#most of what i thought about was either there is one good small part or was made in a latino country
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One percent .ᐟ
“𝜗𝜚 ﹐, ; ⟡”
Note: i totally think Ran would tease Rindou for being gay but would be super supportive tew.
P.S: Brat reader ,, Fluff to Smut ,, brat tamer rindou ,, reader has a big butt ,, reader wears only lip gloss.. retouches it a lot. ,, reader wears short-shorts ,, you two get caught ,, rindou honestly rly horny n eyes you 50% of the time ,, reader doesn’t cum
﹒ ◠ ✩ ⊹ ﹒#1
Rindou loved women, he really did. Whenever Ran introduced you to him, he felt a new feeling. He felt the need to be pitch perfect, so Ran making small jokes about him in front of you only embarrassed him. Usually in would annoy him, but he wouldn’t mind it. Around you though? He just met you and he was already panicking. What was frustrating him the most is that he didn’t know why, no other guy had ever made his head spin like you.
Or any girl either really, i mean.. he was attracted to them.. he thought they were pretty. Sure, but.. you know maybe he just liked you because you sounded a lot like a woman! No you didn’t. You sounded like any regular guy, but you had a soft voice whenever you greeted him so was that really his fault!? It was your fault. Yeah, you had him under some sort of spell.. he slammed his head into his pillow. Screaming internally, and on the outside too apparently. Ran came into his room with a concerned and confused look on his face. He’d never seen his little brother like this.
The worst part is that Rindou didn’t even know your name because he was so distracted on well.. you.
“Rindou what the hell is wrong with you.” Ran looked at the stressed out and frustrated Rindou who was sitting on a messy bed. “Nothing.” Rindou snapped back quickly, dismissing the question and hopefully the topic. “Clearly there’s something going on, tell me.” the blond and blue swirly boy just sighed. He looked at his brother, with a blank face. No expression.
“I think i’m into your friend.” Ran was lost, still. Not like he was the brightest anyways, but he was still lost none the less. “who? I haven’t introduced you to any chicks. Most of the Chicks I hang out with are hook ups.” Rindou groaned and threw his head back along with his body back on his bed. “that’s the problem.” Ran made a shocked face “you wanna go out with one of my hook up girls!?” Rindou shook his head.
“I’m into one of your guy friends.” Rindou said under his breath “that’s pretty gay dude.” Ran said with a straight face , obviously teasing Rindou. “Shut up! If you’re not gonna help get out.” the older Haitani laughed to himself and then looked back at Rindou , turning on what he called his ‘older brother mode’. “if you actually like the dude , i’ll help you out. But he isn’t any low maintenance boy, he’s a brat.” Rindou looked a little shocked at this new informatio n, you were so nice.. at least when you were greeting him.
“but don’t mess around this guy’s feelings, that’s my guy.” Rindou swore this was the first time he ever heard Ran consider someone’s feelings— you two must be close. “alright , alright.. but I wanna see him again.. haven’t met him for that long but man i miss him.” Ran laughed at Rindou’s words, already so love struck. sure he was willing to let his little brother have his shot, but damn Rindou was head over heels for you. “You’re already M/N’s type, close enough anyways. You have a good shot.. i’ll bring him around tomorrow.” Ran never saw Rindou’s face light up any quicker
﹒ ◠ ✩ ⊹ ﹒#2
Rindou was pacing around his room panicking, Ran said he was bringing you over. He was gonna ‘leave unexpectedly’ and let you two be alone and get to know each other for a few. If it went wrong, he’d give Ran a quick text message of the cheese emoji with a flamingo top hat and magic wand next to it.. why? it was his favorite ‘underrated’ emojis according to him.
Finally, Ran finally brought you over. “Hey, M/N i’m gonna go get snacks from the convenience store real quick.” Rindou waited a minute and a few seconds just to come out after Ran left, to mentally prepare himself and so it wouldn’t look suspicious.
“oh you’re that guy from yesterday.” Rindou tried to act casual, but he was really helpless. You could tell. “Oh! Rindou?” you’re voice was as soft as he remembered it.. sweet. “yeah. i’m rindou.” you’re voice was so nice.. so were your lips. The smile they held up. Your lips looked like some sweet candy with the shiny coat of gloss on them. “it’s so nice to see you again.” Rindou couldn’t understand how the hell you were a brat according to Ran, hell he couldn’t understand how you and Ran were even friends in the first place.
Rindou sat down next to you, that’s when he noticed your shorts. Specifically how nicely they wrapped around your figure, so tightly and nicely fitted. “Ran left?” he already knew Ran left , and why. That’s the only reason he came out here.. the younger finally gaining back his confidence, a little at a time sure. “Oh yah, it was just to get snacks.” Rindou really hoped it didn’t look like he was staring.. but he was glancing over way too many times at your shorts.
He was sure they looked nicer from behind. “Ah, I see.” you looked down at the time, noticing your phone was at 1%. “oh shit.. hey, do you happen to have a charger?” Rindou nodded his head “let me see if I can find it.. I actually haven’t seen it around..” that’s bullshit. He just wanted to see if you would catch an attitude. You pouted, “you sure you can’t look?” that wasn’t that hard to do.. you’re tone already sounded annoyed. Different than your previous tone and attitude.
“sure, can you help me?” your quiet sighed and now slightly furrowed brows.. told him his answer “it’s fine, i’ll go get it myself.” he got up and went to his room, waiting a few seconds and ruffling in a drawer. All while his charger was plugged into an obvious out in the open plug. he came out empty handed, “sorry.. can’t find it.” you reapplied your lip gloss while he walked over, clearly annoyed as a consistent pout was laid on your face. One that you weren’t trying to hide.
“oh don’t put on a pout.” Rindou said with a clear smirk on his face, almost as clear as your obvious pouting.. he just found it so cute. “can’t be that hard to find a stupid charger.” you were already mad over something so small.. Ran wasn’t being his usual dramatic self , he figured it out quick. “come help me then instead of acting like that.” you rolled your eyes. “fine..” sighing over dramatically and standing up.
Shit..he was right, you looked wonderful from behind in your nice little shorts. emphasis on the little. Rindou led you to his room, both of you looking for the charger inside his left pocket. “ugh..” you groaned under your breath, both of you looking over and under every single thing in his room. For a stupid charger, Rindou turned around to the lovely site of you looking under neath his desk on all fours with your back arched so the drawers wouldn’t hit you.
“i’m tired of searching.” you got up, Rindou eyeing you while you did. Reaching into your bag you pulled out your lip gloss and reapplied it, quickly and annoyed. Rindou had to admit, he loved the way you looked but there was only so much attitude he could take, it was getting on his nerves.
“you grew an attitude quick.” he smirked at your face a annoyed scrunch that went back to normal after a few seconds, it honestly surprised him how you were able to act like this in just a couple of minutes of talking to Rindou. “my phones about to die on 1%!” you complained in an almost child like voice, an annoying grating one. All he could focus on was how your ass looked in those shorts every-time you turned around. Dont get him wrong, he’s still head over heels for you but that’s an added bonus..
﹒ ◠ ✩ ⊹ ﹒#3 NSFW up ahead, MDNI.
maybe that’s what ended with your poor hole being abused while a charger was throw in front of your figure bent over Rin’s bead, his huge cock thrusting back and forth into you. Your lip gloss all smudged from the makeout session before this. “ri..rinn.. s’tmuch..” you sobbed out, already fucked out beyond comprehension on his fat cock. “charger don’t matter than fucking much anymore? My cocks the only thing charging you up.” tears rolled down your face and you felt an orgasm coming up.
Rindou could also tell you were close too apparently, he pulled out of your velvety and spongy walls.. your soft whimpers stopped, now becoming whinny bitchy complaining, like he called it “noo.. nooo!!!” you pouted, instinctively grinding back on Rindou only to get slapped on the ass harshly.
“mmnfhh..” your tears rolled down your face, all that bratty attitude from before, gone. Your orgasm had been denied, you weren’t getting your way and it was pissing you off. “geez even during sex you’re acting like a whiny little bitch” he dropped you down to your knees lining your mouth up to the tip of his cock. “if you suck me off good enough i’ll let you borrow my charger.” you whined and nodded your head opening your mouth more his cock to slide into while you liked the tip, shit so good he barely even noticed the text messages from Ran.. it had been almost an hour. Of course he was coming home.
“oh fuck..’!” you had already shoved his entire length down your throat, he could deal with the bitchiness if this was the type of treatment he would get. Hollowing your cheeks on his cock , he gripped onto your hair bobbing your hair up and down. Fucking into your throat like a flesh light.
Ran’s bad habit of not knocking really should stop after walking into scenes like this, it never will. “oh shit.” he knew you weren’t one to let a guy you liked slip by you, but this quick? Hell Rindou doing this without there even being a first date?? Ran slammed the door shut, both of you getting scared .. that had to of done something to Rindou. He came in your mouth without warning, maybe that or the fact you reached his sweet spot.. the back of your throat hit the tip of his dick and it really hit. You to his surprise swallowed all his cum, not a drop out. Geez Rindou knew you weren’t a virgin, but you were starting to seem liked an out right whore.
“n..not fair.. i didn’t get to cum..” your voice sounded desperate. “no that’s your punishment for acting like a brat over a charger.” you whined only to get a hair pull “clean up.. i’ll help you..”
﹒ ◠ ✩ ⊹ ﹒#4
ran decided to let you two have a minute or two, incase you were really enjoying yourselves. Both of you came out of the room, a walk of shame for both of you infront of ran. “i was only gone for 40 minutes.. you two really couldn’t help each other huh?” your face was like a red tomato, not that Rindou was any better. He wasn’t even looking Ran in the eyes.
you were still so hot and bothered you couldn’t muster a word, Rindou didn’t even let you keep your boxers. You were praying nobody noticed you were commando. “you two got a thing now? or is it a one time thing.” Ran laughed to himself and then smiled, it was only funny to him really. But you two did need to figure that out eventually..
#tokyo revengers#male reader#x male reader#tokyo revengers x male reader#rindou x male#tr rindou#tokrev rindou#rindou x you#tokyo revengers rindou#rindou haitani#rindou x y/n#rindou x reader#rindou smut#tenjiku#tenjiku rindou#ran haitani#ran x male reader#ran x male#ran tokyo revengers#ran tr
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I've been meaning to write for Sugar Daddy!Price, so here it is. This is me caving into my personal desires.
Minors and Ageless Blogs Do Not Interact!! While this post is SFW, my blog isn't!!
Perhaps you're in need of more money because of your student debt, your inflated rent, or simply because you want to live a more lavish lifestyle. Either way, you find yourself one of those sugar baby websites, putting yourself out there for all potential sugar daddies to see.
It took you a few failed sugar daddies, who only wanted you for sex, to find John Price. He was a military man, which made you wary, but he seemed really sweet in his chats with you and the real kicker?
He didn't want you to have sex with him.
So despite your initial hesitance, you took up John's offer of going out to dinner with him to sort out all of the details of your arrangement. You put on the fanciest suit you owned, leaving the house and getting into the very nice car that John sent over to pick you up.
When you got to the restaurant, which was indeed as fancy as you thought it'd be, John was there to greet you. He hadn't set gotten seated at the table, leading to him gently guiding you as you two followed the waiter to your table.
The hand he placed at the small of your back warmed you through your clothes, as if it was touching bare skin. His pressure was firm, but not too firm to feel as though he was the only one driving your footsteps forward. It was more protective than commanding.
"Here, let me get that for you," John murmured as he went to pull out your chair for you. Despite you both being men, he clearly seemed to still want to be a gentleman, pushing your chair in when you sat down.
He ordered the drinks, giving you the option of an alcoholic drink or a non-alcoholic one. As the waiter left you two to go over the menu after giving you your drinks, you found it was the perfect time to start the conversation.
You worried your lip briefly before speaking. "So you said you're not looking for sex, but what are you looking for?" you asked, curiosity dripping in your voice. "What does being your sugar baby entail?"
John smiled at your question, leaning back in his seat to look at you fully. "It doesn't entail much, I'm away on deployments most of the time. I just want someone to take out on dates and to be in my presence when I am home from deployments," he answered, blunt to the point where you were surprised by his honesty. "I don't expect you to only have one sugar daddy or even not have a boyfriend, though I will still pay you even if I'm on deployments, I just ask to have your attention when I am home."
"Too busy to date?" you teased, relishing in the way your comment made a mischievous glint sparkle in Price's blue eyes.
"I am too busy to date and most people don't want a partner who's away for months on end." John swiped a drop of wine off his bottom lip before it could fall, your eyes instinctively tracking the movement. He then refocused on you. "Sugar babies are much easier in that respect, I don't have to worry about someone not liking waiting for me because they're getting paid."
You took in his words, mulling it over in your mind as the waiter came back, taking your orders. You then glanced up at John, taking in his handsome features and the offer he was giving you.
It was so nice to know that even when he was going to be deployed, he'd still be sending you money. Part of you felt like you were cheating him out of a good service, but the part of you that craved the money couldn't care. He clearly didn't.
As the food arrived, you two continued to sort out everything, John writing things down for when he'd draw up a contract for you two to sign. The rest of the dinner went well and since he was paying you for this dinner, you offered to come back to his place despite the fact that there was no contract yet.
John thought it over a while before shaking his head and gently turning you down, kissing your forehead and placing you in the car. He bid you goodbye before closing the door, signaling to the chauffeur to drive you back home.
You had a feeling being John's sugar baby would be interesting to say the least.
Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)
#john price#captain john price#captain price#price cod#john price x male reader#john price x reader#captain john price x male reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x male reader#captain price x reader#price x male reader#price x reader#cod x male reader#x male reader#sugar daddy!price#I didn't really know how to end this#this is just the beginning of this series#:)
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"who asked first" with the yellowjackets
yay! I'm back!
the decision to open a new blog just for yellowjackets wasn't easy at all, but since it's been a year since this obsession has barely gone away and I already had an extremely confusing blog with layouts and the like, I wanted to start over with this one.
hope you like it.
