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lay-z · 7 months ago

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Kinda kinky, but made it domestic and fluffy. (I guess, idk...) Also, very long for some reason, sorry. MINORS, DNI! 18+ !!! Pairing: F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Established relationship; domesticity; fluff; consensual smut; masturbation kink; praise kink; some dirty talk; explicit language; cussing

It's Friday evening, barely past 8 pm, inside your apartment in the private 141 apartment complex on base.

After a late dinner – homemade lasagna with fresh ingredients, because you always thrive to get something proper other than MRE's into Simon's and your own system – you and your boyfriend are sprawled out on your large deep brown leather couch.

Cuddling, resting, and relaxing after a tough week of training and "important" briefings on duty.

The atmosphere is filled with contentment and coziness, while the delicious smell of lasagna and the fresh shower steam wafting into the open living space from the nearby bathroom, still linger in your shared apartment. The lights are off, except for the vanilla-scented candle you’ve lit on the white sideboard and the flickering lights of the TV screen illuminating the spacious room.

With the both of you now suffering from a food coma, Simon is laying on his broad back, taking up nearly all of the couches’ space. One muscular arm tucked behind his head on the armrest casually, the other hand playing with a few strands of your hair on the back of your head, his eyes half-lidded and glued to the large flat TV mounted on the opposite wall, currently playing the first episode of Band of Brothers, after you two had finally settled on something to watch – something you'd both enjoy.

Meanwhile, you're laying between his spread thighs, draped over him with your cheek resting on his lower stomach, your right hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over his lax abs with your flat palm and tracing the many faded scars while his tight black shirt is rucked up to his chest; his belly now slightly round and full, sporting a food baby, and thus not as hard and ripped as it usually is.

You can hear his stomach work as your ear presses against his pale skin, his gut already processing the food and sounding like a bunch of whale calls while his strong heartbeat fades into the background noise like a steady drum. It's an odd concoction of sounds, and you swiftly find yourself paying more attention to your boyfriend's bodily functions than your favorite war show playing on TV.

"What's so funny, eh? We're laughin’ at WWII now?" Simon asks eventually after your second quiet snicker to yourself, his deep voice sounding gruff and heavy with beginning fatigue, though it still carries that familiar dry, deadpan humor of his.

"Nope. Nothing," you reply with another breathy chuckle, patting and caressing his lower abdomen reassuringly. Perhaps a little bit too close to his crotch this time.

The sudden movement makes his muscles flex below your palm, and a low groan escapes Simon's slightly parted lips and both actions immediately trigger something within you, like a house cat being taunted by its owner moving their hand below a blanket.

"Don't... don't do that, luv," he chides you gently, cupping his free hand over yours to keep it still on his stomach, "Gimme another good thirty minutes, and I'll rock yer world." Simon tells you, stifling a yawn.

While he keeps your ministrations at bay with his mammoth hand, you prop yourself up on your other elbow with a small pout before you wordlessly begin peppering wet and hot kisses along his belly, down to his naval and lower abdomen, inhaling his masculine scent greedily while your nose nearly digs into his milky, scarred skin.

"Bloody hell, lass – don't, I –" Simon protests half-heartedly, sucking in a sharp breath, before another low groan slips past his lips as he shifts his body beneath you.

"Watch the damn TV and let me do my thing.” You mutter against his skin, though there is no bite behind your words, only teasing and affection – and burning determination. You two didn’t have any time nor strength for sex all week and you suddenly feel like making up for it now.

A low grumble vibrates in his chest in return and you know he wants to object again, but then he doesn't, because Simon is low-key just as horny as you are – he was just trying to be mindful, thinking you’re too tired to engage in anything sexual with him tonight.

"Always so goddamn bossy when we're alone," he mutters instead, clicking his tongue in mock exasperation, though a small smirk tugs at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“C’mere then, lovey,” he murmurs in his deep, gravelly voice, swiftly pulling his black T-shirt over his head and letting it fall down on the fluffy carpet next to the couch haphazardly, before he audibly pats his now bared chest in silent command with the hand that was previously tucked behind his head.

He needs to feel your lips on his first; ease in to this slowly before he might come too quickly; it’s been a week after all and Simon is only now realizing how tight his balls are.

However, you shake your head with a cheeky smirk, nuzzling the tip of your nose into the coarse dark hair of his thin happy trail, feeling his muscles flex at the sweet touch, before lifting your head to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“I wanna suck you off, baby. Can I?” You ask in a sultry purr, almost innocently, batting your eyelashes at him as you tug on the waistband of his grey sweats, pulling at it playfully before letting it snap back against his skin.

A rough groan escapes Simon as he watches you play with the thick hem of his pants and he already knows, despite his stamina, it will be a quick first round tonight; he’s way too sensitive and you know exactly what to do to drive him wild with lust. That familiar heat of arousal is already pooling into his gut and making his blood rush south.

“If I say no, what’re ye gonna do, hm?” He counters gruffly, biting back a sly smirk; his dark eyes fixated on yours, burning and molten and filled with desire and curiosity – because he rarely denies you anything, if ever.

“Maybe I’ll just do it myself,” he adds after a beat of silence, “Make myself feel good.”

Simon can practically watch how you process, assess, analyze his words in the span of mere seconds, but then your pupils dilate comically large, like a cartoon characters, and a foreign look appears on your face, one he’s never seen before. His heartbeat accelerates and he grunts lowly as you push yourself off his stomach to sit back on your haunches between his spread legs while the soft leather of the couch creaks and shifts as you move.

“Okay,” you retort in a breathy, deadpan voice, your eyes never leaving his, “I’ll watch.”

Simon instinctively shifts on the couch as well, propping his large upper body up in a reclined sitting position when he hears that you mean business. His dark eyebrows raise slightly at your unexpected reaction – the fact that his joke-proposition seems to excite you so immensely. His cock twitches and throbs inside his boxer briefs in return.

His eyes roam over your curves briefly, noticing how your braless breasts rise and fall with heavier yet slow breaths, nipples already peaking behind the fabric of your tight black crop top. You’re clearly aroused and Simon is sure he can smell you already, sweet, slick and warm and, most importantly, all his.

A pleased growl rumbles through his buff chest, until he remembers what exactly made you react this extremely.

"Yer into that?" He asks incredulously, brows drawing together in disbelief and curiosity, though if he's honest with himself, Simon is not surprised in the slightest.

You always encourage him to be more vocal in bed, make sounds, let loose. The dirtier, the better. Plus points if he sounds like a goddamn caveman claiming you; grunting and groaning in your ear while his fat cock is buried inside your tight cunt up to the hilt. You always love that.

"Yes," you answer curtly, squirming in your seat already. "I used to watch blokes jerk off and fuck their pocket pussies all the time on the Hub. Looked up the biggest, buffest lad and imagined you being the one doing it." You confess bluntly, a wicked smirk creeping on your lips as his big doe eyes grow even wider.

"Pff, seriously?"

Simon tries not to show it too obviously, but that is, hands down, the hottest and most flattering admission you've ever shared with him. Gods, he bloody loves your bluntness.

"Yes, sir." You nod enthusiastically while he snorts and rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

You only ever call him Sir off duty when there's a deeper meaning behind it – a plan.

"So... you – you wanna see that, innit? Wanna watch me have a wank in front of you and look all pathetic while I could also just...fuck you properly instead?" Simon enquires with a hint of sarcasm, scratching the stubble at his chin as he studies your beautiful face appraisingly, still obviously hesitant about the whole idea.

"Uh-huh," You nod again, smiling at him with a certain twinkle in your eyes, like a child finally receiving a toy it always wanted but never dared to ask for. “Please.” You add for good measure, tilting your head to the side in a playful manner.

Simon quirks an eyebrow at you, his eyes flickering over your pretty features to make sure you're really not messing with him. He's never done that before; it has never occurred to him that anyone would want to see him do that.

Masturbating has always felt pathetic and awkward to him; it's a means to an end to him and especially those Combat Jack’s are the worst. Feel sad and horny, jerk off, feel sad and empty afterwards. Done deal.

But how can he ever deny you that particular pleasure when you've always been so good for him? So incredibly patient, caring, and loving despite all his flaws and issues; way before you've become a couple, even.

"Fine. I'll do it," he finally huffs gruffly, his own heart skipping a hard beat, his brows creasing together in a slight frown while he can't hide the obvious tent already sporting in the front of his sweatpants at the sight of your beaming smile and sparkling eyes after getting exactly what you want – again.

"But ye're not allowed to touch me...or yerself. Understood?"

Oh.

Your nostrils flare as you exhale sharply, drumming your fingertips along his clothed thighs as you narrow your eyes at him, pondering briefly.

"Yeah... okay... sounds like torture, but... the fun kind." You agree reluctantly, giving a small shrug, though you quickly notice that his strict order only fuels your growing arousal and excitement. It’ll be like watching your own personal porn after all.

Simon moves his knees then, a silent warning to get your hands off like you agreed to, and you retrieve your hands from his thighs with a tiny snarl that makes him chuckle darkly while you rest your palms on your own thighs instead.

“Be my good girl then and take yer top off, lovey. Show me yer pretty tits, yeah?”

Yet again, a violent shiver runs down your spine as soon as Simon gives you another order in that deep, gravelly voice of his and you don’t hesitate to obey his request – peeling off your tight crop top to reveal your breasts to him at once and dropping the piece of clothing next to the couch, your skin flushed with arousal and carnal desire for him.

“Like this?”

Simon hums deeply in approval, his pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, like a wolf licking its chaps, while his whiskey-colored eyes darken and gleam an inky black as they drink in your gorgeous, bare upper body, now only illuminated by the soft candlelight and the flickering lights of the TV screen, still playing Band of Brothers. You look like an absolute goddess and his fingers itch to reach out and touch, flick his thumbs over your perky nipples just the way you like it, squeeze and grope your tits until you mewl with neediness.

But, alas, he doesn’t.

“Aye, just like that,” he grunts out, shifting and adjusting his position until he’s comfortable on the couch and has a good view on you. “Bloody perfect, you minx.” He adds thickly in a low murmur.

And then, without a further word, Simon finally hooks his right thumb into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs and tugs both fabrics down until the stretchy waistbands are snug taut below his balls, right at his taint, adding some pressure to the sensitive spot. He grunts when his large cock springs free from its confinement and rests on his lower stomach, a droplet of pearly pre-cum leaking onto his dark happy trail from his blushing tip, making your mouth water on sight and a breath hitch in your throat.

The musky scent of his arousal hits your nose, and it takes all of your trained willpower not to pounce on him. No, this is special. You can't ruin it with your impatience.

There's a slight grimace on his ruggedly handsome face when he simply grabs his shaft, then his right mammoth hand wraps around his girth completely. It almost looks painful to you, but Simon bites his cheek and fights the immediate shudder of pleasure running down his spine at his own rough touch, giving himself a few slow, tight strokes.

"You're a dry guy?" You ask curiously, scrunching your nose up in surprise. You always use some kind of lube when you give him a nice hand job.

"Huh? Yeah?" Simon's eyes flicker from his throbbing cock to your eyes, then swiftly back again, shrugging his broad shoulders before stilling briefly, then he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

Great, now he feels like he's doing it wrong; something he's been doing to himself for years. It’s not his fault that his calloused hands cannot compare to your soft ones anymore and that you’ve completely spoiled him with your gentle yet firm touch; you’ve utterly ruined him for himself at this point.

“Mhm,” you hum appraisingly, practically buzzing with pent-up arousal as you squirm in your seat between his spread legs again and feel the fabric of your thong rub between your slick folds and against your pulsating clit in delicious torture.

“Spit in your fist, baby,” you advise him then, your own mouth filling with saliva at the sheer thought, completely self-conditioned, “Enjoy it for me. Relax.”

Simon nearly groans at your words, but suppresses the wanton sound again, all to your disapproval.

“Fuck –“ He grunts through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring as he's already crumbling beneath your smoldering gaze and bratty pout.

The urge to just pinch your pretty nipples in retaliation and grab you by the nape of your neck like a disobedient kitten, only to make your plump lips spread and open up over his needy cock, is becoming more unbearable by the second.

Eventually, Simon lifts his right hand, because he does want to put on a show for you, and spits into his rough palm generously.

The sudden choked whimper that spills from your lips at the lewd gesture of his makes it all worth it, tough, and Simon lets out a guttural moan this time, when he cups his leaking tip with his slicked up fist and twists his wrist for more friction.

“This good enough for you, luv?” He manages to ask in between guttural grunts and deep, deliberate breaths.

Meanwhile, you don’t even know where or what to look at as your feral eyes try to drink in and process this whole scene in front of you – his flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, how his abs and the muscles in his chest and arms ripple and flex with each heavy breath and movements, the way he works on his long, girthy cock for you. It’s still such a rare sight for you – seeing him this open and vulnerable.

If Simon would let you, you’d record and safe all of it for later.

“Yes,” you breathe out in return, voice hoarse and thick with lust and need, utterly captivated and amazed by his performance. “God, yes, baby. You look so fucking sexy right now.”

Your praise sends a jolt of hot, searing pleasure straight to his cock while Simon keeps fucking into his rough fist and his breath stutters briefly as he tries to maintain his fervent rhythm, muttering curses under his breath.

When his head lolls back against the armrest while a husky groan tears itself from his throat and his hips buck up into his own hand instinctively, right in front of you, you have to take several deep breaths to keep yourself seated on your haunches and, simultaneously, from reaching out to him – even though it’d be so easy to just…join him, perhaps fondle his balls and increase the pleasure.

Letting out another whimpery moan at the thought, your own fingers are now digging into the fabric of your gym leggings on your thighs, fidgeting and twitching restlessly while you move and roll your hips desperately, trying to find some release as your soaked thong keeps rubbing your swollen clit between your folds.

Simon can already feel how pathetically close he is and he knows it’s only because you’re watching him wank off right now, enjoying it – and praising him for it in that tooth-achingly sweet voice of yours, too.

It usually takes him so much longer to cum on his own, no matter how blue his balls are, but this is different – a good kind of different, and the tension in his lower stomach continues to rise at a rapid pace while he can barely hold eye-contact with your mesmerizing eyes when you’re looking at him like that, all aroused and needy with lust.

“’m close,” Simon huffs out, sounding like an angry bull as he bends one leg and puts the other foot down on the ground for leverage, readying himself for the inevitable.

“Play with yer tits for me, beautiful,” he requests through his clenched jaw as he watches you squirm through heavy-lidded eyes, “Help daddy come.”

“Oh…Fuck…” you practically gasp out as soon as you hear him calling himself that, and your head tilts back slowly with a breathy moan when your hands roam over your bare stomach sensually, up until they rest over your heavy breasts. You begin toying with yourself for him, groping and squeezing the supple flesh, tugging on your stiff nipples and rolling the sensitive buds between the pads of your fingers, until you’re panting for him like a bitch in heat.

While you’re playing with your tits like he asked you to, like the good, obedient girlfriend you are, Simon’s free hand finds its way slithering up his taut stomach, up his heaving chest, until it wraps around his own throat firmly, blunt nails digging into his scarred skin, tightening just enough to feel his own strong pulse flutter and thrum beneath his fingers, while he keeps stroking and fucking his cock into his tight fist with shameless vigor.

You and Simon moan simultaneously then – you at the sight of him choking himself suddenly, without warning, and he, because of all combined sensations bullying him to his peak all at once.

Eventually, his loud breathing keeps hitching, the vein in his temple protruding visibly as he keeps his grip around his throat, and your lips part with a wanton moan as you watch him climax, squeezing your tits harshly, as Simon’s balls tighten, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut and he finally comes with a guttural groan, spilling his thick, white release into his fist until it leaks and drips out from between his rough knuckles, making a mess on his lower belly.

“Fuckin’ hell, luv –“ Simon curses with a low chuckle, and swallows hard, still catching his breath as he releases his throat and lifts his head up from the armrest to look at you, feeling somewhat sheepish all of a sudden.

“That what you wanted?” He asks sarcastically, his voice all wrecked and gruff as he gestures at the mess on his stomach with his clean hand while his body keeps shuddering with aftershocks.

You need a moment to find your voice again, your heart still hammering against your ribcage just from watching him get off while your core is still fluttering and pulsing with want and a desperate need for attention.

“Y-yeah,” you admit with a few tiny nods, still blushing with arousal after heaving a deep sigh, “That was…perfect. You were bloody perfect, honey.” You utter another praise and watch his cheeks tint with a blush.

“Tsk,” Simon scoffs, shaking his head slightly, completely blissed out of his mind, “You better shut it, lass, and help me clean up this mess.” He grunts dismissively, though he’s grinning proudly.

