#this is directed at one person and one person only

[qlossytbh]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeuQ8EA6/

I am obsessed with this edit!

Can you do a spencer reid x bau reader where she is very closed off emotionaly so he doesnt know if she likes him back or not until she does the little "tuck her hair behind her ears thing"?

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you were someone spencer found very hard to read. that is until the day of your birthday, where you accidentally do the infamous double tuck

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 PURE FLUFF, my beloved awkward spence <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 this is so sickeningly sweet. my heart is literally about to implode, they’re so awkward and wholesome. this request was so fucking cute i just had to do something with it

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Garcia!" You smiled sweetly, immediately infecting those around with a mirror of your very smile. You held one of your favorite candles between your hands, tracing the glass beneath your fingertips— You had just been meaning to buy a new one.

Garcia beamed proudly, knowing she had nailed your birthday gift, a task many deemed imposible. It’s not that you were hard to please, not at all. You had always been closed off with those around you, opting to talk very little about yourself and allowing people to talk a lot about themselves, which is what people nowadays loved doing. As a profiler, you knew exactly how to prevent prying eyes from seeing anything past the depths of yours.

However, to Spencer particularly, it was absolutely infuriating to not be able to read you properly. Any hypothesis he made up in his head based on any of your gazes, your gestures, your small quirks and antics— only turned out being proven wrong since you'd completely redirect him in an opposite direction to what he believed you were thinking.

He was constantly thrown off by you, and Spencer wasn't the type of person who particularly enjoyed being wrong or not being able to perfectly calculate and analyze a situation. His job was profiling after all.

There was a single reason and he tried to remain completely oblivious. But he knew that the only reason as to why he wanted so desperately to know about you was because he liked you— he really liked you.

As in 'became a blabbering mess around you' liked you, as in 'couldn't formulate a coherent sentence around you' liked you— It was so hard for him to act normal around you. Anytime you appeared out of no where, asking how his day had been, and offering another one of those teeth-rottening sweet smiles, he'd go blank and feel utterly stupid. Every aspect of being a genius vanished into thin air when it came to you.

Morgan teased him persistently, being able to see his fuming crush from a mile away. Spencer sat down quietly, watching you hug Garcia happily as you sat the candle down onto your desk. When you pulled away, you tucked a single strand of hair behind one ear, smiling brightly.

"So, has she done it yet?" Morgan inquired, appearing right behind Spencer as he watched you silently from his own desk. Spencer flinched, turning immediately in his chair, looking over at his fellow co-worker and friend like a deer caught in headlights. He used his hand to push Morgan's face away from his with a shove. Garcia, who accompanied Morgan, stood by the side, bemused entirely by the situation .

Morgan lowered his tone, lacing it with implicit teases that flew past his familiar smirk. He leaned against Spencer's desk. "So how's the stalking going Lover boy?"

Garcia laughed to herself unwittingly while she mixed her coffee around in her mug with a spoon. Spencer glowered at the two of them.

"I'm not stalking," He defended matter of factly. "And stop with the 'lover boy'"

"But that's what you'd call someone who's head over heels for our dear little—"  Morgan began saying in a sing-song voice as he poked at Spencer's cheek, desperate to get a reaction out of his constant teasing. With a firm slap, Spencer shooed him away, blushing profusely.

"I'm not.!" He fussed. Garcia let out a soft snort, to which Spencer was not amused by. In the slightest.

"Really?" Garcia asked, almost in amusement. The only one truthfully believing what Spencer was saying was himself.

"I'm just looking t-to—" Spencer pulled his lips into a flat line, unable to come up with a plausible excuse quick enough. "—to figure out what she may want for her birthday."

Garcia and Morgan exchanged a brief glance before simultaneously regarding Spencer. He sputtered, still glaring at them.

"What?!"

"Oh nothing.." Garcia took a sip of her coffee with a smirk. "Has she done it yet?"

"I asked the same thing!" Derek turned to Garcia. They laughed together as if one big secret was being tossed around in front of everyone and no one else knew. Spencer furrowed his brows, looking at them oodly.

"Done what?" Spencer couldn't help but ask, curiosity tickling him.

"The double tuck," Garcia stated, looking back over at Reid. The furrow in Spencer's brow deepened as he opened his mouth to speak.

"The—what?"

Derek then proceeded to give a very specific demonstration of whatever it was Garcia was talking about. Derek batted his lashes, putting on the most innocent face he could muster and giggled nervously as he pretended to tuck hair behind both ears. Spencer cringed at his antics while Garcia let out a laugh.

"When she really likes a guy and gets nervous she tucks her hair behind both ears at the same time,"

Spencer looked back over at you as you handed a fellow co-worker a few files, talking aimlessly. You threw your head back laughing at something the woman who chatted with you had said and Spencer couldn't stop a small smile from creeping it’s way onto his face.

"She hasn't," He said, still looking at you intently. Garcia and Derek shared a look and with one more sip of coffee, she added.

"She will.”

"Watch out lover boy, she'll catch you staring—" Morgan whispered in Spencer's ear, which only caused him to reach back in protest and slap Derek away. He turned to glare at him while Morgan laughed.

You thanked Garcia one final time and turned your attention over at Morgan who was now laughing in a way that you felt intrigued enough to want to be involved in whatever it was the two of them were laughing at. You tilted your head slightly to the side, furrowing your brows with a smile.

"What's so funny over there boys?" Penelope asked, lips curving into a sly smirk while she crossed her arms across her body. Spencer froze, looking over at you immediately.

"Uh— we, uhm—" He stammered, cheeks beginning to buzz with heat. Before he could dig his grave any deeper, JJ and Emily walked into the room singing happy birthday with a tray of cupcakes in their hands.

You turned to them, eyes blowing wide. A nervous laugh erupted out of you, causing you to lower your face and hide it in your hands, feeling profusely embarrassed. Getting this kind of public attention wasn’t something you preferred, and it made you wonder if there was anyone that truthfully enjoyed getting their chants of happy birthday’s in public.

Spencer’s could practically feel and hear the way his heart bursted in his chest as he watched you crinkle your face in embarrassment. It was evident on every single fraction of his face— the awe that pooled behind his irises and the way his cheeks were tainted a specific shade of pink.

"Someone's fallin'—" Derek started.

"Shut up."

The day had gone by swiftly. It had been a slow and uneventful day, so no crimes were up for reviewing. You had instead, been drowned in paperwork that had your back aching by the end of the day.

However, being surrounded by all of your friends and receiving so much appreciation and love on your special day had been a plus, urging you further to push throughout the rest of the day.

Hotch had given you an okay to leave early, and knowing that your parents were waiting for you to take you out for your birthday dinner, you hurriedly packed up your things into your purse.

On your way out, you shot a goodbye to everyone with a bright smile plastered across your features. As you walked past Spencer's desk, you offered him a brief glance accompanied with a small wave. “Bye Spence,"

He waved back woefully, blinking rapidly and pressing his lips into a tight smile that inched sideways. Not wanting to give himself the pleasure of gawking at you further, he turned to his files, swirling his pen in his hand nervously.

Someone cleared their throat, catching Spencer's attention. He turned seeing JJ, Emily and Morgan peering over at him from their respective desks.

"Really?" Emily pinched the skin between her eyebrows with frustration.

"What?" Suddenly he was feeling mortified that all his co-workers had been watching his entire inner-turmoil.

"Did you even give her the gift you spent weeks putting together?" JJ tested, resting her chin in her hand. Spencer looked away sheepishly, scribbling something onto his paper and not entirely sure how JJ knew about it.

"I— I forgot.." He said, voice small while he tripped over his own words.

"Reid, just get out there," Derek urged. He was beginning to get restless with watching the two of you ghost around eachother like two idiots.

Spencer stopped scribbling and glanced over at you briefly as you walked out the main door that lead towards the elevators. He looked back over to the others who all shot him a look of encouragement. He supposed that it wouldn't be a bad idea just to— you know, give you your present.

The impulse in him was screaming and yelling at him to just get up and chase after you. But another part of him was forcing him to stay glued to his desk, letting you leave yet again.

It really didn't help him not being sure where you stood when it came to your friendship. At times, he’d get the smallest intuition that maybe, just even possibly, you were on the same page as him, but the insecurity that lingered within him was loud enough to prevent him from ever doing anything about it.

He had to get over himself— it was just a present. Everyone had given you one except him, and he didn't want you thinking he didn't care. He knew he didn't give it to you not because he didn't care but because he cared too much and he felt really scared that maybe by giving you his gift you may not—

He clapped his eyes shut, realizing he really had to stop overthinking and just, in the ‘wise’ words of Morgan, 'shoot his shot'.

Spencer, peered down at his pocket, and back over at the door.

You pushed the glass door open, looking down at your phone and tugging your scarf up to cover your nose from the piercing cold.

"Y/n!" You turned, surprised to see Spencer running through the lobby and out the main door, catching up to you.

You watching him, wide-eyed and taken aback as he jogged up to you, opening his mouth to say something but having to lean over to catch his breath. He didn’t know if it had been the brief run or the unforeseen anxiety that caused him to run out of breathe— whichever it was, he needed to work on it.

You let out a soft laugh, finding his behavior amusing. “You okay?”

You followed him with your gaze while he finally straightened himself. No words were said as his chest heaved. He looked into your eyes, immediately regretting it as his rapid pulse hammered against his head. You too began to feel your heart begin to pick up its pace until you found yourself reaching up and tucking your hair behind both ears, looking at the floor sheepishly

And there it was.

Spencer's mind stopped running the second he registered your movements and Garcia's words flashed across his mind so quickly he almost didn’t remember.

"When she really likes a guy and gets nervous she tucks her hair behind both ears at the same time,"

"I, uhm—" He started, trying to prevent a grin from rising onto his face at his newfound information.

You watched him curiously, starting to wonder if his cheeks were turning pink due to how cold it was or if he was possibly blushing.

Spencer reached into his pocket and took out a small chained bracelet. It was small and dainty— nothing too flashy or flamboyant. He held his slightly trembling hand out to you, revealing the small, nearly minuscule butterfly charm that sat on center of it. You stared at it in awe, reaching over and grasping it.

As you stared at it, you recalled the first conversation you had with Spencer. It was nearly spring and you were on one of your first cases with the team. As you inspected one of the crime scenes, a butterfly had suddenly latched onto your wrist.

You looked at the small insect, briefly startled, but once realizing the absence of danger, you quickly allowed yourself to gaze upon the bug with curiosity and awe.

Spencer watched you intently. He knew close to nothing about you, but something inside him twisted with your tender gaze towards something so small and fragile. He couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth and beginning one of his endless rants on that specific species of butterfly and how butterflies were a symbolism of good luck and, oh so on.

He couldn't stop talking and that was the first impression you had gotten from Spencer. He was profusely embarrassed afterwards, realizing he had probably overstepped a boundary you had yet to set given since— he really didn't know you all that much.

However, you smiled at him and asked him to tell you more. Since that day, butterflies had become your favorite.

And since that day, Spencer felt his heart double in size any time you were near him.

"Spence," You looked back up at him. "This is beautiful."

He smiled awkwardly, and shuffled on his heels, feeling his pulse quicken. How fast can one’s pulse beat? "I didn't want you thinking I had forgotten about a gift I just, didn't really know when to give it to you and I though—"

You watched his every movement intently, noticing the small pool of fog leave his mouth with each breath due to the cold, not even trying to avoid lingering your gaze on his lips.

"No! No—" You waved your hands in front of him frantically, panicking at the thought of him feeling in any way obligated to get you stuff, even if it was your birthday. It felt too indulgent from him— especially from him.

“It's okay..! You didn't have to get me anything, much less something so special,"

"I—" Spencer looked to the side. With the simple confirmation of your little hair tuck, he decided to push his luck, relying completely on Garcia’s analysis. "I wanted to."

You felt heat all over your face. You grabbed the small chain and easily slipped it onto your wrist, looking at it in awe. You once again, unconsciously tucked your hair behind both of your ears. Spencer noticed this but this time, he allowed himself to smile widely like kid on christmas morning.

You smiled down at it. Spencer watched you, eyes pooling with affection. You looked back up at him, realizing the way his gazed lingered on you. There was some form of affection that was quite evident, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think anything of it. Nothing was said, and that made you incredibly nervous.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something but not being able to. The mix of the piercing cold and the invasive anxiety wasn’t doing him any good as his shoulders shook lightly. You took notice, and it made sense since he had chased you down in nothing but a blue button up shirt. Without a single word, you reached for your scarf and unwrapped it from your neck. You’d do okay with the cold. You had enough layers— and you were blushing enough to heat your whole body up.

You pushed yourself onto the tip of your toes, wrapping it around Spencer's neck in order to give him some sort of warmth. Spencer immediately grew dizzy, failing to ignore how the scarf smelled just like you always did— a burnt vanilla mixed with the sweetest notes of sugared petals, warm and inviting. He also failed to ignore how close you suddenly were.

Something in you flipped and with a slap of encouragement, you once again pushed yourself onto your toes and planted a tender kiss onto his cheek, staining it ever so slightly with the soft red chapstick you were wearing.

"Blue looks good on you," You said, hands still playing with the blue scarf that sat comfortably around his neck. You wish you could’ve taken a picture of his face, starstruck and dizzy.

You caught the small red stain on his cheek. You smiled, reaching up and smudging your thumb across the stain. "So does red."

Spencer had nearly felt his knees buck. Your sudden bold moves were causing him to spin. It had always been so hard trying to decipher your intentions and antics, but with you standing so close to him, for the first time, he found everything so clear and evident. Like the last layer of secrecy had been ripped off in the matter of seconds and he was entranced.

That could be part of the reason as to why Spencer couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and placing a firm kiss onto your lips.

You froze momentarily, completely caught off guard, especially since you had always thought what you felt for Spencer was one-sided. But soon enough, you eased and smiled into the kiss. It was sweet and soft, innocent and pure, and it was perfect.

He pulled away harshly, suddenly realizing what he had done. "I’m—"

“No!—“ You were surprised at the lack of stability in your voice. “T-that was fine,”

Oh if one could kick themselves. Fine?!

He cleared his throat, words caught deep into his throat. You blushed profusely, wanting to slap yourself back into reality as you grew more and more fidgety and nervous.

"I—" You both said simultaneously. This was embarrassing.

You shot him a nervous smile as you both proceeded to stumble upon each-others words, neither being able to form a coherent sentance.

"Are— Are you doing anything tomorrow..?" Spencer asked, anxiety clawing at him relentlessly.

"No," You felt anticipation in your chest as you shuffled your grip on your purses strap.

"Would you want to?—” He asked, voice small, as if testing the waters and terrified to how you would reply. “You know, do something..?”

A giddy smile grew onto your face, as your hands reached up, and for a third time, tucked hair behind both ears.

"I’d love to," You said. Spencer felt like he was on cloud nine.

"Great! Uh—" He glanced down, pursing his lips. "Cool..”

You stifled a laugh, as he peered over at you with a smile. "I'll text you,"

"Cool.." You pointed over to your car, realizing that it was getting late. "I'm going to, uh—"

A grin that stretched from ear to ear was plastered across Spencer face as you began walking away, also smiling to yourself giddily. Once your back was turned to him, you squeezed your eyes shut, nearly jumping with joy.

"Happy birthday..!" He shot out. You turned, offering him a wave. Spencer watched until you climbed into your car and left the driveway, with the widest, most stupidly huge smile plastered all over his face.

Of course, when he reappeared at his desk, wrapped in your scarf, cheek stained slightly, and the most dazed look splattered all across his features, Morgan didn't skip the opportunity to tease the hell out of him— again.

#fanfic #fic rec #fiction #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer #spencer x reader #spencer x you #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x oc #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer hastings #fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fluff

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝟱 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦, 𝗠𝗩𝟭 max verstappen x fem! reader (fluff) “. . . using his five senses, these are his favourite things about you.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests | taglist )

Sight

his blue eyes appreciate anything and everything you give him.

He already thinks of you as eye candy or an angel right from a rococo painting.

But what it does for him is seeing you do something you enjoy.

If you’re playing video games or playing with his cats.

He sometimes takes videos or photos secretly so he can watch later or just to open and randomly appreciate you when he’s travelling and misses you.

“They’re so pretty,” You giggled as you watched the dolphin swim around in its tank. Max was glad he was already filming your excitement because one of the mammals noticed you and was playing with you. Sliding right and left, Max knew he was going to set the video as his lock screen later if he doesn't record for over three minutes like he always does.

Touch

One of Max's favorite things ever is hugging you or holding you in any way.

It helps keep him grounded other than the fact that you’re warm and he loves having contact with you.

You’re one of the first people he hugs after a race, an anchor helping him return to the world.

You’re the first thing he reaches for when he wakes up in the morning or before going to sleep at night.

It’s also the reason it’s difficult for him to travel without you because you’re his safe person and his source of comfort.

“All we are missing now is-” You paused, lifting your eyes from the shopping list to the hand, trying to uncross your legs. You didn’t question it, sitting properly so the blond can gently hold your thigh as he wished. Max was driving with you in the passenger seat so he couldn’t really turn and see why you paused. “Schat, I can’t read your handwriting- but we need cat food.” Max nodded in agreement, his thumb gently caressing your thigh as he made a left turn.

Smell

One of Max’’s favourite things is when you put on lotion

It has a certain sweet stubble scent that’s quite calming

he considers it your signature scent. only yours.

he also likes it when he randomly smells you on his things, like his shirts or jackts, msybe his controller or his car. it makes him all giddy

He always tells you ‘that smells nice’ and other times he just holds your hand to take a whiff

“Did you put sunscreen on?” You ask as you make sure you packed everything you need. “I don’t need it.” He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence because you already squeezed a bit and started gently rubbing it on his face. Max rolls his eyes for a second before scrunching his nose. “The sun screen covers your lotion.” He complains disappointed, making you playfully shake your head.

Hearing

max adores hearing you calling him pet names,

whether it's something like love, sweetheart, maxie, baby, darling, sweets,

or something sweet in french; amore, mon core, mon cher,

It gets worse if you speak dutch. Liefje, honing, schat, schatje.

It makes his heart go ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum and his thoughts get all tangled up and mushy

"Maxie, Shatje," You call from somewhere far in the apartment, making the blond turn around instantly, his big blue eyes searching for you and your voice. He hopped out of his chair and abandoned his sim in favour of finding you. “Amour?” “Yea?” “Liefje, can you zip up this dress for me.” Oh you got him right in his excited heart.

Taste

Max is not a huge coffee or juice drinker. All he ever drinks or needs are in his protein shakes or his red bull fridge.

But if you’re making a smoothie or experimenting with coffee and offer him a sip for his opinion or to show him how good it turned out,

he takes it as an honor,

especially if he’s drinking it out of your hand.

“Woo!” is the first thing he hears from the kitchen a few seconds after the loud noise of the blender stops. He peeks his head out of the bathroom still wet from his shower when he hears your excited hops/sprinting to his direction. “Maxie!” You hold up the glass with the pinkish smoothie he can assume is strawberries and something else. “Try?” You offer, and Max doesn't hesitate to lean forward, taking a sip, his eyes lighting up at the taste of bananas and a hint of mandarin. “That’s too good, I’m keeping this,” He teases, gently taking the glass from your hands, continuing to drink the smoothie while you follow the half-naked dutch in protest.

#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾ #﹒your lovers and you ﹒𐙚 #max verstappen #mv1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max x reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 fic #mv33 fic #mv33 x reader #mv33 #mv1 x you #mv1 x reader #mv1 x y/n #mv1 imagine #mv33 imagine #mv33 x you

[feeder86]

Breaking Boundaries

“Oh wow! Look at him! He’s gorgeous!” Sam shouted over the deafteningly loud music of the club.

Craig looked over, seeing yet another short, skinny, well-groomed twenty year old dancing away with a couple of other guys. He had no butt on him whatsoever, with narrow shoulders and thin arms; not Craig’s type in the slightest. Not that he would ever say that to his housemates. As close as they all were, he wasn’t so sure that Sam and Wes were ready to hear that not everyone found these boring little twinks so compelling. And they certainly weren’t ready to know that, at twenty years old, Craig was actually still a virgin.

“He’s pretty,” Craig nodded, pretending to be in agreement. “You should go dance with him.”

“I actually think you should go and ask him yourself,” Sam shot back, prodding Craig in the side to get up. “He keeps looking over this way, right in your direction.”

Craig squirmed slightly. He had noticed the guy checking him out, but had deliberately kept it to himself so that he wasn’t forced to get up and dance with yet another person that Sam and Wes thought was hot. “I’m really not…” he protested, despite being pulled to his feet. 

“Don’t be so boring!” Wes cried, keen to get them all paired off that evening now that one of his regular fuck buddies had just entered the club and was smiling suggestively across the room at him.

“Alright, alright!” Craig relented, seeing that the boys were not going to let this go. “I’ll just get us some more drinks first,” he explained, using the tactic that usually got him out of situations such as these. Everything moved so fast in clubs like these, apart from the line of people waiting to be served.

Craig’s hypothesis was not wrong. He returned from the bar with three shots, seeing that Wes was nowhere to be seen. As was his usual habit, once Wes had found someone to hook up with, he didn’t bother with the simple courtesy of saying goodbye. Likewise, Sam was up on his feet, dancing with someone in the corner. With their table abandoned, it had been acquired by a new group of people who had just come in.

Downing one shot to save carrying them all, Craig made his way over to the dancefloor to check in with Sam. There, he was stopped by security, not allowing him to take the shots onto the dancefloor. And so, Craig stood, like a stereotypical third wheel, watching as Sam’s flirtatious dancing led to dirty grinding and the inevitable, passionate kissing. Then, out of the club the pair of them went; most likely back to the house for a night of fun. Yet again, Craig had been abandoned.

Sighing in frustration, Craig downed the two shots, one after the other. As nice as it was to find two other college students who were freshly out of the closet; moving in with them for his third year had hardly been the dream that he had pictured in his head all summer. He just wasn’t like them in so many ways. His brain was simply wired differently. The guys they chased just didn’t interest him in the slightest, and the endless quests to get laid were exhausting. Sam, who had a thing for sex in the shower, would probably be running all their hot water as soon as he got his new lover home; running up the energy bills for all of them, yet again.

Sometimes Craig felt he was ten years older than he actually was. Why did it need to be so damn noisy in here? He could feel the bass thumping through his body as the three shots and many previous drinks made his head feel light and ever so slightly dizzy. There was that skinny guy, making eyes at him again as he danced only a few feet away; there for the taking if Craig would only step forward and introduce himself as he had promised the boys he would.

