on your ear sent tingles down your body as you nodded. "Or else, I might have to tickle you again…" You opened your eyes wide at the threat in his words. "I promise, I promise! You can massage me as much as you want!"

seungmin

Today, like every other lately, was an unbearable pain in the ass. Work was stressful, and Seungmin had been stressed with his and the boys’ upcoming comeback. Making it so that your day-to-day constantly looked like one big anxious mess. You felt so pressured and under tension that unknowingly, your body had started to reflect your state of mind. Your shoulders were constantly tensed, scrunched up by your ears and you had to constantly remind yourself to take a deep breath, loosen your shoulders, and the tightening of your jaw.

You headed to Seungmin's apartment after work feeling tired as ever. You’re only consolation being that it was finally friday and you’d get the whole weekend to chill out and rest. When you entered and called out his name and were only met with silence, it confirmed what you thought, he wasn't home.

You stared for a second more at his texts, he seemed so tired it made your heart ache. Dropped at your feet, you looked at your bag and coat, then at your sweatpants hanging by the laundry basket. Your whole body screamed at you to take off your bra, change in comfy clothes and play cozy video games in the couch. But you couldn’t stop thinking about your hardworking boyfriend. Seungmin would never ask for it, but you knew he needed help. He was stressed, and barely had time to do things outside the company building. Dishes accumulated in the sink, dust covered almost every inch of the furniture, and mountains of clothes were displayed near the washing machine. Plus, you knew it had been at least a week since he had the time to eat a decent meal. So despite the fatigue and your own needs, you rolled up your sleeves, tied your hair up, chose your best playlist, and got to work.

When he finally came home, you were even more tired, but you felt satisfied knowing you might have helped remove some of his burden. He came home looking happy and relaxed for the first time in a week. You were relieved to notice that the tensed position of his shoulders seemed long gone. He hung his coat and looked at the pristine state of his apartment with a surprised expression. "What happened here?" he looked around, finding everything neatly organized, cleaned and put away. There were even two plates set out on the table and a delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. "Why did you do all of this?" he questioned while walking over to you sprawled on the couch like a slug.

"I wanted to help. I know you've been really stressed with your comeback and didn't have the time to do this stuff, so I took care of it."

He kept staring at you with his piercing gaze. "You look tired," he stated while analyzing your posture.

"Work was intense today, but I'm fine." With a muffled grunt, you got up and reached your hand out for him. "I'm okay Min I promise. Come on, let's eat!"

At no later than 8:30pm you were tucked in bed while he changed. He noticed the neatly folded pieces of clothing in his wardrobe and poked his head out, a few rebel strands hanging over his eyes. "You even did the laundry and folded this chaos?"

You hummed in answer, not lifting your eyes from your phone. You couldn't see it, but you felt his gaze on you, studying. You refused to cross his eyes, not wanting him to know how much it had cost you to do all this. You still didn't regret it, but you didn't think you could get up for the rest of the night. The mattress dipped where he sat next to you, draping his arm over your covered legs. "Why?"

"Why what?" He picked up your phone from your hands to reclaim your full attention. His eyes shone with a determined light; he wouldn't give this up. With a sigh, you took your glasses off and wiped your face with your hands. "I wanted to help you, I know how stressed you've been with everything and I wanted you to be happy."

"So you keep saying. I really appreciate it but you didn't have to do that. I feel much better. I think we're finally ready for our comeback. I promise I'll be back to my neat freak behavior." You chuckled lazily, glad to hear he was finally feeling a bit more confident. "I'm sorry I didn't notice how much this whole thing affected you. I'm ashamed to realize I haven't been really present for you lately. How are you? How has work been?"

You grabbed his hand, feeling thankful for his sweet consideration, and admitted how exhausted you really were. "I just want to feel relaxed for once. It feels like I haven't been able to in weeks."

Your puppy-eyed boyfriend looked at you with a pensive gaze before suddenly asking you to turn on your belly. You did so with little question, and soon felt his expert hands massaging your abused back.

"Seungmin! What are you doing?" You squealed and tried to wiggle out from his grip. He softly, but firmly pushed down on your shoulders blades to keep you from moving. "Stop," he grumbled.

"You don't have to do that. You had a big week. I’m sure there’s a thousand things you’d rather do than give me a massage."

"That’s where you’re wrong. Taking care of my partner is important and a priority to me." He shushed you, "Why is it so hard to convince you to let me take care of you?"

You stayed silent for a few seconds before explaining how you always felt you needed to care for others. "It's not like I don't like it, but I don't really know how to let people take care of me."

You waited for an answer in silence, worried he might give you a lecture (he was good at that) but were surprised when you felt him bend down with his mouth by your ear. You felt a soft kiss on your temple before he whispered, "Then I'll teach you."

[greeniegaes]

Thinking about Omega SQQ again sigh

Okay. So warning this is a male lactation AU so if you don’t like that don’t read, nothing explicit happens tho, just a guy and his pups

I imagine when he first goes into his body everything feels like he’s in haywire, constantly on edge and ready for a fight. Once he’s gotten the hang of things he uses his cultivation to try and simmer down his hormones.

Only to realize it was his cultivation preventing hormones that was making him feel like shit all the time.

So eventually he sighs and stops doing that. The first few days are bad, cramps and sickness and a general feeling of wanting to claw everyone’s eyes out. He gets through that though.

Then his breasts start to come in.

He knew PIDW has its weirder parts of omegaverse so he knew that this would happen. At first he starts binding his chest but that hurts SO SO SO much that he collapses on like the third day (he was also doing it improperly because it’s him, yk) and gets stuffed into Qian Cao

MQF: I was not aware shixiong was an omega

SQQ: I’ve only recently decided to stop holding myself back

MQF: it is recommended that you form a small pack of your disciples to help with your instincts and… that *waving at SQQs chest.*

SQQ: *screams internally.* Okay :)

At this point after like a week of just draining himself and going insane he finally gives up. LBH has already started living in the bamboo hut so he’s kinda the best option so he sits the boy down.

SQQ: Binghe, I hope you know this isn’t going to change anything but

LBH, thinking: oh my god no please don’t kick me out

SQQ: since this master has allowed his omega side back out he’s been struggling with his urges about thinking of his disciples like pups. If it’s not an offense to your character can I take some of it out on you

LBH, internally: YES YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES I NEED IT

LBH, externally: If that would please shizun then sure :]

So they start a twice daily thing of in the morning and night LBH goes into SQQs room and his nest and gets feed. Apparently milk is hella good for the skin and shit because after a few weeks he starts to look flawless somehow.

And SQQ really wants to see his other kids- DISCIPLES flourish like that. He extends the offer to a close few and some look like they going to cry at the honor of their teacher wanting to take care of them.

LBH is still the main drinker and always wants to huff when he has to share, but he does it none the less. His Shizun gets really cute during feeding sessions, purring and chirping at them, fixing their hair and playing with it, scratching their scalp, the whole nine yards.

So LBH repays it by feeding SQQ more, which also makes him have more milk in turn. He huffs and complains at his body’s need to produce so much, his chest wayyy too heavy in the middle of the day to be comfortable, leaking and wasting everything.

He ignored that though, even if LBH and his other pups- disciples offer to help him.

Eventually after the Abyss his body is still making big amounts of milk because that’s what it was used to. Most of the time he just gets it out himself and pours it into the grass, often now also starting his other feedings.