“Gimme ten minutes, lovey.” He remarks with a wolfish smirk, the innuendo clear as he doesn't bother to tuck his half-hard cock back into his sweats, after you’ve retrieved some soft tissues from the box on the coffee table.

Making him cum now merely opened the floodgates, like shaking a champagne bottle and pulling the cork recklessly; his hunger for you has only been ignited and, boy, he is starving again, though not for your delicious lasagna this time.

When you hold out the tissues to him with an amused look, Simon grabs your wrist suddenly and hauls you on top of him again, up to his chest this time, wrapping one strong leg around your body securely to keep you caged in before he cups your cheek with his cum-slicked hand and finally captures your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss.

He knows you don't mind the mess.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty #task force 141 #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #tf 141

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attapullman · 8 months ago

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Robert's Laundry Service | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A broken washing machine and a clogged bathroom sink lead you and Robert to explore the next part of your secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Bob Floyd x afab!reader, no use of pronouns, no y/n, a little angsty, very smutty, 18+ ONLY as always, unprotected PinV, use of sex toys, language, a lot of cum mentions, neighbor!Bob being perfect as usual

A Note From Mo: Did anyone else miss neighbor!Bob? He needed some love, and that's what he's getting today! Thank you to @roosterforme for inspiring this idea that I took entirely too far. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be hoping that he moves into the empty apartment next to mine 🙏 p.s. this takes place before Stupid White Car

It’s hard to pay attention to the bad diagnosis he’s giving when your visual is just those threadbare grey sweats. Painted to his strong thighs, poking out from behind the washer like a personal serving of eye candy. You’re meant to be shining the flash light, but you long abandoned that task in favor of the view.

“…you can borrow mine in the meantime. I’ll call a guy Monday.”

Reluctantly, you draw your eyes from his lower half. Just as his words sink in.

“It’s broken?!”

Robert gives you a kindly amused grin. “Sweetheart, did you hear anything I’ve been saying?”

You grace him with a sheepish smile, caught red-handed.

“The tube disconnected from the wall and needs to be properly - professionally - connected before you use it again. I know it’s not the same, but you can do laundry at mine until someone comes out. I can make you tea and we can watch that undercover dating show you like?” His soft smile is as sweet as his offer.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Hey now, you like that show too.”

Those cornflower blues shine, glad you’re not objecting. “I do, but only because it’s funny when you yell at the drama.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you away from the laundry, back to where the two of you had been trying to decide on takeout over a game of checkers. Allowing him to drag you down to the couch, hips colliding into the soft fabric, you resume a lovely afternoon with Robert.

Robert, your helpful Mr. Fix It neighbor. And maybe, one day, your boyfriend.

Robert lending you his laundry room for the weekend is so generous. It feels a bit silly carrying your delicates through his back yard (especially when you know a few pairs are crusty from your…sleepovers) but you’ll take his selfless offer if it means clean laundry and a lovely afternoon spent with him.

As you work your way past the kitchen, you’re caught off-guard once again by how charming his home is. The little bits of personality, the framed photographs and handmade trinkets. While you know he can’t get any more perfect, his home makes a compelling argument.

The laundry room is fairly unremarkable - washer, dryer, large farmhouse sink for the unsavory jobs too nasty for the kitchen - but you do like his view of the neighborhood from the window. You’re almost curious if anyone will walk by and notice you standing in the wrong house, lacy balconette bra in hand.

Already regretting the amount of folded laundry you’re going to have to haul back through the gate after this, you begin prepping a load of lace and satin. Brainstorming ways to expedite the process, you overshoot pouring detergent into the water-filled drum and spill the cobalt goo all over your hand. Shit.

You rush over to the sink, subjecting yourself to freezing water to wash the detergent off your fingers. Once sufficiently clean, you reach for a cloth to dry off. And that’s when you see it.

Oh. You’ve never seen one in real life before, just in porn and the odd naughty ad while scrolling. It almost feels as if you’re being punk’d. Like if you sliced through it, it would actually be cake.

A cock ring, soft silicone and all. Casually sitting on the sideboard, freshly cleaned.

Every muscle in your body freezes as the implications of seeing something so private wash over you. Something meant between lovers that you had never seen in the weeks since that fateful night you let him in for a cup of tea.

It’s been a few days since you had last slept over. A scary sinking feeling fills your gut…was there someone else?

You had been so focused on the neighborhood not knowing. Staying in your homes, using the back gate. It wasn’t like you had ever verbalized your intentions with him. You couldn’t blame him for thinking the two of you as casual, as much as it twisted your insides.

As your thoughts spiral, there’s motion in the doorway and Robert is suddenly there, big shoulders and a soft smile on his face at seeing you in his space. Exactly where he wants you.

“You get it going in here? Find the detergent okay?”

Those kind cobalt eyes follow your gaze to the sink, where you can’t break your focus on the dark silicone device. The one he meant to put away before you came over. His cheeks flush as he steps into the room to attempt to explain why he has something so private sitting out - in his laundry room of all places.

But as he goes to open his mouth, you cut him off. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t need to know everything in your….sex life. You’re obviously welcome to do whatever you like in the privacy of your home.”

His eyebrows raise, unsure why you seem so upset when the only issue is a clogged sink in the ensuite last night.

You edge around him, desperate to get out of this space - his space - away from everything that reminds you of him as he figuratively slips through your fingers. “We never discussed being exclusive, so I get it.”

“What are you-?”

Tears threaten to spill over as he follows you toward his back door. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with us seeing other people, so-”

Robert’s eyes bug out of his head. Seeing other people? His blood pressure rises as the dots connect behind those pretty eyes, and suddenly he’s racing to cut you off. You’re faster than you look, but before you can turn the handle of the back door he’s plastered his body against the wood, effectively blocking you from leaving.

The pain behind your eyes begs him to move, to let you run back to the safety of your own home so you can cry and despair over not locking him down sooner. Of course there’s someone else. Of course you’re not the only one who can see how great Robert Floyd is.

“Robert, I need to leave. I need a moment alone. Please.”

But he holds his ground. The second you walk through that door he knows he’s lost you. His eyes are cautious behind those thick lenses, wanting to obey your wishes but the risk of losing you making every nerve stand on end. Whatever is wrong, he can fix this. He will fix it.

“Sweetheart.” His fingers reach into the space between you, hand clenching into a fist when he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you right now. “There isn’t anyone else. I promise, you’re…you’re the only one.”

You eye him hesitantly, wanting to believe his words. But that cock ring has never made an appearance in your sleepovers. Never once brought up when he’s standing between your parted thighs, lips slotted against yours.

“I really want to believe you, I do. But why else would you be cleaning your, erm, toy?” You can’t bring yourself to say cock ring without bursting into frustrated tears.

It’s now that the fight within him drops, and immediately his shoulders release. Embarrassment floods his features and he drops his gaze, no longer able to look you in the eye. This is not how he anticipated bringing this dynamic into your relationship.

“That…it’s…I-I use it when I’m alone. I like to, uh, edge myself.”

His cheeks are flaming and the burning despair inside you dissipates into intrigue. A flame traipses through your abdomen, curious and hungry.

“You use it…alone?”

He desperately nods, tentatively reaching out to grasp your hands, needing to feel you. Those thick, strong fingers rub against your knuckles soothingly. Despite the whiplash of emotions conflicting inside you, his presence immediately soothes and you lean into his touch.

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

His blush reflects yours as you look into those ocean-deep eyes, the desperation clear across his features. He’s being honest, laying out every last secret he’s got to keep you here.

“So, there’s no one else?” Your voice feels so small, barely a whisper in the kitchen.

He shakes his head definitively, using his grip on your hands to bring you closer as he stares deep into your eyes. “There’s no one else. And the fact you would even think that means I’m not doing a good enough job proving how much I care for you. Because I like you so much, sweetheart, so, so much.”

The tension in your body breaks, and you allow yourself to lean into his strong body. His panic dissipates as he holds you to him, one arm flush against your waist as his hand holds your face to his chest. He’s never letting you go, of that he knows for sure.

He can’t believe there would be any doubt in your mind of his intentions. The sleepovers, the dinners in, the way he’s made a home between your thighs…that makes you official, doesn’t it? He’s never been one for the right words, but he was pretty sure his actions proved he was in this for the long haul.

You’re too important to mess up. To allow any seed of doubt to spread.

His nose traces along your temple, warm breath kissing the delicate skin. “Can I take you to bed, sweetheart?”

Your face lifts from his chest to take in his honest face. The loose tendril of sun-lightened brunette that’s escaped his neat hairstyle. The thin lopsided smile you trust in. Eyes behind corrected lenses that are serious and playful in the same breath.

In lieu of an answer, you mold your lips to his, drinking in his taste you’ve deprived yourself of for days. His kindness and sincerity sink into you, surrounding you the pleasantly overwhelming way his body does as he wraps around you. Holding your hips as he swallows your tongue, shifting himself to feel every dip and curve of your body.

As his lips find your neck, the laundry room comes back into view. A delicious thought swirls in your mind and the words burst from your mouth.

“Can I see?”

He nuzzles against your jaw, grinding his erection against your thigh.

“See what?” He’s distracted by how good you smell, how soft your skin feels beneath his fingers.

“I want to see you with the cock ring. Show me, please?”

Arousal floods his mind, images of you naked beneath him while his balls throb with cum just for you. No words needed before he’s pushing you in front of him to his bedroom. He’s ready to show you just how devoted he is to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, it feels like the first time with him all over again. Anticipation of the unknown, drowned in heavy lust.

His eyes rake over you as he enters the room, lust darkening those soft blue eyes. You’re exactly how he wants you always - in his bed, eager for his touch. Right now, he’s yours.

Taking the spot between your legs, strong fingers stroking along jean-clad thighs, his broad frame bends toward you to rest his forehead against yours. That button nose knocking into yours.

“There’s been no one else since the day you moved next door. I’m yours, only yours.”

The build up of emotions behind your eyes threatens to spill over as he presses his lips to yours. Cups the back of your head as he leans into you, applying the softest pressure. Pouring every ounce of his devotion into his kiss.

Your legs wrap around his slim hips, needing to feel his security and care. He’s the most helpful man to exist, and you know he’ll guide you through this dynamic.

Kisses turn sweet to frantic to passionate as Robert holds your face. Your lips are chapped when he finally pulls away, strong chest rising and deflating. You know you mirror his disheveled aroused appearance. His hand reaches behind to his back pocket.

He holds the black cock ring between you, freshly washed, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the curtains. “Are you sure about this?”

Your apprehensive eyes meet his, although a slight smile plays along your lips. “Play dirty with me. Please.”

Condensation beads on the lower rims of his glasses as he dips his face to kiss you, his skin flaming hot. The kiss is sinful yet curt, not wanting to lose himself before practicing restraint. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, savoring his flavor. He hums against your mouth as your hands find his waist, heart picking up speed as your fingers find the button of his jeans.

Robert clenches the cock ring in his fist, already struggling to hold his load as the softness of your skin wraps tightly around his hardening cock.

His eyes are lidded, thin mouth already agape from the pleasure of your fist stroking firmly up and down his shaft. Can barely keep focus between the way you squeeze his deep pink tip and the spectacular view down your top, his mind running wild at the all the skin he needs to touch. He’s practically forgotten the reason for his view until you lick your lips sweetly and ask.

“Can I put it on?”

Fingers unfurl and present the silicone ring to you, warm from his clenched fist. You press the ring between your fingers, taking in the smooth design and thick circumference. Glide your thumb along the little button that makes it vibrate.

He’s panting above you, already wrecked at the vision. The only two things he deems worthy of his cock, right in front of him.

Bringing the ring up to your lips, he watches as you run your tongue along it, gathering your saliva to glisten along the silicone for a smoother glide. Your fingers effortlessly slipping along the edge before you touch it to the sensitive tip of his cock.

His fingers curl around the nape on your neck, holding the hair there, grounding himself. Between your ministrations and the pressure of the ring slipping down his length, he’s dizzy with stimulation. His cock immediately swelling in response. Lip between his teeth to contain the gruff moans you’re desperate to hear.

Your eyes are focused on the firm grip the ring has on the length of him, sliding down until your thumb is brushing his heavy ballsack, pulsing with need.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last.” He’s panting against your forehead, trying so hard to be patient, but wanting nothing more than to thrust into your fist and chase his orgasm.

You tilt his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A promise to take care of him, because you and you alone are responsible for his pleasure. Always.

Sliding back onto the soft coverlet, you raise your hips to remove your jeans. Skin growing warm at the wanton look of need in Robert’s eyes as you unbutton your top. His voice but a whine when you sit in front of him in nothing but the delicate chain around your neck.

“So beautiful.”

It’s impossible to tell whose whimpers are more desperate as you run the shiny-slick swollen head of him against your core. Moaning as it catches on your entrance, ready to sink deep into those velvet depths. Voices becoming one as you impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s all yours.

He can’t believe anything could be better. This is Nirvana. Until you reach between to where your bodies meet and hit that tiny little button.

“Fuck!” He never swears, and yet that filthy word streaks through the room with a bite. Yelped loudly as he buries his face into your neck. The combination of vibrations and warm, tight pussy sending him into a spiral. Groaning out praises into your neck like it’s his last day alive.

You can’t help the grin on your face as you experience him come undone. How had you been denied the pleasure of watching him like this? The salt of his neck, the wayward curl stuck to his forehead? It’s a toss up if you’re getting off on being stuffed with his engorged cock or by watching the way his chest heaves for breath as he fights off his orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me?” You’re drunk on power watching him like this, rutting his hips into you over and over for a pleasure that won’t come until you decide. His nod so desperate it goes right to your clit. His swollen cock stretching you beyond what you thought possible. The frisson of skin on skin, those tiny yet powerful vibrations, and his affection for you is overwhelming.

The ring fully still in place, your orgasm wracks your body, convulsing over the sheets. Barely able to notice his soft lips brushing the arch of your breasts as he consumes your satisfaction. Drinking in the sounds of your moans as they mix with his wet thrusts.

Your sleepy eyes are all he focuses on as he chases his orgasm, fighting past his usual routine of stopping here when he only has his hand. Right now he gets to have it all - the constricted blood flow, the vibration, and you. Perfect, wonderful you. His hands fist in the bedding, rooting himself, as sinks his hips deeper with precise strokes.

He can do this. He will show you you’re the only one for him.

Body quivering, his face is bright red as he thrusts, exertion bringing the vein in his forehead out with a matching bead of sweat. Robert feels his body take on a new consciousness as you ask for his cum once more.

His grunts are filthy - animalistic and deep. The first stream of cum he’s ever experienced with the ring on filling your stretched pussy, claiming you as his. Head fuzzy, he takes a moment to pull himself from your soft embrace and jerk his engorged cock, shot after shot of cum pumping out across your body. A painting only he gets to witness.

His tank now empty, you feel the soft thump of his body fall beside yours. Hear him catch his breath in the quiet afternoon air.

Exhausted, his face knocks into yours - glasses already lost to the coverlet - as he comes to reality once again. Strong arms reaching to pull you to him. Lackadaisical kisses to your cheek before risking a glance down and laughing abashedly.

“T-there’s so much cum. It’s everywhere.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The carefree yet sheepish grin he gives you melts your heart. You kiss him back, not needing to look as you feel his seed dry on your skin in the golden hour light. He very truly marked you as his, just as he is yours.

Smoothing your fingers through his hair, memorizing every little detail of his face - what a handsome face - you ease his embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just throw the sheets in the washer and enjoy dinner. It’s fine, really.”

His washer currently filled with your delicates complicates things, but your big, sweet smile soothes his self-consciousness. He returns the grin back, holding you closer.

That night is spent eating Robert’s lasagna and playing cards until every light on the street went out. It’s far too late when the sheets are finally clean and dried, and even later when they’re successfully on the bed. But it’s worth it to him when you crawl under the duvet and beckon him closer, needing one last kiss from your boyfriend before sleep.

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join the taglist for any fic

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undying-love · 6 months ago

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John and Paul on each other: A Compilation

John:

"He [Paul] looked like Elvis. I dug him."

"I'm like everyone else, Harry. I fell for Paul's looks."

"..an old, estranged fiancée of mine called Paul."

"Paul...you're so well-built." (X)

"Groups like this are normally not friends. They’re just four people out there thrown together to make an act. There may be two of them who sort of go off and are friends, you know...Strictly platonic of course."

"Oh, I've had him, he's no good."

"I was riding on a boat called Paul, and now I'm riding on a boat called Yoko."

