✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — you know as soon as you get out of bed, satoru isn’t going to be far behind you, especially when you’re draped in his shirt.
ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, insatiable satoru :3, mostly teasing, some morning scenes as he tries to drag you back to bed, you’re in his shirt, he lifts you up at the end. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i am so very obsessed + crazed, i can’t stop <3
it’s still early, barely light outside as you stand in the kitchen of your shared apartment. you’ve left your boyfriend gojo still in bed, you felt a little bad waking him up when he always looked so peaceful, probably tired out after the night he’d given you lastnight— the evidence of his efforts still burning on your skin where he’s left his mark.
but it had still been an effort to peel him off of you no matter how soundly he slept, having to pull yourself away from the warmth of his chest— his arms were like a puzzle with how tightly he wraps them around you, but you thought he’d appreciate waking up to some coffee and breakfast on his day off.
the air in the kitchen is still cold, something you’ve put down to the early morning— the roads outside are still quiet but there’s a slight breeze along your bare thighs when you move. the rest of your body is fine though, draped comfily in one of satoru’s ridiculously huge shirts, the perks of your boyfriend being over 6’3 ofcourse—plus he always payed such expensive amounts for his clothes, it was almost guaranteed they were gonna be comfy.
you giggle as you scoop a ridiculous amount of sugar into your boyfriends coffee cup, the ceramic identical to yours— his idea when he started coming over more often, but you still thought his sweet tooth was adorable.
“oh? good morning to you too, sweet thing.” your train of thought is interrupted by the smooth, still sleepy drawl as you shoot a quick glance over your shoulder to see gojo already approaching you. he couldn’t be apart from you too long afterall— it’s like his soul was tied with yours. he’s still shirtless, his hair is messy from sleep— snowy peaks framing his features while his sweatpants rest dangerously low on his hips.
“you’re awake early.” you sigh out, dreamily as you feel your boyfriends chest press against your back, his long arms circling their way around your waist from behind as he rests his head in the crook of your neck.
“mhm, how my supposed to sleep without you, hah? so cruel.” there’s a slight whine to gojo’s words, you can still hear the sleepiness in his tone but it makes you smile when it’s followed by a smeared kiss along your jawline. you roll your eyes before you lean into him, feeling his fingertips trace along the hem of your shirt, his shirt that’s hanging around your thighs before he speaks again.
“you teasin’ me?” his words are lower this time, a little more than a growl as he plays around with the fabric between his fingers— grumbling before he’s deliberately pressing his hips into you from behind. he’s close and warm, making sure you can feel the problem you left him with this morning when you got out of bed without him— straining against the fabric of his sweats.
“‘toru, it’s 8am. you’re insatiable.” you giggle out, a sweet little sound so early in the morning and it only seems to draw gojo in closer to you— smiling into his next kiss along your throat as he rolls his hips into you.
“oh, but you left me cold and alone, i think you gotta make that up to me, no?” he’s teasing you, trying to lure you back into where he wants you most— not that he wouldn’t have you anywhere, he’s already had his way with you around this whole apartment. but he wants nothing more than you between the sheets right now, wrapped up in him and the plush mattress beneath you both.
“i’m literally making you a coffee. you needed the rest.” you try to argue but you should know that gojo’s never one to back down. you feel his fingers trail slowly underneath the hem of his shirt, before he sighs with the first teasing swipe along the inside of your bare thigh, so dangerously close to your folds that you shudder. no panties either? you really were teasing him.
“hah? but i feel better than ever.” he tries to argue, oh so convincingly before he’s turning you to face him— peppering sweet, ticklish smooches along your features until you’re arms are wrapping around his shoulders and your eyes are finally on him.
“oh, i’m sure~” you grin, his crystalline gaze is sleepy as you brush your fingers through his bed head— scratching at his scalp before he’s sending you a lopsided grin, followed by a quick peck against your lips.
“got no choice. you need a demostration? let’s go, sweet thing. only one way to show you.” is all you hear from gojo before he’s suddenly got you thrown over his shoulder, and you truly forget how strong he really is until he’s handling you with such ease— holding you with one arm like you’re as light as a feather.
“satoru! what about breakfast?” not that you’re putting up much of a fight, you can basically feel the smug look that’s on his face already as he turns to drag you back to bed. you grumble, defeated but it quickly turns to a shriek when you feel your boyfriends free hand come down sharply on your ass as he chuckles.
“hm? don’t mind. i’m hungry f’ somethin’ else right now, baby.”
© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
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"Honey, I'm home!"
minotaur x fem!reader || breeding, knotting
You heard the door closing and his hooves stumping as he looked for you. He knew where you were. In the same place as every night when he got home. Dinners were on you as long as he made breakfast. Early days of marriage were all about compromise. Or that’s what everyone told you when you married. Listening intently, hyper-aware of his presence someplace behind you.
“Smells good.” He called out as you heard the bag hitting the ground someplace in the hallway.
“Stir fry.”
You let out a startled cry as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Not the food.” He whispered against your ear, grabbing your waist and pressing his whole body against you, sniffing your neck.
“What are you doing?” You asked, cutting vegetables, his body pressed against your back. Before you could even blink, he was pressing you against the counter, his erection poking at your back. “I need to make dinner.” You tried to break free of his hold, but he just pressed you harder.
“I missed you, that’s all.” He whispered next to your ear, his soft lips grazing your skin in the softest caress, making your whole body shiver.
“Missed me? You saw me this morning.” You giggled at his antics, trying to push him away. You knew full well that there was no way you could out-power him.
His solid frame against you was too heavy, too big, too imposing… He could do whatever he wanted to you and you couldn’t do anything to stop him. You should be scared, but you weren’t. Nope. You couldn’t be scared. That’s the first thing that drew you to him, his fucking size. How big he was, how his body towered over you, how his biceps were bigger than your head. Maybe you liked that. Maybe you enjoyed feeling so tiny against him. Maybe you enjoyed the feel of him picking you up and using you as he pleased. Maybe...
Lost in your horny thoughts you didn’t realize his hand was inside your panties until his fingers were playing with your clit. “I missed this pussy. My pussy.” His big fingers felt rough against your soft skin.
“Wha-?” Your voice broke with a groan when he pinches a bit too harsh, a bit too forceful. You know he did it on purpose, he could be gentle, he usually was. But him being rough to you meant one thing: your fertile days arrived, you just signed yourself for a fuck-athon. Oh dang. So you did what you could: you whimpered.
He laughed at your whine, a spark of cruelness shining through. “Don’t play coy now, pet. I can feel you dripping down my fingers.” Said fingers were probing your entrance, hovering over it until you moaned his name And then hell broke loose. He didn’t give you a heads up, he didn’t play games like that. One second you were standing pressing against the counter and the next one your clothes were ripped off you and his dick was pushing into you. Too fast, too harsh, not letting you adapt to his size. He was in for one thing and one thing only: breed you.
His dick was so deep and so hard that you could feel every ridge, every vein. It felt like the most amazing torture, the sweetest death. In seconds, you were not a person anymore, just a toy for him to play as he wished. He grabbed your hips, bouncing you on his cock as you grabbed the counter for dear life.
“Are you gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” You whined. The combination of his shaft inside you and his fingers playing with your clit made your climax hit you like a tide wave, gasping for air as you trembled on his dick.
But that didn’t stop him, you were his to play and his to fuck.
“That’s it. Good girl. Again.” His fingers were still playing with your oversensitive clit, in the good side of too painful. Your pleasure felt raw, your throat spent, not a single sound coming out of you. “One more, pet. Give me one more.” You complied. But that wasn’t enough.
Your bull of a husband kept fucking you, not stopping for a second. His labored breaths making you hotter. His moans making you wetter (if that was even possible). His pace was brutal, and you didn’t know what was up and what was down. Your body was completely spent as he used you as his own personal fleshlight. You kept coming, and coming, and coming… It was too much, too good.
Your brain was foggy, your body felt like jelly as he moved you up and down, your legs gave out long before he stopped. And then you felt it, the telltale sign that he was close, the bulbous knot at the base of his dick twitching against your entrance at every thrust. With a long groan, he pushed it inside of you as you screamed. Your vision went black, you went limp as he pumped you full of cum, your lower tummy bulging. His big body was pressing you down onto the counter like the biggest weighted blanket, his dick still pulsing inside of you.
“Bed.” He mumbled as he lifted you off the counter, still impaled on his dick, his knot preventing any cum from escaping.
“But dinner...” You whispered in a choked breath.
“Later.”
It was gonna be a long night.