Everything starts to get to him and he’s decided that staying on the mountain is no good. So he sneaks out, by himself, in search of something to heal his heart.

All the peak lords and disciples are going crazy, nobody can find him and nobody knows where he could’ve gone. Eventually while LQG is talking to a random villager out in a border town of their territory he sees SQQ again, arms filled with two pudgy babies and looking ever so pleased.

SQQ: Oh! Hi Shidi

SQQ internally: OH FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT THE SECT

LQG: where have you been???

SQQ: sorry sorry babies are hard work I didn’t want to travel alone with them

LQG, wanting to have an aneurysm but can’t: let me just help you home

On one hand the entire sect is so relieved that SQQ didn’t die of heartbreak over losing his favorite pup or get kidnapped. On the other hand SQQ??? Where’d you’d acquire those babies?? They aren’t yours, it’s only been 6 months!!

Anyways after SQQ is safely back in the sect he doesn’t see a point in leaving. I mean! Look! Look at his pups! So cute and round! One of them has little dimples!

The other peak lords carefully go to see what was going on, YQY opening the door to the bamboo house after being told to come in and all of them are just smacked with happy omega pheromones, SQQ gently cradling them both in his arms as he rocks in a chair.

At that point all of the peak lords decide that yk, maybe it doesn’t matter how the children were acquired. They were well feed and cared for and obviously SQQ was happy again.

(He got the children from a working in the WRP, she had wanted babies and all her sisters were supportive but then she realized she didn’t like being a parent but you also can’t morally just… dispose of a child. SQQ visited there once in his depression stoop and stayed for a few days after falling in love with the kiddos. Then he just went on an adventure with his babies and got distracted by the cool world building.)

[worstdisastermaster]

The books and the shows aren't the same thing and?? That's okay?? It doesn't have to be??

Some of the artists haven't even seen the show yet, and maybe won't 🤷‍♀️ I know I've seen like. The 1st episode and that's it lol. And I really enjoyed it and I think it's really fun

But people tend to separate book fandoms from in screen fandoms, to an extent, at least, bc there ARE differences, and THATS OKAY

They are very connected but they are not the same and I don't understand why people find that so hard to accept?? Like. Genuinely I'm so confused lol

Like if someone was being disrespectful, or trying to whitewash Leah or something horrid then like. Defend her!!! (Do try to be polite tho bc people can and often do change, and they know what they have been taught until they learn more- like for example, a few years ago I had no idea ab anything lgtbq and I peob would have gotten myself canceled bc I had. No idea. Ab any of it. And despite having best intentions in heart i totally would have offended someone, and that would have crushed me, because *i didnt know*. I never would have hurt anyone on purpose, i just didnt realize what COULD hurt others on that specific topic, much less why. But now I identify with it and am learning new things ab jt every day and etc. And that's a super touchy topic for a lot of people and for good reason too! Just try to be kind first, then if they are jerks u can be a jerk back lol. Just give peopke a chnace to get better- and then PLEASE dont hold the past against them ubless they very clearly havent changed mk please please please let people grow and change and get better dont crush them before they can) anti Leah trash is. That. Trash

But why would you attack book Annabeth, just for existing? She was my childhood, and I identified a lot with her as I grew up. And guess what! I also identified with Hazel, and I do so even more now! No matter what race she will be casted as, I'm still going to imagine BOOK Hazel the way I always did. Doesn't mean I won't adore her actress, or appreciate art of the girl playing her role! But would you call me racist for drawing her as African American if her actress, was, say, Asian American? Or drawing Leo as Latino instead of Somoan? Because to me, u less I am being a jerk about it, all I'm doing is drawing the book instead of the show. Idk I'm too sleep deprived to put my thoughts into coherent words lol

I love the posts, where it's like, book Annabeth and show Annabeth holding hands. Those posts are my favorite, both because they are freaking adorable, but also. Because it's equal

They are different aspects of the same person

And

Thats

Okay

You know???

I quite literally grew up reading pjo. I read it at least once every year since I learned HOW to read, *partially on pjo*, until late middle school. I was raised on book Annabeth.

Show Annabeth is new and exciting and adorable and I'm so happy for it and I am very excited for all the people being introduced to it!!!!!!!! However, when I'm writing book pjo, I'm not swaping it out for show scenes, bc they are, in fact, different. Which, again, NOT A BAD THING. And you know what? When people from the show fandom write their scenes, they aren't going to be thinking ab the book scenes, and THATS OKAY TOO!!! And I could care less how my readers saw my characters when the read the story. I write them the way I imagine them, but it's their job as the reader to say 'no, actually :P' and swap out the appearance for one they liked better.

I did that plenty often as a kid, and i donf regeret it.

Which, ironically enough, was why my book Percy was blond until ab 6th grads XD I mixed up Luke and Percy's hair description ONCE and just. Never questioned it, though all the rereads, or looking at the covers of the books 💀 you can imagine my shock when I joined the fandom and found out Percy had black hair, instead of sandy hair like, you know, S A N D, like poseidon!!! And now show Percy is blond XD

That just proves people can imagine things how they want and jts okay- especially bc maybe, in an au, they're rifht!!! (Au being show Percy to me)

Anyways I lost my train of thought and it's almost 12 here lolll I hope I didn't say anything ill be embarrassed by come tomorrow~

Good night world :3

Hi guys, wanted to discuss something going on for a while now. What the hell is wrong with pjotwt? Like...whats wrong with this people? Do you see what they say? What they are even trying to do?

First of all, let me start by speaking about the cast. They are all wonderful children, Leah especially! She is doing an amazing job as Annabeth. But book Annabeth still exists yk? She is and she is literally white. It is not racist. But denying about a character being white in the books, even spreading hate like this...is racist. There are people out there related with Annabeth for years. People love her, every version, maybe book more maybe even the movie. How can you disrespect her like this? And most importantly, how can they attack an artist like this, with an art being so beautiful. What they are trying to do is not protecting Leah, it is spreading hate. It is awful. Making this fandom toxic, so so much.

Them trying to erase book Annabeth because she is white, trying to cover her by painting on her, shaming artists, calling people that loves her racist...What do we do about this in pjo fandom? This fandom used to be so beautiful, but now. This people are not part of the fandom in my eyes, because real fans, would respect every version of the characters, love them with their anything, even flaws. They would protect this characters because they love them, so much. And not to mention this characters are the ones Rick wrote 20 years ago, they were with us for so long.

What do tumblr think about this I wonder? Since pjo fandom is pretty active here :3

[thetwstwildcard]

"A lioness does not need to roar to keep the crowd in awe."

Full Name: Kiara Furaha Sarabi

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 19

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthday: October 26th

Star Sign: Scorpio

Height: 178 cm (roughly 5'10)

Eye Color: Crimson

Hair Color: Dyed blonde (naturally brown)

Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous

Voice Claims: Megumi Toyoguchi (Japanese) Allegra Clark (English)

Inspiration: Zira

Homeland: Sunset Savanna

Dorm: Savanaclaw

Year: 3rd

Club: Magishift

Best Subject: P.E

Worst Subject: Magical Pharmaceuticals

Favorite Food: Meat

Likes: Training, the Kingscholar family, her homeland, magishift, sparring, warm areas, keeping people in line, taking care of Cheka and keeping an eye on her dorm mates

Dislikes: The Furaha family (mainly her mother), being treated differently because "she's a girl", Leona's laziness, remembering her childhood, her burn scars, being unable to control her UM and having to be stuck between her loyalties

Personality: Blunt and hot headed, though loyal to a fault, Kiara was taken into the Kingscholar family after being disowned by her own family. She is most loyal to Leona, though she is still respectful to Farena (originally her family tried to force her on him despite the large age gap). She was taken in my Leona's mother at age 8 and given her maiden name. She may seem harsh and rough around the edges but she does care about those around her. From this she is often in charge of watching Cheka (who is fond of her and calls her "Unti") around him it is one of the few moments her harsh exterior softens.