"I've compared to a marriage a million times and I hope it's… understandable. For people that aren't married. Or any relationship. It was a LONG relationship. It started many, many years before the American public, or the English public for that matter, knew us. Paul and I were together since he was 15, I was 16."

"Nobody ever said anything about Paul's having a spell on me or my having one on Paul! They never thought that was abnormal in those days, two guys together, or four guys together! Why didn't they ever say, "How come those guys don't split up? I mean, what's going on backstage? What is this Paul and John business? How can they be together so long?"

"Well, Paul had met Linda before [the Apple press conference], you see. I mean, there were quite a few women he'd obviously had that I never knew about. God knows when he was doing it, but he must have been doing it."

"I don’t even think about Paul unless somebody brings him up. Or if some song comes out or something happens, they’re in the newspaper. I don’t know why everyone doesn’t just leave him alone—I haven’t really seen him in ten years. I can talk about him forever because I know all about him, but you see, there’s nothing much to say."

[Studio chatter] Paul: I will be overpowering this time. John: Oh good. I like it when you’re brutal. (X)

Paul:

"John was really my only male friend, if only because of proximity."

"[While playing live] John was to the left or to the right of me, so I never got to sort of see him perform so much. Except in the film [Get Back]. And there he is in massive closeup. I can study everything about him.”

“I’ll just sit around and hug him forever, because that’s the depth of my feeling for him."

"And I would often sketch John when we worked together, often without him knowing it. It was so easy doing John because he had glasses, those sideboards...and that long, aquiline nose."

"When I painted him recently, I found myself saying, ‘How did his lips go?"

"I can still see John now: checked shirt, slightly curly hair…I remember thinking, ‘He looks good - I wouldn’t mind being in a group with him."

"James reminds me very much of John in many ways: he's got beautiful hands. John had beautiful hands."

"If I'm going to see a face in a painting, it's highly likely to be his."

"I still remember his beery old breath when I first met him that day. But I soon came to love that beery old breath. And I loved John."

"I’m often thinking of him. I dream of him."

"Delicious boy, delicious broth of a boy."

"John and I used to hitch-hike places together. It was something that we did together quite a lot; cementing our friendship, getting to know our feelings, our dreams, our ambitions together. It was a very wonderful period. I look back on it with great fondness. I particularly remember John and I would be squeezed in our little single bed."

"There's a song I do called Here Today which is specifically written for John. That sometimes catches me out. I realize I'm telling this man that I love him and it's like I'm publicly declaring this in front of all these people I don't know. I sometimes wonder what I'm doing."

"We are individuals— all different. John married Yoko, I married Linda. We didn’t marry the same girl.”

"Please Please Me was a John idea. John liked the double meaning of “please”. Yeah, “please” is, you know, pretty please. “Please have intercourse with me. So, pretty please, have intercourse with me, I beg you to have intercourse with me.” He liked that, and I liked that he liked that."

"[John] was a wild and woolly genius who it was my pleasure to work with, walk with, talk with and occasionally sleep with. "

Q: If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him? Paul: In bed.

"Then also [me and John] were like married, so you got the bitterness. It’s not a woman scorned this time, it’s two men scorned — probably even worse. And I had to make way for Yoko. My relationship with John could not have remained as it was and Yoko feel secure.”

"I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away."

#mclennon #megapost #beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon evidence

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irinaseverinka · 2 months ago

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Estel living room

A two sets of furnuture and decor for the living room in the neoclasic style.

BASE GAME - LOW POLY

DOWNLOAD Pt.I furniture

10 items: sideboard, sofa 1-section (living chair), sofa 2-section (loveseat), sofa lounge (left and right), TV shelf, 2 coffe tables, sofa pillows (left and right)

DOWNLOAD Pt.II decor

8 items: wall marble panel (for short and medium walls), ceiling lamp (for short and medium walls), wall long lamp (for short and medium walls), rug, paint

#ts4 #sims4 #sims4cc #ts4cc #ts4 download #ts4 furniture #severinka #ts4 objects #ts4 custom content #tsr #thesimsresource #ts4 simbrl #ts4 simblr

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bri-licious08 · 3 months ago

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Nothing to be Done ⊹ ࣪ ˖Bakugou x Reader⊹ ࣪ ˖

CW: aged-up characters, heavy cussing language, and ANGST Happy Reading!! \^>^/

Silence. For being in a place surrounded by clattering noise with people chattering and dishes rattling, it’s so loud. The silence. The thoughts rearing in your head. It’s frustratingly loud.

“Excuse me miss,” The waitress called you timidly. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that you must’ve been stood up. Having waited for an hour for you to order and politely dismissing her stating you were waiting for your partner to arrive and yet the seats around you were empty.

“C- Can I get you anything?”

“Umm,” You nibbled on your bottom lip, trying your best to keep your voice from trembling and the watery glaze in your eyes to keep from trickling down your cheeks.

“The bill. I’ll take the bill for the wine, please.” You spoke softly, lowering your head slightly while keeping your averted gaze from your kind waitress.

“Right away ma’am,” She bowed curtly before she left. You raised your hands that were gripping your beautiful silk maroon dress under the table and planted your elbows on the table sighing into your palms.

“Your bill ma’am,” The timid waitress announced as she placed it gently beside you.

“Thank you,” you responded lowly. You tore your face from your palms and reached to collect your small purse holding your wallet.

“Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?” The girl asked carefully.

“Besides getting my absent boyfriend here for a date we haven’t had in a year, nothing else, thank you,” You murmured as you placed 14,241 yen on the table and slipped an extra 2,800 as a tip as you slipped out of the booth, and walked to the exit with a hand clutching your purse and your head held high.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sound of keys jingling in a lock can be heard from inside a neat and clean apartment. The door creaking open revealed you dressed beautifully with a frown on your face entering the home. You placed your keys in the key bowl on top of the rustic white wood sideboard you had by the front door. You looked up and in the mirror, you saw how ruined your makeup looked from crying quitely in the cab you took to get back to the apartment.

Your frown deepened as you rubbed away the run-down mascara before giving up with a sigh. You dropped your purse beside the key bowl and made your way to your bathroom. You set up a nice warm bath with scented candles before you relaxed into the well-deserved warm bath. After some time when the water began to turn cold, you decided it was time to get out. You got out and did your nightly routine before heading to bed. You peeled the covers enough for you to slip into as you turned the TV on and rather quickly, you fell asleep to the low volume of the television.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

With a racing heart, Katsuki rushed out of his office building at 12:56 am. When did it get so fucking late? Most importantly when did he begin to lose track of his relationship? How long had it been since you both went on a date? It’s his fault. This is all his fault. He just hopes it’s not too late. As he raced to his car he thought back to the conversation he just had with Kirishima, his agency partner.

“Hey man, you’re still here?” A rough-pitched voice called to the spiky blonde-headed workaholic who sat in his desk chair in the middle of a large office of a sky-rise building. The city lights of Musutafu blared behind him through the glass panes of his office windows.

“Tch. This shit ain’t gonna do itself,” Katsuki scoffed. His brows creased in annoyance as he glared at the screen before him.

“Yeahhh but, I mean,” The redhead started.

“You gonna spit it out already? ‘Cuz if ya ain’t I got shit to do,” The blonde growled.

“Uhh never mind, guess I got my dates wrong.”

The blonde’s curiosity spiked as his eyebrows creased from frustration to slight curiosity at the man’s words. Kirishima picked up on his, ‘I wanna know more but I ain’t gonna tell you’ look and continued.

“Well, Mina was gushing this morning about how she was gonna spend some of the day getting your girl all dolled up for your anniversary dinner tonight.”

“What? That pinky freak needs ta get ‘er brain checked out. It ain’t today it’s next week.” Katsuki grumbled.

“Hmm, ya sure? She said N/N had told her to go over to yalls place today. I heard the girls talking on FaceTime last night.”

“Ya think I don’t know my own fuckin’ anniversary shitty hair?!”

“Sorry man! You’re right! Don’t shoot the messenger now! See ya tomorrow bro!” Kirishima shouted as he retreated from his partner's office hurriedly and slammed the door behind him as he exited.

Katsuki scoffed as he wore his typical scowl. He returned to reading the reports he had to sign off on before his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Kirishima’s words began to get to him. But what would that dumb-haired idiot know? No one knew his relationship better than himself. Yet the thought kept itching his brain uncomfortably. Katsuki exited the Word document and clicked on his computer calendar. He scrolled around to find today's date and agenda. His eyes searched intently to find any sign of today's plans only to find none. He smirked. Of course, he was right. He scrolled to next week's calendar list and scrolled through the pre-made plans only to notice your anniversary date wasn’t scheduled on the correct date.

“The hell?” The blonde scowled as he inched his face closer to the screen as if it would help him see more clearly.

His carmine eyes scanned closely at the agenda only to keep re-reading the same things. No anniversary. His confusion began to spike. He gave up looking through his computer and reached for his phone in his pocket. He quickly pulled up his calendar and looked through to next week's date again only to find the same thing. No anniversary date. He gulped the nerves that settled in his throat as he began to scroll back to this week. He checked today's date to find nothing. He let out a frustrated groan as he tossed his phone onto his desk which jumbled the messy stack of papers that were laid out. His eyes caught something on his desk that he hadn’t noticed before. A paper with a schedule for the week created by his assistant. He grabbed it and scanned through it noticing something.

No fucking way. How the fuck did he tell his assistant to cancel that?! But then he remembered

why...

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“D-Dynamight sir, Pro-Hero Grand has publicly announced a collaboration with the Red Riot Dynamight Agency for the big Mysterio Villian Case. Should I schedule a meeting with the PR group?” Bakugou’s assistant asked.

“Tch, yeah schedule that shit.”

“Right away sir,” She began to dabble on her tablet with her stylus pen. “Fuckin’ annoyin’ piece-a-shit,” He grumbled as he ruffled his spiky locks.

“What day should I make it for sir?”

“Friday, I’m already packed as it is durin’ the week,” He groaned as he sat on his office desk chair.

“Yes sir, ah- s-sir, it seems you’re unavailable Friday afternoon for your-”

“Just move whatever the hell it is,” Bakugou said firmly as he began to look through a stack of files and papers on his desk.

“S-Sir? But it's your-”

“I swear to god if you don’t just do yer job and reschedule whatever the fuckin’ schedule conflict is so fuckin’ help me-”

“Y-Yes Dynamight sir! My apologies! R-Right away, sir!” The woman squeaked as she bowed repeatedly before quickly scurrying out of his office to avoid being scolded harshly further. Bakugou sighed loudly as he laid his head back leaning further into his chair. A few hours later his assistant knocked on his office door, and with a growl, he allowed her entry.

“S-Sorry sir, almost forgot to give you this week's schedule, I’ve already altered it as requested,” Bakugou’s assistant said timidly as she quickly hurried to his desk, neatly placing said schedule before him, and then quickly scurrying back out.

Bakugou sighed, huffing an exhale before glaring at the ceiling. He just wanted the day to be over so he could sleep soundly beside his girl in the safety and comforts of your shared home…

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Katsuki rambled as he rushed through his agencies parking lot to his black Camaro with a giant orange X on the hood that matched the X on his hero suit. Scrambling to find the keys in his joggers and hoodie, he accidentally drops them, letting out another curse as he snatches the keys, unlocks his vehicle, and hops into it. His engine roars to life as he presses the ignition button, and shifts his gear down to reverse, the other hand clutches the steering wheel, and his foot steps on the gas.

The city lights fly past Katsuki’s vision and reflect beautifully against his car’s glossy paint. His mind is solely focused on you as he speeds through the streets of Musutafu. He broke hard at red lights before stomping on the gas at the green lights, trying his hardest to get back to you as quickly as he could while his heart raced with fear.

Katsuki Bakugou was never a religious man, there’s been times when he’s been at death's door yet he still never believed in any higher being, but right now he’s praying to any god or deity who’s willing to listen to his prayers that he can save your relationship from breaking. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows how desperate you’ve been to have one-on-one time with him yet he’s never complied.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Katsuki why can’t I just go over to spend five minutes with you during your lunch break?”

“Because Y/n I’m busy,” He growled as he brushed his teeth.

“You can’t even spare five minutes? Or what about leaving to work later in the mornings so we can eat breakfast together?”

“Woman, would you drop it? I’m a busy man, you know this. Don’t ya got yer own hero shit ta work on?” He argued.

“I mean yeah but-” “Then drop it Y/n,” He growled before throwing some water into his mouth and gurgling to spit out.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Katsuki’s brows furrowed as a whine crept up his throat. His hands clutched the steering wheel tighter as his foot pressed on the gas pedal harder. He was almost home but it felt like he’d never get there. The 20-minute drive to your shared apartment felt like hours when he practically made it in five minutes. He sped into the driveway of the parking structure, smashed the pin code into the machine, and waited impatiently to be let in by the auto-mated closed gates of the apartment complex. Once the gates opened just enough for his car to drive through he sped into the parking lot, parking quickly with a harsh screeching of his tires breaking as he put his Camaro into park.

He quickly grabbed his duffel bag stuffed with his dirty hero outfit, grabbed his keys and water bottle, and got out, locking his car before booking it to the parking garage elevator. Katsuki's furrowed brows and creases of his skin were etched with worry and nervousness. What will await the hero once he enters his shared home with you? Are you mad? Are you upset? Are you angry waiting for him with a knife in hand? Okay, that last one was a stretch but Katsuki’s just stressed.

For a year or more he’s carelessly thrown his relationship with you to the side, blinded by his hero upcoming to realize that just loving someone isn’t enough to make a relationship healthy. God, he’d fucked up. He fucked up so bad. He’s just secretly praying to whoever will listen that he hasn’t messed up too badly. He needs you, his rock, his anchor, his breath of fresh air, his love, and hopefully his future wife, that is, if you even want to still be with him.

The sound of the elevator bell rings brings the ash blonde out of his trance. He quickly steps out of the elevator and rushes down the hall to your home. His hands were shaking slightly as his head began to get slightly fuzzy. His chest heaved quickly as his thoughts were overrunning with insecurity and fear. After a few moments of doing his breathing exercises his therapist, whom he was forced to see once a week, taught him to do, he exhaled with shut eyes before opening them and standing taller with confidence.

He unlocks the door and goes inside the apartment. His movements match the sound echoing throughout the apartment, quiet. He sets his duffel bag down in front of the sideboard and sets his keys in the key bowl before turning around and closing the door, making sure to lock it. His eyes scan the dark home looking for any sign of disorderliness throughout it. He quietly makes his way into the home and heads straight to your shared bedroom. He opens it with caution, careful not to disturb you.

It’s dark, the lights in the room are off yet the only thing that allows him to see you is the illuminating light from the TV reflecting onto your figure. He was cautious entering the room and getting closer to you with careful footing as he tip-toed closer to the bed. Your curled-up figure seemed so small and vulnerable to him as he approached your sleeping figure and sat down at the foot of the bed, careful not to wake you.

He sighed as he carefully laid a palm on your calf that was covered up by a blanket he hadn’t recognized. Fuck, just how absent has he been. A soft movement of bed sheets shifting catches Katsuki’s attention. His head and eyes follow the source of the noise as his carmine eyes meet yours. You had sat up, you're awake. Katsuki's tough focade falters slightly as his gaze catches with yours. He gulps, making mental preparations for the important conversation to come. He chooses to go with a small icebreaker, trying to gain an understanding of what you’re currently feeling.

Katsuki secretly prided on how well he could read you and made mental notes of how he was doing a good job as a first-time boyfriend. But right now he couldn’t read you and that scared him. You’re pulling away, that much is obvious, but how long have you been pulling away from him? Can he stop you? Does he still have time to reel you back in? He hopes he still has time to prevent you from distancing yourself further. Please let there be time.

“Sorry to wake you, angel,” He whispered as he scooted closer, enough to be able to lean down to kiss your forehead, to which you leaned away from the action, causing Katsuki’s throat and heart to constrict painfully.

His palms begin to sweat, he can feel the watery sensation begin to release out of his skin. He leaned back away to get a better view of your face. Just what was going on inside that pretty head of yours? He had to know. He needs to know how to fix this.

“Angel?” He called lowly, in a careful way to not tip you off.

“Where were you?” You finally spoke. Katsuki could feel his throat dry so he cleared his throat and wet his lips, before swallowing the lump in his throat and speaking.

“Workin’...” He responded, his head low showing slight vulnerability to you.

“Working?” You repeated his statement with slight venom on your tongue.

Katsuki didn’t know what else to respond with besides just nodding his head as an answer. His lack of acknowledgment and speaking starts to get you bothered. Does he not care? Has he not have anything else to say? Probably because he doesn’t even realize why you're upset. Hell, he most likely forgot, it's the most obvious answer you didn’t want to acknowledge. Denying such a ridiculous thing because you know your Katsuki wouldn’t forget. He’s a very organized man, he would’ve put it in his calendar that he checks hourly, unless he just didn’t care enough to put it down.

