#couples intimacy retreat

[xperienceblixx]

In today’s fast-paced world, couples often face challenges in maintaining and deepening their emotional and physical intimacy. Daily stresses, busy schedules, and the pressures of modern life can gradually create a distance between partners, making it challenging to sustain a strong bond. For those seeking to reconnect, rejuvenate, and explore new depths of intimacy, a Couples Intimacy retreat can be a transformative experience. Xperience Blixx offers a unique opportunity for couples to embark on a journey that strengthens their relationship, reignites passion, and fosters meaningful connection.

[ipseitydelrey]

your lips, my lips ☆ s. reid

ship sub!spencer reid x fem!reader

content/warnings smutty smut (mdni 18+), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, accidental voyeurism, he sounds like a slut you can’t blame yourself

word count 2.5k

summary after spencer returns home early from a case, you come back home after work to find him in an incredibly compromised position.

a/n ignore the accidental hiatus, but hi !! im probably not going to be able to post at all in may bc im going to be in europe for the entire month. i’m posting this before going in a cave so…enjoy this as a treat!

To put it briefly, Spencer was…awkward.

That’s not to discredit him, though. You can tell that he loves the team and you (especially you). Although he’s less awkward around people he trusts and has known for longer, he still can’t really speak up for what he wants.

And the poor boy is just so touch starved. It’s clear he’s practically clueless when it comes to other forms of intimacy aside from sympathetic hugs to friends or victims in a case. Hell, it even took a month since you started dating for Spencer to be comfortable huddling next to you on the couch; it took even longer for him to be fine with sharing the same bed.

You had barely done anything sexual yet. The closest you had probably gotten to something intimate like that with him was him involuntarily jutting his hips up into your ass when you were making out on the couch. You had hoped that he would continue to do that, especially with how you could feel his hardness pressing up against your core, but he got so flustered and started stammering out high-pitched apologies before moving away and retreating into the bathroom. You imagined that he probably took care of it, but knowing him, maybe he doesn’t jerk off.

You went with that assumption for a while since you — and especially him — hadn’t initiated anything potentially steamy. For him, makeout sessions were enough and although you wanted more, you were okay with indulging in him. You figured that with how touch starved he was, you should take it slow before moving on.

You got to leave work early, and you’re usually glad when that happens but today you’re especially happy because Spencer had just gotten back from a successful case a couple hours ago. When he landed, he immediately texted you, letting you know where he was. When you left your workplace, you had forgotten to text him that you’ll be home earlier than expected, but you’re sure that he wouldn’t mind.

After all, he’s probably just as excited to see you, if not more.

You don’t call out to him when you unlock and open the apartment door; he should hear that you’re home with the locking of the door and the tossing of the keys, as well as the rustle of your coat as you take it off and hang it up.

It’s quiet, but that isn’t really saying anything since it usually is. But you’d figured that he’d meet you at the doorway, which he didn’t.

Odd.

You’re just about to call out to him when you hear a peculiar and out-of-place sound: a moan.

Although it startles you a bit, you think that it was probably the neighbours; that doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense consdiering it’s coming from inside the apartment, but it’s more believable than…

Then you hear another one, and this time you can finally pinpoint its location. It sounds like it’s coming from the bedroom. Spencer? It’s not impossible, but you had just figured that he wouldn’t be the type to pleasure himself, especially with those sorts of reactions.

You slowly make your way towards the room in question, seeing that the door is slightly ajar, leaving a sliver for you to peer in.

What you find is a heavenly sight: Spencer, fully unclothed, splayed across the bed with his length in his fist. His pace is slow, but it’s still enough for him to whimper and moan quite audibly. His other hand is gripping tightly onto the sheets as his head pushes back against a pillow.

It’s perverted, but you feel as if you can’t tear yourself away from watching. At this point, you start to wonder if he knows you’re here or if he even heard you come into the apartment. You struggle to keep quiet as your panties grow damp, and you end up biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sight.

The sound of his fist moving up and down his leaking cock is lewd, his precum dribbling down and even slightly coating his hand.

“o-oh m-mommy—” Him saying that is your breaking point, and you push the door open and enter the room.

He finally notices you and he pulls the sheets he was just grasping onto for dear life up to cover his throbbing dick. You were expecting him to do that; although what he was just doing was insanely hot, he’s still shy, even around you.

He looks away from you, clearly embarrassed he was caught. “Uh, I was— I— ah…” he attempts to explain himself but it leads nowhere. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, sounding defeated.

“Why are you sorry?” It’s not a needed question; you know exactly why he thinks so. You move to sit on the edge of the bed as he moves away, still having the sheets pulled up to cover himself. He stammers, but no words come out. He’s so flustered and red in his cheeks, you fear he’s about to pop.

He squirms in his position slightly while a tiny noise that you can barely hear escapes from his lips. A noise of discomfort, you recognize quickly, but you’re not sure if it’s because you just caught him in a private moment or if it’s because his cock is starting to get achy from the lack of stimulation.

“Baby,” you say in a more serious tone, leaning into the notion of his fantasy of you as his mommy, “why are you sorry?”

You stare at him, though you wish he could return your gaze. “Y-You probably feel…uncomfortable b-because—”

Softly, you shush him, holding a finger up against his lips, and you smile. “I’m not uncomfortable,” you assure him.

“You’re not?” he asks, his words vibrating against your index.

You shake your head as you pull your finger away from his lips, instead moving to grab his chin with a soft grip. His cheeks squish against your fingers softly, making his lips look even more plush and kissable. You push your lips against his gently, though it’s obvious that he’s eager from the way he pushes against your mouth to chase the kiss.

The way he whines when you pull away from him is so cute, you feel as if you want to give in to his need to have you closer to him. But he can tell that you want to do something else to satisfy him, so Spencer quiets down. Your hand, however, remains firmly yet softly gripping his jaw.

You look down at the sheets covering his lower half, his erection not-so-subtlety poking the thin fabric, and you glance back up at him. “Do you want me to…” you trail off before looking down at his boner again.

In all honesty, it takes Spencer a good second or two before he gets what you meant by that offer. “U-uh, well, ah…” he stutters. You’re not exactly sure what he wants and frankly neither is he. Based on his previous experiences with intimacy, you decide to not give him a blowjob, or even a handjob.

You both sit there in silence; you can practically cut the tension in the room with a knife. As you think of what to do — since you don’t just want to ignore it, nor do you want to leave him unsatisfied and awkward — Spencer squirms uncomfortably, shifting ever so slightly. His thighs accidentally clench together, squeezing his erection under the blanket, causing him to whimper softly. He silently hopes that you didn’t catch that noise he made, but you did…and it gave you an idea; one that will satisfy both of your urges.

“Do you wanna keep going?” You ask. He would probably much rather do this himself, although you don’t know how he would feel if he were to masturbate right in front of you.

He hesitates for a second, but he does nod shyly. You notice how he’s not meeting your gaze with his own, avoiding eye contact almost entirely. Instead, he’s looking in the direction of your waist.

Without informing him, you stand up and your hands quickly find their way to the buttons on your pants undoing them. Spencer watches with an air of anticipation and slight anxiety as you pull your pants down, a bit hastily and it definitely shows just how eager you are at this moment. Your underwear is certainly damp with how much this situation has you turned on and he can see it clearly too. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression as he sees the wetness, whether he’s nervous or intrigued, until you see him lick his lips — a motion that he only does when he’s excited.

At last, you peel off your soaked panties, but you keep your eyes on his face, wanting to see his reaction at seeing you half-naked. Sure, he’s seen you in your bra and panties before, but that was never sexual and only when you were changing clothes in front of him. He’s always looked away, the gentleman that he is, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek or two at your near-unclothed state. Just like how now, where he can see your bare pussy, glistening and wet, he just can’t resist staring.

He doesn’t mind it; no, not at all. In fact, it’s just making him even more excited, to the point where he slightly pulls down the sheets that are covering his dick — not enough to actually show his arousal, but enough to clearly see his happy trail, which has you salivating.

You get back on the bed, not bothering to take your shirt off as well. You just want to get started already, but you think it would be better if you know he’s comfortable with this whole situation first.

“Is this okay?” you ask, alluding to your nakedness as your thighs are slightly spread, giving him a nice view of your cunt.

He swallows and nods feverishly as his gaze continues to bore into your pussy; all of his attention seems to be focused there, which amuses you.

Deciding to take the initiative, your hand makes its way towards your core. You dip the tips of your fingers in your wet folds, collecting some of the slick and bringing it up to your clit, where you start to gently rub it in small and slow circles.

You hear Spencer’s breath hitch as you do this. It’s like you’re subtly encouraging him to do the same thing and start masturbating again, which is exactly what you’re going for.

He ends up pulling the covers off his pelvis completely, allowing you to see his cock-filled hand. You bite your lip at the sight of him starting to slowly stroke his length again, although timidly, as if he’s being judged. You’re not doing that, of course; you wouldn’t dare judge him for doing something so pleasing in front of you.

He keeps avoiding your gaze so you lean forward as you continue to massage your clit gently and you bring your other hand to tilt his head up by his chin to look at you. The eye contact you both have now is both awkward yet erotic. You’re not really doing anything with each other, you’re just two people touching themselves in front of the other.

A couple minutes into this shared experience, Spencer is starting to get more confident and less self-conscious. His strokes are getting longer and faster, making him produce more noises from his throat; mostly small whimpers with the occasional moan but by god, those small moans just get you going. You end up quickening your pace too and you let yourself make tiny whines too.

Eventually, your fingers move from your clit and back down to your folds, where you insert a finger into your cunt. The sound that falls from your lips after you do so is more motivation for Spencer to speed up again. You thrust your finger in and out at the same pace as his hand and you’re sure you both are imagining something more intimate at this point.

You add a second finger and then later on a third and now, a few minutes later, you’re both moving in sync and moaning up a storm. His moans are louder though, but you don’t mind at all. They just give you more reason to speed up and keep going.

Nearing the end, you’re wondering who’s going to cum first. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Spencer did so before you since he’s been jerking off for longer than you have but with the way the pleasure is building up in your stomach, you’re not entirely sure anymore; your mind is just focused on the intense pleasure and nothing else.

“O-oh god…” you hear him whine. Now you know who is going to finish first.

“You gonna cum, baby?” It takes you some effort to ask that question, especially since for the past ten or so minutes, you’ve just been touching yourselves without even talking.

“Mhm,” he hums in response as he nods. His hand is going at such a quick pace that you can clearly hear how his precum-coated palm is moving up and down his cock. “S’much, I…”

“It’s okay, honey,” you stammer out. Then, in your pleasure-fueled haze, an idea forms in your head. “You can cum. Cum for mommy~”

The use of that nickname for you really gets him going and he can no longer hold himself back. “M-mommy!” he cries out with a gasp for air as cum spurts out of the tip of his cock. He lets his head hang back and his eyelids flutter as his orgasm hits him and it’s beautiful for you to watch. It only motivates you to speed up even more, wanting to reach your peak as fast as possible. You probably shouldn’t rush it to savor the moment but in this case, rushing is fine to you.

After his intense orgasm, Spencer watches with bated breath as you cum. Your hips rock forward, practically riding your own fingers while your back arches and your murmurs grow incoherent. If he wasn’t tired, Spencer is pretty sure that he would be turned on again immediately just from watching you finger yourself. He is almost positive that you’re thinking of riding him instead of your fingers, and he would be correct in that assessment.

The pleasure slowly dissipates until you’re left with the incredibly awkward feeling of having just jerked off in front of your boyfriend. Both of you aren’t really sure what to say or what to do considering this was technically your first shared sexual experience since you had started dating.

“Um—” “So—” you both say at the same time. You don’t know how to move forward in a gracious manner, so you shyly get off the bed and put your underwear and pants back on. He still sits in the bedsheets, which are slightly damp from the sweat accumulated from the experience.

He moves towards the edge of the bed — towards you — and sits up straight, trying not to feel embarrassed that he’s still naked. And even though he felt uncomfortable about being touched while nude prior, he plants his lips on yours.

You weren’t expecting this but it’s a welcome surprise, as you chase his kiss with all the energy you have left; which isn’t a lot, but is enough. He breaks from the kiss, but leaves his forehead against yours as he looks at you like a dog.

“Thank you, mommy.”

hopefully it wasn’t that bad <3 join the taglist

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) john price knew he would marry you the first time he saw you.

john price met you in the rain.

the memory of the encounter remains etched in his mind like a timeless portrait. as the years pass and his recollections fade, the moment of your first meeting remains vivid and unblemished.

the sky, a somber shade of ashen blue, was adorned with brooding clouds of a dark and furious pearl grey. thunder roared in the distance, while lightning ominously streaked across the sky. the rain, a gentle drizzle, tapped rhythmically on his freshly trimmed lawn and his parked truck. seated on his porch, cradling a cup of tea, john's loyal english mastiff, simply known as 'dog', slumbered beneath his chair.

he'd only had a few more days left until he was back in the field, and despite having needed a couple of days to rest, john was ready to get back to the familiarity of work- especially when there wasn't anyone waiting for him when he got home. ( well, besides 'dog' )

john had always been content with his own company, finding relief in the quiet moments spent with his loyal dog. the peacefulness that came with his aloneness had become a sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the disorder of the world and his position; and find solace in his thoughts. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and then further, john's heart began to yearn for something more.

the familiarity of being alone, once a source of comfort, now felt like a hefty weight on his shoulders. the emptiness that had once brought him peace now seemed suffocating, as if the walls of his home were closing in on him. he craved for a wife who would eagerly anticipate his return home from his weeks away, someone to hold close and shower with affection.

the stillness that had once brought him solace now echoed with a deep longing for intimacy. the sound of his footsteps seemed hollow, and the absence of life within the house filled the empty spaces of his home with a haunting void. john couldn't help but yearn for the day when his despondent home would be replaced with the joy of shared moments and the love of another.

he craved for the warmth of another's touch, the feeling of intertwined fingers and loving touches. he craved the sound of laughter filling the air, the kind that could only come from shared jokes and inside stories. john imagined the simple pleasures of cooking together, of sharing meals and conversations that stretched long into the night.

and despite himself, despite not wanting to feel anything. his heart ached for the intimacy of whispered secrets and stolen kisses, for the comfort of knowing that someone was there to catch him when he stumbled, unconditionally. he yearned for the simple pleasure of waking up next to someone, their presence a constant reminder that he was not alone anymore.

john price, for the first time in what felt like decades; craved for something more.

john's focus is abruptly interrupted by a thunderous slam, causing his weary eyes to shift from his tepid cup of tea. his piercing blue gaze fixates on the source of the commotion across the street. as he observes, his attention is captivated by you, and while being lost in his own melancholic thoughts, he realizes that the rain has intensified, pouring down relentlessly.

there you stand on your porch, engaged in a heated argument with a man. your gestures are animated, your lips downturned in a pained frown, and your brows knitted together in irritation.

the rain's melody drowns out all other sounds, leaving john in a world of silence from the conversation. yet, even amidst this deafening quiet, he cannot tear his gaze away from you, your eyes widening in disbelief as the man retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. price watches as you fish out a pair of car keys from your pocket, walking briskly down the porch stairs and to a car that sits in the driveway. you're immediately drenched in rain from head to toe and john finds that you still look breathtaking regardless.

inexplicably, the two of you lock eyes, and your lips pull into a thin line, your words barely audible over the pouring rain but he catches them nonetheless. "what the hell are you lookin' at?!" then you slip into the car and speed down the street before he can even process what he's heard. slowly a smirk pulls at his lips, the crowsfeet around his eyes deepening.

john price, wanted you.