I'll make a very simple and small prompt first, and then I'll make the masterlist and the oneshots/fanfics.
stay tuned!
sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!
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who asked first with the yellowjackets girls...
jackie taylor.
well, if we're going to be honest here, you definitely asked first.
of course, jackie had already been rehearsing for weeks how he would ask you out. but she's obviously a girlfaillure, so you definitely asked first.
it was probably when she least expected it. it could be at soccer practice, or when you were coming home from school together and you had the audacity to ask her to go out with her to some hypothetical and boring place in the middle of the street… whatever.
all I know is that this little loser was eager for you to ask, and she definitely rolled out the classic, "took you too long…"
shauna shipman.
again, you asked first.
shauna doesn't have the social tact to ask you out (she's just like me), and drunk is even worse, so you actually had to make the first move most of the time.
just like jackie, it could have been when she was at soccer practice, or when she was alone enough to vent to her journal and you were able to get close to her without scaring her. anyway, the thing is, shauna was already secretly expecting this to happen (a lot of her journal pages were about you btw), so it wasn't a surprise either when you asked her out.
despite everything, you didn't have any difficulties on your first date. she's pleasant company, I suppose.
natalie scatorccio.
one of the rare exceptions where she asked first.
okay, don't be fooled, either. natalie is very cocky from time to time, but asking to go out with you is definitely one of the times she tends to weaken. so, kevyn probably dared her to do it and she just took advantage of her cooler personality to use it on you.
but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. in fact, it's kind of a good thing (and probably depressing for her) because she only felt like herself when she asked you. I see in nat a huge tendency to ignore some of her feelings, especially when it comes to people she likes.
the invitation was probably also full of teasing on her part, from body language to the words used for it. and somehow she made it look cool and convinced you to accept it.
things that only natalie scatorccio could do.
lottie matthews.
for some reason, I'm 100% sure you asked first.
I know many of us think of lottie as a completely carefree, liberal and often bitchy enough person to ask someone out on a date. but, if we count the pre-crash, I think she was a very insecure person and uncertain of her feelings, more due to the influence of the pills.
so, as incredible as it sounds, you asked first. it was in an extremely relaxed conversation between you that the invitation ended up unintentionally, and she was visibly panicked when she agreed.
lottie is probably the type of person who has a rehearsed speech in front of the mirror while getting ready, and with her enviable style and expensive clothes (some stolen), she would do anything to make your date the perfect date.
taissa turner.
she asked first.
taissa is confident enough to ask you out, I have no doubt about that. but she definitely spent weeks planning the perfect invitation, just in case everything went wrong and she needed to run (just like what happened when she thought about breaking allie's leg before nationals).
anyway, taissa would certainly ask first and it would be quite a surprise for you. taking into account that, from the moment you accepted, you would discover that van also knew about her friend's ideas, and later that half of the team also knew. it would be a shock because you wouldn't understand tai's intentions at first.
but none of them are necessarily bad. one, is that tai was really excited if you accepted, and her anxiety couldn't stop her from wanting to tell the world. two, because she was overly excited that you had agreed to go out with her, and wanted the world to know it as well.
van palmer.
as much as I would really like to prove otherwise, you asked first.
van has the same problem as lottie, but in her case, it's excessively because of the sarcasm jokes and high charisma. she thinks she's being too much for you and that asking for something like that on this level would end up scaring you away.
in the end, it's totally the opposite, but it's going to take van a long time to figure that out, specifically. the invitation would happen when she least expected it, probably when you were feeling confident enough to pass notes to her during classes.
it's a cute invitation, and one that van would hold in question for a long, long time.
misty quigley.
there would be no other answer. she asked first.
misty has no shame in admitting that she has a crush on you. and of course, to ask you out on a date, this shame decreases even more. she doesn't even care if she will be made fun of by her colleagues, what really matters is that she planned everything for you to accept.
and when I say everything, it really means everything.
from the moment she will slide up to your table and quietly ask if you accept, to the tone of voice she will use to persuade your brain to accept, to the place she will take you hand in hand and then let it slide. … she literally thought of every detail.
And, well, knowing misty quigley's ability to create plans, the whole thing worked out… until you figured it all out and admitted that you liked it even more, much to her surprise.
laura lee.
you asked first, of course. there would be no other answer either.
of course, not ruling out the possibility of laura lee asking first, given her hidden impulsive personality, but, in this case, taking the obviousness into account, you asked, and had to be careful with every line said in the invitation.
of course, it needed to be at a time when you were alone, because you were afraid that pressure from other people would make you feel suffocated. this, of course, did not happen. she thought it was a classic weekend outing, like you guys usually did, until she realized your real intentions.
and, truly, at no point did it make her feel restrained or scared. she was ready to be vulnerable and be herself around you, no matter what.
(but, if you casually ask lottie at some point, she will definitely claim that she saw laura lee rehearsing some speeches and compliments for you in the locker room mirror…)
#yellowjackets#yellowjackets x reader#lgbt#romance#preference#prompt#jackie taylor x reader#shauna shipman x reader#van palmer x reader#laura lee x reader#lottie matthews x reader#taissa turner x reader#natalie scatorccio x reader#misty quigley x reader
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I know he was sedated, but to me he died right then. Because that's not what he looks like when he's asleep.
#had to put my cat down earlier today#having a lot of thoughts and feelings about it as youd expect#hated that i didnt get to be there for his actual death because his veins were too small for the catheter thing so they had to use a kidney#stick and didnt want us back there#so they sedated him and then took him back#hated that. not their fault but hated it#hated that my mom kept trying to reassure herself he had a good life#i think my problem was actually that she kept doingnit outloud#who am i to judge how someone greives but who are you to impair my own process etc#if im to make compromise why are you not to do the same#i didnt like that he was cold. that was part of the issue his blood pressure was so low#his little paws ans ears were cold#he can die if he needs to but i dont want him to be cold like what a fucking#what a fucking#i dont know. how terrible to be uncomfortable while youre saying goodbye#i spent most of the day chasing sunbeams so that he could lay in my lap and be warm because my body temp wasnt enough to warm him up#and when they sedated him they just had him laying on his stomach and one of his paws was out in a way i knew he would have adjusted and his#tail was hanging off the table and he wouldnt have liked that either and it just made me so mad#because hes not comfortable and no one fixed it and#two very small things but thats whats sticking with me right now#im angry its winter and he was cold and he was sleeping uncomfortably#im not angry he died. im sad but he was 18 years old#and thats not really anyones fault#especially not his#my speaking tag#i think ppl generally tag stuff like this 'delete later' but i hate deleting things so uh#woe. cat feelings be upon ye#also am i well adjusted or am i repressing OR secret third option am i autistic#questions the world will never have an answer to.
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𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝
You and Spencer finally find time for your first time. 6k
fem, afab!reader, mostly confident!reader, foreplay, oral sex, p in v sex, lovey dovey tender loser sex, established relationship, pet names, aftercare, requested here <3
cw for smut, minors do not read or interact, 18+ content
˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗
“Can you stay still?”
“No,” you answer honestly.
Spencer climbs further toward you on the bed. “I’m trying to help. You’re no good at buttons.”
You’re no good at buttons because your fingers shake whenever you and Spencer get close like this, and with these intentions. You’d always thought he’d be the shy one —sometimes you take his hand in the back of the work car to watch his cheeks go a rosy, unignorable pink. He’s the more introverted of the two of you and he always has been, so why does his touch have you trembling already?
Excitement, you decide, heart in your mouth as his fingers begin to pop your buttons through each matching slit. This is exactly what happened last time you and Spencer tried (and were sorely interrupted). You’d been out of breath and in his lap, too excited to see to his buttons, too busy kissing him to take much notice as he’d taken care of them himself. And then work called, your plans were cancelled, and he’d promised you that you’d get to do this soon.
“I’m good at buttons,” you deny, leaning back on the palms of your hands as his pinky’s brush up, the sides of your shirt falling open.
“Oh, you’re back,” he says. He’s teasing in bed. You aren’t expecting it. “You went somewhere else for a few seconds, you okay?” That’s less teasing, more sweet.
His hands pause just under where your bra begins.
You take a breath. “I’m okay, I’m thinking about last time.”
He leans in for a kiss, a quick but steady catching that has your face following him as he pulls away again, and undoes your next button. “Which part?”
The part where he’d insisted you’d be laying down for this. The memory alone inspires heat, pleasure and wanting from the depth of your chest, your stomach, ever lower.
“Did you lock your door?” you ask.
Your phones are off. The door is locked. Spencer promises as much in your ear as leans in closer to you, crawls that last few inches of space to have your legs tangled atop his white sheets, his hand disappearing under the open sides of your shirt. The other hand works the last few buttons, but you don’t get to watch him do it, distracted by his fingers hot on the small of your back and his lips as he pulls you in tight for another kiss.
This one’s slow. He holds you like he’s worried you’re gonna slip out of his arm where it curls behind you, cool air kissing your chest as he gets the last button by your neck and encourages either side away from you. You lean into him and shake your shirt down the lengths of your arms, finally shirtless in front of him again after days of trying. You try to keep up with his kissing, he’s intense, he’s everywhere, but you run out of breath.
“Oh,” you say uselessly, your cheek against his as he kisses your jaw.
“What, angel?” he asks, breath warm to your skin, “What’s up?”
“Nothing… I wore my nice bra for you.”
“You did?” He promptly pulls away. His face is pinking, but it’s so warm you can’t blame him for it. You’re sure he’d feel a furnace under your skin if he touched your forehead. Spencer’s gaze falls down to your chest, where it stays, his own rising and falling with a noticeable sharpness. “That’s pretty. You’re pretty.” He swallows as he looks up. “Your nice bra? Just one?”
You cover a breast with your hand and push it up ever so slightly. “This is the one I thought you’d like most. You like blue.”
“I love blue. I love you, I love you,” he says, leaning around you to move your discarded shirt to the floor. “Can I take it off?”
You nod with a stupid smile. Fond and too eager. “Please.”
“How many tries do I get?” he asks, grabbing your sides in two gentle hands, pulling you forward into a hug as he reaches behind you for the clasp.
“You can do it one,” you promise, voice a murmur now he’s close to you.
You let your hands rest on his hips as he pinches the clasp and pushes it together. Like magic, it comes apart. Spencer holds the unclasped sides to your naked back for a few seconds, his breath loud in your ear, before he sits back to look at you.
You push the straps of your bra down, let the support of your bra fall away. You ball it up in your lap, sitting there bare-chested and smiling, waiting, hoping you’re as beautiful to him as he’s always made you feel.
His hand climbs your arm. “You’re beautiful,” he says, “can I–”
“Yeah, please. Please.”
His thumb rubs a short line from your navel to the skin just below your breast. Your chest feels suddenly heavy, the half-lidded set of his eyes on you like a weight, but it’s one you realise you like as he rubs the indent of your bra. “You’re so pretty,” he says, his thumb pressing into the underside of your breast, kind but undeniably there, and your body reacts to his touch, which is another thing. He doesn’t coo, but it’s close. “How does that feel?” he asks quietly, drawing under your nipple with his thumb.
“Can you kiss me some more?” you ask, breathless in a way that’s almost painful.
Spencer clutches you by your sides, unafraid to play with you, pressing you down into the bed as his hands traverse up. You shuffle back into the pillows and let your eyes shutter closed, his nose pressing hard into yours as your lips meet again. He kisses hungrily. He’s treated you to a few heavy kisses in the past, nothing compares now to the open crescent of his lips and the feeling of his hands. His tongue is hot where it touches your lips, wading in. You sigh into his mouth and feel his own sigh in return as he breaks it.
“Fuck,” he says, his breath coloured by pleasure. He’s practically moaning in your ear as a big hand squeezes your chest.
You can’t take this. You lift your hips and graze against him, rushing to reach down and slip your skirt over the curve of your ass and over stocking clad thighs. You try to push them along at the same time, breathing hard.
Spencer notices what you’re doing and reaches to help.
“Your shirt,” you argue, faces close, his confusion an inch away, as are his pinked lips, “take your shirt off, Spencer, I can do this myself.”
“But why should you have to?” he says, though he listens, making quick work of his button up.
You kick your stockings off of your feet and lay there, warm, overwhelmed but desperate at once, watching him on his knees as he manages his last button and peels out of his shirt. You cross your legs tightly against the achy heat blooming in your cunt, uncharacteristically shy.
His chest is pale, without a freckle nor beauty mark, but he’s shapely. You've kissed him so much these last few months, traced the hills and rigid muscle of his front with an adoring hand under his clothes, but the two of you being similarly bared is different.
It’s worse when he reaches for the button of his slacks.
You bite your lip. “Spencer, can I do it?”
“Yeah.” He swallows again. “Of course you can. Don’t ask me.”
He’s getting warm, curls of his hair falling into his eyes, his breath a constant huff. The bulge of him through his slacks draws your attention. You crawl toward him where he’s kneeling, checking his face. When he nods, you rub the very pad of your thumb against the line of his cock, feel it jump at your touch. Your heart jumps in a similar place.
“This okay?” you whisper, your touch light enough that you’re surprised he can feel it.
“Please.” He says your name like you’ve hurt him. “Please. Take them off.”
“I can’t believe you’re like that just from kissing me,” you say sincerely, a mumble as you pop the button and dig your fingertip under the zipper, which you pull down in one smooth line. There’s an immediate release of pressure against his cock. You blink. It’s so warm in here. “Spence, can I–”
“Please.”
You nod to yourself and shift onto one elbow, shocked and even warmer when Spencer plumps a pillow behind you. Your anticipation is an ache that won’t ebb, hands trembling again as you pull the band of his pants down his hips and expose a pair of white and blue boxer briefs. A darkened patch of material rests against the tip of his cock, the curve of him ever harder as you touch him.
He sucks in air through his teeth.