Unique Magic: Lioness's Rage: Covers her hands and feel with claws of flame, prolonged use will burn her. The angrier she is, the hotter her flames are (blue and white are possible), though that also means her UM is more out of control and will do more damage to her body.

Trivia:

She was disowned at age 8 after a fight with Akili which "unlocked" Kiara's UM. This combined with her anger resulted in Kiara burning half of her sister. Upon seeing what happened their mother clawed Kiara's face and disowned her.

After her disownment, Kiara went to the Kingscholars (having been training to be a royal guard since childhood) where she was taken under the wing of Leona's mother and given a new surname.

Upon Farena's appointment as king, and while with Leona, Kiara burned her hair short, fully cutting ties with her family as she swore her loyalty to Leona as both were "betrayed" by their siblings.

Calls Leona "my king", though when it is just them she will call him "Lea-lea". When they fight however, she calls him by his name.

While childhood friends, Kiara and Leona often fight as Kiara sees his actions as "giving up" and she "expected more" from him.

Leona originally was annoyed with her, though her disownment made them grew closer as he finally had another who understood his feelings (Akili was always the golden child)

Kiara covers the scars on her arms and legs, ashamed that she "couldn't even control" her own UM

She is only in the beginning of the Savanaclaw chapter as after a fight with Leona (another push to OB-ing), she left to return to the Sunset Savanna to cool her head

Akili did not blame her sister for what happened, but she was poisoned against her by their parents and now avoids her, thinking of her as a "beast".

Kiara calls people by the young terms of animals (ex: pup, kit, cub, calf, etc)

Trains so hard with Sarafina as a way to find purpose and "prove her family wrong"

Catrina has used her UM on her before but swore to never again after seeing Kiara have a genuine breakdown at her childhood memories

While she "hates" her mother, she still misses her. She even begged as she was kicked out of the house to "please don't stop being my mother!!", though this did not change her mother's mind. Her father did not stand up against his wife's decision.

[almayver]

Did you listen to the space dome joined on twitter last night? https://x.com/Maileen_T/status/1855620833315889656

Anon. May your pillow be always cool and your favorite snack always near. Thank you for telling me, what! I'm actually not really on twitter, I mostly stalk the man's account, so there was a real chance I would have never found this.

This man. Lurks like no one in the world. He found this random space and was like yeah sure. Let me join. And he talked in English the whole time!!! He is so sweet and the people doing the space too, the entire first bit is basically him interviewing them. He was also drunk btw (He entered around 52:30 if anyone wants to listen)

Some highlights here because I want to save them for myself :

Under the cut because I went overboard as I often do but in my defense it was 2 hours and a half of yapping

Apparently, Thai people talk better English when they are drunk. Who knew.

They had a whole convo about the woes of translating and how bad Google Translate is, specially with Thai

He loves the show so much and is so thankful that people like it 🥺

He hopes to work with the guys again

Tay used to have a big difficulty with crying and during the PP workshops they worked through that because Peach was going to be crying a lot (And geez, did that fucking pay off, holy shit)

Someone finally asked why as a comedy it makes all of us cry so much and his answer was “Well you laugh until you cry 🥁”

Someone said that they were expecting a happy ending, and he said that the show being about ghosts, it is about goodbyes and learning how to live in the present and moving on

“Anything can happen in Peaceful Property, and some people might say it's a bad ending but to me, it's just life guys” (he fully did an evil laugh I swear)

“It's goodbye, technically a bad ending? Maybe it's like a happy goodbye”

It's a good ending For him

“Are you going to kill Home” “I have no comment”

Normally he doesn't use Twitter at all, but he knew how big Polca was and wanted to interact with everyone, but after this he is going to basically quit twitter because it's not that good for him. But he is going to miss everyone 🥺

This man threw Tay and New under the bus so hard:

He really said, “They always have like some kind of hot chemistry. I don't know why, but I can not like stop them” He wanted the show to be as relaxed and normal as possible and their chemistry is their normal 🤷🏽 what can you do.

He said to bring tissues (The fear is real)

They had to cut a lot of dialogue because of time, but also to make the pacing better. But also because some ideas were too expensive

The biggest change was of Home's car crash (he said the words break up, and they teased him hard):

“If you could change something in the series, would you, and what would it be?” “How about Peaceful Property but it is a BL” (This asshole)

But being serious, he wouldn't change anything. They went through a lot of drafts, and he really loves what they ended up with

“I feel like when I speak in English, I sound smart” (Same. You think I sound weird in English, I'm worse in Spanish for some reason)

He had a hard time with The Gifted for different reasons, and that's why he went to do advertisement and commercial work afterward. After some years he stopped and wondered why he was doing this, and he realized that what he really wants to be is a storyteller and tell stories that would touch people

They asked for funny moments and he said this:

He doesn't like seeing people cry. Ironic

The hardest one was with Tay, because he worried about him

There wasn't a lot of improv, but in episode 8 during the scene where Home is dying, he didn't want Tay to focus on the script. So he just gave him one line, and the others are all things that he came up with during the scene. For example, “Who is going to play with my sister” is such a good line that Tay came up with himself (What the fuck Tay)

His first impressions of them: Tay talked a lot and New focused on 20 things at the same time

But he has grown to see they care a lot, sometimes they don't show it but you feel it, and they are also really hardworking each in their own way

They also went to university at the same time, and they are very close in age (he is the same age as New) so they get along really well, and they aren't afraid of speaking up if they have something in their mind (or sometimes gossip really loudly next to him to subtly let him know)

Tay was really popular in Uni, apparently. Dome used to see the both of them around, but he never talked to them.

They said destiny brought Taynew to him, but he said it was more like karma

Him and Mook used to bet who was going to win when they were bickering (New usually won)

He apologized for the bts videos being too short because the shoot tended to be very chaotic and Dome asked the people in charge of filming the videos to give the actors a rest because he felt it was too overwhelming for them sometimes

During COVID he spent like 6 months where every afternoon he had a beer with Junior and played video games because they didn't have work

Peach was originally a bartender!

The family restaurant is in the map of properties, and he did a bit of promo for it:

He loves all the ghost backstories, but the one that hit him the most was Phoom and Vicha

He grew up watching a lot of American TV shows, like Glee (???? of all the shows. Ryan Murphy leave me the fuck alone challenge?)

Peaceful Property was the working title actually, and they came up with the thai name after. He came up with a bunch of names and the people at gmmtv picked the On sale one.