[mirefireflies]

haven’t recovered from that scene yet btw and i don’t think i ever will. the way that when louis tells armand that he’s going to turn madeline and asks him to be there, he’s genuinely asking because he thinks it might be beautiful and he wants to share that moment with armand.. the way that armand can’t handle that intimacy and so he retreats into arun instinctively, “are you asking or making me” and then immediately regrets it .. louis physically pulling away and stepping back… when he takes armand’s hands off him, there’s a moment before he reaches back out where you can see him fall into that role for armand, even as he doesn’t want to.. like he was asking but armand’s answering question isn’t a question at all it’s just him saying that he needs louis to make him or he won’t go..the way that louis wanted this outside of the maitre/arun dynamic they’re developing but armand can’t allow himself to be intimate without falling back on that dynamic.. even when it’s just emotional intimacy that louis is asking for. theyre just so… and they both know it too, like the way that louis goes “okay” and the look on his face as he slips back into the role.. the way armand apologizes but it’s too late the line has already been drawn… most normal couple ever !! no unhealthy power dynamics or complex displays of intimacy over here !! they make me insane .

[yamsfrecklvs]

i know that smoking is bad and gross and disgusting but i, unfortunately, am a smoker - so hear me out for a second. warning: a lil suggestive, shotgunning, reader is implied as an occasional smoker

kento nanami is a stressed man. his job is hard and he has to deal with, well… a lot.

for this reason, to try and relieve at least some stress, he picked up smoking. it’s not something he’s proud of. he finds it disgusting - he’s ashamed of it, even. he’s the kind of smoker that’s unguessable. he always smells clean, there’s no trace of the deep, strong smell of tobacco on his clothes, in his hair. he’s just so pristine.

so pristine, in fact, that when you two start dating you have absolutely no clue of this little vice of his. it’s the only secret he keeps from you: he doesn’t want you to judge him. and it’s not like he smokes a lot anyway. he usually indulges in a couple of cigarettes a day, nothing more.

but one day, when he kisses you as he picks you up in his car, you can tell he tastes different. there’s a new kind of flavor on his tongue, on his soft lips, and it’s so faint you almost don’t notice it. almost. but you recognize it, because you’re no stranger to smoking either, and when you pull away, you grin ever so slightly. you finally found a small flaw in your perfect man, and you want to tease him for it. but then, you decide to retreat. to find a better occasion to call him out and, who knows, maybe have a little fun with it too.

a couple of days later, you’re at his house, and he's just made love to you. you bask in the intimacy of the moment, his aftercare ever so thoughtful as he cleans you up and whispers soft praises in your ears, his lips brushing against your forehead to kiss it. after he's done taking care of you, he lies down next to you, his hand reaching for yours (and oh, he's such a sap, but you love it). that, you find, is the perfect moment to tease him. you crawl onto him and kiss his cheek, and when he turns to you with a shadow of a smile on his lips, you snicker.

"you know what i'd really like right now?" you ask, feigning innocence.

he hums in response, the back of his hand reaching to caress your cheek. "what, love?"

"a cigarette. i'd love a cigarette right now, ken."

his eyes widen at the weird, sudden request, his lips parting in surprise. he knows you all too well, and he's perfectly aware of the fact that you wouldn't have said that had you not known. he surrenders.

"you knew?"

"you tasted different the other day,” you explain, amused. “why didn't you tell me?"

he shrugs. "it's a bad habit."

"as if i would ever judge you."

he sighs, shaking his head before leaning over to his bedside table and opening the first drawer. "do you really want that?"

you shrug. "sure. give it to me. we can share."

he takes his cigarette pack, a lighter and an ashtray from that same drawer, places the small plate between the two of you as he pulls out a cigarette to hand it to you. you take it between your lips and look up at him as he lights it for you, and kento swears he's never seen anything sexier. you take a couple of drags, the smoke blowing from your lips and rising up in the half-lit room as kento watches you, mesmerized by your mere existence. you turn to him, and as your gazes meet, another idea crosses your mind.

you reach for him, your fingers grazing his mouth, which he opens immediately, almost as a reflex. you place your free hand on the side of his neck and lean in for a kiss, taking another drag of the cigarette instead. but as you get closer again, instead of kissing him, you gently blow the smoke into his mouth. and he drinks it in, the sharp smell of the cigarette burning mixed with your sweet scent, the way your subtle touch on his skin feels like it's burning him up alive. it drives him crazy - so much that, for a second, he loses his cool, grabbing you by the back of your head as his lips crash onto yours messily, hungrily. you can't believe how something as small as a little teasing has got him all worked up again, but you don't mind.

needless to say, the cigarette is quickly forgotten and put out in the ashtray.

the nicotine rush is nothing compared to you, after all.

@yamsfrecklvs

ash's note: lord forgive me i'm so weak for him ... also trust me shotgunning gets you a lot of game (source: me). i’m gonna go smoke a cigarette now

[pearlprincess02]

8th house synastry overlays (outer planets)

inner planets overlay & asteroids overlay

jupiter in 8th house overlay

jupiter person: in this synastry, the jupiter person feels an expansive and enriching connection with the 8th house person, as their presence inspires a sense of abundance and possibility in matters of intimacy, shared resources, and emotional depth. on the positive side, the jupiter person may find themselves feeling optimistic and adventurous, embracing the transformative power of their relationship to explore new emotional territories and deepen their understanding of intimacy. this dynamic can lead to spiritual growth and a sense of shared purpose. however, the intensity of the 8th house can also overwhelm the jupiter person, making them feel anxious or uncertain about their role in navigating the complexities of the relationship, particularly if they sense the 8th house person struggling with their own insecurities or fears. the jupiter person may grapple with finding balance between offering support and needing to maintain their own optimism.

8th house person: for the 8th house person, the influence of jupiter can bring a sense of hope and expansion into their emotional world, encouraging them to embrace vulnerability and trust in the abundance of their connection. positively, they may feel inspired to delve deeper into the mysteries of intimacy, uncovering hidden desires and fostering a sense of trust and faith in the relationship’s potential. this dynamic can lead to a transformative experience, where the 8th house person feels supported in their journey toward emotional healing and growth. however, the weight of jupiter's expansive energy can also create pressure, leading the 8th house person to feel exposed or vulnerable, as they may fear their darker emotions could overshadow the positivity jupiter brings. they might oscillate between feeling uplifted by the jupiter person's optimism and overwhelmed by the emotional depth of their interactions.

couple tropes: the explorers of depth, abundant connection, cosmic lovers, trust builders, transformative duo, emotional adventurers, optimistic healers, intuitive synchrony, the secrets of abundance, the fated journey

saturn in 8th house overlay

saturn person: in this synastry, the saturn person feels a strong sense of responsibility and commitment toward the 8th house person, often striving to provide stability and structure within the relationship. on the positive side, this can lead to a profound sense of resilience, as the saturn person helps the 8th house person confront their fears and embrace vulnerability while establishing healthy boundaries. their presence can foster a deep sense of trust, encouraging both partners to explore the depths of intimacy without feeling overwhelmed. however, the weight of saturn's energy can also lead to rigidity or fear of intimacy, causing the saturn person to impose boundaries that may feel constrictive to the 8th house person. they might struggle with balancing their protective instincts with the need for emotional openness, potentially leading to misunderstandings and emotional distance.

8th house person: for the 8th house person, the influence of saturn can evoke a mix of feelings around resilience and boundaries, prompting them to confront deep-seated fears and insecurities. positively, they may develop a greater sense of self-discipline and emotional maturity, learning to navigate their vulnerabilities while establishing stronger boundaries in their intimate relationships. the presence of saturn can encourage them to take responsibility for their emotional well-being, fostering a sense of resilience in facing the challenges that arise. however, the heaviness of saturn's energy can also feel daunting, leading the 8th house person to experience anxiety around emotional closeness. they might struggle with feeling constrained by the boundaries set by the saturn person, causing them to retreat or resist the very intimacy they crave, leading to tensions in the relationship.

couple tropes: guardians of vulnerability, boundaries & bridges, the resilient souls, the healing process, teachers of trust, the emotional architects, commitment pioneers, shadows of doubt, the steadfast allies, transformative journey

uranus in 8th house overlay

uranus person: in this synastry, the uranus person brings a refreshing sense of independence and a desire for change into the 8th house person's emotional landscape, encouraging them to explore new dimensions of intimacy and personal freedom. on the positive side, this influence can lead to exciting experiences, as the uranus person inspires the 8th house person to break free from traditional boundaries and embrace their own unique expression of love and desire. the relationship can feel invigorating, filled with spontaneous moments and unconventional approaches to intimacy. however, the unpredictability that comes with uranus can also lead to instability, causing the 8th house person to feel anxious about the uranus person's need for freedom. if the uranus person leans too heavily into their desire for independence, it might leave the 8th house person feeling neglected or insecure, creating a push-pull dynamic that challenges their emotional connection.

8th house person: for the 8th house person, the presence of uranus can evoke a powerful sense of independence, prompting them to question their emotional attachments and explore new avenues of self-expression within the relationship. positively, this influence may empower the 8th house person to confront their fears and embrace change, fostering a sense of liberation and growth as they explore deeper aspects of intimacy. they may find themselves more willing to embrace the unknown and seek transformative experiences alongside the uranus person. however, this same energy can also lead to feelings of instability, as the 8th house person may struggle with the unpredictable nature of the uranus person's influence. if they feel overwhelmed by constant change or fear losing their emotional grounding, they might retreat or resist the very changes that could lead to deeper intimacy, leading to tension in the relationship.

couple tropes: revolutionaries of intimacy, wild cards, seekers of freedom, cosmic shifts, emotional innovators, the thrill-seekers, eccentric pair, the unexpected connection, freedom fighters, transformational journey

neptune in 8th house overlay

neptune person: in this synastry, the neptune person introduces a dreamlike quality to the relationship, creating an atmosphere rich in fantasy and emotional depth. positively, this influence can lead to a profound spiritual connection, allowing both partners to explore their emotional landscapes and desires in ways that feel transcendent and enriching. the neptune person may inspire the 8th house person to embrace their imagination and creativity, fostering a bond that feels otherworldly and deeply intimate. however, the downside of this dynamic can be the potential for deception and disillusionment. the neptune person's tendency to idealize or escape from reality may lead to misunderstandings, where the 8th house person feels confused or manipulated by the nebulous boundaries of their relationship. if the neptune person's dreams clash with the 8th house person's need for tangible intimacy, it could result in feelings of betrayal or unmet expectations, undermining the trust and connection they initially cultivated.

8th house person: for the 8th house person, the presence of neptune can evoke a heightened sensitivity to the emotional and spiritual dimensions of intimacy, prompting them to explore their fantasies and desires in profound ways. this influence can lead to moments of deep connection and shared vulnerability, where the 8th house person feels free to express their hidden emotions and aspirations. on the positive side, this dynamic can foster a sense of unity, where both partners engage in a mutually enriching experience that transcends the ordinary. however, the downside is that the 8th house person may struggle with the illusions and fantasies introduced by the neptune person, sometimes finding it difficult to discern reality from deception. if they become too enmeshed in the neptune person's dreamy world, they might feel disoriented or disappointed when faced with the harsh truths of their relationship. this struggle between fantasy and reality can lead to feelings of insecurity, especially if the 8th house person feels that their emotional needs are not being met.

couple tropes: dreamy lovers, the escapists, spiritual seekers, the mysterious pair, idealistic visionaries, the intuitive connection, the fantasizers, the illusionists, soulmates, healing bond

pluto in 8th house overlay

pluto person: in this synastry, the pluto person brings a deep intensity and transformative energy to the relationship, often compelling the 8th house person to confront their own issues of control and empowerment. positively, this dynamic can facilitate profound personal growth, as the pluto person encourages the 8th house person to embrace their own power and delve into the depths of their emotions, leading to empowerment and resilience. the transformative nature of this connection can foster a sense of shared purpose and a bond built on trust and mutual understanding. however, the intensity of pluto can also lead to power struggles, with the pluto person potentially exerting control or manipulation, causing the 8th house person to feel overwhelmed or trapped. if the pluto person's desire for control overshadows the relationship, it may lead to feelings of resentment or fear in the 8th house person, ultimately hindering the transformative potential of their connection.

8th house person: for the 8th house person, the influence of pluto can awaken a deeper understanding of their own power dynamics within relationships, prompting them to explore themes of control and emotional vulnerability. positively, they may find themselves feeling more empowered to address their fears and insecurities, leading to profound personal transformation and healing. the intensity brought by pluto can encourage the 8th house person to embrace their own desires and assert their needs within the relationship, creating a sense of empowerment and depth. however, the weight of pluto's energy can also provoke feelings of fear or inadequacy, especially if they sense the pluto person's intensity as overwhelming or controlling. this struggle with power can lead to emotional push-pull dynamics, where the 8th house person oscillates between embracing their newfound empowerment and retreating into self-doubt or defensiveness.

couple tropes: transformative duo, the power players, intense connection, the shadow explorers, the emotional alchemists, catalyst for change, trust builders, the bond of secrets, resilient survivors, fated connection

all observations are done by me !!! @pearlprincess02

main masterlist

[sykoangels]

Please Please Please

pairing: gender neutral!reader x satoru!gojo

content warning: angst!! slightly toxic relationship (mentions of satosugu)

author note: Please please please don't prove I'm right

part one! : taste

Dating Satoru Gojo was always an exhilarating adventure. His charismatic personality, quick wit, and unpredictable nature made every moment with him unforgettable. His charm, coupled with his striking looks, created a magnetic allure that was impossible to resist. He possessed the typical imperfections of a human being, but something was unsettling about his specific flaws. The biggest one that you noticed is that he’s in love with his ex, Suguru Geto.

A few weeks ago, everything changed when he unexpectedly encountered his ex at a local coffee shop. As they engaged in conversation, Gojo's gaze towards his ex, Geto, seemed strikingly reminiscent of thows used to look at you, but with an added intensity and fervor. It was as if he had found a new lease on life, s if the world had suddenly become more vibrant and alive while he was gazing at Geto. Initially, you didn't pay much attention to it ,thinking it was just Gojo being his usual charming self. However, as time passed, you started noticing more peculiar occurrences, leading you to the realization that you will never be the one Gojo sees when he kisses you or engages in any romantic behavior—he only sees Geto.