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selfish
anthony bridgerton x reader
synopsis: it’s your first morning at home in bridgerton house as the viscountess- only thing is, your husband’s selfish
you trembled under his grip, his mouth was still working hard, your orgasm coming over you in waves as you tried to escape his grip. you shivered with pleasure, thighs squeezing his head between them. “oh my-“ you cried, struggling to keep quiet.
the honeymoon was over, no longer could you scream your viscount’s name all over the room, until your throat grew raw of it. you had a bustling family under the same roof, even so, his mother.
you shuddered slowly and anthony let go of your legs. he smiled proudly as he leaned to kiss you. you melted into his kiss, grasping at his hair.
anthony bit your lip as he tossed himself next to you. you were sitting up, and still reeling from the pleasure, “i have been trying to get up and ready for the day for what feels like forever now, and you do not let me.” you looked at your husband, his smile not going away, only as he shrugged, “i want you all to myself. my siblings will just talk your ear off and i will be drowning in paperwork.” which you knew was true. anthony was the most reluctant to get back to his viscount duties.
you on the other hand, still marveled at the idea of having to run the household, but felt immense pressure to live up to the dowager bridgerton. violet was everything you admired in a mother, present and kind, wanting her children’s happiness before all else.
anthony had told you that there was no legacy to live up to, but he did not see things the way you did.
he pulled you in close, “my mother is still here. let her run the household, even if it is for a little bit longer.” he kissed your cheek, still trying to keep you in bed. you sighed, “all you want to do is stay in bed, lord bridgerton. you need to get out of this bed, and be productive with me.” the paperwork stack was to the ceiling at this point, and he could not avoid it much longer.
anthony looked at you, “we can do many things within this room that are productive.” you shrugged at him, “the thought is lost on me, what do you suggest?”
anthony grabbed your hand gently, holding it in his, “such as making an heir, as married people do.” the thought had not even occurred to you, especially so early in the morning. you looked at your husband, smiling at that thought. you blushed as anthony chuckled, “do not tell me that did not cross your mind?” he cocked his head and you shyed away, “i have been stressed all night about the viscountess duties, forgive me if it slipped my mind.” you rolled over, legs now entangled in his and you on his chest.
you kissed him, and anthony smirked, “it is a viscountess duty.”
giving up, you decided to extend the honeymoon with anthony, not yet ready to take up the full responsibility, anthony could be selfish.
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— cute things they do unintentionally
including wriothesley, zhongli, neuvillette, diluc x gn! reader
꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, established relationship, neck kisses, lots of physical affection
— wriothesley + always walks closest to the street
in the early stages of your relationship, wriothesley has shown the first, out of the many following, indications of his overall protective nature towards you— and do not misunderstand him, because obviously he wasn't making it somewhat overbearing.
he knows you are capable of doing things on your own, but he wants to be the one who does them for you instead. it fills him with joy, and the duke finds himself squeezing his eyes shut, indulging in the memories and thoughts and hope that they would never cease to invade his newfound paradise.
so to speak, it's sort of a way to show you his love in a contrasting kind of sense other than telling you his affection through words or physical touch— with his heart-melting gestures and tender warmth, wriothesley will stop to walk for a split second before softly pulling you farthest from the street as he walks closest.
it was silly— and romantic, and there's a drop of silence before you hear him hum in merriment, his eyes sparkling like the stars.
full of feeling, your cheeks were poignant of a flaming prickle, your whole body burned like fire at his touch as you eagerly listen to what story your boyfriend was telling you about, his smile bringing you the most lustrous light when you entangle your fingers into his arm to press his frame against you.
and suddenly, your lips are tingling with the desire to kiss him, his lips as pink as pink delights. what's the sweetest part about it all was that wriothesley wasn't doing any of this intentionally— in fact, it had always come down to the way he has been all of his life, protective and sheltering, benevolent to the people closest to his heart.
— zhongli + kisses your forehead whenever you meet
"hello, my love," zhongli's face lights up the moment he sees you, and it's a lot more personal by how particularly he smiled at you— because before catching your frame in midst the busy streets of liyue, his facial features were stern and a little frozen, although when he finally finds you, he smiles and it takes away his cold instantly, a slow upturn of his mouth revealing small dimples around his sides.
"i missed you," he admits, and zhongli moves closer before capturing your cheeks in his warm palms, planting a subtle kiss on your forehead as he presses you against his chest firmly— his golden eyes bright enough to make even broken glass glow and shimmer like a treasure on its own again.
you mumble out through a chain of muffled words at the slightly tight embrace of your boyfriend, "i missed you too," and listlessly wrap your arms around his waist, "in fact, i missed you more," you tease as he presses dozen of little kisses on your head.
as much as zhongli would love to hug you for what he sought out to be eternity, he knows he cannot remain like this forever, at least not while being crowded by the people of liyue— although pondering about it more deeply, he figured that theoretically speaking, he could be able to hug you from day to night without letting you go, but people might start looking at you both so that'll be a negative and turn things uncomfortable.