“Peaceful property is not that peaceful, right? But it's peaceful in its heart”

Home does come from his name

Peach-Home doing the dance in episode 7 was not originally in the script, but he threw it in there for the Polcas (thanks P'Dome) because he knew people would like to see them do a bit of traditional dance

He recommended Beef and Baby Reindeer and an anime called Made in Abyss

Oh he really liked Ted Lasso, it says that he felt like the show made him a better person for sure (I did suspect from his birthday message. A man of taste)

He has never had ghost experiences that he remembers, but he said that his mom was scared once because once when he was little he was playing with a “boy” and there was no one there

While filming episode 7, after Jan read the little poem thing the wind came out at the perfect moment, and they got the shot. He said it was a little bit of magic

If he did Beef with Thai actors he would cast Tay because when he is angry he is very charming. (Valid. But I think that is just him always)

When people got jokingly mad at him he thought people were seriously angry at him (Sorry P'Dome, i swear it's with love)

At first he didn't feel like Tay and Jan were that similar, but while filming the show he said that Jan is the only one that can listen to Tay talk nonstop without complaining, and that they tend to laugh at the same things and have the same smile (thanks P'Tha for making them siblings)

He is glad that the 4 of them got even closer and became a little family in real life too

THERE IS A FINAL VIDEO EDIT FROM DOME EVERYONE CHEER!!!!!! He already finished it!

(Also he picked Welcome to my life for the Home edit because it was one of his favorite songs when he was in school. 👉🏽 Emo kid fucking detected. We will not be discussing how that was also my favorite song when I entered high school)

And that was the rough “summary” of the space that no one asked for. If you read all that, have a cookie.

[trahns]

who is your least and most favorite muse?

my favorite right now would have to be atreus, dylan & ryan. but mostly atreus

my least favorite is bakugou because im not too much of a fan of his source anymore and he tends to take over my blog because ive been writing him so long :sob: still like writing him though i just wish he wasnt such an attention hog

[outlying-hyppocrate]

in line to the bathroom just to cry!!

[burningcomputerpersona]

also how is it that spanish love songs has such good merch??? i don't think I've ever been to a show before where I had to struggle so hard to pick just one thing, like in a lot of cases there's only really one thing that appeals to me or I just get something bc i love the band and need to have them on me regardless of what the design looks like. but i was spending ages just staring at the merch stand trying to pick one out of alllll the things i wanted

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 7

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

series masterlist

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

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

“Spencer—wh—” 

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

“I missed you.”

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

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

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

Your face heats.  

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer.”

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

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

“So you came back to fuck me?”

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

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

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

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

A beat of silence. 

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

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

He follows you right through the door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

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

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

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

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

You try to process that. 

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

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

Your reply is small. 

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches at the casual admission. 

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not a nice thought.”

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

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips. 

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

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

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

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow. 

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

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

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

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

“Okay, goodni—”

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t make that face.”

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

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

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

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

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

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

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth. 

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

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

“Not currently.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you believe me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to slow down?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now what?”

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

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

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

“What’s the first?”

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

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

“And especially here.”

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

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

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

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

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

“Lie back.”

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

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

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

“You want me to leave marks?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mentioned.”

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

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

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

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

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

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

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

“Sorry.”

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

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Took it like a champ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You might be right about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But on my bed?”

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

“How chivalrous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice is equally as soft. 

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

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

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

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

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead, honey.”

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

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

He’s still perfect. 

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

“So good. Missed this.”

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

“It’s you.”

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

“Can I…?”

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

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

“Okay. Um…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly. 

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Super deep breaths for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre. 

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

“You okay? How does that feel?”

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

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

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

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

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

“Spence?” 

“Hm?”

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

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

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

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

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

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

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

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily. 

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

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

“I wanna watch.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?”

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

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

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

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

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

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

But it’s too much all combined. 

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

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

“Hi.”

He smiles. 

“You’re so pretty.”

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

“How do you feel?”

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

“Good. Tired.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were asleep.”

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

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

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

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face. 

“And thank you.”

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffle, gathering yourself. 

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

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

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

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile. 

“The Lord Byron poem?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was her name?”

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

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

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

You want the same. 

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

-

part eight

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 08:25 P.M 」

tw: pregnancy. overall, just some domestic dad-to-be gojo trying to show how much he loves you even with how your body changes and all <3 based on a request!

a part of gojo's love entries

don’t think that satoru hasn’t noticed how you linger in front of the mirror these days, touching your body all over—particularly your baby bump. seeing your face twist into a sad frown dampens his spirits too.

on the other hand, you understand that it’s a natural process, but you have never gained this much weight before, and despite already having your husband reassure you before, you still feel somewhat meh about yourself.

“how’s my favorite girl and little rascal doing today?” he flopped down on the bed beside you as soon as he returned from school, caressing your belly. “ready to come out yet?”

you throw him an unamused look. “no, satoru. and don’t make it sound so effortless. i’m the one pushing him out.”

“ahh, but i can’t wait though~”

his palpable excitement actually made you smile as you placed your hand over his. but then your smile fell a bit and he was quick to notice it.

“what’s on your mind?” he asked then. “talk to me, hmm?”

“no… it’s nothing.” you looked away, a bit ashamed. if satoru says he’s not bothered by your figure, you really shouldn’t be thinking about this any longer. you didn't want to make him worry… but it really wasn't easy to let it go.

“hmm, my baby mama can’t be sad,” your husband pouted, and suddenly he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “she’s the cutest when she smiles.”

you looked up to him, feeling the security in his arms and yet still a hint of uncertainty in your voice. “am i just cute… to you?”

you wanted to be beautiful too. like how he used to sing you praises during your school days.

satoru grinned. and it’s the kind of toothy grin that makes your heart soar.

“no. you’re also pretty.” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “and you’re smart, kind, nags a lot, gets pouty easily… and you're sweet like a dango, makes me want to gobble you up.”

“so now i’m a dango?” you nestled your head against his broad chest, feeling your face start to heat up, and a smile beginning to curve your lips. stupid satoru. he said all of them so easily it was making you giddy and felt silly for doubting him at all.

“just because our baby is going to be a mochi. and look, you’re so close to carrying him to full-term,” he rubbed your swollen tummy again, this time with a more sincere smile. “i love you the most for it.”

your eyes took a shine, processing his words, and you could’ve sworn that right now, nothing could’ve shaken your feelings for your silly husband.

suddenly your baby kicked you hard as if to reprimand you too for your insecurities, and you winced.

“hurts?” satoru questioned, slightly concerned when you nodded. “wait i’ll tell him off.”

he cleared his throat and began making circular motions on your abdomen, as if to summon him.

“yo, brat. you can’t kick your mama like that too often these days. you’re accumulating karma and she counts it. when you come out, she’ll forbid you from eating our favorite mochis and—”

“satoru!!”

and then the two of you just burst into giggles, and once again, you utterly and thoroughly fell in love with him. for always making you feel safe... and loved.

“you know, satoru...” this time it was you who hugged him, breathing in his scent for comfort. now you were totally worry-free, the softest of smile on your face. “i’m really grateful that... we found each other.”

at your heartfelt confession, satoru felt his chest tighten with warmth and his cheeks flush. he is so blushing and he tries covering it with a chuckle. and the words lingering at the tip of his tongue were—

“heh, aren’t you glad you married me?”

yeah... i’m so glad that it’s you too.