You had grown increasingly distant from him. No matter how hard he tried to initiate intimacy or plan a special date night, you always seemed to have an excuse ready. Whether it was claiming to be not in the mood or using your workload as a sorcerer as a reason, you were just finding ways to avoid spending time with him. Deep down, you were tired of constantly feeling like you were playing second fiddle to his ex, who always seemed to be his number one priority. This feeling of being sidelined was something you couldn't stand.

As you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, you heard Gojo's footsteps approaching. Your heart raced, not with excitement but with dread. You closed your eyes, feigning sleep, as he entered the room. "Hey," he whispered, his voice gentle. "Are you awake?" You remained still, your breathing measured. You felt the bed dip as he sat beside you, his hand hovering over your shoulder before retreating. "I know you're not asleep," he said softly. "We need to talk." Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, meeting his piercing blue gaze. Even now, his beauty took your breath away, but it was tainted by the knowledge that his heart belonged to another. "What is it?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

Gojo sighed, running a hand through his wild white hair. He took a deep breath before finally speaking, "I know things have been off between us lately. And I also know that you're avoiding me. I just want to understand why." You sat up, facing him with a neutral expression. "You know why," you replied, your voice devoid of emotion. Gojo's frown deepened. "I don't understand. Is it something I did? Did I say something wrong?" "It's not about what you did or didn't do, Gojo," you said, feeling the anger bubbling inside you now. "It's about what you still do." He looked confused for a moment before realization dawned on his face. "You mean Geto?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze anymore as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. "Every time I look at you, all I see is the way you look at him," you whispered. Gojo reached out to touch your cheek, but you flinched away from him. "Please don't," you said softly. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "But please believe me when I say that Geto and I are over. He's just someone from my past." "Then why do you still look at him like he's the only person in the world?" you asked, your voice breaking.

Gojo sighed again, looking defeated. "I can't explain it," he said honestly. "It's like a part of me will always love him, no matter what happens between us." "But where does that leave me?" you asked, feeling the pain and insecurity consuming you. He reached out for your hand this time and gently took it in his own. "With me," he said firmly. "I may still have lingering feelings for Geto, but my heart belongs to you now."

You couldn't believe the words coming out of Gojo's mouth. It just sounded like pure bullshit to you. How could he claim to love you while still harboring feelings for someone else? It didn't make sense. "Gojo, I don't think I can do this," you said, pulling your hand away from his grasp. He looked at you with sad eyes. "Please, just give me a chance to prove it to you," he pleaded. But you shook your head, unable to trust his words anymore. "I'm sorry, Gojo. But I need some time to sort through my feelings," you said firmly before standing up and leaving the room.

The next few days were filled with tension and awkwardness between you and Gojo. You tried your best to avoid him, but it was impossible since he was your classmate and colleague. During missions, he would constantly try to talk to you and make things right, but you kept your distance. The thought of being with someone who couldn't fully commit to you made your heartache. One day, as the two of you were on a mission together, things took a turn for the worse. You were ambushed by cursed spirits and separated from the rest of your team. You fought fiercely against them, but there were too many. Just when you thought all hope was lost, Gojo appeared in front of you, using his domain expansion to protect both of you from the attacks.

Once the cursed spirits were defeated and the dust settled down, Gojo turned towards you with a worried expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, scanning your body for any injuries. "I'm fine," you replied coldly before turning away from him. “Why don’t you go protect Geto and make sure he’s doing alright because you only think about him?” you said bitterly.

Gojo's expression changed from concern to hurt as he heard your words. "Y/N, please don't say that. You know I care about you," he said desperately. You smiled at his words. "If you truly cared about me, you wouldn't have feelings for someone else. I can't be with someone who only thinks about their ex." He looked at you with a mix of sadness and frustration. "It's not that simple, Y/N," he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Then make it simple, Gojo. Choose between me and Geto," you said firmly.

He sighed and looked down at the ground before meeting your gaze again. "I can't just stop having feelings for someone overnight," he admitted. You felt tears prickling in your eyes as all your pent-up emotions came rushing out. "Then I guess we're over," you said, trying to hold back the tears. Gojo's eyes widened in shock and pain. "No, please don't say that," he pleaded, reaching out to touch your arm.

You shove him away before walking back into the school to gather your items. "Please prove me wrong, Gojo.. because you constantly keep fucking embarrassing me," you said with a dark glance and sadness in your voice.

Gojo sighed, watching you walk away, feeling his heart sink, knowing he had lost someone great to him

[littlefireball]

Can we so get a version of Seongwha like F*ck away the pain? Seongwha is a clean freak so I'd love to see this side of him

Here you go~~ btw there is an exact same request lol

Other members (fk away the pain series): yeosang

ꜱʜ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ꜱ*x (ᴀ/ᴍ)

ʙᴜɴɴʏ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ x ꜰᴏx ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ|ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴋɪꜱꜱ|ʙʀᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ|ꜱᴇx ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴘᴇʀɪᴏᴅ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.9ᴋ

You and Seonghwa have been apart for a week. It was unusual for you both to be separated for so long, as you were used to spending everyday together. There was no choice, however, a pressing matter awaited at the residence that demanded immediate attention.

You neglected to inform Seonghwa of your early return, opting instead to delight him with a surprise. Stealthily making your way into the house, you caught sight of him seated in his favorite chair.

"BA~BY~~" You leaped onto Seonghwa's back, unaware of the fact that he was holding a cup of noodles. "Goodness gracious!" Due to your unexpected jump, he inadvertently spilled noodles all over the legos.

"Oh my…" He straightened up abruptly, releasing your grip from his neck. "Have you returned?" His expression soon shifted from surprise to a hint of annoyance. "Well…yes. My apologies." Sigh "Let me clean up first" The tension in the air was palpable, especially since it was his beloved limited edition legos that was now in disarray.

His silence left you speechless, unsure of what to say next. Okay, look at what you've done. The entire desktop became a mess, not to mention his legos were all dirty─what he hated most as a clean freak.

"I'm sorry…" He glanced at you with impatience." "Can you be careful next time? You know it's hard to clean oil stains?! " His composed demeanor swiftly shifted to a slightly fierce one, his voice escalating in volume. His outburst, unlike anything you've witnessed before, sent a shiver down your spine. Coupled with your current irritable mood due to menstruation, his unexpected anger only fueled your own frustration.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" You shouted back. "But you are the one who made this mess!" Despite your strong urge to argue, you chose to maintain silence. Observing him meticulously restore his legos while muttering to himself, you swiftly retreated to your room to grant yourself solitude.

Feeling aggrieved, tears began to flow. Normally, you wouldn't cry easily, but the fact that you were on period slipped your mind. What followed such a display of emotion? The excruciating cramps that grip your stomach relentlessly. You gasped in agony as your body contorted in pain. Clutching your stomach, you struggled to sit up straight, let alone to take painkillers or call for help.

"Y/N?" Upon tidying up the desk, he pondered whether he had been too harsh with you, prompting him to seek you out but you had no response. 'Was she still angry?' "Y/N?I come in now." To his surprise, he found you huddled in a cocoon of pillows and blankets, your complexion pallid and your expression distressed.

"Y/N?Are you okay?Are you in heat? But there is no scent…" Alarmed, he hurried to your side to assess your condition, only to discover that you were in pain. You looked pale, drawn, and sweaty, as if something was torturing you.

"It's just on my period…" "Is it painful?But you won't be hurt before. Do you want some water?Or painkillers? Or something?" He gently caressed your head, his eyes filled with concern. You shook your head, taking his hand and placing it beneath your cheek. "I'm…fine…" Your furrowed brow betrayed your true feelings. As a fox hybrid, you knew that intimacy could alleviate menstrual pain, but you couldn't bring yourself to ask him. How could a rabbit, so obsessed with cleanliness, agree to such a request?

"Sorry, hwa.I didn't mean to. I know I am sweaty now and I'll wash the sheet." You pouted, your fox ears dropped.

"Why are you saying sorry? It's fine, baby. Let's not talk about this, okay? What can I do for you to reduce the pain, hm?" He comforted you softly while caressing your fluffy fox ears.

"Please don't be mad…" You hugged the pillow filled with his scent tightly, said "I want you…fuck me…" "Yo─you said what??" "Intimacy could reduce menstrual pain in foxes…" You hesitated, avoiding his eyes as you nestled into the soft pillow. A heavy silence lingered, intensifying your discomfort. It was no surprise that he reacted this way. He probably viewed you as unclean and not willing to help you.

"Forget what I said…I'll take the painkillers…seonghwa?" Strangely, you found him not in the room. Your attention was drawn to a faint noise, the gentle clinking of objects brushing against each other. As the door creaked open, Seonghwa stood before you, clutching a dry towel, a wet towel, a box of tissues and a plastic bag.

After placing down the objects on the table, he climbed over the bed, gently leaving your thighs and putting the dry towel under your body. "Hwa?" "It's okay, honey, I'm here to help you." As you watched him lift up your dress and pull down your panties, you held his hand to stop him.

"It's dirty…You don't have to do this, I can take the pill." He pecked at the back of your hand, whispering gently. "Taking too many pills is not good for your body and let me make it up to you. I'm sorry I was too tough." "I'm sorry, too."

Seonghwa caressed your head and placed a kiss on your cheek, giving you a sweet smile. "Let me help you then." With utmost care, he placed your foot on the ground, positioning you on the bed in a L shape. He removed your panties and set them aside, ensuring not a drop of blood tainted the fabric. However, upon witnessing the sight of your bloody hole, he hesitated momentarily. "It's fine, hwa. I can drink some hot water to reduce the pain…" "Everything is okay, honey." He wrapped up the condom before aiming at your entrance, slowly entering without hurting you.

Your tail puffed up as his cock fitted you perfectly, causing you to bite your lips not to make a sound. "Let me adjust first, honey." Wrapping by blood was weird, he could tell. It was hot and sticky, but indeed was a good lubricant. He found he can slide into your deepest part thanks to your blood. Maybe he could feel better just by thinking that it was not your blood but cum.

Slowly, he adjusted the feeling and thrusted into you. You were so sensitive that you moaned at the slightest touch to your sweet spot. "Fuck, honey, you are sensitive." He propped himself with both of his arms on either side of you, drew his hips and slid into your deepest area until he could not go further. "Ah~hwa~" The bed creaked as Seonghwa rolled his hip at a fast pace, you grasped the bedside and moaned choppy.

"I can't baby, it feels good." His hand trailed to your tail, caressing from bottom to top. He knew you loved it, badly. "Oh─oh!Gosh, hwa~ah!" Your wall tightened around his long cock as the numbness almost overwhelmed you and the period pain was gradually replaced. The musk scent belonging to you filled in the air combined with his sweet strawberry scent, fueling the desire within your bodies.

Seonghwa laid beside you and made sure the towel was still in the right place. "I love your scent so much." He couldn't help but bury himself into your crook of neck without breaking the thrust. Both of your left leg and tail were pushed forward to allow him to enter deeper. His hand trailed down to the hem of your dress, climbing up to your breast, kneading and squeezing it.

The electrifying sensation cascaded through your being, causing you to gasp in delight. You adored the way his form molded against yours, his imposing presence making you feel petite, while his intoxicating aroma surrounded you like a warm embrace, promising endless waves of ecstasy. You could cum multiple times because of this feeling.

But that's not enough. He licked the back of your ear, the sound of his tongue against your skin stimulating your nerves, making you tremble; his lips gradually moved downwards, planting shallow kisses on your nape, sucking on your fine skin, leaving faint red marks.

"Honey, are you okay right now?" His soft voice made you awake temporarily. "Yah, yah." He stopped thrusting and cupped your face, made you look at him. "Can I go rough?You can say no if you don't want to." "I can, please." Upon hearing your answer, he flipped you over to make your chest pressed against the sheet.

"Tell me if I'm too rough." You nodded, sensing the bed dip under his weight. He smoothly slid you once more, pressing against your back, his cock buried deeply in this particular angle. Contrary to the tenderness before, he pounded in and out with primal intensity. "Shit!!Fuck!Hwa!" Your derriere quivered with each rapid thrust, the delicate caress proving irresistible. He groaned uninhibitedly, reveling in the sheer pleasure of it all.

Seonghwa grabbed your hair and pulled it back a little bit, allowing him to leave a bite mark on your neck. "It's beautiful." Pressing a kiss on it, he sat up straight and continued to enter in and out as fast as possible. You were on the verge of losing your breath due to the pain and stimulation coming from below, and could only express your excitement through desperate screams.

His hand once again found your long tail, kneading it as if it was a ball. "Hwa…hwa…" "What if I pull it, a bit?" He pulled your tail slightly, pain blended with pleasure and numb, this sensation sent you to the edge of climax. "Hwa, I'm…oh fuck, ple…"Your cries of pleasure were now intertwined with the sound of weeping. You were rendered speechless, unable to form coherent words, only producing incomprehensible sounds.

"Tell me, what'd you want?" "Cum…Fuckkk!!" He collided with your sweet spot without any error. "Cum baby, let me feel you." Closing your eyes tightly, you could feel a knot in your stomach. His thrusting became sloppy and lost his rhythm, he was almost at his limit. With a few more thrusts, both of you reached your peak.

"Thank you, hwa." "Don't say this, honey. You're amazing." Catching his breath, he slowly withdrew from your body to ensure you can feel every vein of his manhood. "Clean up first, little fox. Stay still." He carefully took off the condom without dirty his hand, threw it in the plastic bag and cleaned you up with tissue and wet towel.

"Let's go take a bath first and I'll change the sheet, hm?" He pecked at your forehead as you nodded. After you showered, he already changed the sheets and all the pillow bags. Of course, all the rubbish was thrown away, and even the towels were put in the washing machine.

"Cuddle?" He guided you to the bed as you nod, cradling you tenderly in his arms. "Is it hurt now?" You shook your head, feeling comfort in his warm embrace. "It's much better now, thanks babe." He tenderly kissed your forehead, his eyes filled with affection. "Let's sleep, hm?" You snuggled closer to him, and together you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

And the legos? Well, although he said it's fine, you still buy ten more packages for him as a make up. One can never have too much of a good thing, right?

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 14

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, smut eluded to briefly, mentions of typical BAU type stuff. If any of y’all are my ao3 ppl, bless you & thank you for all the extra comments & chatting about this story! I absolutely love hearing all your thoughts/opinions/what you think is gonna happen. Like, yes please, send me your full book reports! Everybody gets an A++

After last chapter; for anyone who might want to look into more Heather Dunbar, all her works can be found here

Your eyes twitched, daring to open long before you wanted them to and you stifled a yawn, shifting slightly in the bed. As your senses came to you could feel Heather’s arm very loosely thrown over your waist, though it wasn’t an act of intimacy and definitely wasn’t cuddling. You’d accidentally fallen asleep in her bed the night prior before she could even bring you a bottle of water, exhausted from the heat and sun and thoroughly fucked. She stayed up for another couple of hours before turning in herself and sometime during her sleep had rolled over closer to you, her hand flopping across your hip.