“Aw, Spence,” you say, pressing the length of your thumb to his cock and breathing out as you ride the curve of him up to that wet spot. “Sweetheart… Does that feel good?”
He closes his hand on top of yours and holds you there. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.
“I think I gotta kiss you first,” you say, eyes on his straining boxers. “Think you might need one.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’ll ruin everything before we’ve even started, you can’t kiss me like that.”
“Are you sure? I can make sure you’re ready.”
You’d never force him into anything. You’re letting him know it’s alright. You’re not gonna push him over the edge before he’s done, you just wanna do all the stuff with him that you’ve been dreaming about for a while now. You have a feeling he might enjoy it.
“You can tell me to stop whenever you need me to,” you say softly, feeling his cock twitch in your hand at the mere sound of your voice. “I wanna see you.”
He laughs infectiously, almost drunkenly, the two of you giggling as he shifts your hands. He doesn’t say anything more, only moves your hands down over the softer base of his cock to encourage his pants out of the way, and then his boxers.
His cock is pretty like he is as he pulls it out. You knew it would be. A little taller than your hand, he tugs it toward his stomach and you watch in delight as a string of precum catches the light, wetting his palm.
You’re patient. He lets it stand without help and you curl your hand where his had been at the base, his cock shining in lines, that welling of precum spread messily around and worse when you give a soft pump. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, shuffling closer to you on his knees, his hand leaping to your shoulder. “Oh, god.”
You tilt your head. “How’s that, baby?”
“Please, angel.”
You lean in for a kiss.
Just a kiss, but your lips part, your spit ready on your tongue and slick in a heavy line up the side of his cock. All you can think of in that moment is how much you want him, how gentle his hand is on your shoulder despite the wounded little breath he lets out, and the stickying feeling of wetness that grows between your thighs, your underwear damp at the very centre and clinging to you as you crawl as close to his front as you can get. You kiss and kiss up the side of him, not silly enough to love on his most sensitive skin at the head, not after his warning, though the idea of his cock shuddering against your lips and tongue makes you squeeze your eyes closed.
You kiss shy of his tip and tilt your head back to look at him. He’s already watching you, squinting with a palpable agony.
“Are you okay? Is that alright?” you ask, loosening your grip on his cock to draw a loving, sweet line down, and down.
He catches your wrist. “You can’t do that again,” he warns gently, hint of a smile in his eyes. You beam at him adoringly. “Lay back? There’s something in my way.”
“In your way,” you murmur through a smile, laying back in the pillows as he’s asked you.
Spencer sheds his slacks and boxers. You pull your legs up to give him room to kneel on the bed by your legs, pulse like a constant humming ache against your cunt as he takes your calves into his hands and presses your knees together. “You’re not gonna say please like I did, are you?” he asks.
“Do you need me to?” you ask, teasing him with your own hand, letting it travel from the base of your throat and over a tightened breast to your stomach, then your underwear. You flick the waistband. His eyelashes flare. “I can say please, Spence, I’d love to say please for you. Is that what you want me to do?”
“I don’t ever want you to say please, you know that.” He encourages one leg flat to the bed. The other, he pushes up, fabric of your underwear tight to your warm cunt and heartbeat surely taking up station in your throat. “Maybe I can say please.” His hand coasts down your thigh. “Would you like that?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t say please, or don’t touch you?” he asks, stopping his squeezing.
“Spencer!” you laugh, moving your hips ever so slightly, raising them in hopes of his understanding. “This is cruel, I didn’t tease you.”
“You’re nice,” he says, again pressing your leg up toward your stomach, eyes on the bump of your cunt as he begins to lean down. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a surprising kiss to your soft inner thigh. “So perfect.” Closer now, nose skirting toward the elastic of your underwear. “Please, can I?”
You press your shaky hand to your lips, palm out. “Please,” you say into your skin. “Yeah. Yes, you can. Can you?”
A kiss to the skin beside your cunt, his free hand riding up to squeeze the bump of it, his thumb pressing against wet heat, your breath caught. He rubs a line up from the wet to your clit, and he smiles when he finds it, though that smile is swiftly overtaken by parting lips as he kisses a mixture of skin and fabric and starts to suck. You hiccup at the feeling.
“You sound cute when you’re happy,” he says into your thigh. He turns his head slowly, looking up at you, his thumb rubbing almost absentmindedly at the sensitive little hood of your clit, your nerves all over the place. He’s giving you the puppy eyes, big and brown and in sickly love with you.
“Happy’s not the right word,” you breathe out.
“I should fix that, right?”
Your stomach does a hard flip. “Yeah.”
Spencer isn’t as timid about it as you’d imagined he’d be, his reality better than any fantasy, his hands kind but quick where twists his fingers into the waistband of your underwear as he begins pulling them down.
He lets out a long breath as the air kisses your cunt, his eyes trained obviously on one spot in particular as he takes your panties all the way to your feet. He rolls one leg off, leaves the other hanging at your ankle as he grabs the soft underside of your knee and encourages your leg up.
You can feel your cunt spread, feel the wetness that had been growing dribble from you. “Ah,” you say, more breath than word while he holds your leg in place. “Spencer–”
“Am I hurting you?”
“No, no, I just need you to touch me, please, I–”
He says your name, says, “Hey, don’t talk like that, I’ve got you, I’m gonna touch you, just needed to know you’re okay–”
“Spencer–” you squirm with wanting.
“I know,” he says, the tip of his cock turned impossibly red where it’s resting against the heaving of his abs, “trust me.”
He reaches for your abdomen, his palm resting lovingly on the pudge of your tummy. You squirm for it lower. “If you think I’m not gonna give you everything you want, you're crazy. When don’t you get your way?” He leans down, and to your relief, your little gasp of breath, he kisses your naked cunt. “When don’t I want to give it to you?” he asks into your skin.
Every word he says is heat and movement against the nerves that make up your clit. You practically shiver as he lets his lips part against you and kisses all over, unafraid to feel every little bit of you, his tongue pressed wet and flat your softest parts. You spread your legs in anticipation of him, his thank you a kiss that lights up every nerve ending you have that stems from your hips, the breath racing out of you and moans not far behind. He rubs the length of your leg, his fingers trailing towards his kissing. The hand that isn’t up to something just loves on your skin. The hand that is pauses shy of your cunt’s wet hole —you can’t help letting out a choked moan as he sucks on your clit and the skin around it, sudden, the feeling of hot slick dripping from you worse as he pulls away with a quiet pop.
His lips shine in the lamplight. “I’m gonna start getting you ready, okay?” he asks, a small smile somewhere in the midst of a gaze that’s otherwise laden with lust. His fingertips tease your entrance. “What do you think, angel, can I do that?”
You might need a kiss to get through it. You can’t decide whether you want him to keep eating you out like that, like you’re water to the famished, like he’s worried he’s not quick enough to get every bit of you where he wants it, but you’re so desperate to be fucked by him that you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. “Spencer, you need to kiss me,” you decide.
“I am–”
“No, come here. Need you on top of me. You can get me ready,” you agree, eyes peculiarly damp, “but I really wanna kiss you right now, baby, please, please–”
He’s on top of you by your second please. You gasp at the rigidity of his cock pressing to your cunt and find it lost in his mouth, his fingertips wet with sex pressed to the side of your face. He remembers himself, kisses all the same but hand moving down again, turning his weight onto the bed and off of you as he feels at your cunt. His fingers slide through hair and wetness alike to tease at your cunt. You can feel wet on his fingers as he pushes in just a centimetre, again on his thumb when he circles your heat carefully, and all the while he’s kissing you like he’s been starved of you. He’s saying angel and so pretty against your stinging mouth.
It’s strange when he pushes two fingers in, but not bad. You’ve never done this with one another, and it takes him a few careful thrusts of his fingers to figure out where he should be directing his motion, and what to do to make you happy. You nod into his mouth as he finds a sweet spot and presses into it, quirked fingers quick to the very last knuckle, his pinky and index fingers sliding without resistance against the wet mess on either side of your cunt. “There?” he asks.
“Yes,” you say, pulling his face closer to yours, your hands twined deep in his hair.
He digs around against your walls, to your abject joy and something else, some emotion you can’t name, the want to be touched everywhere by him, to be the kind of full of him where you can’t breathe.
He presses his fingers inside you, undulating against the gum of your walls, and groans into your lips as you pull in a shivery breath. His hips jerk hard, his cock sliding against your stomach hot as a brand.
Spencer pulls up. You’re in the throes of one another, but his eyes are clear. “How do you want it?” he asks tenderly. “Can I stay here, or should I move back?”
“Just to start, it’s always tight–” You catch your breath now he’s paused, stroking curls away from his flushed cheeks. “I’ll sit up a little and you can still hold my hand,” —he doesn’t question this even for a second— “just so you can see what you’re doing, and then–”
“It’s okay, we can work it out,” he interrupts. “I’m not gonna rush and hurt you.”
“I didn’t think you would,” you whisper, cupping his face in your hand.
He ducks in for a slow, chaste kiss.
“I know you didn’t,” Spencer says. He takes another kiss, pressing one to the top of your chin.
Then he’s shuffling backwards and off of you, and he’s grabbing your hips, lifting you up as he positions himself at your cunt. You shuffle back in the opposite direction to wedge yourself firmly in his pillows, knees up and heels either side of his lap as he moves in. His cock rubs against your cunt by accident, then quickly again with a deliberateness, like he’d felt you and couldn’t help himself.
“God, you’re so pretty,” he says. His eyebrows pinch together in a glare, his thumb pressing to your clit. There’s no purchase there anymore, your wetness having made its way up, but he rubs it nonetheless. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”
You grab his hand. Twine your fingers into his. “I love you, Spence,” you say easily. “Don’t be shy.”
He’s giving you that Can’t believe I’m with you look that he often does. It reminds you of the first time you met when you’d called him beautiful without knowing he’d mean this much to you one day, because he really was gorgeous, everything you’d ever want in a guy and lovelier after. You flirted your way into being his friend, and one day your hand-holding was hugging, your friendly cheek kissing turned to lazy hickeys, and he’s still giving you that look. Like he doesn’t deserve you. Like you’re gonna disappear.
You reach between your centre and his to nudge his hand down, guiding him into place. “Say you love me,” you request in a murmur.
“I love you,” he says, head of his cock against your opening. He abandons your clit, to your disappointment, but he’s grabbing the rump of your ass and hip to hold you in place.
He is achingly, achingly slow. He’s so gentle with his thrusts that you feel like you could love him twice as much as when you started, his wrinkled brow, his eyes flitting between your face and the stretch of your cunt to check on you as he goes. He reaches a natural resistance, nothing he couldn’t push past if he didn’t want to, but he doesn’t have to —he’s not fully sheathed and yet you’re aflame with pleasure. He’s at just the right angle. All he needs to do is move.
“There?” he asks softly,
“Please, right there.”
He pushes forward and a breath leaves his lips like you stole it. “You’re tight,” he says, “I knew you would be at first, but I didn’t expect– do I need to stop?”
“No, no, that’s the best part…” You close your eyes. If he weren’t holding your hand you’d cover your face. “Spence, it’s supposed to feel like this, baby. You just find the way you like it and I’ll tell you if it’s not right.”
“Promise?”
“Promise– oh.”
The fronts of his thighs press to yours, his cock flush to your walls and digging into something sweet and sensitive enough to make your thighs shake. Good luck, you think, for the two of you to fit together like this, for his cock to fill you without hurting or leaving you wanting, even though he’s just a little over half inside. He goes slow, almost repetitive, his thumb drawing dedicated half circles into the back of your hand where he’s securing it to your hip. Breathe, you think, I have to breathe. There’s nobody here but Spencer. You can show him exactly how this is making you feel.
“Fuck,” you say, letting out a little moan, worried it won’t be something he likes.
“Fuck,” he echoes emphatically, “does that feel good, angel?”
“Uh-huh,” you say. His chest shines with sweat, his cock driving in, all his touching and adoring drawing a litany of your most vulnerable sounds, hiccups and whimpers, beggy breaths that plead for him to do exactly what he’s doing until he can’t.
“Can you keep your leg up?” he asks.
“What?”
“Can you lift your leg, angel? I need my hand.”
You nod hurriedly and hold your leg aloft as he’d been, not pretzeled but giving him the room he needs to drive forward. He’s swift in his intention, pressing his free hand to your cunt, unabashed, marriage and middle finger slippery against the head of your clit and drawing precise circles. After a few timid thrusts of his hips, he matches speed. Every thrust met with a circle of your clit, his face dipping down to kiss your leg.
“There,” he says to your knee, “I got you, I’ll get you there.”
“I don’t wanna cum yet,” you confess.
“No, I know, but you have to feel good, I need to touch my girl.”
You don’t want to argue with that. He’s never said something like that.
He goes on. “You’re so pretty, I don’t know– I don’t–” He gives a tight smile, “don’t think you know how beautiful you are, you feel–” He moans, then, like he’s pleading.
You don’t expect to be close this soon. It had to be the way he’s talking to you, or his lazy mouthing at your cunt before you’d started. “Wait! Wait, Spence, don’t,” —you grab his hand to stop him from drawing anymore circles— “I have to do it, or I’m gonna cum already.”
He says fuck, thrusts in just a little deeper than he had been, head of his cock kissing just the right place, “Show me how to do it the way you need it.”
You play on the edge of your orgasm for long, long minutes, your hand over Spencer’s drawing the smallest of circles, your nerves aching, the pressure of it like his hands pressed to your tummy. Spencer fucks you, fucks into you, ruts into you when you give him a flirty smile, angling his hips a touch to the side.
You usher him down to you, craning your head up to his. “Can I have a kiss?” you ask with a voice stretched to gossamer. You’re in love with him and you could cry for it as he fucks you, but you try not to. Not yet.
Spencer licks his lips. “You can have everything.”
