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ldrfanatic · 11 months ago

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Oh Bella

Italian!Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

synopsis - 3 times the reader teases Theo’s Italian roots + 1 time she celebrates them

cute, lazy fluff, no angst just happy vibes for a happy christmas :)

slytherin boys masterlist works

warning - internet translated Italian

(got these ideas from Ben and Fabio on instagram they’re so funny)

It wasn’t easy to date Theodore Nott. It was always rewarding but it wasn’t always easy.

For starters, Theo grew up in Italy and has one of the thickest Italian accents you’ve ever heard. There were a few times over the course of your relationship that you had to ask him to repeat himself a few times. Like when he was trying to tell you that Draco had invited you out on a double date with himself and Hermione.

You had just woken up from a nap when Theo walked into the Slytherin common room after quidditch practice. He flashed you a breath taking smile and all but skipped up to you as you rubbed your tired eyes. You felt your heart melting in your chest at the sight of your adorable boyfriend.

“Buongiorno Bella.” (good morning beautiful) Theo swooped down and delivered a soft kiss to the side of your face before plopping down next to you on the couch. “Guess what?” You hummed in response as you snuggled deep into his side.

“What’s up Theo?”

“At quidditch practice today, Draco says that you and I, we can go out double with them.”

In your tired brain, Theo’s words made even less sense. You sat up from his side and stared at him with your brows furrowed. “Huh?” Theo stared blankly back at you. He brushed a piece of your hair away from your face.

“Still asleep, Bella?”

You shook your head lightly but it didn’t convince either of you entirely. A chuckle rumbled through Theo and his chest vibrated in laughter.

“Draco says we can go double out with Herminone.”

Now it was your turn to laugh at the way Theo pronounced Hermione’s name. You’d all been friends for about two years now since she and Draco had started dating, but he still couldn’t quite pronounce her name correctly.

Finally deciphering his thick accent and slightly broken, but still cute English, realization dawned upon you. You tried to smother a smile as you stared at your boyfriend in pure adoration. “You mean he invited us to double date with them?”

Theo looked at you for a few seconds before standing up and sighing a little dramatically.

“Mio dio Bella, that’s what I said”

“Mmm of course, Theo.”

So, dating Theodore Nott was not without its challenges. But it also wasn’t without its fun.

It was Mattheo’s birthday so of course the Slytherin common room was filled to the brim with drugs, alcohol, and probably the sluttiest girls in all of Hogwarts. Theo was sitting at a table off in the corner with both of your guys’ drinks and was noticeably uncomfortable in such an environment.

You’d gone to get ice for your sex on the beach when you had a mischevious idea. You scooped a little more ice into the cup and started making your way back to Theo.

You caught sight of Mattheo what was sitting on one of the large couches dead center in the room. He had three girls all over him right now and Lorenzo was giggling uncontrollably as he passed him a joint. Mattheo caught your eye and winked playfully. He liked to flirt with you to rile Theo up a little bit every once in a while.

You finally made it back to your table where Theo was swirling a deep red wine in a glass. His lips quirked up in a small smile as you took your seat next to him. Without speaking, he reached out and pulled your chair impossibly closer to his before throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Ciao Bella.”

Your entire body bloomed at the sound of his thick accent over his husky voice. Warmth settled over you like a fluffy blanket on a snowy morning.

“Ciao Theo.”

The surprise on Theo’s face was more than enough to make you happy that you’d taken up Italian recently. You practiced with Lorenzo in some of your free time and he was a pretty good teacher. You made eye contact with Theo and winked before settling into his side.

Theo immediately became suspicious as you were known for your antics.

“What are you up to Il mio piccolo piantagrane, hm?” (my little troublemaker)

“Nothing Theo, relax.”

He stared at you suspiciously for a few seconds before his body finally loosened.

The opportunity was too great to miss.

You leaned over both of your drinks and dumped ice into your sex on the beach before then dropping a few ice cubes into Theo’s wine.

His reaction was nearly instantaneous.

“Oh! Bella, no! No, no, no!” His lips turned up in disgust and multiple muted expressions left his mouth in what you assumed were Italian swears.

“Che diavolo? Ghiaccio nel vino? No! Il vino è sacro.”

(what the hell? ice in wine? no! wine is sacred.)

A large hand came and ran through his messy curls and the laugh you’d been surprising burst suddenly from your chest. Theo’s eyes snapped to yours and you recognized the mischievous glint.

A squeal left your mouth as you leapt up from your seat and took off around the common room with him hot on your tail.

The second time that you decided to make your poor sweet Italian boyfriend question all decisions to be with you was at dinner one night. You weren’t intentionally teasing him at first as you stared down at your empty plate trying to think of what you wanted.

You glanced over to Theo’s plate next to you and saw a mouthwatering pasta that he’d conjured. You tugged gently on the sleeve of his green sweater and his attention found yours immediately.

“What’s wrong, bellissima?”

“Can you get me some of that, please Theo?”

“Of course.”

He took your plate in his hands and after a few seconds his dish was sitting in front of you. You noted how he made sure there were no tomatoes in yours like there were in his. Theo knew you hated tomatoes. It was so sweet it almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do to his little Italian heart.

Almost.

Theo picked up his fork and started to dig into his food before he stopped abruptly. Lorenzo too stopped eating his own food and the pair stared at you incredulously as you shoveled the pasta into your mouth.

“Oh Bella.”

He seemed more horrified than anything else. You loaded more food into your mouth being careful to eat as much as a lady as you could.

“No.” You stared at him blankly with a sheepish look before resuming your meal. “Bella, no. Twirl. Like this,” Theo picked up his fork and expertly swirled the noodles around before bringing it up to his mouth.

You offered him a gentle grin before promptly resuming what you were doing before. From across the table Lorenzo started whisper screaming at Theo in Italian.

“Theo, Cosa c'è che non va nella tua ragazza? Lei mangia la pasta come una bambina!” (what’s wrong with your girlfriend? she eats pasta like a child!)

Theo stared at you astounded as redness crept up his face. Then it finally dawned on him that you were teasing.

“Bella per favoreee.” He dragged out his words with a small smile on his face at your teasing. You both knew that you knew the proper way to eat pasta.

“No more teasing love.” You nodded through your giggles and Theo wrapped a thick arm around your waist and pulled you into his side.

So, you knew that you promised Theo no more teasing last week but when you overheard him and Lorenzo complaining earlier in the most adorable stuttered English you couldn’t help yourself. You were walking down towards the common room to get lunch with the boys.

Theo, Lorenzo, and Mattheo were sitting in the common room all having a discussion. Suddenly you heard your boyfriend’s sweet Italian symphony of a voice shift into one of astonishment. You peeked around the corner and saw both him and Lorenzo staring at Mattheo like he’d just said the most offensive thing ever.

“What do you mean you have the cappuccino in the afternoon, huh?” His fingers came to rub at his temples and you had to stifle your laugh behind your hand. “Puah! cappuccino è solo per la mattina.” (Cappuccino is only for the morning).

Mattheo stared blankly at the two. Finally you decided to step in before the vein in Theo’s forehead burst.

“Theo? I’m ready.”

By the time that you made it to the Great Hall, the boys seemed to have forgotten about their earlier conversation. Mattheo walked quietly in step next to you while Theo and Lorenzo conversed in Italian so quickly your head was spinning.

“Psst. Y/n I have an idea on how to make that little Italian boy of yours blow a fuse.”

(“Maledizione Lorenzo, non credi che se sapessi cosa regalarle non andrei fuori di testa?”)

You cursed yourself that you couldn’t understand what they were saying. After staring at the side of Theo’s handsome face for a few moments longer you let out a disgruntled noise and turned to Mattheo.

“Fine! What?”

And that was how you found yourself in this situation.

Trying your absolute hardest to keep a straight face without looking at Theo at all while you sipped on your cappuccino that you’d conjured in your cup.

“Oh Bella.”

Theo’s familiar distressed tone rang out from next to you. “You cannot be series, amore mio.”

“Do you mean serious, Theo?” Mattheo chimed in with an amused smirk.

Theo made a dismissive Italian noise and waved Mattheo off. He swore under his breath before grabbing the side of your face and turning it to him. “Bellissima, it is too late for a cappuccino!”