Obviously… he didn’t mark it down. It wasn’t a special enough day for him to put on his calendar. How stupid were you? A year without a date or properly seeing him isn’t a sign enough to show you that he just doesn’t give a fuck? Missing your anniversary isn’t a sign enough? You’re a pathetic girl in love with a man who’s in love with his job and nothing more. The answer to your question has always been in front of you yet you always dismiss it because of “faith” and “hope” that bonded you to your love for Katsuki.

Now those ropes have snapped from him with the realization. Your last hope of salvaging this relationship, this love has snapped. He saw it. He saw a change in your eyes. A slight sliver of your love vanished. His heart was crumbling. His pulse was quickening and his palms were growing sweatier at the second. He was losing you. He felt it, he knew it. He has to do something, there has to be something to be done to fix this. He has to, he can’t lose you.

“H-How was your day?” He choked lowly. Was he fucking serious?

“How was my day? Are you fucking kidding me?” You hissed. How stupid is he to ask that? Could he not tell? Of course not, because he doesn’t love you.

Fuck. Was that wrong to ask? Obviously, what does he do now?

“Is it wrong to ask my girl how her fuckin day was?” He growled.

“Don’t you fuckin go turning this around on me,” You raised your voice. At that, Katsuki gets defensive and raises his voice back.

“Turning this on you? All I did was ask how your day went or do you not want me to care?”

“Fuck you Katsuki Bakugou. Seriously fuck you.” You seethed.

“What’s gotten yer panties in a twist huh?” He spat.

“Okay Bakugou, just throw everything on me because I’m a shitty girlfriend, okay,” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes and rose out of bed, making your way to the closet.

With angry eyes, Katsuki watches you as he gets up from the bed and drinks in your every move.

“Did I fucking say you were? No, so don’t go putting words in my fuckin’ mouth when ‘m tryna talk to you,” He growled as his brows furrowed.

This was going wrong, so, so wrong.

“Well, how you're talking to me is telling me that!” You spat as you begin to rummage through the closet for something.

“Will you just fuckin’ stop actin’ like this, how do you expect to have civil conversations if yer actin’ like a bitch?” He spat.

Your movements came to a stop. Halting looking for whatever it was you were looking for. Your eyes widened as you stared blankly at the hanging clothes in front of you. Katsuki’s face mimicked yours as your back that was turned to him stiffened at his comment. It took Katsuki a moment before realizing what he said. His anger began to dissipate and regret, guilt and nervousness began to wrack through his mind and body.

“Y/n I didn’t mean-” Katsuki started as he reached an arm out to you.

“I hate you.”

His breath caught in his throat. His outstretched arm halted its movement as he stiffened and his body froze in place. His heart stopped and his body felt as if he was falling. Falling fast and hard to the ground, similar to the time he realized he was in love with you. Only this time it felt like he was dying. His heart constricted with pain it felt as if his heart stopped beating, like he stopped being able to breathe. His skull felt as if it were crushing down his brain.

‘I hate you.’ Not the sweet ‘I love you’s’ he loves to hear from you. Not the ‘love you’ that he craves you to whisper in the crack of dawn as he tries to swiftly untangle your sleepy limbs from his. Not the ‘I love you so much’ he needs to hear when he wakes you up at night accidentally because he was a tad bit loud trying to sneak into the shower without waking you, just to fail miserably and go over to kiss your forehead and you whisper those sweet words after he’s had a long shit day at work. Not the ‘I’m in love with you’ you first said after your twentieth date before he asked you to be his. Not an ‘I love you’ but an ‘I hate you’. You hate him. Not love, hate. Hate. You, his only weakness when it comes to anything, sweet you who he adores although he hardly shows it. You, who he needs although he hardly proves it.

You who he loves more than anything in the world, although he’s never said it. Is that why you hate him? He’s been an asshole, he can see it now. Is it selfish of him, to want to keep you when all he’s done is hurt you? Probably, but does he care? No, because Katsuki Bakugou is a selfish bastard but he’s going to change that with you. He wants to change that for you. He has to because he loves you. Even if you hate him he’ll follow you to the pits of hell because he loves you so much. He hopes it's not too late, he hopes there’s still something to be done to fix this.

“I love you.” He whispers through a broken whine. He hears the soft hitch caught in your throat.

He sees how the muscles and limbs of your body tense at his words. His eyes drink in every little thing you do to come up with his thoughts of what you must be thinking. From what he’s observed, what he said did nothing to help the situation.

“What?” You whispered.

“I-I umm. I said-”

“No. I heard what you said.”

He doesn’t respond, just stands cautiously waiting for you to speak. He feels it coming, the outburst.

“Why?” You murmured.

He wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t mentally tuned everything else in the world out just so he could focus on you. He was good at doing that. Being a hero forced him to learn these things regarding the human senses. He trained himself to be a hound dog with his eyes, ears, and smell for the job. With that experience, he could always hear the slightest change of your breath whenever he was around you. He heard your response, now he has to figure out what you mean by why and come up with a good response to save this relationship.

“What do you mean why? Because yer my girlfriend that’s why,” He scoffed. God his cursed fucking mouth.

“Just because I’m your girlfriend?” You repeated lowly.

Katsuki’s guard keeps going on higher and higher alert which he didn’t know was possible. It worried him. He didn’t respond, didn’t know what to respond with, so he waited for you to speak.

“You say you love me but you only love me because I’m your girlfriend?” You snapped as you turned around to face him, causing his body to snap straight up at your sudden outburst.

“You don’t love me because I’m hard-headed yet so calming. Because I’m rude but so loving. Or because I’m ruthless but so caring, or emotionally unavailable yet so emotional, or rough and tough yet so soft and gentle or scary looking yet so soft looking, or rough around the edges yet mushy in the center, or a bully yet sincere or mean yet kind or cocky yet insecure or brave yet fearful or clever but stupid or clean yet dirty or organized yet unorganized or active yet lazy or hygienic yet sometimes unhygienic or strong yet soft or ambitious yet negative or because you set goals so high the world can’t see them yet you go above and beyond to reach them, or because you inspire those around you without meaning to or because you strive for something so great and you work so hard to achieve it or because you don’t let anything stand in the way to get what you want or because you’re so beautiful and I don’t mean from the outside but the inside because Katsuki you are incredibly beautiful inside and out and that’s why I love you…I love you for all of those reasons because it makes you, you, and I love that, I love you. But if you can’t give me one simple fucking reason why you love me besides the fact that I’m your girlfriend then I don’t want to be anymore… because that just proves this relationship has been one-sided this whole time. I’m tired Katsuki… I’m tired of the late nights with no contact from you. I’m tired of always coming second and putting all the effort into this relationship to keep it from tearing but it’s already been torn. I am tired Katsuki. I’m done being tired.” Your broken voice broke him.

He tried and tried and tried so hard to keep himself strong but with everything you said, explaining every detail of him down to the bone broke him. For the first time in a very long time, Katsuki Bakugou broke down. His face instantly contorted to anguish as hot fat tears spouted down his soft cheeks. His arm quickly came up to cover his eyes from you as his unoccupied hand gripped at his shirt where his heart was. His knees buckled as he fell to the ground still sobbing. His emotions were running wild with absolute adoration for you yet he was heartbroken. You love him. A complete asshole who’s done nothing but hurt you, you love him, but he couldn’t love you as you deserved and now he’s going to lose you forever.

“I’m sorry!” He howled through choked sobs.

As he peered up to look at you, you weren’t there. He quickly got up and wiped his tears away as he scanned the room. His ears caught the sound of a heavy plop sound coming from the living room. He hurried to the noise source as he saw you stuffing a sweater into a duffel bag. The alarms in his head stopped as his mind came to a realization. You were leaving. He quickly went to you.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked with a demanding tone. You didn’t respond, just continued to stuff some things you had laid out on the couch.

“Y/n I’m talking to you!” He called for you louder as he reached to snatch your wrist to prevent you from packing your things further.

“Let go of me!”

“Not until you talk to me!” “I did talk!”

“Well yeah but-”

“No Bakugou, you forced me to talk earlier so I did and now I’m leaving. I spoke my peace, I got nothing more to say to you.”

“Well, I got way more to say to you, but I need you here to say it.” He growled, yet his eyes showed panic.

The slight shaking of his arm and hand, which kept you firmly in place from leaving, caught your attention as you looked into his eyes and down at his hand that gripped your wrist. You nodded slightly, causing Bakugou to loosen his grip. You took that slight change to snatch your wrist back. Katsuki stared down at you with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

“What Bakugou?” You asked with a tiredness to your tone.

Your shoulders slumped and your eyes drooped. You're tired. He can see it. The slight black dusting your eye bags. Your eyebrows creased to show your exhaustion. He sees it, your love dissipating. It makes him tremble. He doesn’t miss the name you address him as. His last name. No loving nickname. No first name. Just Bakugou. His last name. Something strangers address him as. The last name he wanted to share with you. Was it too late? Is it too late to still give it to you?

He wanted to propose to you. He wanted you to carry his last name. Wanted to share a deeper bond through marriage. Wanted to share new experiences as a bonded pair through golden rings. He had everything planned for your fifth anniversary. He fucked it up. Katsuki didn’t believe in love until he met you. The love that is now one-sided. He knew he’d been unfair these last few months. No, it’s been longer than that. He knew it, he just didn’t want to believe how shitty he’s been. As a very prideful and cocky man who prides himself on being the best in every aspect, he didn’t want to believe he failed. No, that’s not what’s eating at him. It’s that the one good thing he had in his life was leaving. Fleeting and he’s scared of the unknown.

In the hero industry, he excelled at foresight. He always had plans to be one step ahead, and always had an idea of what would happen next. Now he’s got no clue what’s going to happen and that scares him because it’s about you. He wants you more than anything and he knows that now. He doesn’t want to lose you. He’s known that but he didn’t show it and now you’ve reached your breaking point and he’s so fucking scared of a life without himself by your side.

“Please. Y/n I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything.” He said lowly with a break to his words.

You stood there watching your- watching Bakugou break. You did this. The great Dynamight who’s notorious for his strength and unvulnerability is broken before you. Some twisted part of you isn’t even empathetic towards him. You’re glad he’s hurting as you have been for the past year. Yet the part that loves him is aching. The inner battle of turmoil is clouding your judgment.

“I’ve been an asshole. I know that- I see that now-”

“So what? Did it have to take you losing me to see that?” Bakugou’s lips pursed tight and wobbled slightly. Loose you? Was this truly it? Did he really lose you?

“Please. Please, I’m sorry Y/n. I’m sorry for everything-!”

“And what exactly are you sorry for? Do you even have the slightest understanding of why you’re even sorry?” You shouted with tears brimming your eyes.

“For being an asshole! For being a horrible shitty fucking boyfriend! For being negligent and absent and expecting everything from you and giving you nothing from me! I see now how I’ve treated you and I know now how horrible of me that is and I’m sorry!” Bakugou rasped with tears.

Tears he’s vowed he’d never shed but are now sprouting from his eyes. Falling to his knees he sinks into himself as he crumbles. His world seemed to crumble down to ash. This is what he was good at. Destruction. Destroying anything and everything he touches. His quirk that he prides himself with, the quirk of explosion that makes Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki, was now seeming to feel like a curse rather than a blessing.

Katsuki flinches as his senses reel him back into reality from the soft touch of your fingers against his cheeks. His eyes drink in your face, the crease of your brows furrowed into an expression of sadness and worry. The puffy redness around your eyes hints at you crying. The tip of your nose is red and your lashes are slightly damp. God, you were truly beautiful. A gorgeous woman he had the liberty to call his at one point. At least he got that. Though his heart will never be satisfied with that.

“Thank you for the apology.” You said so softly.

The soothing tone he loved to hear. Lately, it was the only tone of voice you’d speak since he would only return home to you at ungodly late hours. The tone you called his name with when you were half asleep. So melodic.

“I love you,” He rasped as his body moved to hold yours, but you stopped him.

Your hands reached out to keep him at a distance by his shoulders. His gaze fell to your hands that pressed on his shoulders and back up to your face in confusion.

“I can’t,” you whispered. Katsuki felt his heart twist painfully again.

“You, can’t?”

“Oh, Katsuki. It’s not that easy anymore. We can’t just fix everything with a simple apology and an “I love you” and expect everything to be perfect.” You sighed as you returned your hands to your side and avoided his gaze in defeat.

“I know that. I do. That’s why I’m willing to do whatever I have to to fix this. Us. For us.” He announced as he slowly reached for your hand to hold in his. You noticed and quickly moved your hand away from his.

“No Katsuki you don’t get it. It’s not simple at all. This situation. Our relationship. It’s non-existent. I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Then, then tell me what to do. Tell me what I can do to fix it and I will. I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Please.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You can baby. Anything you need from me, just tell me so I can fix this. I can’t lose you Y/n, please. He whined.

“I can’t Katsuki.” “Yes, you can! Please! Please Y/n. Just-just tell me what I can do to fix us. To save us! C’mon Y/n, please! Just tell me what I can do! There has to be something I can still do to save us! Please!”

“I can’t!” “Why?! Why can’t you?! There has to be something to be done still please baby!”

“I can’t because there’s nothing to be done Katsuki!” There it was. The final tether of the string that tied your hearts together, it snapped.

“Nothing?” You didn’t respond. Just kept avoiding eye contact. Trying to focus on anything but him.

“Is this really it?” He murmured, although he was more so speaking to himself.

The disbelief. The refusal to accept it. The denial. His heart can’t. It’s refusing to accept the loss of you. It’s crying, screaming, threatening to rip out of his chest and rush to yours. To hug and hold your heart and beat warmly once again. But Katsuki has to resist, to hold it back and keep it in its ribcage, locked up. Forever in solitude as it deserves, as he deserves. He can’t blame you. He’s been so fucking awful to you. He can’t blame you, judge you, not even think about hating you, but it doesn’t mean he has to be okay with it. He’s not sure if he’d ever be.

“I’m sorry. There’s just nothing else to be done anymore. It’s over.” You said softly with a crack at the end of your sentence.

Katsuki knows you love him. But the damage he’s made has been done and he’s pushed past your limit. He understands. But even with knowing his heart can’t stop it’s yearning for you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, just merely above a whisper.

Loud enough for you to just catch it. You finally decide to look up at him and you see just how disheveled he looks, how broken he seems, and he is. It’s felt like hours. Perhaps it has been. It’s been hours since you left. Left him here, alone. Hours since he’s moved from the floor. He’s still sitting on the cold wood floor since the argument. He can’t find the energy to move. How long has it been? He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to find out. His gaze drifts to the windows of the apartment and notices the dark sky. Fuck, it’s late. It’s been a whole day yet all he can think about was what happened hours prior. His eyes move to look for his phone.

Finally having some sort of motivation drives his body to get up and search for his phone. He finds it on the kitchen counter. He turns his phone over and the first thing he’s greeted with is his lock screen picture of you and him, smiling like idiots in love. He fights so hard to keep the dam he worked hard to build over the past hours to stay up. With a hard deep breath, he wills himself to unlock his phone and takes off the Do Not Disturb. His phone instantly floods with notifications, messages, and missed calls, none of which were from you. His eyes scanned to see most texts were about his whereabouts from work employees such as his PR team, assistant, weird hair, and the nerd.

Instead of reapplying the Do Not Disturb, Katsuki just shuts his phone off completely. He has no use for it. He also wouldn’t like to see the reminder of what he once had on it either. He tosses his phone back onto the kitchen counter and takes a good, hard look around the place. It’s the same as it has been for years. It’s changed since you and him first bought it. Aside from all the hard work you put into decorating it, it’s still the same. Only now it feels emptier than it had been the day you both first moved in.

Katsuki takes the time to actually take in his surroundings and notices just how much the space has changed. His entire home looked more feminine yet empty. As if only one person lived here. Slowly his shared home with you began to look like just a home for you. Slowly things that made the home for you both began to disappear. The little decorations that he added for slight touches of his personality to blend with yours were now gone and all he could see was you. You surrounded this space and it frightened him because he’s now realizing he had been pushed out of your heart and mind completely for far longer than he’s realized. You drew all thoughts of him away by removing everything that made the home him and you to just you. Maybe in doing so it dulled the ace of him being a dead-beat boyfriend.