He slows his thrusts to a drag. Slow drag out, full push in. His hips press to yours and you squeak as he fills you with every inch he has, his hands vying for your clammy face.
He can only thrust slowly from there, though it feels like it’s hitting somewhere new, if not deeper. Shifts of his hips against yours, a mess of slick between you and the friction of his skin. You kiss and pant into each others mouths, spit stretching like a string from his lip to yours that he promptly kisses away. It’s everything you needed it to be, and you can’t hold off much longer. “Wanna cum,” you tell him, stroking the skin under his eye, his gaze aligned with yours.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Can you– like before–”
Spencer understands. He sits back, drags you by the hips onto his cock, and set about fucking that dedicated pace, three fingers pressed to your clit. He goes as slowly as you showed him at first, and that in time with his thrusts sends a pleasure through you that makes you gasp. He speeds his hips at the same time as his fingers, your skin so wet that it requires dedication to wind the coil, but he does wind it, over and over and over again until your walls are rigid tight and your hips are working desperately to chase the feeling. He’s pushing you to the edge.
You cum, and your breath gets caught. You force out a breath and you keen in the feeling, covering your face with both hands as Spencer pushes you through it with a few last teasing circles and a couple of quick thrusts.
Spencer knows without asking to slow as you come down. You laugh into your hands.
He doesn’t quibble when you let your legs fall flat around him, only strokes your thigh, paused half inside of you to offer you one of his shy smiles. “You even sound pretty,” he says.
“You think so?”
“Of course I do.”
He takes a measured thrust. He’s not not confident these days, but you can see the man you adore now between your legs, in love with you but not sure what to do. “You can keep going, baby.”
“You sure?” he asks.
It’s gonna be intense, but you want that. “Come back,” you say, angling your tired legs around him. “Come lay on top of me… Please.”
It’ll be nice to hug him now. You whine as his cock slips out of you and again as he lays atop you and slides it back in, your cunt waiting for him and slick as anything as he settles.
“Is this too much?” he asks, cupping your cheek.
He rolls his hips demonstratively. You didn’t know there was anything left there to give him, but he can have it.
You wrap your arms around him, your forearms to the line of sweat on his back, and give him a hard hug. “You can have everything,” you utter, repeating his earlier promise to him with the same encapsulating love as you cling. “Fuck me however you want.”
When it starts again, chills ride up your spine. Spencer finds a place you didn’t know you had and fucks against it with love, so deep you feel like you can’t breathe, his nose rubbing harshly into your cheek. He squeezes your shoulders tight in his arms and you’re sure you’ll never catch your breath again, and you don’t want him to stop. You’ve never felt this close to him.
Your naked chest rises uselessly beneath him as you fall into the whining, pleading bit of sex, your moans half gasp and lost in his hair as he burrows his face into the pillow by your head to hide his same desperation.
“There you are,” he mumbles, hips grinding into yours. He must say your name ten times in a row, each one more frayed than the last, until he’s lost it completely.
“Go faster, sweetheart,” you suggest, squeezing his hips between your thighs.
Spencer begins again in earnest, nipping crescent moons into the curve of your neck, thrusting fast until he can’t. You hear him trip into cumming like it’s an accident, his thighs go all tense and his cock throbs as he presses you flat, flat to the bed.
He gives a last few greedy thrusts before he calms, though he doesn’t stop moving. Spencer rolls his hips for a slow, languishing minute.
His hand finds your shoulder. His face turns to yours as you turn yours to his, two halves of a good kiss.
“I love you,” you whisper.
He’s panting, but his reciprocation is immediate. “I love you more.”
“No, you don’t.”
Spencer lifts himself up enough to wrap his arms behind your head, almost framing your head where you’re laid underneath him. “Trust me, I do.” His eyes shutter. You close your own in wait of another kiss, but he’s sliding the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own. He draws a circle, draws soft lines over your cheek in zigzags.
“Tell me what to do now,” he murmurs.
You scratch his back lightly. “Aw, Spencer, just keep doing this.”
—
Spencer cleans you up and you finally cry, a couple of tears you’re hoping he won’t notice as he drops the towel on your leg. He holds you with his hand behind your back and murmurs words too nice for such silly tears into your cheek, before asking, scared, if he’d hurt you.
“No, no, it’s like the most intense relief in the world!” you tell him, selfishly basking in the muscle of arms where they’re wrapped around you, and his silky hair whispering over your ear. “I feel amazing.”
“I didn’t think you’d be one of the women who cry afterward,” he says. He’s not judging you, simply sharing an observation. It makes sense. You’re not usually emotional in such an unconstrained way.
“I’m really happy.” You pinch his chin mildly.
“Your legs are hurting.”
You let him go. “Yeah, a bit. It’s a nice hurting. Like we went for a really long walk.”
He takes your face into both hands and tips your head back. You’re slouched forward, he’s straight-backed, and he’s taller where he’s grinning at you. His hand comes to rest against one of your breasts, giving it a little cup before he presses it flat over your heart. “I thought you were never gonna calm down.”
“You have that effect on people.”
“Maybe that’s true for you,” he says, tapping your nose with his, encouraging you to lift your chin. “But only one person’s ever made me lose my breath like that,” he adds, your lips touching, not kissing.
You could keep him forever. “Think we should turn our phones back on?” you ask.
“When I’ve made you something to drink, sure. And found you something to wear, right? It’s too cold.”
You’re still hot enough to cook an egg, but you let him take care of you. It’s as good as being fucked, being adored when it’s done. He gives you underwear first, a soft tank top and a pair of panties you’d left here before and he’d washed and pressed, your sweetheart. You’re surprised he doesn’t help you into them, but you notice with fond bemusement that he’s cringing as he steps into a fresh pair of boxers.
“You okay, handsome? Did you tweak something?”
He’s in pants before you realise, standing shirtless with sex-tousled hair. You could ask him back to bed if you weren’t exhausted. “I’m not in shape.”
“I could say otherwise.”
Spencer’s on top of you again in an instant. He sits on your naked leg and pulls down your rising tank top before twinging your hands in his. He’s practically in your lap as he kisses your chin. It’s that earnest you end up giggling, lovestruck, two idiots holding hands. He steals a couple of lazy kisses. You can’t remember how many you’ve had anymore.
“You’re contrary,” he says as he pulls away.
“Can’t you be nice to me? You were acting so nice.”
He slides off of your leg. “You’re my best friend. I hope we’re this happy for the rest of our lives.”
You fist your hand in the rumpled sheets behind you. He’s apparently unaware he’s said the most special thing he could’ve, opening his closet door to retrieve your pyjamas from the shelf he dedicated to you the first time you slept over. You are best friends, is the best part. He’s not exaggerating.
Before he’d ever kissed you, you were in love. You’ve been in love for years.
Spencer drops your pyjamas next to you on the bed. “You want me to help you put them on?”
You have no reason to need help tonight, but you want it. “Yes, please. Can you rub my back after?”
“Yesss. I’d love to rub your back. If we maintain our physical connection after sex, it enhances the relaxing factor but it also prolongs the effect of the oxytocin and dopamine your brain would’ve released when we were–” He picks up your sleep shirt and shakes it out. “Well, you know.”
“Any more sex facts for me?”
Spencer has the nerve to blush, considering the way he’d spoken to you only ten minutes ago. “An orgasm as a woman can lower your risk of heart disease, breast cancer, and depression.”
You smile at him sweetly. “No kidding. How much to get that risk down to zero?”
He kisses your cheek. “You know that’s not how it works.”
“We can still try.”
“Um. Can I have a banana first?”
“I’m kidding!”
“Oh.” He gestures for you to put your arms into the sleep shirt. “Well, maybe you can have a banana too and we’ll see how we feel.”
˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗
Thank you for reading!!!!! I hope you enjoyed it! please reblog or let me know what you thought if you have the time, but I hope you enjoyed regardless!
#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#spencer and bombshell reader#criminal minds#spencer reid smut
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Ever see a depiction of St. George and the Dragon? It's pretty fair to say if you've seen one, you've seen them all: Georgie on a horse stabbing a flailing dragon creature, princess piously kneeling in the background, vague landscape alluding to the homeland of the artist's patron.
The most varied part is the dragons. No one had a real definition for the thing, it seemed. For your pleasure and entertainment, I have ranked some medieval depictions based on how impressive George's feat seems once you see the dragon.
Paolo Uccello, 1456
This is a terrifying beast. The hell is that. Uccello was one of the first experimenters with perspective, so the thing also looks surreal, like it's taking place on Mars, or a Windows 95 screensaver. I would not want to fight that, I would not want to be tied to that. (Sometimes the princess is tied to the dragon for some reason.) 10/10
Horse thoughts: Maybe if I look at the ground it will be gone when I look up
Unknown artist, c. 1505
This is a rare change of form for the dragon; it's the only one I've seen actually flying (or at least falling with style). It doesn't look particularly deterred by the spear through its throat, either. Also, George looks appropriately nervous. On the other hand, it hasn't got teeth, it seems to be fuzzy rather than having scaly armor, and George is bolstered by his army of Henry VII and his children, most of whom definitely didn't actually die in infancy. Still, wouldn't want to fight it, wouldn't want my pet sheep near it. (Sometimes the princess has a pet sheep for some reason.) 9/10
Horse thoughts: I am so glad I wore my mightiest feather helmet for this
Raphael, 1505
We are coming to Dragons With Problems. This guy looks about comparable in size to George, and does have wings, but doesn't seem to be using these things to his advantage (and has he only got one wing?) And how does he deal with the neck? He does have a comically small head, but holding it up with such a twisty neck seems complicated at best. But most egregiously, he is doing the shitty superheroine pose where he is somehow simultaneously showcasing his chest and his butt, with its unnecessarily defined butthole (more on this later) (regrettably). 8/10 bc it's Raphael
Horse thoughts: AM I THE BESTEST BOI? AM I DOING SUCH A GOOD JOB? WE R DRAGON SLAYING BUDDIEZ
The Beauchamp Hours, c. 1401
We had a spirited debate about this one at work. Again, the dragon has gotten smaller, and this one hasn't got even one wing. He's basically a crocodile. So the debate became: would you want to fight a crocodile if you had a horse and a pointy stick? Would the horse trample the animal, who can't get on its hind legs, or freak out and throw its rider? Would the pointy stick be enough to pierce the croc's thick hide? In this case, George seems to be controlling his horse and putting his pointy stick in the dragon's weak spot, so we can be impressed by his skill and strategy. However, his hat is dumb. 7/10
Horse thoughts: Dehhhh
Book of Hours, c. 1480
Here we have the same kind of croco-dragon, but George's focus on his strategy has gone out the window. He's flailing around, not even looking at his target, he's about to lose his pointy stick, he hasn't got a hand on the reins, and his sword seems to only be poking the invisible dragon over his shoulder. All he's got going for him is that his hat is slightly less dumb. 6/10
Horse thoughts: Yay, new friend! Come play with me, new fr- what is happening
Final dragons put behind this Read More for your safety:
Rogier van der Weyden, c. 1432
I'm thinking this guy is at least semi-aquatic. Webbed feet, wings that seem more like fins, bipedal but top-heavy, jaws that seem more for scooping than biting. Maybe she's crawled up here from the nearby body of water to lay her eggs, and this is all a big misunderstanding. Moreover, George's dagged sleeves seem entirely impractical for the situation. 5/10
Horse thoughts: i got my hed stuk in a jar and now it is this way forever
Unknown artist, c. 15th century
I hate this. I hate everything about it. Why has it got human eyes and teeth. Why is its nose melting. Why has it got a dick on its face and balls under its chin. The fin/wings are back but they look even more useless. Also, George is shifty as hell, schlumped over in his saddle with his bowler hat thing over his eyes. The baby dragon at the bottom eating some hapless would-be rescuer is kind of metal. 4/10 at least the thing is gonna die
Horse thoughts: I Have Smoked So Much Crack
Book of Hours, c. 1450
Remember what I said about the buttholes? First, sorry. Second, yeah, we're back to that. I'll admit this one is less about the danger from the dragon itself than the very specific choices the artist has made. They didn't need to do that. It's a lizard. They don't even have. And it's like they had an orifice budget and they skipped an exit wound for the spear to focus. Elsewhere. It's so detailed. And George had an even dumber hat. 2/10 take it away
Horse thoughts: I Have Smoked So Much Weed
Book of Hours, c. 1415
This is just bullying. There isn't even a princess. That is clearly an infant. Look at that smug look on George's face as he swings his sword that's bigger than the whole little guy. This is the equivalent of when DJT Jr. hunted those sleeping endangered sheep. 1/10
Horse thoughts: ....yikes
And this is the previous one, but now the baby dragon is cute. He's chubby. He's got toe beans. He's Puff the Magic Dragon. His eyes have already gone white, implying that George is just kicking its corpse around for funsies. What's the difference between the dragon and the lamb in the background? That the dragon is dead, like our innocence. This George is truly deserving of the dumbest hat of all. 0/10 plus one more butthole for the road
Horse thoughts: Perhaps it is we who are the buttholes.
#art history#nonsense#hot takes#I am doing a St. George painting and have been wading through reference material#manuscript#fuck me I didn't notice van der Weyden managed to sneak a butthole in his too#the definitive list#when knighthood was in flower
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Summary: You've been known to sleep around with the soldiers on base. It wasn't a secret. It also wasn't a secret that you fake most of your orgasms... Ghost takes that as a challenge.
CW: PiV, afab! Reader, uses she/her, multiple orgasms, rough sex, creampie, oral (m! receiving), overstimulation, fingering, and the reader is pretty much a barracks bunny. Not beta read... still doing smut though I can never tell if it gets better.
A/n: I really wanted to do kinktober but I was late... So um, have this??
It wasn't a secret that you were something of a barracks bunny. You caught the eye of recruits, and whoever of them made your insides tingle you were more than likely to spend a night with. You didn't care to try and keep it a secret. Although, your sexual experiences with most of the recruits and the younger men were… less than world-shaking.