You smirked up at your distraught boyfriend and pressed a quick kiss to the softness of his cheek. “I know, amore.”

Theo stared at you before throwing his hands up in the air and turning back towards his lunch. Mattheo’s deep laugh burst out and you couldn’t help yourself but to laugh along with him.

You were so busy laughing you hadn’t noticed that Theo was staring at you with a smile. He was so very in love with you.

+ one time you celebrated Theo’s Italian roots

April 25th was meant to be celebratory. La Festa della Resistenza. And Theodore Nott was stuck at quidditch practice.

Meanwhile, you were scurrying around the common room with Lorenzo trying to set up the perfect surprise for Theo. With Italy’s Liberation Day approaching, you’d noticed Theo had been a little down lately. You knew that it was because he was missing his family.

Normally, his mother would prepare a big feast and the family would sing the song of the resistance, Bella Ciao. You’d taken a floo to his home in Italy and gotten some recipes from his mother directly, all his favorites. And now, you were trying desperately to teach a group of first year Slytherins how to sing the song that you’d been practicing for weeks.

You sighed deeply as you realized the little buggers you bribed with a few galleons each were not at all going to get the song down in time. You conjured your purse and shelled out a few galleons to each child before shooing them out of the common room.

By the time Theo got back from quidditch practice, everything was perfect. You were standing in the center of the room in a deep red dress that you knew was his favorite. When he saw the spread, Theo thought his heart might stop. You looked nothing short of stunning.

“Oh Bella.”

It didn’t hold any of the distress that it normally did. This time his tone was thick with adoration. Theo felt a lump moving up his throat that caught tears behind his eyes. His heart clenched in his chest. This was one of the most thoughtful things that anyone had ever done for him.

Just when he was certain you couldn’t get anymore perfect, your sweet voice rang out in an impossibly beautiful symphony that rivaled Pavarotti.

“Una mattina mi sono alzato

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

Una mattina mi sono alzato

E ho trovato l'invasor.”

Theo held you closer to his chest and pressed his forehead against yours as he joined for the next verse.

“O partigiano, portami via

O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao

O partigiano, portami via

Che mi sento di morir.”

The two of you swayed as Lorenzo joined and the three of you sang the rest of the song together. When you finished, you all made plates and sat down in the common room.

“When did you learn all of this, Bella?”

You smiled gently at Theo while he stared at you like you were the most perfect being in the world.

“I took a trip to Italy to see your mother a little bit ago. She told me about La Festa della Resistenza the Celebration of the Resistance. She talked about how important it was to Italy’s history and that it marked the Resistance victory in the Italian Civil War. Then when I saw how sad you were to be away from home at this time I knew I had to do something.”

In that moment, Theo knew that there wasn’t anybody he’d ever loved as much as he loved you. He took your face in both of his hands and pressed a deep kiss to your lips.

“This is perfect, bellissima, thank you so much.”

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire #Italian Theodore Nott #slytherin boys x reader

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monamipencil · 3 months ago

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telling them that you have a crush on them !

pairings; hiphop unit x reader, established relationship. | a/n; random thoughts + plus this was a cute idea <3

౨ৎ SEUNGCHEOL !

“we need to talk.” seungcheol was initially scared by your sudden statement. he even needed to calm himself before navigating through whatever it is that bothered you.

he wanted to hold your hands as well, incase it makes it any better for you but you denied. “I have a crush on—” his mind goes blank, hearing the words fall from your lips. an instant jealousy courses through his blood and he visiby tenses till he hears your next words.

“on you.” you confess with a innocent smile and try not to laugh as seungcheol stares blankly, unable to process anything. “wait, what?” laughter shakes your body when the realisation dawns upon your boyfriends who also giggles shyly.

but he gets mad soon after and refuses to talk to you, till you give him enough kisses to last a life time.

౨ৎ WONWOO !

he sees it coming a mile away but plays along. he tries his hardest to suppress the smile that crawls on his face.

“soo, i have a crush,” you start in an almost shy tone which makes wonwoo’s lip quiver but he controls himself and hums. he notices you watching him, as if you’re carefully drinking in every detail of his visage.

he casts his head down, scratching his nape when he sees a small pout sit on your lips. he looks up, “yeah? who?” you smile widely at him, happy with his attention.

“it’s uhm, nevermind. it’s stupid.” he smirks, having caught you with a hook.

“you sure? you know, i have a crush on someone too.” your eyes snap to his, trying to find out if he's lying. then, it's a game of you trying to get the name from him and him from you.

“fine. i give up. i have a crush on you.” his hands fly to wrap around your waist. he holds your sulking figure and rubs his nose against your cheek in a loving manner. “i think it's fate, 'cause i have a crush on you too.”

౨ৎ MINGYU !

“what?” “i have a crush on someone.” a frown decorates his lips and he stares at you with furrowed eyebrows. why would you have a crush on someone when he’s right there?

he tries to laugh it, finding it ridiculous. but, he finds you staring deadpan at him. he tongues his cheek and asks who is it while hiding his hurt behind an annoyed smirk.

“i have a crush on you.” blinks once, twice and thrice before realising he got played. he closes his eyes, happy and annoyed with you at the same time.

“you find this funny?” he asks, eyeing your laughing figure with faux annoyed expression.

you hug him tightly, and he chuckles when he hears your muffled voice, “god, i love you so much.” he smiles, and grumbles an ‘i love you too’ back to you.

౨ৎ VERNON !

“nonu,” you call his name, to which he responds by turning to look at you with those innocent eyes. (this is the third time you're calling him, actually. he didn't hear you the first two times.)

“yeah?” he asks, reaching out his hand to hold yours. you interlock your fingers with him, and he draws circles on the back of your hand.

“i have a crush.”

he raises a lone eyebrow at you, trying to figure you out. he stops the movement of his thumb but his hand is still placed with yours. “really? on who?” he eyes you up and down. and you maybe regret your decisions now, feeling the blood rise to your cheeks.

“wait, i think i know. seungkwan?”

“why the fuck would i have a crush on your best friend?”

“i don't know. seems like a natural choice.”

he lists a bunch of names, only for you to shake your head. he rests his hand underneath his chin, deep in thought. suddenly, a light bulb lights up above his head. “hugh jackman! right?!”

“no! it's you, idiot.” he lets out a small ‘oh’ sound and you see a sliver of smile flicker on his lips. his cheeks turn a rosy pink and before you know you both are laughing. his hand intertwines back with yours but he's rather shy now with a seemingly permanent smile on his face.

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys @embrace-themagic

@aaniag @nurihihi (send an ask to be on the taglist!)

#svt fluff #svt reactions #svthub #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen reactions #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #seungcheol fluff #mingyu fluff #wonwoo fluff #vernon fluff

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leftmysoulbythesideoftheroad · 2 years ago

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my favorite sims npc is Summer Holliday. she’s so pretty and her name is so cute i could die. so i had my sim marry her and take her last name, and they had two daughters: Winter Holiday and Autumn Holiday. all very cute and adorable.

well they had a third child. i had not anticipated how hard it would be to name this kid because “spring” sounds awful but nothing else fits the naming convention. i finally settled on April but then the baby was born and he’s a boy, so. anyway his name is Dawn and my household is ruined

#the sims 4 #tbf my guy’s name is enzo #but they were just so cute #summer winter and autumn holiday #winter would work for a boys name too but i already gave that to his sister and i don’t want to change it now #winter is outgoing and girly autumn is more butch and favors dark colors and dawn is going to be the sensitive artist type #and we all live in a very haunted house #i killed vlad two landgraabs and two goths and built a graveyard #winter is going to befriend all the ghosts because it’s so cute #(moving those people in is also how enzo became incredibly wealthy)

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candylix · 7 months ago

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blow my mind | bang chan

Pairing • Chan x GN!Reader Summary • You have a test today and you haven't studied at all, but you're not worried. Why? Because you have the ability to read minds, and you'll be sitting next to the smartest guy in class. Unfortunately, his thoughts have strayed from the test and into very dirty territory. Genre • college au, smut, fluff WC • 1.7k Content • no pronouns used but reader does have a vagina, mind reading, dirty thoughts about: hand holding 🥰, public sex, fingering, dry humping, unprotected piv penetration, orgasm denial. Indented paragraphs indicate what's happening in his mind and not real life.