The chirping out the window became too much and you knew you weren’t going to get anymore sleep, no matter how hard you tried. Your eyes cracked open, looking at the clock on the nightstand, at least it was already past nine, you’d gotten a little bit of a sleep in. Tossing Heather’s arm off you, you groaned softly as you sat up, stretching out your body and rolling your neck, a couple of joints cracking as you did so.

“Why the hell are you up?” She grumbled, burying her face into the pillow.

“Our flight’s at noon.” You yawned, “I’ve got to start packing.”

“I own the fucking plane. We take off when I say we take off.”

“Check out is also at noon.” You chuckled, swatting at her hip as you stood from the bed, beginning to collect your clothes that were scattered across the floor.

“You really think I didn’t already pay them off for a three p.m. checkout?” She finally opened her eyes, rubbing at them as she looked up at you and you laughed softly again.

“Then sleep. I need to shower and pack and probably get a few things ready for the week, we were so focused on the retreat I know I must’ve been missing a few things back home.” You crossed through the open door back to your room.

“God.” She huffed, dropping onto her back into the pillows as she picked up her phone, “it better not be fucking snowing back home.”

“Heather please, it barely snows in D.C.” You laughed as you hastily folded the clothes in your hands, dropping them into your open suitcase as you glanced around the room. “Hey, is Rob still off on Sundays?”

“Yeah.” She called back, “he said something about wanting to make a late dinner tonight.”

“You think you can ask him to meet us at the jet?”

“Why?” She sat up, holding the bedsheet to her chest as concern took over her face, knowing just how much a week of travel and this amount of sun exposure could affect you, “are you feeling sick? I need you for that merger meeting.”

“I’m fine.” You cast a look over your shoulder as you wrapped a towel around you, “I’ve just got a date with Prentiss on Wednesday.”

“Sweetheart, you’re in the clear.” She assured and it was your turn to chuckle.

“Heat… how many people are you currently fucking?”

“In D.C?” She asked and you nodded, “three not including Rob. But you know I don’t let them fuck me and I don’t share toys.”

“Not the point. It was in the contract I signed and Rob is far faster and more convenient than me taking time off my precious and very important job to see my gyno.”

“I will call him and tell him what time to meet us.”

“Thank you.” You shot her a smile, digging through your suitcase for classy yet comfortable clothes for the plane ride home.

“If you’re going to all that effort you may as well come back in here for one last round.”

“Go back to sleep Heather!” You called back, disappearing from the doorway and Heather heard the shower starting a moment later, letting out a sigh as she dropped back into the bedsheets.

**

Emily could not wait a second longer to get out of this hell hole and back home, preferably without a stop at the BAU first. Every case was teetering the line on rough, things that no normal human would be okay with witnessing or being around and this one was no different. This time there was the added affect that no matter how hard the team tried, they were always a second too late, never finding a living victim, an hour behind the unsub every step of the way until they’d finally baited him into it. Not only was she exhausted and not looking forward to the amount of paperwork that was going to come across her desk because of this week, but she really didn’t want to get the lecture she knew was coming from Bailey.

She stashed her bag into one of the cupboards, retreating to the back of the jet to drop down into the corner seat, letting out a weary sigh as she ran a hand over her face, pinching at the bridge of her nose. She just needed to get home and she would be able to handle this. Thankfully no one else really wanted to socialize either, finding more private spots on the jet, curling up in seats and couches until the plane was at cruising altitude and most everyone was asleep. She dozed off a bit herself, thankful for the rest though she wished it was more when she stirred in her seat, eyes cracking open to find they were still another few hours from Washington.

A fresh mug of steaming and very welcomed coffee found itself on the table in front of her as Tara hovered in the aisle beside the quad of seats.

“You okay?” She asked gently.

“Yeah.” Emily replied with a huff, picking up the mug, “that just… fucking sucked.”

“Man it really did.” The other woman groaned, dropping into the seat across from her, “but remember…we got him.” Her hand reached out, squeezing at her knee, “he won’t hurt anyone else.”

“I just really wish we’d clued in earlier, could’ve saved a lot of people a hell of a lot of hurt.”

“I know.” Tara replied, “so do I.” With another squeeze of her knee she settled back into her chair, taking a sip of her coffee, “we’ll do better next time.”

“Mmm.” She nodded.

“Thanks, for the extra days off by the way.” Tara commented, noting that while they were heading home on a Sunday that Emily had made the call the BAU wouldn’t be functioning until Wednesday.

“You guys need it.” She sighed, “after a case like this, everyone needs time to disassociate and pretend like there’s nothing wrong in the world.” Her gaze drifted out the window, “JJ needs to see her family, spend time with them, hug them so tight it’s like she’ll never let them go. You better be going to see Rebecca; remember why we do what we do to keep the world safe….”

“And what about you?” She asked after a quiet moment, watching the way Emily’s face twitched as she stared out the window a moment longer before turning back to her and waving her off.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

“I know you have, and I’m not profiling, I’m doctor-ing, so you can’t lecture me.” Tara leant in on the table between them, “deny it all you want, but you have someone right now who means something in your life. It could be a new friend and that’s it, but it also could be something more and I don’t need to know any details right now, but I want to make sure you’re not just going home alone to a bottle of wine tonight.”

Emily huffed, taking another sip of coffee, “she was out of town this week, I’m not even sure when she’s back.”

“Hey…” Tara’s hand slid across the table, squeezing at her own, “whatever change you’ve made recently? It’s been a good one. You’ve been happier, more energetic, getting out of work on time and spending your weekends actually doing something. I haven’t seen you do anything other than work since we came back, so call her please… for me?”

“I’ll think about it, but I’m not making promises. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork and god knows Bailey’s gonna be blowing up my phone once he hears about the case.” She sighed,  though her lips curved up into a soft smile and Tara relaxed into the seat across from her, giving her a knowing look before Emily’s gaze drifted out the window again.

**

Once home you began the usual post travel routine, make sure to immediately unpack, dumping clothing directly into the laundry and setting aside those that needed to go to the dry cleaners. You sorted through your work bag, filing everything correctly, stashing half away in your home office and packing the rest back up to have on the go. A quick clean out of the fridge, tossing anything that had unfortunately gone bad over the course of the week before putting in a grocery order and deciding to rely on take out for dinner. Finally, it was time for a luxurious everything shower. It didn’t matter how expensive or fancy the resort was, you always preferred your own shower, the water pressure and temperature was perfect, you had all of your own skin and hair products and didn’t have to worry about taking too much time or how many other people’s feet had touched the tub.

You wandered back downstairs just in time for your dinner to arrive, making sure to leave a hefty tip for the driver as it was much later than you’d normally order and the weather was starting to turn. Not even waiting to fully unbox everything you dug a fork into the chow mein, your stomach growling heavily already, stuffing a few forkfuls into your mouth. When you turned to grab a bottle of wine your eyes landed on the practically overflowing recycle bin and glancing over to the calendar you let out a groan, it was getting picked up in the morning, but only if it was in the alley.

With an annoyed sigh, you grabbed a sweater, shoved on a pair of slip-ons and grabbed the bin to trek through the yard and dump in the appropriate place. Back inside you locked the door behind you, a shiver moving through you at the chilly air lingering in your kitchen as you washed your hands and finally poured out a glass of wine. A sip of that and another mouthful of noodles and there was a knocking coming from the front door. A quick glance to your phone confirmed you hadn’t missed anything so you padded over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open to find Emily on the other side.

“Hey.”

Your voice broke her out of her trance of worry, fully registering that she actually had shown up at your door in practically the middle of the night. Her eyes flicked over your form, her shoulders relaxing at just how cozy and at peace you looked, leggings and loose sweater, your hair still damp and messily braided to keep it out of the way while your face was bare of any make up.

“Hey.” Emily replied, mimicking your soft smile. Her ears picked up the sound of laundry going in the distance and she spotted your work bag sitting right inside the entry, eyes flicking up to the kitchen to your barely touched take out and she suddenly put it together, wincing, “oh shit! I’m so sorry, you just got back.” She couldn’t help it, glancing over her shoulder as if it would be a better idea to retreat to her car, “this is outta line, I should’ve called. I just… man today really fucking sucked…”

You practically snorted at the out of line phrase, your hand reaching out to pinch at her elbow, waving her into your home, “it’s fine, come on in.”

You lead her into the kitchen, urging her to take a seat at the island as you stripped off the sweater, now back in the warmth of the house. “Wine?” You asked, opening the cupboard, “or something stronger?”

“Something stronger, please.” She grumbled, running a hand over her face. She glanced up at the sound of you sliding a tumbler of bourbon over to her and her eyes landed on the cotton ball stuck to the inside of your arm, “are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You asked, looking over your shoulder to her as you stashed the bottle back in the cupboard and she gestured to your arm. “Oh,” you let out a small huff of a laugh, ripping the band aid off and tossing both into the garbage, “yeah, just had some blood taken.” You slid back onto your stool, picking up the carton of noodles and gesturing to the others, “you hungry?”

“No, thank you.” She let out a weary sigh, taking a long drink of her booze.

“Emily… are you okay?”

She glanced up at you, her eyes flitting between your oh so cozy aura, the barely touched food, prime wine that you were trying to enjoy and she let out a huff, nearly pushing back from the island. “god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just shown up like this.”

You managed to catch her hand before she had managed to actually push her stool back, “Em… I said it was fine.” You squeezed gently, urging her to sit back down and she did.

“It’s just.. I’m not exactly.. uh.. up to my normal caliber and definitely not in the headspace for our normal activities…” She nearly avoided your gaze and you let out a soft laugh.

“And that’s perfectly fine.” You reassured her, nudging her glass closer toward her, “compensation doesn’t always have to be sexual. There’s an entire other dynamic to it, companionship means support too. Contrary to what you may think, I do actually enjoy spending time with you and that will always include outside the bedroom.”

She let out a deep breath, “my brain is still trying to sort out the whole sugar baby situation and I think I’m just overcomplicating things. I kind of figured it was a sex for money but make it…morally legal.” She nearly laughed at her own words, pulling a small grin from you.

“There are plenty of sugar baby relationships that don’t even involve sex. Some people are just lonely, or scared of doing things by themselves so they have someone go with them to lunch, movies, opera, the theatre. Hell I’ve heard of a few old married couples where the wife has a passion for arts and the husband would much rather sit at home with the game on, if he doesn’t have to suffer through it himself, he has absolutely no qualms with a much younger man escorting his wife.”

“So I really am overthinking things?” She asked, looking back up to you with a soft smile and you chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“I still feel bad about intruding on your evening.”

“It’s not like I had much planned.” You shrugged, “now c’mon, help yourself to food, I’m definitely not going to finish it all.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Em..” you warned, “when was the last time you ate? Truthfully.”

“Before we got on the jet.” She winced and you cast her a glare.

“We’ve got noodles, rice, beef and broccoli or ginger chicken.” You pushed the containers toward her, “help yourself.”

She picked up a fork and the container of rice, taking a couple of bites while a comfortable silence took over the room and she was finally able to relax a bit. It was then that she started to realize more of the meaning behind your words, and why she was so drawn to showing up at your house in the first place (and why Tara had been so insistent on it). If she had just gone home she would likely be pouring over case files and attempting to get as much paperwork done as possible to get ahead before Bailey got into things with her. Sleep wouldn’t have been an option until it was all done, she definitely wouldn’t have eaten and a bottle of wine would have been her best friend. Instead being inside your kitchen felt warm, welcoming, simply having another human in the same room made her remember that there was so much else to life than just work. Things didn’t have to be so dreary and boring all the time.

“How was Florida?” She asked after a few moments.

“It was decent.” You shrugged, “secured a good amount of supporters, got some up and comers onto our ideas, reminded myself I’m not actually terrible at tennis and managed to only have my ass grabbed four times while congressmen tried to teach me how to golf.”

“Ew.” Her nose crinkled and you laughed, “I hope this doesn’t sound bad, but do you… have to like, play dumb a lot around them?”

“Oh no, I actually am completely horrible at golf. And you only get one chance to truly play dumb around them before they realize how much potential you could or do have and only certain ones feed into the dumb, some see right through it.”

“So you’ve got to know how to read them even quicker?”

“Yup.” You took a sip of your wine, “Heather always said it’s best to slide in with a hint of sensuality, let that be the bait and you have a matter of minutes to figure out whether you’re going low or high status to get them wrapped around your finger. The guys, it was go low. Do I have a very successful career with one of the highest ranked Senators in the country? Of course, but that completely slips their minds on a retreat like that when I’m wearing a cute outfit serving them drinks filling the role of cart girl.”

“Huh.” She replied, digging through the container before taking another bite and silence took over the room again. Though this time there was something lingering in the air and after a few minutes you chose to speak up.

“I take it your week wasn’t as good?”

Emily let out a heavy breath, “just a really bad case. I don’t want to drag you down with details but it was one of the worst we’ve seen in a while and in the end we barely caught the guy.”

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it? I promise I can handle the gory details; Tony never holds back; I actually think he over exaggerates to make himself sound cooler…”

“Tony?” Her brow furrowed.

“Agent friend.” You replied with a shrug.

“Ah,” she poked around at the rice again, “and no, but thanks. I think I just really didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Alright.” You cast her a warm smile, closing the lid on your take out as you stood from the island. You were full and Emily had done nothing but play with her food for a while now, you were sure she wasn’t going to eat anything else. “How about we take the bottle of wine upstairs then?”

“Oh, but I—” she stumbled over her words and you laughed softly, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

“I’m not going to pounce on you, don’t worry. The tv in the bedroom’s nicer and it’s getting late, may as well fall asleep in the bed rather than have to drag ourselves from the couch later.”

She let out an awkward laugh, closing the rice container and sliding it over to you, “oh, right.”

You looked back at her, reaching your hand out as she slipped off her stool, “C’mere.” Tugging her to you she let out a little ‘oop’ as your arms wound around her, wrapping her into a tight hug. A wave of relief crashed over you as she let out a content sigh, relaxing into the embrace and the tension in her shoulders finally began to drip away. You pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head, squeezing at her once more before gently pulling away.

“Thank you.” She murmured softly, giving you a tired smile.

“Anytime.” Your hand trailed down her arm, curling around hers as you turned to the staircase, “now come on, you need some good cuddles and sleep, number one recommendation from doctors after a rough week.”

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog

[sorceresssundries]

Shades of Green

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Tav finds herself in possession of a most revealing letter. Tempted and confused, she retreats with her thoughts to the silent sanctuary of a library. One-shot.

Warnings: Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Fucking Against a Bookcase...

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This is inspired by Atonement, and contains elements of the book/film but with a different plot and in a different universe.