They were good, their dick often leaving you mostly satisfied and feeling like you've had a five-inch stake driven into your cunt for ten to twenty minutes.
But you were also rumoured and soon confirmed to fake most of your orgasms. Sure, the hookups were fun, but you did end up faking most of your orgasms because it simply didn't do it for you.
Whether the recruit was rough or gentle, something was missing that pushed you over the edge.
But hey, you let the recruits get their load off you, so they weren't complaining either way.
Except for a certain someone.
Ghost was hardly the person you'd find sleeping around with anyone, men or women. The occasional quick fuck void of attachment and emotions back home in his small Manchester flat wasn't new though.
Once he fucked someone's brains out, they were out the door and not to set foot again. He didn't think anything of this. It's how it was, how it would continue to be.
But the constant talk of your happy little ass sleeping with every relatively attractive recruit in sight ticked something inside him.
Maybe he secretly wished he could get a hold of you, tame you down, get you down on your knees, and ensure you stayed.
Perhaps the idea of making you his bitch and getting you away from the other sources of pleasure you could find.
And then he learned about it. Little missy wandering around, getting fucked left and right, and every orgasm has to be driven out of her by herself. Something about that. About knowing you faked each orgasm with each soldier just to fuck yourself silly until it hit right.
These recruits were insufferable. None of them could drive you out of this little spiral you thought you had to control. Fuck a man, fake an orgasm and then sleep it off like nothing.
That's the challenge. That's what Ghost saw. A challenge and a reward. And he knew you'd been wanting to sleep with him for ages. He knew, and he wasn't as dimwitted as some people liked to think.
He practically bristled when he saw you walk into the canteen that afternoon, hips swinging, a small stiff in your step, but you looked mostly in one piece. Another recruit following behind you, looking on a mission to tell his squadmates of the night he had with you.
It made his hands tighten, and whiskey eyes lock on you as you walked past, seeming fine regardless of the night. His hand reached out, firmly gripping your hip so you couldn't go any further, capturing your attention.
"Lieutenant?" You asked, your eyes shifting from his large gloved hand up his forearm to meet his gaze.
"You best get yourself in check, soldier," he warned in a low tone, his hand squeezing your hip, nudging you back, his voice growing quieter.
"My barracks. Midnight."
Your cheeks went a little pink. You had the hots for the lieutenant for a lifetime. Part of you felt he would give you something you desperately needed, yet he's never spared you more than a glance.
You smirk softly. "You got it."
He doesn't respond at all. His hand releases you, and he lets you on your way.
You made it to your table, sitting among a small group you'd accumulated over your few years on base. The thought of getting in a bed with your lieutenant was now fresh on your mind, already having your stomach twisting.
However… You'd yet to meet someone truly who could make you feel how you wanted to. Roughed up, played with, fucked until your brain was smoother than a stone, and your name was a challenge to recall.
Was it that hard to ask?? You couldn't help feeling you might be sourly disappointed.
But you'd wait. Also making sure things in your room are charged just in case the night turned as you hoped it wouldn't.
The day drew on, and you continued through your tasks, finishing your work just in time to catch a shower and spend some alone time in your room as you pleased before your wristwatch beeped.
It was about time to see a certain lieutenant.
Ghost was waiting for you. How you figured he wouldn't was a wonder, but you didn't expect him to be standing there. Right there.
You slipped into the room, closing the door behind you. The lights were off, and his silhouette blocked the little light coming through the closed blinds. Your fingers search for the light switch, but his hand stops you.
Gloves still on, he pulls your wrist away, the other hand finding the lock on the door behind you and flicking it closed.
You already felt your heart rate picking up in excitement as he maneuvered through the darkness of his room, keeping you against the wall and at his whim.
"I didn't think it would start like this." You say, your back arching off the wall a tad before relaxing against when his figure pressed closer.
"Wrong of you to think you'd get a say."
His rumbled voice makes you shiver softly.
"I'm not complaining."
He seemed to scoff, pressing against you and making you suck in a sharp breath. His crotch pressing against your own, his large hands gripping your waist to hold you in place.
"Not yet."
He sounded like a predator about to sink his teeth into you, and it was such a turn-on.
His gloved hands grip your hips, lifting you from the floor and pulling your legs up around his waist. You can feel the thick outline of his cock, and it makes you gasp softly.
He takes you to the bed, dumping you onto the sheets. His hands find your clothes, pulling them from you, stripping you down to your underwear. He wasn't wasting time, your eyes adjusting and letting you see more of his figure clearly as he moved your limbs how he wanted to.
He was commanding, your body felt like putty in his hands, and you weren't sure you wanted to fight it.
Your cunt throbbed as he tugged you up the bed by your hips, crawling between your legs and forcing them apart.
His rough gloves feel foreign against your skin, tugging your underwear from your hips and tossing the thin fabric off the bed.
"Stay still." His voice rumbles through your body again. Your first thought of those scarred lips going for what they wanted. One hand kept your hips still, situating his body between your legs so you couldn't do much to fight him if you wanted to. You shiver, watching him pull his mask up over the bridge of his nose and pull his glove off between his teeth.
The second glove gets pulled off, and he lets it fall onto the bed next to you. The sound of his belt coming undone, the leather sliding against itself. His zipper came down, and he freed his cock.
You were already squirming, wanting to feel it. His large hand presses against your stomach, pushing you back down into the bed. "Easy. Keep still." His hand slides back down, your breathing stopping briefly when you felt his calloused thumb rub your clit. He was quiet, pressing up into your body, gently massaging it.
It makes you shiver, his index finger rubbing through your labia and down to your slit, tracing his fingers around your entrance. Feeling how tight you were despite your nasty habit of seeking out other men. He knows you could be so much tighter, knowing what a fucking slut you were.
Pressing his finger into your entrance, the warmth of your walls tightening around him, feeling him slip inside you. He doesn't give a warning before his second finger presses into you, both invading the warmth of your cunt. "That's it." His fingers pump into you, rubbing along your walls, rough callouses giving you a hint of edge with each stroke.
Your hands grip the sheets as he works his fingers inside you, a third slipping in as he feels the stretch of your walls. His palm rubs your clit, making you suck in a sharp breath and moan. It was a little too loud, causing Ghost to withdraw his fingers from you and grab your thigh.
He flips you over, his hand grabbing your face and shoving it into the bed. You startle a little, tensing up, but he knocks your knees apart again and forces his fingers back in, his other hand keeping your head firmly planted in the pillows. Your cunt clenches around his fingers. They work inside you quicker, pressing into your walls and driving inside you.
"Stay. I never allowed you to get loud, pretty thing." Ghost rumbles, feeling your cunt clench, dripping in excitement as his large fingers pick up pace inside your cunt.
It was almost embarrassing how quickly you were on edge. Your hands grip the sheets, hips starting to rock against his hand. Your breath comes out in small pants, muffled by the pillow. His large fingers felt so good inside you. Better than any recruit you've laid with.
You squirm, and as quickly as you do, his hand moves from your head to span your ass, cupping the perfectly round flesh and squeezing it between his fingers. His fingers pick up pace, driving deep into your cunt, fast and barely giving you time. Slick popping from his quick pace inside you. His fingers bullying your cunt, finding your g-spot and hitting relentlessly.
Your hips twitch, your back arching, and you can't help but moan loudly when you hit that first orgasm.
Ghost smirks, the scar along his lip pulling the skin up slightly. He pulls his fingers out, drawing them apart to see your slick and spend ripping between them. Your body shivering a little. "One." He counts, tasting your cum on his fingers.
He turns you onto your back, leaning over your body and pressing his lips to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth. The taste of your cum and his saliva made your head spin, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as he kisses you.
You moan into his mouth as his hand slides between your legs, cupping your cunt and rubbing your clit. Your hips jump a little, his rough palm pressed against your lower pelvis, his fingers teasing along your slick cunt.
He nips your bottom lip, pushing you away before the kiss can properly end and keeps you held down in the sheets, his hand curling around your throat while the other continues to rub through your labia. Teasing your clit, rubbing it and pinching it. "Cumming for me already…" Ghost rumbled. "Just like I knew you would."
"I'm not done with you yet."
You moan, your head pressing back into the sheets as you start to rock your hips. Trying to feel more of his rough fingers, wanting his fingers back inside you.
"Beg." His tone is firm, and commanding. You look up at him through half-lidded eyes.
"Please," you moan, watching him grin and press his fingers against your hole.
"Please, what?"
You squirm, pressing your hips into his fingers. "Please fuck me with your fingers."
You could swear he was mocking you, slowly pushing his fingers back into your cunt.
"You can do better than that," Ghost taunts.
You whimper, trying to nudge your hips back, and you feel his fingers pull away. He forces your thigh further out again, teasing your clit with his thumb. You mumble under your breath, trying to lean away, his fingers stroking along your slit again.
"Please… I need them. I need this, please." You whine, once again trying not to squirm with your desperation growing in place of your excitement.
His fingers press back into your cunt, and you moan. Your hips jolt, rolling against his hand as he drives his fingers into your cunt, hitting deep inside you. "Fuck. Fuck, I- ah-"
He doesn't hold you down like before, allowing your hips to move, fucking his fingers, your slick making obscene sounds.
Your lips part, moaning over his hand, still firm on your throat, fingers pulling you apart. Driving into you, his eyes watching your face in the darkness with each desperate thrust up into his fingers. Looking like a pathetic whore. But that's how Ghost wanted you.
That's how he liked it. He would ruin you. He'd show those recruits how it was done, and cut you down a peg. He'd get you so overfucked you'd only be able to remember his name.
His fingers bullying your g-spot, knuckles coated in your slick, the walls of your cunt flexing around him. Once again, before long, he had you drawn out, moaning loudly.
He pulls his fingers out of you, the sticky string slick between his fingers as he pulls them apart. "Two," he counts, watching you pant, hips squirming and thighs quivering.
Ghost leans down, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. His fingers press to your lips, pushing them past. You groan, sucking on his fingers, tasting you on his hand. Sucking them and running your tongue along them until he pulled out, lightly slapping your face. His other hand released your throat.
He moved back on the bed, planting his feet back on the floor and pushing down his jeans over his thighs more, taking his large cock in his hand.
"Hands and knees, sweetheart."
You panted, knees still quivering, but you shifted onto your stomach, onto your hands and knees. Looking up at him, smirking. The smirk didn't bother Ghost, he already had you under him. He was already the first way through ruining you, so many would never really pleasure you again like he did.
Tapping his cock against your cheek, letting you feel the weight and the size against you.
"Open," he orders, watching you part your lips and lean forward to take the head between your lips. Your tongue runs across it, eyes shut.
He gripped your hair, yanking you forward and forcing you to take half his cock down your throat. Gagging on it tears stinging the corners of your eyes as he forced you further down, fucking your mouth.
"If you're gonna suck it, do it like you mean it." He spits, driving his cock into your throat, hearing your desperate noises, trying to draw in the air over his cock suffocating your throat. Feeling the smooth skin of his heavy cock against your tongue. The skin pulls back over his head along your tongue.
You could feel him, his cock dragging deep into your warm throat and then pulling out, giving you a much steadier rhythm for redemption.
He didn't give you a chance to take control, keeping his grip firm on your hair and driving himself into your throat.
You gag around him, feeling the burn in the back of your throat, eyes watering as he keeps you there, your lips stretching around his thick shaft, spit leaking from the corners of your lips.
The heaviness of his cock on your tongue, salty pre-cum pooling at the back of your throat, tongue gliding over throbbing cockhead.
Ghost pulls his cock from your mouth, slapping your cheek with it and then forcing it back between your lips. He pulls your head back, pressing his cock back into your throat, his balls slapping your chin as he fucks your throat.
The sting in your eyes and the way your lungs burned made your head spin. You could feel your cunt dripping, wanting to feel him inside you.
He didn't let you keep it that steady.
Your head bobbed along his cock, spit coating his length and slicking up your cheeks, the sound of him fucking your mouth. It's what he wanted, making you choke and gag on his cock.
It let you know who was in control. Not you. You wouldn't have one ounce of control.
You were desperate to try and keep up with his rough pace, his hips snapping into your mouth. You moaned around him, looking up at him. His hand tightened in your hair, keeping your head still while he fucked your mouth, groaning under his breath.
He pulled out, holding you firmly in place so you couldn't chase his cock.
"On your back. Now."
You do as he says, turning onto your back and spreading your legs.
Ghost pushes his jeans down further, grabbing your legs and tugging them around his waist. His hand presses against your lower stomach, pushing you down into the bed while his other hand grips the base of his cock.
You whimper, trying to keep your eyes on him and watch him as he strokes his cock, keeping you in place. You attempt to squirm, but he keeps you still, ordering you to stay quiet. He drags his cock through your soaked cunt, pre-cum slathering across your clit and dripping down into the mess of your cunt.
"Lieutenant, please," you whimper, hips trying to press up, and he pushes you back down.
"Please what?" Ghost asks, smirking down at you. He was so in control here, you were the one under him. You were the one who was going to get fucked tonight.
"Please, I need you inside me."
"Mmm, you're such a slut… bet you'd take any cock, wouldn't you sweetheart?" His cock smacks against your clit, making your hips jump a little.
"Just yours."
He smirked. "That's what I like to hear."
He pushed forward, slowly pushing the head of his cock inside you. Your breath catches in your throat, back arching, trying to force more of him into you. He presses his palm into your lower stomach, pushing you back into the mattress. His cock gradually slides inside you, stretching you more, feeling the tightness of your cunt trying to handle a size it wasn't used to.
His hips press forward, feeding his cock into your cunt and stretching you out so nicely. You felt so good around him. Tight, warm, clenching at the size of his cock.
"That's it, such a good girl."
He starts a slow pace, driving his cock in and out of your cunt. Making you feel him, feel every inch of his cock. His hand moves from your stomach, finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. It was too much, the sensations making you moan loudly.