"you know it's impossible for you to miss me more?" he slowly pulls you off his chest before pinching your cheek, "i long for you day and night," as his grin shines in tandem with the dancing joy of his eyes, unable to tear their focus away from you.
— neuvillette + can't stop worshipping you
after a long, arduous day consisting of responsibilities, you plopped onto the giant, comfortable bed you shared with neuvillette before you felt the mattress slightly dip under the added weight of his body as he climbs over to lean one arm around your frame.
as he does this, his face instantly burns into the nook of your neck before he begins to caress it— obviously in those moments he was content with you, starting with a handful of soft, warm kisses until he could feel you smile, or notice your body heat raise.
it's pretty clear his senses were sharp, you cannot hide anything from your boyfriend, even if you tried.
you yawn out, opening your arms for his body to properly nestle in before wrapping your limbs around his frame to keep him close, "what did i do to deserve this?" you whisper sarcastically, squeezing him a little tighter into you, "is something the matter?"
neuvillette hums deeply before smothering one hand from your chest to your hips, his lips stretching into a lazy smile, creating a swirling haven on his handsome face, "nothing at all, everything is fine," he assures you with another kiss, his hot breath fanning over the dampened skin on your neck.
basking into the comfortable engage of your arms around his frame, he continues, "i have simply missed what's mine, that is all,"
"and you deserve this," you hear him mumble, "each and every day to be admired and loved,"
he places a kiss on your shoulder, the softness of his lips compelling, "i want to give you this," as he slowly continues to slide his lips over your collarbone, full of passionate crescendos.
your skin trembles and goosebumps arise on your neck as you unwind to his skilled. tender interludes, precisely in neuvillette taking care of you, shooting you a gentle smile before he searches for your lips next.
— diluc + likes to hold your hand all the time
it doesn't matter where the both of you were or what activity you participated in, because for neither diluc nor you this was something out of the ordinary anymore and began to become a necessity— like breathing, he required your touch, and his heart fluttered every time he felt your energy invade his.
your laugh was his favorite sound and your voice was the last tune he needed to hear before he'd close his eyes, always awaiting the flicker of longing in your caress.
but before you have found each other in this relationship, the master of the dawn winery has never considered himself to be an overly touchy individual, in fact, he was everything else but pleased whenever someone would become way too comfortable with him and overstep any boundaries.
what's funny about love is that how fast it can change things in someone— beyond looks, touches or shared smiles, there were feelings that only you two were able to understand.
diluc hadn't realized how easy and effortless it can be the moment you meet your soulmate, it's transparent and pure and you cannot get enough of them, it's useless to even try and you want to feel them again and again, until their warmth swathes through your skin and intertwines like dancers in a ballet.
in the beginning, it had started with quick and easy placements of his palm on your back or around your shoulders, but after a while, diluc wanted to turn it a little more intimate— he didn't say anything or mention it to you, but one day at a silent night in mondstadt, when he looked at you, really looked at you, he held your hand, his thumb tracing your knuckles in a silent confession of love and affirmation.
to diluc ragnvindr, the act of falling in love was the acknowledgement that he was in the presence of someone so special that it aches his heart, a journey with unexpected twists and turns— for the first time and in that moment, he knew that you were deserving of love to the fullest, without holding back.
©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own
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pretty boy
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.
a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic
wc: 1.8k
warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff
You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it.
You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.
“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments.
You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.”
He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.”
“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.”
“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.
“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.”
You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him.
“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?”
“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.”
“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.”
“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says.
You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?”
“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.”
“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something.
“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.”
You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep.
“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks.
“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.”
“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity.
“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”
“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses.
“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.”
You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him.
Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—
“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly.
“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.”
You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?”
“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”
You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus.
You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel.
You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent.
And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses.
He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.
“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?”
Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?”
“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.”
“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.”
You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this.
“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.”
“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.”
“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks.
“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?”
“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves.
“That’s ridiculous.”
You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.”
“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.”
“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”
“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.”
“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.”
“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.”
“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.”
“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.”
You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.”
You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?”
“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.”
“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today.
“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?”
Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.”
“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.”
“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?”
“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.”
And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here.
You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.”
He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here.
“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head.
“You don’t need to pay me back.”
“Really?”
Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.”
“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.”
He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning.
“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says.
“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!”
“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.”
You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.”
“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.”
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