Ethically, reading minds is a very dubious subject. As far as you know, you're the only person in the world with supernatural abilities. No one would ever know you're reading their mind, but you have high enough standards for yourself to only use your mind reading capabilities in emergencies.

This was an emergency.

You have a test today, and didn't study. But, you do have a plan. You are going to sit beside one of your classmates and cheat.

You walk into the lecture hall, and scan the room. The class is arranged with tier seating and long tables, and as you work your eyes around the room, you spot him at the very top. You've had a few projects with Chan before, so you know how intelligent he is. You've talked a lot more over the course of the semester, so it wouldn't be weird to sit beside him.

"Ready for the test?" you ask, approaching the table he's sitting at.

He looks up at you and smiles.

"I hope so, I've been cramming all night for this. You?"

"Nope." You grin and give him a thumbs up, pulling out the chair next to him and taking a seat.

"Glad to see you're confident," he laughs.

The rest of the class trudges in, and the test begins.

First thing you write is your name. Easy enough.

You concentrate on Chan, and peer into his mind. He's reading the first question, and after a few minutes of words formulating in his brain, he writes down an answer. You always found it interesting to see how different people think, and Chan's thoughts are muddied as he tries to answer the questions. But when he figures out an answer, everything comes into total focus.

You rewrite his answers on your paper, making sure to use different words. As much as you dislike doing it, this isn't your first time cheating on a test like this, so you know how to not get caught.

A particularly tricky question is next, and you can see his thoughts wander from the test, to the class, to... you. You see yourself in his imagination.

He's daydreaming. This is not good, you need him to focus on the test.

You think about tuning into someone else's mind, but you're captured by what he imagines.

He reaches out his hand, gently placing it over yours. He squeezes it lightly.

You have to look at your hand to make sure it wasn't real. His imagination is extremely vivid. You see movement out of the corner of your eye, which turns out to be Chan shaking his head. Just like that, the image disappears and he's back to thinking about the question.

What was that?

You don't have time to ponder what that could mean when he starts writing down his answer, and you have to quickly catch up to him before he stops thinking about it.

The next question also seems to be giving him trouble, because he stops to think about it for a long time. Eventually, he drifts off into another daydream. He imagines the classroom again, and himself scooting his chair next to you. The version of you in his imagination rests your head on his shoulder. It's very cute, all things considered.

Then it dawns on you. He has a crush on you.

Well isn't that just adorable. It would be cuter if he would just get back to the test before you both fail.

He turns his head to look at you, resting peacefully on his shoulder. He smiles and leans in to kiss you.

Your fingers instinctively brush your lips. It's not rare for people to have vivid sensory imaginations, but you almost never get a tactile experience from your power. He must be imagining the feeling of touching you, enough that you feel it through him.

If only he had Aphantasia, and not the worlds strongest imagination. You don't think either of you will be passing this test.

He moves his hand from on top of yours to caressing your thigh. Then, it moves closer to the waistband of your pants-

You cough loudly, breaking his focus. The image disappears in an instant. You see the muddied words coming back, and he's finally thinking about the test again.

You can feel heat rising to your cheeks. Was he imagining what you think he was imagining?

He has been stuck on this question for a while, so you probably wont find anyone else in class who's still working on it. And even if you could, you'd have to check the minds of the entire class. You're stuck peeping in Chan's mind if you want to possibly pass the test.

It's feels a bit strange to be the subject of Chan's romantic fantasies, but not in a bad way. He's handsome, kind, smart, funny in an awkward kind of way that you've always found charming...

You've never thought about him that way before. But knowing how he feels, you'll definitely be thinking about him now.

You realize you're starting to drift off the same way Chan was, and go back to concentrating on your cheating scheme.

Luckily, he's focused on the right subject now, and he flies through the answers. He's almost too fast, and you have to leave some answers half done in order to keep pace. Hopefully you'll still get half a mark for those ones.

You're on the last question now. He takes some time to read and reread the question, and when he starts to think of an answer, he goes back and reads the question one more time. You're worried, the tricky questions are when he starts to nod off.

He rests his head on his hand and his mind wanders back to his imagination. At this point, you think you should just try to answer the question yourself, but your mind freezes when he continues where he left off.

His hand moves up your thigh, and between your legs. He rubs you over the fabric of your pants, but the friction is enough to feel your core start to pulse. You start moaning involuntarily, and Chan smirks to himself. 'Quiet, we're still in class' he whispers. He pretends to keep writing with one hand, while the other slips into your pants. You're not wearing underwear, so he can easily move his fingers to circle your clit. You cover your mouth with your fist to stifle a moan. The pace is slow, but you're able to pretend to be working while he works his fingers. You find yourself mindlessly rocking into him. He increases his speed, and you feel your orgasm building while you try to suppress another moan. Your head leans back as you buck into his hand, and you feel yourself about to- Suddenly, his fingers stop. Your core is still throbbing, but he takes his hand out of your pants. You look at him pleadingly, and he pats his lap for you to sit on. You look around the classroom. Everyone is too focused on their tests to notice you getting up. You stand to straddle him, and before you can sit down, he unbuttons your pants and pulls them down. If anyone turned around to look, they would see him groping your ass. He guides you down to sit on his lap, and you feel his bulge prodding against your folds. "Finish yourself on me," he whispers. You try to turn your head to see if anyone's watching, but he stops you. "Just look at me. Don't worry about anyone else." Nervously, you rub yourself on his bulge, and even under the fabric you can feel how hard he is. When you feel your orgasm building up again, you forget about the possibility of anyone seeing and hump him harder. His clothed dick against your bare cunt clouds your mind, and you try to get as much friction against him as you can. You buck into him faster, and you feel him getting harder as he starts to rock against you. You feel yourself about to cum again, but he lifts you up onto the desk and lays you on your back. "Chan, please," you whine. You can't take this anymore, and you rub your legs together to feel any sort of release. He pulls your legs apart, opening your soaking wet pussy to the world. Before you can even complain, his pants are down, and his massive cock is throbbing against your entrance. He easily slides himself into you, and you feel him moving up your walls. He fills you up completely, staying there for a moment before pulling out and slamming himself right back in. He rams into you, hitting your sweet spot. His hand is back on your clit, rubbing circles while he continues his ruthless pace with his cock pounding in and out of your throbbing core. He slams into you faster and faster as he chases his own high, losing control as his body acts on instinct. You're almost at your limit, and you feel your orgasm about to peak-

"Time's up everyone! Turn in your tests," the professor announces to the class.

You feel your core pulsing as you snap back to reality. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest, and you realize none of that was real, despite it being incredibly vivid. Somehow, you lost yourself in his fantasy.

You look over to Chan, and notice his erection as he quickly writes something down for the last question. You look back to your own test, and see the empty space where you should've wrote your answer. You have no idea what to write. You don't even remember what the question was.

All you remember was Chan pounding into you at a brutal pace.

You look back to Chan as he stands, and when he makes eye contact, his cheeks turn red and he looks away. He hurriedly stuffs all his things into his bag and speed walks down the steps.

If you want to pass this class, you can never sit next to him again. You definitely should never read his mind again.

However... you do want to know what else he's thinking about when you're near him.

And you really want to know what he's like outside of his imagination.

EPILOGUE:

Two weeks later, your test scores are posted to the schools website. You click on the link to see how you did. As it loads in, you wait with baited breath.

You failed the test.

A/N: I hope someone went to look up what Aphantasia was, and suddenly everything made sense in their life when they realized they have it. And they have to live their life knowing that an incredibly important part of their worldview and way of thinking was discovered by reading a kpop x reader smut fic.

read part two here!

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan #chan smut #chan x reader #chan x reader smut

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bestofmultiverse · 23 days ago

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Between the pages

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

"People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is 'you're safe with me'- that's intimacy."

- Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling she might be hallucinating.

One drink had turned into three, and it wasn’t even 9 p.m. yet. She’d slipped away from her friends at the bar near her office, brushing off their nagging with a vague excuse. Her first instinct had been to stumble into the little bookstore around the corner—a place she’d been meaning to check out since she started her job at the publishing house.