"Shhh, quiet. You don't get to do that," Ghost orders.
You whimper, nodding your head and trying to lean your head back into the pillow. His cock plunges into you harder.
"Do I need to gag you again, sweetheart?"
He gripped your hair and pulled your head back harshly to look back at him. His hips snapped forward, thrusting his cock deep into your cunt.
"N-no. I won't." You say.
His grip loosens, but he continues to fuck you, hips snapping forward suddenly. Your thighs squeeze either side of his hips, heels digging into the skin of his ass as he lifts your hips with his cock.
"Mmm, I think it's more you don't want to." Ghost says.
You whimper, nodding your head. You wanted to be a good girl for him. You want to be quiet for him. But it was almost impossible as he fucked your brain out.
"You're so wet for me, so tight. I bet you cum just from thinking about me, don't you?"
You nod your head, moaning and biting your lip to try and stifle your noises.
His hands grip your waist, pulling you down into his cock and making you take it all.
Your pussy throbs around his cock, his thickness, utterly wrecking your cunt. His cock bullying your insides, finding your g-spot and making you come undone again, orgasming around his cock.
Ghost pulls his cock out, watching you squirm and moan loudly. "Three." He counts. He flips you back over, firmly pressing his hand into your hip.
He leans over you, shoving your face into the pillow and spanking your ass. "I thought I told you to be quiet."
He pushes his cock back inside you, gripping your hips and holding you still as he fucks you.
"One was for being a good girl."
You yelp as he slaps your ass again.
"Two was for being a slut."
You whimper, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.
He keeps his hand pressed into your hips and keeps your ass upturned. His hips snap forward, driving his cock deep inside your cunt.
"And three will be for never listening to me. Because you're a bad girl. My bad girl."
His cock smacks against you when he pulls out, making you moan loudly. His hand moved from your hip, jerking your chin up and forcing you to look into his eyes.
"What are you?" He asks, cock slamming back into you.
"I'm a bad girl," you mewl out.
"That's right, baby," He says, leaning down and biting your neck. You cry out, moaning loudly. His hand grabbed your hair, tugging your head back and holding your neck.
"Mine." Ghost growls into your ear.
He slams his cock deep inside you, making you moan loudly. Your pussy clenched around him, gripping his cock tightly. He grunted, his hips thrusting forward and slamming his cock into you.
You cry out in pleasure, yet want it to stop.
He smirks widely. "Look at you…" He chuckles, leaning into your ear. "Like this for me… just like this… like a slut."
You moan loudly, your cunt throbbing around his cock. Your hands grip the sheets tightly, trying to keep yourself steady as he fucks you.
"Such a good girl…" He groans, his voice husky and breathless. "Such a good slut."
You shiver, nodding your head.
Ghost pushes your body down into the bed, lifting your ass further and continuing to fuck you. His fingers grip your ass tightly, his nails digging into your skin. "Do you like this? Getting fucked by your lieutenant?" He asks, his hand moving to your lower back, pushing you down further. "Fuck, who am I kidding… I know you do."
You whimper pitifully. You were so close again.
Ghost slaps your ass again, smirking. "I like it when you're a slut for me. What about you, baby?"
You whimper, nodding your head. "I like being your slut."
"I think you do, sweetheart…" He says.
You nod your head, moaning and whimpering in excitement. Ghost smirks, giving your ass a hard slap. "Beg for it…"
You whimpered. "Please- please fuck-" You say, moaning out.
"Keep begging…" He says, pulling out. He pulls your hips up, making you kneel up on the bed. He pushes your chest down, causing your ass to stick up in the air, exposed and ready for his cock. He spanks your ass, making you yelp.
"I bet you'd like to be fucked by me all day, wouldn't you? Be my little cock-sleeve." He says, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
He slaps your ass again, spanking you.
You whimper, trying to plead with him.
He grips your hips, slamming into you hard. His cock drives inside you, wrecking your cunt and filling you. His fingers dig into your hips and ass, holding you still as he fucks you.
He pulls you up, pushing his cock deep inside you and making you cry. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you back into him.
"Oh god," you moan, your head leaning back into his shoulder.
"Fuck, you feel so good, baby…" Ghost groans.
"Please," you cry out. "N-no more…" The overstimulation to your pussy was too much.
His hips snap hard against you, his cock thrusting into you hard.
He pulls you back up, making you sit up on his lap. He leans you back against his chest, his hand moving to your hip. He registers your cry of pleasure as his cock thrusts into you again and again, his hips snapping forward.
He reaches around you, finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. You moan loudly, leaning back against him.
Ghost leans down and nibbles at your neck.
You feel his cock swell inside you, pulsing and throbbing inside you. He could feel his undoing soon. He bites down on your shoulder, making you cry out in pleasure. He thrusts his cock into you, hitting deep inside you and making your toes curl.
He grabs your hips, pulling them down and burying his cock deep inside you. He feels his cock throb and swell, filling your cunt with his seed.
He grunts loudly, holding you down against his cock as he rides out his orgasm. You moan, gripping his shoulders and pushing back against him.
"Mmm… that's it sweetheart… take all of it… cum for me…" Ghost moans.
His cock throbs inside you, spurting his load into your cunt. You moan loudly, feeling your release. Your legs tremble, thighs shaking as you cum around his cock. One last time before your body felt completely boneless, the dry orgasm pumping around the load of seed filling you deep, swelling in your cunt. Ghost pants, holding you up against him as he breathes heavily, your body limp in his arms. He kisses your shoulder softly, rubbing your belly.
"That was… mmm…" Ghost says, licking his lips and kissing your neck. "So good…"
You pant softly, leaning your head back and looking up at him. "I'm tired."
He chuckles lightly. "Go ahead and sleep… I'll clean you up."
"Okay." You smile a little. He helps you lie down on the bed, pulling his softening cock from your cunt. You feel the warm mess seep from you, coating your thighs and making you shiver.
#writing#cod smut#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod mw2#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#call of duty smut#kinktober i guess??#kinktober
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༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader
CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!
series masterlist. read on ao3.
Life was hard. That was a fact.
Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.
Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.
And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.
No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;
Getting Murdered
Getting Attacked
Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?
…Yeah. Something like that.
The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.
You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.
This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.
With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.
The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?
Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.
The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.
You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.
There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.
The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.
It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.
You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.
Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.
…Jesus christ.
“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.
You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.
The woman snaps her gum.
You stand there.
She blows it again.
You continue to stand there.
Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I���ll call her.”
Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?
“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”
You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.
Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.
Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder.
“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”
You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”
She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.
A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening.
Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.
Charlie: get milk otw home used it all
No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.
When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.
“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.
It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.
“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.
“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”
You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.
“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”
That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.
As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in.
It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.
It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.
“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”
You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.
“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”
You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.
“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”
You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”
She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”
Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.
Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.
Fucking christ.
Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.
“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet.
She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.
You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”
With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.
It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side.
…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.
Ambers. High-risk.
With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.
Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.
You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.
Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.
Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read.
Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely.
Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.
The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.
If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?
It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.
You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.
There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.
He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.
“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.
He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.
Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”
The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.
…Huh. Alright.
You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.
His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”
His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline.
“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.
He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”
Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.
“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”
His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”
You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”
He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.
Small victories.
“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”
You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.
“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.
Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”
You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.
“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”
There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”
Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.
“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.
“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”
Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”
That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process.
“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.
His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”
Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure.
You swallow around a dry mouth.
“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.
His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.
It remains as he answers.
“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”
a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah
taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]
#🤍 : crave you#⌨️ : love's writing#cod mw2#call of duty#mw2#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#soap cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#john price#kyle gaz garrick#task force 141#141#ghost x soap x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#soap x you#soap x reader#price x reader#price x you#gaz x reader#gaz x you#gaz cod#alejandro x reader#rudy x reader#rodolfo x reader#konig x reader#keegan russ x reader
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Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader
As much as you'd like to spend the rest of your life secluded away from the world, you need money. Conveniently enough, a new detective agency in town is hiring, and the salary is ridiculously good. The catch? Oh, you'll see once you sign the contract right...here. Congratulations! You've sealed a lifetime bond with their one and only employee, a demon from the depths of Hell!
Content: female reader, monster romance, dark humor, perverted goat demon yandere, based on ‘Yondemasuyo, Azazel-San’
[Part 2] [Monster masterlist]
There’s still enough time to go back, you think. It’s loud and crowded and you’d rather be home. The temptation is beginning to creep its tendrils over your mind, so you quickly pull out your phone and check your bank account. The numbers remind you why you’re here in the first place: if you don’t get a job soon, you’ll run out of savings.
Come on, it can’t be that bad. In fact, it’s the best offer you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Minimal interaction with humans, short hours, and absurdly good pay. A new detective agency opened in your town and they’re looking for an assistant. A regular person would most likely be put off by such shady circumstances. There must be a catch, but you couldn’t care less either way. What are they going to do, kill you? Sell your organs on the black market? They’d spare you the time to plan your own demise.
You climb the stairs and knock on the door. A deep voice tells you to enter, and you sheepishly make your entrance. The office is rather small and somewhat cramped, with stacks of papers scattered over the floor. Behind the desk sits a man – maybe in his thirties? – with messy black hair, sunken eyes, and an irked expression. Is this the detective? He looks like an angry thug. Not that you’re one to judge, given your overall gloomy aura that deters passersby with ease.
“Yes?” he asks curtly, not even looking up from his book.
“I’m here for the job offer. The assistant role?”
“Ah, yeah. Completely forgot about that.” He rummages through his drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper, slapping it on the desk. “Here’s the details. Same as in the ad. Here’s where you sign. Do you have questions?”
“Hmm, I guess not.” You hum, indifferent, and scribble your name.
The man finally glances at you, faint intrigue on his face.
“This went unexpectedly smoothly. What if it was a scam?”
“Then what?” You stare him in the eye with a flaccid smile. “There’s nothing to take from me. If it is a scam indeed, you’ll be the one disappointed in the end.”
His eyes narrow in an eerie grin, and he stands up.
“Perfect match.”
“Excuse me?”
He walks towards a secondary room and waits for you to follow him. Once you’ve joined, he turns on the lights, and you immediately notice a strange seal painted on the floor: Geometric symbols resembling a pentagram, surrounded by words in a language you don’t understand. You’re carefully observing the strange sight, so entranced that you don’t sense the detective lifting your hand and casually piercing your finger with a small scalpel.
Before you can react to the sudden attack, he presses your hand onto the contract you’d signed earlier. You wince in pain and swiftly pull your hand away, glaring at the man.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand angrily.
“I thought I’d already introduce you to the main tool we use to solve our cases.”
The sigil on the ground begins to glow and the edges move in a circular motion. A black ooze erupts from the center, rapidly expanding outwards. You glue yourself to the wall for safety, unsure of what is happening.
A clawed hand emerges from the cursed muck, grabbing onto the edges for support. Within seconds, a creature crawls its way out. A humanoid figure with curled horns and long locks, its body ending with goat hooves instead of legs, stands up and stretches before your terrified self. You tighten your jaw in anticipation.
“You always summon me during my best naps, damn it!” the demon barks.
The detective approaches the monster, completely unconcerned, and slaps its horns nonchalantly, earning a groan from the demon.
“Skip the unnecessary whining. This is our new assistant and your owner as of now.” He explains, dangling the contract before the horned creature and pointing a finger in your direction.
“The fuck? You said you’d end the deal if I completed that mission. You lied to me, you-!” the beast finally notices your presence and abruptly stops. “Well then, what do we have here?”
A wide, perverted smile replaces his frown, sharp fangs glistening with malice.
“Aren’t you a miserable one! You reek of apathy”, the demon exclaims, clacking his hooves in your direction. “Boy oh boy, I could just eat you up! Tell me your name.”
You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You wonder if this is some bizarre dream after all. The demon clamps your lips back shut.
“Tempting offer, but I don’t need head right now. Save the gesture for later, alright? Let’s try again: Name!”
Your brows furrow in disbelief at his crass insolence.
“I-it’s (Y/N).” you finally manage to blurt out.
He strokes your head lovingly, as if he’s praising some house pet.
“Good girl. You can call me Zzy.”
For a moment, you completely forgot about the detective being in the same room. He places the demon under a firm hold and shoves him away from you, then hands you a thick, leathered book.
“This is his grimoire. Read it once you’re home. First day is tomorrow unless you need more time.”
“Tomorrow is fine”, you answer in a daze, fumbling to find the exit and ignoring the horned monster waving at you enthusiastically.
You’re lying in bed, still a little shaken from the events you witnessed earlier today. A detective agency that uses a demon to solve matters, and you’ve just been coerced into selling your soul for a lifetime bond with him. You sigh in exhaustion. At least the pay is good, you tell yourself as you trace your fingers over the old text of the grimoire:
“Great President of Hell, ruling three legions of demons. Brings insanity or great sorrow to any person the conjurer wishes. Feeds on sadness and fear. Causes people to end their life.”
Hard to believe that depraved buffoon holds such power. Although it does explain, at least, why the detective was eager to use you as a replacement. Or why the demon showed such intense interest.
“Who’s a buffoon?”
The voice is so close that you feel its hot breath on your ear. You scream and jump back in panic, tumbling out of the bed and scrambling onto the floor. You rub your eyes just to make sure: the half-goat creature is lounging under your sheets, gazing at you with a bored expression.
“Christ! I thought you’re not allowed to leave the office?” you inquire, baffled.
“That’s why I snuck this in your pocket!” he says as he procures a small coin. “I can track down cursed items. Hehe~”
As if remembering a vital detail, he throws himself up and joins you on the ground:
“Oh, but don’t tell Mr. Detective about it, or he’ll feed me to the dogs. It’s our secret.” he pleads, hands put together in a praying gesture.
“What are you even doing here?”
“I figured it’d be useful if we got to know each other as soon as possible, seeing as we’ll be working together from now on.”
“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Well…I also got really horny thinking of you and decided to just visit instead. How about a quick fuck?”