But Craig was alone here now. He didn’t need to please Sam or Wes, given that the pair of them were back at home, getting down and dirty. He turned to leave the dancing area, stumbling carelessly straight into what could only be described as a wall of man; his face falling into a large chest and his body bending slightly over a large protrusive stomach; warm and comforting. 

“I’m so sorry!” he shouted, backing up to get a better look at the man he had just bumped into. 

What stood before Craig was the most handsome guy he had ever seen. Tall, stocky and marvellously overweight. He had a broad, handsome face, with a delicious double chin and large cheeks. He wore a tight, fitted and super casual short-sleeved t-shirt that hid nothing of his giant ball gut underneath it. His arms were strong, his lightly tattooed forearms bigger than any Craig had ever seen, and his hands big and plump. Unusual for this venue, the man wore relaxed sweatpants that clung to his thick thighs and groin. And, as every sense flared with arousal, Craig picked up the unmistable musky scent of what he considered to be pure masculinity.

“Careful!” the guy replied with his deep, slightly gruff voice, taking his eyes on a tour of Craig’s body in return, and nodding with approval.

The two of them finally walked by each other, with the big man crossing the dancefloor to stand at the opposite wall and watch all the guys dancing away. He looked so out of place, his shape, his clothing, his sheer size; like a straight guy who had just got off the couch after an afternoon of beers and watching football. In Craig’s head, he could just imagine the comments that would spew from his housemate’s mouths if they saw him: taking aim at his large gut, poor dress sense and overall slob-like appearance. As it was, Craig felt nothing but excitement and curiosity as the loud music battered its way into his head and the sticky heat of the club became almost uncomfortable. Deciding he needed another drink, he snuck off to the bar, returning to see the big guy standing in exactly the same spot.

Like slabs of meat on a tray, the large man was surveying all of the young twenty-somethings on the dancefloor. His eyes flicked up towards Craig, making Craig’s eyes drop to the floor in embarrassment. Then the cycle started all over again. If Sam and Wes had still been there, Criag would never have allowed himself to indulge in the fascination he felt towards this man as he continued to watch from afar. The next time their eyes met, Craig forced himself to hold it for at least a short while, feeling a buzz of pure adrenaline for each microsecond that he managed to keep holding on. Then the ritual started all over again; eyes looking across the dancefloor until they met once more. This time, Craig was emboldened, holding the guy’s gaze and feeling his arousal growing for each second that he did so. One… two… three seconds. It was all Craig could manage as his hardness awoke and stretched itself in his groin. However, now Craig could tell that the guy was still staring at him, even as his own eyes tried to avoid looking in his direction. The man’s gaze was fixed, locking onto him like prey. Then, like a giant striding across the dancefloor, Craig saw the big man heading straight for him.

“Like what you see?” the big man grinned, suddenly standing in front of Craig and seeming larger than ever.

Craig’s heart was beating too fast. Without the biggest of voices, he always struggled to make himself heard in the deafening club. What would he even say if he could? Instead, he looked around, seeing that no one else was watching them, and then allowed his head to nod very gently.

The big man stepped closer, taking Craig’s drink and putting it gently on the side. Then he came in towards him with large hands that cupped Craig’s face. Their lips touched and tongues slid into action. Craig felt himself being pushed up against the wall, with the monstrous guy seemingly inflating his giant stomach out as large as it would go to keep Craig pinned to the wall. It was, without a single doubt, the most erotic moment of Craig’s life.

Craig knew that he would never have felt comfortable getting to know a guy so big and large in the club had Wes and Sam still been there. Rick was everything he had ever secretly wanted, as the pair of them shouted down each other’s ears, trying to make conversation in the deafeningly loud club. There wasn’t long left of the evening and both of them knew they didn’t want their time together to end, heading straight back to Craig’s place. Just as Craig had anticipated, the bathroom was soaking from Sam’s long, horny shower session and moans of pleasure were still sounding from both his housemates’ rooms. 

Rick lay back on Craig’s bed, laughing at how small it was. Not being quite a full double bed, the big man absolutely dwarfed it in whatever direction he tried to lay. The sight gave Craig pure joy and he began undressing himself for the large man, letting him see exactly how aroused he was by him. Rick took the lead as it came time to get dirty, which Craig was more than grateful for. For the first time ever, he was having his butt lubricated up, ready to be taken, lying on his side as Rick began; simultaneously taking Craig’s erection into his large hand and gently bringing them both to a climax at exactly the same time. For his first experience of sex, Craig could not have wished for anything better.

A few hours later, the pair of them woke up together; Rick’s large hands cupping Craig’s small glutes and pulling him into him. They made out and spoke at length about how much they had enjoyed themselves the previous evening, settling back into another round of making each other climax.

“Do you want to come with me to get some breakfast?” Rick asked; his giant stomach rumbling as he pulled his hastily discarded underwear back on.

“I don’t think we have much in,” Craig replied.

“No. Not here,” Rick chuckled. “Let me take you out for some breakfast.”

Craig felt a little guilty at the idea of Rick paying to take him out. He’d always liked to pay his own way, never accepting drinks from guys who tried to flirt with him in bars. He attempted to explain this to Rick, but was quickly put at ease. Earlier that morning, Rick had spoken about how he worked in highway maintenance; committing to long shifts at sometimes very unsociable hours, in return for a pleasing salary. “I want to treat you,” he smiled. “I had a great time last night. Won’t you let me say thank you?”

Twenty minutes later, Craig found himself in a very greasy looking cafe that Rick seemed to know very well. They sat at a table and a server came straight over, pouring coffee for the pair of them.

“Two Mega Breakfasts please, Rachel,” Rick stated, as Craig hesitantly went to pick up the sticky-looking laminated menu.

“A Mega Breakfast?” Craig asked after she left. “That sounds pretty daunting.”

Rick chuckled. “You’ll manage it. You’re a college boy. You need feeding up. Plus, anything you can’t eat, I’ll finish for you,” he smiled greedily.

The breakfast meal, once it arrived, was every bit as massive as Craig had pictured in his head. Rick’s eyes had lit up, his mouth salivating, and he began consuming it, stacking sausages and egg onto one of the several rounds of toast; devouring it with the expertise of a man who had taken it on many times before. 

“That’s not a bad effort, for a first attempt,” Rick nodded twenty minutes later, seeing that Craig had politely cleared at least half of the giant meal away. “You’ll know what to expect next time.”

Craig rubbed his achingly full stomach. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting another piece of bacon or fried toast again, let alone coming here for a giant breakfast in the future. He watched with relief as Rick switched their plates around and the big man began dutifully clearing the rest of Craig’s meal away. What was it about a big man gorging himself that was so damn sexy to watch?

“I would quite like to do this again sometime,” Rick smiled, kissing Craig goodbye as they parked up outside his house once more. “Maybe you could let me take you out for something to eat more often?”

Craig nodded, excited by the idea of dating Rick. He accepted another kiss and felt Rick’s hand slip from cupping his face, down towards his small, tightly packed stomach. Then, tearing himself away, up Craig got; crossing the street and waving one last time before heading inside.

“Who the fuck was that?” Wes asked as soon as Craig was infront of him. He shouted towards Sam in the kitchen. “I just caught Craig making out with some fat guy in a car across the street,” he explained.

“A fat guy?” Sam asked, immediately disgusted by the idea. “Was that who I heard pouding around in the bathroom this morning? Did you hook up with a fatty?”

“I only saw him inside his truck, but the guy looked pretty massive to me,” Wes continued. “He looked like he had tits and a massive double chin!”

“That’s gross!” Sam winced. “What the hell were you doing with that?”

“His name’s Rick,” Craig shot back, emboldened by the amazing time he had had with a guy who epitomised his type. “We’re going to be dating.”

“Why?” Wes asked. “Why would you settle for a fat guy? You’re hot. You could have someone much better. If we weren’t housemates, I’d probably have fucked you myself by now.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “Same,” he mumbled, looking Craig up and down.

Craig huffed in irritation and walked away. Was that the boys’ idea of a compliment? He couldn’t think of anything worse than dating someone who was anything like either of them. There was only one person who put butterflies in his stomach, and Craig wasn’t about to be talked out of dating him.

“You’ve got to admit, those were the best doughnuts you’ve ever had, right?” Rick grinned as the pair of them headed back to his truck one evening.

“They tasted exactly like the ones we had in the place we went to last time,” Craig chuckled as he slipped inside the vehicle.

“No!” Rick laughed in disbelief that his boyfriend could say such a thing. “Those doughnuts are nothing like that place! You need educating about what real tasty food is like.”

Craig nodded, feeling his tight stomach. All their dates seemed to revolve around Rick demonstrating his vast knowledge of food places around the city; a world that Craig, with his limited income and lack of transport, had no means of exploring until now.

“Will Dumb and Dumber be there when we get back to your place?” Rick asked, firing the engine into life and turning out of the parking lot.

“I think so,” Craig nodded, knowing exactly how Rick felt about Wes and Sam. “I’m sure they will be a bit more pleasant with you today. They were both just a little stressed about their assignments and stuff last time,” he lied.

Rick chuckled in a way that suggested he did not believe the excuse in the slightest. “It’s alright. I know they don’t think I’m good enough for you because I’m fat. I’m fine with that.”

Craig looked across at his boyfriend; confusion etched upon his face. “How can you be okay with that?” he asked.

“Because, guys like Wes and Sam, they don’t stay slim forever. You only have to look at how much they drink and the foods they eat to know they won’t be twinks for much longer.”

“Really?” Craig asked, feeling surprisingly fascinated by Rick’s observations. “How can you be so sure?”

“Trust me,” he smirked. “I’m sure! Give it another few months and you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Do you have some sort of sixth sense?” Craig joked.

Rick laughed. “I wish!” he nodded. “I mean, it’s not just those two. Your stomach is going to start pushing out into a little tummy soon. But that’s going to be all my fault… because I’m going to spoil you and pamper you so much!” he teased, rubbing Craig’s thigh as he drove.

Craig laughed, not knowing how serious his boyfriend was actually being. But, even so, Rick did seem oddly determined that they spend a lot of their time enjoying good food together. Perhaps Rick really wouldn’t mind if he gained a few pounds…

Over the next few weeks, Craig started to realise that what he found so unrelentingly attractive about Rick, was his impressive confidence in his own body. Even though he knew that Sam and Wes disapproved of Craig dating such a fat guy, Rick never failed to pull off his shirt whenever he arrived at the house; seeming to revel in their scorn. When he stayed over, he never got dressed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, becoming Wes and Sam’s biggest complaint to date. That was, until Rick had left one weekend, deliberately planting a pair of his enormous underwear in the corner of the bathroom, like he had simply forgotten them. Wes had come in, holding them out in front of him with a large pair of barbecuing tongues that had seemed to have appeared from nowhere, and holding his nose as he dropped them in Craig’s room whilst giving him a thorough lecture about how his gross boyfriend was staying over far too much. 

Wes wasn’t wrong; Rick was there at least four nights every week. He was comfortable in their house. However, although he had tried several times, Rick couldn’t really fit into their shower, meaning that there were a few nights when he and Craig would sleep over at Rick’s place instead, where the big man lived with his older cousin, Bob, in the suburbs.

Bob was much the same as Rick himself: large and round, with the same laid-back attitude to his body. It was obvious from the layout of the house that the pair of them cared little about the space being anything more than functional. Several take-out menus adorned the refrigerator door and not a single piece of fruit or vegetables lay inside. It was clear how much Rick looked up to his older cousin; rarely talking about his actual, overly-educated parents, except to say that they fell out some years ago when he refused to go to college. Bob had been the first black sheep in their family, and in moving in with him, Rick had become the second.

“Bob just gets me in a way that no one else in my family ever has. He got me my job when I left school and we’ve never had an argument, even after seven years of me staying here,” Rick explained as he introduced Craig to him for the first time. 

It was clear to Craig that he was meeting someone very special to his boyfriend. The fact that Rick’s relationships with the rest of his family were so strained only mirrored Craig’s feelings about his own family. The pair of them could bond over their tales of uptight mothers and absent, but expectant fathers. It all felt so much easier when someone else understood these situations from a similar perspective.

However, with both Rick and his cousin, Bob, on the same shift pattern, it was rare that Craig stayed over with them. Rick always made the excuse that Bob was entertaining a variety of lady friends back at their place; a fact that would probably surprise many people, looking at his monstrous size.

“Smells good!” Rick sang as he arrived one Friday evening and smelt the aroma of Wes and Sam’s take out pizzas. “Are these from the place I told you about?” he asked them, pretending that they were all friends. “It’s so much cheaper than anywhere else. It just doesn’t keep so well the next day,” he explained, seeing that the boys were quitting with half a pizza remaining. “I’d try and finish that if you can. It won’t be any good once you need to reheat it,” he advised, winking at Craig and letting him know that he was only playing with them. It was something he had been doing for weeks now; introducing them both to beers and letting them try large amounts of the take-outs he had bought for himself when he stayed over. Despite not liking him, the boys had never failed to accept his generosity, just as Rick had secretly wanted. 

This charade came as a relief to Craig. He’d felt his own pants starting to pinch a little more than usual in the last couple of weeks. Perhaps his little weight gain didn’t necessarily have to cause a relationship drama, like it would with most couples. Maybe people could just get used to seeing him in his sweatpants a little more whilst he sorted this out. Rick wasn’t exactly precious about his own weight and, indeed, he seemed to find the idea of Wes and Sam putting on a few pounds to be highly amusing.

The weeks rolled by. Craig sat himself down and pulled out his laptop. There were plenty of places for students to study on the college campus, but Craig had come to prefer this coffee house for its relative peace and quiet. He had been engrossed in his reading, not realising that he was being observed from a distance, until a tall, slightly pot-bellied man, a little older than him, suddenly came and stood in front of him.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” the man explained, taking the spare seat on Craig's table. “I just recognised you from your boyfriend’s socials and I thought…” He seemed to sigh at this point, not appearing to know why he needed to speak to him, or how to explain exactly what it was he was trying to say. “It’s about Rick. I’m not sure you really know who he really is.”

Craig looked across at the guy with suspicion. What had he been doing, lurking on Rick’s social media and taking the time to commit Craig’s face to his memory? His stalker senses were spiking.

“I’m Geoff,” the guy explained, reaching his hand out to shake. “I’m certain that Rick has definitely not spoken to you about me.”

Craig shook his head, not committing to opening his mouth and engaging in a conversation he wasn’t sure he wanted to have.

“I was in high school with him. In fact, I was his boyfriend for quite some time as well,” Geoff continued. “We broke up about four years ago.”

“Then what are you doing still looking up his socials?” Craig asked, allowing a little of his suspicion and irritation to filter through his voice.

“I just didn’t want anyone else to go through what I went through with him,” Geoff replied. “Let me ask you, has Rick ever spoken to you about his high school days?”

“Not really,” Craig huffed, wondering what sort of relevance Rick’s time in high school would have on anything these days.

Geoff was busily finding a picture on his cell phone. “I bet he never told you that he used to look like this…” he mumbled, turning the screen around so that Craig could see. The face of the handsome eighteen year old in the picture was so familiar to him, but the body below it was so far beyond what Craig had anticipated. A shirtless, chiselled and muscular Rick smiled away from the cell phone. Six-packed and lean, Rick looked the epitome of athleticism and strength.

“That’s not real,” Craig shot back.

“I assure you, it is,” Geoff nodded, swiping through more and more pictures: Rick playing football, partying and posing with a much younger and slimmer Geoff, back when they were dating. “I’m guessing he just told you he’d always been a fat guy?” 

Craig considered the question. He didn’t think Rick had said much about anything from his past; certainly not high school. And, besides, what would it even matter?

“This might shock you, but… Rick atually gained all the weight on purpose,” Geoff stated frankly. “I’m guessing you’ve met his cousin, Bob, as well? He did the same thing: a high school jock, but fattened himself huge. I was dating Rick at the time. He was fascinated by it, watching Bob stacking on the weight. He said that the pair of them understood each other in a way that no one else did.”

Craig nodded. Rick had said pretty much the same thing to him several times before.

“So when Rick left high school and moved in with Bob, he started to do exactly the same thing. I was away at college at the time and came back to find my boyfriend had gained fifty pounds in three months. Fifty pounds!” he boomed in exasperation. “I thought he was depressed. I thought something was really wrong. Rick didn’t tell me about all of the deliberate overeating he was doing; the special weight-gain shakes he and Bob were making for each other at night; spurring themselves on,” he grumbled, shaking his head in disapproval. “Bob was dating a girl called Helen back then as well. She lived not far away, so she was with them more. Now, she could tell you some stories!” Geoff added gravely.

“What do you mean?” Craig asked, feeling thoroughly invested in the story now.

“She was devoted to Bob, even after he started getting so fat. She said that she could tell that Bob was pushing his bad eating habits onto her. She was putting on weight; a lot of it; very quickly.”

Craig sat back, unimpressed. “People always make excuses when they gain weight. They want to find someone to blame.”

Geoff nodded in complete agreement. “I said the same thing. I even told her as much when she broke up with Bob. But after I dropped out of college and moved back here, I noticed that Rick was doing the same thing to me. He’d obviously been watching how Bob had done it to Helen and decided to have a go himself. He took me out for food constantly, telling me that he loved spoiling and pampering me. He said that college had made me skinny, and that I needed feeding up.”

Craig listened, feeling an odd sense of familiarity about the whole thing. “What happened to you?” he asked.

Geoff leaned back and showed his stomach to answer that question. “I put on a lot of weight. Gradual at first, but then it seemed to spiral. Rick was so sweet, and I thought, by not making a big deal about it, my weight struggle might help to make Rick feel less insecure, as he was starting to get quite obese at that point. I still loved him. I didn’t realise that his weight gain was on purpose, nor that mine was being orchestrated.”

Despite everything, Craig felt a pang of jealousy as Geoff talked about his ex as if he knew him so well; a secret, shared history that he himself could never be a part of.

“I got to almost 270lbs before I finally left him. It’s been four years since we broke up and I’m still over two hundred pounds now. It’s so hard to get it off once you gain weight,” he complained, shaking his head.

Craig didn’t know what to say. The conversation had suddenly paused at a very awkward spot.

“The reason I’m telling you all this is because I can tell that Rick is planning on doing the same thing to you. The pictures I see of you two together. It’s like history repeating itself all over again. This is all probably some kinky little fantasy in Rick’s head, fattening up some little chubby-chasing college boy.”

Craig’s teeth ground together as Geoff referred to him as a ‘chubby-chaser’, setting his mind against the guy altogether. Wes and Sam had mocked him for it endlessly since he had started dating Rick. So what if he was a chubby-chaser? Geoff probably looked way better with all the extra fat on him anyway. Who could blame Rick if he had fattened him up a bit? 

“Well, thanks for the info,” he snapped impatiently. “But I think I can look after myself, thank you very much.”

“Don’t you want to know more?” Geoff asked, surprised that he was being turned away. “I can give you a contact number for Helen? She can tell you about her experience as well.”

Craig refused and turned his attention back to his assignment until a bewildered Geoff finally got the message and walked away. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he picked it up to read the message that had popped up on the screen. ‘I’m finishing early this evening,’ Rick explained. ‘Let me take you out to that Italian place tonight. We can get ice cream and doughnuts afterwards…. I can’t wait to spoil you rotten!’

“Have you noticed Wes getting a little softer recently?” Rick asked a couple of weeks later. “His clothes are always so fitted, there’s no hiding the little lovehandles he seems to have acquired.”

Craig nodded. Of course he had noticed. The same thing had started to happen to Sam as well, with his tight little butt beginning to put on more mass and a flush of extra coating filling out his normally slender face. “It’s your fault, getting them both onto those cheap beers and take-outs.”

Rick chuckled to himself. “Guilty,” he nodded playfully. It was no secret that Rick was not a fan of either of the boys, so he certainly wasn’t about to show any remorse at the fact that the pair of them were now struggling with maintaining their weight.

Craig laughed, despite the guilt that he felt at Wes and Sam’s newest predicament. He had had no idea that inviting Rick into their house would have such an impact on all their lives. The truth was that no matter how surprising the extra pounds looked on Wes and Sam, it was nothing in comparison to what he was feeling himself. His previously slow gain of 15lbs had begun to spike quite sharply, doubling in the last three weeks. He had felt it in his stomach and butt, but also in his face, as fat began to disribute itself under his chin in much the same way as it was with Sam

“Watch this,” Rick whispered to Craig, sitting back with a clearly mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sam… Wes!” he called out loudly, not getting up from his chair.

The two boys appeared from around the corner, each carrying a can of Rick’s beer that he had brought over; having helped themselves, just as Rick always insisted they do.

“I got paid today, so I’m taking Craig out for some doughnuts to celebrate. You boys want to tag along?” he asked. “My treat.”

Of course Wes and Sam took him up on the offer, smirking at each other at yet another opportunity to take advantage of Rick’s generous nature. Then Craig looked across at his boyfriend who appeared to be even more pleased with himself. A great, wicked plan was unfolding right before his very eyes; yet Craig had never felt more drawn to him.

By the following weekend, Craig had packed on a further 5lbs, gazing into the bathroom mirror as Rick slept on in his bedroom. He couldn’t get over how much his body was altering in such a short space of time. His chest had become softer in a matter of weeks and his flat stomach had rounded out, appearing fleshy underneath the skin. Even in his arms, which had always been naturally quite toned, Craig began to feel softer and less conditioned. But as he spun himself around, Craig awkwardly tried to get a look at his butt, which had been causing him the most clothing problems with anything other than the great array of sweatpants Rick had been buying in for him; arriving with these as if they were a token of his love, and professing to have chosen them for him based upon their interesting colours or style. Those previously tight and petitie glutes of his were taking on a whole new swollen shape. Craig found that he could actually grab almost the entire cheek in his hand and bounce it in a way that he never imagined before; the great soft mass of it going up and down feeling utterly bizarre.

Craig turned back again, looking down and seeing something else that had been worrying him lately. All the blood in his body had seemed to rush into his groin as he surveyed his physique in the mirror. He wondered why he wasn’t like Geoff, feeling completely outraged by the subtle ways Rick was manipulating him to overeat like he had been doing. But then he looked again at his body: the doughy stomach and fleshed out nipples; all those features that spoke of chubiness and excess weight; all the things that he admired so much in others and found so irresistably attractive. Even Wes and Sam were looking more appealing of late. Something was happening to him in this relationship, and Craig started to realise that, rather than being furious, he was actually aroused in a way that he never would have predicted.

“Whose idea was it to go on a double date?” Craig asked a few weeks later, as he slipped on the brand new shirt that Rick had bought for him that afternoon.

“Bob’s,” Rick explained. “He’s super into this new girl. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this smitten.”