Half an hour later, she was wandering the aisles, muttering sarcastic comments under her breath about the uninspired titles her boss had decided to publish. That’s when she noticed someone standing nearby: a tall brunette who was watching her with an amused smile, eyes sparkling as if she’d overheard every word.

Something about this woman seemed familiar, but in her tipsy haze, y/n couldn’t quite place why. She was fairly certain they hadn’t hooked up before… probably. She figured she’d remember someone with a face like that.

The brunette noticed her staring and grinned. “That book’s terrible,” she said, gesturing to the one in y/n’s hand.

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it. The author’s an ass, too,” y/n replied without thinking, the alcohol giving her a boldness she usually lacked.

The woman laughed, a sound that was low and warm. “Sounds like you’ve got stories.”

“Not to be weird, but… do we know each other?” y/n asked, squinting as if that might help her remember.

The brunette chuckled. “I just have one of those faces. Don’t sweat it, baby.”

The pet name made y/n’s heart skip a beat. This woman was gorgeous, and her presence was disarming. Not to mention, y/n was tipsy in a bookstore—probably not the best state to be meeting someone like this.

The woman nodded toward the shelves. “Got any recommendations? You look like someone who knows good books.”

Y/n smirked, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, now you sound like my boss.” She glanced at the shelves. “What are you looking for? A certain genre?”

The brunette’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer than expected. “Something captivating. Sapphic.”

Her smirk didn’t go unnoticed, and y/n felt her cheeks warm. “Evelyn Hugo, then,” she managed, trying not to sound flustered.

The woman picked up the book, barely glancing at the cover. “Good enough for me,” she said with a grin.

“You’re not even going to read the back?” y/n asked, amused.

“Nope.” The brunette’s lips popped on the ‘p,’ and y/n’s eyes lingered there for a second too long.

The woman’s gaze didn’t waver. “Want to grab a bite and tell me about it?”

A short while later, they were seated in a booth at y/n’s favorite low-key bar.

“So you really don’t recognize me?” the woman asked, a teasing glint in her eye.

Y/n stammered, laughing nervously. “Should I?”

The woman chuckled. “Relax. We haven’t hooked up or anything like that.”

“Oh,” y/n replied, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“I’m an actress,” the woman explained with a smirk, watching y/n’s face as recognition started to dawn.

“Oh… oh my god,” y/n breathed, eyes wide. “You’re Aubrey Plaza.”

Aubrey smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Yep. You finally got there.”

“I am so sorry. I’m just… a little starstruck,” y/n admitted, cheeks burning.

“It’s cute,” Aubrey said with a shrug. “So… you’re a Marvel fan?”

Y/n laughed. “Guilty. Also a dumbass, apparently.”

Aubrey leaned back, amused. “Maybe, but it’s working for you.”

A blush stole over y/n’s face, and she changed the subject before Aubrey could tease her any further. “So, what are you drinking?” she asked.

Aubrey considered for a moment. “An Old Fashioned, I think.”

Y/n nodded and called over the waitress, who looked mildly amused as she took their order, including a pepperoni pizza to share. As the waitress walked away, Aubrey observed, “She seems to know you well.”

“Yeah, she’s used to my friends coming in here every other day,” y/n explained.

Conversation flowed easily, becoming more relaxed with each passing minute. Y/n found herself laughing at Aubrey’s dry humor, and as her initial anxiety faded, she realized she genuinely enjoyed Aubrey’s company. Hours flew by, and as midnight approached, they decided on a late-night walk in the nearby park.

Bundled up against the night chill, their cheeks flushed from the drinks, they walked side by side, laughing about random topics and sharing stories. Eventually, they called a cab, squeezing into the back seat, Aubrey’s arm casually resting around y/n’s shoulder.

At y/n’s door, she hesitated, nerves starting to creep back in. Aubrey seemed to notice and gave her a soft smile.

“I can feel you overthinking from here. Relax,” she teased, sinking into the couch as soon as they walked in.

Y/n laughed, joining her. Aubrey pulled out the book she’d bought. “Wanna read it together?”

Y/n grinned. “I’ll make us some tea.”

They settled into the couch, Aubrey reading aloud while y/n curled up beside her, head resting in Aubrey’s lap. There was a quiet, comfortable intimacy between them that didn’t need words. Aubrey’s fingers absentmindedly played with y/n’s hair as she read the love story of Evelyn Hugo, and gradually, both of them drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Part 2 • part 3 • 4 • 5

#i did a thing #aubrey plaza #sapphic #rio vidal #aubrey plaza x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha x rio

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yolli-es · 12 days ago

Note

you should do jinx giving reader a tattoo of her name 🙏

That's much better, isn't it?

Tags: possessive, jealousy, manipulation.

You are so active omg, is it because of season 2? I also have to say that this is quite proprietary and reminds me of a Yandere!Jinx.

This is starting to get annoying. Everything was going so well, and now?

Usually, you were always closely connected to each other, not just emotionally. It was so long and constant that it became an unspoken rule of Zaun. You've done many things, from having dinner together to revolution.

But now you've suddenly started going out "on business" too often. How could Jinx not worry?

Jinx followed yours next time. It's only for your safety, of course. A couple of hours, and she saw the root of the problem—the weird girl you were discussing with. A small, about 20 years old. It was annoying that she caught your attention like that. Weird, painful, and absolutely unbearable. It took all of Jinx's strength to contain herself. These meetings continued, and, in fact, there was nothing too close about them. On the contrary, you kept your distance and spoke absolutely calmly. Which could not be said about this girl. She was strangely leaning towards you, constantly fixing her hair and trying to touch you all the time. Jinx was really nervous, waiting for the right moment to ruin everything.

The moment when you give in to her.

This did not happen, and the truth came to light.

Luckily, it was much more prosaic. You were sneaking off to meet a jeweler for a cute hair clip. It was a gift for Jinx for your third anniversary. With all the running around, she forgot about it. How awkward...

"So... this is for me, huh? It's very beautiful," her fingers slid over the chilling metal of the small pin. The shape of the curved cross suited her. She didn't know what kind of metal it was, but it shimmered blue and pink in the light, remaining chillingly black in the shadows. Beautiful.

"Cool, huh? I had to work hard to get this, but... whatever. It was worth it." You seemed happier than Jinx herself, leaning over in front of her as you picked up her right braid and wondered where to put it, "It might not be very practical, but I'm sure it's really cute. Don't worry if it gets lost, okay?"

You finally looked at your girlfriend and understood her mood. She shrank, looking tensely at the floor and picking at her pants with her nails. Stuck in her dark thoughts right now. However, having anticipated your next move, Jinx spoke up: "I have a gift for you too." It suddenly dawned on her; her eyes lit up, and her back straightened. Jinx was ready to flare up with impatience. "M.. yeah? I'm so glad it is. I like it already, trust me," you giggled, sitting down next to Jinx as she grabbed your hands in anticipation. The hairpin would wait on the table for now. "Oh, something unusual," Jinx sat you down with your back to her, stood up, and rushed over to a huge box of art supplies.

You sat quietly, expecting something like a painting or a painted gun. The same one you got last time. Two is better than one!

Jinx will always be unpredictable.

When the noise became more than an explanation, you finally turned around. There was a small table behind you with colorful bottles on it and... a tattoo machine? This can't be.

"Ta-dam!" Jinx sat down on a chair on one side of the table, gesturing for you to sit opposite. "What? Wait, wait, you want to give me a tattoo?" Your voice wavered. You loved Jinx and trusted her in many ways, but let her give you a tattoo? "Oh, come on!" Jinx rolled her eyes, slamming her head down on the table, "You think I can't do it? Don't tell me you didn't check out my tattoos. I got them myself, you know!"

This didn't give you any confidence.