“Absolutely not. Eat a raw potato or something.”
“Don’t be like that! At least let me touch your boobs. Help a partner out, eh?”
Perhaps being scammed was not the worst-case scenario. You slap the demon’s groping fingers away and return to your previous spot in bed. It will be a long night.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere demon#yandere demon x reader#yandere imagine#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#demon x reader#monster x reader#monster x human#yandere monster#yandere monster x reader#male yandere#female reader#monster romance#monster boyfriend#yandere fic#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader
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rose [tattooH x innocenty/n]
synopsis: Harry's a tattoo artist who can't figure out the best way to say how in love he is with the flower shop owner next door
word count: 10.5k
content warnings: smut (first time oral f recieving, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N), brief mentions of violence
read part 1 here
this is a lot !! like a lot happens !! also everyone smiles a lot,, i can't help it they're happy
. . .
Harry had come to the conclusion that of all the things he had had to do in his twenty-six years of life - all the things he had to do and say to get where he was today - saying I love you to his girlfriend was proving to be one of the most intricate tasks he had encountered.
And it wasn't because he didn't love her. From the moment she stepped into his tattoo shop with determination and fear all intertwined into one expression right up until now, he was pretty sure his relationship with Y/N was the physical embodiment of what it meant to be loved and to love in return.
He had learnt so much about the sweet, pretty girl next door. From her little habits and small quirks that she didn't think he ever noticed.
Y/N loved wearing Harry's clothes. He had bought a new band tee from an online shop one of his friends had recommended to him. When the parcel hadn't arrived on time, he wondered if it had gotten lost in transit or they'd delivered it to the wrong address. He had emailed them once or twice to see its whereabouts only to find the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt on the body of his girlfriend asleep on his sofa when he came home from work. "But Harry, they're so soft and comfy!" She argued when he accused her the next morning. "Know that baby but I need clothes to wear." He was trying not to smile and pinch her cheeks when he caught a glimpse of her pouty lips. "But Harry-" He couldn't help but interrupt her with a quick kiss to her lips, "Can use some of my old shirts flower, y' can pick them out. C'mon sweet girl," He led her to his wardrobe and let her scramble through the box of his old shirts.
She loved being praised. Harry thought it was the cutest thing ever when he'd compliment her or tell her how good she was for him and her cheeks would turn a dusky pink colour. He'd often find himself kissing the crescent moon-shaped dimples on her cheeks whenever she'd beam up at him after he mumbled sweet praises into her ear, "M' good girl," He'd say, "Best girl, m' favourite flower."
She loved physical touch from him and him only. His favourite time of day was coming home after a busy day of working and finding his darling girl sitting up in bed, either reading or watching TV, waiting for him in his favourite soft, satin pyjamas she wears (he loved the feel of them under his hands whenever he held her). She'd make grabby hands for him as soon as she saw him walk through the door of her bedroom, wanting to touch him almost immediately. He'd kiss her a few times, run his fingers through her hair, stroke her cheek and brush his fingers over her arm. Even when they were walking through the streets of the town, Y/N would often cling to Harry - feeling anxious being around too many people. He'd comfort her with soothing touches, rubbing circles on the pulse point on her wrist to make sure she was okay.
There were so many things Harry had come to adore about his favourite girl in the entire world. From the way she'd look at him with big rounded eyes as though he hung up the moon and stars in the sky or knew the answer to everything she asked, to the way she'd melt under his touch whenever they'd do something even slightly intimate. He was so in love... He just didn't know how to tell her that.
Harry had never been in a serious relationship before so the idea of love didn't come easy to him. He had spent the majority of his life believing he was destined to be lonely, finding himself in one-night stands and never getting past the first date for lack of connection. He didn't know what romantic love looked like, felt like or even if it existed at all until he met his favourite flower.
Moments would crop up where he could feel the first syllable spike the tip of his tongue but invisible hands wrapped themself around his neck as he tried to let the words out. Y/N would sit patiently, waiting for him to continue speaking, but he'd just end up kissing her, hoping he could communicate his words without saying them.
He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when it came to saying those three simple words, words that carried so much weight between them. Maybe it was because he wanted the moment to be special and memorable for her, so he waited for the perfect opportunity to confess. But the anticipation was driving him a bit crazy.
It was very early Wednesday morning. Y/N was cutting up sheets of tissue paper since it was nearing winter and people would be out buying gifts soon for their loved ones. She had ordered a bunch of new seed packets and planned to make little gift sets to sell.
Harry was sitting at the workshop table in the middle of the shop. He was wearing his shorts and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head. He wore his worn-out, white Vans as if they were slippers, with the left shoe dangling precariously from his toes, threatening to slide off at any moment. His tired eyes tried to remain focused on counting the coins for Y/N's till since she always miscalculated and would have to go visit him for more money even though his shop was cashless which he reminded her every time as he slipped her a five-pound note from his own back pocket.
The shop was silent in the early hours of the morning as the two worked separately. Y/N enjoyed that she didn't constantly have to make conversation with her boyfriend for him to be interested. They were happy to just be in each other's company for as long as possible.
"Baby," Harry's raspy voice broke the comfortable silence between them. Y/N's head lifted naturally in response, "C'mere." He opened his arm out but his eyes were still trained on counting the coins.
Y/N smiled tiredly and walked over to him, tucking herself into his side and holding onto the arm that wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head, "Didn't get to hold y' this morning, left me cold." He murmured against her.
"M sorry, H. It's always stressful when the season changes." She sighed, thinking about all the work she still had yet to do before autumn passed.
"S okay, just missed you is all." He hummed. Y/N turned herself so she was pressed against the worktop and looking up at him. She loved every version of Harry at all times of day but something about Harry in the morning made her swoon. He was so soft and cuddly, needy and grabby, she'd always have to pry his hands off of her in the morning so she could get to work on time.
Y/N grinned and leaned her head forward, past the hood of his sweatshirt, to kiss him. "Wanted to ask you if y’ would come on a date with me this Saturday.” He whispered, eyes still closed from kissing her.
Every eight weeks, Y/N’s shop would close for the entire weekend. Since her shop was open most days, she wanted to give herself at least some time off to look forward to. Harry knew that particular weekend was coming up because of how much she was looking forward to it so he made sure to free up his weekend too so he could take her out for the day.
They had been on dinner dates and done a few other things here and there but there was only so much they could do in their small town. So as soon as he thought of the idea, he booked train tickets to take Y/N to the coast for the day.
“Hmmm,” Y/N sighed, reaching into his hood to wrap her arms around his neck, his skin warm against her touch. “Where would we go?”
“S a surprise,” He whispered into her ear, his breath warm.
“I’d love to go on a date with you Harry,” She replied, voice soft.
“Yeah? It’ll be cold so you’ll need to wear a sweater.” He told her.
"I only own sweaters," She rolled her eyes, pushing away from him so she could get back to work.
"Yeah, my sweaters." Harry teased.
Y/N narrowed her eyes, "Get back to counting those coins or you'll be fired."
"Yes ma'am," He couldn't stop smiling to himself as he carried on counting each penny.
. . .
The small train was busy on the way to the coast on Saturday morning but luckily they had managed to grab two seats next to each other by the window. Y/N insisted that they listened to one of the very many playlists she had curated for them both to listen to. It wasn’t long into their relationship that Harry had come to realise that music was one of Y/N’s love languages.
He remembered when he first moved in and heard her music through the walls of her apartment as he bought his food shopping up the stairs his first night. The music played well into the night and he had planned to knock on her door and ask her to turn it down like she had done to him the day they had first met, but his ears caught onto her singing. He pressed his ear up against the door and listened as she sang to herself whilst dishes clinked together. She wasn’t the best singer he had ever heard but something about her soft voice soothed him, so he turned around and went about his night with the girl singing next door.
Y/N pulled out her wired earbuds not long after they’d sat down and gave one of them to Harry. After Hours by The Velvet Underground started playing and Harry smiled to himself as he watched Y/N gaze out the window of the train. He reached for her hand which was covered by her fingerless gloves she had crocheted herself and intertwined their fingers together.
The train pulled into the final station an hour later. Harry held tightly onto Y/N as people bustled to get on and off the train at the same time. The weather wasn’t perfect when they had arrived - slightly overcast and grey - but it didn’t stop Y/N from gasping at the sight of the ocean in front of her.
“Harry look!” She pointed as the waves rolled into the shore. She looked adorable in her white hat and earmuffs, her white puffer coat made her look like a giant marshmallow. She was almost matching Harry, in his black puffer coat and green bobble hat.
“Y/N! Slow down baby,” He called for her as he ran to catch up with her.
They walked down the steps and onto the beach which was practically void of any people other than a few dog walkers. He was thankful he had told her to wear a thick coat since the wind was bitter and cold. Harry’s smile was so wide, that his dimples pierced each one of his cheeks as he watched her run around in her UGG boots and leggings.
“Beautiful,” Harry whispered, hoping the words would get caught in the wind and blow straight to her so she could hear them.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea,” She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh sea air. Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
They walked side by side with each other. Harry held Y/N’s hand inside the pocket of his coat and every once in a while, she would stop to pick up a shell which she would pass to him to put in his other coat pocket. At some point, it started to drizzle down with rain but they carried on walking and talking along the beach.
Harry would watch as Y/N ran up to the sea to pick up bits of sea glass and try to not get caught by the water. She looked adorable as she ran up the beach looking back at him with her woolly hat and giant coat swamping her. Strands of hair stuck to her damp, rosy cheeks as rain dripped from her coat since they had been out so long. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her as she crouched down to look at something she’d found in the sand. He made a mental note to share it on everything he possibly could so everyone in his life would know how much he loved her, even if she didn’t know just yet.
Harry swore he was going to tell her he was in love with her right there and then but his heart fell out of his chest when he watched her trip and stumble back onto the sand. “Y/N,” He rushed over, immediately wanting to check if she was okay, only to be met with her giggling and laying back on the sand like a starfish on land.
“Lay here with me,” She patted the spot next to her.
The last thing Harry wanted to do was get his new black trousers wet and dirty from the sand but he would do anything and everything she asked him to do so he fell onto the sand and laid right next to her.
His pinky finger hooked with hers as they both looked up at the sky, “Are you happy flower?” He asked.
“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” She confesses and the words make Harry’s heart grow ten times the size. “I think spending time with you is when I’m the happiest Harry.”
When it reached past midday, Harry took Y/N to grab something to eat before they had to take the train home again. Their coats were dripping when they stepped inside the small cafe Harry had picked out for them. The kind owner had even offered to dry them both for them before they had to leave again.
“Harry,” She gasped, “They do blueberry pancakes!”
Harry smirked, not wanting to tell her that he had picked this cafe specifically because they made one of Y/N’s favourite foods, “Really? Tha’s your favourite right baby?”
She nods, “I’m gonna get that- ooo it even comes with the option of honey or syrup!” Y/N beams.
By the time their food had arrived, they were well invested in conversation, “Was thinking of getting my ear pierced next weekend. One of my mates has free space and thought it would be fun to get a hoop or something.” Harry tells her.
Y/N paused on chewing her pancake as she pictured her boyfriend with a hoop earring. She swallowed down her food before getting out, “That would be hot.”
Harry laughs at her bluntness, “Yeah?” He smirked, “You think so?” Y/N nodded, her cheeks tinged pink.
Although they kissed and made out at any spare moment they could, they hadn’t really branched out from the time Harry had touched her for the first time. Y/N knew Harry was trying to be patient about it - he was a gentleman like that - but she was going crazy not having his ring-clad hands touching her skin, providing that ecstasy he had given her a glimpse of for the first time.
“Y alright there flower?” Harry crooned, “Anything on your mind you’d care to share.”
Y/N shook her head, ridding them of her dirty thoughts, “M okay, H.”
“Alright,” His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her, “You look beautiful by the way.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Her eyes softened, “And thank you for bringing me here today, I’ve loved being here with you.”
Harry parted his lips as if to respond, but found himself speechless, the words trapped somewhere in his throat. Y/N looked at him expectantly, her eyes silently urging him to express whatever was on his mind. With a sigh, his shoulders slumped, and he finally spoke, "I've loved being here with you too. I love every moment I get to be with you." Y/N beamed as Harry inwardly cursed himself for being unable to articulate the depth of his feelings. Yet, as he saw the radiant smile spread across Y/N's face, he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and contentment wash over him, knowing that his words were enough to reach her for now.
After the train journey home, which took slightly longer than anticipated, Harry carried Y/N up to her apartment and into her bedroom where he slumped her down on her bed. Y/N hummed at the feeling of her warm, cosy sheets beneath her. “Comfy m’love?” He grinned, tugging the sleeves of his coat off so he was just in his white t-shirt and black trousers.
“I’m so sleepy,” Y/N sighed, eyes closed whilst Harry tugged her shoes off as her feet dangled over the edge of the bed.
“Cause you’ve been running around all day huh? Could barely keep up with you half the time.” Harry briefly massages the souls of her feet after taking both her shoes off, knowing they were probably aching from running on the beach all day.
“But it was sooo much fun,” Y/N whined, her tired eyes peering down at Harry.
“Yeah, yeah, I know that lovie. Need to get y’ out of these clothes so I can put them in the wash.” He tugs on her leggings.
“Can you do it?” Y/N asks, “M too tired.”
Harry pauses, “Y’ sure baby? Don’t want y’ to be uncomfortable.”
“M sure Harry, I trust you.” She tells him.
He smiles to himself as her words settle in the space between them. A smile curves his lips almost involuntarily, reflecting the quiet gratitude he feels towards her trust. “Alright, lift y’ hips for me, flower.” He instructs and Y/N does as she’s told, lifting her hips so he can pull down her leggings leaving her in her pink lacey panties.
Harry swallows as he sees the apex of her thighs. He hadn’t seen this much of her before and he could already feel himself harden in his jeans at the sight of her. “Think y’ can sit up for me flower? Jus’ so I can’t take your sweater off?” He tries to stop staring at her bare legs but he can’t seem to take his eyes away.