He wouldn’t blame you if that were the reason, it just doesn’t dull the ache within. Katsuki heads to the bedroom and slowly opens the door. As he enters the room he notices the changes that had been made. The silk black sheets he bought years ago now changed to white silk ones. The bed frame is new, and the mirror in the corner of the room is new as well. The tv is larger than the previous one and the blankets are a different color as well. God fucking dammit, he’s been sleeping here for five years, sharing a home with you was the best thing to experience but even though he’s been here he wasn’t truly here. Absent-minded living has driven you away and he can see why. He’s not noticed a thing that’s been going on under his roof. Even under his fucking nose for crying out loud.

He’s angry. All his emotions are building up. Fueling the giant pit of fire in his belly. The surging flames explode up the tubes of his veins, flowing into his brain. The flaming bursts of emotions kept fueling into his mind until it overflowed to be too much and then, he exploded. Crackling and thundering echoed throughout the walls of the apartment. Loud booming and thudding hallowing like a storm. Red. Nothing but red is all he can see. Red is all he sees as he grabs and throws anything he can grab a hold of. Red is all he sees as he blows up anything and everything in his path. Red is all he sees as he repeatedly pounds his fist against the wall.

Blue is all he sees when images of you pop up in his head. Blue is all he sees when he blinks his tears away. Blue is all he sees when he closes his eyes and slides his slumped body down against the wall that is bloody and charred. Black is all he sees when his exhausted body succumbs to the sleep he so desperately needs. When he sleeps, he can dream.

When he dreams, he can dream of a world where something could be done to keep your love for him...

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

.*☆ﾟ.* Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for reading my story and if you liked it please let me know! I WILL be doing a Part 2! If you would like to be in the tag list for it please let me know!! I also have a few other stories on my masterlist so feel free to read those as well! Thank you and please come again! .*☆ﾟ.*

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x reader angst #bakugou x reader angst #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo katsuki

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daisyblog · 9 months ago

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Wine, Pizza and Never Have I Ever

Unexpected Love Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN’s second date.

It had been two weeks since their first date. Harry had been busy in the studio and YN had been busy with Jacob and in the florist. But despite their busy lives, they had been texting back and forth every moment they could, and on some evenings talking over the phone.

As Jacob was staying at his dad’s that evening, YN and Harry had arranged to see each other again. Due to Jacob being picked up at 6:30pm, YN asked if Harry was happy to have dinner at her place instead.

The sound of the door knocking alerted YN that Jack was here. Opening the door, they smiled at eachother and YN invited Jack in. “Jacob…Daddy’s here!”.

“What are your plans for the weekend? Zara mentioned you were thinking of taking the kids to the beach”. YN asked Jack as they waited for Jacob. Zara is Jack’s fiancée and they have a little boy, Theo who is nearly two.

Jack shrugged his shoulders at the question. “We’re going to let Jakey decide in the morning”. He looked at YN with a suspicious grin. “You’re dressed nice for someone who likes to be in her pyjamas by seven”.

“I fancied a change…is that okay?”. YN laughed knowing how right Jack was. Usually by now she would be in her unmatching pyjama with a messy bun.

Jack continued to stare, until he cracked. “You’ve got a date, haven’t you?”. The big smile on his face was genuine. He’d waited a long time for YN to finally give in and give someone a chance. “Who is he? Do I know him?”.

“Shut up Jack!”. YN could feel the pinkness rush up her neck and land on her cheeks. “It’s just a second date”.

“Second? Second date?”. He continued to question. “You owe me and Zara all the details…oh wait until I tell her!”.

“It’s still early days, but I like him”. YN admitted as they still stood in the hallway. “Why are you smiling like that?”.

“‘Cause I’ve waited for this day forever and I want you to be happy”. Jack couldn’t hide his excitement.

“Daddy!”. Jacob ran his little legs into his father who scooped him up into his arms. “Missed you”.

“I’ve missed you too bud!”. He kissed his cheek in affection. “Give Mummy a kiss and cuddle and let’s go have fun”.

YN cuddled Jacob tightly as she already missed him before he had left. “I love you to the moon and back again”.

“I love you too Mummy”. His sweet voice whispered into her shoulder.

“Go and have fun with Daddy and give Zara and Theo a big cuddle from me okay?”. YN watched as Jacob held Jack’s hand, ready to leave for the weekend.

“You have fun too yeah?”. Jack wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing YN to roll her eyes. “Remember we want to know all the details”.

“I love you Jacob…goodbye Jack!” YN put emphasis on the last part as she chuckled to herself.

---

Harry arrived just after 7pm and YN couldn’t believe how someone managed to look so good in an outfit so effortless.

“Hi.” YN greeted him and gestured for him to come in before closing the door behind him.

“Hi”. Harry let out a shy giggle at the sight of seeing YN again. He leaned in gently gave her hug and a peck on the cheek. “You look beautiful”.

“Thank you”. YN blushed at both the peck and compliment. “Come through”. Harry followed YN through another door before they entered what he knew was the lounge area. “I hope you didn’t mind coming here tonight…I just thought it was easier with Jacob being pick-“.

“YN” Harry interrupted with a smile. “It’s fine…I promise”. Harry took a seat next to her on the sofa. “Here I’ve got us a bottle of wine”.

“Oh something old and red.” YN rose from her seat as she looked at the bottle. “I’ll go and get some glasses for us”. She walked to the kitchen. She felt like she needed to keep herself busy, to ease the nerves.

“You know your wine”. Harry showed his dimples as he fidgeted in his seat. He watched as YN walked through to what he assumed was the kitchen.

He looked around trying to learn more about YN, when he saw a photo on the sideboard he went for a closer look. Harry pointed YN out straight away as she smiled loudly for the camera. She held a little boy in her arms, who he naturally thought was Jacob. But he wondered who the other people in the photo were.

“I’ve got two glasses and some nibbles for us” YN disturbed Harry’s as she placed the glasses and some bowls with snacks in on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

“Uh sorry…I was being a bit nosey”. Harry got himself into a fluster, as he placed the photo frame back in its original place.

YN shook her head as Harry sat back down next to her, taking a sip of his glass. “You can look, it’s fine”. YN took a sip from her own glass.

“Is the little boy you’re holding, Jacob?”. Harry couldn’t help but ask, he knew it was because he could see they had the same eyes that crinkled when they smile.

YN glanced over at the photo. “Yeah it’s Jacob”. She smiled at Harry. “The man and woman is actually Jacob’s Dad and his fiancée and their little boy, Theo”.

YN tried to read Harry’s reaction, but for once she couldn’t. “It’s a lovely photo”. He complimented.

“I know it probably seems strange…me having the photo but-“. YN began to justify herself, feeling her throat close a bit with nerves. Her voice wobbled a bit has she began to defend herself.

“Hey” Harry’s voice was gentle as he reached over and touched her hand. “It’s okay…you don’t need to explain yourself to me…my first thought was that’s how blended families should be”.

“M’sorry…it’s just people have told me it’s strange that Jack and I still get on…and that me and Zara are friends”. YN explained as she looked down at Harry’s hand that was still on hers.

“Do you want to know what I think?”. YN nodded. “I think you need to stop believing what other people think, and actually be proud of yourself for putting Jacob first and being able to co-parent”.

YN smiled at his words because she knew he was right, she cared too much about what others thought. “Okay…when do I start to see your flaws?”. She joked as she nudged his shoulder playfully.

Harry let out a laugh, his smile wide and his eyes crinkled. “What do you mean?”.

“You just seem to perfect for me…me being a Mum doesn’t bother you…me getting on with my ex and his partner is fine too…you just seem too good to be true”. Harry laughed at YN’s teasing, rubbing his finger under his nose as he did.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I’d like to think I’m quite humble…I mean my Mum was a single Mum when I was growing up and we would see my Dad on the weekend…so I think I just get it”:

“Well tell your Mum she raised a one of kind”. Harry took YN’s compliment because he knew his Mum was the kindest woman he knew.

“Shall I order us pizza?”.

---

It was later in the evening and YN and Harry were both a couple of glasses in, and full from sharing a large pizza. The effect of the wine was starting to show as they both became extra giggly and Harry’s hand now rested on YN’s knee as they both leaned towards each other.

“Okay…never have I ever gone skinny-dipping?” YN asked and they both took a sip from their glass. “Spill!”.

Harry let out a chuckle at YN wanting to know details. “Uh…I was on tour with the band…and one night me and a few of the boys thought it would be funny to sneak down to the pool, and go skinny dipping”.

“Did you get caught?”. YN asked as she leaned her head on her hand against the top of the sofa.

“Only by our security…but they just laughed at us and told us to go back to our rooms”. Harry recited the memory. “What about you?”.

“It was when I was in uni…we went on a trip to the beach and we were playing a game…and our team lost and that was the consequence…quite boring actually”. YN laughed at how plain her story sounded.

“Next one…never have I ever…been walked in on whilst having sex”. Harry asked but his drink stayed in place. But YN brought hers up to her lips to take a sip. “Really?”.

“Yes…it was so embarrassing!”. YN shivered at the memory of Jack’s older brother walking in at an awkward time. “Moving on…never have I ever joined the mile high club”. YN watched as Harry took a drink from his glass, a slight smirk on his face. “I always imagined it would be cramped”.

“Well I mean…depends on the plane…if it’s a private plane then you’ve got enough room”. They both laughed, the alcohol taking over. “Never have I ever..” Harry thought of another question. “Wanted to kiss someone in this room”.

Harry knew it was a bold move, he knew it could go either way but with the alcohol in his system and how close they were sitting, he took the risk. The way YN stared at him, he thought he may have ruined the moment but as he moved his glass up to his lips, YN mimicked his movement.

YN gently took his glass from his hands and placed them both on the table. “Maybe we should do something about that”.

Harry was in awe when she made the first move and placed her lips on his. He could taste a mixture of red wine mixed with strawberry lipstick, as their lips moved heavily against the others. Harry pulled her closer so she was straddling him, both looking for closeness.

YN moved her hands so they rested just below Harry’s neck. Harry’s one hand found familiarity on her thigh, whilst the other rested against her cheek. Their lips remained eager to get to know the other and their hands wanted to follow suit but nerves still remained present.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @vikiii07-blog @sleutherclaw

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winterweary · 1 year ago

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I think it’s funny when people try to call Lucifer abusive for hanging Mammon from the ceiling or chaining a frenzied Satan to the bed

Like his brothers are OVERPOWERED NIGH IMPERVIOUS DEMONIC BEINGS my man is DESPERATE

he’s on his knees giving THANKS that Mammon can be held by rope because he was running out of ways to even SLOW DOWN his Houdini-level escape artist brother

He’s PRAYING those chains will hold Satan long enough that the damn boy might actually fall asleep it’s been THREE DAYS SATAN JUST LAY DOWN AND CLOSE YOUR EYES

“but they shouldn’t have locked him up in the first place he 🥺”

Baby he was WILDING scratching his nails on the sideboards chewing through furniture spray bottle immune. Lucifer tried to keep him by his side instead and had to give in (THE DEMON OF PRIDE ADMITTING DEFEAT) because Satan wouldn’t stop snarling for HOURS

He’s like the parent who has kids time out doesn’t work on so he had to use an In Trouble Hat WHATEVER WORKS LONG ENOUGH FOR HIM TO VACUUM UP THE CARNAGE

#obey me lucifer #my man did the best he could and I will kill on this hill

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 7 months ago

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My Fair Lady's Maid (Regency!Aemond x Lady's Maid!Reader)

Part 2: An Ordinary Man

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: none

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: We're only with Aemond this chapter, but Miss Doolittle will return in the next!

An Ordinary Man

Aemond stepped out of the carriage first, extending a hand to help Helaena climb out. He knew his sister well, so he knew her legs would already be sore from dancing all night and did not want her to stumble on the loose gravel drive.

“Did you see the fireflies?” she asked as she climbed out. Her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyelids had begun to droop. “They were insistent, were they not?”

In truth, Aemond hardly remembered there being fireflies in the garden of their host’s estate. He had not ventured outside – the ladies were outside, and he had no intentions of being dragged onto the dancefloor. Still, he smiled at his sister and nodded.

Daeron clambered out of the carriage behind her. His cravat was rumpled, and his hair ruffled, as he always seemed to be after an evening out. “They were! I swear the same one was following me all night. I simply couldn’t shoo him away for longer than a minute.”

“It was all the sweets on the table outside,” their grandfather, Lord Otto Hightower, added as he stepped onto the drive. “I wouldn’t eat a bite. Who knows what other manner of vermin lurked about.”

Helaena flounced through the open doors, smiling brightly at the footman. “Fireflies aren’t vermin, grandfather! They’re beautiful.”

“Forgive me,” Otto said, gently grabbing her elbow so he could kiss her brow. “Of course they are.”

From a distance, Aemond wanted to say, but he wanted to keep his sister happy more, so he remained silent as they all gathered in the parlor. He removed his gloves, dropping them on the surface of the sideboard before withdrawing a bottle of his favorite port, much needed after such a long night.

“Are you going straight to bed?” Daeron asked as Helaena moved toward the stairs. “You don’t want to talk to us?”

“I need my rest!” she called over her shoulder. “My new lady’s maid will arrive tomorrow, and I want to give a good first impression.”

All three men smiled to themselves, waiting until her footsteps faded to speak.

“What use is there in making a good first impression on a servant?” Aemond wondered.

Daeron sighed, rolling his eyes as he stepped up to the sideboard, grabbing a glass and a bottle of sherry before reclining dramatically on the chaise. “Servant or no, the new girl will be her closest companion. Better the relationship be friendly, no?”

He uncorked the port and poured a generous amount into his glass. “I suppose. And it is in her nature.”

“Did any of the young ladies catch your interest, Aemond?”

His hand froze, hovering over the stem of his half-full glass. He swore that if his grandfather brought up the question of a woman one more time, he’d banish the old man to the shabby cottage deep in the woods, where he’d never have to hear that damnable question again.

He had sworn the same the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

One day, he may actually follow through on it.

That night, though, he simply seized the bottle of port again, filled his glass to the brim, and downed it all in one gulp. The burn in his throat was far more tolerable than any of the simpering women at the ball.

The Tully girl with the lifeless eyes of a dead fish and equivalent intellect. The Lannister could do little else but bat her eyelashes and assault the ears around her with her tittering laugh. The four Baratheon girls, each utterly vexing in her own unique way. And many, many more besides.

“Aemond?” Otto asked again. The false joviality vanished from his voice.

Damn, he’d waited too long to answer. Perhaps he could still pass it off as being consumed in thought?

“Why even ask?” Daeron half-laughed as he swirled his sherry. He always had to swirl it around for several minutes before he deemed it acceptable to drink but gave no reason for it. “He only ever looks at them long enough to notice their flaws.”

Aemond filled his glass again – only halfway this time. “If their flaws weren’t so noticeable, I may have looked longer.”

“Every young lady there was well-bred and well-accomplished. Several of them were even charming, by my estimation. Any one of them would have made a perfectly suitable wife.” His grandfather leaned forward in his chair, steepling his hands together. It was what he always did when trying to use reason to get his way. Oftentimes, it worked.

But not with this.

“I have neither the need nor the desire to find a wife, as I have made quite plain.”

“Every man of our station is in want of a wife, grandson.”

Aemond huffed. “I have no true station. I am nothing but an ‘ordinary man.’”

The words were not his own. It was only an echo of his uncle’s cruel words after the House of Lords had passed the judgment that left Aemond with no more than what his elder sister had deemed acceptable consolation for losing the lands and title that should have been his.

Now, all he had to his name was an old hunting lodge for an estate and a courtesy title. Rhaenyra had not even granted him a pocket borough to allow him into Parliament – that was given to her fool of a son who only rarely attended his duties.

“Even without the title, you are still an important man in the county. Kingswood is a large and profitable estate, and you command great respect from all.”

The empathy in Otto’s voice grated at Aemond. He, too, was a second son who stood to inherit only what his elder sibling would give him. But he could not truly understand; their situations were far too different. Otto had never come nearly as close as Aemond did to the title. It had been so close he could still feel its phantom presence upon his shoulder.

He stared at his reflection in his glass, elongated and deformed by the curved glass. “I still fail to see what benefits a wife would bring me.”

“A proper wife, a wife of good breeding, would enhance your reputation, grant you new allies, and perhaps even expand your holdings.” His grandfather hesitated before continuing, the only indication of his nerves the tightness in his raised brow. “The right match may even bring a title for your children to inherit.”

Aemond set his glass down with such force that it shattered under his hand, shards digging into his palm. It was a welcome distraction. “Nothing I cannot obtain myself.” Save, perhaps, the title. But he knew better to hope for what was impossible.