"No, you know... I just don't know what kind of tattoo I want," you turned away, shrugging awkwardly. Jinx chuckled, propping her head up in her hands and licking her lips. "I already decided, toots. What could be cooler than your girlfriend's name, hm?", Her voice sounded confident. So you didn't take it as a joke. However, Jinx didn't let you answer, grabbing your hands and not very carefully sitting you down opposite. "You know, I saw you with that girl... I was worried," she started slowly and from a distance. "You did nothing wrong, and I didn't doubt you. And yet, people are very tricky," she paused, gently taking your hand and looking into your eyes, "So I would like you to have a small tattoo; how about you? I promise it will look stylish." That stumped you for a minute. Yes, you wanted your tattoo, and yes, you love Jinx. But getting one for that reason? "Please," Jinx looked at you with her doe eyes, and that huskiness in her voice was driving you crazy. "Oh, maybe just one, huh? A small one," you chuckled.

Of course, Jinx was manipulating you for what she wanted. In the most childish and stupid way, you just couldn't help but sneer. Was it a double game, and Jinx knew about your understanding from the start? It doesn't matter; She has already started working.

Pink is the most beautiful color, isn't it?

Despite her obviously selfish desire and rather daring start, Jinx did everything carefully. After all, it was your first time doing it, and she couldn't make you feel anything other than excitement and admiration. She was spinning around you, unable to sit still, turning on music, telling all sorts of nonsense, and taking breaks to relax. She just didn't want to make things worse than she probably already did.

It all ended quickly.

"That's much better, isn't it?", Jinx couldn't help but smile as she looked at the fresh tattoo on your skin. "You look your best, as always, toots." You liked it no less; it actually looked sweet. And very possessive. You liked this display of her love; this affection gave you a strange strength.

You smiled as you took her hand and said with a deliberately innocent look, "Okay, now it's your turn."

The problem is that you love her no less.

Still, there is not a word about yandere in the request, so she's just super jealous and possessive. I hope that the person who asked was thinking about something like this 🙌🏻

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane jinx #arcane jinx x reader #jinx arcane #jinx x fem!reader #arcane #arcane headcanon #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix

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tinyluvs · 1 year ago

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Being spencer’s girlfriend and meeting the team for the first time? I think it would be cute!!!! 🫶🏻

it WOULD be super cute! thank you so much! i got huge sibling vibes from the team while writing this so hope that’s okay too!

the tray holding yours and your boyfriends coffee wobbles slightly in your hand as the elevator doors ping open, giving you full view of the bau offices, your eyes widening when you realise just how big it was

caught up with staring you almost forget to actually step out of the elevator, the doors sliding shut just as you manage to pass through them, somehow keeping hold of the coffee's as you do

suddenly it dawns on you that you don't really know where to find spencer. big glass doors separate you from the offices and people whizz up and down the hallway behind you, none of them paying the slightest bit of attention to you

you use your shoulder to push the doors open just enough to squeeze through and when you turn you realise the office is mostly empty, a few people sat at desks but luckily, spencer is there too, stood by what you assume is his desk, looking down at a chess board

"hi," you greet him quietly as you walk up to him, your voice muffled by your, his, scarf that's snug around your neck, "spence," you say slightly louder when he doesn't acknowledge you

he turns, looking thoroughly confused, his features softening when he notices you just feet away from him, "hey honey, what are you doing here?" he asks, rushing to take the small tray of coffee out of your hands before you drop it

pulling at the scarf you start unraveling it from around your front, "well you forgot your lunch, so i was going to bring it but then i also forgot it," you explain, cheeks reddening, "so instead i got pastries and coffee" you finish, waving a paper bag in his direction with a smile

spencer chuckles at you, "thank you," he wraps an arm around you, pulling you in, his lips pressing against your forehead, "is it snowing outside?" he asks, pulling away, his eyes darting to the window and then back at you

"how'd you know?" you question, head titling slightly

gentle fingers push your baby hairs back, "you have snow in your hair sweetheart," he says softly, his fingers dropping to wrap around your wrist, pulling you into the small space by his desk, "here, sit" he reaches over to grab an empty wheelie chair from the desk next to his

with a soft sigh you fall back into the seat, it rolls back slightly, the back hitting the edge of the desk, "where is everyone?" you ask, watching your boyfriend sit directly in front of you, your knees bumping his

"uh," he looks around while you pull pastries from the bag, "they must all be on lunch" he comes to a conclusion with a slight shrug, "it's never usually this quiet"

you slide the bag over to him and pull your knees up to your chest before balancing your croissant on your knee while you turn to grab your coffee, making sure you have the one with less sugar in it

slowly your chair starts to spin, spencer's eyes widening slightly as it does. he shuffles closer, extending his legs either side of you, holding you in place, "where did you get these?" he asks, eyeing up his apricot danish which already has a bite missing

"the market," you answer with a nod, "we have to go there this week, please," you smile softly, knowing full well he would never dream of saying no to you

spencer's eyes flicker up, behind you and then back to you, "of course, honey" he says as other voices start to fill the office space, "they're back"

your eyes widen at him, not daring to look over your shoulder at the people. somehow you sink further into your chair, the huge scarf falling around you like a blanket. meeting the bau was inevitable but not right now, not while you have flakes of pastry over your leggings and snow soaking your hair

"hey guys," spencer smiles slightly as people start to wander over. in your head you start naming them, emily and jj come over first, david and aaron on their tails and behind them, penelope with derek's arm thrown around her shoulder

"hey kid, you didn't tell us you were expecting company," david says, standing behind your boyfriend, hands on his shoulders while the older man smiles at you

"well actual-"

"aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" derek says, teasing, like a sibling would. spencer scowls at him, though there's no heat behind it, causing you to giggle into your coffee

you can tell spencer contemplates just saying no but eventually he sighs, "honey, this is the bau," he gestures at his colleagues and you stifle a laugh, "guys, this is my girlfrien-"

"girlfriend?!" penelope shrieks, cutting spencer off. she shakes derek off of her to move closer, "oh my, you're gorgeous! how long? why didn't i know?" she finishes, whacking spencer on the shoulder

aaron and david pat your boyfriend on the back, like fathers would before brushing past, sending you gentle smiles as they do, retreating back to their offices.

the girls, plus morgan, pull up their own chairs, forming a sort of semi circle in front of you. "so, spill," emily says, gesturing between you and spencer

"what do you want to know," spencer replies, ripping an iced bun in half. he offers you the bigger bit, smiling to himself when you ooh excitedly.

jj sighs, exasperated but still light hearted, "how you met, how long you've been together, everything spence, c'mon"

"we met at a farmers market, he accidentally ran into me, spilt hot," you shoot a look at your boyfriend who stares at his lap with a slight smile, "chocolate down me but then he bought me flowers to say sorry and i was a goner from there," you explain

penelope opens her mouth but spencer beats her to it, "sunflowers"

"that was," you trail off, thinking, "just over a year ago now" you know spencer too well, already looking at him, eyebrow raised, "go on"

"four hundred and two days and counting" he says with a grin, leaning over slightly to brush crumbs off of your scarf

derek holds his hands up, "hold on, you've had a girlfriend for over a year and never thought to mention it" he says, the others nodding in agreement

"aaron and david knew," you slide into the conversation, throwing spencer under the bus, he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“why would you say that?” spencer asks you desperately, you shrug and sit back, watching as jj, emily and morgan burst into chatter, offended that they weren't told while penelope silently scoots over to you

"is that the scarf i made him?" she asks and you nod, knowing it was her christmas gift to him last year, "ohmygod, i'm going to make you a matching one, don't argue, you won't win!" she says all smiley

"when were you going to tell us? at your wedding?"

"no! it jus-"

"boy, do not say it just didn't come up, do not make me smack you in front of your girlfriend"

jj stands, rolling her eyes at the boys arguing while emily jumps in every now and then, fuelling the fire, "great to meet you, we will arrange a girls night soon"

"oh yes, of course! lovely to meet you, finally" you laugh before she wanders away from the scene still unfolding, "are they always like this?" you ask penelope, offering her the bag of goodies

"oh you're my new favourite person," she hums, taking a donut from the bag, "and yes, they're always like this, welcome to the chaos, enjoy your stay"

leaning back in your seat to fully observe, you scoff, "oh i will"

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ my spencer works #❥ spencer reid drabbles

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hiraethwrote · 5 months ago

Text

❝ AND I SIMPLY BLEND IN WITH THE WALLPAPER ❞ PART 2

✧ summary: you're finally over the breakup and back in a new relationship with someone you now can't picture living without. how do you handle bumping into your ex after not seeing him since that party? ✧ cw: f!reader, college au, mild profanity, some angst for my boy satoru, also satoru being a bad bf, pining, heavy regret, comfort, mention of previous issues/trauma, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 3.3k

part 1 - part 2

Satoru: happy birthday! hope you have a nice day

You were surprised to say the least, staring blankly at your phone screen. It had been months since you’d seen him, let alone heard anything from him. The last text message that had been sent between the two of you had been a week after your breakup, when he told you there was still a box of your stuff left in his dorm.