“And what do you think about her?” Craig asked, having realised that Rick was actually a surprisingly good judge of character.

“She’s nice,” Rick nodded. “Quite quiet, like you. But she shares some of my cousin’s interests, which I know he is really enjoying at the moment.”

“What sort of interests?” Craig shot back.

Rick’s cool composure briefly slipped and he looked suddenly caught out by the question. It was clear that he had not expected Craig to seek clarification. “Oh, um… you know. They both like cooking and stuff…” he mumbled, changing the subject almost immediately.

Craig and Rick arrived at the buffet place first, sitting themselves down at the table and politely sipping their drinks, despite the fact that the food smelt so good. About ten minutes later, an obviously very much loved-up couple strolled into the restaurant, giggling from jokes in their own private love laguage. Dark haired, overweight and wearing a dress that was far too small, Bob’s date still looked far too slim to be with him and his giant ball-like gut. They sat down after Bob had courteously pulled out a chair for her, giving her chubby butt one final pat before it disappeared underneath her oversized body.

The conversation didn’t exactly flow, but it was hardly awkward either. The giggly mood that Bob and his date had arrived in, continued as they began their first couple of rounds from the buffet. It was obvious that the pair of them only had eyes for each other and, although they did ask the occasional question of Rick or Craig, it was clear that they weren’t really listening. Bob’s hand kept sliding under the table and Craig wondered, more than once, whether the man was rubbing or patting his date’s belly in a way that would suggest she knew that he liked to feed up his women.

“Get those down you,” Bob smirked, handing over a plate of chicken wings to his younger cousin some time later. Craig had sensed a quiet competition between them both as they had gorged themselves; with Bob remaining a smug plate in the lead the whole time.

Rick nodded, never one to turn down a challenge.

“I’m stuffed!” Bob’s date declared, dropping her fork. “I couldn’t eat another bite!”

Bob smiled at her. “That’s okay, babe. You did very well. You managed five and a half plates of food,” he grinned, looking over at his cousin as he said it; as if taking another victory.

“How many plates have I had?” Craig asked Rick, suddenly suspecting that a secondary, simultaneous competition was taking place.

“Four,” Rick replied quietly, beginning to suck on his chicken wings.

So this was a competition, Craig realised. Not only had Bob eaten more than Rick, but his girlfriend had been greedier too. The reason for the whole double date now became very clear.

Craig got himself up without a word. He could sense the eyes of the others on the table as he collected a fresh plate and began filling it up, mounding it as high as he could.

“You’re still hungry, babe?” Rick asked with delight as Craig got back to the table,

Craig simply nodded and chewed. “Do you think we could go to that cheesecake place afterwards as well?” he asked, knowing that Bob was listening in.

“Yeah, babe. Of course we can,” Rick beamed, rubbing Craig’s thigh in approval. “You can have whatever you want.”

Hearing only a faint sigh from Bob’s direction, Craig knew that he had at least evened the score between the two cousins. Now he just needed to focus on getting all the food down.

It had been some time since the three housemates, Craig, Sam and Wes, had been out to the gay clubs. But with Rick set to make a small fortune working nights over the weekend, Craig finally had an evening with nothing to do. He put on his new shirt and pants, heading out to the clubs carrying an extra forty pounds than the last time he was out. But despite his remarkable weight increase, it wasn’t his size people were looking at. Clearly still in denial about their gains, Wes and Sam were still trying to squeeze themselves into the same twink-like outfits that had worked for them in the past. But despite how well these clothes continued to fit the boys in the shoulders and arms, the cheap material clung unflatteringly to their bloated middles and lovehandles, emphasising them even more than Craig’s own. It was almost embarrassing; especially when Wes got up to dance and gave the unsuspecting crowds an eyefull of his ass crack.

“He’s quite cute, I suppose,” Sam muttered as the end of the evening approached and he had still had no succes in catching anyone’s attention.

“His friend is pretty hot as well,” Wes nodded in agreement.

“Go talk to them,” Craig smiled encouragingly, trying not to show his amusement at their choices. The two guys they were checking out were like him: chubby and soft; not at all the sort of guys the two horny boys would have resorted to only a few months earlier. Yet, there they were only half an hour later, leading them back home. Beggars, it seemed, couldn’t be choosers.

“Who’s the little chub with Wes?” Rick asked the following weekend, whispering as the housemate arrived home with company.

“His new boyfriend…” Craig grinned.

Rick laughed in surprise. “Wes has a boyfriend? I thought he was all about keeping things casual?”

Craig shrugged. “He says they’re perfect for each other. Sam’s out on an actual, proper date as well. I guess they’re both growing up.”

“More like ‘growing out,’” Rick laughed mockingly. “There’s no way the old Wes would have given a fat guy like that a chance.”

“I guess…” Craig nodded slowly. They both knew that Wes and Sam’s gains were mostly down to his meddling. Now Rick looked positively delighted with himself.

“Bob and I were talking,” Rick began next, dropping his massive body down onto the sofa and slipping his arm over his chubby lover’s shoulders. “Maybe you could save a little money next year by moving in with us.”

Craig snorted on his beer. An invitation to move in with Rick had been the last thing he had expected.

“It would be so much fun,” Rick continued, rubbing his chubby hands up and down Craig’s doughy torso. “Bob is totally up for the idea. Just imagine it, I’d be able to spoil and pamper you every single day…”

“But we’ve only been dating eight months,” Craig mumbled.

Rick’s hands were lost in the massaging of Craig’s body: his soft stomach and sensitive nipples. “I know. But I think you’re ready,” he whispered seductively.

Craig pondered his boyfriend’s odd choice of phrasing. He sensed that everything Rick had done up until now had been some sort of preamble for this next stage. Quietly fattening him up to 200lbs was nothing in comparison to what he had done to Geoff. Now it seemed, Rick’s attention was thoroughly locked on taking him a lot further.

“You’d love living with me, wouldn’t you?” Rick asked teasingly; beginning to stroke the hardness that he had discovered swelling in Craig’s pants,  even though they were both still in the shared living space.

A moan escaped Craig’s lips as his eyes rolled back into his head. “We can’t do this here,” he whispered, looking over to the door and worrying that Wes could walk in any second.

“Well then, I guess you should hurry up and tell me you’ll move in with me,” Rick teased, speeding up his stimulation of Craig, rather than stopping.

Craig’s whole body shuddered and he knew he could probably climax with rapid speed if Rick just kept doing what he was doing. Sometimes Rick could get him to orgasm faster than seemed natural for most guys.

“I really want to. But…” Craigh sighed, trying to make his brain think of how to phrase his concerns.

“You don’t want to be spoiled and pampered by me every day?” Rick asked, whispering now as Wes and his new boyfriend’s voices seemed close to the door.

“That’s exactly what I’m scared of!” Craig shot back, pulling his sweatpants back just in time as Wes entered.

“We’re just heading out for some food,” Wes explained, after introducing his overweight boyfriend to Rick.

“Take these,” Rick insisted, pulling out some coupons for the pizza place a couple of blocks away. “That’ll save you some cash and you can get a few beers while you’re out,” he smiled cunningly. “In fact,” he grinned, looking down at a still flustered Craig, and pulling out a twenty from his wallet, “why don’t you boys make sure you stay out for a couple of hours and give us some space?”

Wes never had a problem with accepting anything from Rick; nodding in agreement and shuffling out of the house after his chubby new lover.

“Cute couple,” Rick chuckled as the door finally closed behind them both. “Now,” he grinned, pulling off his shirt and releasing his giant belly. “We have the whole house to ourselves. Where I…” he rambled, getting down onto his knees and lifting Craig’s shirt off him as he sat on the couch still. “...can spend some time trying to convince you that moving in with me will be a great idea.”

Craig had to wriggle on the couch as Rick pulled down his sweatpants and underwear, until he was entirely butt naked; his hardness getting sucked on with perfection by his giant lover.

“You are so hard tonight. I can feel your dick pulsing in my mouth,” Rick chuckled, taking a quick break.

“Well, you’ve got great skills,” Craig smiled back.

“You’re not wrong. If you want a decent blow job, you should always ask a greedy guy. Someone who knows how to push a lot into his mouth,” he teased seductively, knowing that it was always that sort of confidence in his size that never failed to get Craig going.

“What about me?” Craig asked. “Do I give good blow jobs?”

“Would you like to be good at it?” Rick smirked wickedly, rubbing Craig’s doughy pot belly.

“Yes,” Craig nodded with submission.

“I’ll train you up then,” Rick nodded slowly. “When you move in with me, I’ll teach you exactly what it means to have a big, greedy mouth,” he smirked, actually pinching at Craig’s belly fat and jiggling it gently. “Would you like that?”

“Yes!” Craig shot back, his eyes wide as he actually felt an orgasm building simply from having his fat handled.

“Are you going to move in with me then? And let me train you?” Rick teased, shaking Craig’s belly fat even more.

“Yes!” Craig whimpered through gritted teeth as his erection actually erupted there and then, streaming down the shaft in great waves and pooling between his thighs. What had he just signed up for?

Sam and Wes were annoyed when Craig told them he wouldn’t be taking the room for his final year in college. They had little comprehension of how merciful he was actually being, freeing them from the meddlesome grasp of Rick who would no longer be able to torment them, nor their waistlines.

The summer arrived and Craig headed home to spend a couple of months with his family. He braced himself for the looks and comments he would get about his weight gain, but on the whole, it was fairly muted. He hadn’t had a huge circle of friends in high school, and those he did have were on the larger side anyway. His mother was the only one who caused a fuss, talking about how out of shape he looked and how out of breath he seemed once he had to resume his old chore of taking the trash out for her. As he showed her pictures of his boyfriend, Rick, she visibly bristled at his size, not holding back her thoughts on who was to blame for Craig’s additional pounds; especially when she hit the bottle. 

Away from Rick, the weight didn’t feel quite as erotic as it had before. He felt every bit as trapped as he had been back in high school, trying to manage his mother’s silent issues with alcohol; leaning on Rick for support and to take his mind off things whenever he called each evening. 

Slipping back into his old diet and lifestyle at home, Craig found the weight to be dropping off him fairly swiftly. Although he knew this would probably disappoint Rick when he next saw him, for Craig, it was a welcome relief. In allowing himself to climax at having his fat jiggled, he felt like he had reliquished a little more of his true desires than he had bargained for. By losing weight and getting back to his old habits, Craig would be able to stand his ground and maintain a physique that more resembled his appearance at the start of his relationship with Rick. That, more than anything else, would help to prove that he wasn’t really getting off on becoming so out of shape.

“Well, look who it is!” Rick smiled, grabbing both of the heavy bags Craig was carrying out of the airport and putting them down on the floor. Although he had ended his time at home on a very sour note with his mother, an immediate surge of passion swelled through Craig at seeing the large man again. Was Rick’s stomach even rounder than it had been before? It certainly looked bigger, with his belly peeking out of the bottom of his undersized t-shirt. “Someone’s pleased to see me,” the big man teased, seeing a bulge forming in Craig’s pants after their embrace.

Craig looked down, embarrassed, but Rick simply chuckled and started to lead the way out. Craig was cursing his body. He’d spent all summer psyching himself up for taking back some control in this relationship and already his hardness was letting him down. In fact, it was getting worse; flooding with blood more and more as he followed behind the massive glutes of his boyfriend; now that he carried the two massive bags in each hand, Rick actually looked wider than the back end of a car..

After throwing the bags into the back of his truck, Craig felt the entire vehicle rock as Rick climbed inside; yet another little detail about dating such a big man that Craig loved, and had almost entirely fogotten during his time at home. Rick looked around the parking lot, seeing that it was fairly clear. Then he turned his attention to the tent that was pushing up the material in Craig’s pants and slid his hand over the top of it. “Summer’s over,” he whispered seductively into Craig’s ear. “You’re all mine now!”

Even as the pair of them raced upstairs upon immediately getting home, Rick didn’t mention Craig’s thirty pound weight loss. The moment seemed to be entirely consumed by Rick’s new size as he balanced his large stomach on Craig’s back and set to work. 

“What’s that doing in here?” Craig asked afterwards as they lay together in bed.

“It’s our new refrigerator,” Rick smiled. “It’ll save us having to go downstairs for snacks all the while.”

Craig mumbled in disapproval. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep all that well with the humming nose.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Rick laughed, rolling over to cuddle his lover better and making the entire bed rock and squeal. “You’re going to be getting used to a lot of new things this year…”

Living with Rick was a complete culture shift after the summer. His fourth and final year in college was more intense than any of the years that had come before it. Rick’s place was further away from campus, and so Craig now took the bus pretty much everywhere he had to go. Bob and Rick lived on take-outs and turned their noses up whenever Craig tried to make something wholesome and homemade; like a couple of five year olds refusing to even try a vegetable of any kind. 

To Craig’s surprise, he soon learned that Bob and Rick hired an older lady, called Pam, to come in and take care of the place for them.

“Such dirty boys, these two,” she gumbled to Craig as he tried to work at the kitchen counter on an assignment. It was clear that she had deep affection for both Rick and Bob; however, that didn’t mean they were above her criticisms. She busily cleaned out take-out containers and put them away for recylcing. “Some days I come in here and want to cry. I’m amazed they don’t have rats.”

Craig nodded awkwardly in agreement. Maybe if the pair of them ever left even the slightest crumb from all the food they consumed, rats and mice could indeed have become a problem for them.

“And Rick was such a handsome boy when he moved in,” Pam went on, pulling a pair of enormous underwear from the washing machine; the elastic in them obviously coming to the end of its life. “It’s such a shame!”

At this, Craig’s interest was caught. “You’ve known the boys that long?” he asked. In all the time he had been dating Rick, Pam was only the second person he had ever come across who had spoken about the Rick’s former physique.

“Oh, yes! I met him when he first moved in here with his cousin,” she began. “There had been problems at home. He hadn’t wanted to go to college, despite being so clever. Then he didn’t want to play sports, despite being so gifted. They all thought Bob was a bad influence, which I can’t say I disagree with,” she nodded fairly. “As soon as Rick moved in he started piling on the weight, just like his cousin had a couple of years earlier. I remember looking at him one day and noticing this little paunch had popped out on him. His face got chubby. Then his whole body just bloated and got bigger and bigger.”

Craig wrigged awkwardly in his seat, feeling an odd arousal as he imagined Rick undergoing such a transformation. “He had another boyfriend back then, didn’t he?” Craig asked, wondering just how clued up Pam really was on the goings on in this house.

She thought for a moment. “Yes. Now, what was his name?” she pondered, before Geoff’s name came to her again. “He was another lovely boy.”

“Was he a big guy as well?” Craig questioned. 

Pam thought back. “Yes,” she nodded, looking away slightly as she tried to recall. “I remember him having quite the big stomach on him. But only after he moved in here with the boys.”

“Geoff moved in with them?” Rick asked next, surprised that this had been the case.

“For quite a few months,” she nodded. “Rick used to spoil him rotten!” she smiled.

“He does the same with me,” Craig blushed. He’d only been living there for a couple of weeks and already he could feel his stomach reinflating. He knew that Ben and Rick had a pair of scales somewhere, but they weren’t placed anywhere obvious so that he could have free access to them and check his suspicions.

“Well, you just be careful,” Pam smiled at him. “I love Bob and RIck dearly, but I know they’re no angels either. I’ve watched quite a few of Bob’s girlfriends get pretty big over the years.”

“And you think that will happen to me?” Craig shot back, feeling a great spike of arousal at the thought. After all, he was still quite far from his starting weight, back when he met Rick for the first time.

Pam glanced down towards Craig’s slight double chin. “You just be careful,” she repeated again in a motherly fashion; perhaps holding back her true thoughts of what was really about to happen next.

Portion sizes became Craig’s greatest enemy over the following weeks. After a day of manual work, the boys filled their plates to astronomical levels, and they did the same for Craig; whether he’d asked for it or not. At first, he left plenty of it on his plate for Rick to finish off. But, these days, Rick was starting to nag him for wasting food. “Just get the fries down, at least,” he’d sigh, seeing the large mountain that remained on the plate. Then: “You can’t leave all that meat,” he’d grumble.

Craig had hoped that Rick and Bob would start to put less on his plate, but they never did. He’d sometimes catch their knowing looks; smirking as they piled the food up more and more. With Bob back to being single, Craig suddenly felt that he had become the boys’ sole focus of their entertainment.

By the time Thanksgiving came around, Craig was right back where he had started, with his stomach bouncing back to the size it had been at the end of the summer semester. However, the regained weight had deposited differently on his body now that he had lost the weight and put it back on. His butt and thighs were softer and larger this time, his nipples more sensitive. His facial cheeks had blown up more, and Craig had decided to keep his spreading double chin concealed underneath a camouflage of short and very necessary facial hair.

“Oh, I love this time of year!” Bob sighed, plopping himself into his big armchair by the TV after a ginormous Thanksgiving meal and beginning to snack on the leftover buffet food from the evening before. “Nothing but endless food now, until the beginning of January!” he beamed, tapping his large stomach. “A fat guy’s dream!”

Craig considered tidying up, but he knew that Pam was coming in the morning. Instead, he took his swollen and sore body over to the couch and threw himself lazily down next to his boyfriend, snuggling into his large body. Rick hadn’t worn a shirt since finishing work on the Tuesday, and his overstuffed tummy had never looked larger. Despite the unusually cold November that they were experiencing, it was obvious that the large guy was experiencing what Rick referred to as ‘the meat sweats’.

“You wait until you see how crazy we go over the holidays,” Bob teased Craig just as RIck burped uncomfortably from all the food. “Our Rick here is king of the eggnog!”

“I’ve already made Craig a batch of my special eggnog actually,” Rick explained to his cousin.

“Oh, have you?” Bob smirked, getting a quick look at Craig’s swollen belly. “I see.”

“I was actually going to go see my mom this Christmas, but…” Craig pondered aloud. As the weight had piled back on him in the last couple of months, all he could imagine was his mother’s sarcastic voice in his head, telling him things that he didn’t want to hear; blaming him for everything that was wrong in her life.

“But he knows he’ll have a better time with us!” Rick told Bob, finishing off Craig’s sentence for him; saving Craig from having to explain his awkward relationship with his mother.

“Excellent!” boomed Bob. “We’ll look after you,” he winked. “Won’t we, Rick?”

With his arm draped over Craig’s shoulders, Rick rubbed the top of Craig’s arm, like the boy was his dutiful student. “Definitely,” he nodded. Then came the daunting phrase that Craig had heard all too often. “We’ll be spoiling you rotten!”

It was strange to see people that Craig had met many times in the past and not have them recognise him. That was exactly what was starting to happen as the Spring finally arrived. It was all the fat Craig had gained in his face. It had changed his appearance quite considerably; especially with his facial hair. Over the winter months, his weight had been building and building. It was his own fault. He hadn’t been fighting Rick and Bob, as well as their manipulations to ensure that he over-ate in the same way that they did. However, it was also the case that gaining weight was just so easy. Rather than having the traumatic experience of feeling his clothes tighten and a lover who disapproved, Rick was constantly slowly updating Craig’s wardrobe, subtly ensuring that his transition into obesity was as smooth as possible.

Now when Craig looked in the mirror, he saw the shape of man he would have been very much attracted to himself. He had all the fat features that he adored so much, on his very own body. Back in the days before he met Rick, he had longed to play with a guy with such jiggly nipples as he had now. The back fat, the arm blubber and jiggly thighs: they were all things he had adored. He couldn’t believe that he had such a protrusive stomach, nor comprehend the width of his swelling butt, meaning that he frequently knocked things over as he tried to glide into tight spaces that would not have been a problem for him eighteen months ago. What turned him on even more was the fact that he never envisioned himself inhabiing a body like this. He held up his underwear in disbelief. Did he really need such oversized clothes now? Had he really allowed his kink to take him this far? All because he’d fallen for a big man with a secret desire to feed him up?

The sex with Rick was even more astonishing as Craig had grown. He senseed there was a closeness and connection between them both that could not be matched. He felt admired and appreciated like never before. The way Rick’s hands travelled across his expanding body, reaching for all the softest parts, assessing the great width of his shape and marvelling at the pure fat that had taken over his body. Finally, Craig had found the one man who understood his attraction to all of this, like no one else he had ever met in his life.

The acceptance came easy after that. By the summer, Craig was well over 300lbs and lounging about on the couch, just the same as the other two when Pam came around to clean for them all. He couldn’t believe his luck as he was hired by a company straight after his graduation, working from home three days each week and only needing to commute into the city on the two other days.

“Maybe we could start thinking about getting our own place soon?” Craig smiled as he scanned his first paycheck with pride.

“I’d really like that,” Rick nodded, unbuttoning the shirt of his pot bellied boyfriend after his hard day in the office. Living with Bob had been great, but after two years of being together, the time felt right for the pair of them to branch out on their own.

Collectively, the pair of them saved and set money aside over the following months; planning their move for sometime in the Spring. The whole idea gave them both a glow of bubbling excitement; with their loved-up contentment ensuring that the pair of them continued to swell up even more.

“That has to be the best Chinese place in town,” Craig smiled, as he leaned back and rubbed his large, tight stomach a few weeks later. All three of them had gorged on their own banquet meal for two and there wasn’t a single thing left to show for it. “I hope there’s somewhere just as good in our new place,” he commented offhandedly to Rick, thinking about their imagined new apartment.

“What new place?” Bob jumped in, sounding immediately irritated.

Craig winced, remembering that Rick had asked him not to mention it to Bob until they had time to all sit down and discuss their move properly, mouthing a silent ‘sorry’ to his boyfriend as he could tell that he had just dropped his foot in it.

“You plan to move out together?” he asked Craig in a surprisingly aggressive tone.

“Not yet,” Craig smiled, trying to calm the suddenly tense atmosphere. “But in a few months, maybe.”

“That’s bullshit,” Bob laughed. “Rick’s not moving out. We’ve lived together for years. He loves it here.”

Rick breathed in awkwardly, knowing that he needed to set his cousin straight. “It’s just something Craig and I think might be a good next step for the pair of us,” he offered, as if dipping his toe into very hot water and then taking it straight out again.

“Bullshit!” Bob snarled. “Are you just saying that to keep him happy?” he pointed rudely at Craig.

“No. It’s…” Rick mumbled. “It’s something we’ve been talking about for a few months now.”

Bob shook his head angrily. The idea of Craig breaking up his living arrangements with his cousin had sent him into a fiery temper that Craig had never witnessed before. “Do you know what he calls you behind your back?” he snarled at Craig. “Your precious boyfriend over there?”

Craig sat there motionless, wondering where this sudden anger had come from.

“Dude!” Rick cried, attempting to make his cousin see reason and not hit out like it was obvious he was about to do.