[theastrohub]

what city you should live in based on your moon sign ⏾

astrology can help you make an informed decision for something as significant as where one will live. and especially if you are a more hedonistic person like myself, choosing a place to live with a focus on personal satisfaction is a guaranteed upgrade in quality of life. it also helps you narrow down what your true emotional needs are and live a life more in alignment with your truest self.

choosing what city to live in based on your moon sign helps an individual with emotional fulfillment, being able to create a sense of belonging, stress reduction, enhanced creativity and productivity, better romantic and platonic relationships, and so much more.

here are my thoughts on your ideal city based on your moon sign:

一

⏾ virgo moon 一

kobe, japan + washington, D.C. (USA) + zurich, switzerland

you likely prefer a clean, walkable city that is health-conscious. ideal cities have paved roads, a lack of industrial machines or well-regulated factories, and a structured, straightforward urban planning model. a city safe enough to raise babies and young children is your benchmark. you value a city that emphasizes logical aspects of life. air pollution and trash management are crucial, so you'd thrive in cities with high air quality indexes, like those mentioned above.

一

⏾ libra moon 一

florence, italy + brooklyn, new york + capetown, south africa + amsterdam, netherlands + paris, france

as one of my favorite moon signs, you truly appreciate beauty, harmony, and aesthetics in where and how you live. you love cultured cities with plenty of artistic experiences. perhaps you're an artist yourself, seeking communities where you can express that creativity. a city that offers a balance of cityscape, mountainscape, and access to bodies of water appeals to your sense of harmony. you’re drawn to colorful, multicultural environments where you can accumulate luxury goods.

一

⏾ scorpio moon 一

new orleans, louisiana + mumbai, india + providence, rhode island

this one is tricky because scorpio Moons are known for being extremely intense and private, which doesn't always translate to a livable city (think Bermuda Triangle). however, you likely value transformative experiences and a form of social power. you want to be in a city that matches your intensity—a place that might be politically involved, spiritually inclined, or even part of some controversy. communities where you can explore taboo subjects or rise within social hierarchies are ideal for you.

一

⏾ sagittarius moon 一

toronto, canada + prage, czech republic + krabi, thailand + dubai, UAE

as one of the more hedonistic moon signs, you crave freedom—to be, to do, to have, etc. you prefer cities with a lot of versatility for living, offering options like big homes, sprawling lofts, small cozy one-bedrooms, and everything in between. cultured and religious cities appeal to your belief system, which is crucial to you. You need a place where you can live your philosophies freely and have fun. a city with many opportunities for adventure and easy access to other exciting places is essential. think road trips, bungee jumping, scuba diving.

一

⏾ capricorn moon 一

london, england + manhattan, new york + melbourne, australia

one word: old-fashioned. capricorns are often seen as traditional, and there's a reason for that. as a capricorn moon, you value cities that operate like institutions—places that have stood the test of time without much change to their foundation. ambition and hard work are of utmost importance, so cities with a professional or hustle culture appeal to you. you are drawn to cities in countries with a strong identity or culture that gratify your sense of tradition. cities where you can network, accumulate wealth, and indulge in luxuries are your ideal.

一

⏾ aquarius moon 一

san francisco, california + rome, italy + new orleans, louisiana + portland, oregon

with pluto in aquarius, I anticipate more moves for aquarius moons, which is great because this is the most community-centered sign in my opinion. aquarius moons value living in cities where they can positively contribute, socialize, and build relationships based on shared interests. you are drawn to innovative, creative cities that are always ahead of trends. you also appreciate cities that are civically mindful and contribute to humanitarian efforts on both local and grand scales.

一

⏾ pisces moon 一

bali, indonesia + bora bora, french polynesia + rome, italy + paris, france

pisces moons are one of the moon signs that truly need to feel "drawn" to a place before visiting or residing there. emotional fulfillment, romance, and creativity are non-negotiable for pisces moons. because of this, beautiful, artistic cities with many opportunities to be near bodies of water are ideal. beach cities and honeymoon destinations are perfect for pisces Moons' empathic and sensitive nature. A city with a calm undercurrent is essential to satisfy your need for rest and peace.

一

⏾ aries moon 一

rome, italy + los angeles, california + tokyo, japan + cairo, egypt + mumbai, india

similar to capricorn moon, its cardinal sibling, aries moons need the opportunity to keep on the go wherever they live. For this reason, you're best suited to "cities that never sleep"—places where you can stay active, compete in major global industries, and reach newer heights. you're drawn to cities with fiery traditions and those that excel in national rankings. you also appreciate cities that are vocal about their value systems and embrace trends.

一

⏾ taurus moon 一

honolulu, hawaii + havana, cuba + las vegas, nevada + ibiza, spain + tokyo, japan

much like libra moons, venus-ruled moons love venus-ruled cities. taurus moons enjoy cities that are comfortable in every sense—materially, socially, politically, and aesthetically. you appreciate cities that are openly hedonistic—notorious vacation spots are actually great places for you to establish yourself. cities with strong tourism markets are good for your desire for material success as they are epicenters of culture and attract people from all walks of life.

一

⏾ gemini moon 一

chicago, illinois + boston, massachusetts + cairo, egypt + lisbon, portugal

as a gemini moon, cities that are versatile, education-centered, and logical are appealing to you. you thrive in places where "everyone knows everyone" and socializing is a priority. cities known for their educational institutions and vibrant social life satisfy your need for variety and communication. cities with a strong tourist presence are also appealing, as you enjoy the ability to feel like a tourist in your own city at any time.

一

⏾ cancer moon 一

sydney, australia + niagara falls , new york + instanbul, turkey + berne, switzerland + mogadishu, somalia

cancer moons love domestic cities that are more feminine in nature. Like their sister sign capricorn, they strongly value traditions, both cultural and social, but in a softer manner. they prefer cities with a strong influence by women and things traditionally associated with women, like fashion, beauty, and the arts. cities with beaches and a strong luminary presence are essential, as they are the water-bearers of the zodiac. cities with a balance between domesticity and capitalism appeal to their need for material security and a good home. a city with a strong real estate market and that is ideal for newlyweds and families is also preferred.

一

⏾ leo moon 一

los angeles, california + miami, florida + mexico city, mexico + marrakesh, morocco + ibiza, spain

much like aquarius moons, the need to be around people is prominent with leo moons. leo moons value being in cities that honor appearance and aesthetics. being seen, being talked about, romance, and play are priority for a leo moon when moving. a city where they can explore artistic pursuits and new cultures. cities that promote health and wellness and image. cities with social hierarchies and strong social networks. cities that are "popular" with the whole world. also cities that are known for night-life and social life. cities where you can regularly rub elbows with important people and indulge in the grandiosities of life.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

the moon in astrology is a gateway to a deeper understanding of one's desires, needs, and motivations which can help in making better-informed decisions on where to move or establish a life. I highly suggest you take this into consideration on your next trip or relocation.

thank you for reading 💋

@astrobaeza

for more: [ paidservices ₊ masterlist ₊ tips ]

[thehouseofurmotha]

Shinsou dating Aizawa's daughter head cannons :)

Pairing: Shinsou x Aizawa!Reader

I'm also working on a soulmate au with Shinsou 🤭 I fear he may be my favorite

• You and him meet when Aizawa asks you to spar with him, as you both have quirks that are less equipped for close range combat. You're in class 1-A too which is the class Shinsou would most likely join when he ends up in the hero course so it just made sense.