And now you were staring at the first time he’d even acknowledged you’re existence since then — and pure relief filled you as it dawned on you there wasn’t an ounce of hurt in you.

After that dreaded party, you’d made up your mind to finally move on. Not let the idea of him plague you anymore — and seeing those words across your screen made you realise you had finally reached that point. Now you were only thankful for the experience that had been Satoru Gojo, but it was nothing but a pleasant memory. Not painful, not bitter, not torturous. Just nice.

“Ready to go?” A voice snapped you back to reality, looking up at your boyfriend. Your new saving grace, who he had come into your life when you needed it the most, like the universe had finally decided you had suffered enough and now it was your turn to be happy again.

For a while, you’d suspected men like him didn’t really exist, because he had been so incredibly patient, lenient when needed. Just all around a good person, which was exactly what you deserved.

Lifting from your seat, you typed a quick ‘thank you :)’, feeling content that you could now answer him without anxiety filling every fibre of your being. “Yeah, let’s go,” you smiled before hooking your arm with his.

You simply sunk into his body, letting your head rest on his shoulder as his arm was safely secured around your waist in a tender grip, standing in the very front of the line while you waited to be seated.

Lifting your head, your eyes traveled your boyfriend’s face with a loving gaze, a look that had basically become a default setting whenever you had the chance to admire him. “Thank you again,” you whispered.

His arm tightened a little around you. “Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take you out for dinner on your birthday,” he spoke so proudly before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Still, I think a thank you is in order,” you giggled. Carefully wiggling in his grip, you turned around to grab your lipgloss from your purse when you accidentally nudged your elbow straight into the back of the person standing behind you. “Oh, I’m so sorry- Satoru?”

Eyes falling on a familiar figure, you’d recognise that white hair and blue orbs anywhere. It was none other than your ex-boyfriend staring right back at you. Softly, your name dropped from his lips in a way you hadn’t heard from him say in a very long time.

Restraint was sorely forgotten at the sight of you glowing with a sense of peace, letting his eyes take in how you were styled in a beautiful form fitting dress of green satin, half your hair tied back with a cute bow

“Hi,” you said cheerfully, causing him to close his gaping jaw and swallow the lump in his throat.

“Hey,” he answered in a low voice, before he let his attention shift to the vaguely familiar man at your side, one arm on your waist, the other tucked into the pockets of his beige pants.

“Oh, sorry. This is my boyfriend,” your voice was dripping with devotion as you placed one hand on his chest, “you know Kento, right?”

To say Satoru knew Kento was a stretch, but he wasn’t completely unacquainted with him — he’d seen him around campus and at a few parties. Satoru had always thought him to be too serious, never smiling, always walking with strict determination of getting somewhere. But right now he was flashing him a friendly smile as he pulled his hand from the pocket and had it hover in the air between them.

Shaking out of his thoughts, he politely accepted the gesture — not surprised by the firm and respectable handshake. “Kento Nanami, it’s a pleasure.”

“Satoru Gojo,” he answered simply, lips drawing into a thin line. Kento then turned to the individual at his side, causing an embarrassed flush to paint his cheeks, because the sight of you had him forget his girlfriend for a hot second.

“Pleasure,” he smiled at her after they had introduced themselves to each other.

So the rumours were true. No one had told him directly, because the topic of you was quickly dropped any time he entered a room, but the whispers of your new boyfriend had reached him eventually.

Once when he was sat in the library, his ears had perked up when two girls sitting behind him had mentioned your name, talking about the new guy you were seeing. They’d talked of a handsome and chivalrous man, who seemed to have all the women on campus charmed because he appeared to be the perfect gentleman. And you’d been the lucky girl to finally be able to secure him.

But when he’d heard the descriptions of your new beau — stoic, always alone and grumpy, oh-so-serious business major Kento Nanami, was not the person he pictured.

He probably thought he was being slick, but you saw through it. Despite everything that had gone down between you, there was no denying you still knew Satoru, and the look in his eyes when he observed Kento could definitely have been kinder. And with the heavy glare from Satoru, the encounter had turned strangely uncomfortable. Because you weren’t the only one who’s picked up in his tense behaviour. His girlfriend saw it too.

You knew you couldn’t let the silence hang over you any longer. “So is there a special occasion?” You asked sweetly, looking between them.

“Just- ahem, just a much needed date night,” his girlfriend answered, trying her best to hide how her voice came out strained once she opened her mouth.

“That’s nice! It’s good you take the time to do those sorts of things.”

You were so genuine when you talked, and that was all thanks to Kento. Because of his unwavering and supportive presence, you were able to talk to the both of them without a single drop of resentment.

The moment he had heard the name of your ex-boyfriend slip out of your lips, he’d acted on pure instinct, his grip on you tightening — not in a possessive way. No, he just wanted to make sure you were okay, knowing your entire history.

However, the road to knowing your history had been a long one, because the insecurities and trust issues had run a lot deeper than you had anticipated. So Kento had to put in a lot of work in order to get you to creak open that door of trust.

You didn’t know why you waited so long to expose your vulnerability to him. Maybe you just waited for him to bail on you if you proved to be too closed off — too difficult. That eventually he’d grow tired of the work it took to prove himself to you and you’d spare yourself the heartbreak by pushing him away. Yet, he stayed.

If there was an individual to be patience personified, it would be Kento Nanami. He responded to every request of “I’m not ready yet” and “it’s just too much” with a warm smile and a nod before he continued to keep you company.

And he had never once complained. Not a single grunt of frustration, not a twitch in his eye as you once again shut down his attempt of getting close, never rolling his eyes at you. He simply stayed by your side, which eventually was enough for you to let your walls down — and with the walls, everything else came tumbling out as well.

One late evening, after he’d cooked you a nice dinner just because, you’d decided it was finally time to tell him about Satoru and how that ended. And once you twisted open the jar to your life, everything came spewing out.

Every detail about your relationship with Satoru, the breakup and the party. That quickly snowballed into your troubles with family, friends, work, studies, life — you name it. Standing in front of him, you revealed things about yourself you’d only ever told one person before, Satoru. And everything came out in the form of loud and uncontrollable sobs.

You’d been so scared, that he’d deem it all too much and turn his back on you. But he hadn’t even hesitated to pull you into his strong arms and simply hold you. For as long as you needed it, he stroked your hair and whispered small affirmations into your ear the entire night until you fell asleep in his embrace.

When you’d woken up the next morning, his arms were still around you — shielding you from all potential pain to come your way. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

And that’s when you knew.

All of the weariness that had held you back for so long had evaporated into thin air, everything suddenly making sense again as it all fell into place. It was strange, knowing that the two of you had crossed paths on so many occasions but never even acknowledged each other. It felt like wasted time, because you found yourself thinking it should have been him all along.

Kento seemed to be everything Satoru wasn’t, matching your energy in a way Satoru never did. At least now, all the pain you’d been through felt worth it because it had led you straight into the life of your current boyfriend.

So when you were suddenly faced with your ex again, the very one that shattered your heart, Kento instinctively had to know you were doing alright. And if not, he was going to just smoothly shift the conversation away so you’d be able to retreat from the situation to make sure you were anything but uneasy.

You’d looked at Kento when his arm had tensed around your middle, your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. Nothing about the encounter caused any discomfort, all due to him.

“And you? What brings you here?” She asked.

“It’s your birthday,” it slipped out of Satoru before you had the chance to answer, soft eyes locked on you.

“Yeah,” you only smiled. “Kento wanted to take me out,” turning to gaze at him again, “I just couldn’t turn down his offer.”