“He calls you his ‘pet pig,’” Bob shot back. “You wanna know why you’re so fucking fat now?” he growled angily across to Craig. “It’s because he made you that way. He pours appetite stimulants into your pasta sauce, calorie boosters into your milkshake and whipping cream into your coffee. And that’s only the half of it!”

Craig looked across at Rick’s anxious face.

“He doesn’t actually love you. He’s just a kinky little fucker, like me. He gets off on making you fatter. That’s all.”

“Cool it, Bob!” Rick shouted now, clearly getting angry.

“Do you know how many times he’s asked me to help him get a measuring tape around that fat stomach of yours when you’ve drifted off to sleep, slumped on the couch? He even keeps a notebook.”

Rick’s head slipped into his hands, hardly believing that all of this was unfolding. Meanwhile, Craig’s wild eyes simply switched back and forth between the pair of them.

“And…” Bob added, laughing aggressively at the next piece of information he decided to share. “You want to know why you always get the munchies right before bedtime?” he blasted on. “It’s because Rick trained it into you. He looked up online how to do it; dosing you up with sugar for weeks until you started to do it all yourself. You really think he loves you?” he scoffed. “Two years you’ve been together and the only conversations he’s ever had with me about you is getting my advice on how to make sure you get even fatter.”

Craig got up, feeling Bob’s onslaught was getting too much for him. He heard the two cousins shouting at each other as he climbed the stairs and took himself into the bedroom. Was this it? Was his relationship over? Had every affectionate word that Rick ever said to him been a complete lie?

“You probably have some questions for me?” Rick gingerly asked as he stepped into the room a few minutes later. “I know you must be upset. Bob doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Really?” Craig shot back angrily. “You’re going to try and pin this all on Bob?”

Rick paused for a second and then nodded in defeat. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I’ve been out of line. Those things Bob said about the appetite stimulants and calorie boosters… that was all pretty much true,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Of course it was,” Craig sighed impatiently. “You think I didn’t know all that? I like fat guys. And you… you clearly like fat guys too. The whole feeding thing was just our quiet, kinky little game. But I didn’t think that was where our relationship started and ended. I thought you were in love with me.”

Rick looked hurt by the pain in Craig’s eyes. “I do love you!” he cried, stepping further into the room and kneeling by the side of the bed. “I just… I just let this whole kinky shit get the better of me. I watched Bob fatten up so many of his girlfriends, even when he was in high school, and I guess I let it all get into my head. Bob doesn’t understand real relationships. He’s just missing that little part in his brain. That’s the only reason why I don’t talk to him about all the mushy stuff between us.”

“Would you choose me over Bob?” Craig asked, having always felt secretly anxious that Rick’s cousin meant more to him than he did.

Rick sighed and dropped his gaze. “Of course I would. But you’ve got to understand. Bob was there for me at a very difficult time.” He sighed, as if about to relinquish the greatest secret of his entire life. “I didn’t always used to look this way. Back in high school… I was kinda… athletic,” he admitted begrudgingly.

At this, Craig couldn’t help but laugh a little. Of all the secrets that had come out that evening, this one hardly merited the gravity that Rick seemed to instill upon it.  “I know,” he smirked. “Pam did mention it once or twice.”

Rick’s eyebrows rose up. Perhaps he had forgotten how much Pam liked to talk. “I hated it,” he grumbled. “I had this desire in me to grow and get fat. Yet no one around me could understand why I was having these feelings. No one… apart from Bob. We could talk for hours about it; this compulsion inside of us to get fat. I’d seen Bob doing it to himself after high school. It literally blew my mind! So when I finally got my job and was earning enough to pay Bob some rent money, I moved straight in here and followed in his footsteps. I lost my abs and packed on a belly in a matter of weeks. It was…” he sighed with pleasure, “the best feeling in the entire world!”

“But what about Geoff?” Craig asked next.

Rick scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Pam told you about him too, huh?” he whispered.

Craig shook his head, finally recounting the story of bumping into Rick’s ex, just as he should have done over eighteen months ago. 

“So you knew all that, and yet you still stuck by me?” Rick asked in utter disbelief once Craig had finished, leaving nothing unsaid. “What the hell did I do to deserve you for two years? Ever since I was eighteen, I had Bob telling me that he was the only person in the whole world who would accept me for who I really was. Yet, there you were, standing by my side this whole time.”

“It’s a mess, isn’t it?” Craig sighed. They’d both been so immature about this whole situation; each of them holding pieces of the same jigsaw and not sharing. Only now could they piece them all together and see that they’d both only ever been completely happy.

“Do you still want to get a place with me?” Rick asked, allowing a little bit of hope to shine through his voice.

“I think so,” Craig nodded. “But… do you still want to make me fatter?” he asked in response. 

Rick squirmed, being asked so directly about something he had concealed for so long. However, this was a fresh start: a time for them both to be honest with each other. “Yes,” he stated, knowing full well that it could be the end of his relationship. “I don’t think I’d ever want to stop fattening you up.”

Craig nodded. Finally, the truth had been revealed: the feeder, thoroughly exposed.

“Okay,” Craig sighed, bracing himself for what needed to happen next. “But we do this together from now on. We communicate. We say what we’re really feeling, when we feel it.”

Rick was nodding in complete agreement; the smile spreading across his broad face. This wasn’t the end after all. It was only the beginning.

#gainer fiction #gainer stories #gay feedee #gainerstory #gainerfic #gainer story #gayfeedee #gainerstories #gayfeeder #gainer fic

[sturniolo-rat]

✨Matt Sturniolo Headcanons✨

For True And Certified Yapper Girls🗣️

🤍 Matt loves talkative women

From what I gather Matt isn’t naturally a loud person with paragraphs and paragraphs to say. He thinks a lot and says things in a very efficient so he doesn’t use so many words. I think he would absolutely love to have a yapper girlfriend that’s really engaging and asks tons of questions. He’d never have anxiety about being boring or sounding awkward because you’d carry and direct the conversation. He would worry about how to respond to statements because you’d ask him questions to direct his thoughts to.

🤍 You always make sure he’s included

You tend to dominate and lead group conversations. It’s easy for his voice to be overshadowed by yours so you’re always keeping an eye out for him. When you notice he’s making a face like he wants to say something you make everyone listen up. “Thank you, Baby. I wasn’t sure they heard me before.” Sometimes depending on the crowd he’ll get really anxious whisper to you his thoughts. You immediately redirect your attention and start yapping away loudly to him so the group is interested in what he has to say.

🤍 He likes watching you be outgoing

Matt doesn’t always want to be a part of conversations but he does like to watch you when you’re in your element talking up a storm and telling fun stories it’s and silly jokes. He’s happy to see you being yourself. It even turns him on a little bit. If he’s been watching you talk all night at a party he’s definitely railing you when you get home. He slips his hands into your panties and pulls you onto him. “Come sit on my lap and talk to me, Baby. Tell me if you want it rough or gentle.”

🤍 He listens to you really closely

The boy isn’t a yapper but he’s a damn good listener. He’s quite possibly the only one of the triplets who reads so he loves a good story. He’s always asking you to tell him story stories about your childhood and before you met him. “I swear to god you’re the most interesting woman in the world�� “I know I am. Now sit and listen.”

🤍 He gets really concerned when get quiet

Matt does NOT like when you get quiet. God forbid you become deep in thought about something and go silent. If he hasn’t had a debriefing about your day whenever you come home he’ll notice and come up to you with your favorite snacks. “Tell me what’s wrong, Sweetness. I brought treats and we can talk shit about whoever upset my baby.” Even if you’re not actually upset you take the opportunity to talk shit anyway.

🤍 He loves getting voice memos from you

You’re his safe person and your voice is so calming to him. He’s always so excited when you’ve had a day that’s so interesting everything that happened can’t be said in a text. He listens to your messages like it’s a true crime podcast. When he misses you or if he’s on tour he goes back and listens to the messages he’s saved. Sometimes if he’s having trouble going to sleep he calls you and asks you to talk to him until he falls asleep.

🤍 You make sexy audios for him

Yes, your voice is calming but to him it’s equally as erotic. He most definitely gets bricked up to your voice. One day you send him a voice message along with a text that says “LISTEN WITH AIRPODS!” He does and it’s just you touching yourself while moaning his name. He gets hard at the family function and has to punish you when he gets home.

Masterlist

@rafecameronsbitch @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @mrsmiagreer @lovergirl4387 @gdsvhtwa @ashley9282828 @j-worlds-blog @stephanienwf @achrisgirly @draculaura123 @abbypost @Cind2224 @crazychrisl0v3r @ryli3sworld @bkwrld @pinkishpearls @pepsienthusiasts @stunza @chrattstromboli @sturnssmuts @angelic-sturniolos111 @69isabella69 @maryx2xx @sturniolo04 @bigbeefybitch @klaus223492 @r93339 @sturnzsblog @spotconlon55 @robins-scoop @junovrsmp4 @sturnlover4eva @blahbel668 @lilahnowheretobefound @luxy-nyx @tuffsturns @m0r94n @sturnstvs @pepsicolapussy333 @maddyslifesstuff @dogblof @honeymoonxxz @xplr-sturns-e-m @hayhjelmstad15

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo #Matt Sturniolo headcanon #christopher sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matthew bernard sturniolo #nick sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo x reader

[yvnaology]

𐑺 ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ UNDENIABLY GUILEFUL.

꒰ jealous! lyney x reader ꒱ ⋮ 1.2k wc, friends to lovers trope, confession scene, romantic hurt/comfort (barely) to fluff, no pronouns specified for reader, lynette & freminet cameo, merged request, dialogues chosen by both requesters will be in bold. requested by @fairykazu & @ceneid [ thank you for requesting !! ]

[ ✐ᝰ REQ. 02 + 06 ] FONTINALIA FILM FESTIVAL !

He kept his gaze settled onto his custom-made cards, he skillfully shuffled the deck - all while trying to ignore the person eliciting playful giggles and light slaps against his arm from you. The gentleman was quite the charmer, earning your undivided attention. Earning, more like stealing.

“Are you sulking?” Lynette asked, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the slight twitch of his fingers, usually so adept and versatile, halted at the sight of the man’s lovestruck stare that was painfully apparent to be directed at you.

“No, i’m not.”

He felt one of his cards slip out of his hands and onto the grime.

“It looks like you are.”

He sighed before leaning down to pick up the card, the faint stain of dirt on the edge causing him to groan. “I just..”

The half-feline only crossed her arms at his hesitance, a trait he didn’t commonly have. “You just what?” she pressed, urging him to spill whatever was holding him back.

“I shouldn’t be sulking over it.” he finished with a weakened smile, before Lynette uncrossed her arms and put a hand on his shoulder - gently turning him to face her.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t be - but you are.. and that’s okay.” she replied as she took the card out of his hand, pulling out a handkerchief from her hat as she prepared to wipe off the smear of filth.

“Is it?”

“Mhm, but you like them, don’t you?”

He felt the tips of his ears burning, but once reminded of the sight of you teasingly poking your smitten friend’s arm - they immediately cooled. “I do, but..”

(Why would you ever bat an eye at him?)

His sister was as perceptive as he was, he didn’t dare hold any doubts about that. She placed the card into his palm before nudging his shoulder. “But nothing, you need to believe in yourself more.”

“But what if they already—“

“Go.”

“What?” he inquired, as she pointed her finger right at the table you and your friend were sitting at. “Give them a show they won’t forget, that’s apart of our job - isn’t it?”

Genuine confusion spread throughout every square inch of his face as he listened to her suggestion. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Figure it out.”

He contemplated her recommended choice of action before lifting his gaze from the ground, noticing Freminet approaching your table with slow, steady steps. What was he doing?

His lips were moving, blonde bangs covering his eyes - clearly communicating with you until your eyes darted towards Lyney’s slumped over figure. His amethyst colored irises immediately averted to the ground once more, before he hears footsteps. He looks dejected, like a cat unable to find its owner - like a magician without an audience to perform for.

“Did you want to sit with us?” were the first words that came out of your mouth, finding himself with bated breath as he shook his head. “I was originally planning to show you my latest tricks over tea, but it seems as like you have... company.” his voice gradually deceased decreased in volume, only confirming your suspicions that he felt a certain way about your companion.

“You can come perform them at our table, i’m sure he won’t mind.”

“He’ll go, he’s just feeling the pre-show jitters.”

“Lynette!”

The sudden interference from his dear sister made you chuckle, a reminder that their relationship would forever remain just like this - close, full of trust and playful affection. It was the kind of relationship most would feel envious of, but it only warmed your heart a little more when Lyney’s hand tapped his leg, it appeared almost instinctive. Was he nervous?

You led him over to the table you and your friend were sitting at, taking your seat and watching him pinch the edge of the flat brim before removing the hat from his head - flipping it over and noticing your friend’s uninterested expression. “Not to worry, I promise this’ll be worth it.” he affirmed.

“Just remember to keep your eyes on me.”

(And to not let your gaze wander to someone else.)

His sentence felt targeted, and the skip of your heart beat led you to believe his words were meant for your ears only. For a second, you forgot there was a third party sitting near you. Hypnotic, utterly alluring his every movement was - trained to capture your attention, and to never let it go.

His finger tips grazed the brim, a key motion you were almost certain had something to do with the oncoming trick. He presented the inside of it to the two of you, empty, as expected. He twirled the band with his digits, before turning the hat over once again and aiming the bottom of it upwards - watching as an ethereal dove emerged, carrying a rainbow rose in its beak. Its winged flight only lasted for a few short seconds, before landing onto the table and dropping the stem beside your plate of macarons. You eyed your comrade’s annoyed expression, furrowed eyebrows and a frown etched on his face as he suddenly stood up.

“Oh? Weren’t the biggest fan of this one?” Lyney innocently inquired, after all - he didn’t find anything wrong with it. The male only muttered a few impolite phrases before pushing his chair in and leaving the scene. “Hm, I presume he must’ve gotten the hint?”

“Or you scared him off.”

“Or the dove scared him off.”

“Lyney.”

“Yes?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

He hummed, strutting forward until taking the seat next to you. “I wasn’t trying to be, at least.. not this time.”

“What are we?”

“Friends.”

You grumbled in annoyance at his snarky answer, leaning in until your faces were centimeters away from each other. “Friends don’t do the things we do and this just proves my point.”

“This?” he questions, though you knew that he was aware of what you were referring to.

“You were jealous, weren’t you?” whether he wanted to get his hidden point across or scare away the other spectator was something you weren’t sure of just yet. The grin plastered on your face was always a welcoming sight, if only it weren’t used to poke fun at him.

“Don’t tease me.” he grumbled, before pulling your hand into his own and twiddling your fingers idly. “At least admit you like me to soothe my poor, utterly broken heart.”

“I like you too.”

“Do you?”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

From three tables away, Freminet watched as Lynette washed down her Madeleine with a cup of green tea. The air surrounding them filled with a warm familiarity that only occurred when you two were in the center of it all. Though, Freminet could feel his sister’s ease by the lack of rapid movement in her ears and tail. A leisurely pace that enveloped the atmosphere, causing it feel as if time itself had come to a stop.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Freminet worriedly asked, noticing Lyney’s pouty expression from a distance.

“Don’t worry, they’re fine.” Lynette reassured before turning her head over to you two - encouraging Freminet to do the same. His worry vanished in an instant the second he noticed your arms wrapped around each other, staring into each other’s eyes before your finger poked his nose - causing the magician to let out a sweetened giggle.

“They look happy.”

(And would continue to be so.)

#—stellaronhvnters. #astronetwrk #lyney x reader #genshin x reader #lyney x y/n #lyney x you #genshin impact x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines

[leah-lover]

Love in Ibiza. Barca x reader.

Orgy part 1. Part 2

You heard ibiza was beautiful and fun but you never thought you would experience it ever in your life. You were a midfielder from Manchester who suddenly got a call up to replace one of the best midfielders in the best club in the world. Your life was as normal as any footballer but your work ethic wasn't. You were talented and hard working which paid off. Barcelona offered you a contract that would then change your life in many different ways. The first obvious way was the new place, friends, and community in which you struggled a little. The weather was a nice touch that made you like the place more. As for the friends you quickly got friendly with your new teammates but the language barrier stopped it from progressing to more than friendly. The only person you considered close was Lucy. you never got to play with in man city but she was your shoulder in Barcelona. She showed you everywhere and helped you in a lot of ways. The second thing that changed your life was the winning, the positive and ruthless reputation, and the attention. It all served well in the end and landed you the best trophy in women’s football which was the champions league. As a celebration of the fact, some of the girls rented a house in Ibiza to go celebrate their victory , which was a tradition at that point. You weren't going at the beginning but when Lucy insisted you couldn't say no to her not after her kindness towards you.

You were a shy person but after the tequila shots coursing through your veins a new found bravery was all over you. You danced all your adrenaline away on the first night of the celebration. You were on the dance floor the whole night dancing with your teammates. Suddenly , you felt your legs give out so you headed back to the house and called it a night. Your drunkenness didn’t allow you to see the scene you were about to walk in through out the window. You stumbled all the way to the door, your hand searching for the key and your eyes not functioning properly. You open the door, walk in, and throw your purse and keys aside. You still pay no attention to the people in front of you or the noises coming from their direction. You then walk towards the coach only to lift your head and see mapi making out with alexia. The shock of the moment led you to scream and run outside. You close the door behind you and go back to the club again. Once you got there Lucy was the first one to find you.

“ Sweetie, what happened? Why are you so pale, talk to me please?” she asked, worry on her face.

“ promise me you wont tell anyone.” you respond.

“ yeah of course.” she responds.

“ capitna is… well mapi is…… Fuck why did i go back to the house.” you sit on the sidewalk your head in you hands.

“ You are not making any sense.”

“ mapi is cheating on ingrid, she was making out with alexia. I don't know….”

“ Come with me.” said Lucy, helping you stand up. She took your hand and led you without saying a word. You didn't understand what she was doing at first until you realized she was going back to the house and you stopped her.

“ Luce no please.”

“ Just trust me okay.” you sight in agreement and follow her back to the house.

Once you got there you noticed the window now that ingrid was the one who was kissing alexia now. In shock you stop Lucy again but now you are at the front door so she just opens the door and walks in.

“ luce, lucy” you whisper but she pays you no attention and walks in. However, you stay at the door.

“ You can walk in, carino, it's fine,” said alexia. You jumped again at the sound of her voice, but you obeyed and entered. You made your way to the couch and sat at the end of it.

“ I am so sorry about the way I reacted and swear I didn't mean anything bad. I was just confused and surprised and…” you were speaking really fast and you felt sweat develop with a rapid pave on you body. “ Sweetie, it's alright just breathe, listen, and you will understand. “ said Lucy after she put her hand on your thigh.”

“ You see, this time in Ibiza isn't used just for partying. We celebrate with more than tha. We do whatever we want and whoever we want. We all have an understand=ding of the commitment we made with one another. By we I mean myself, mapi, alexia, jenni, aitana, lucy, and ona. We like each other so we sleep with one another, sometimes only 2 of us, sometimes it's all of us.” explained ingrid with a small smile on her face.

“ you weren't supposed to see anything. I didn't want you to stay alone in Barcelona so I invited you. I am so sorry if you are uncomfortable we can book you a flight out of here.” apologized lucy.

It took you a minute to absorb all the new information. You didn't realize that they were waiting for a response from you. All their eyes were glued on you.

“ Do I have to go?” you respond.

“ Only if you want to” responded lucy.

“ If I don't leave, what happens then?” you say with a cheeky tone.

“ whatever you want. “

The room was static by now, most of you were on edge.

“ Is this celebration an exclusive thing or?” you ask, oxygen no longer entering your body.

“ Are you aware of what you are saying?” asked ingrid.

“ yes.” you respond, nervousness clear on your face.

“ no.” jumped alexia. You didn't anticipate her response so a frown developed on your face.

“ capi.” said mapi.

“ Ella no está lista” responded Alexia to her.

“ I am ready.” you say to alexia.

Everyone then turns silent.

After that Lucy sits closer to you, and moves her head milemeteres away from yours. “ are you sure?” she whispers. You lock your lips with hers as a response.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #woso x reader #woso smut #alexia putellas fic #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze fanfic #lucy bronze #jenni hermoso #mapi x ingrid x reader #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #barca femeni #barca women #barca femini x reader

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your Soul's Signature Scent

✧ “Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.” - Patrick Süskind

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, I'm a rambler and I love going off track. One pile got a mini wattpad story. CHEERS!

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✴︎ Pile One ✴︎ (King of Pentacles, 3oP, Knight of Swords, 9oS, 1, Ascension, Worthy,)

Not to be weird but I’d sniff you like rich frat boy coke.

It's hard to describe scents so… walk with me.

You have had a long, stressful day and the world is pissing you off. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place so after work, you open Google Maps in hopes of temporary solace with cheap liquor and bar food. You find one of those dingy sports bars with shitty beer, sticky tables, and drunk grown men yelling at a tiny wall-mounted television.

Not exactly your cup of tea, but as the French say… C’est la vie!

You practically had to beat half of the bar off with a stick, just to find a seat. Drunk old guys + A Pretty Pile One = Sloppy, slurred marriage proposals(?) You couldn’t tell, but “I wanna bring you home to my mama” sounds close enough.

You pay them no mind. You have one goal. Get fucked up. Don’t throw up.

Okay, maybe two goals.

You finally find a stool and raise a finger to signal the bartender.  

“Hey, bartender! BAR-”

“I see you. Don’t call to me.” 

A nervous drop in your stomach almost tips you off your stool. You feel them before you see them. Every bottle clink they make reverberates to that pit in your stomach. You only hear the bartender’s movements among a crowd of bustling people: their shoes stick and unstick to the floor, their fake chuckles at guests’ jokes, every time their hand slides across the bar to collect bills.

Maybe it’s delusion but you’re convinced you hear the steady drum of their heartbeat. 

You finally get a good look at the bartender. In a sea of hostile people drowning themselves to forget their sorrows, you see the calmest, most fearless person in the room. Squared shoulders, back straight, head held high, and the smoothest walk you’ve ever seen; they almost glide.

You watch in complete admiration as they de-escalate a fight, sanitize bar taps, count money, and make a drink all in one go. You haven’t spoken more than two full words to this person but something about their presence makes you want to kneel.

The bartender finally makes their way to you and their eyes lock with yours. Your neck begins to sweat so you quickly dart your head away. A deep, velvety chuckle comes from the pits of their stomach, “Don’t show me you're nervous, I usually charge the Bambis more.”

“Bambis?”

“You’re shivering like a scared little deer, aren't you?”

You have no words so you focus on twisting your hands under the tables. 