• You whoop his ass, he's immediately in love. He thinks you're extremely skilled and talented and pretty much begs you to help train him with your dad.

• Maybe it's because he wants to see you more often, but you don't need to know that.

• You ultimately agree and you and Shinsou pretty muuuuch become besties.

• But this is not enough for this man because he is absolutely enamored with you.

• One day while the two of you are sparing, your father leaves to go get another cup of coffee. And at this point he finally manages to pin you to the ground.

• For whatever reason he decides this is the best time to shoot his shot and is like, "Go on a date with me?" While he's just casually got you pinned to the ground.

• You don't manage to give him an answer before your dad gets back, but after you get up and brush yourself off you look at him and mouth a simple 'yes'.

• He smiles like a madman at this and your father looks at him and asks him what he's smiling about. He quickly goes back to his normal tired resting face with a quick nothing.

• Aizawa def thinks this is weird but he decides not to press any father. He feels bad pressing kids to tell him something they don't really have to.

• You guys go on a few dates before you officially start dating. Your father definitely notices that something about the two of you has changed but he doesn't realize that it has to do with the two of you being together.

• He finds out when he walks into your room while you and Shinsou were supposed to be just hanging out and watching a movie. Which he didn't find odd because the two of you had become fast friends with the friendly competition of sparring. But as he walks into your room to ask the two of you want for dinner he finds the two of you making out.

• He IMMEDIATELY kicks Shinsou out of your guys apartment. He isn't really mad that you guys are together he's just mad that you hid it from him and he had to find out like this.

• You guys have a very long conversation about being safe, and he definitely calls Midnight to handle most of it because he thinks he might just simply pass out from embarrassment. (You as well)

• He tells you he doesn't really care as long as you're happy. But this man does not let Shinsou live it down.

• Bro is fighting for his life during training the next day being worked so hard.

• Shinsou eventually gets back on your dad's good side and he comes over for weekly dinners.

I fear I may have an obsession with dadzawa.. and Shinsou.. I'm simply js a girl though. Anyways I hope you enjoyed :) <3 happy reading!

[watchmegetobsessed]

SOFT LAUNCH

A/N: luckily i actually wrote this concept for once lol

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: You officially soft launch your relationship.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Your usual barely changed when your relationship with Harry moved from a friendship to a romantic relationship. Well, at least your public usual. 

Because in the privacy of your home or when around you it’s strictly the people you trust, a lot changed. The kisses, the touches, the looks, it’s obvious just how hard you fell in love with each other and your friends often tease the two of you for being great actors for hiding all of these the moment you step out into the public. Very early into your relationship the two of you agreed to keep it as private as possible, so the world didn’t see a single thing of how you eased from being friends into becoming a couple. 

Spotting you out and about together wasn’t a new thing, you’d been friends for a while before you finally took everything down another road, there were plenty of pictures of the two of you grabbing lunch or coffee, hanging out with friends or even attending events. The moment you were spotted for the first time rumors started spreading that you might be an item, but with time they died down and back then, they weren’t true. But what people didn’t see was the shift that happened behind all those simply friendly pictures, how you both fell for each other and your love blossomed steadily and undeniably behind the scenes while everyone else started to accept that you are nothing more than good friends. 

There were photos, still, but what the tabloids didn’t see was the kiss you shared the moment you were behind closed doors. 

It’s been over ten months and you’re definitely over that first phase where all you can see is the pink clouds, no one around you is questioning if this is just a fling, it’s quite clear you are planning your future together. 

There is a downside of keeping your relationship in the shadows however, a kind of freedom is taken away that’s given for everyone else. Date nights have been restricted to your or Harry’s place, if you wanted to go out somewhere you always needed extra people around you so it wouldn’t look romantic. You haven’t been able to go on a vacation, just the two of you, because it would draw suspicion, so it’s been always with others, friends and family. You can’t set your favorite photo of him as your lockscreen, because fans are always quick to spot him in the tiniest details. 

It’s not that you want to post about him day and night, that’s not your style, never was, you like to keep things private, it might be selfishness or consciousness, doesn’t matter. But some days it would be nice to hold his hand as you walk down the street, share a reassuring kiss as you wait in line at the coffee shop or share a photo to your Instagram that features him and only him. 

So it’s been lingering in the back of your head, the thought of being just the tiniest bit more public, allowing yourself to enjoy your love outside of the comfort of your home. 

This is what your mind is racing about as you watch Harry move around the room. The warm Italian sun is peeking through the curtains, calling your name for another wonderful day, exploring Rome. The white, rippled sheets are snaked around your body comfortably, the other half of the bed is still warm from his body. You’re currently residing in a villa that’s hidden enough from curious eyes to let you be yourself even in the backyard, not just inside. 

You mindlessly scroll through your photos from yesterday while Harry is showering and when he appears with a towel wrapped around his hips, hair still damp, water drops running down his chest as he is scratching his jawline and you already know what his question will be. He stops at the end of the bed and opens his mouth, but you’re quicker.

“Do you think I should shave it?” you ask, imitating his voice by lowering yours. He gives you a cheeky look.

“Well, should I?”

“Told you, I love you both ways.”

“Okay, but you surely have a preference,” he pushes.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the pillow, keeping eye contact with him. 

“The stache is… always more than welcomed.”

He chuckles and then walks back in. When he emerges a minute later he is dressed and his facial hair is still the same. 

“Up, up! We have a lot to see today!” He reaches under the covers and easily finds your leg, wrapping his hand around your ankle he tugs on you gently, to which you just grunt at him disapprovingly. 

“Just five more minutes!”

“Come on, don’t you want to explore more?”

“Yeah, but I also want to sleep more.”

“Think of all the pasta and pizza we could be eating right now…” He barely even finishes, you’re already jumping out of bed, sprinting towards the bathroom. Harry just chuckles.

A couple of hours later your little group is grazing the streets of Rome again. You haven’t planned anything major for today, just exploring and having a relaxing time. To be honest, your feet are thankful for a slower day, you feel like you’ve walked around the world these past couple of days. 

Sometime after lunch, your group breaks up. Some want to go souvenir shopping, others want to go back to the villa while you and Harry plan to check out a hidden little park you read about online. So now it’s just the two of you strolling down the streets and as you listen to Harry talk, all you can think about is how your hands are hanging by your sides, sometimes even brush against each other, but you can’t hold his. 

When you find a great spot with amazing view of the city you instantly want to take a picture together, one where Harry is hugging you from behind, the panoramic view of the city in the background, you can already see the picture in your mind and you also think of a place in your home where it would look amazing framed. 

But you know you can’t take a photo like that, you can sense how a few girls recognized the two of you, now they are a few feet away, pretending like they are just casually taking videos, but you know they are recording you and Harry, so you can’t risk it. 

Instead, you both just take pictures of each other, staying as friendly as possible. Your phone is still in your hand when the girls come up to Harry at last, starting a chit chat with him and asking for photos that you end up taking of them of course. They thank his time politely and the two of you move on. 

When you’re lying in bed at the end of the day you’re scrolling through your gallery, smiling to yourself at some of the candid pictures you’ve snapped of Harry today. These are your favorite, when he is just being himself and you catch a glimpse of his true essence, keeping it forever in that frame. 