Again, Satoru’s traitorous eyes drifted where the shouldn’t, flicking towards Kento’s hand that was still on your waist. It resulted in a new feeling arising in him; jealousy. It had him act a bit rashly, a sharp movement to intertwine his hand with his girlfriend’s. Had he done it to draw out a reaction from you? He wasn’t sure, but if that were the case, he failed miserably. It didn’t even seem like you noticed it at all.

“Only the best for you,” Kento had said, mostly for your ears exclusively. But Satoru had heard his little comment and felt a sting go through his body, amplified by the display of how he seemed to be in pure awe of you.

There was no denying it. The way Kento looked at you was out of pure love, unbothered by your surroundings. Not just in his eyes though, but he wore his dedication to you on his sleeve. There was no doubt that he was perfectly happy, that he found himself where he was meant to be.

“Mr. Nanami, your table is ready,” the waiter came over.

“It was great seeing you again,” you smiled, first looking at his girlfriend before turning to look at Satoru. He knew it wasn’t your intention, because your eyes were only looking at him with kindness — but he felt as if your gaze was burning into his soul. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Nice meeting you both,” Kento begged farewell, before guiding you in front of him with his hand resting on the small of your back.

They say you don’t realise what you have until it’s gone. Well, Satoru had only an idea of what he had lost once it was gone. It wasn’t until he now saw someone else enjoying your love he actually realised what he had foolishly given up. He also knew that was completely and utterly selfish of him.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago, images of you had started to reappear in his head. At first it was only in small flashes, to which he didn’t think twice about. But it quickly got worse, when he found himself sharing a moment with his girlfriend and a suffocating thought clogged his mind, telling him this was all wrong. It should have been you.

Time moved in slow motion, eyes following your every step towards your table. He was only brought back to reality when he felt his girlfriend pull her hand out of his before crossing them over her chest.

“You could at least try and pretend not to be obsessed,” she muttered.

“What do you mean?” Satoru said shyly, trying to pretend like he didn’t know what she was hinting at. But he knew he wasn’t fooling her. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

“I’m not an idiot.” When he finally turned his attention from you, he felt terrible because a pair of glossy eyes was staring up at him. “And you’ve always been a terrible liar.”

When he was about to come with another dumb excuse, they were approached by their waiter. “Mr. Gojo? Let me lead you to your table.” She blinked away her tears and put on a forced smile.

Walking to their table, Satoru couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of you one more time — he instantly wished he hadn’t. He was hoping to find you looking back at him with the same longing stare he gave you but you didn’t.

You were solemnly focused on Kento who was sitting across from you. As far as you were concerned, there wasn’t another person in the room. And he was returning your loving stare with just as much devotion. If not more.

“You sure you’re alright?” Kento asked, reaching across the table to grab your hand.

You nodded. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I could imagine it was hard seeing him again.”

You took a deep breath, the scene of Kento staring back at you with so much concern having a relaxing affect on you. True serenity filled your body leading you to simply shake your head no at him. “No. No, it wasn’t.” He squinted his eyes at you. “He can’t hurt me anymore. Having you in my life has made sure of that.”

Contentment had the corner of his lips tug upwards in a satisfied smile. “You give me too much credit, darling.”

“No, don’t think so,” you said playfully. “If anything, I don’t give you enough credit.” A lighthearted scoff escaped him.

“Is that so?”

“Oh, most certainly. They write books about men like you, y’know? Dashing, charming, handsome.”

“You flatter me,” he sighed as he leaned back in his chair again, the ghost of a smile still painting his face as a slightest blush bloomed on his cheeks. His eyes met yours again. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

From across the restaurant, Satoru kept waiting for stolen glances to come his way but they never arrived. He was hoping that the unspoken connection you used to have would come in clutch one last time, even if it was just to have your eyes on him for a second.

But you never gave him what he wanted.

He spent the dinner indulged in dry small talk with his girlfriend. The conversation that once flowed so smoothly, had grown stale with boredom and neither of them knew how to fix it. She especially struggled when she constantly caught him looking past her to spot you deep in chatter with Kento.

For them, the evening passed by so slowly, unable to meet each other’s eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. Satoru’s demeanour quickly changed when it appeared your evening was over, his posture straightening when you and Kento got up from your seats. He paid close attention when Kento pulled your jacket over your shoulders, before leaning in to whisper something in your that had you giggle while your cheeks turned red.

Just as you were about to exit, and just before Satoru was about to lose the single splinter of hope he had left, you did in fact look in their direction. You said a few words to Kento before turning away from him and coming over to their table.

Curiosity filled Satoru’s body, eager eyes glued on you. For every step you came closer, his heart started to beat faster. It was like the light of the end of the tunnel came closer and closer but it was quickly put out when you put a hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder, not really acknowledging him in particular.

“I’m sorry to disturb,” you breathed nervously as you looked down at her. “I just feel like I owe you an apology.”

She instantly pinched her eyebrows together. “An apology?”

Truthfully, she was beyond confused by the fact that you approached her. Satoru’s not-so-subtle glances in your direction had been torturing her all evening, and she was a little scared you’d returned them when she couldn’t see.

Judging how she saw you and your new boyfriend alone, she would never have thought you had any bad intentions — but based on the last time she’d seen you, when you were bawling your eyes out alone at a party and all the stories she’d been told about how broken you were, it wasn’t without reason she was worried.

But your focus was on her.

“Yes,” you chuckled softly. “The last time we met I was unnecessarily cold. I had a bad evening, and I was a little harsh in the way I talked to you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” she answered, blinking away the befuddlement she felt. “That’s alright. There’s no need to apologise,” she returned your genuine smile.

“Either way. I could have been a little more mellow.” With sincerity, she made sure you had nothing to worry about with short and sweet confirmations. “Well, enjoy the rest of your evening.” You gave her shoulder one last squeeze and a small wave to Satoru.

His voice had failed him, no sound coming out when he wanted to wish you goodbye. He wasn’t in control when he again let his eyes linger as you cutely made your way back to your boyfriend, who held his hand out for you to grab. Once your hands connected, he smoothly pulled you close to him and placed a small peck on your temple. It almost seemed like the two of you were physically attached to each other when you left the restaurant, never even thinking of looking back.

What happened?

He knew he had screwed up majorly — he didn’t understand how he had ever thought this was how it supposed to be? What the hell had come over him when he’d broken up with you? And how had he been so wrapped up in his new girlfriend, when he had to know somewhere inside him it wasn’t real — not like it was with you?

Of course he felt bad. His girlfriend was a good person through and through. And at one point he had been under the impression that they were happy, but she had one flaw that crept up on him after a while — she wasn’t you.

Satoru would probably hate himself forever for letting you go.

tags @sad-darksoul, @luvsymai, @snwvie, @call-memissbrightside

a/n for anyone expecting and hoping suguru, i am sorry :( i decided to go the comfort route instead of the scandal route, because if we’re honest, it’s what reader deserves… not to mention that i’m doing satoru extremely dirty in this one and it would be cruel to have reader get with suguru on top of that also, it's nanami's birthday so it's fitting <3

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated plagiarism not authorized

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sometimesanalice · 7 months ago

Text

Make Me Your Masterpiece

Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)

(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)

You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.

They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.

You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.

The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes.

The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.

By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.

Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.

The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.

You’d been a goner right then and there.

And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.

As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.

Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.

He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.

Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.

You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”

It was the best first date you’d ever had.

For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.

You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.

You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.

Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.

You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting.

Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.

He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode.

You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.

Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn’t totally blank by the end of the session.

You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.

Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.

“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”

You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.

It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.

Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.

“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”

He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth.

You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.

You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.

It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.

There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.

First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his art.

You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.

Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.

Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.

Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.

You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you.

After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.

“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.

He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”

Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.

You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.

Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.

You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.

He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”

“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.

You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.

His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.

“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”

You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.

The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.

“Where do you want me?”

“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.

His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”

Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”

You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.

You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.

His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.

Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.

He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.

Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.

There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.

He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”

You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.

Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.

You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.

“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”

Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.

You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.

“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.

The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.

The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.

He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”

You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.” He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”

The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.

He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”

“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.

He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.

“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”

Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.

Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.

But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.

“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”

Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.

Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.

All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

You feel the paint smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.