They find you cute. With another chuckle they lean in closer to you, “I’ll tell you what, how about I make you a drink to calm you a little, yeah?”

“Uhm, I’ll take a-” Before you could even tell them what you want, their back is to you making a concoction.

Forty-five seconds later, a glass of honey bourbon with an orange slice and a vanilla bean stick slides in your direction. Along with a… cigar?

“I doubt you can handle this, but I want to see you sweat.”

Hands shaky, you press the glass to your lips as the bartender guides you, “Take it slow. Let it sit. Savor it.”

You came in here looking for cheap booze and a deep sense of impending regret, but here you are drinking $400 bourbon you can’t afford and hanging off of every syllable this person says to you.

After a slow sip and a burn behind the ears, you ask, “How do you do that?”

They raise their brow.

“Ya know… command like that.”

They whip a towel over their shoulder, “Once you realize how scared and hurt everyone actually is, worthiness feels less unattainable.”

BAHAHAHA THAT ENDING WAS SO CORNY (and kinda ominous??) BUT THIS IS GETTING LONG AND THIS AINT WATTPAD.

In summary, your soul has a very effortlessly commanding signature. Even if you aren’t aware, your energy dominates every space it enters. You might have people who seem to dislike you for no reason, this is why. BUT YES, a sweet bourbon with a hint of citrus and something smoked on the side is 100% your signature. Also… Petrichor. Your soul scent is the sweetened waft of smoked wood beneath grit and the smell of wet Earth after a storm. 

"Can You Taste The Spice On My Lips?"

✴︎ Pile Two ✴︎ (9oP, 10oP, King of Wands, Lust)

✴︎ BAEEEE, don’t fucking play with me. Your soul just told me to take my shoes off in your million-dollar mansion. You told me to stop acting like a fucking hooligan???

There is a richness to you down to your very core. I’m getting Pushya, the most auspicious nakshatra representing wealth, prosperity, and milk (divine nourishment). But there is also a spiciness here.

SPICED CHAI MILK TEA. That is the scent that jumps out to me. The hominess of full-bodied, sweet cinnamon. The spicy warmth of red chai. Maybe even a little nutty, Spanish almond if you’re feeling crazy.

There is also a gradual build-up here. All earth signs, but primarily Taurus. There is this steady, sensual accumulation of your energy. You cannot be rushed, you savor moments and allow yourself to rest in all the sensations you experience in the present. If you don’t do this, your soul is calling you to do this. Slow down. Chew slower, shower longer, and take time out of your morning to listen to the birds sing. 

The leisurely flow of the universe is inviting you to join its dance. You are safe. You are provided for. The universe is your sugar daddy. Your guides want you to know that what you want, wants you; you just need to slow down.

I sense that your energy is aphrodisiacal. Your sacral chakra is one of your dominant chakras (could be healthy or a leak but it is prominent) and when people enter your presence their chakra gets activated too. People get creative and fiery near you. If their sacral chakra is blocked, this may be repressed and they can hold resentment for the free-flowing energy you have which they feel they lack. 

Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. That word is used a lot in this community and you may be tired of hearing it but that's too damn bad! You’re very fucking abundant.

If this puzzles you because you look around and don't see whatever you picture as abundance, it's because it's sitting within you waiting for you to actualize it. You have the skills, the intellect, and everything else under the sun needed to grab your dreams by the balls. I cannot stress this enough.

Go outside, journal, continue your affirmations, and remove yourself from anything lying to you and saying you cannot do this. It is a fucking lie. You have everything it takes to do what the world says is impossible. Shut the world’s opinion out and turn inwardly for your answers, because you have them.  

Ambrosia. Liquid gold. It flows through you. You are the gift. The universe’s greatest gift to you is you. You have the ability to spin anything into gold. 

I have some doomscrollers, spirallers, and people-pleasers in this pile. You may struggle with excess anxiety, digestive issues, acid reflux, and ulcers. Outside influences have tricked you into believing you are a pebble when you’re actually a diamond. 

Baby, you have to cut them off. By “them” I mean all negative energies that cause your mind to get stuck in a loop of self-hate. That includes social media, bad habits, fake relationships. Your solitude will heal you. Your peace of mind will heal you. Once you shut up the naysayers, you’ll finally hear the music that has been drowned out in your body and soul.

I know this is a lot but it is worth the effort. Your potential is worth the effort. A healthy state of mind is worth the effort. You are worth the effort. 

Sidenote: The star and temperance came out while I was cleaning up. BABY YOU A STAR IN THE MF MAKING!

"The great merit of gold is precisely that it is scarce”

✴︎ Pile Three ✴︎ (The World, 6oW, 2oW)

🎵Nowadays, I be duckin' them cameras

And they hype that I'm up on them banners

Callin' my phone, but they know I don't answer (why?)

In the hood, I'm like Princess Diana (grrah) 🎵

✴︎ THE PEOPLE 'S PRINCESS (or prince… orrrr the #1 baddest barnacle in the seven seas, whatever fits).

3, “The creative child” and 6, “The Caretaker” came out. 3 is the number of self-expression and creativity. 6 is the most harmonious number centered around nurturing your community. In the world, you’re the center of attention. In the 6 of Wands, you’re the one decked out in Dolce and Gabanna, playing Robin Hood and giving to the people. In the 2 of wands, you quite literally have the world in your palm.

Your soul’s footprint is destined to be seen and recognized. Baby, you are meant to be loved by the world at large. 

Maybe you have aspirations of becoming an artist, actress, or influencer. If you have dreams of being in the public eye, I am telling you your desires are not coincidental. You are meant for these dreams so do not be afraid to actualize them. The stars are expecting you, your home is in the spotlight.

Everyone incarnates on Earth with a role and purpose, you are meant to have a large platform because what you have to say matters and will elevate our collective consciousness. You have the gift of being able to garner great attention. People like to see you, talk to you, see what you’re wearing, know about your life, and everything else in between. People are like moths to a flame with you, you’re an entertainer to your very core.

You have a youthful, creative, and colorful soul. 

I am getting strong floral scents mixed with a crisp, clean linen smell. Gardenia, Ylnag Ylnag, Cherry Blossom, and Honey Suckle. I just know the bees be tearing your nectary ass up.

You know how Ariana Grande’s perfume line is always sold out? It’s kind of like that. “Oh, Pile Three is wearing this perfume? PUT IT IN THE CART. NEOW.”

Strong Venusian energy. Libra, Taurus, Pisces, 2nd house (especially for my singers), 7th house, Bharani, Purva Phalguni and Purvashada.

People find you very attractive. Yes, physically so, but the true embodiment of beauty stems from the soul. And you are utterly gorgeous. I am getting snow white; the animals flock to her, the sky clears for her, the seas part for her, and the forest protects her.

I am not trying to be redundant but this Earth does not play about you😭. That doesn’t mean you haven’t experienced hardship but trust, you will get the love you crave, tenfold. 

I get the sense that love has felt very conditional in your life and once the metaphorical “love pie” was cut and served, you were served last and there was never enough for you.

I am going to hold your hand as I say this,

Feel this pain. Process this pain fully. Cry all your tears, scream your sorrows out in the open, and let the winds carry it away. Let these feelings of being unloved leave your body because there is no space for them anymore. Eternal love is flowing in to fill those empty cavities. You are so loved. I am so sorry the environment around you has blocked this energy but please know that justice will be served and the love you are karmically owed is growing within you and you will be seen in this lifetime.

COME BACK TO THIS WHEN YOU’RE FAMOUS AND DON’T FORGET ME.

You better not go Hollywood on me 🫵

The Cosmos' Countess

✴︎ Pile Four ✴︎ (The Hanged Man, Knight of Wands, 5 of Swords)

✴︎ Random, but have you heard stories of those cool warrior monks? Who devotes themselves to their practice but when it’s time for battle they whoop ass?? That’s so you, boo.

You’re all peace, love, and light but you don’t fucking play about protecting your peace of mind. I sense that you live an alternative lifestyle. With the hanged man, you see life differently from the average person, and don’t waste your time with the world’s bullshit. 

You’re not on Twitter arguing about Drake’s tummy tuck (BAHAHA I HAD TO), you know shit like this doesn’t add to your life in any way. You focus your energy on activities and discussions that add to your self-evolution. You have made lots of sacrifices in life to progress forward and the universe sees your hard work and is proud of you. Hell, even I’m proud of you. 

You and the Universe like this 🤞. Here’s an affirmation that already rings true but is good to practice anyway, “I surrender to the natural flow of all existence.”

A lot of you study esoteric divinity practices. Tarot, scrying, rune-casting, psychometry, etc. We also have some healers. This may ruffle some feathers. Maybe your family or friend circle doesn’t understand your interests and may push against it but quite frankly… you don’t give a fuck. 

As you shouldn’t.

Your self-resolutions are impressive. You may feel nervous at times but your faith in yourself makes you fearless. You’ve done your studying. You’ve done your healing. You're ready to take the world by storm, and nothing is knocking you off your horse. You are the first to ride into battle and will be the last standing. I don’t know if you’re aware but you thrive in conflict, your soul spirit is akin to Martian energy and loves a good fight, to be honest. 

Your power is in your belief that everything will work out in your favor. “I have the power of God and anime on my side.” 

If you’re not quite at this level yet and you don’t see yourself as this peaceful warrior, you got the “soothe”, “present”, and “friendship” cards. It’s your nerves, baby. It has nothing to do with you as a person. You are smart enough. You are capable. You have everything you need to ride into this new life. 

The entire collective is being asked to slow down. The hustle in society right now does not allow our nervous systems to regulate themselves so everyone is miserable and drained. Remove yourself from this hustle and ground yourself in the present. You have to soothe yourself and lower your cortisol levels. Baby yourself, you deserve it.

Look up techniques to regulate your parasympathetic nervous on YouTube.

Anyway, your soul caught me off guard, you're that sexy mf fr. Ummm back to scent..

YES, okay so please don’t take this the wrong way because I am obsessed with what I'm getting. Hear me out, I used to take kickboxing classes for a few years and that particular gym’s scent was my favorite fucking scent. 

It sounds weird but it smelled like pent-up stress relief: sweat, blood, and Clorox. 

Of course, I’m not saying you smell like this, but this is how I perceive the scent your soul carries.

Your soul’s scent is victory. Particularly, through a bloody means. Your soul understands the purification in blood. Extremely Martian. You’re chill but you’re really fucking intense dude. I like you.

Oooo and also, hang out with friends!! Genuine contact can help relax your body.

Mmmkaye bye!

#arijackz #pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #astrology observations #pick a pile #scents #perfume #fragrance

[stormgardenscurse]

at your service—!

Summary: Maid headcanons for May! When you’re invited into a rich family’s mansion to solve a murder mystery, who will you trust?

Warnings: mentions of death, assassins, poison and murder due to the theme.

Characters: Riddle, Deuce, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Epel, Lilia

If you liked this, consider checking out my TWST Isekai Fanbook, now digitally available on my kofi!

Riddle

The maid who you thought hated your guts at first, but it’s only because of how strict he is with both you and everyone else! You’re in the manor of the Queen of Hearts’ descendants after all, so Riddle will not allow you to fumble!

Honestly speaking, you felt like you could be scolded at any moment around Riddle. He teaches you dining etiquette, how to address certain people, how to dance…

...And saves your life, after your investigation ends up with you being chased by a masked assassin. Riddle surprises you with his abilities in horse riding and after a dramatic escape (stealing a horse from a previously wrecked carriage) addresses you informally for the first time (without realising it himself.)

After that, you start to take walks with Riddle in the rose gardens and listen to his explanations of the manor's history. It helps a lot in understanding background politics, and the sound of his voice is actually really soothing.

Could you say that you’re friends? You certainly trust him now, but can you be sure his would loyalties will lie with you and not his superior, if your investigation starts to point fingers in an unexpected direction?

Deuce

Deuce is well-meaning, but you’re warned by the other maids that he has a track record with delinquency. Cleaned up by the head butler when he entered the Rose Manor to work, but rumors are hard bugs to squash. 

And when you spot him speaking to some well-known thugs in town, well… You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Deuce has only been welcoming and earnest with you, and now you’re wondering if he might have some ties to murderer.

Some kind of friend you are, huh? But at the end of the day, you’re an outsider who’s been hired precisely because your employer doesn’t know who they could trust. 

Your apprehensions have no time to take shape however, because one morning you notice that Deuce is wearing makeup to hide bruises on his knuckles and arms, and you’re overcome by the instinct to help him treat his injuries before suspecting him of anything else.

There’s no way he would hurt someone on purpose, right?

Jade

Prim and proper, Jade is someone who’s often by your side when you’re in need of assistance (as instructed by your employer), yet remains as one of the only people you cannot get a read on.

Just what is he thinking whenever he watches you scribble in your notebook, crossing out theories and names? Does he have something to add? Or might he actually be in cahoots with the murderer, keeping you away from the truth with his convenient position by your side?

As it seems with most things, it takes a serious incident to make the both of you open up. Jade rescues you from a poisoning attempt, but you don’t wake up in your usual room. Instead you’re in one of the empty studies, so that nosy witnesses during the dinner party can’t disturb your rest.

You don’t make sense, Jade tells you. But based on the way he’s calmly giving you another dose of medicine, he finds it fun rather than stressful. You’re glad. And now you know a tiny bit more about him.

He starts off the conversation by telling you he has a twin that works in a neighboring manor. But despite all the trouble Floyd gets into, Jade hasn’t felt as hopeless about a person than when you fainted last night.

Even with how weak you are in comparison to knights or trained assassins, you still fling yourself into mystery with a headstrong manner that makes his mouth quirk up in a smile.

Jamil

Shortly after that, you allow yourself to rely on Jamil for the investigation. He’s quite willing to help, and you can tell Jamil enjoys having something to puzzle out, demonstrating his own strengths and resourcefulness.

Early on, you realize Jamil is one of the only normal people here. In this noble household with its foreign etiquette and social expectations, you’re relieved that Jamil doesn’t expect such things from you, and even offers a space for something familiar to exist.

He brings you lunch once during your investigation of the gardens. And instead of sitting somewhere too exposed, Jamil leads you to a hidden corner with pleasant shading and a safe enclosure of hedges. It’s nice, and you speak casually to one-another. You discuss the town and best shops for food. You feel human again, rather than just ��the detective’.

…But the more you notice these traits, the more aware you become that Jamil could easily be related to the murderer. The spark of someone forced to lie low in the shadows despite their brilliance can lead to drastic incidents.

But still, you want to believe in the Jamil who brought you out for a picnic because he noticed you’ve been feeling suffocated. You want to believe this friendship isn't a hoax.

Rook

Despite how you were intimidated by his extrovertedness at first, Rook has proven to be a genuinely friendly person and willing to help during your stay here. Which is more than you can say for the rest of the manor—which was nice and respectful, but see your job as a taboo. A ‘what if we get involved and become the next targets,’ type of thing.

You can’t blame them, but it makes you naturally get closer to Rook over the course of your job. You realize one day that despite how much you’ve told him, you barely know anything about Rook.

He’s quite mysterious, as one who sweeps the floors while whistling a tune, always with a smile on his lips as he tells you about how beautiful the building and gardens are. His physique is a bit too toned for someone who only does housework. You suspect he has some other role in the manor too, and wonder if it might be related to the mystery's culprit.

It doesn’t help that Rook seems very knowledgeable about hunting. He helps you figure out where the victim must’ve run and how long it took for the murderer to catch up with them. And sometimes, when you’re caught up in your thoughts and theorizing, Rook surprises you with his soundless steps.

Epel 

Epel has always done his best to assist you, despite how he’s only worked here for a year compared to the other maids. He seems to be trustworthy and willing to help, on top of proving he’s reliable.

You find out that before you came along, there were already groups of maids and other staff who tried to piece together the mystery themselves. But in doing so, created distrust between them and rivalries of suspicion. He thinks that the culprit is definitely a staff member, but can’t be sure of who.

You don’t think he’s directly related to the murderer, but there are times when Epel’s mouth purses during a conversation you’re having with another noble, and you feel like he isn’t telling you everything he knows. Maybe out of privacy or because it’s personal—but when both of you seem to be the targets of an attack, you can’t ignore it any longer and are forced to interrogate Epel.

Now that he’s been helping you with investigations however, there’s definitely a target of sorts on Epel’s back. A few of the maids are unhappy that he might be spreading false ideas to you in favor of one theory or another. And he’s too prideful to shrink under their demands, so they haven’t been on talking terms for a while.

You can only hope that he isn’t indeed a poisoned apple placed before you, unknowingly used by the murderer themself.

Lilia

Very knowledgeable about the hidden rooms around the manor, you can’t help but be a little wary about the clever glint in Lilia’s eyes. He’s explicitly been assigned to keep an eye on you for the sake of the manor’s secrets, and you can tell he isn’t trained to be a maid, despite how it's the pretense he’s using to stick to your side 24/7. 

You sometimes get distracted by the mystery of who Lilia himself might be. He speaks about knights familiarly, yet none of the ones at the manor seem to recognise him when you both pass by. He’s not very good at chores or cooking (to the point where you took over at some points out of concern for the upholstery and kitchen), so how is he still blending in with the other maids?!

Lilia’s saved your life twice now, and you slowly learn that he has weapons hidden beneath his maid dress. Also that he can scale rooftops and the town in less than a minute, but you don’t want to ponder on his scary amount of agility just yet.

Thankfully however, it seems that Lilia is only hired here on a contractual basis. His true, deep rooted loyalties aren’t close to this manor. Which means when the both of you find some very incriminating evidence, Lilia helps keep it a secret from your employer. The both of you are shouldering the weight of the mystery now, but Lilia promises he’ll keep you safe.

You hope there never comes a time where you have to worry about his safety, or that he’d stick his neck out for you more than he needs to.

#riddle rosehearts x reader #deuce spade x reader #jade leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x reader #twst x you #twst reader insert #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #storm writings

[rxzennia]

a promise of forever

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 falling in love; promising an eternity in return. aventurine's real name, ~3k word vomit

aventurine has realized by now that he might just be in love with you.

okay, love is a strong word, let’s take a few steps back. 

he isn’t too sure if he’s ready to make that commitment yet, so… at least, he wants you to always be with him. to stay by his side.

he has to make the first move because you would never

he’s terrified!! he doesn’t want to be the first one to offer his heart!!

but if he doesn’t you’d be perfectly content maintaining whatever you have right now

like… boss and assistant? friends? best friends? roommates? lovers? not yet?

aeons he hated how passive you are

it’s so damn obvious that you liked him back to a certain degree

but why aren’t you trying to hold onto him? why aren’t you trying to take up more of his life like he’s doing with you? 

he wants your smiles all to himself; wants your hidden softness to only be directed at him; wants your affection for himself, all of you, including your leviathans

he loves, loves how you’ve opened up to him over time

you’ve gone from a ice cold slab of stone to a wall he trusts enough to rant at, then the highlight of his life that he doesn’t want to let go of

the way you would get upset whenever he tries to do something dangerous, even if you and he both know he’d come out fine

the way you would pick up the phone regardless of when or why he’s calling, even if you’re off duty and annoyed at him ringing you at 2am

the way you would, without considering his feelings, cringe and back away when he accidentally brings you food you hate, but ultimately feed it to your scarf because you don’t want to waste it

he loves them all. your reactions, your expressions, everything

especially when he’s probably the only one to see so much of you all the time

he wants to keep hearing you talk about yourself, keep learning more about you, even the parts of you that no one’s ever known before

he didn’t want to tell you all of that, yet he wants you to know

except you’ve made it very clear with your personality that if he doesn’t tell you, you won’t pry

and, like, you can’t read minds. neither can he.

so you’ve essentially forced him into confessing :(

if he wants your friendship (and more), he has to be the one who asks

aventurine remembers how cold you were at the beginning, so much so that he briefly wondered if working under him was amount to torture for you as it was for a few of his previous secretaries.

you never talked more than absolutely necessary, you've always had that terrifying glare, and couple these things with the fact that he rarely saw your face? yeah, you didn’t look like you wanted to be there.

he tried to transfer you elsewhere. under topaz, maybe, or even jade, or even some other department but you've never replied.

but you've replied to his texts before and after that?

you've just flat out ignored the transfer offer?

does this mean you don't want to be transferred?

that's probably when his fascination with you started

you, who's so detached and seems to dislike him, wanting to stay as his secretary?

he tried to ask you about it once, but all he got was “there's still a year before my contract expires”

which, well, yes, fair enough

but you should also know that if he's the one bringing it up, you won’t be getting into trouble for breaking the contract

he drops it, though, because he knows that there might be certain things you don't want to tell him

or perhaps you don't understand

he feels like you're very bad with emotions and expressing your thoughts

you are, honestly

it’s a different story with the permanent offer he made you a while ago, though

“are you sure?” you asked, with rare anticipation in your eyes

he chuckles, “absolutely.”

you try to hide your joy, but the speed at which you signed the paper is telltale enough

he’s also promoted you from secretary to assistant

even though you’re pretty much his assistant already

you don’t really know how to feel about that part

does this mean you’ll get even busier? not really? will you still be staring at contracts at 3am?

then comes aventurine’s offer for you to move in with him.

you’ve managed to finally notice that the dynamic between you and your boss resembles that of typical lovers in the media, but what do you know? one, aventurine is probably unused to someone else’s company so he’s compensating for it, and two, it’s not like you’re versed enough in mortal sentiments to make an accurate judgement.

he cuddles up to you in his sleep

he’ll smack your face accidentally when he wakes up and stretches

“this is the twenty-third time you’ve done this.” your scarf morphs into half a faceless snake and push his hand back down

why the hell have you been keeping count

you’ve mostly lined your morning routine up with his

efficiency, you tell yourself, it’ll be easier to keep yourselves on schedule

which means you find yourself with him at the breakfast table more often than not

he’s eating normally, while you… 

you have a leviathan chewing on the entire plate, and yes that includes the ceramic

what about you? you’re preparing presentations and drafting contracts, of course!

or sometimes fighting for your life in corporate emails :/

is starting the day together really still simply “efficiency” at this point?

you’re starting to think you’re lying to yourself as the days go by

maybe you’ve been living amongst mortals for too long

because you find him so precious that you want to hold him dearly and give him everything

he’s so scared of being vulnerable, but he’s willing to lower his guard around you

what is this foreign feeling? what’s with this odd desire to protect? to hoard?

like how dragons hoard treasure, or how crows hoard shiny things

has anyone told you you’re terrible at emotions?

you’re terrible at emotions

you’ve memorized every little thing he likes and every little habit he has

and he noticed! of course he noticed!

are you absolutely sure you don’t like him even a little bit?

are you absolutely sure you have nothing to say to him?

must he make the first move when you’re so blatantly obvious?

he really, really, hates you (lovingly) for this

aventurine eventually comes to terms with it. if he wants you, officially, he’ll have to bare his innermost thoughts first.

there’s a period of distancing, and a period of overwhelming anxiety and overthinking all on his own. but even then you didn’t pull away from him, no; you were patient. you’ve asked, then left him alone when he turned his head away, then you’ve kept it professional. you didn’t question him again after, either.

it stung a little when you acted all formal with him, but it’s your little actions in-between that convinced him to finally come out and say it. getting him coffee the way he likes it, letting him find comfort in your presence at night even if he’s suddenly closed himself off, ordering his favorite takeout when it’s a slow day, covering his openings when you find yourselves locked in combat… you’ve always been looking after him, haven’t you?

finally, finally, aventurine decides to confess.

considering how little he knows about you, he (surprisingly) isn’t too worried about giving you his heart

well, of course there is the tiniest amount of doubt and fear

but mostly he thinks you wouldn’t betray his trust. mostly.

you’re a walking green flag, after all

maybe with the exception of when you’re left alone with monsters

but the way you treat him? green flag. massive green flag.

even after he’s told you a little bit about his past, you haven’t looked down on him at all

he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked down on him

though, he thought you thought him despicable when you first met because of the way you looked at him

not unreasonable with the stereotypes against his people and all

but you’ve proven his assumption wrong on your first day

you were totally cooperative and really… well, not nice, but not hard to work with, either

despite your unresponsiveness, you’ve kept everything he said in mind

that’s not how one behaves around someone they find distasteful

and after spending so much time with you, he realized that’s just how your stare is

you sort of… look down on everyone without meaning to 

you have no idea how relieved he was when he could finally be certain that you’ve never disliked him

also! he can discern between your stares now

your resting neutral stare, your happy stare, your disgusted stare, they’d look the same to the average person, but not to him anymore

(he was super happy when he realized he’s got it all down)

he’s learned to read you because you’re so reserved and detached all the time

oh how he wished you’d tell him more about yourself

before anyone asks, he did try to dig up your past

imagine his surprise when he found nothing, like, literally nothing

the one time he watched you eat a monster whole was the first time he learned something deeper about you

he then realized that it wasn’t a coincidence that he couldn’t find anything about you

anyways, back to the confession

he’s come up with an entire plan in his head, but he really has no idea how to execute it

he wants to make it as memorable as possible for you! 

except… would you even like a grand confession (of companionship)?

in the end, he took you out to a fancy dinner under the guise of “just another dinner date with your boss”

he’ll tell you his feelings at home

he has an inkling that you’d prefer it that way. intimate and private.