Then you find a photo you took probably accidentally when the girls approached you earlier. You must have snapped it when you were putting away your phone, it features Harry standing on the cobblestone, but only his feet and his tattooed arm is shown, his skin is a warm tanned color from being out in the Sun so much lately, his tattoos look so cool, you always loved the edge they give him. It’s also such a candid picture and for some reason you just love it so much, it’s exactly the kind of photo you’d post on your Instagram story. 

The door to the bedroom opens and Harry walks in with two bottles of water in his hands, he places one to your nightstand before he joins you in bed, opening his. 

“Why are you staring at a photo of my… arm?” he asks with a chuckle, when he sees what you have open on your screen. 

“You have a nice arm,” you grin up at him. “I just… like this photo,” you add with a shrug. 

Harry hums, but doesn’t really get stuck on the topic. He turns his attention to his own phone, sneaking one arm under your head, pulling you closer to cuddle him. But you’re still stuck on the photo and all the feelings and thoughts you’ve been struggling with. 

“H?” you finally lift your head to look at him. 

“Yes baby?”

“Have you ever thought of… being a bit more public? About us?”

He locks his phone and puts it aside to give you his undivided attention. He never fails to make you feel like his number one priority.

“I have, yeah.”

“And what do you think if we just… went for it? What if we just stopped hiding.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I just… I would love to act like a couple more, not just when we’re alone, behind closed doors. I’m not saying we should make out on the street, but… Holding hands, a few tiny kisses, these would be nice.”

Harry stays silent and you grow nervous that he might see it all entirely differently. You know it better than anyone else that Harry values his privacy highly, however he is not the most private public figure either, that’s also fact. 

His gaze finds yours and slowly, you notice a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. 

“Whatever you feel comfortable with, I’m okay with that as well.”

“Really?” You let out a relieved breath as you sit up in surprise. He chuckles.

“Of course. I just wanted to protect you. And I will still be doing that, but if you feel like you’re okay with being a couple for the rest of the world as well, then let’s do that.”

At first you pout at him, touched at how calm and supportive he is about the whole thing, then you just throw yourself at him, kissing him stupid. 

“So then can I soft launch you?” you ask against his lips. 

“What?” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Soft launch. I want to post this picture,” you say holding up your phone again, showing him the photo from earlier, “on my Instagram story. Your face is not shown, but everyone will know it’s you. That’s a soft launch, posting a suspicious but not straight forward picture of your partner.”

“Okay, Miss Urban Dictionary,” he laughs, his hand cupping the back of your head to bring you down for another kiss. 

Cuddling to his side you open Instagram and then put the line ‘LOVE-ly day in Rome’ between his tattoos so it’s not quite what you notice at first, but it definitely catches your attention if you look at the photo for a few more seconds. 

“How do you like it?” you ask, showing him your phone.

“The best soft launch of history,” he teases you before you finally post it. 

Then you watch what happens together. Though you don’t have as many followers as Harry does, a lot of his fans engage with your social media profiles as well, hoping to get some content from you as well. Just a few minutes later the photo starts spreading across the internet of course, it reaches Twitter, Tiktok and other platforms, the reactions are mixed and pretty much all over the place, some aren’t the nicest, but Harry is quick to remind you just how much he loves you. 

When you both put your phones away, shutting the rest of the world out, you’re lying in bed, facing each other, your hands laced together between the two of you. 

“Now it’s out there,” you whisper.

“Softly,” he jokes and you just roll your eyes at him, smiling. “Is hard launch a thing as well?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that like?”

“Well, it has to feature your pretty face, preferably in a romantic setting.”

“Will we also be doing that?”

“Hmm… maybe.”

“Okay,” he smiles warmly. “But soft or hard, I will always love you.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[rafey-baby]

c/w: stalker!rafe being creepy & stealing reader's underwear, suggestive texts from an unknown number & a stranger walking her home

wc: 2.3k

he’s been on my mind lately…happy kinktober xx

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The feeling of impending doom has been crawling up her bones for several weeks now. At first, she thought it was merely her imagination playing tricks on her; having watched one too many horror films with her friends but as the days went on and the feeling of unease continued, she began to feel paranoid. 

She kept feeling like someone was watching her; lurking in the shadowy corners of her house and following her every movement with a morbid gaze glued to her form whether she was out with friends or merely cleaning her living room.

She didn’t like it, didn’t know when it exactly began but she wanted nothing more than for the peculiar feeling to disappear.

She’d be changing her clothes in order to get ready for bed when suddenly a shiver would tingle along her spine and make her snap her head towards her window; trying to desperately catch some creep ogling her, so she'd finally have some sort of an explanation. Instead, she’d be met with nothing more than the leafy trees of her gloomy backyard before she’d quickly draw the curtains closed. 

In addition, lately she’d been having nightmares more often than usual; waking up in the middle of the night panting with her heart thudding in her ribcage and sometimes she could swear she felt the eyes of a stranger still lingering on her sweaty skin. 

Then one night, when she’s rinsing her mouth after brushing her teeth, her phone lights up with a notification.

unknown number

why are your bedroom curtains never open anymore?

look so pretty in your underwear…

4 attachments

The device clatters against the bathroom tiles when it slips from her hold as her eyes scan over the multiple pictures of her half naked; all taken through the glass of the large window in her room. A window she's lately been making sure is covered at all times.

She plucks it from the floor with trembling fingers and reads over the messages once more; heart rapidly thudding in her ribcage making it hard for her to think as her fingertips glide across the screen to type out a response. 

you

who is this?

im gonna call the cops

unknown number

do I scare you?

And instead of responding, she blocks the number. However, when the police arrive and search her house and her backyard, they find nothing. They merely tell her that it’s ’probably nothing serious, just some kid pulling a prank on you’ with an apologetic smile before leaving. 

A couple of days go by and she’s beginning to believe that maybe it was truly someone playing tricks on her when all of a sudden, her phone vibrates with an incoming call from another unknown number as she’s boiling pasta for dinner.

This time, she decides to simply ignore it; choosing to believe it’s someone calling the wrong number for her own peace of mind. However, that’s long forgotten when a new message illuminates the screen and her breath gets caught in her windpipe as she scans it over. 

unknown number

breaking my heart here princess :(

you

leave me alone

unknown number

but that’s no fun, is it?

you

what do u want from me?

unknown number

want you to keep your curtains open more often

you

so u can take more pictures of me?

unknown number

can just watch if that’s what you prefer?

you

leave me alone

please

She repeats before turning off her phone for the rest of the night. 

She thinks he’s actually listened because no unknown numbers try to contact her for some time, causing her to turn less anxious by each silent day that rolls around. However, when she begins to notice that pairs of her underwear keep disappearing, her mind wanders over to the only person who could be behind it.

At first, she doesn’t think too much of the fact that she can’t seem to find her favorite panties anywhere, assuming she’s merely misplaced them. However, when a white lacy pair she saves for special occasions vanishes from her drawer she grows restless. If she hasn’t worn it in months, it should be where she left it, right?

The air suddenly feels like sand; poking at her lungs as if it’s filled with tiny rocks when she becomes aware of the fact that in order for him to steal her stuff he’s had to break into her home. Therefore, he’s been in her bedroom before and probably her kitchen, living room and bathroom as well. And the first time could’ve easily been weeks ago. 

Nausea steeped in dread grovels up her insides and sits heavy in her stomach at the realization that he could be in here right now.

If he wanted to hurt her, then he would’ve done it by now. Or at least that’s what she keeps telling herself in order to offer some form of solace for her troubled thoughts.