Otto was silent a while, sipping on his drink. Daeron did not dare disturb the silence. He’d been witness to this fight before. Aemond knew that in only a few more moments, his younger brother would awkwardly raise a different topic, and they could finally move past this particular subject.

But it was not Daeron who broke the silence. It was Otto.

“If you will not accept a wife for advantage, perhaps you will consider the personal benefits?” He looked at his grandson with an affection Aemond had not seen in years. “This estate is in desperate need of a lady’s presence.”

“We have Helaena,” Daeron whispered.

“Yes, but she lives in her own world, and I have no desire to force her into a role she does not want.” He turned back to Aemond, who steadfastly ignored him in favor of picking bits of glass out of his palm. “But we would all benefit from that role being filled.”

Aemond wrapped his handkerchief around his hand, tying it tight enough to stem the bleeding.

“I am not asking you to love the girl, Aemond. Love in marriage is rare, after all.” Otto’s voice faltered. He had experienced love in his marriage, though he rarely talked about their late grandmother. It was better that way, Aemond told himself. Hearing those love stories made his stomach roil. “But would it not be pleasant to have someone by your side? To help manage the estate and ease the burden on your shoulders? She could read to you, sing for you, play that pianoforte that has been collecting dust for years. She could decorate the house, maybe even with her own art. The ladies we met tonight were exceptionally accomplished. They could do all that and more.”

Wishing he had not smashed his glass for want of more alcohol, Aemond finally faced his grandfather. “Is that supposed to impress me? That they have grown proficient in what they have been trained in their entire lives?” He smiled wickedly. “Even the most foolish girl could be trained to do the same.”

“Even that girl we met in Rosby today?”

With his question, Daeron had shattered the argument as if it were a plate of thin glass.

Otto stared at his youngest grandson, then at Aemond, then back again. “What in God’s name were you doing in Rosby?”

“That creature was more beast than girl.” Aemond clenched his fists as he recalled the pitiful thing sprawled on the dirty road, the horrible noises she made, and…

“She was scared, Aemond.” He had never heard Daeron sound angry, yet here it was. “You frightened her.”

“Yes, I am well aware of that.” Aemond dug a finger into the largest cuts on his palm, almost immediately feeling blood soak through the handkerchief. He remembered very well the way the girl had stared at him – at his ruined eye and horrible scar. It was as if she could not believe he was real. Like he was some terrifying monster that had escaped from a book of faerie tales.

Daeron set down his glass, still full, and crossed his arms. “Then you insulted her.”

“I made observations.” He doubted the girl would even perceive his comments as insults, that she had the necessary intellect to do so.

“You called her a wretch and a goose.”

Aemond clenched his jaw in frustration. Why should Daeron care about what he said to some varlet? “I never said she was a goose. I said she sounded like one.”

“A ‘strangled goose,’ if I remember correctly.”

“Semantics.”

“Cruelty.”

Otto slammed his hand into the arm of his chair and stood, his face red with anger and eyes wide with confusion. “Will one of you kindly explain what manner of creature you met in Rosby of all places? And what she or it has to do with Aemond needing a wife?”

“It was nothing,” Aemond insisted. “An unfortunate encounter that has absolutely no bearing on this conversation. Or any conversation.”

“At the market today, Aemond quite literally ran into a poor girl in Rosby who was selling flowers. She was thrown to the ground, her flowers were destroyed, and she was distraught, and Aemond did nothing but dismiss and insult her. He wasn’t even going to reimburse her for the cost of her lost wares.” Daeron stood from the chaise and approached his brother, arms still crossed and eyes hard. “You just declared that ‘even the most foolish girl’ could be trained to act like a well-bred lady.” “Why shouldn’t that be true for that flower girl?”

Aemond snarled, the left corner of his lips twitching upward into a sneer. “I never said it wasn’t. But as I said, she had nothing to do with – ”

“Prove it.”

Both young men snapped their attention to their grandfather, their own argument forgotten.

“What?” Aemond asked. His anger was quickly morphing into something like dread.

Otto approached. There was no longer a trace of anger or confusion on his face, only a delighted smugness that Aemond knew well to fear. “You say any girl can be taught to be a lady. I am asking you to prove it – with that girl from Rosby.”

Daeron barked out a laugh, returning to his sherry and raising it in a toast. “A brilliant idea, grandfather!”

“I can see no reason why I should do such a thing,” Aemond insisted. He was fighting to control his anger and indignation. His jaw was clenched to the point of pain. Perhaps it would shatter like his glass had.

“If it is a reason you are looking for, grandson, I will give it to you.” Though he had no need to, Otto tilted his head back to look down his nose at Aemond. “If you prove that even this pitiful girl you’ve described can indeed be trained to be a proper lady, then I shall never broach the topic of your marriage again. You shall be free to marry whomever you wish or to not marry at all. But only if this wretch from Rosby becomes a passable lady – and not only by our estimation. She must prove herself publicly. The Embassy Ball would be ideal, don’t you think?”

He stepped even closer, forcing his grandson to retreat a step. “But if you cannot, and the poor girl makes a fool of herself, you will marry. I will arrange a match with one of the many fine ladies we saw tonight, and you will marry her within the year. Without protest.”

It was too great a risk, Aemond knew. It was more than likely that he would end up married to a woman he did not love who would upend his perfectly peaceful life.

But there was a chance…

A chance to leave all the countless arguments over his marriage in the past, to never have to hear his grandfather’s nagging again. He could live his life precisely as he wanted, without having to sire heirs he did not want or worry about inheritance. Daeron would be his heir, and his children after him.

Otto knew it, too. He knew he was dangling a feast before a starving man only to lure him into a trap. It was that knowledge, along with the self-satisfied smirk his grandfather wore, that made Aemond’s decision for him.

“Very well, I accept.” He extended a hand to seal the wager.

As his grandfather shook his hand, Aemond could not help but feel as though he had made the worst decision of his life.

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luveline · 1 year ago

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oooh! just had an idea!!! bombshell reader x spencer where he comes over to her apartment one day on the weekend to suprise her with breakfast/flowers bc they just started dating. however, bombshell is in sweats/no makeup/messy hair when she answers but when she sees its spencer, she FLIPS out/slams the door bc she doesnt want him to see her in that state. spencer, however, is confused ofc because he genuinely doesnt notice her outfit/lack of makeup and thinks she is gorgeous no matter what.

hope this is ok ♡ fem, 1.1k

The song starts slow and ends slower. You could picture Spencer listening to it, his head on your shoulder or yours on his, wired earphones shared between you.

You grab a pencil to jot a quick post-it note so you'll remember, one knee on your desk chair. You don't want to sit down with the shower running in case you get distracted by your new photo frame.

You and Spencer took a photo to commemorate finally getting together. Or rather, Hotch did, standing behind the camera with an impossible mixture of fondness and disapproval. You look like a true couple with matching graphic t-shirts and beaming smiles, Spencer's arm over your shoulders and yours behind his back. You can't see it without staring; you use all your strength to ignore the photo, pulling your post-it from its pad and tacking the yellow square to your vanity. Tell Spencer about love song from Ocean Boulavard.

The door to your apartment rings with a knock. If you weren't distracted in your losing don't-think-about-Spencer battle, you'd recognise the timid pattern of it.

You've been expecting a parcel all weekend.

"Coming!" you call, tugging a sweater over your vest top, plaid pyjama pants dragging against the floor as you make your way out of your bedroom and into the main living area. "Two seconds!"

You give yourself a precursory glance in the mirror next to the door before you answer it. You'd never go out like this, but the delivery driver won't see you long. You're mostly clean and fully dressed, though your socks don't match.

That's another thing to tell Spencer. He must be rubbing off on you.

"Hello," you say cheerily, pulling the door open with a smile.

"Hi," Spencer says, big brown eyes aglow at the sight of you, his hands full to bursting. There are enough things in his hands to hide his chest completely.

You don't have a chance to decipher exactly what he's brought as you flinch behind the cover of the door, not cruel enough to close it in his face, but wanting to. "Spencer! What are you doing here?"

"Well, you live here."

His hand comes up tentatively near yours on the door. He doesn't push it further in or attempt to come inside. He might have, if you hadn't squeaked in warning, biting down on the soft inside of your cheek.

"Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Everything is fine!" You squeeze your eyes closed, your pulse a hummingbird hammering between them.

"Really?" Spencer asks, taking back his hand. "Can I–"

There's a shuffling sound like he might step forward, and that's the last straw, you're fully panicking as you slam it closed.

A too long silence. Your breath comes unnaturally quickly, your thoughts racing to match. I can't believe I just did that. Why did I do that?

What do I do?

"Spencer, I'm naked," you say.

"You were definitely wearing clothes. What's wrong? I brought breakfast, I thought I'd surprise you. I texted you. When you didn't answer I figured maybe you were still sleeping after last night, but… now I'm thinking maybe I read that wrong."

"You didn't read it wrong! You can always come over!" you insist, looking around behind you as if you might suddenly find a full face of makeup hiding in your sideboard, or a fresh change of clothes hanging on the coat hooks.

"Okay, so, can I come in?"

You poke at the sore bit of skin in your cheek with a wince. "Spence, I'm not dressed. Like, I'm not ready. I look like a mess."

"You looked beautiful. For the two seconds that I could see your face, at least." You breathe in uselessly. An answer doesn't present itself. Spencer offers some wisdom while you panic, but you aren't sure you want to hear it. "We're dating, right? So as much as you clearly don't want me to see you like this, it's gonna happen. Hopefully regularly?" He laughs lightly on the other side of the door. "Can I please come in?"

Nerves gnaw at your fingers, uncomfortable pins and needles. "What if you don't like it as much?" you ask quietly. You're surprised he can hear you.

"Do you trust me?"

What sort of question is that? This isn't about trust. This is about you, an image of yourself you hold and that you want others to share, it's why you dress as you do, why you wear your intricate hairstyles, and spend hours upon hours priming and primping.

You want to be pretty deeply, especially in Spencer's eyes. Do you trust him to find you pretty still, without all the extra effort? Pretty from the moment you wake up?

You wait for the verdict as you open the door again. The handle clicks and lugs, the hinge whining as it swings inward. You step backward to allow him space, meeting Spencer's eyes with an insecurity that doesn't suit you.

He doesn't react at first. His hand tightens around the neck of a sprawling bouquet, wildflowers like a burst of colour against his chest, the long white body of a lily of the valley kissing the curve of his neck. He smells like powdered sugar donuts and the food truck they came from, the story of his obsession a remembered delight. I think of you every time I cross the square to the train station by my place. The warm vanilla smell reminds me of your perfume. But I'm usually already thinking of you. He's been bringing you donuts intermittently for months now.

He finally smiles at you, all manner of morning warmth flooding the room with him. The sun at his heels, the silky brown colour of his hair, you look up as he steps close, as light silhouettes him, turns the silk to fluff. You can see every detail this close down to the baby flyaways, and he can see the same.

"How could you think I wouldn't like this?" he asks. His words are hushed with earnestness but yards from hesitant. Spencer is unabashedly, genuinely enamoured with you. "You're so pretty. You always are."

You beg him silently to hold your face, taking the flowers from his hand. He can read you from that small action alone, raising a deft hand to your cheek.

You lean into his palm.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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aventurineswife · 21 days ago

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“In times of sorrow, I’ll be your hand to hold”

Summary: You are feeling rejected by your family, find solace in the company of Aventurine. After opening up about your struggles, Aventurine provides reassurance and support, offering a perspective shaped by his own tumultuous past. His words of encouragement and unshakable confidence inspire you to believe in yourself and your own potential, helping you heal from the pain of familial rejection.

Tags: @akari-umi, Aventurine x Reader, Comfort, Emotional Healing, Vulnerability, Family Rejection, Supportive Aventurine, Trust and Confidence.

Warnings: Mentions of family rejection and emotional distress, Brief mention of personal trauma and past struggles, Some mild language and sadness.

A/N: HII!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS!! 🤭💖 I'M GLADD YOU'RE COMFORTABLE ENOUGH TO SHARE/SEND A REQ TO ME!! 🫶💖 This might be a bit self indulgent 🫣😔

The corridors of the IPC's gleaming headquarters stretched endlessly, polished floors reflecting the intricate latticework of lights above. It was beautiful, sterile, and utterly alien to you. The weight in your chest from earlier still hadn’t subsided, pressing heavily against your ribcage as the sting of rejection burned fresh in your mind. You had come to Aventurine for a reprieve, though you weren’t sure if you’d find comfort in his company or simply distraction.

You leaned against the doorframe of his office, hesitant to step in despite his faint silhouette visible through the frosted glass.

“You’re early,” Aventurine’s voice came, smooth and melodic, though there was an edge of surprise beneath it. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

He opened the door, revealing himself in all his flamboyant elegance. His gold-embellished overcoat hung open, the spade-shaped window on his chest catching your eye before you glanced up to meet his gaze. That ever-present smirk danced on his lips, but there was a softness behind it tonight.

You swallowed hard, trying to mask your unease with a shrug. “Didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

His smile faltered for just a moment—brief enough to be missed by most, but you caught it. “Well, come in. We’ll fix that.”

As you stepped inside, Aventurine gestured to a sleek chaise lounge near the massive, holographic wall display behind his desk. He moved to the sideboard, pouring himself a drink before raising an eyebrow toward you. “Drink? Or are we starting with brooding silence tonight?”

“Silence,” you muttered, sitting stiffly.

Aventurine chuckled, the sound warm but calculated. “Suit yourself. Though, I must warn you, I’m notoriously bad at staying quiet.”

He approached and sank gracefully into a chair opposite you, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His gaze settled on you, unwavering, yet somehow not invasive.

“Something’s weighing on you,” he said simply, his tone shifting from playful to perceptive. “Care to tell your favorite Stoneheart about it?”

You hesitated, unsure where to start. “It’s… my family,” you admitted finally, voice small. “I—well, I don’t think I belong with them. Not really.”

Aventurine tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Family’s a tricky thing. They’re supposed to be the ones who know us best, yet they often misunderstand us the most. Tell me, did they say something particularly cutting, or is this a long-standing… disagreement?”

You gave a bitter laugh. “Both. They think I’m a failure. That I’m chasing something pointless by being here, trying to make a name for myself.”

His lips quirked upward into something between a smirk and a frown. “Ah, the curse of having vision in a room full of blind men.”

His words surprised a laugh out of you, though it was tinged with sadness. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m just fooling myself.”

Aventurine leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you. His voice dropped to a softer register, sincere in a way that felt rare. “Do you know why I prefer gambling over certainty?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because a gamble requires faith—faith that you’re more than the sum of your odds.” He extended a hand toward you, palm up. “And you, my dear, are far more than they’ve given you credit for.”

For a moment, you stared at his hand, unsure whether to take it. It felt like a gamble of your own.

“If they can’t see your worth,” he continued, his tone gentle but firm, “then they don’t deserve to reap the rewards when you prove them wrong.”

Your fingers found his, his grip warm and grounding. “But what if I fail?”

He smiled, this one softer than usual, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Then you try again. And again. Until they’re forced to see the brilliance they tried to deny.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t look away. His words weren’t just comforting; they felt like a lifeline, pulling you out of the darkness.

“You think I can do it?” you asked, voice trembling.

He grinned, a spark of mischief returning. “Oh, I don’t think. I know.”

The room felt lighter, the ache in your chest easing just a little as Aventurine’s confidence in you began to settle into your own heart.

For the first time that night, you smiled. “Thanks, Aventurine.”

“Anytime,” he said smoothly, releasing your hand with a wink. “Just remember, life’s a gamble, and I never back a losing hand.”

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #comfort #emotional healing #vulnerability #family rejection #supportive #trust and confidence

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capr1pengu1n · 5 months ago

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Let's go paint the town on our way home

Summary: After her latest crime, Harley comes home and wants nothing more than to rail her girlfriend in her adrenaline fueled state.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), villain kink/crime kink, dom!harley, thigh riding, fingering, strap-on use, praise and degradation, harley and reader are dating

Words: 3.1k

Notes: Wanted to write my gf while i work on a riddler request, I love writing Harley (and tbh I love writing wlw)

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‘This is Vicki Vale reporting live from downtown Gotham, where we’re receiving information that a business meal seating various members of the board of directors of Lexcorp was interrupted by known criminal Harley Quinn, who proceeded to hold them at gunpoint and rob them.’

Observing the TV with wide eyes, you watch the cctv footage of your girlfriend skipping into the Plaza Hotel armed with her pink and red glittery gun and baseball back strapped to her back. You sit up on the sofa, following the story as it’s being reported. Knowing she was planning something, she hadn’t told you anything about it, not a completely uncommon occurrence for her. But now as you sit and fidget on the cushions, fiddling with the expensive bracelet she’d given you a few weeks ago, you can’t deny the heat that rises to your cheeks.