“hey…” aventurine starts, sitting down next to you on the bed after his shower, “i’ve been thinking…”

you naturally pull the towel off his shoulders and stand up to dry his hair for him. “you think?”

“stop, i’m serious,” he complains, punching your stomach playfully before burying his face in your shirt. “hear me out, you oversized snake.”

that’s the first time you’ve heard that nickname. “what?” you can’t help but be amused at the creative insults, then you let out a soft sigh and shut your mouth.

“you know how you’re now my permanent assistant?” aventurine slowly says, wrapping his arms around your waist as you work on his head, “can i… can we keep having this arrangement?”

you reply with a hum, but your tone slides up towards the end, like you’re asking a question. he chuckles, of course you’re confused, you’re so dense sometimes.

aventurine shifts around until he’s looking up at you. “this. you and i, living together, taking care of each other,” he elaborates, his eyes half-closed from how tired he is, “can you… stay?” then, with a quieter voice, he adds, “with me?”

you take some time to think about it as you toss the towel aside and bring out the hair dryer

from what you know about him, this is a very, very big request for him

he’s essentially asking if he can rely on you 

even though he’s probably relied on himself most of his life

he wants to put his faith in you? you’re flattered, really

it seems like he’s also checking off a lot boxes for what people call “love”

according the the movies and books you’ve watched and read, anyway

but he’s not calling it “love”? is this something else, then?

you start blow drying his hair, carding through his blond locks with your free hand

he relaxes into your touch

“well? your answer?” aventurine asks, a slight shake in his voice as he peeks at you nervously.

“you sound like the protagonist of a romance movie,” you remark, leaning down to give him a quick peck on his head, “is this what it is?” 

suddenly, it dawns on you why exactly were there flowers at dinner

roses, no less

but jeez, you did not need to call him out like that

what happened to oblivious and clueless?

then again, you’re bad with your own emotions, but you’re horribly good at reading others’

he flushes and hides his face in your stomach

he just wants to hear your answer, not hear you point out he’s probably extremely smitten with you

and it’s probably worse that you compared him to the lead actors in a romance movie

is he so obvious? is he not subtle at all?

does this mean you’ve known all along? you just didn’t want to make the first move?

or do you not feel the same way?

oh no, he’s overthinking again

“aventurine,” you call, snapping him out of his trance, “if you don’t say no, i’ll assume this is a love confession.”

man, why would you say it like that? it’s not that he can deny it, but if you’re going to be so damn straightforward…

“it… it is, i suppose, in more ways than one,” he whimpers in embarrassment, “will you, then, uh, will you say yes?”

he wants to trust you with all of himself so bad

finally he won’t have to shoulder everything alone anymore

he’ll tell you everything about his upbringing, even the ugliest parts

he’s been yearning for someone to hear him, to see him for so long

will you be his person?

he’s so excited and so scared

more scared than excited, actually

there are more issues he’ll need to work through, but for now?

he wants your promise

he doesn’t think he’ll ever come across someone as perfect as you again

so he really, really, really needs you to say yes 

as the low whirr of the hair dryer comes to a stop, you set the little device on the nightstand and sit down next to aventurine. you sandwich his face between your palms and make him meet your gaze – you’ll never get used to how mystically pretty his eyes are – as you flash him a lazy smile.

“if you’re sure you want me,” you mumble; it seems that you are just as embarrassed as he is, “then… by all means.”

just as he’s going to throw himself into your arms, you stand up

?????? where are you going ??????

oh, you’re just going to put away the hair dryer and the towel

and also bring a spare scarf back with you? 

did you forget that you have yours hanging on your neck

he’s so over the moon right now he’s all giddy and all over the place inside

are you perhaps the same? 

when you come back, he practically throws himself into your lap

you avoid his eyes

holy shit you’re cute when you’re flustered

you’re blushing

you, who’s usually so stoic and unresponsive, is blushing!!

and trying to hide your face without resorting to your scarf!!

in the end you give up and instead pull him so close that he can’t see your expression

he doesn’t know what he’s asking out, you think, he doesn’t know what he’s trying to trust

which makes it all the more endearing to you

and it makes you want to make sure you live up to his expectations

this little mortal has you wrapped around his finger, and you don’t find yourself annoyed at all

in fact you want to shelter him and coddle him so badly that you’re tempted to act on instinct

tempted to. you can’t, because of a lot a lot of reasons

again, seriously, you’ve been hanging around mortals for far too long

you gently press his face into your shoulder. “aven-” 

“kakavasha,” he corrects, “call me kakavasha. please.”

“okay, kakavasha.” you don’t hesitate, and you move to massage his scalp. “your real name?”

it seems like he’s in no mood to talk, because all he gives you is a quiet hum in affirmation; you agree with him, you don’t feel like talking much, either.

you pull away slightly to kiss right above his ear. then you did something he would’ve never expected you to do – with your nimble fingers, you wrapped the extra scarf in your hands around his neck, gave it a few loops then secured it with the same knot you use to secure yours.

what just happened

you slowly pull away with a soft pat to the piece of cloth

did you just give him…?

you did. you did, you mad danger noodle of incomprehensible mass

two faceless creatures with drool dripping from their maws stare at him

they’re connected to the scarf you put on him

he’s feeling so many things right now

even if he doesn’t quite understand what this means, he at least knows that you’ve given him a literal part of yourself

you’re very into this idea of being with him, huh…?

boy, he’s so glad he decided to confess

because he would’ve never known had he not asked

and what do you mean he would’ve missed out on something so wonderful?

this is also the first time someone outside of his family has ever given him something so precious and personal

he awkwardly reaches out to pet them

they nudge against his hand happily? 

that’s weirdly adorable for a creature that has a diet of literal monsters 

and much like satisfied pets, they disappear into the scarf after they’ve gotten their fill of petting

“for me?” aventurine- no, kakavasha asks, tentatively running his hands across the smooth fabric.

“proof of my loyalty to you,” you reply, taking his hand and placing kisses on his every finger. 

what you don’t tell him is that your promise will last for eternity and beyond – even if you fight, or part ways, you’ll always watch over him. he doesn’t need to know that. not yet, anyway.

“you…” kakavasha feels like he’s a child all over again. he’s safe, he’s not making a wager, he’s not going to win or lose here, he can finally take a breather. “you have no idea…”

he buries his face into you, grabs your sides so he can press his body tightly against yours, and he sobs into your chest. he isn’t surprised at all that the scarf around your neck would wrap around him too, and he’s just all bundled up in you.

“shh, shh.” you pat his back and rock him back and forth. “easy now,” you whisper, “i’m here, kakavasha.”

aeons, he really, really loves the sound of your voice, especially when you say his name. when it was aventurine, you were reliable, loyal, and above all, gentle; when he finally allows you to call him kakavasha, every syllable from your lips drips with unspoken affection and a gratefulness that he’s unused to.

maybe someday he’ll finally be able to proudly profess his love to you. but at this very moment…

this is enough.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine #aventurine x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

[flemingsfreckles]

Personal Shopper

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Synopsis: based off this request of reader helping Jessie shop for new clothes

Warnings: nothing, it’s fluffy

WC: 1.2k

A/N: here’s some fluff to ease your mind with all the angst I’ve put out recently :)

“I feel like I look silly.” Jessie voice came over the top of the dressing room.

“Just show me.” You were sat outside on a bench, waiting patiently for your girlfriend to try on and show you the mountain of clothes you had picked out for her.

“No.”

“Jessie come on!” You encouraged her. “Just let me see.”

It was no secret to anyone that Jessie could use some wardrobe help, you had heard her teammates tease her for years, she even mentioned it herself on numerous occasions. She was quick to pick up a sweatshirt and throw on the same black Nike shirt and black hat that she always wore. When it came to fancier clothing, she was even worse, owning a couple of plain button ups and a few pairs of solid color slacks.

After she had complained one too many times about her wardrobe and not knowing what to wear, for your own liking. So you had taken her to various stores, spent hours looking through racks and piles of clothing, trying to find something for the Canadian.

She cracked open the door. Peaking out at you, “Don’t laugh please.”

You shake your head at her, “I won’t, I’m never going to laugh at you for trying something on.”

She opens the door fully for you to see her outfit. She had thrown on a plain black shirt, more tightly fitting than her regular choice of shirt. The shirt showed off more of her figure than her standard Nike black shirt. She had also put on a nice pair of pants. Black and white in a small checkered print.

“Oh wow.” You can’t help but let the words fall out of your mouth when your eyes scan Jessie head to toe. It wasn’t often that you got to see her dressed up.

“Stop.” She gives you a firm look.

“No babe, it looks so good.” You admire her for another second before looking to her face. She looked uncomfortable. “You don’t like it?”

“I don’t know, it’s just,” she turns back to the mirror to look at herself. “It’s different.”

“Okay.” You come up to rub her shoulders. “If you’re uncomfortable in it, don’t buy it because then you’ll never wear it. But it looks nice, so if you’re just uncomfortable because it’s new, then that’s okay.”

“I like the shirt.”

“Jess it’s a plain black shirt of course you like it.”

“Yeah but the fit is different, it’s tighter.” It was, her biceps were being restrained by the fabric, it was tight across her chest and shoulders, it looked good, a little too good given you were in public.

“Alright, try it on with another pair of bottoms then.” You push her in the direction of the changing room. She out a huff but closes the door and changes again.

Jessie hadn’t been super thrilled when you dragged her from store to store, she knew she wanted new clothes, a new style but it was the actual act of shopping and trying on that she hated so much. You on the other hand were thrilled Jessie had finally asked for your help.

You didn’t mind her clothes, they were never an issue to you, but they were an issue to Jessie which then made them your issue when she would come to you asking to borrow your clothes because she didn’t want to wear anything she had. You liked seeing her in your clothes, but you decided it was time she was happy with her own wardrobe.

The issue was not just having clothes but it was the fact that Jessie didn’t know how she wanted to dress. To be fair to her, the majority of her life is spent in athletic clothing, a game kit, training kit, or in some form of a team branded shirt, sweatshirt, or sweatpants. When she’d get home from training or a game she’d usually slip into another pair of athletic shorts or sweats, only throwing on jeans and a simple shirt if you were going out.

“I think I like these better.” Jessie opens the door, she’s got on the same black shirt, now paired with a pair of maroon dress slacks.

“Those look nice on you.” You let her look at herself in the mirror again, she turns looking at the back of the pants. “They make your ass look good, don’t worry.” You give her a smile in the mirror as she rolls her eyes.

She looks at them for a couple more seconds, contemplating the pants. “I think I’ll get these.” She finally decides. “And the shirt.”

“Okay take them off, put your jeans back on and try this on.” You had her a couple of linen button up shirts.

“Ughhh.” She groaned as she turned back into the dressing room, the linen shirts in her hand.

Jessie comes out in the sage green shirt, her jeans from home back on. She’s got a smile on her face.

“You like it?” You ask, hopeful based on her smile.

“Yeah, it actually feels comfortable, it doesn’t feel like I’m wearing a costume or someone else’s clothes.” Jessie looks at you for your opinion.

“That color looks good on you.”

“Yeah it’s different but I like it.” You could see the genuine smile on her face, it made you happy, seeing her satisfied with something she was trying on. She spins in the mirror one more time before closing the door behind her.

She comes out a moment later with the maroon pants, black shirt and linen shirt in one hand. The black and white checkered pants in the other. Jessie places the black and white pants back on the rack and then makes her way over to the display of linen shirts. You watch as she picks up one in white, blue, black, and a coral color adding them to the pile of clothes she was holding.

Jessie must’ve noticed the strange look you gave her as she turned around with the shirts in her arms. “What?”

“Nothing.” You say with a small shake to your head.

“I like the shirt, it’s comfortable. I’m ready to check out.” She knew you were questioning the fact that she just grabbed four identical shirts to the one already in her hand.

“I know.” You hold your arms out to her to offer to hold the shirts. “Whatever you want babe.” Sure it wasn’t what you had in mind when you had taken her shopping but at least she was walking out with something new that she liked, you couldn’t complain too much.

You watched as Jessie checked out, refusing to let you pay for any of the clothing for her. She did however make you carry the bags with all the clothes, which you did happily.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming blurb

[alexias-putellas]

between us (3) // a.putellas x reader x j.hermoso

a.putellas x reader x j.hermoso

part one part two

-

you were walking onto the pitch, a few paces behind alexia and jenni when someone jumped on your back. you yelped and stumbled forward, gracefully falling face first onto the grass. the only people who reacted were the younger girls—who weren’t yet used to your clumsiness—and ingrid—who was quick to yank mapi off you and hold out her hand.

she helped you up and you quickly kicked mapi’s ankle before running away from her, laughter falling from your lips as she gave chase. she eventually caught you and wrapped her arms around your waist, swinging you around as ingrid walked over.

“maría please put her down, we have camps soon and i don’t want her to go back to england injured.”

mapi rolled her eyes and lowered you to the ground but her grip never relented. “oh how will we survive without you for months? how will jenni and alexia?”

you squirmed in her grip, not liking the thoughts her words put in your head. she let you go and you scampered off to stand nearer pina and patri but far enough away that you could get lost in your head without interruption.

a frown unconsciously appeared on your face. you worked out the dates in your head and felt your shoulders sag. after flying to england with lucy and keira, it could be two months before you’d see your girlfriends in person again—depending on how well england and spain did in the tournament. and they’d see each other everyday.

what would that mean for your relationship? what if the time they’d have alone made them realise that they preferred their relationship the way it was before you came along?

part of you knew that you were being silly but it was an insecurity you’d been secretly harbouring since the beginning of your relationship, always worrying that one day they’d wake up and decide that it was too crowded.

would you even have girlfriends when you got back from england?

a soft slap to the back of your head brought you back to earth and you looked up to see a slightly concerned alexia already looking down at you. “estás bien?”

“yes,” you nodded, clearing your throat and giving her a small smile. “fine.”

it was clear that she didn’t believe you but she didn’t push. and when the first paired activity of training finally came around, you watched jenni and alexia pair up. with a quiet sigh, you made your way over to leila, thankful that she didn’t already have a partner.

when the second paired activity was called out, you were surprised to see alexia head over to mapi. with a quick glance at jenni, you took the opportunity to jump onto ingrid, missing the way jenni frowned.

“you okay?” ingrid asked you, having noticed your subdued behaviour since your interaction with mapi.

“i’m good.”

you knew that ingrid would have a good inkling as to how you were feeling, she went through it with mapi but it wasn’t the same really. they only had each other. there was no third party to worry about in their relationship.

so you didn’t confide in her like you wanted to. instead you decided to grin and bear it for the rest of the training session.

your girlfriends knew something was wrong with you with the way you avoided their gazes and ducked away when one of them began approaching. but you were great at avoiding people. and you had successfully managed to avoid your girlfriends until jenni caught you—literally.

“amorcito, where are you going?” she asked, the grip around your waist tightening as you tried to wriggle out.

“uh, home.”

“without us?”

you wriggled again. “i’m going out with pina and patri, need’ta go home and get ready.”

technically you weren’t lying. the pair had invited you out, you just hadn’t officially accepted yet, throwing a maybe in their direction when they first asked just before training started.

jenni’s grip loosened and normally you would’ve asked her what was wrong but you took advantage of the opportunity and bolted, throwing yourself onto an unsuspecting patri as you disappeared around the corner.

“i told you,” alexia sang out as jenni turned to look at her. “she is avoiding us, she is not going to tell you anything.”

a rushed hiss caught their attention and they saw ingrid pushing a terrified looking mapi forward. “i think it might be my fault.”

“ay dios mío, what did you do?”

ᡣ𐭩

you entered the apartment later that night, immediately hearing noise from the tv. you kicked off your heels and made your way towards the living room. your body froze as you saw alexia and jenni cuddled up on the sofa.

you were torn.

on the one hand—after a few drinks—all you had been thinking about most of the night was going home to your girlfriends but seeing them like that brought the feelings from training back and you found yourself not knowing what to do.

“hola, amor,” alexia said as you finally walked in. she turned to look at you, resting her chin on jenni’s shoulder. “how was dinner?”

“it was good,” you smiled slightly. “but i’m really tired so i’m gonna go to bed. enjoy the movie.”

with that, you scampered into the bedroom and away from the curious eyes of your girlfriends. you took off your makeup and slipped into a random hoodie you found, quickly dropping onto the bed.

you weren’t lying to alexia. you were tired. but you’d much rather have been cuddled up between your girlfriends than laying in bed alone.

when alexia entered the bedroom, she was genuinely surprised to find you curled up, fast asleep. she frowned and sat next to you, placing her hand on your forehead. you had just come back from an evening with pina and patri. usually that left you full of energy and your girlfriends would have the relentless task of wrangling you into bed so for you to willingly be doing the complete opposite was a bit worrying.

“well you are not sick,” she sighed, brushing her hand over your hair. you squirmed a little, eyes fluttering open. “hola mi vida.”

your face scrunched up and you murmured something unintelligible, reaching up to move her hand onto your face.

“bebita, i need you to stay awake, we need to talk,” she pulled herself away, ignoring your whine and the way you reached for her again. she watched the frown form on your face but you quickly turned away. “bebé, we talked to mapi. we know what she said. why did it make you so sad?”

it was a simple question. had you not been tired and a little tipsy, you would’ve brushed her off and gone back to sleep. but your feelings weren’t simple and you were crying before you could stop yourself.

alexia was quick to pull you up, holding you tight against her chest as your body trembled. she rocked you from side to side, rubbing your back soothingly until your sobs turned into shaky breaths.

“don’t want you to leave me ale.” you whispered, fisting her hoodie in your hands.

“it is not for long,” she whispered back. “we will be together—“

“no, no. leave leave! i don’t want you to leave me.”

before alexia could respond, you were swiftly pulled into jenni’s arms as she placed herself onto the bed. “mi amor why would we leave you?”

“because you were together before me and you’re going to be together all the time at camp, i don’t want you to realise that you love each other more than you love me. i’m going to be alone and you’ll have each other just like before. what if—what if you get used to it again and you don’t want me here anymore?”

neither jenni or alexia could remember the last time they’d seen you look so small and vulnerable. maybe it was your first time at the barcelona training grounds where you’d glued yourself to keira and lucy. maybe it was at the most recent champions league final where you shoved your silver medal into jenni’s bag so you wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.

“cariño that would never happen,” alexia brought her hand up to push your hair away from your face. “we love you too much for that to happen.”

you sniffled, looking between them. “promise?”

“nosotras prometemos.”

whilst you still weren’t completely convinced, there was still a warm feeling in your heart and when jenni laid you down and you ended up in your favourite place—tangled between them—you knew that you’d be alright.

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #jenni hermoso #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso imagine

[rizsu]

"i fucking give up," satoru complains, throwing himself on your bed.

"get off my bed?" you complain, throwing the chips at him.

not only was he uninvited, he also messed up your freshly made bed with clean sheets. surely he isn't going to force you into a therapist, right..?

"don't tell me what to do," he speaks, voice muffled as he's face down on the bed, "it's your fault i'm like this anyway."

you pay no mind to him, tossing your phone onto the bed before you go to the bathroom.

"yeah, yeah. i'm the big bad wolf."

satoru turns his head to face your direction. the side of his face's squished, enhancing his pout. ever since he had that dream he's been like this. it's always some fucking dream and never something that happens in real life. to say he's tired is a severe understatement and just disrespectful.

technically, this entire ordeal is his fault — but technically, you're the one who's at major fault! it's not his fault he caught feelings for you which was against the conditions you laid out. it's also not his fault you're exactly his type. totally not his fault you care for him in a way that blurs the line between platonic and romantic. yeah, not his fault.

‘friends with benefits my ass,’ he curses in his mind, watching the closed door of your bathroom. ‘what is she doing? it does not take that long to pee.’

soon after you re-enter the room, wiping your hands on your thighs before calculating your precise landing spot as you jump.

location: on top of gojo satoru's back.

action: completed successfully.