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The following night she’s wiping her eyes clean of mascara by the sink when a text pops up. 

psycho stalker

someone came home late

have fun on your date?

Chills erupt on her skin as she peers down at the screen. After the all too tedious date she’s just had, she’s entirely too exhausted with his arduous mind games on top of it all; wants to bury herself under her covers and close her eyes for an eternity.

However, she’s not entirely convinced he won’t come up with another way to disturb her if she stops responding altogether as another message pops up.

psycho stalker

assuming not too much fun since you didn’t bring him home..

you

none of your business 

psycho stalker

was he boring?

talked about himself the whole time and didn’t ask a single question about you?

She blinks a few times because he’s not exactly wrong. How on earth did he— 

you

what the fuck is wrong with you

you’re following me now??

She tries to remember whether she saw anyone suspicious at the restaurant but she can’t recall anything out of the ordinary catching her attention. However, she wasn’t aware she was supposed to keep her eyes open for her possible stalker, which is why her brain isn’t being very helpful at the moment.

psycho stalker

just wanted to make sure you were safe

you

I feel very safe right now thank you

psycho stalker

someone’s got an attitude

that bad?

you

please just leave me alone 

psycho stalker

what color are your panties?

you

what the hell?

not telling you that

psycho stalker

want me to come over and find out for myself then? 

you

u wouldn’t do that 

psycho stalker

wanna bet?

She tries to even out her respiration because she does not want to find out whether he’s merely toying with her or if he’s actually being serious. 

you

…

black

psycho stalker

with the lace?

you

yes

psycho stalker

shit

that’s one of my favorites on you

you

you’re sick in the head

psycho stalker

that’s not very nice

did you wear them for him?

you

he wasn’t worth it

don’t think he would’ve even been able to make me come

psycho stalker

yeah?

need help with that?

you

not from you creep

why are you stealing my underwear?

psycho stalker

cause you don’t give me shows anymore :(

they’re a little dirty now but want me to return them?

you

you’re disgusting

psycho stalker

and you're up past your bedtime cause you like talking to me

you

I don't

gonna sleep now

please leave me alone

psycho stalker

sweet dreams princess

At that, she finally locks her phone; wishing she’ll actually be granted some well needed rest tonight.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

One night she’s walking home from the grocery store, mind occupied with the prospect of digging into the tub of strawberry ice cream in her bag as she’s messaging her friend who’s enthusiastically telling her the details of the kiss she shared with a girl she’d had a crush on for ages.  

Then completely out of the blue, she bumps into someone’s sturdy chest.  

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she's quick to apologize before she looks up and is met with blue sapphires that twinkle even under the dim street lamps.  

They’re slightly covered by the guy’s chocolate hair falling into his face, resulting in him raking a hand through the strands as his brows raise, almost like he's surprised. However, that wouldn't really make any sense since she's never seen him before, she figures. 

“S’all good. Wasn’t really looking either,” he rasps out as his intense gaze bores into her, almost as if he’s studying her; examining her every reaction. 

“No, it was really my fault. Shouldn’t be texting and walking at the same time,” she forces out a laugh and tries to step away from him and continue on with her journey. However, he halts her movements when he speaks up again.   

“Shouldn’t be walking alone this late either, you know. All kinds of creeps out here just waiting for the opportunity to attack pretty girls like you,” he reminds her with a strange tinge to his voice that causes the hairs on her arms to stand.  

She’s unable to pinpoint what it is exactly. She thinks his features are otherwise quite appealing but there’s something almost disturbing about his aura. 

“I know, but it’s really just a ten-minute walk. I’ll be fine,” she offers him a tight smile, timidly fiddling with the strap of her shopping bag.  

“Why don’t I walk you home, yeah?” His offer comes out as something ominous rather than concern over her safety and the stillness of the darkened October sky surrounding them suddenly makes unease litter across her skin.  

“No, I think I’m okay. Thank you, though,” she politely declines and tries to tiptoe away from his intimidating presence, albeit uselessly.  

“It’s past midnight already, let me walk you,” he nearly insists; seemingly not accepting no for an answer as his tone resembles more of a demand now. 

“O— okay, um…sure,” she swallows around the words and watches how the corners of his mouth tug up. What has she gotten herself into? For all she knows, this man could be a serial killer and she's just signed up her faith as his next victim. 

The murky sidewalk is quiet as they tread along it and she keeps glancing towards him every now and then; reassuring herself that a sharp knife or a gun hasn't magically appeared in his hand. 

Although, she thinks he wouldn't need a weapon to drag her helpless form into the woods with his much stronger arms. Under the obscurity provided by the old trees, he could easily strangle her until her soul would wither away from her lifeless eyes; getting his fix from leaving her limp body on the muddy moss as death kisses her cold, tear-streaked cheeks.  

“Something on your mind?” His sudden question makes her jump. 

“N— no, nothing. I just— have we met before?” She hesitantly asks, turning to look at him and noticing his gaze already resting on her face.  

“Pretty sure I’d remember if we had,” his indistinct response is calm, too calm for her liking.  

“It's just that, um, it's a small neighborhood and I've never seen you around?” She flits her eyes over to him, trying to figure him out. 

“I don't live here,” his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip; the ambiguity of his answer not soothing her racing brain in the slightest.  

“Oh, okay...cool,” she peeps out; trying to appear as nonchalant as ever, even if her breathing has turned fragmented and her head is spinning.  

A gruesome smirk morphs his mouth at her obvious nervousness and for some reason, he appears to be enjoying this; finding crooked entertainment in her dismay.  

He halts in front of her home before she’s even digested that they’ve already arrived at her destination.  

“How did you— how did you know this was my house?” She tentatively wonders. 

“Lucky guess,” he merely shrugs with a smile that's nowhere near uplifting. 

She blinks. 

“Right, well, thanks for walking me...I’m gonna go now,” she squeaks out and takes a step towards the front yard.  

“Sweet dreams, Princess,” he murmurs and her entire form tenses in response to the familiarity of the nickname. 

“What did you just say?” Something dire bubbles up in her throat at the bizarre sense of deja vu. 

“Just wished you a good night? You feeling alright?” He furrows his brows in what should appear as concern for her wellbeing but she notices something twisted glinting in his overly worried eyes; almost like some sort of sick satisfaction.  

“I’m— I’m fine. Just…tired, I guess,” she manages out as a crease forms between her brows and her breathing grows labored when his mouth curls into an almost sinister smirk.  

“You sure?”  

She flinches when he sets a heavy hand on her arm and he's suddenly all too close for comfort. 

“Y— yes,” she tries to pull away. However, she unfortunately stumbles on her wobbly feet, nearly tumbling down on the harsh grass if not for his firm arms holding her upright by a grip on her waist. 

“Careful now, don't wanna hurt yourself, do you?” He scolds her with a click of his tongue; steadying her with an intrigued narrow of blue gemstones.  

“Sorry,” a breathy apology escapes past her lips as her eyes flicker down to where his touch is burning her skin, even through the thick material of her sweater. 

“Run along then, yeah?” He murmurs as he lets go of her along with a small push towards the right direction.   

Then she’s scurrying over to her doorstep, feeling his eerie stare following her; trepidation clogging her lungs as she decides against glancing towards him once more, closing her front door and making sure it’s locked, twice.