Having a girlfriend who’s as dangerous and…unpredictable as Harley certainly kept life interesting, but you couldn’t deny how much her criminality excited you. Something about her bubbly personality being contrasted by the violence that she could display at any given moment was something that thrilled you and slightly scared you in equal measure.

Still, seeing the shaky phone camera footage capturing how she tormented the rich bastards of Lexcorp certainly makes you feel more thrilled and excited than anything. She’d opted to wear the red and black corset you loved on her, accentuating her body and pushing her chest up just right. It made you feel a little pervy, with your first thought being that you wished the cameraman lingered on her before he tried to duck under a table.

Regardless, that thought didn’t wait for long before you hear loud rhythmic knocks at your apartment door. You get up, but seemingly not fast enough before the door is rammed open. Gasping, you panic a little before your girlfriend bounces in, a bag on her shoulder and a wild look in her eye. Placing her gun on the sideboard and unclasping her bat from her back, she smirks.

“Awe sugar, you watchin’ about me?”

You can recognise her facial expression and general demeanor as she comes over to you. Her breath erratic and slightly laboured, her pupils blown wide, and that laser focused look in them. She’s high on adrenaline, on the thrill of committing a crime. And the way she slams her lips into yours proves that.

Stumbling backwards, you brace yourself on the sofa’s armrest before she pushes you fully on the sofa and climbs onto your lap. Her lips move quickly against yours, her red lipstick mostly likely smudging and leaving a mess. Licking your bottom lip teasingly, she giggles against you and pull away, now fully straddling you.

“Ya saw me on the news then?” She grins, clearly fishing for praise you were all too happy to give.

“Yeah, you looked amazing.” You breathe, staring up at her like she’d hung the stars for you.

“Mhm, I was pretty good huh?”

She leans down and kisses up your neck, kiss marks littering your skin in a frantic manner. Humming against it, she grins before sucking and leaving a large hickey, reveling in your soft noise.

“What did you…steal from them?” You ask, wanting to get a little more information out of her before she presumably rails you into oblivion.

She huffs against your neck, clearly not wanting to remove her teeth from your pulse point but she sits back up. However she grins and changes her mind as she hops off you and grabs the bag.

“Those rich shmucks had so much in those fat wallets, you got no idea sweetheart.” She grins, before dumping it all out onto your carpet.

Eyes widening, you take in the Rolex watches and wads of dollar bills and cuff links and…suit jackets?

“Oh yeah, made a few of ‘em strip naked. Heard ‘em sayin’ rude things about the waitress.” She explains with a cruel laugh, and you can’t deny how much you bite your lip a little at the thought of her humiliating those pigs. Noticing, she tilts your chin to look up at her now you’re sitting up, her chipped nail slightly digging in.

“You like that? The thought of me bein' mean to those men? Does it make your pussy wet to know how bad I am?”

Her slightly teasing and slightly demeaning tone has you nodding in agreement before you can process what she said, pathetic eyes looking up at her. Grinning, she bends over to kiss you again before groping you through your pyjama shorts. You gasp, not expecting her to touch you so quickly before she pulls her hand away with a smirk.

“Fuckin’ drenched, that’s my girlie.”

You whimper softly and nod, before Harley straightens up and bends down properly again to sift through some of her loot. Her ass is squeezed into a pair of her favourite red and black leather trousers, as you ogle her shamelessly. Just when you’re about to reach out and get some payback for her groping you, she moves and turns back to you, grabbing your arms and starting to place the expensive watches on you.

You almost laugh at how big some of them are on your arms, as she loads you up with watches that most likely cost more than your rent for a whole year. She hums at her handiwork, adding a few bracelets she got from the women of the hotel before sitting on your lap once again, running her hands along your chest.

“They look much better now, on the arms of someone much prettier.”

You smile a little at her compliment, before she slowly pushes your pyjama top up. She waits for your permission before pulling it clean off, starting to fondle your breasts. Pushing your chest out, she grins and circles you nipples with her thumbs. You respond with a soft noise, gripping her waist before gently trying to move her onto your thigh.

“God I’m desperate for ya dollface, seein’ you sat here so polite and civilian like, watchin’ reports of my crimes on the news.” She growls out, clearly excited as you make a strangled noise. She laughs before readjusting herself, starting to grind on your thigh as she kisses you once again. She completely dominates the kiss, her tongue in your mouth as you both swap spit. It’s messy and filthy and just what she wants. After her past partners, she’s overjoyed that she managed to find a girl like you, someone so innocent. In a way you almost remind her of herself, but she’s determined to treat you better than she was treated. You’re her goddamn princess, her pretty pet to be pampered and spoiled; as well as to be used for pleasure.

Starting to move her over your thigh, you let her hump against you, releasing her pent up energy. She moans softly into your mouth, causing your hips to buck up as your clit throbs. Head spinning, you shift her back and forth, attempting to keep up with her frantic and disjointed kiss. When she pulls away for breath, saliva connects your lips as she keeps grinding. Your hands move to her hips, before moving to squeeze her ass, finally doing what you’ve wanted to do as soon as you saw her in the skin tight leather.

She responds with a soft groan, gripping your neck as she keeps moving. With the sudden pressure, you gasp and start to bounce your leg, wanting to give her the most pleasure you can. Eventually though she reluctantly gets off you, just to quickly unbutton her trousers and pull them down. Gazing at her black lacy panties, she grins and gives you a spin. She’s never been one to be shy about her body in any capacity.

“Wore ‘em for you sugar, you like?”

You can only nod dumbly as she resettles on your thigh and starts again, pushing you so your back is against the sofa completely and her hand can find a home around your neck once again. She moans softly, only her panties separating her dripping cunt from your thigh as she grinds. You run your hands over her now exposed thighs, feeling the smooth skin underneath you. The shiver that runs through your girlfriend’s body makes you almost moan yourself, gripping her hips and guiding her movements again as the grip she has on your neck tightens a little.

“Fuck…you’re so good f’me, so so good.” She praises, words a little slurred due to how worked up she was before she even got her hands on you.

Wanting her to feel more, you gently move your hand and brush your thumb against her clothed clit, causing a high pitched whimper to escape her. Taking this as encouragement, you do your best to rub soft circles as she grinds against your thigh, before she stills and allows you to slip your hand fully into her panties. You rub her clit faster now, knowing her body well enough to know how close she is to the edge.

“Yeah just like that, yeah baby…so good…” she moans out, gripping your neck so tight you feel lightheaded. But that feeling only serves to push you more, wanting to feel her come undone. Your twisted way of rewarding her for her twisted actions. She starts to hump your hand, breath getting more airy and stuttery.

“I’m gonna cum sugar…yeah that’s it make me cum…” she encourages you, but with the grip on your throat it’s not like you have much choice. Still, you keep your rhythm until she’s cumming on your hand with a loud whine, soaking your fingers in her wetness. You whimper as she releases her grip, as you gulp heavy intakes of air.

She grins, seemingly not needing a rest after her orgasm before she excitedly pulls you up to your feet, kissing you frantically once more before pulling away.

“Ain’t you perfect. Come on, this is just the start.”

She pulls you into the bedroom, the garish watches on your wrists and arms clacking against each-other as she pushes you face first onto the bed. You go to readjust yourself, slightly dazed from the fast pace, before she slaps your ass.

“Nuh uh, no movin’” she reprimands you, as she reaches under the bed for the box you keep all your toys in. Since you both started dating, your sex toy collection had increased dramatically, with Harley always keen to try out new things, no matter how daunting they looked to you. In fact, in the first few months of you both dating, Gotham’s sex shops saw an uptake in robberies, which Harley pretends to not know anything about. She grabs a bottle of lube before she gets the blindfold out, going over and placing it on your eyes.

“Look at you…you’re the best thing I ever stole.” She says lowly, running a nail down your spine to make you shiver. Clenching your thighs together, you whimper and she has the audacity to laugh. “And so desperate already.”

She takes a moment to observe you, like a gift all for her, before she digs into the box again. You can hear her, but for someone so frantic and high on adrenaline earlier, she's certainly being slow now.

"Harley…”

“Don’t be a brat pet.” She scolds you, pinching your hip and causing you to jump a little. You hear the sound of metal clasps as you try your hardest to be good for her, to not move or squirm.

“Y’know…those men I robbed? They were sayin’ shit to the waitress about how good they were in bed. How good they could fuck.” She starts, causing you to frown a little in confusion before you hear the bottle of lube open and her wet fingers prodding against your hole.

You moan softly as she sinks them inside you, two digits stretching you out before she continues. “Thought it was so funny, the male ego and all that. As if they’re god’s gift.”

Trying to follow along with her words, you nod in agreement as she presses your g spot over and over again in a relentless pace. Your hips buck into the bed sheets, relieving some pressure on your aching clit.

“But it’s bullshit, ain’t no man that good.” She mumbles, pressing a third finger inside. That’s when you realise she isn’t just fingering you, she’s prepping you. Prepping you for something bigger.

Stretching your wet pussy, the lewd sounds make you whimper in embarrassment but only serve to spur Harley on. Her fingers dig into your hips to keep you still as she thrusts her fingers in and out roughly.

“Ain’t no way they’d be able to have you like this, dripping like a goddamn faucet for me.” She says proudly, smacking your ass as if to accentuate her point.

Roughly she removes her digits, before you hear the cap of the lube pop open again. You try and look under your blindfold and crane your neck but decide against it; when Harley’s in one of these moods, she can be brutal in regards to punishments. Then you feel the tip of a dildo against your needy hole, teasing your entrance.

“Ain’t no way they could fuck you like I can.” She declares, before the dildo is forced inside of you. Crying out, you claw at the sheets as it fills you, the size taking you off guard for a moment. Then when you feel her hips pressed against your ass, it all makes sense as she bottoms out inside you. She isn’t just fucking you with the dildo, she’s fucking you with her strap.

“Say it f’me sugar.” She tells you, pulling your hair gently.

“Nobody can fuck me like you Harls…”

“Damn right.” She says triumphantly before pulling out and thrusting inside again, causing you both to moan. It takes all her willpower not to just rail you into the mattress right away, knowing she needs to get you used to the pace and size. Despite her eagerness, she never wants to hurt you in a way you don’t enjoy, in a way you don’t beg her for.

Sliding her hand up your back, she settles on grabbing your hand, holding it as she rocks in and out of you at a steady pace. She peppers kisses along your shoulders, her red lipstick staining your skin in beautiful strokes of passion.

Every little gasp and whimper that falls from your lips is music to her ears, wishing she can bottle it inside a music box to play whenever she wants. Her thoughts drift to recording you and putting the sound in her fake jack-in-the-boxes; the look on penguin’s men’s faces or the pigs at GCPD when they hear your pretty cries before the trap explodes in a bomb of confetti and knock out gas.

However she’s snapped from those thoughts when she realises she’s slowed down. You’re moaning impatiently, trying to thrust back into her cock, to which she smiles.

“So slutty, all for me.” She coos, picking up the pace, “gonna whine like a little brat whenever i slow down?”

Nodding, you claw at the sheets as you're fucked, the laughter you hear from behind you only succeeding in getting your pussy that much wetter. Every nudge you feel the dildo against your g spot has you making pathetic noises, shivering as your girlfriend squeezes and gropes at your ass.

"C'mon doll, tell me you like it."

"I like it Harley." You're pretty proud of yourself for being able to remain coherent as you're railed, especially when she spanks you sharply.

"Yeah, bet you do. Bet y'were just waitin' for me to get home to fuck your pretty little cunt huh?"

Moving to nod, she spanks you harder, clearly in the mood to give you every scrap of sensation she can tonight. Scrambling forward a little, the jangle of the watches and bracelets on your wrists act almost like a bell on a collar, alerting her to your movements.

"Nuh uh, you ain't getting away from me babygirl. Just gonna lie there and take it."

And take it you do. You take each punishing thrust into your cunt, gasping for breath between whines and groans as Harley truly makes good on her word. She fucks you better than anyone ever has, anyone ever could. And you take it.

Soon your clit throbs from lack of attention, and you let out a pitiful noise, to which she responds "Awe, your clit all needy? Need ol' Harls to play with it? Make it all better?"

You nod and beg almost immediately, like a tape being played, desperate for her to give in. Luckily for you, she does, reaching around and rubbing fast circles.

"There ya are, ain't you a lucky girl. Could've made ya beg for it more. I'm in a givin' mood tonight."

Her words cause your body to tense, the pleasure simmering in your core as she keeps fucking you deep. God you wish you could see her from behind the blindfold, but you can't deny the sensations are all the more intense with it over your eyes. After a while, the build up of your orgasm threatens to reach its peak as you tell her.

"Oh baby, wanna see ya cum so bad. Come on sugar, gimme what I want. Want y'to make a mess all over my dick."

After her practically begging you, it only takes a few more thrusts for you to cum with a desperate moan, making good on her word and making a mess all over the plastic toy. She gives a shriek of happiness, not stopping until you twitch and gasp in overstimulation before reluctantly pulling out. Leaning down, she gives a comedically loud MWAH to your asscheek, branding you with a lipstick mark before undoing her strap.

"Did so well for me precious! God you're such a good girl." she praises as she lays beside you, beaming. You in turn thank her and snuggle up to her, letting her arms go around your body and pull you closer, reaching behind your head to undo the blindfold. Adjusting to the light, you squint up at her gorgeous face as she smiles down at you with pride.

"My favourite girl, you know that right?" she asks, pulling you impossibly closer. You miss it, but her soft expression conveys her satisfaction at your current situation; how safe she truly feels with you, and how grateful she is for that safety. You let her be herself, when at times she isn't completely sure what is herself. And hell, you even like it, you like her more obsessive and criminal tendencies. With a gently brush of her fingers in your hair, she feels at home in your bed, with you and only you.

"Yeah Harley, and you're mine."

#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #harley quinzel #harley quinn smut #harley quinn x reader #dc fanfic #dc smut #harleen quinzel x reader #dc x reader #villain smut #wlw #wlw nsft #sapphic #wlw writing #sapphic writing

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undying-love · 6 months ago

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Paul's fascination with John's glasses: A compilation

"John was a great character. A very different kind of guy to the other boys I knew. We met at the village fete. He was playing with his band. He was a year and a half older than me and my first friend who wore glasses. He was always taking them off and polishing them. I found it fascinating."

“John had these horn-rimmed glasses at the time and if ever there would be a girl coming round John would whip his glasses off and put them in his pocket and squint as she went by. And I would say, you look pretty good, the glasses are good. But when Buddy came along the glasses stayed on."

"I love just looking at old pictures of the guys, for example, ones of John with his glasses; obviously it's hugely sad, because I miss him so much."

"When me and Elvis Costello came together...there were similarities between him and John. They both got specs. People with glasses got a different sort of attitude to the world, I think. They could be a little more introverted...a litttle more of a pussycat on the inside and more aggressive on the outside. Which John was, and I think Elvis is a little bit. I like that in people."

"Whenever I see John with these sorts of glasses, it reminds me of the way he would take them off when there were girls around. For some reason people think they look better without their glasses! And now, whenever other people do that it always reminds me of John. I'd be chatting with him, or writing a song, and he would take his glasses off and clean them. And because nobody in my family had glasses, I'd never seen someone just chatting and absent-mindedly cleaning them."

"But it’s exciting for me to go back in time and just… because I took the pictures it’s like I’m there. I know it’s a slightly obvious thing to say but it just reminds me of John with his shades and his guitar.”

"And I would often sketch John when we worked together, often without him knowing it. It was so easy doing John because he had glasses, those sideboards...and that long, aquiline nose."

#mclennon #beatles #oh paul #compilation #John's glasses #i dont blame you Paul

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reidmarieprentiss · 6 months ago

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Bridges to Belonging

Part One Part Two Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Penelope texts Y/n, Rossi has a dinner party, Y/n and Spencer meet

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings/Includes: mentions of virginity and sex (16+), playing never have I ever, teasing from friends, consuming alcohol

Word count: 3.7k

a/n: i am cranking this story out it is going to be finished so fast dear goddd ,, hopefully y'all like it!!! probably like 5 ish more parts is my guess

main masterlist

Y/n was settling in for the night after a long shift at the hospital, kicking her feet up on her coffee table with a glass of wine in hand when her usually dead phone vibrated.

Hey, Y/N! 😊 It's Penelope from the BAU. Hope you don't mind me texting! Just thought I'd check in and see how my favorite child psychologist is doing. 🌟

Hey, Penelope! Of course, I don't mind :) I’m doing well, just busy with work as usual. How about you?