Shout out to @heyitsjaki for the inspiration - this one's for you, babe!

The blanket of dusk had begun its descent, with the lingering warmth of the sun settling in for another stifling night. The open windows of the Elfsong tavern did nothing to cool the skin of the adventurers preparing themselves for the evening ahead; they just welcomed the sounds of a city slipping into a night’s reverie, as market stalls were swept away and parents chased giggling children off to bed. 

Tav had changed her outfit three times. Figaro had sent her out of his shop with a bundle of dresses, but she had struggled to pick the one most appropriate. The long-sleeved black ensemble, with its intricate lace, felt stifling against her sun-kissed skin, while the pale blue option left her feeling too juvenile for the occasion. Eventually, she settled on a backless silk number which echoed the emerald of her eyes. It skimmed and spilled over her body as though it were made of liquid.

She was trying lipstick and appraising herself in the mirror when she heard footsteps behind her; footsteps with no reflection.

“You look divine, darling.” Astation’s voice was as silken as her dress but with none of the comfort. She ignored him, knowing where this was leading.

“I assume there will be nothing to my… taste… being served at this dinner party?” He drawled. 

"If you're wondering whether Rolan will be serving goblets of blood at his inaugural hosting as master, I'd venture to say it's highly unlikely." It had been a mere couple of days since they had efficiently removed the former master of Ramazith's tower. Grateful for their assistance, Rolan had extended a formal dinner invitation to all involved—a chance, perhaps, to both express his gratitude and showcase his newfound position. Though the timing might not have been perfect, the prospect of an evening away from the Elfsong, wearing clothing absent of bloodstains, held collective appeal.

“Well, then we find ourselves in a bit of a tricky situation, my sweet.”

Tav turned round to face him, and caught his eyes roaming her body.  “There’s no need for predatory looks, Astarion.” She kept her voice clipped, businesslike. Theirs was an arrangement which she had always kept uncomplicated, despite his occasional attempt at complication. “You may take what you need, as long as you promise to be on your best behaviour this evening.”

“Aren’t I always?” He flashed his roguish smile and approached her with barely concealed hunger. She sighed and tilted her head back to allow him what he needed.

“You smell like warm vanilla” Her murmured as he inhaled against her skin, before pressing his lips against the thrumming pulse of her throat and sinking his teeth into her. The second her taste kissed his tongue, he moaned instinctively. She was the first bite of an apple after a day of starvation. The feeling of it was always over-personal, and despite Tav having no romantic attachment or desire towards him, there was a soft flush of intimacy which came from the feeling of him gripping her and basking in her taste. It almost felt like worship. Tav let out a gentle gasp as he gave one final, meaningful swallow and then stepped back, panting. She knew it took restraint to stop, and she appreciated the effort and, well, manners, of him prising himself away before he was asked. They were both breathless, her a little dizzy, and he handed her a handkerchief from his top pocket to press against the bleeding puncture wounds on her neck. 

“Thank you darling” He bowed his head “That will make the evening much more bearable.”

Upon leaving Tav’s room, he bumped into Gale standing outside the door holding a letter. From his tense posture and grim expression, Astarion guessed he had been there long enough to catch wind of the vampire’s early evening snack.

“Hear anything interesting?” Astarion lilted, relishing the hardness in Gale’s usually soft eyes. “You know, she certainly is delicious.” His voice was a silken purr which Gale wished to choke from his throat. The scarlet of Tav’s blood had left a smear at the corner of his mouth, sin-red and mocking. 

Their relationship had always been tense, and that tension had only tightened when Gale became aware of his and Tav’s bloody arrangement. He did not know the details of it, or how much of herself she gave to him during these trysts, but he knew that she deserved better than to be the bloodbag of a leech, or the plaything of a roguish manipulator. His fierce feelings on the matter occasionally spilled into his interactions with Tav, a fault he felt much guilt over. He hated feeling like this, possessive over something he did not even own. He loved her, and sometimes love felt like fury. He was determined to make things right.

Astarion’s cheeks were slightly flushed from the blood which now bloomed through him. Her blood. Gale had heard his moan, her gasp, their shared breathlessness; and had wanted to burst the door open and stake the vampire where he stood. He gripped tight to what little composure he had, and focused on not crumpling the letter in his grip. The veins in his forearms were raised in tension, and resembled cracked bolts of blue lightning against his tanned skin, shooting out from where his sleeves had been pushed up. His breathing was slow, considered; but flared.

“I heard enough.” Gale stowed the letter away in his back pocket, but not before Astarion’s eyes glimpsed it. Gale was not a man who dealt out threats like trump cards, he had always preferred a battle of wits over blades, or the cut of a sharp word over a knife, but he was not above displaying violence if necessary. He felt like it may become necessary. 

“If I ever hear that you’ve taken a drop more than she is willing to give, there will be no shadow dark enough to hide you from me.” Gale asserted, his tone measured. “Besides, our little journey will be over soon, and I’m sure you’ll be back to your previous self in no time.” He took a step closer, and wiped away Tav’s blood with his thumb. “What a shame it would be to make an enemy of one who can conjure up sunlight.” With that, Gale walked away, unaware that Astarion's swift fingers had liberated the letter from his pocket.

It lay temptingly in Astarion’s hands, and without a moment's hesitation, he indulged his curiosity, devouring its contents with the same gluttonous reverie as he had Tav’s blood. There was a beat as he re-read it twice, shocked at what the restrained Wizard had written. "How delicious," he mused, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. With a calculated nonchalance, he slipped the letter under Tav's door, and slinked away with a cocky grin.

Tav had forgotten how to breathe properly. The handwriting was unmistakable. The ink was his deep purple. It even smelled of him. 

Dear Tav,

 In my dreams I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt.

In my thoughts I make love to you all day long. 

Gale.

She felt she had missed something, somewhere, in their short time together. A code she had not cracked, a riddle she had failed to solve. He was affectionate, flirtatious occasionally, charming always, but after spending so much time touch-starved and lacking company Tav had assumed his feelings were akin to those of a drowning man who had been thrown a rope from a passing ship. She had longed for him many times, she had even pushed the thought of a fierce kiss into his mind one magic-filled evening, and he had pulled away…

She had hoped that after Elminster eased the urgency of his condition, that maybe something would come of it. That he would find his way into her tent one night and let himself come undone after a year of being bound so tightly. But he had not. She had not pushed it, he was a man burdened and she did not want to add to it.

She could not think of this now. Not here. Not when they were about to spend an evening in the company of their friends. She re-read the note again and felt herself flush, if only he was aware of her own dreams, of the temptations that whispered and caressed whenever he tensed his muscles in arcane focus, when the sweat borne from summoned fire beaded his brow, or when his voice sank low to pull measured incantations from the depths of his muscled, hair-smattered chest. She shuddered, and fanned herself with no relief. She could not think of this now.

The hours at dinner ached onwards, with Gale sat just out of Tav’s direct eyeline. He was on the opposite side of the food-laden table, a few places along - and he was so aware of her that she may as well have been the only other person in the room. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, lips painted with a colour that made them look bitten. He wanted to deepen the colour with his teeth. He thought her dress made it look like art, she looked like poetry, like no artist would ever be tongue-tied or word-blocked again with her for a muse. Ironic, really, with how thick his tongue felt in his mouth just from looking at her. He thought her dress was the most silken, tempting, beautiful thing he had seen someone wear.

 It was perfect, and he wanted to ruin it. 

Tav had been avoiding his gaze all evening, afraid for him to look at her and see the truth. She was convinced it was waiting there, unabashed and obvious, and with one glance would be pulled from its poorly concealed hiding place. To look at him now would be stupid, reckless, dangerous. Her eyes flicked up, and he caught her. 

He was dark fire, He was looking at her the way a caged man would look at freedom, like she was the bright crack of light through prison walls or the sound of the ocean to a land-locked seafarer. She thought he may drag his searing eyes away, as he had done so many times before, but he did not.  He did not even attempt to simmer his gaze. He stared at her with an intent that kissed fire down her spine, she needed relief from it before she smouldered into ash. 

“Excuse me.” She breathed out an apology to guests who were paying her no attention, and with as much silence and grace as she could conjure she swept from the room, feeling the silk of her dress dance along the floor behind her. 

She poured herself through the first door she found. A library. Dimly lit and, thankfully, empty. What a relief, here there were only book bound spells and dusty stories to witness her unravelling. There must have been thousands of books here, and hers was the weakest spine in the room. 

The truth of it was, she was afraid. Something had now changed, and could not be changed back. The group of them still had challenges, battles and decisions ahead. Overdue justice would be delivered and fresh blood spilled, with a high chance that blood would be their own. Losing herself to her feelings for Gale, acting upon her fantasies, spiralling further into loving him would potentially be an act of selfishness and hard-headedness she couldn’t justify. She wasn’t sure if by keeping herself distanced, she had been protecting others or herself. If she let it, that distance would force itself closed, and she did not know what the outcome would be.

But.. his note… The weight of his lettered words were notched in the fragile space behind her eyes, like the forceful pressing of a typewriter on delicate paper. Even if the ink of the confession could somehow be washed away, the shape of it was indented into her. 

She would allow herself a few moments of stillness, in the silence of the library. How odd, she thought as she gazed around. She was in a room with vast, precious knowledge - and none of it really mattered. No piece of paper would ever matter as much as the one which had slipped like a secret under her door. 

A soft creak announced Gale's presence in the doorway. His posture was formal, his expression obscured by the dim, flickering candlelight. All evening he had been unfairly distracting in fitted suit trousers and a crisp white shirt. A smart black bow-tie had once adorned his collar, but the stifling heat of the lingering party had caused it to come undone, and it now hung loose and forgotten. Several buttons on his shirt had been unfastened, offering a glimpse of his chest hair and the bruise-coloured orb beneath. Against his olive skin, the white fabric seemed to deepen his complexion, accentuating his rugged features, and his sleeves were pushed up to reveal the firm muscles of his forearms. So much for her moment of stillness.

“Are you alright?” He moved towards her and she could not retreat from him even if she wanted to. She was against the bookcase at the far end of the room, there was no stepping back from him now. “You seemed… flushed at dinner.”

“Quite alright.” Her tone was more brusk than she intended it to be, more formal than she wanted. 

“I thought maybe Astarion took more from you than was necessary earlier.” His tone suddenly had a sharp bite to it. “My mistake, it appears you are both perfectly satisfied.” 

She did not like his implication. “Did you have a thorough listen? Before you delivered your sordid little letter?” 

There was a beat of silence, and the air shifted, the hard aura of him became soft and panicked. He didn’t say anything, though Tav had the feeling he was reaching for something to clutch at. She didn’t let him get to it. 

“Does it taint your dreams, knowing that he feeds from me? The dreams where you kiss my sweet, wet cunt?” The words were fired with archer's accuracy. She regretted it the moment it was said. “I’m sorry” She was flustered in her apology, “I shouldn’t have..”

“You should never have seen that letter”

“You slipped it under my door?”

“No. I did not.” 

Their breaths were heavy. Anger and tension and built-up frustration crackled through air made of gunpowder.

“So…You did not mean what you wrote?” Gale thought she almost sounded disappointed, and he clutched onto that thought with desperation and fanned it till it burned.

“That’s not what I said.” 

Out of self-consciousness, or awkwardness, or just to find something for her hands to do, Tav fiddled with her hair and moved it back off her shoulders. The innocuous motion allowed Gale full view of those two, small puncture marks. They were still slightly pink, the area around them bruised. He moved forwards, and her breath caught in expectation of being kissed. Instead he stood, jaw tight, brows stern and brushed the bite marks with his thumb, barely touching her. 

“It does not taint my dreams, but it does haunt my days.” His voice was a slip of envy. His thumb stayed at her throat, but his fingers moved to caress her jaw, tilting her head upwards so they were locked in another heated stare. Tav finally understood.

“I am not his. I never have been” she pushed herself up lightly on her toes, until her nose brushed against his and their breaths became each other’s. “I am yours.” 

The match was lit. He pressed himself fully against her and she bumped back against the books with a gasp caught in a blistering kiss. His hands ran along the cool silk and grasped at it in swathes, as all his pent-up need for her came crashing down in the silence of the library. It took all his resolve not to rip it to silken tatters. She gave one sweet, quiet moan against him and he lifted her up, pinning her against the bookcase before slipping a hand between them, to discover she was not wearing underwear. 

“Too hot” She breathed, her words dancing with laughter. 

“I’ll say.” Gale growls, and with a swift, single-handed undoing of his trousers he pushes his hard cock inside her. There is no time for grace, or teasing, or even manners. She is wet enough, and he needs to fuck her. 

They were not silent, their breaths were heavy and Gale swallowed Tav’s soft moans against his tongue, but there were no more words. There would be other times - Gale would make certain of it - where he would pour obscenities into her ear, where he would brand into her every sordid thought he had ever had, and relish teasing primal, guttural sounds from her sweet, parted lips. 

He had fantasised about her in worship and in sin. In silent libraries, in cold cramped tents, or in back rooms of rowdy taverns. He envisioned teasing her relentlessly until she succumbed to shuddering release with just a few deft strokes of his tongue, or seizing her from behind in the secluded alcove of a crowded bar, losing himself in the depths of her until he surrendered to blissful oblivion without even making eye contact. He wanted the burning, consuming intimacy of knowing her in every way a person can be known. In the softness of her body and the sharpness of her mind. In his thoughts he made love to her all day long, and in his reality he was determined to do the same. 

But for now, he could only growl as he fucked her hard against the bookcase of the library, with the muffled sound of chatter and laughter audible from the party next door. 

“Gale..” Her voice was staccato and lust-soaked and as loud as a gunshot amongst the dusty shelves. He put his hand over her mouth to keep her ecstasy contained, and struggled himself not to cry out in pained pleasure when she bit him. The way she was splayed like an open book before him, his hand pressed against her, controlling the flutter of pages, her spine flattening against the bookcase was maddening. In this position, with her pinned by the desperate, aching weight of him and using a foot perched on a rolling ladder and a hand gripped in his hair to anchor herself, he can feel each quiver and shake of lithe muscle. A bowstring pulled tight for too long, threatening to buckle and release. 

This was it, he thought, his reason for living. Not her exactly, not just her, but touch, hope, sweet torture, and succulent moments that would satisfy both the hungry and the starved. Gods, was he starved. Starved and craving to spend the rest of his life full of her. He couldn't thrust himself into her as hard and recklessly as he would have liked, not like this. Her position against the wall relied too much on the press of his hips and chest against her. Instead, he ground and rutted into her, ensuring his pressure hit her in every place she needed it. The silk of her dress caressed her skin, some of it draping between her legs and over where the two of them were connected. It was becoming soaked. Ruined. Just the way he wanted.

She began to ripple, still waters turning to coursing tides. The grip on his hair became tighter, and when she came the fluttering of her tight cunt was enough to force him over the edge with her. 