"what the fuck," he groans, turning to throw you off his back.

you laugh softly, patting his leg with your foot. "that's what you get."

he glares at you, mocking your words in a childish tone.

a silence settles in, both you of go on to do your own things. satoru fiddling with the rubix cube on your bedside table, and you were switching through apps on your phone.

it's comfortable, being in a moment of silence with another person. there's no forced feeling to start a conversation; just the way you like it. peace, beautiful peace.

"OKAY!"

startled, you looked at satoru with the physical expression of ‘???’

"are you malfunctioning?" your tone's disgusted, so too is your expression.

satoru sits up, "(y/n), i decided."

"decided what?" you reply, mirroring his action.

"remember that dream i've been talking about?"

"yeah?"

"it was about us. so, basically, i fell in love with you and i know you said you don't want any romantic relationships because of the commitment but i couldn't help it after the dream — i want it to be real, i really—"

"take a breather, satoru," you cut him off, placing a hand over his mouth.

maintaining eye contact with him, you slowly removed your hand, "don't rap your words, ‘kay?"

"yeah," he voice goes soft, breaking the eye contact to look at your hand.

"it's true i'm not looking for any commitment, but who knows? maybe i want you the way you want me," you shrugged.

satoru doesn't replicate your nonchalance. in fact, his jaw dropped approximately thirty degrees down! slamming his hand down on the bed, he leans forward.

"please, please don't be rational right now. thy must listen thee heart, not thou mind," he speaks, pretending that he said a ground-breaking philosophy quote.

"what's with the old english? anyway, i'll try to not be rational."

‘he's nervous,’ you think, noting his habit of biting the skin off his lip.

"don't do that," your arm extends to his face, using your thumb to pull his lip out his teeth. "you'll bruise your lip."

the action causes him to groan, throwing his head back.

"oh fuck you, (y/n). just kiss me if you're gonna do that," he complains, pouting at you.

"if you say so," shrugging again, you pull him down to you, initiating the kiss first.

like he said, you won't be rational. you'll save the regrets or whatever for tomorrow.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen. #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk x fem!reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru drabbles

[abibliophobiaa]

One word prompts are so hard for me cause they could go an infinite direction but what about the word Cherry with Steve?

don’t you call him ‘baby’

steve harrington x f!reader. angst with a happy ending. [2k]

——

There’s a cherry red stain on the edge of the grainy photo. The color of your favorite lipstick — the same color still on the collar of his old jean jacket. He'll never get rid of it, he’s decided long ago now. You’re smiling back at him, captured forever in this picture, the sunset behind you, a hand hiking up one side of your flowing dress, the fabric backlit by the orange sky, highlighting the curves of your silhouette. He doesn’t even need the photo to remember the way it feels for his hands to travel the pathway of your side, your hip, the contours of your thighs. And the memories of that day hit him like a freight train all the same, like it was only yesterday.

Your hand is in his as he peels away from the curb at Max and Lucas’ new place in California. Sun streaks across the sky still, his sunglasses perched high on his nose. He feels you squeeze him tighter, thumb stroking lovingly along his knuckles. He turns his head and captures your gaze, your mouth a firm line, eyes round and soft. Sad.

“You okay?” you ask, and he realizes that sadness is for him. Heart practically shatters at that, because you know him deeply — just as you’ve always known over the years without him ever uttering a word.

His lip wobbles, but he doesn’t cry, tries not to at least. Even so, you gather the tear that eventually streams down his face. Thumb it away so tenderly it’s like you’re trying to capture it — to encapsulate this moment. Max is gone, Lucas is starting a new career, Dustin is off to college with El, Will, and Mike. Robin’s getting married soon. And he’s peering at everyone through the window, wishing them well, watching them slip away with the passing of time.

Everything is changing, yet you remain, and though it aches to see his life changing so quickly and suddenly, you’re a constant. The thought alone has him leaning over at a red light and kissing you soundly on the lips, hands in your hair at the back of your head, his cheeks flaming hot when the light turns green and someone slams on the horn behind him.

“Let’s go somewhere,” you muse softly, a little to yourself, head against the doorframe, free hand twirling in the wind out the window, catching sunlight in the palm of your hand. “That sign says there’s a beach up ahead. I want to put my feet in the water.”

He smiles, squeezing your hand, thinking how he can’t wait to marry you one day. “Okay, honey.”

Soon enough you’re both running along the beach with your hands tangled together. You’re spinning. Twirling. Laughing as he turns you round and around on the beach, sand between your toes, sun kissing his skin, blissful words punctuated by lingering kisses. There’s a blanket strewn out nearby you brought along and laid out, shoes discarded, your newest book propped open on its front. Beside that is the camera he brought along for the trip, the same one he rushes away to grab, chest splitting in two at the wide smile that breaks along your face.

You’re perfect. Everything he could ever want and more in a person. Beautiful beyond whatever measure a camera could ever capture you within. The photo slides out and slowly develops. The same photo you hold pinched between your fingertips as you later drive back to your hotel, bringing your lips to the bare corner, leaving a cherry red stain behind.

“Give me your wallet,” you reach an arm out and he slaps the leather within, the picture sliding into an empty slot. “Now you’ll always have me with you.”

Such sweet words — if only you had known.

He’s not sure how it happened. How that one perfect day became a memory. He still remembers the feel of your warm skin after hours on the beach spent kicking up sand, dancing in the waves, falling into fits of laughter as you eventually fell back onto a blanket, hands tangled together as tightly knit as your hearts. Later you’d pulled him down against you in that hotel bed, blocked out the rest of the world, and relished the feel of two souls wound together like one. You whispered forever against his throat as he later curled you against his chest, with the sound of his heartbeat a promise to lull you into sleep.

But things changed. His anxiety after Vecna grew, he buried himself in a job he didn’t even want at his father’s company to run from it. Work became too much — distance between you grew, him on trips that drew him further and further away from Hawkins. He pushed you away, he knew it, you knew it, though neither wanted to admit it out loud. At first you fought about it, about how you wanted forever but forever couldn’t look like this if you wanted it to stand the test of time. And then the apartment grew silent. Screaming matches turned into quiet sobs before bed, when you thought he couldn’t hear you, but he did every time. The distance became a chasm, too far to broach.

Then you left. Packed your things one morning and chose yourself. He understood. Of course he did. Still it didn’t make anything better. Didn’t make his heart hurt any less.

Now he sits in the middle of your — his — bed staring at the photo of you. The box of things he kept of yours through the years stored beneath his bed, even after Eddie suggested he might want to put it away in a closet or something. It’s been six months, six months of not turning over every morning to find you already awake and propped up beside him, wanting the first thing he sees every morning to be your smiling face. Six months of wondering what you’re doing, wondering who you’re talking to, wondering if you’ve moved on.

He gets his answer that night.

Eddie’s shoving Steve along beside him. Clothes cling to sweaty bodies in the packed bar. Robin couldn’t make it, so the two decide on a ‘boy’s night out.’ They’ve not had one in a bit, since Chrissy’s just given birth to their first baby a couple months ago. But she practically pushes him out the door that night, promising her and their new son will be fine, that he deserves a fun night with his friend.

Only it’s far from fun. With July came the hottest weather Hawkins has seen all year. ‘A record breaking high,’ the news stations tout. All Steve knows is his jeans feel tighter than usual, his skirt is stuck to his sweaty back, and the woman he loves is standing at the bar with a man Steve doesn’t recognize.

“Don’t look,” Eddie warns, as though it’s not already too late. As if Steve’s not drawn to you like a magnet, even after all this time. “He could be a friend, or something.”

He could be. But the man is reaching over to rest a hand over your forearm, head bent low, eyes wide, and clearly engaged in whatever story you’re telling him. Steve’s not surprised. It’s one of his favorite things about you: this way you seem to captivate every room you walk into. Like he’s in your orbit, circling around you, pulled in close by your mere aura. Anyone who knows you loves you, he thinks — and they’re lucky for it. He’d been lucky for a time, too.

“Steve, stop torturing yourself,” Eddie says, giving his friend’s shoulder a little wiggle. “Here — let me go grab us some beers. I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything hasty.”

Steve shakes his head. What’s he going to do? Scream. Cry. Beg for you to come back. No — instead he watches. Feels his chest ache as you throw your head back in a laugh at something your date must say, hiding your smile against the lip of your glass, suddenly bashful when your eyes flicker up and clash with Steve’s. The drink in your hand falls and shatters and people rush to clean it up. Your date scrambles to find a stack of napkins, dabs at the front of your blouse, the gesture lost to you as you stay staring ahead, held in place by a ghost of your past.

Suddenly, like a light bulb flashing in your mind, you snap back to attention. He watches the bob of your throat on a swallow, the long rise and fall of your chest on your deep inhale and exhale, the forceful smile that curls your lips as you return your focus to your date.

The moment slips away as Eddie returns to the table, glasses in hand.

——

He’s not sure how he ends up here. Standing in your doorway, the ‘exit’ sign at the end of your hall flickering in the night. Your palm splays against the open door, mouth agape, eyes on his face, blinking frantically like you might think he’s an apparition.

“Please don’t tell me he’s your boyfriend.” Please don’t tell me you call him ‘baby.’ He hates himself for the tears that glimmer like pools in his eyes, hates as you reach up to cover his cheek when the first spills down his skin. “Damn it — I had a whole speech and I —” His voice breaks, throat closing around his words. You’re on your toes, face in his collar bone, clinging to him like he’s the very thing keeping you afloat at sea. “I quit my job, I started therapy, I’m not saying it excuses anything but —”

“Come with me,” you whisper, dropping back onto your heels, pajama shorts ruffling around your thighs.

Heat blooms in his belly as your fingers knit with his, dragging you further into an unfamiliar apartment. It’s very you. All your favorite colors and things, movies strewn about the living room floor, the grainy static humming on a television screen. A pot of half-eaten macaroni is left on a stove top, a plant on your kitchen table, books on a little shelf on a corner leading to a hallway. Lived in.

“Sit on the bed,” you demand as he slips inside your bedroom.

The blankets are messy, like you’ve risen from a nap recently. A stuffed animal he won you at a carnival rests beside your pillow, well-loved, as the fur is no longer as fluffy as it once had been. He watches stiffly as you reach down beneath your bed and pull out a shoebox. In your lipstick, you’ve written “Us” and decorated the top of the box with dozens of little stickers accumulated over the years. In awe, his gaze trails your hands as they pluck item after item collected throughout the years together. That first Scoops Ahoy napkin where he wrote his phone number down, that strip of photos at the photo booth at a carnival, your plush toy between your bodies as he kissed you that first time, a shirt of his from high school days that still smelled like him when you breathed deep enough, the little stack of Polaroids with all your memories scattered within. Early dates, holidays, Valentine’s Day, trips out of town with Robin, photos with the kids. Memories frozen in time of a life that feels so long ago — a life he still craves more than anything.

“I never got rid of them,” you mutter thoughtfully, holding up a photo of him napping on a lawn chair at his parent’s house, skin tanned, chest bare, marker scribbles by the kids on his face in the shape of glasses. “He’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t dated anyone since…”

“Me neither,” he swallows, inhaling sharply as your forehead rests against his. “I know I can’t…I know I messed up and I can’t take that back. But you deserve the world and I want it to be with me.”

“You’re going to give me the world, Harrington?” You tease, and he can almost hear the laughter in your voice as you reach down between the two of you to shove the memory box aside.

“If you’ll let me.”

“You have a lot of groveling to do,” you murmur, and he can feel your lips brush his, just a whisper, softly enough he wonders if he’s dreaming, “starting with this.”

He kisses you. One for every day he’s gone without. Until you’re falling onto your back and gazing up at him with stars in your eyes, fingers trailing his bare chest, lingering along the heart that thumps wildly beneath, singing of a forever.

——

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb

[windvexer]

Ritual Gestation and Birth: A relatively low-spoons method (at least I think so) of creating powerful* servitors, enchantments, etc

*Powerful as compared to other techniques that work worse.

A common spellcasting method is to immediately deploy the spell once the casting is complete. In fact, deployment is often a part of the casting ritual in and of itself.

A different option is to keep the spell vessel in a state of magical gestation over a period of days or weeks, so that it slowly matures, gains strength, and solidifies, until it's born into this world, ushered by your hands.

This method is opposed to one where huge amounts of energy need to be raised at once. It's not a technique I'm able to manage in a sustainable way, and I find the results to be a little too... jittery.

If you are a witch who must not, or may not, raise lots of energy at once, this technique may be more manageable. It involves supervising a pot of spell, a bit like a simmering pot of stew, but overall I find it to be less of a draining process. Perhaps other people will find the same.

I believe that creating a magical seed (or embryo, if you like), and tying it to a physical object - such as a candle, crystal, piece of jewelry, charm bag, poppet, and so on - is in and of itself a powerful act of magic. This is why a candle can be enchanted, immediately burned, and still result in miraculous effects.

However, I also believe that giving the seed time to magically gestate can produce deeply powerful, effective, and long-lasting (or perhaps better to say, permanent) results. This isn't the same as completing a casting and letting the enchantment sit until you're ready to use it - it's an active process of nurturing.

Instead of immediately sending a spell to go out and work, sending it to a gestation phase is an easy change. If our spellcasting methodologies are anything alike, all you've got to do (in crude terms) is to swap out your targeting/release portion of the spell with an introduction to the magical womb, or egg, or embryonic sack, (&etc), within which the spell will grow and gain strength.

Examples:

If you direct energy as you raise it, instead of chanting, focusing, writing, or affirming that the spell goes to the target as you raise the energy, instead C/F/W/A that the spell goes into the gestational vessel.

If you gather energy and imprint/program it before you deploy it, send it to the gestational vessel instead of the target.

If you fully enchant a spell vessel (such as enchanting a candle, or creating a poppet), after the spellcasting is complete, instruct the new spell to rest and grow strong within the gestational vessel, until it's time to be fully born.

After the spell is cast, and you have magically moved the spell into its gestation phase, the spell components should be placed securely within the gestational vessel and tended to until they're ready to be born.

The "gestational vessel" is a physical object - in Traditional Witchcraft, this is most suitably the cauldron. But the gestational vessel only needs to meet a few qualifications, regardless of its ability to make campfire stews:

The gestational vessel must have a secure lid, even a makeshift lid, which blocks out the light.

It must be large enough to completely hold the physical components of the spell which it gestates.

It must be able to be stored without disruption, where no unqualified persons may accidentally remove the lid or disturb it.

Additionally:

Moving the vessel doesn't seem to typically disrupt what's growing inside. It can be taken down from a shelf, etc.; as long as the lid isn't opened without due cause.

I do not personally consecrate gestational vessels to that special purpose. I tend to use multi-use vessel which I'll use for other things later.

When the spell is inside of the magical egg (tired of saying gestation), it becomes your job to tend to it by providing energy. This can take many forms, and is an intuitive process.

Feeding the spell can be done in any manner which you usually recharge objects, or provide offerings to spirits. The line is blurred here, I think.

Feed the spell more of what you fed it in order to create it; that is, more of the same energy you raised, more of the same emotion you spent, and so on.

If preferred, feed the spell food, candle, and incense offerings. A general offering of "white light," or another creative energy, also does well here.

Intuition may advise that different foods are wanted by the spell at different times. Do with that as you please.

Those able to "tune in" to the energies of their spells and environment may find it to be very easy to keep track of the embryonic spell's hunger. Otherwise, follow a simple schedule.

I usually do not find that spells need to be fed every day, and when they require feeding, I do not find that they respond to huge amounts of energy or offerings.

Feeding about every three days is a safer bet for me.

I notice that an excess of provided energy just seems to pool up and go to waste.

A feeding may be as simple as placing a bit of your dinner next to the gestation vessel along with an offering charm, or if you're able to, lighting a single tea light.

Persons interested in psychism may have an excellent time noting the energetic change in the spell as the gestation develops.

The lid may be carefully opened to peek inside, especially if normally helpful intuition fails without peeking in; but treat the vessel gently, as if a tiny embryonic baby chicken is inside. Be quiet and gentle, and avoid disrupting the lid unless you really need to.

Ahead of time, before you even cast the spell, you should have decided how long you're going to gestate it for. Three days, or a full moon cycle, or dark to full moon, are a good bet; so is one week if you're doing a planetary thing. I find that even a shorter gestation period provides delightful results compared to doing none at all.

Intuition may advise that the spell is ready to be born early, or would like to stay a little longer.

If intuition is not your ally in these matters, follow the schedule you've set. All will be well.

The appointed time has arrived - the spell is to be born! (Celestial enthusiasts may be wise the the idea of birthing their spell at a special hour, day, or election).

Frankly, popping off the vessel lid, saying, "your time of rest is done, you are now at full power, go now and begin your duties" will perfectly suffice.

But better can be achieved.

If possible, consider employing a birthing ritual. Here are ideas, in no particular order:

Symbols of a gateway or passageway are very good, even something as simple as two stones or two candles to mark a 'gate'.

Using an actual doorway, especially moving from indoors to outdoors (or vice-versa, depending on the nature of your spell).

Using a hag stone to represent pulling the spell from the faerie world into our physical one; the reverse process of how such a stone is often employed.

Using a family tradition, or religious or cultural tradition, to celebrate the birth of a new baby; even if this tradition is only symbolically simulated through key points ("I am the grandpa of this family, and as the grandpa, I announce the new baby's name!")

Doing something celebratory and evocative, like that Lion King scene where Rafiki holds up baby Simba, etc.

In general, the spell should be removed from the gestation pot in a ritualistic way, glistening with the gravity of ushering new life into this world.

The spell may be carefully taken from the vessel and passed through a doorway or liminal space; symbolically drawn through a hag stone or other physically impassable space; held up to greet the first light of the day, or the light of a certain moon phase; be passed over a fire; or any number of ritualistic acts to denote movement into a new phase of life.

At this time, you should magically assert that the spell is born, and ready to do its task.

Of course, you do more. And in these matters, I find that more is better.

A christening ceremony, or a baptism, is most excellently employed to further empower this new life to be a living being in our world, capable of great influence and change - as we all imagine our children will be.

A bit of anointing oil, a touch of holy water, a formal naming ceremony ("I name you, My Paycheck is Cleared. Your name is My Paycheck is Cleared."), whatever you like - especially include a small gift to the spell (perhaps a few coins to set it on the right path in life), or - I suppose this post has gotten long enough. You can perhaps imagine what more could be done.

When all is said and done, employ the spell; light it if it's a candle, whisper things to it if it's a poppet, hang it up if it's supposed to be hung up, and so on.

Do mind that such things, having being born into this world and given real life, do not tend to quit it so quickly as only bornless energies that are diffused just as they were raised; like waves, forming and dissipating.

Things with birthdays and names and birthday presents and baptisms and godparents tend to feel as if this world is theirs, too.

I am generally not very much of a "be careful" sort of poster, but for this sort of technique, I'd recommend being careful. It really does work fantastically, and that's the problem.

Feed the spell with your blood at the moment of conception, and at the moment of birth, for something extra delightful.

#tbl #witchcraft #traditional witchcraft #not 101 I don't think #rough draft as always

[undercoverpena]

2. facial hair and smiles

javier peña x f!reader* | chapter two of let us pretend

summary: peña has been back in Texas for all of five minutes, thinking he wants a simple life. but, when steve offers him the chance to gather information on a potential new player, he jumps at the chance. the only problem is, to do so, he'll need to go undercover with a female agent—and pretend to be her husband.

wordcount: 4.6k chapter themes: fake dating/relationship/marriage, forced proximity / sharing one bed, colleagues to lovers,no use of Y/N, *female agent has a nickname (sunny) for use undercover. an: this is where things begin to feel very diff from the original...

It’s not a surprise every muscle in your body is tense—back, shoulders and even your neck. Being stubborn has a price, and even if you’re cashing it in, you still don’t turn over.

If anything, you refuse to roll onto your back.

Instead, tossing and turning as the shadows on the wall shift from a line pointing towards you, to the opposite direction.

Legs straight, muscles twitching from how you lie unnaturally compared to a night ago when you’d been in your own bed. None of it is helped by the fact your brain won’t quiet, practically wrestling with itself as you listen to each crinkle of the crisp white pillow you reshape and hear the duvet slide inside the sheet as you adjust your positioning.

Sleeping has never been a foe of yours, until now.

It isn’t because of the bed (all comfortable and far more luxurious than you’d ever treat yourself to) and it isn’t because of the temperature—because that is relatively perfect, even if you hadn’t set it yourself.

No, it was the person who had set it.

The man on the other side of the makeshift pillow fort—the one you’d insisted on building when he’d come out of the bathroom shirtless and only in his underwear.

Fuck, he looked good without his clothes on.

A thing you’d hoped wouldn’t be possible, knowing how difficult it already was when they were on. Yet, there you were, confronted with the golden hue of his skin, all illuminated by the bedside lights, the broadness of him more profound as he scratched the top of his arm with the other hand.

Ironically, you’d almost relented from building it when he’d been behind the bathroom door. An olive branch. Then he’d stepped out and you’re not sure you’d ever built anything quicker as the piled clothes in his hands were thrown on the nearby chair, before shooting you a look that made it appear as though Peña expected you to say something.

Like he was waiting for it—as though he wished to go to bed mad.

That’s when your stubbornness began. Because you weren’t about to give him that. Not even if your tongue had already sharpened and was readily laced with poison.

Instead, you smiled sweetly and said: “Goodnight, Peña.”

Surprised to find (not that you wish to admit you waited for it, letting a beat pass, then another, counting them, totalling them up in an imaginary abacus before he cleared his throat) he responded with a: “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

If glares could set fire to things, you were sure the curtains you were facing would have gone up in a blaze. Your jaw gritted as your head adjusted itself on the pillow, mind ticking, mentally firing a bunch of things back at him.

It’s why, as the sun begins to rise, your brain is still bitter. Now running on mere fumes, having spent an entire night with your body more tense than it’s ever been laid on the same mattress as another person. Your head throbbed from tuning your ears for a change in breath, something to establish that he has fallen asleep and you might be able to do the same.

Because you had not wanted to fall asleep first.

And because of that, what you have learnt is that Javier Peña either never breathes differently, or never sleeps.

A thought you ruminate on, naturally. Turning it over, assessing from all angles the cause, whether your presence is a factor or if the things you’d read in his background—or were told—played a part. Each assumption you landed on, fizzled; fell through your clutches as if it was made of water, trickling to the floor and vanishing.

All you knew for sure was when you finally peered over the pillow, the man didn’t look like he’d barely had an hour—unlike you. His head already turned in your direction, all coffee-brown gaze attempting to brush over your skin and wake you as he met your eyes.

“You need the bathroom?”

“Go right ahead.”

Your shower does nothing to help. It doesn’t wake you, not even as the warm water rains down, slipping over your face, running down your lashes and meeting your cheeks. It doesn’t loosen the knots you had, not even when your fingers turn the dial, letting more steam collect and build on the ceiling. You feel clean, but nowhere close to refreshed.