Busy saving the world, one computer at a time! 🖥️💪 So, tell me, are you still too busy to date, or have you finally joined us mere mortals in the quest for love? 💘

Haha I guess we’re getting right into it. I suppose I am feeling ready to dip my toes back into the dating pool. But I’ve been avoiding it for a while 😅 Awkward first dates are terrifying!

Ooh, exciting! 🥳 But I totally get the fear. Blind dates can be the worst. You never know if you're going to meet Prince Charming or... well, not. 😬

Exactly! And I've been so focused on my career that I haven't really thought about dating in a while. Plus, all my undergrad flings made me a bit wary of anything serious.

Understandable. Sometimes you just need to have fun, right? But now that you’re settled, maybe it’s time for a change? 😉

Yeah, maybe you're right. I wouldn't mind meeting someone who shares my interests and gets my sense of humor.

OMG, that sounds like a dream. Let me know when you find them and send me one too. 💖

Ha! If I find one I will let you know. How does one even go about meeting new people nowadays?

Well… You remember Rossi, right? He’s having a pasta and wine night at his mansion this Friday at 8 pm!! 🎉

Pasta and wine?? Sounds perfect. Thanks, Penelope! I’ll be there, I appreciate you thinking of me :)

Anytime, Y/N! Can’t wait for you to meet the rest of the team. I’ve got a good feeling about this! 💖✨

—

The rest of the team? Y/n thought to herself. She had assumed she met everyone already when she went for drinks with Aaron and the team. Maybe they added a new member. Regardless, she's excited to do three of her favorite things, eat pasta, drink wine, and let rich people pay for everything.

—

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over David Rossi’s expansive estate. Nestled in the Virginia countryside, the elegant home exuded both charm and sophistication, a perfect reflection of its owner. The team arrived one by one, greeted by the welcoming scent of freshly baked bread and simmering marinara sauce that wafted through the air, promising a feast of Italian delights.

As Y/n stepped into the house, they were embraced by the warm ambiance of the living room, where a crackling fire in the stone fireplace added a cozy touch. The room was tastefully decorated with leather-bound books, framed photographs, and art pieces that told stories of Rossi’s travels and experiences. Soft jazz music played in the background, the soothing melodies mingling with the lively chatter of the guests.

The dining room was a vision of elegance, with a long mahogany table set for the evening's festivities. Flickering candlelight danced across the table, casting a gentle glow on the polished silverware and delicate china. Each place setting was thoughtfully arranged, complete with fine crystal wine glasses waiting to be filled with Rossi’s carefully curated selection of wines.

On the far side of the room, a sideboard displayed an array of antipasti: olives, cured meats, marinated vegetables, and various cheeses artfully arranged on rustic wooden boards. A large bouquet of fresh flowers served as the centerpiece, adding a splash of color and vibrancy to the room.

The kitchen bustled with activity as Rossi, ever the gracious host, put the finishing touches on a variety of homemade pasta dishes. Large pots simmered on the stove, the fragrant aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. A pan of lasagna bubbled in the oven, its cheese topping perfectly golden brown. Fresh basil and parsley were sprinkled generously over platters of spaghetti aglio e olio and creamy fettuccine alfredo, each dish a testament to Rossi’s culinary skills and passion for Italian cuisine.

In the adjoining patio, strings of fairy lights twinkled overhead, providing a magical canopy under which the team could relax and unwind. Comfortable seating areas were arranged to encourage conversation, and a small fire pit offered warmth as the evening grew cooler. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets added a serene backdrop to the lively gathering.

The evening at Rossi’s house was in full swing. The room was alive with laughter and conversation, and the clinking of glasses mingled with the soft strains of jazz music. The warm glow from the fireplace and the dim lighting created a cozy, inviting atmosphere that wrapped the team in a sense of comfort and camaraderie.

As the doorbell rang, David straightened his jacket and moved toward the entrance with a welcoming smile. He opened the door to reveal Y/N, who stood on the threshold, looking radiant in her deep green dress that highlighted her curves and complemented her confident demeanor.

“Y/N! Welcome!” Rossi exclaimed, stepping aside to usher her into the house. His voice was warm and genuine, filled with the kind of hospitality that made his guests feel immediately at home. “I’m so glad you could make it. We’ve been looking forward to this evening.”

Y/N’s face brightened with a warm smile as she stepped inside. “Thank you, David. I’m excited to be here. The house looks wonderful.”

Rossi gave a hearty laugh. “It’s all thanks to the amazing team I have. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

With a graceful wave of his hand, Rossi guided Y/N into the living room, where the BAU team had gathered. The room buzzed with the energy of friends reconnecting after a long day. Rossi’s arrival with Y/N caught the attention of the group, and they turned to greet her with friendly smiles and nods.

Spencer, who had been deep in a conversation with Derek about a recent case, felt a shift in the atmosphere. His gaze followed Rossi and Y/N as they entered, his attention abruptly captured.

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly as he took in Y/N’s presence. The warm lighting seemed to highlight her natural beauty, and the graceful way she moved across the room was both captivating and disorienting. The rest of the team offered her friendly waves and greetings, but Spencer was fixated on her, his curiosity piqued.

Hotch, noticing Spencer’s focused attention, decided it was time for introductions. He approached Spencer with a friendly, knowing smile and gestured toward Y/N.

“Spencer,” Hotch began, his tone calm and reassuring, “I’d like you to meet Y/N.”

Spencer turned to face Hotch, his heart racing a bit. Hotch continued, “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid. He’s one of our most brilliant team members here at the BAU.”

Y/N extended her hand with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hi, Spencer. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

God, even her voice is beautiful.

Spencer, momentarily taken aback, felt a flutter of nerves as he took her hand. “Hi, Y/N. It’s, uh, nice to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you as well,” he replied, his voice tinged with both shyness and genuine interest.

Y/N’s gaze was kind and her smile reassuring, making Spencer feel more at ease. “I hope it’s all been good,” she said with a playful glint in her eye.

Spencer managed a small, tight lipped smile, as he tucked his hair behind one ear and his nerves started to settle. “Definitely,” he replied, feeling a warmth that contrasted with his usual social anxiety.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her eyes meeting Spencer’s with a genuine curiosity. “So, Spencer,” she began, her tone light and engaging, “what’s one thing you’re passionate about outside of work?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up as he considered her question. “Well, I’m really into chess,” he admitted. “I’ve been playing since I was a kid. It’s a great way to exercise the mind and challenge myself.”

Y/N’s smile widened. “I didn’t know that. I used to play chess with my grandfather when I was younger. It’s a fascinating game. Do you have a favorite opening strategy?”

Spencer’s face brightened, and he leaned in a bit more, his enthusiasm evident. “Yes! I’m a big fan of the Queen’s Gambit. It’s a classic and very versatile. What about you?”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she shared her own chess experiences. The conversation continued, the two finding common ground and enjoying each other’s company.

Hotch observed the interaction with a pleased expression, satisfied with the introduction. He stepped back, allowing Spencer and Y/N to continue their conversation. The team resumed their chatter, though the undercurrent of excitement about the new connection was palpable.

The evening had progressed into a more relaxed phase as the team retreated to Rossi’s lush backyard. The gentle clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation blended with the soft rustling of leaves in the warm night breeze. The group had moved outside after enjoying a sumptuous Italian feast prepared by Rossi and Penelope, and now they were settling into comfortable chairs and sofas, each with a glass of wine in hand.

Spencer, still a bit on edge but feeling slightly more at ease, had decided to join in on the wine, especially since Y/N had done the same. The rich, full-bodied wine paired perfectly with the after-dinner atmosphere, adding to the relaxed ambiance of the evening.

Derek, always the instigator of fun, leaned back in his chair with a mischievous grin. “Alright, everyone, I think it’s time for a game. How about a round of ‘Never Have I Ever’?” He looked around the circle with a gleam in his eye, clearly excited about the prospect of the game.

Emily raised an eyebrow playfully. “Oh, this should be interesting. Let’s see who’s willing to spill some secrets tonight.”

Y/N looked intrigued but a bit hesitant. “Sounds fun. I’m game.”

The group settled into a comfortable rhythm as Derek began the game. “Okay, I’ll start. Never have I ever... gone skydiving.”

A few people sipped their wine, including Emily and Rossi. “Guilty as charged,” Rossi said with a chuckle. “Skydiving is quite the adrenaline rush.”

Y/N, who had taken a sip, smiled and said, “I’ve always wanted to try it, but never had the chance.”

Spencer, still holding his glass, observed the interactions with a mix of curiosity and caution. He had never played this game before, not having ever been invited to parties in high school or college, and while he was intrigued, he wasn’t sure how much he was ready to reveal about himself.

JJ leaned forward, looking at Y/N with a grin. “Okay, your turn. What’s something we’d never expect from you?”

Y/N thought for a moment, then laughed softly. “Alright, never have I ever... been to a strip club.”

This time, the whole team, including Penelope, sipped their wine. “Oh, I mean we all have been on multiple occasions for a case,” Penelope admitted with a grin. “It’s a rite of passage.”

Spencer watched Y/N closely, noticing how easily she blended with the group, her laughter and easy demeanor making her approachable. He found himself feeling more comfortable, the game serving as a welcome distraction from his usual reservations.

As the game continued, Derek took his turn. “Never have I ever... gone on a blind date.”

Spencer, who had been carefully sipping his wine, hesitated for a moment before taking a sip. He caught Y/N’s eye and saw her smile warmly. “Well, that’s a new one for me,” she said, clearly amused.

Hotch, enjoying the playful banter, decided to chime in. “I think it’s safe to say that a lot of us have had some interesting experiences with blind dates.”

The game continued with a mix of laughter, surprises, and the occasional sip of wine. As it came around to Spencer’s turn, he took a deep breath, deciding to take a small risk. “Never have I ever... read all the books in a series before the final book was released.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, and she laughed. “Oh, I’m guilty of that too. I get too impatient for the next installment.”

Spencer felt a small spark of connection, his nerves easing as he realized they shared a common interest. “It’s the only way to avoid spoilers,” he said with a smile.

The conversation flowed easily as the game progressed, with everyone sharing stories and bonding over their revelations. Spencer found himself more relaxed, the warmth of the wine and the easygoing nature of the game creating an environment where he could be himself.

The group settled into their seats even more lubricated with wine, ready for the real revelations. Derek went first, his tone playful. “Never have I ever... been to a nightclub and partied until dawn.”

Y/N, Emily, Penelope and Derek took a sip, with Emily laughing. “Oh, I’ve done that more times than I can count. Nothing like a night out on the town to blow off some steam.”

Spencer seemed slightly more at ease with each revelation. “I’ve never been to one of those. It sounds like an experience.”

The game continued with more revealing questions. Emily, with a mischievous glint in her eye, asked, “Never have I ever... had a one-night stand.”

Spencer was visibly surprised when Y/N took a sip. Y/N gave a small, slightly embarrassed smile. “It’s a part of life’s experiences, but I guess I’ve been more focused on my career lately.”

Spencer nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. He was keenly aware of the fact that he was still a virgin, and while he wanted to connect with Y/N on a deeper level, he found himself struggling. She had undoubtedly had more romantic and physical experiences than he had. The thought that someone as stunning and sophisticated as Y/N would be interested in a novice like him seemed almost inconceivable. He was trying hard not to let his insecurities cloud his mood. The way she smelled—like a wet dream—was both intoxicating and overwhelming. Her laughter, so genuine and carefree, only accentuated the gulf between them. Spencer tried to shake off the discomfort, reminding himself to stay engaged.

Derek, sensing the shift in the conversation and relishing the opportunity to provoke more personal revelations, threw out another provocative prompt. “Never have I ever... gone on a vacation just for the sake of hooking up with someone.”

Penelope and Emily took a sip, with Penelope letting out a soft laugh. “Sometimes you just need to get away and see where the night takes you,” she said, a playful glint in her eye.

Y/N, now visibly more at ease and enjoying the shared camaraderie, leaned in slightly, her voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ve always found travel is more about the sights than the romance. But I suppose the adventure can include a little... spontaneous connection,” she said, letting her words linger with a hint of allure. Her gaze flicked towards Spencer briefly, a subtle challenge in her eyes.

Spencer felt a slight flush creeping up his neck as he realized Y/N’s playful comment was not lost on him. The conversation had taken a decidedly more personal turn. “I’ve never really mixed vacation with... personal pursuits,” he admitted, his tone tinged with shyness. The idea of combining travel with romantic endeavors seemed foreign and somewhat intimidating.

As the game continued, the topics grew more intense and revealing. Rossi, with a knowing smile and a glint of mischief, asked, “Never have I ever... been in a relationship where both partners had different kinks.”

Everyone, even Hotch, took a sip, with Rossi adding, “Sometimes those differences can make things... particularly exciting.”

Y/N, engaging more openly with the group, nodded thoughtfully. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “It’s definitely something that can add a layer of complexity to a relationship,” she said, her voice taking on a more intimate tone. “It’s all about finding that balance and exploring what truly works for both partners.”

Spencer, taking a sip and feeling the warmth of the wine begin to loosen his nerves, found himself caught between curiosity and shyness. “It sounds like navigating those differences can be... challenging,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze remained fixed on Y/N, trying to read the subtle nuances in her expressions. The vulnerability she displayed in her words made her even more intriguing.

Y/N’s smile widened slightly, a mix of empathy and flirtation in her gaze. “It can be, but it’s also part of what makes relationships interesting,” she said, her voice soft but laced with a suggestive undertone. She met Spencer’s eyes with a confident yet gentle look, as if inviting him to share more of his thoughts.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling a blend of attraction and apprehension. The way Y/N spoke, her casual yet intimate revelations, made him want to know more about her and, perhaps, reveal more about himself. The game had opened a door to a new level of connection, one that both excited and intimidated him.

The night had drifted into a mellow haze as the stars began to twinkle in the sky. The soft hum of conversation and clinking of glasses had subsided into a relaxed murmur as the team lingered in Rossi’s backyard, enjoying the cool night air. The rich aroma of the evening’s wine lingered in the air, adding a heady undertone to the tranquil setting.

Spencer had been engaged in a conversation with Rossi, but his mind kept drifting back to the playful exchanges he’d shared with Y/N. She had been captivating throughout the evening, her laughter and teasing remarks sticking in his mind. He found himself drawn to her energy, even as he struggled with his own insecurities.

As the night wore on, guests began to trickle out, and the ambiance of the backyard shifted to a quieter, more intimate atmosphere. Spencer watched as Y/N, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of the wine, made her way towards him. Her movements were graceful, and there was a certain confident allure in her stride that made Spencer’s heart skip a beat.

Y/N approached Spencer with a mix of determination and vulnerability. She cleared her throat gently, her eyes locking with his in a gaze that was both direct and inviting. The faint glow from the string lights above cast a warm halo around her, highlighting her striking features and the subtle sheen of her skin.

“Hey, Spencer,” she said, her voice soft but laden with an undeniable edge of sincerity. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Spencer, caught off guard, nodded. “Of course, Y/N. What’s up?”

Y/N led him a little away from the remaining guests, her hand brushing lightly against his as she guided him to a more secluded corner of the backyard. Spencer found he didn’t mind the contact too much, he might still wash his hands after. The quiet of the night enveloped them, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

She took a deep breath, her eyes searching his with a mix of hesitation and resolve. “I’ve really enjoyed talking with you tonight,” she began, her voice a touch more vulnerable than usual. “And I have to admit, I’ve been thinking... I’d like to see you again. Maybe for a coffee or dinner sometime? I’d love to get to know you better.”

Spencer’s heart raced as he took in her words. He felt a rush of warmth at the idea of spending more time with her, but the reality of his inexperience and his nerves threatened to overwhelm him. He managed a small, nervous smile, his mind racing through a whirlwind of thoughts.

“I’d like that,” Spencer said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’d really like that. I... I didn’t expect this, but I’m glad you asked.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his arm, her fingers lingering for a moment. “Good,” she said, her tone taking on a more intimate quality.

Spencer felt a surge of excitement mixed with his usual apprehension. The way Y/N looked at him, with that blend of confidence and genuine interest, made him feel like he was worthy of her attention.

“Absolutely,” he said, feeling more confident. “Let’s definitely make plans. I’d like that very much.”

Y/N’s smile widened, a mix of relief and satisfaction crossing her face. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”

With that, she gave him a warm, lingering smile and a light touch on his arm before heading back towards the group to say her goodbyes. Spencer watched her go, with a brand new phone number in his pocket, feeling a renewed sense of hope and excitement. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, and he couldn’t wait to see where this new connection with Y/N might lead.

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