In the hazy, burnt-out aftermath of passion, hope glowed. Gale never relented in his affection; he wrapped an arm around her waist to gently guide her feet back to the floor. Cupping her flushed cheeks, he bestowed worshipping kisses upon the freckles of her face, trailing down her neck and shoulders with a soft, peaceful touch. The air between them was delicate, mingled with breathy satisfaction. He pressed kisses to her lips, another and another, as she giggled quietly, gently—a sound just as precious and intimate as the ones she had offered when she came against him.

“I love you.” He whispered, and she thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard. She said it back, and suddenly the thing that could not be changed was spoken. Bound. Sealed. 

“I was going to give you a letter this evening.” Gale continued with his forehead resting against hers “A different letter. There were two in my pocket, the one you received was just.. erm…”

“Catharsis?” She offered with a smirk.

“Something like that, yes.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a letter. A twin to the one from earlier in all except content. 

Dear Tav, 

Please forgive me for my jealous behaviour. The truth is, I feel rather foolish and light-headed in your presence. Tav, I don’t think I can blame the heat! Will you forgive me? 

Gale

She laughed loudly at the ridiculousness of it, of how polite and genteel his carefully crafted words were. At how he must have scrawled the other letter in pent-up desperation, only to put it aside and instead craft this… feathered, dainty thing. She wasn’t sure which letter she preferred, but she knew they were two sides of a precious coin. The two sides of him. 

“I think we can assume you are forgiven.” For a few more intimate moments, they make the most of the library’s silence.

“Do they think they’re being subtle?” Karlach’s brash voice is suddenly heard from the other room. Despite their illusion being shattered, the sound of her laughter mixed with Gale’s drowned out Tav’s fear. She would embrace change, and him along with it. 

[xperienceblixx]

For the past few decades there has been a progressive attitude towards finding new directions in sexual relationships, particularly in developing affection and contact. Conscious kink and couples sex therapy are two methods that have become valuable tools for couples in the United States looking to rekindle intimacy, trust, and excitement in their relationships. At Xperience Blixx, we understand that fostering a safe and meaningful connection requires understanding, open communication, and the right tools to help couples explore themselves and each other fully. By combining conscious kink practices with therapeutic insights, couples can create a more intentional, satisfying, and honest relationship dynamic.

[midnightcrw]

Intimacy can be a daunting journey, and for Simon, it was a path filled with uncertainties. As he lay on the bed, his shirt off, and the mask removed, he may have seemed like an ordinary person to most, but you saw the vulnerability within him.

You recognized his struggle and the genuine desire to overcome it, so you decided to take it one step at a time. The first step was a simple kiss. Those initial pecks gradually evolved into light, tender make-out sessions.

With a reassuring look, you moved further down his body, and Simon responded with a subtle nod. As you nestled your face in the crook of his neck, your feather-light kisses sent shivers down his spine. Your one hand held you up while the other delicately clasped his, creating a lifeline for him to express when it became overwhelming.

Your lips trailed down to his chest, every kiss paying homage to the scars that told the stories of his past. Each delicate touch made Simon's heart race, a sensation he wasn't accustomed to, especially directed at his own body. Unbeknownst to him, tears welled up in his eyes, not out of disgust or discomfort but from the overwhelming flood of emotions as a couple of tears started to stream down his face.

In the past, Simon might have retreated into his shell, frozen by the vulnerability, but with you, he squeezed your hand ever so slightly. Not because he hated the touch of yours, but because it was all he could handle today.

Feeling his response, you lifted your head and wiped away the tears with your thumbs, your expression reflecting concern and guilt. Guilt, for possibly pushing him too far, a haunting reminder of those who had hurt him in the past.

Simon's eyes were glassy, yet his face remained gentle, free of any frown. "Did I go too far?" you asked, your voice trembling with concern. Simon, his heart now racing with affection, shook his head and planted a tender kiss on your lips. "You didn't, love," he whispered hoarsely.

With you, Simon was discovering a new kind of strength, one born out of love and trust. His past had been rough, leaving scars both seen and unseen, but with you, he found the courage to try again. He wanted to touch you, to feel you, but he was also cautious of being taken advantage of for his vulnerability.

You, however, were showing him a different way – a way to set boundaries without feeling like a liability. And to Simon, that was everything.

[randomshyperson]

Mess is Mine - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Being divorced from Wanda Maximoff implies never getting over her.

Warnings: (+18), language, brief smut, divorced ladies who are very still much in love with each other, unspecified age gap, marriage going wrong, hopeful ending, mild angst, fluff.| Words: 3.949k.

A/N-> There's this divorced couple in a Brazilian soap opera with so much chemistry in their scenes together because of the intimacy gained during marriage (even though that didn't work out) and they won't leave my tik tok ; at some point, my brain thought about this fic. I would love to write more of this trope in the future.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Wanda had a persistent migraine, and the pile of work in front of her was not helping.

Still, all her stubborn brain could focus on instead of her real job was the stupid headline of the gossip magazine on her desk.

A cheap and badly angled photo of her ex-wife with colorful captions that read 'The newest business killer couple?" and dozens more insinuations about a secret high-society romance made her stomach churn.

Wanda tried not to be affected by the gossip, but you looked so happy in the photo that she couldn't help it.

The sudden opening of her door made Wanda jump in her seat, in one quick pull close the magazine and sigh with relief when she saw it was only Natasha.

"Why are you here?" Her long-time friend and co-worker asked. Wanda frowned in confusion.

"It's still my company..."

Nat rolled her eyes, walking into the office and taking long strides to her desk. "I meant in here, smarty-pants. The event is starting in an hour, the staff wanted some words of encouragement or something."

Wanda sighed wearily, massaging her forehead with one hand. "Can't you do that for me, Nat? I gotta make some calls."

Nat hummed in agreement, but her gaze caught the closed magazine on the table and she raised a brow at her friend. "One of those calls includes your ex-wife, I suppose."

Wanda chuckled dryly, taking the magazine out to one of the drawers and adjusting herself to reach the desk phone. "There's nothing else for me to say to her."

Her friend hid a smile that said that she didn't believe this one bit. "Okay, whatever you say. See you later, boss."

Wanda waved goodbye, with the phone to her ear. Her immediate instinct was to dial known numbers but she shook her head to push that ridiculous idea away and went back to work.

Several hours after the peak of the event when the company was filled with guests, from potential clients to journalists looking for any news like vultures at the carrion, Wanda was at her second glass of champagne, trying to keep the rest of her patience intact after having answered so many questions for gossip magazines regarding the headline from earlier in the day.

She absolutely did not want to discuss a possible romance between her ex-wife and the heiress of Bishop Industries. 

Years before, any of them would have been afraid to question her about something so ridiculous, but that was before you came along. And melted your way into the Business Ice Queen, the untouchable Wanda Maximoff, or whatever insensitive nickname they invented about her back then. Before breaking down all of Wanda's walls, making her a better person, and of course, before you left her.

It was definitely the alcohol's fault that she was thinking about this, and with these stupid tears welling up in her eyes. Wanda swallowed all the emotion, burying it deep and making sure that no one had noticed her broken expression. With an excuse to a group of investors who were boring her into a corner, she retreated to an area far away from the company's outdoor gardens, taking a deep breath to calm herself. The beautiful view of the state lake was most welcome.

So of course the reason for her almost minor breakdown had to show up wearing her favorite suit.

"Are you running away from your guests, Maximoff?" Your tone was casual, the smile provocative. She snorted to herself, crossing her arms and keeping her eyes on the lake. You didn't mind, walking over to her at a slow pace until you were beside her on the edge. 

"I just needed some air." She merely replies. With one hand in your pockets, you adjust your own hair, and Wanda hates that she can smell the shampoo, her body betraying her and shuddering as if your scent were addictive. 

"You're avoiding me today." You comment lightheartedly, studying her face. "I arrived an hour ago and it took me almost all this time to find you."

Wanda forced a smile, finally facing you back, but her angry look made you hesitate. "I thought your chaperone was keeping you busy."

You glanced back at the party, stealing a quick check on Kate at the food stand, chatting with a blonde girl, before turning your attention back to Wanda.

"I forgot how hot you get when you're jealous."

Wanda huffs away, her cheeks burning which she tries to hide by staring at the lake. "Don't even start." She warns between teeth. 

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, but don't insist. You turn your attention to the lake as well. "I wanted to let you know that the boys have already arrived in King Cross. I spoke to them and Charles on the phone."

"I know, Pietro texted me." She retorts more harshly than she meant to and bites the inside of her cheek as she sees you lower your head in upset. With a sigh, she mumbles, "I meant, thanks for letting me know."

You smile, nodding before turning your gaze back to the party. "What do you think of Miss Bishop?" 

Wanda locks her jaw; How dare you honestly. A list of curses lays ready on the tip of her tongue, but she remembers where you two are, and takes a deep breath. You were clearly trying for some kind of reaction from her, and she's not going to let you have this victory today.

"She's beautiful." Wanda replies. "As young as you were when I met you."

You chuckle shortly, raising an eyebrow at her. "What are you implying, Maximoff?"

Wanda shrugs her shoulders softly, turning to leave. "You're quite clever, Y/N, I'm sure you follow." She hits back, but you step forward into her path. You are suddenly too close, and Wanda finds herself holding her breath. She needs to take a step back to avoid stopping breathing for good.

Your eyes stare into theirs. "Not that this is any of your business, darling, but my relationship with Kate is strictly professional."

You assure her in a low tone, and Wanda swallows hard as your gaze moves down to her lips for a long moment before focusing on her eyes again. A smile forms on your mouth next. "Besides this, I've always had a thing for older women."

Wanda sighs heavily, using all her mental control to pull away at once. "Go pay attention to your chaperone, Y/N. Especially if she's a potential client."

You roll your eyes at the business tip; you already know them by heart, the vast majority learned from Wanda. And your ex-wife makes mention of leaving, so you slide your hand down her forearm gently, taking some amusement in seeing the way she shivers.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, Wanda." You let her know, with a serious tone but a tender look. The redhead swallows dryly at the closeness of your faces now that you're standing side by side, your hands connected. "Later, after the party, okay?"

"I-I..."

"It's important." You assure her, knowing her hesitation is so as not to break your agreement about relapses. With a gentle expression, you insist, "Please, it won't take more than five minutes."

She licks her lips, and you almost kiss her. Lucky for her she agrees and walks away because God knows you would have done it, right there in that garden for all the New York reporters to have a week's news about.

Without Wanda's perfume around you, you take a deep breath and try to clear your mind, having to wait a few more minutes in the garden for your heart to stop beating so fast.

As the event nears its end and Wanda needs to give a closing speech, you say goodbye to Kate before the parking area. You ignore all the journalists who try to insinuate something about you having taken the girl to the car and exchange a glance with Wanda in the small crowd before moving toward the elevator.

Wanda has always known you so well, and with a nod, she knows exactly where she has to go.

Her work floor is completely deserted as she makes her way to her own office. But she still closes the door as she enters, letting out a tired laugh at your figure sitting on her armchair.

Her smile fades when she sees what you are reading.

"Headlines nowadays are getting creative..." You wryly chuckle, laughing at your ex-wife's caught expression. "It says here that I might have an eye to the Bishop's fortune. How silly, you gave me almost half of yours in the divorce, why would I need more money?"

"Very funny." Wanda dryly retorts, reaching up to snatch the magazine from your hands with a tug, and raking the item into the trash afterward. She crosses her arms as she looks at you. "What did you want to tell me?"

You flashed a small, sideways smile. "You used to be more polite when you wanted to sleep with me. At least offer me a drink."

Wanda chuckled dryly, rolling her eyes and begrudgingly moving to the personal bar in the corner of the room. If she leaned over more than necessary to grab one of the whiskey bottles, aware that the position in the chair gave you a full view of her ass, neither of you said anything about it. She hid her satisfied smile as she heard your breath hitch at the image, and you hid your own reaction as you cleared your throat and looked away.

Shortly thereafter, two shots of whiskey were served on the glass table in front of you. But before the toast, you declared:

"I'm leaving."

Wanda frowned, and when you made mention of taking the glass, she placed her hand on your forearm. "Speak."

You chuckled, staring her in the eyes. "I closed a contract with the Ten Rings folks. They want me in Korea for the next four months."

Wanda lets go of your arm as if she had been burned and steps away from the table with an indecipherable, but very disturbed expression.

"B-but the boys.." She tries to formulate, but you rise from the armchair with a sigh.

"They'll be at school." You retort, even though firm, your gaze is almost pleading. For what, Wanda doesn't have the heart to wonder. "It's not as if they stay with us all the time, Wands. The boarding school takes up this time quite well. It will only be four months, and they've already invented the telephone and internet, you know?" You try to joke, but Wanda hugs her own body and faces you.

"Why are you here, then? You've traveled before."

"Not for that long." You say, taking steps toward her, and mentally thanking heavens that she doesn't pull away. "And not... not since we made the divorce official."

"Y/N..."

"I know, I know." You murmur with a sad smile, raising your hands to her arms uncovered by her dress. "Maybe it's stupid, but I wanted to make sure we're okay. That it won't be something...I don't know, that hurts us."

"More than a divorce? I find that difficult." She replies with restrained emotion in her husky voice. You sigh.

"Wanda..."

"No, you're right. It was stupid." She cuts off, pulling away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Of course it's okay. But I appreciate that you respect the concept of shared custody. I imagine the kids already know?"

"Yes, I told them before I took them to the airport." You mutter upset, watching Wanda walk away to the window. "But Wands, I wanted to tell you in person..."

"And why is that, huh?" she retorts with an impatience that makes you flinch. And for this, Wanda loses it for good. "You know, I don't understand you! You left me! You filed for divorce, you wanted to break us up. But you keep showing up here, and at home, and everywhere, and now you want to come here and say you care-"

"I care, Wa-"

"Then why did you leave me?" she shouts back, almost regretting it when she sees the tears in your eyes. You laugh tearfully, shaking your head.

"We've had this conversation dozens of times, Wan." You say, much calmer than she is. "But you just can't accept that you're wrong, can you?"

"Right, I forgot that I'm the villain in your story." She sneers, wiping her face with the back of her hand. You give another sad laugh.

"I wish it were that simple, darling." You tell her, taking slow steps toward her. "If you were just the villain, the bad wife, the evil boss, everything would be easier. I could hate you, curse your names to all my friends, and spend all the divorce money on expensive, empty things out there, but it's not like that. You forget the part that I love you and tried to fight for us until the last second."

Wanda sobs quietly, looking down at the floor, "Don't do that, Y/N."

"But it's true, baby, you know. I'm not the one who broke any promises, Wands. I just got tired of begging for crumbs of attention from the person who swore to spend the rest of her days with me."

Wanda lifts her chin, and the determination in her gaze doesn't do justice to the tears. "You knew how much my career meant when you said yes."