You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”

Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.

He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.

He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.

It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.

Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.

The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.

He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.

You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.

“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”

You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.

Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.

Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.

It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.

You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.

Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.

This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.

The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”

You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.

“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.

“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.

“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”

He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.

That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.

It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.

That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.

He gave you the sky and he made you his world.

Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!

A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd fic #bob x you #bob x reader

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yesimwriting · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy ya!! Hwo you doing? I wanted to ask maybe you can write Coriolanus x reader when he gets to district after just finishing training for pacekeepers, or maybe where his tribute just arrived to the capitol and the reader maybe says the “what does my mentor do besides bring me roses?” Line? ❤️

A/n the turn around for this was so fast for me 😭 i got excited

hi!! i love these prompts and am so glad for the excuse to write something for him 😭,, also i didn't blatantly make the reader the district 12 tribute bc i didn't want to necessarily cute lucy gray out all together, but it's clear that she's from a poorer district and that being assigned to mentor her is an insult to the Snow name,, also reader pulls a katniss and volunteers for a younger family member bc the irony of that scratches an inch in my brain

Summary: After the very public slight of being assigned to mentor a female tribute from a lower district, all Snow can think about is the uphill battle that winning the Plinth prize will now be. Until, he realizes, that he's been given the first ever district volunteer who seems to have a quality that makes people care about her.

Warnings: my first time writing for a specific character, Coriolanus's internal thoughts are a little softer than they should be at some points but i love the accidental and deeply impractical crush trope so

---

Of Angels

The desperation masquerading as fierceness behind her eyes is undeniable. Coriolanus feels the way your panic, your shock as the weight of your own words dawn on you in his chest. He swallows, forcing down the feeling.

Take me--take me instead! The phrase is repeated again and again, shaky and pleading.

Something about the display, about the 12-year-old girl that desperately tries to cling to you as peace keepers push you forward, makes it hard to watch. Even worse, it makes it impossible to look away.

The first ever district volunteer. A suicide mission or a--a desperate call for attention? A decision made out of hysteria that you're already starting to regret?

He can't decide as the footage of you being ushered onto stage is played. Surely, Dr. Gaul and other Capitol officials won't find this acceptable. The concept of volunteering has always been reserved for the careers, the districts that produce well fed children that train for this. It's a way to allow them to pick their best, their strongest. It is not a way for someone to lay down their life for someone else.

"Are you saying you volunteer?"

You blink, eyes wild and bright as you openly survey the crowd. Coriolanus briefly thinks that you might attempt to take what he doubts is an actual out. You seem to be considering something before finally nodding once. The motion so stiff it makes you look smaller, like the girl whose name was originally called.

"Yes," you mumble. The softness of it is a personal accost. Your choice was made in panic, but that isn't who you are. You're not much of a performer or a fighter or even bold...you're not much of a chance at the Plinth Prize. "I-I volunteer."

----

In the end, he had come because of Tigris. She had insisted that there was a way to see his tribute as more than just another face from the districts, as more human than animal.

She loves that little girl enough to die in her place. If I was her, I'd want someone to tell me that my choice meant something. I'd want someone to show that they care about me.

The words had felt dismissible at first, but the more he thought about them, the more it made sense. Panem had seen the entire thing, had seen the way that his tribute continued to comfort the younger girl even after sentencing herself to death. There's a story worthy of a show in that.

If he can convince you to go on camera, to speak of the girl, of the choice...maybe he'd have a chance at his future. And if the public support manages to help you in some way or another, that'd only be an additional benefit. You love that girl enough to die for her, maybe that means you love her enough to fight tooth and nail to live for her as well.

The train that stops at each district pulls to a stop. The doors open, releasing the sound of tributes that are learning the consequences of attempting to cause issues for the peacekeepers.

A boy he vaguely recognizes steps out, and then a younger girl. Are you one of the tributes already risking their lives in an attempt to aggravate peacekeepers? Or maybe you're cowering at the back of the train, clinging onto the safety of a familiar space.

You prove to be neither. You emerge from the train, perfectly in tact and stable.

Coriolanus parts his lips, yet no words manage to come out. You're different in person, the white you're dressed in is objectively dirtier than it was when you were reaped and yet somehow, here in the dim, gray station it feels brighter. A stray beam of sunlight breaking through a cluster of clouds. A promise that the storm will end soon and that the angels have yet to abandon the earth.

Your dress is a simple thing, loose enough to be a hand-me-down or maybe even borrowed, the lace of the skirt falling farther down your knees than it should. That paired with the ribbon scraps tied to each side of your head make you look younger and cruelly innocent.

"Hello." The blandness of his own beginning forces a burning sort of regret to take over his chest. You attentively turn, expression kind and expecting. It only makes the embarrassment he doesn't fully understand scorch him from the inside out with more violence. He's once again struck with the desire to look away and finding himself incapable of doing so. "My name is Coriolanus Snow, and I'm your mentor."

You nod, features hardening. You've pieced it all together--his appearance, what he's saying, and where you are. He's revealed himself as part of the Capitol and now you can no longer watch him with kind, accepting eyes. The look you're giving him is almost enough to make him wish he could have presented this differently.

Coriolanus extends an arm, the carefully chosen pure white rose an olive branch. You blink, eyebrows drawing together before you slowly reach out and take the flower by its stem. Your fingertips brush against his own, the warmth of your skin is so shocking he has to remind himself not to flinch.

"A mentor?" You repeat the word like your only reason for doing so is to try out the foreign word on your tongue. "Does everyone get one or am I just lucky?" You look down at the rose you're now holding. "Or has the rumor that I'm a rebellion trick spread to the Capitol?"

The last question genuinely surprises him. It shouldn't, there had been some talk about why anyone from a poor district would ever choose to go into the games. The way you and the girl you saved reacted to each other could have been staged...but Coriolanus didn't think it was enough to warrant genuine rumors. Anyone that had looked at your eyes and seen the fear in them would have known that it was sacrifice. Is sacrifice. That girl means the world to you.

"No," he starts slowly, "No, everyone gets one and no one here has any preconceptions about you."

You raise your eyebrows, making it clear that you don't believe him. No preconceptions had been a strong way to phrase things, but the urge to assure you had taken over with no warning. You then look away, glancing around to take in your surroundings.

"Then why isn't there..." You trail off, your gaze landing firmly on him. "You're not supposed to be here."

He blinks. For the first time, it feels like you're truly looking at him. His own susceptibility to your wide eyes turns his stomach. You're the one that should feel like something up for display under his stare. "No, I'm not."

The admission forces the edge of your lips to pull upwards. "Alright," you hum, "So what does my mentor do for me besides bring me roses?"

"I do my best to take care of you."

For a second, all you do is stare. He's surprised you. The realization brings him more relief than it should. "The girl who you volunteered for..."

You tilt your head downwards, hiding your expression as your fingers carefully toy with the exterior of the soft petals. "My cousin," the explanation is low, cautious, "But we uh--we're more like sisters."

An in that he doesn't even have to work for. "I understand that." You look up, not bothering to hide your confusion. Maybe you weren't expecting something so human to come out. Maybe human works for you. "During the war, we took care of each other...and then after our parents passed, we were left in the care of our grandmother."

The silence that follows is tight, straining against the sympathies you're not willing to extend to someone like him. Your lips part, and Coriolanus is disgusted by the part of him that's curious about what's going to come next.

You're pushed back with no warning. His attention snaps towards the peacekeeper who is shoving against your shoulder with more force than necessary.

"Excuse--" No reaction, no response as another peacekeeper grabs your arm. "Excuse me, I'm her--" You're being dragged away in order to be packed into another vehicle of transportation with the rest of them.

Coriolanus stays near, doing his best to never lose sight of you in the chaos. A tribute breaks free from the hold of the peacekeepers and launches his body forward. An ill thought out escape attempt. The distraction is all Coriolanus needs. This is his chance to go after you, to cement a connection that will guarantee cooperation.

It's not the distraction that gets him to move or even thoughts of the Plinth prize, it's the final flash of angel white fabric as its forced back into darkness. He rushes forward before he can overthink, entering the vehicle just as the doors shut.

----

i think i might make a part 2!!

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #coriolanus x reader

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