Less so when you slipped out from the bathroom in one of the complimentary robes. Finding him sat up, looking puzzled at the hotel room folder.

“Anything good?”

“No.”

You don’t bristle under the short reply, even if it makes something curl inside you. Instead, you toy with the end of the rope that protects your modesty. Trying not to stare at him, to ogle him like this.

Because he is something.

A sight for sure, all hair tousled with one arm behind his head. He’s still topless, the sheet hovering just under his armpits—making him appear even broader against the crisp white sheets, something you hadn’t known could even be possible. He’s toned, but soft—fit, but you imagine running isn’t his favourite.

But, what you linger on is his expression. How soft it is, a complete juxtaposition to the tone he keeps using—that’s without the way his eyes flick up to you, still as warm as they had been over the pillow, making your skin feel hotter than it had done under the shower head.

“We could go out,” you say, “Late breakfast?”

Closing the folder, he breathes out a heavy sigh. All quiet, a line appearing between his brows—just ever so slightly. Then, one brow lifts a little more than the other as you just wait. Standing at the bottom of the bed, twirling the leftover rope around and around your fingers, before letting it unravel.

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

You try to disguise your surprise, but the way his lip curls says you’ve failed—quickly adding that you’ll begin getting ready then, earning a nod which does nothing to settle the growing unease in your stomach.

It shouldn’t take you by surprise when he steps out of the bathroom in dress trousers and a partially unbuttoned shirt, but it does.

You blame the lack of sleep.

Even if he’d given you a warning of his attire before he had headed for a shower, the sight of him suddenly makes your mouth dry—turns your thoughts practically to dust.

It’s out of your control, the way your eyes sweep up and down him through the mirror. Your fingers pausing mid-adjustment of the necklace you’re trying to wear—suddenly finding it constricting, even if it’s inches from your throat.

You may have been the one to suggest the idea, but it had been his to suggest dressing up. All about looking the part, discreetly blending in—looking like the sort that would make waves, that would be in a place like the group the two of you were meant to be keeping tabs on.

Tracing your eyes up and down him, you don’t suppose that’ll be difficult.

“You see something you like, Mi Sol?”

Your breath hitches at the name. It’s a new one, one he’s likely conjured in the shower. And fuck, does it make heat rush to your cheeks.

It’s the fourth iteration of a name you’d heard in twenty-four hours, and this one feels the hardest to disguise from how it affects you. Something he seems to notice from the smirk and the way his head tilts, his eyes sliding down your neck, making you feel hot, your chest tight, hands clammy—the clasp becoming difficult to keep hold of.

“You need help with that?”

You catch yourself, thankfully before your mouth drops open. The image shattering, the cockiness of his tone doing a good job at placing back all the displaced shards in your mind his appearance had knocked loose.

It makes it easy to clear your throat, to conceal as much of it as you had let show, pushing it away into someplace you hope he can’t dig out from you.

Forcing yourself to roll your eyes, you sigh. “You missed a few buttons.”

Snorting, he dips his head, looking at you through his brows. “Well, look at that.”

You don’t miss the smirk, the one he buries under a mask as he drops his eyes, fingers finding the buttons. All you can think is that you regret suggesting going out. Not sure if you’re ready, for this, for him—for the pretence.

It’s only as the chain, cool against your skin, lands over your collarbone, like an anchor, dragging you down, do you realise how much you miss your desk, your files, your post-its and pens. The safety and personal space you get to enjoy every, single day. The low risk, the lack of him—the only thing to contend with is if the coffee pot is empty—

“Fancy Cuban?”

He’s staring, studying you again. Trying to work you out as if you’re a problem he can solve, a bunch of numbers and letters that make up a calculation.

Swallowing, boxing up your nerves, you smile. “Sounds good.”

His eye narrows, just the one. Stepping closer, the scent of him washing over you, wave after thick wave. Your head looking to grip onto something, trying to recall the names of restaurants, searching and digging as his palm places on the desk you’re using to get ready. He’s just moving closer, chest almost flush with your shoulder—and that scent almost swallows you, tries to kidnap you. All musk, and rich, and something which clings to you even if he’s not physically touching you. Then, he freezes his eyes on yours through the mirror.

Struggling to swallow, your mind emptying, letting your gaze wander over the hairs above his lip and the way his nostrils flare as he breathes in and out.

“I know a place,” he says, all monotone, before standing back up.

The gap extended, the spell broken—sounds and other scents coming back to you in tides.

Sweeping your eyes over the floor before standing, pulling at your clothes, giving yourself another look over. Already despising that your wardrobe costs more than you usually make in a year—that it consists of labels, of more things you’ve had to memorise, just in case someone hurtles something your way.

Because you know from listening, from transcripts, that people with money, love to talk about money.

“You look nice. By the way.”

Meeting his eyes, you let his look mist over you. Allow it to unknot your shoulders from your ears, and allow your back to settle into its normal posture. Lips turning up, you grab your handbag—missing your usual, hating this rather shiny, more expensive version of what is coming with you on your first real date with this man.

“You scrub up well yourself, Peña—”

“Javi. Can’t be calling me Peña out there—the ring I’ve given you says you like me.”

Averting your eyes, you sigh. “Javi, you didn’t give me anything.”

“Sunny,” he says, voice dripping like silk as he moves closer, pocketing his keys, “If you want me to buy you something pretty, you just say, alright esposa?”

Swallowing, you do your best to smile. To pretend. To put on a comfortable performance, similar to the one he seems to be doing without trying.

“Cuban will be fine, esposo.”

Snorting, he brushes his fingers over his jaw—traces, let’s then slide in a line until he sweeps his gaze back over you.

“What are you comfortable with?”

Blinking, you glance down to close your purse, not lifting your eyes until your brain has exhausted itself in its attempts to solve what he means.

And fuck. The sight of him with his hand in his pocket, a slight pop off his knee, all relaxed lean as he waits.

“Hand holding, my hand around your waist? What’s the…” he clicks his tongue before he swallows. “What are the parameters of your comfortableness?”

Your mouth twitches, a smile appearing, not one forced, not even close. If anything, you want to laugh at the way he said parameters, all clinical, all business.

He seems to have caught on. “Thought it would help. Seems it has.”

“Why?”

Shrugging, he smirks—and that twinkle is back. The one from last night, the one that seems to naturally find its way to his eyes.

“Your shoulders have found their way from near your ears, esposa.”

You say nothing, just slide your fingers between his. A thing that remains until the two of you are in the back of a cab.

Javi should take his eyes off you, not that he has found himself able to yet.

He lies to himself, tries to trick himself that it’s because you’re tense—something he’s noticed since you “woke” up, not that he imagines you’ve had a lot of sleep.

Working you out has become a harder task than he first thought it would be. Having assumed he had you pegged, but then, you’d made the comment—dug it in further with a smile and a cold stare as you made the fort between the two of you.

He’d waited for you to fall asleep. Arm under his head, listening, waiting to fall into the usual spiral of ticking and replaying he always does.

Every night it’s the same. He hadn’t expected Miami to be any different—even if he’d hoped. It began with the big things, then the small, and then anything his mind could latch its greedy hands to. Last night, he found himself thinking of the way your eyes widened, how you looked temporarily frozen when he’d guessed this was your first time.

Plus, how he’s gonna wring Murphy’s neck for not informing him it was your first—

“What made you agree to do this?” Lifting his chin, he licks his lips. “You just… with the history you have, doesn’t seem like something you’d be interested in doing?”

“What, helping a colleague?”

Smirking, you sigh, “No. Undercover work.”

He hears the playful edge to your tone, finding it matches the subtle change in your expression, the way you relax. All suggesting that perhaps he's managing to make you feel comfortable.

“Cheap vacation,” he responds, and you give him a small, tentative smile that lights up your face—forcing his heart to flutter in a way he hadn’t expected.

Because you’re looking at him, really looking at him, and he can see the walls you’d built considering if they should crumble, fall—leave a wake of dust and debris.

“You’re funny.”

Snorting, he stares at the menu. “You seem surprised.”

“Well, when I heard you were good with your mouth, I didn’t expect… you know.”

Rolling his jaw, he flicks his gaze up to you.

“You don’t seem like the kind of man who gets on his knees a lot—so I should have assumed Steve meant you were funny.”

“Sounds like you’ve been thinking about it a lot, what my mouth could do?”

Snorting, loud—purposefully so—you clear your throat. “Oh, I’ve done nothing but dream about it, Pe-Javi.”

It's not the words themselves, but the way you say them—the nonchalant yet suggestive tone, the glimmer in your eyes—that sends a jolt of something down his spine, making his heart pound against his ribcage.

He's taken aback—having not expected it.

The words hanging in the air, the smile that was once on your face slowly fades as the seconds tick on, into a thoughtful expression, your eyes no longer meeting his. It's as if your gaze is focused on something far away, something that he can't see.

The vibrant energy that had filled the space between you two is replaced by a silence that is heavy and tense. The clinking of utensils and the murmur of conversations around you seem to fade into the background, leaving only the quiet that has settled over your table.

The change is palpable, his eyebrows furrow in concern, the question apparent in his eyes as he watches you. But you don't look up, your attention still seemingly focused, a small crease appearing between your brows—

“Baby,” you whisper.

Blinking, his mouth instantly going dry—heart thumping in his throat as it unknots inside of him. His chest tightens, making his shirt tight across his back as he takes in how your body language has changed, shifted. A complete opposite to the person who he’d helped out the cab. You looked different, better, competent.

Clearing your throat, you place your wrist on the table, sliding your hand over to him—gesturing for his hand. “I think one of them is over in the booth.”

You mumble it, hide it with a dip of your head—like a fucking natural. Your knee nudges against his, the left one, giving him enough of an inclination to which side of the room you’re referring—before you tease your fingers in his.

It’s not the touching—that he can handle—it’s the way you lean, your eyes all wide and full of faux adoration.

“Think I fancy a big plate, with two sides.”

Licking his lips, he draws a circle on your hand and watches how your eyes flick down to it before landing back on him.

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you lick your lips. “I’ve had one of the salads, but never the other—don’t know anything about the ingredients.”

Snorting, he glances down at the menu. Composes himself, and tries to hide the smirk which wants to grace his face.

Because he knows last night you doubted yourself, even for a moment. But right now, sat across from you, he’s not sure how you ever fucking could.

Glancing over your shoulder, he skirts his eyes to the table—and takes them in. Instantly labels them, remembering Big Plate (as you just called him) from the files and notes. He’s only just able to drag his gaze back when the table stands, money is thrown down, and he hears the clatter of cutlery and plates as they leave.

“I think they’re going to be unavailable now.”

Nodding, you smile, brief, innocent, just as your hand retracts from his, sliding back to your menu. Holding it, crunching the plastic around your grip.

Between ordering and the food being delivered, Javi learns more things about you. That your dad, like his, lives alone and never remarried. That your family is a collection of control freaks and loose canons—and you joke that you’re not sure which side of the fence you land on.

Mostly, Javi learns that you’re funny, that you’ve been single for a while and that—

“This is the first date I’ve been on in a while where I’d actually consider going back to their place with them.”

“Yeah?”

Rolling your eyes, you push your plate back, smirking, “Shame you’re wooing me for another win under your belt.”

He knows it’s in jest. Can tell.

He’s just not sure how to explain that it’s not about that. That he did his thing, got his “win”. Just, wins don’t feel all that good when there’s always another thing, always a web of destruction and a mountain of corruption. That it doesn’t matter.

Leaning back in your seat, he watches as you stare at the half-eaten array of plates. Lips still curled up in a smile as he takes a sip from his bottle.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Tilting your head, you raise your brow. He knows you’re hoping it’s enough. Hoping it’s demanding enough.

Shaking his head, Javi traces his fingers over the hair above his lip. Eyes not leaving you. Almost singeing you through your clothes. Because fake or not, he’s having to concentrate hard on not leaning across and tasting the sauce lingering on your lower lip. Especially when you smirk at him, when you smile—when your eyes linger on him and not with contention.

“You stare at me like you wish my clothes would be removed.”

Snorting, he takes a sip from his beer. “You say it like it’s a problem, esposa.”

“No one can hear us. You don’t need to act here.”

“Not acting.”

Your eyes drop down, and he feels it—that disbelief. The way you think it would be so impossible for someone to flirt with you, to be enamoured by you.

“Fine, you don’t have to be a flirt, you know that?”

Grinning, he takes another sip.

“This your first date in a while?”

He feels his eyes narrow, putting the bottle down. “Second actually. Sure our room service yesterday counts.”

Laughing, you shake your head as his tongue rests on his cheek, gaze fixed on you. “You didn’t answer.”

Rolling his eyes, nostrils flaring.“Yeah. Something like that.”

Nodding, you tilt your head, fingers playing with the base of your glass. “If this were real, I’d go on another—just so you know.”

Snorting, he leans forward. “Should hope so, we’re married after all.” Flashing his ring your way.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. I’d ask you out again.”

“Because you want to see me naked?”

Smirking, he picks up his bottle, if only for something to do. “Fuck you,” he laughs.

His fingers slide down it, collecting the condensation, traipsing it around the glass, to the napkin it sits on. Finding himself relaxing in the chair, knee abutting yours again.

Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes. Glance down at your half-empty plate as you take a deep sigh.

“We should probably have a story, right? A…thing, a proposal or a wedding, why we fell in love or something,” you suggest, sliding your fork around your food.

“Probably.”

Nodding, you trace your bottom lip with your tongue, holding his stare, something there, fluttering, something unreadable.

“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “What made you fall in love with me, Sunny?”

Bringing your drink to your lips, you relax into your own. “Your facial hair.”

Suddenly leaning forward, he drops his forearm onto the table, voice lowered, “You into facial hair, baby?”

Smirking, you lick your lips, the tip drags across slowly. “On you, honey? Yes.”

It’s instant, the way it makes him swallow. Forced him to blink, to shift in his seat.

“What about you? What made you fall in love with me?”

He pauses.

His eyes flick over you, from the top of your head to your chin. He knows he could say something, offer a line, a well-versed thing he’d practised. But, he wants you to trust him, believe him—be assured by him. Mostly he wants you to feel impressed by him, a thought which fucks with his head more than the ring on his finger and the fact he’s doing this again—working, all but on another case.

Sighing, Javi moves the fork on his plate further away as he leans closer. “Your smile. You have a nice smile—when you show it.”

You say nothing, averting your eyes, and he gets the impression he’s just said the wrong thing.

You don’t seem to ‘forgive’ him until he’s walking with you by the beach.

The waves crashing against the sand smother the tense silence since the Cuban place. With each step, he considers saying something as sweet builds on his lower back, the mid-afternoon sun beating down on them, peeking out from behind clouds.

He doesn’t.

Feeling the fragility of the air around you, how everything is tightly wound all over again. Even if, occasionally, Javi feels your fingers brush his. All within reach, easily able to capture them and pull your palm flush against his. A thing he knows he should do, for the image, for the job.

But, Javi was still trying to work out (a thing that bothered him the most) why you hadn’t slept. It had tortured him—layered itself on top of the long list of things he turned over when the world goes quiet and most living things decide to rest their eyes.

And, because he wasn’t inattentive, he’d noticed each toss and turn you made. Even told himself that if you did so again, he would ask if you were okay. But, he never did. Just laid there, silent. Feeling like more of a fucking idiot than he had done when he’d been overseas.

“Sunny, I—”

“I don't want to have him touch me. Big Plate.”

Mouth falling open, he blinks. The two of you coming to a stop. Javi’s past swirls up inside of him, remembering how far things have gone before, how—

“You asked me earlier what would make me feel comfortable, I don’t want him touching me,” you continue, arms wrapping around your waist. “I can flirt. But, if anyone is going to touch me, I want…”

“It’ll be me,” he says, gruffer, more final.

He can't be sure if the words really land. So he nods, just in case. Finding your fingers slow in the strum against your arm, your straight lips softening into their usual resting expression.

Bodies facing one another, your head turns and peers at the few beachgoers. Processing. A line trying to deepen between your brows.

“I won't... he won't touch you, Sunny.”

The corner of your lips slides up, eyes flicking to him. “Is that a vow?”

He only snorts, watching you shift on the spot before gazing back over at the beach. And, in a way, he supposes it is peaceful. The sound of the water. Something easy to get lost in. His hands find a place in his jeans pocket, looking out, watching a wave rise, before it collides back to meet the rest of itself as you motion to take a seat at a bench.

Only then does he hear the tinkling; the sound of things meeting in the warm breeze. A wind chime, an array of plastic banging against metal. It forces him to glance over his shoulder, spotting it: the little gift store.

“Sunny, I’m just gonna grab a drink—you want anything?”

Not taking your eyes from the ocean, shaking your head, the softest and nicest 'no thank you, Javi' leaves your lips and greets the salt-tinged air. It almost makes him smile; it's close to making him look back over his shoulder as he walks over to purchase—spotting the way all the tension has left you, how you’re just staring, lost in a trance.

It’s instant, the way he grabs the things he wants—two cold cans and a little something else. Paying, giving a little nod to the cashier before he’s back in the sunshine, wishing he’d thought to bring his shades as his eyes squint to take in the frame of your shoulders from behind.

As he slides around the bench, placing the two cans down, he seats himself close beside you, finding your eyes shift to him—even if the rest of your head doesn’t turn.

“Gimme your wrist.”

Face scrunching, you narrow your eyes. “What?”

“Sunny.”

Rolling your eyes, you do. Sliding your hand into his with far too much annoyance to be ever deemed close to romantic—as he removes the bracelet from inside the little paper bag, stretching it out with his fingers as he pauses at the tips of your fingers.

“What’s this?” you ask, puzzled.

His fingers lightly graze over your skin, sliding the elastic, faux gemstone bracelet over your hand until it rests on your wrist.

“A gift.”

“Some husbands buy their wives pearls or diamonds.”

Smirking, he watches as your other hand brushes over the bracelet, trying to fight a smile.

“Not most husbands, am I?”

Flicking your eyes up at him, he knows he shouldn’t—knows it’s not good that he does—but his heart misses a beat. Practically skips it, and gallops over it.

“It’s you and me, alright?”

Nodding, you swallow.

“Say it for me, mi sol.”

“It’s you and me.”

Nodding, he motions to let go but finds your hand tightens around his. Fingers sliding, up and up, until they’re inside his, resting, paused.

Then his heart does the total opposite of skipping when you whisper a thank you. Your fingertips glide over each bead, your body drawing nearer to his, the warmth of your legs pressing against his as you shift your gaze from the ocean to him.

“How close were you to calling me a good girl then?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he shifts his eyes to you. “Fuck you,” he smirks, watching you grin as you turn your head.

And all he can think is fuck, your smile is pretty.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña smut #javi peña smut #javier peña x reader smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier peña fanfiction #jo: let us pretend #jo: htcu #narcos fanfic #narcos fanficion #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters

[ipegchangbin]

The idea of the boys wanting to put on a show for y/n. who do you think would be the slutty one "oh cmon don't get shy now ____, it's not like we don't make out all the time anyway. do it for y/n, i think they'd really like it. and i know you would, you literally said so last night." as he looks over to grin at you

And thennnnn! who would be the shy but eager one with his hands already on the other members belt as he leans in

idkidk just an idea

my fingers slipped here’s a quick mtl

🏷️ sub!skz ot8, member x dom!reader x member

MOST SHAMELESS SLUT

minho — it doesn’t matter whoever he’s with, he’s going to be a slut and be cocky about it. at this point, it isn’t even for show, or for the other; he wants to display his sexuality. absolutely loves it when the other gets riled up because it gets him going. definitely holds the other person by the back of his head, proximity so close that they’re nose-to-nose, all the while minho’s hand pumps the other’s cock against his own. the other hand? squeezing the other’s ass.

seungmin — knowing him, he’d take this opportunity to tease his friend. he’d dig into the word “friend” while sliding his hand into the other’s boxers. call them a “bro” while showing you how fast he can make him cum with just his palm. seungmin doesn’t really care about the dynamics or whatnot. he doesn’t even care if he gets noisy or messy with making out, sucking the other off, or even fucking him in front of you; he’ll show you all that you want and more.

hyunjin — doesn’t give a fuck. pulls the other person’s face close to his. locks their head into a tilt towards your direction with a tight grip of his fingers, but it softens the moment you praise him for it. he cares only about making the show as pleasing to you as possible. hyunjin will be rough on the other’s lips if he needs to be, but he’ll slow down once you tell him to. he gets off, you get off, the other gets off; and you all look pretty while doing it.

changbin — a natural slut and not really timid, but he’s mistaken for such from how quiet he is. in reality, he’s just calculated; he’ll put on a show specifically for the both of you. he’d pull in the other in a slow, steady strip, followed by swallowed kisses, all leading up to him going down on the other’s balls. he’s always checking if you’re enjoying it as much as he is. somehow, even under his submission to you, he smirks proudly every time he elicits a reaction out of the other person, showing you his work.

jeongin — he would probably be shy at first but all shame leaves him as soon as the first kiss hits. his hands would roam freely around his friend until they find each other’s cocks. he turns to you the most though, eyes begging for validation with every step of the way. jeongin’s especially slutty when the other’s about to cum, because he’s gonna cum with him — if he hadn’t cum first yet.

felix — it should be nothing to him, theoretically, since he’s so used to kissing you and his other members in both platonic, romantic, and sexual contexts. even so, presented the opportunity, his nervous system seems to restart as soon as he’s in this situation. his cock strains against his pants as he yearns to be touched by the other while you’re staring at him. shame only dissipates when he gets teary-eyed, begging to be touched.

han jisung — gets embarrassed that you’re even telling him to kiss the other person in front of you. it doesn’t matter how much you’ve all been fucking each other, he still gets beet red at the prospect of it. the idea spurs him on, don’t get it twisted, but he gets so dizzy even if his own arms are at work stripping the other off their clothes. gets massively horny after just one slip of the other’s tongue.

bang chan — he’s so shy about it. he’s shy even being in front of you, what more with someone else and you? he can’t handle it, but somehow, his hands express how needy he is inside. chan has little to no control over how his throat releases the whimpers he tries to bite back, or how his fingers search for the nipples of his other, or how his knees fold until he’s eye-level with the other’s cock. even then, he shies away, burying his face into the other’s skin.

LEAST SLUTTIEST

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!stray kids #sub!bang chan #sub!chan #sub!lee know #sub!minho #sub!changbin #sub!hyunjin #sub!han jisung #sub!jisung #sub!felix #sub!seungmin #sub!jeongin #💌 ipeginbox #<3 a lovely anon #💬 z is writimg