You smile sadly, taking one last step to get close enough to hold her face. Wanda shudders as you wipe away her tears, as you have done so many times before, as if no time has passed and everything was fine.

"I am so proud of you, Wands, for all you have accomplished with your work. I only wish I had been as important as this building." 

You place a long kiss on her forehead, pulling away afterward. You offer her one last sad smile before closing the door on your way out. Wanda starts to cry as soon as you have done so, even though she tries very hard to keep her tears away.

–//–

You burned a pancake to answer the door, but all the irritation over the ruined dish vanished when you saw Wanda standing in front of you.

It had only been a few days since you had last seen her, and now all the furniture in your apartment was already packed away and covered with rags, prepared for the time you would be away. Wanda's party dress gave way to a casual suit that made you swallow dryly and become self-conscious of the sweatpants and sports top you were wearing. Wanda wouldn't have picked anything better.

"Are you going to let me in, detka?" Wanda asked with some teasing for your moment of shock. You immediately recovered, making room for her to enter and closing the door once she was in the hall. "Sorry for disturbing your breakfast. I wanted to see you before your flight."

"Oh, don't worry about it. And I'm not going until the afternoon." You clarified somewhat clumsily by her presence, one hand still holding a spatula and the other adjusting your hair. "I made pancakes if you'd like..."

"I would love it." Wanda assured with a smile that made your stomach twist. It wasn't fair that your ex-wife got more beautiful every time you looked at her, honestly.

Wanda followed you back into the kitchen, and to both your surprise, you fell into a light conversation about work and the boys while preparing and serving food, completely different from the tone of the conversation the last time you had seen each other. 

But it was a time bomb, of course, so you weren't surprised when Wanda suddenly bit her lip, assuming a more tense posture. 

Finishing chewing your pancakes, you asked:

"Why are you here, sweetheart?" 

Wanda raised her eyes to you, and you stared back at her, patiently for her to clarify. 

"I wanted to say goodbye to you properly." She said, spinning her own stool around first before tipping her hands around yours to spin you toward her. You raise a brow in curiosity, but the question of what she was doing dies in your throat as she leans in and brings your lips together. 

It has been exactly three months, eighteen days, and sixteen hours since you last kissed Wanda, and you only realize how much you missed the feeling when she does it again. It's as intoxicating as it is overwhelming, and you gasp into her lips, breaking the kiss at once as you stand up, taking good steps away from the countertop.

"Wanda, we talked about this." You remind her in a husky voice, pressing a hand over your face. It's ridiculous how much your skin is burning and your heart is racing for something that lasted less than three seconds. "No relapses. You promised-"

"It's not a relapse." She assured, reaching up and grabbing your hands to place them around her waist. You grunted at the sensation, closing your eyes as Wanda slipped hers over your shoulders, too close for you to think about anything other than her. "It's a parting gift. So you'll have a reason to come back."

"W-what...?"

Wanda presses closer and brings her mouth to your ear. "Just stop overthinking it and accept the gift, detka."

With encouragement, she bites the lobe of your ear, and you give up resisting.

With a tug on her waist, you bring your mouths together in a kiss much hungrier and more passionate than the first, which elicits loud, almost primal moans of need from both of you. Wanda pushes and pulls, and by the time you stumble to the back of the living room couch, your pants are already open and there's nothing covering your torso; much like the woman in front of you, who as soon as she throws you sitting up against the cushions, your breathing out of rhythm and your lips swollen from kissing hard, makes a show of removing the rest of her clothes.

She has time to smile mischievously at your look of pure adoration at her completely naked body in front of you before you pull her onto your lap by her thighs. Wanda climbs on you with a needy grunt, burning from the inside out in anticipation for you to touch her again.

Your touches are almost desperate, your kisses mark her skin. It is your gift, but you also seem determined to make sure that Wanda has the memory of this morning for quite some time. 

When your mouth closes around her nipples, she whimpers to the ceiling, arching her back and steadying her hands in your hair, a soft plea that you not stop.

"Yes, baby, just like that." She encourages over the stimulation on her nipples, breaking into an excited whimper when you simply use your free hand to masturbate her. At any other time, you would have taken your time to work her up until she was begging for your touch, but now, in the urgency you two were sharing, it wasn't necessary. She was ready for you. 

Your fingers penetrate her without delay, and Wanda digs her nails into your shoulder, breaking into a breathless moan. You give one last hickey on her hardened nipple before you move your face back up to hers, kissing her with intensity as your fingers dance inside her walls with the mastery of one who has done this a dozen times, one who knows her like the palm of the hand she so deliberately grinds against in the intention of relieving herself.

"G-god, detka! Right here!" She breaks the kiss into an affected moan, practically meowing as you repeatedly hit that sensitive spot inside her. The wetness grows in your palm, Wanda oozes into you, and to help her, you bring your free hand to her hip, coordinating her movements as she begins to fail. "I-I'm going to..."

"Don't talk, show." You interrupt her with a proud little smile, moving your mouth down to bite the sensitive spots on her neck. "Come to me, baby, I've got you."

That's all she needs to reach the first climax of the morning, and she is not surprised that you don't stop at the first. Or the second, or the third.

You are on your knees on the living room floor when your first alarm goes off. Breathing as out of breath as Wanda, on the couch with her torso exposed and her legs spread from which you against your will need to remove your face to turn off the alarm when you pull away.

She covers herself when you disappear to the kitchen because she knows it's because of the flight, and when you return, the cell phone goes on the coffee table and you sit on the floor next to her on the couch. 

There is a long silent pause, where only your breaths can be heard. Wanda skirts a hickey on her own thigh and you sigh.

"We shouldn't have..." But you can't complete, it because your voice fails you as if you are going to start crying. You look away, and Wanda lets herself fall to your side on the floor, where she reaches for your hand.

"Detka, look at me." She asks, and you have to wait a moment until you sniffle and do so with difficulty.

"I told you it hurts me, Wands. I can't-" You take a deep breath. "I can't heal if this keeps happening. There’s no getting over you if we keep doing this”

She shakes her head. "I don't want you to get over me." She says and you huff, trying to pull her hand away, but Wanda squeezes. "I love you, you know I do."

"Love is not enough." You retort bitterly, your eyes filled with tears. "Loving me doesn't mean you won't hurt me. Nor that you won't ignore me. Those are just words, Wanda. I haven't felt loved by you in a long time."

She releases your hand from the shock of your words, and watches you create a physical distance between you as you walk away. You slip away to the bedroom, muttering that you need to get ready for the flight, and she tries to make a decision the whole time you are in the shower.

When you return to the room, wearing a set of travel clothes, Wanda is wearing your sweatpants and her own dress shirt. Your chest aches to see her wearing your clothes again.

"Wanda, you'd better go, my flight-"

"I love you, detka." She cuts you off with eyes bright with determination as she stares at you. You swallow dry, but can't resist when Wanda reaches up to touch your face. "I will make sure you know it. You'll know it so deeply that you'll be able to feel it in your bones. And you'll never doubt it again."

You sniffle lightly. "Wanda..."

"Don't worry about it now, detka." She interrupts you more gently, caressing your face. "Have a great trip. I'll be here when you come back home."

You sigh, and Wanda doesn't let you say anything more, kissing you in a calmer, but somehow much more intense way than before. 

She leaves the apartment before you, with a wink and a request that you call the boys before and after the flight. 

And even before she gets to the first floor, Wanda has already texted Natasha about her early retirement procedure after her well-deserved family vacation.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: i've been in a writing mood lately so i hope you enjoy me spitting out these stories left and right lol. anyways, here is part 3 to my housemate series. before you ask, yes there will be a part 4 and hopefully a couple more after that. let me know how you liked it and make sure to leave your feedback. thank you and enjoy!

This story contains: mentions of one-night stands, confessions of feelings, slight angst, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }

word count- 1,372

Harry confesses that you're the women he likes and after giving you some time to think, you have an eventful conversation about your mutual feelings and how you'd like to move forward within your friendship.

Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n." The weight of his confession leaves you standing in the kitchen, completely shocked. When you initially asked him about his love interest, you never anticipated that he would reveal his feelings for you. Although he described some of your qualities, you didn't think much of it, as many people can possess similar traits.

Realizing that you need some time to process his words, Harry rises from his stool and states, "I don't expect you to feel the same way about me or anything. I'll give you some space to think, alright?" With that, he turns around and retreats back to his bedroom.

Now standing alone in the kitchen, you find yourself torn about what to do. On one hand, the man who kindly allowed you to stay in his home as a housemate, who eventually became your friend, and whom you've developed feelings for, has just confessed his affection for you. It seems like the ideal outcome, but what if something goes wrong? You would risk losing your best friend and a place to live.

On the other hand, if everything goes well, you could finally experience a fulfilling relationship. You could put an end to the casual encounters and truly understand the intimacy that others have experienced in Harry's bed. You would have the opportunity to feel his touch on your skin and savor his kisses, something you had only imagined during fleeting encounters with strangers.

---------------------------

You head to Harry's bedroom and upon reaching his door, you give it a hesitant knock. A soft voice responds with, "Come in." and you take that as your signal to enter. Inside, you find him sitting up in bed with his cat Pixie beside him, and the TV showing old episodes of Friends.

Approaching his bed slowly, Harry gestures for you to sit beside him. After a deep breath, you confess, "I want you to know that I have feelings for you too, Harry. How could I not? You're kind and sweet, and anyone would be foolish not to have a crush on you. But, I'm afraid."

Harry turns off the TV to focus on you. "Afraid of what, Y/n?" he asks, "We both like each other. What's there to fear?"

"It's not that simple, Harry," you respond with a hint of frustration. Why can't he see your concerns? Maybe it's a gender difference. Men don't worry about relationships as much as women do. Well at least from your personal experiences.

"Can you explain then, please? I want to understand your fears so we can move forward in a way that works for both of us."

Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, you express, "Harry, what if things don't work out between us? What happens then? I could lose a friend and I might not have enough money to cover regular rent in London."

"Y/n, our mutual feelings don't automatically require us to rush into a romantic relationship. We can proceed at a comfortable pace, one day at a time. Even if we don't progress beyond friendship, I value our bond too much to risk losin' it. As for your concern about losin' a place to stay, rest assure that I would never evict you if things don't work out romantically. You were my housemate first and foremost, and that won't change. Well, unless you want to move out someday that is."

Hearing his words have made your eyes gloss over. You can hear the sincerity in his voice and it makes your heart swell. But, you still need some clarification to move forward. "So like, where do we go from here, Harry? I don't want to think we're one thing but you assume we're something else. I don't want to constantly be questioning where we stand. What's too much or what's not enough."

Harry adjusts his posture, leaning closer to you. He carefully reaches out for your hands and clasps them within his larger grasp, holding them gently as he begins to speak. "As I mentioned earlier, Y/n, we can take this slow. Let our connection develop naturally. At this moment, I would describe our relationship as friends, but friends who share mutual emotions. And in response to a question I know you may have, no, I will not be sleepin' with anyone else. And I don't expect..."

Anticipating his next words, you swiftly interject, "No, neither am I. I mean, being involved with someone else intimately. I can promise you that. Besides, I never truly enjoyed having one-night stands. I only sought them out as a means to conceal my feelings for you. But now that my feelings are out in the open, there's no reason to hide them any longer. From now on I only want you."

Chuckling in relief, Harry murmurs, "Just me, huh?" He was incredibly anxious that you might still have the desire to sleep with other people, even though that didn't make much sense after you had confessed your feelings for him. However, he couldn't be entirely certain.

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Harry's body, embracing him tightly. "Of course, Harry. I would never do that to you. Besides, most of the men I slept with were unsatisfactory, so I'm perfectly fine with giving up my one-night stands."

Harry reciprocates the embrace, then teasingly asks, "Unsatisfactory? Are you tellin' me those muscular, macho men you brought home hardly ever satisfied you?"

You respond, your voice filled with affection against his neck, "That's right. And when they did, it was usually because I was thinking of you."

"Alright, let's end that conversation right here or we'll have a problem on our hands and break our 'takin' it slow' rule." Harry remarks, trying to maintain a sense of caution. If you kept talking about how you always thought of him while having sex with all those strangers, he'd get hard in his pants and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable right now. Nor does he want to move that fast. Like he said, he genuinely would like to take whatever you are, slow.

You laugh at his words and playfully say, "Can we take a nap? I'm feeling tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Harry nods in the embrace you still hold and replies, "Yeah, we can take a nap if you'd like. I didn't get much sleep last night either."

As you sit up, you carefully shift towards Harry's side where he's preparing a space for you to rest. "Seriously?" you inquire. Although you noticed his exhaustion when he entered the kitchen earlier, you didn't consider that it might be due to a lack of sleep.

"Yeah," Harry begins to coo while helping you under his duvet, "felt awful with how I spoke to you last night. The guilt ate me alive and I couldn't sleep."

Now laying side by side, facing each other, you whisper out, "Awe, well you can rest easy now. I forgive you." As your eyes flutter shut, Harry can't help but think about how you're too far away from him. Even though you're literally just six inches apart in reality.

So without thinking, he draws himself closer to you and wraps you in his arms. Which in turn has you pressed up against his clothed chest. "Is this alright?" Harry whispers quietly. Although he wishes to take things slowly, cuddling is typically considered a leisurely activity, isn't it? It remains innocent and platonic.

"Yes, very much alright." you reply and soon after fall asleep. The musky smell Harry produces along with the warmth of his body lulls you right to sleep. It may be only nine in the morning but with your lack of sleep the night before, have no trouble falling unconscious.

Harry also falls into a deep slumber. The comfort of having you in his arms lulls him into a state of relaxation, leading him to quickly doze off. His cat Pixie has now settled at the foot of the bed, peacefully asleep alongside you both. Harry's once anxious room is now filled with tranquility. The unfolding of your friendship will become more apparent when you wake up later today.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

[myadmiringmind]

Days at Home | Peeta Mellark

Peeta Mellark Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Genre: Domestic fluff | slice of life

Pairing(s): Peeta Mellark x Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: A simple life has never felt so sweet.

Warning(s): Children (some ppl don’t like them), food, non-sexual nudity

Note(s):

Can be read as AU or not

Established relationship

Peeta and reader have children

Reader is able to have children

Children call reader “Mom”

|PICTURES ARE NOT MINE|

———————————————

You blink, your brain foggy in your half conscious state.

All you can see is darkness, but register the familiar warmth beneath you. Immediately you know it’s Peeta. His chest rises and falls as he sleeps peacefully with his arm curled around you protectively, keeping you close to him.

Peeta is always warm. Which doesn’t hurt now that fall has begun, but it does make it harder to leave in the mornings.

You snuggle up into him, your face going into his neck. Everything about him makes you feel at home.

Even though you try to fall back asleep you know it won’t happen. You savor the last few moments before you’ll push yourself out of bed.

But when you try to get up, Peeta’s arms tighten.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice is laced with sleep and you know he’s only barely awake.

“I’m going to get a shower.” You answer quietly

“What?” He uses his other hand to rub his eyes as he struggles through the haziness of sleep.

“I’m going to get a shower.” You repeat a little louder.

Peeta looks over at the curtains to glance outside, “The sun isn’t up yet. We can sleep for a couple more hours.”

You shake your head, the fact that he won’t be able to see it not present in your thoughts, “I tried, but I’m already awake. Go back to bed, honey.” Carefully moving off of his chest, you retreat back to your side of the bed.

Peeta protests, “Can’t sleep without you.”

“You sure? It’s pretty early.” You say with guilt from disrupting his rest.

Peeta’s nod is barely noticeable in the dark, “Maybe the shower will wake me up.”

You hear the bed creak, Peeta’s loud footsteps, and then the overhead light is turned on.

You flinch from the sudden brightness and hear Peeta chuckle, “Sorry, baby.” He sounds amused.

The sound of his heavy footsteps fill the otherwise quiet room while you rub your eyes.

You feel the familiar roughness of Peeta’s hand tilt your head up and give you a loving kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll go start the shower.” He says before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom.

You use the little time alone to pick out an outfit. You lay it out on the small ottoman at the end of your bed next to the outfit that Peeta chose for himself the night before. You laugh quietly at seeing the simple white button up with tan pants. He barely gets cold in fall.

“Better hurry unless we want to waste all of the hot water, sweetheart.” Peeta teases from the bathroom door.

-------------------

You and Peeta have been together for a little over ten years, so it’s only natural for the two of you to move in such a way that is familiar and routinely.

Peeta always lets you step into the shower first, he lets you soak under the warm water before it’s his turn. Then, he’ll pull you into his chest for a sweet hug, just letting the two of you bask into the warmth of each other. He’s constantly giving you kisses, on your shoulder, your neck, and your face.

One time, you were running late for an event and had the misfortune of a quick shower. The usual intimacy the two of you shared was skipped over leaving the both of you feeling a little more uneasy than normal.

In fact, it seemed to be the only thing driving Peeta’s mind that day as he would make little comments about his day not starting off right whenever given the chance.

It didn’t matter that the two of you were exhausted by the end of the day. The bath was still ran, and the two of you relaxed in there to make up for what you lost in the morning, even though both of you were on the verge of sleep.

The memory of that day effectively reminds you just how much the small moments you spend together matter to you.

Back in the present, Peeta’s hands rubbed up and down your back, making you shiver.

Your shower routine was done before you could properly savor it and Peeta was wrapping the soft towel around your body, keeping you warm after stepping out into the cool air.

“We have a few hours until the kids are up, what’s on your mind?” Peeta asks, rubbing your arms for extra warmth.

“Food.” You answer immediately.

Peetas laugh echos in your bathroom and your eyes catch his grin through the mirror.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

———————————

Peeta is an expert in the kitchen.

You’re not bad, but it’s obvious which one of you is better. You can’t really complain, anything Peeta makes you love. Maybe it’s because he grew up as a baker, maybe it’s because he puts love into everything he does, or maybe it’s just because you adore him.

You can’t say that it was a quiet morning, with constant chatter between you two, laughs, and kisses, it wasn’t at all quiet.

While your breakfast is in the pan, Peeta puts on a record containing music from your wedding. He sways with you, grinning at each other even when you're moving too slow for an upbeat song.

“The little ones will be up soon.” You comment, seeing the time on the clock.

Peeta’s arms wrap around your waist, his head on your shoulder, still swaying slightly, “Good, I don’t want to have to reheat the food for them.”

It was a classic breakfast. Fluffy chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, bacon, bread, jam (that you made from your fruit garden), and of course the bowls of fruit that you had picked freshly this morning.

“We should go wake them up then.” You said

You felt Peeta’s nod as he pulled you up the stairs.

—————————

Your eldest slept peacefully. You almost felt bad waking him up.

You moved to open the curtains, letting the natural light into his bedroom. You saw him stir at the unfiltered light.

“Hey bud, it’s time to wake up.” Peeta whispered, gently shaking him.

Your seven year old clutched his deer stuffed-animal closer to his body.

You walked over, and sat on the edge so you could shake him.

“Rise and shine, honey.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Slowly but surely, his eyes slowly opened.

“Dad?” He noticed you next, “Mom….is it time to get up already.” He mumbled

Peeta chuckled softly, “Yeah bud, we’ve got the whole day ahead.”

Your son only yawns in response.

“We made breakfast.” You offer, and your son pauses.

“What kind of breakfast?” He asks

“Pancakes, bacon, bread, jam, the whole feast.” Peeta answers

“Okay.” He pushes back the covers and stretches once he stands.

He gives Peeta a hug and a kiss first, then you bend down so he can give you one too.

“Let’s go wake up your sister.” You say, following your son out of his bedroom door with Peeta close behind you.

Your seven year old shuffles with his stuffed animal still in his arms. Your daughter's room isn’t far so it doesn’t take long before you’re standing outside her bedroom door.

Your son does a short courtesy knock before he opens up the door.

Like your eldests room, the curtains are drawn and the room is mostly dark. Your son immediately goes to his sister's side while you make your way over to the curtains.

Like your son, your daughter scrunches her face when the light pours in. You laugh quietly at how similar they look.

Your son whispers his sister's name and shakes her a little roughly.

“Be a little gentler, bud.” Peeta advises

The boy listens and shakes her again.

Your daughter lets out a little whine at being woken up.

“It’s time to get up, there’s breakfast downstairs.” Your son says softly, gazing at his little sister with expectation.

Your daughter tears up a bit at the idea of getting up.

“Good morning, honey.” You say, coming up beside your son, and kneeling down.

Peeta sits on the edge of the bed and gives your daughter a kiss on the forehead. You move some hair out of her face.

“Don’t wanna get up.” Your four year old cries.

“But how else are you gonna eat pancakes?” You ask, caressing her cheek affectionately. Internally, you coo at how precious she looks, even in her teary state. One glance at Peeta and you know he’s doing the same.

She looks at you in thought, obviously debating her options.

When she makes up her mind, she looks over at Peeta and raises her arms up, “Daddy!”

Peeta chuckles and effortlessly lifts her up into his arms.

“Let's go get your little brother up.” Peeta says softly to the two of them.

This time Peeta is the first out of the room with your daughter in his arms, then your son, and you right behind him.

When you were just outside of your youngests room, you see your daughter wiggle in Peeta’s arms, an obvious sign that she wanted down.

Your eldest, once again, gave a little knock on the bedroom door, and you even heard a happy giggle on the other side of the door.

“Come on, open it!” Your daughter urged her brother impatiently.

“I am!” He responded with a bit of frustration in his voice.

Peeta wrapped his arm around your waist and chuckled while you both watched them enter your youngests room.

Your one year old son was standing up in his crib with a happy smile on his face.

Your son and daughter ran over and said a chorus of good mornings.

You walked over and pulled your youngest out of his crib. Once you placed him on the ground he was given a couple hugs and kisses from his older siblings.

“Let’s go downstairs and eat bekfest!” Your daughter said, not quite pronouncing ‘breakfast’ correctly.

“Hold my hand.” Your eldest held out his free hand to his brother. But the younger just walked past him.

“Doesn’t seem like he wants to hold your hand right now, but you can hold mine!” You grinned teasingly, holding out your hand.

“I get to hold your hand all the time.” Your son dismissed already making his way towards his brother, ready to demand for him to hold his hand.

“I’ll hold your hand.” Peeta offered you, grinning as well.

“Who’s gonna hold my hand?” Your daughter cried, suddenly very distraught by the thought of no one holding her hand.

Peeta stooped down and picked her up with a little spin, causing her to giggle.

“I’ll hold you in one arm, and your mom’s hand in the other.” Peeta tickled her, drawing more giggles out of her.

“Sounds good to me.” You said walking over to the two blondes.

“Let us go down first mom and dad.” Your eldest told you, finally getting his brother to hold his hand.

“After you, bud.” Peeta encouraged, grabbing your hand and grinning at his daughter.

———————————

Breakfast was a blur of catering and attempted food fights. It only stopped when your seven year old declared he was going to get dressed and your daughter followed after him claiming that she wanted to get dressed too.

“I’d say that was a successful breakfast.” Peeta commented while eating a few pieces of fruit.

“I’m just glad they didn’t ask for cereal instead.” You laughed, taking the dirty dishes over to the sink. Since Peeta did most of the cooking you agreed to do most of the dishes.

“Mom!” Your daughter's voice cried

You were at the bottom of the stairs in a second, "What is it?” You questioned, scanning her for injuries.

“I can’t get this shirt on!” Her tiny lip wobbled from the top of the stairs, arms craned upward from where they were stuck in her shirt.

“Okay, I can help. Do you want my help?” Your shoulders relaxed at seeing her unharmed state.

Your daughter nodded.

“Everything okay?” Peeta asked, holding your youngest in his arms, the toddler nomming on a piece of fruit.

“Wardrobe malfunction.” You answered, climbing up the stairs.

Peeta nodded and went back into the kitchen.

“I don’t like this shirt.” Your daughter commented as you eased it off of her.

“You wanna pick out another one?” You asked, smoothing down the messy blonde hair on her head.

Your daughter nodded eagerly running towards bedroom, with renewed enthusiasm.

———————

You’d admit that you weren’t originally the most ecstatic at the idea of building a sandbox. The idea of having to clean all the sand off of them still gives you chills. However, it keeps them entertained and happy so you decide it’s worth it.

You and your husband laid on a picnic blanket, Peeta’s back against a tree and you in his arms.

It had been decided that since you were already planning on spending most of the day outside, you might as well eat lunch outside, hence the picnic supplies.

Now, the picnic basket that’s used more than you could’ve ever imagined is closed, all its contents drained except for your water bottles.

With fall your flowers and trees were going dormant for the winter, and you were already brainstorming flowers to plant in the spring.

“I’m thinking of Marigolds.” You comment after internal debate.

“Those are pretty.” Peeta says while stroking your hair.

“Do you think the kids will want to plant some?” You ask, looking up at him.

Peeta shrugs, “I think they will, but you can ask.”

You let your gaze shift to the horizon and notice the sun going down.

“Should we bring them inside for dinner?” You ask quietly, as if any louder would disturb the peace.

“No. Let’s watch the sunset first.” He kisses your cheek

——————————

To no one's surprise your children were quite hungry. They ate so quickly you were worried they were going to choke.

After they were done they were already exhausted, which made it quite the challenge to get them to take their baths.

Your daughter nearly fell asleep while you helped her change into her pajamas.

Then, before you could give her a single kiss she was out like a light, snuggling into her blankets.

Your sons waited patiently for their kisses. Though, you could see your youngest fighting sleep. Luckily, he wasn’t fighting for very long. After hugs and kisses from both of his parents he was out like his sister.

Your eldest was the last to be tucked in, enjoying his hugs and kisses while the three of you chatted a little bit about how the day went.

One thing is for sure, they will be well rested by tomorrow morning.

As soon as you quietly closed the door to your eldests room, Peeta pulled you into a hug.

He swayed the both of you lightly, making you want to fall asleep in his arms. You had done your own share of running around today.

He pulled back with a kiss on your cheek but didn't remove his arms.

"I love you." He said quietly

"I love you too." You replied with no hesitation.

"Thank you." Peeta said, confusing you a little bit.

"For what?"

"For giving me a better life than I could've dreamed of, for allowing me to wake up next to you everyday, for loving me."

You kissed his cheek, "I couldn't not love you. I can't imagine another person who could make me as happy as you do, or make me feel as loved as you do." 

Peeta's smile was so big and full of emotion that it made your heart soar, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. No matter how short or long, I want to spend it with you."

"Well that's good because I also want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Peeta chuckled, "It's cute you think I'd ever let you go." He teased

"Just shut up and kiss me."

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

———————

edited in 07/24/2024

[charliemwrites]

Some feral and keeper Price stuff..? I don’t mind what, honestly. Just bring it in, broski!!! Smut? Wouldn’t mind. Fluff? Wouldn’t mind that either!!! Angst? Would probably sob, but sure as hell wouldn’t mind that either!!!!!!!

Don’t gotta respond to this or go through with it, but I’ve always liked how feral and keeper price are due to feral being(I think?????) a little somewhat scared of Price, and im just overall interested and intrigued about how it would go and how it would be like if they ever had sex and any intimate moments, or if it would ever actually happen between the two or not (I damn hope it would..).

Tyt, thanks though whatever you do lmao. Not really much of a rush for this, though I’d love hearing what you might have to say/write for this little req thingy😭 Love the things you write!!!🫶

Hi, bean!!! Their relationship is always a fun challenge to write because it’s hard to pin down lol. But I’m pretty sure the last few (apart from that daddy post) has been angst between them, so let’s do some soft platonic intimacy.

Price is visiting again and you’re mad. Not at him, because he hasn’t actually done anything to you. And not at Simon because he warned you well in advance of Price’s arrival. You’re mad at yourself because you were fine all week until he walked in the door - and then that creeping instinct to run and hide reared up.

Youre forcing yourself not to this time, though you couldn’t help skittering across the room when he reached out. He just chuckled, gave you an amused look, and continued chatting with Simon.

He’s pretending not to see you creeping nearby. Your nervousness is manageable when he’s not looking directly at you. And when he is looking at you, you’re okay as long as there’s something between you two - furniture or Simon will do.

You’re making yourself sneak closer and closer, pausing and gauging with each step to see if he does anything. He’s got a bowl of pretzels that you’ve been eyeing, wondering if he’ll let you filch a couple while dinner is cooking.

Within touching distance now. He smells like cigars and nice cologne. You like it, dammit. Not as much as Simon’s scent…. but still good.

Just as you come too close for a quick retreat, his arm bends, a couple pretzels in hand, offering to you over his shoulder. You blink, hesitate a second.

“You want some?” he coos, tilting his head to watch from the corner of his eye. “Go on, little one.”

You pluck them carefully from his hand, sit back to safely eat them. He chuckles and leaves you be while you enjoy your treat. Simon is watching you with amusement from the other side of Price, a whiskey in hand.

When you’ve finished your pretzels, you consider. Check the wall clock. Still twenty minutes until dinner! No, no, you need a little more to hold you over.

You edge closer again, lean up carefully against Price’s back. He doesn’t even pause, adjusting to support your weight while keeping the conversation going. You brace and lean over his shoulder, reaching for the bowl of pretzels. He tugs them just that last inch to let your grabby hand get a few.

As you’re stuff one in your mouth, his other hand slowly comes up, telegraphing. He’s going to touch you. You hesitate, debate staying or going as you munch. Eventually his fingertips brush your cheek, then skim up into your hair to scratch gently. You lean into a bit until he hums and you catch his eye.

“See? Not so bad, wild thing.”

You twist, nip his arm, and then scramble over to Simon, who happily lets you clamber into his lap and steal a sip of whiskey to wash down the pretzels.