Y/N groans but does as she’s told, sitting up and putting her arms up so Harry can remove the sweater from her torso. Her eyes are still shut and Harry gently pulls the soft sweater over her head.
When her eyes open, the first thing Y/N sees is Harry standing above her with his gaze fixed on her figure and she realizes this is the most he's ever seen of her yet. She had nothing but a vest and underwear to cover her body. Y/N was pretty sure he could see the curve of her breasts and the outline of her nipples through the thin, white material.
“Harry…” she whispers, suddenly realising what was happening, how the temperature in the room had suddenly shifted.
Y/N shivered as Harry cupped her cheek and bent forward to kiss her. She leaned backwards onto the bed, resting on her elbows as Harry kept his hold on her cheek, using his other hand to place on her hip as he crawled on top of her. His hand was warm and big and his fingertips pressed into her skin sending a joint of electricity down through her body.
They kissed and Harry groaned as Y/N uncontrollably rolled her hips into him, “Harry,” Y/N repeated, placing her hands on his chest.
“What baby?” He asks.
“I-I feel strange,” She confesses, not really knowing how to go about telling him what was on her mind.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”
Y/N shook her head immediately, “N-no nothing’s wrong. It’s just… Remember last time? When you…” she couldn’t seem to finish her sentence, too embarrassed to describe what Harry had done when he taught her how to touch herself.
“What about it?” He wonders, patience and curiosity on his face.
“I-I want to do it again but different.” She cringed at her words, “I mean, I want to try something new. L-like I want you to show me something new I mean.”
Harry’s features softened, “Yeah? You want me to take care of you huh?”
Y/N nodded, relieved he understood what she was hinting at without her having to admit it herself, “Yes.”
“What do you want me to do baby?” He kisses down the side of her neck, Y/N’s head rolling to the side to give him more room to explore her skin.
“I-I don’t know,”
“Oh I think you do flower otherwise you wouldn’t be asking for something new to try would you?” He sucks on the skin of her neck and she whines at the feeling. His green eyes meet hers as he lifts his head up, “C’mon sweet girl, tell daddy what you want from him.”
Her mouth fell open and her heart beat erratically in her chest, “I-I need you down there daddy.”
“Yeah? You want daddy to touch you down there baby?”
“Y-yes daddy please.”
“Still so polite.” Y/N seemed to melt as he crawled down her placid form, he could do anything to her and she wouldn't mind as long as he was touching her in some way.
She suddenly gasped when she felt him blow warm air onto her nipple beneath her vest. “Can I lift your vest baby? Can you let daddy see these cute tits?”
“Mhm,” She hummed, her body vibrating with excitement and nerves. Harry’s fingertips brushed the skin of her tummy as he pulled her vest up to reveal her breasts.
“Fuck baby,” Harry groaned. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Your shirt too!” Y/N insisted, feeling a little insecure as Harry was still in his white shirt.
Harry was quick to pull off his shirt to reveal his tattooed torso that Y/N had traced and slept on almost every night since they had met. Her hands were immediately on his warm skin as he kissed down the swell of her breasts. Y/N gasped as Harry gently pressed a kiss to her left nipple, sliding his other hand up to cup her other one, “See that? Y’ were made for daddy.” He said as her breast fit perfectly in his hand.
“Daddy I need you,” Y/N whispered.
“Such a greedy girl.” He tuts, “Trying to worship you ‘n you’re just begging me to make you cum.”
“N-no-” Y/N wanted to argue but Harry quickly kissed her lips before moving down her body.
“Look at these pretty panties. Can already see you’re all soaked through them.” Y/N could practically hear the smile on his face. “Can I see baby?”
“Y-Yes, daddy.” She swallowed back her nerves, even though Harry had already seen her down there, it was her first time experiencing someone be so up close. Y/N felt his fingers hook around the waistband of her panties until they were halfway down her thighs and waited for him to react.
“Fuck me,” Harry hisses. “Won’t ever get over the sight of this pretty pussy. Always manage to live up to y’ nickname, don’t y’ flower?”
Y/N’s cheeks heat but before she has time to protest Harry leans forward and presses a kiss to her throbbing pussy. She snaps her thighs shut tightly and gasps, “W-what-“
“Shhh flower,” Harry kisses her knee and then gently hooks both her legs over either of his shoulders so she can’t close her thighs to hide away from him, “Daddy’s gonna take the ache away okay? Know you’ve been feeling all needy for daddy. Gonna do something that’ll help and put you right to sleep m’kay?”
Y/N swallows harshly and fists the fabric of the blanket beneath her. Her heart was racing and her belly was swirling with need and desire as she waited for Harry to do something.
He kissed the inside of her thighs, “You trust me?” He asked, waiting for her approval, “Because I’ll stop as soon as you say so, promise y’ that.”
“Yes, daddy.” She said because she did trust him, wholeheartedly, “I trust you.”
“That’s m’ girl.” Y/N waited until she felt his warm breath blow over her pussy. His mouth pressed another kiss to her before she felt his tongue swipe across her slit. Y/N gasped at the unfamiliarity of it as he flicked his tongue softly over her to get her accustomed to it. His eyes looked up to see Y/N’s reaction at the first touch of his mouth. He smirked to himself as her breasts heaved cutely and her cheeks were flushed pink.
“Harry,” she whimpered.
“S not my name flower.” He murmured against her.
She tried to close her thighs but Harry’s head lay buried between them, licking and stroking his tongue against her. He wrapped both his tattooed hands around her thighs to keep them open, pressing his fingertips into her plushy skin. “Daddy,” she whined.
He licks up her wet cunt once more until he finds her clit. Y/N jolts at the sudden attention to her sensitive bundle of nerves. His lips pucker against her tiny, pink clit glistening with arousal, a whimper eliciting from Y/N’s lip. He moves his tongue in circles around it before gently sucking on the small bud.
Y/N’s a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him as he licks and sucks on her clit, her wetness coating his chin. She bucks her hips against his mouth and quickly removes one hand from the bed to weave into his hair. Harry groans as she tugs on his curls, his cock leaking precum in his trousers, the vibrations going straight to Y/N’s clit.
“Daddy, f-feels so good,” She mewls, continuing to tug on his hair. Harry ruts his hips against the mattress, in hopes he could get some relief as he continues his assault on her pussy.
“Y' so fucking sexy Y/N.” He grumbled, unable to stop his attention from her weeping, little cunt.
Her thighs began to tremble as she felt the coil tighten in her belly. Harry’s hand removed itself from her thigh and slid up the bed to reach for her hand that wasn’t already in his hair. He intertwined their fingers as if comforting her without saying anything.
He paused his assault on her clit, Y/N whimpering at the sudden loss. Instead, he flattened his tongue against her once more before dipping his tongue into her hole a little as if testing the waters to see whether she’d like it. Y/N’s back arched and Harry’s hand left hers to place itself flat against her tummy to hold her still, the cool metal of his rings made her shiver as they touched her skin. His tongue delved in and out of her, using his other hand to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.
Y/N’s mouth fell open, her head fell back and her legs turned to jelly. “Y close angel girl?” Harry murmured, peeking up at her to see her blissfully zoned out from his touch.
“Feels s’ good daddy, s-so so so good,” She babbled her head lolling from side to side.
“Wanna cum baby? Wanna make a mess on daddy?” He urged her, feeling her core clench.
She jerkily nodded, “Mhmmm,” She hummed.
“Lemme have it, baby, daddy worked so hard, lemme taste y’ cum.” He hastened his movements on her clit and continued to lick and suck at her pussy, “Cum f’ me baby.” He coaxed. "Can't wait to feel y' round my cock someday, practically begging to feel y' tight, little hole. 'm gonna be the first and only one to fill y' up, isn't that right? Gonna let daddy stretch you out and fill y' up. You're all mine, 'm favourite flower."
His filthy words set Y/N alight. She felt the coil snap as pleasure rushed through her entire body and filled all of her senses. Harry groaned, continuing to press himself up against the bed until he felt his own orgasm building too, his lips staying on Y/N as she came. He lapped up her juices, riding her through her orgasm and tasting all she had to offer for the first time. “That’s my girl baby, so good.” He cooed.
Harry’s eyes rolled back as his cock released inside of his boxers, his head falling to the side and resting on the inside of her thigh as he breathed heavily, “Fuck,” He groaned, eyes rolling to the ceiling.
The room was quiet other than the sounds of them trying to catch their breath. Harry kissed the inside of Y/N’s thigh and worked his way up her body, placing soft, spongy kisses on her bare skin until he was face-to-face with her.
Harry grinned lazily, his eyes tired as he brushed the hair off her face. His heart stuttered; he felt himself losing his breath all over again despite having just come down from the high of his release as he looked down at his girlfriend. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was glowing from the afterglow, tendrils of baby hairs framed her face and her eyes were hazy and soft as she looked into his own.
“Thank you daddy,” She whispered to him.
Harry pressed a kiss to her lips. Her legs hooked around his waist as he circled his arms around her to pull her in tighter, “You okay? Was that good? Not too much?” He wanted to make sure she was okay before anything else. He’d hate himself if he did something she didn’t like or didn’t want to do.
“M okay,” She smiled, her voice tired. He kissed her once more knowing she could probably taste herself on his lips. “It felt good.”
“Y’ made me cum,” He admits, feeling the discomfort of his own release in his boxers.
“I did?” Y/N’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise.
“Yeah, flower. That was so fucking sexy.” Y/N whined and tried to hide herself behind her hands. Harry chuckled at her reaction, grabbing her wrists to move her hand away and kissing her forehead before lifting himself from her. “Let’s get y’cleaned up.”
Harry walked over to Y/N’s dresser to grab himself some clean boxers from the drawer he had curated from the nights he had spent with her. He also grabbed her some clean underwear and one of his shirts to wear to bed.
In the bathroom, he got himself cleaned up and grabbed a cloth dampening it under the running water in the sink for his love who was waiting for him in bed. Harry paused at the door when he entered her room after he was met with a sight he longed to treasure in his mind forever. Y/N was lying completely bare on her bed. Her eyes were shut, her chest moving up and down and her hair was sprawled out around her. He didn’t know how he got so lucky with her, she was a living angel.
“C’mere flower,” He murmured, spreading her legs apart slightly and trying not to react to the sticky, glistening mess between her thighs. He placed the dampened cloth against her and calmed her down as she jolted beneath his touch from how sensitive she was.
Once they were all cleaned up, Harry climbed under the blankets with Y/N half asleep against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and ran a finger up and down the length of her spine beneath her shirt.
"Sleep now, flower," he whispered his voice a gentle caress in the quiet of the night. The warmth of his presence soothed Y/N to fall asleep.
In the hazy blur of her consciousness, she murmured, words slipping from her lips without thought. "Love you," she breathed, the three words escaping her lips as effortlessly as a sigh, yet she remained unaware of what they meant.
Harry stilled, his breath catching in his throat, “W-what?” But Y/N didn’t reply, instead, soft snores left her lips as she fell asleep beside him.
. . .
It was the Friday after Harry had taken Y/N to the beach. Fridays were always busy at the tattoo shop so Harry was working away until the late hours of the evening. Y/N sat on a chair, her legs swinging backwards and forward as she played a game on Harry's phone. The sound of the tattoo gun hummed in the air whilst a bossa nova played over the Bluetooth speaker. Harry was still working despite the fact it was nearly time for Y/N to go to bed (She had a strict regime before bed which gave her exactly eight hours of sleep each night). He had promised her this would be his last customer as she waltzed into his tattoo shop, ready to go to his apartment together.
Harry hadn't mentioned to Y/N what she had unknowingly said in her sleep. When they woke up the next morning, he gently broached the subject, asking, "Hey, do you remember anything you said last night while you were asleep?"
Y/N, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, just shrugged in response. "Not really," she mumbled, her voice heavy with drowsiness. "Did I say something strange?"
"No, not at all," Harry assured her, though inwardly, he couldn't shake off the weight of her words. "Just thought you might've had a dream or something." But even as he spoke, he couldn't shake off the lingering memory of her whispered confession, playing over and over in his mind like a sweet melody.
"Y' holding up okay there m'love?" Harry checked in, working on the final few finishing touches of the tattoo he had been working on.
"Mhm," She smiled but Harry could tell she was getting sleepy from the way he'd caught her eyes fluttering shut when he glanced over at her.
"Can go sleep on the couch out front if you're feeling sleepy." He offered, wanting to make sure his girl was okay before he finished off the tattoo for his customer. He knew first-hand how grouchy she got when she didn't get her sleep.
"M okay here Harry," She insisted, thinking she was lying to him well enough over how tired she was. "Can I watch?" She strained her neck to get a better look at what Harry was doing.
"Course flower, c'mere," Harry pushed his chair forward to give Y/N space to stand behind him so she could watch over his shoulder. He pushed down on the peddle and continued the tattoo as Y/N watched over him.
"Does it hurt?" She wondered, watching the needle press ink into the customer's skin.
"Jus' a little sting but when you've had so many it's not so bad," Harry replied.
Y/N watched in fascination. She was not only impressed by the design Harry had drawn out and tattooed to the customer so effortlessly but also how brave people must be to have such a permanent mark on their skin. She tilted her head to the side, "I want one," She mumbled.
Harry paused, "What?"
"Nothing," She replied, quickly.
Harry had heard what she said but decided he'd bring it up when there wasn't another person in the room, knowing how shy she got around people she didn't know.
After completing the tattoo, he wrapped it up and chatted with the customer for a little bit. Meanwhile, Y/N browsed through his tattoo design sketchbook with a furrowed brow. Once the conversation was done, he shut the door behind the customer and turned the sign to 'closed.'
He walked over to his seemingly overthinking flower and kissed the top of her head, "Wha's wrong m'love?" He smiled softly, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her into his chest.
"Jus' looking H," She tilted her head back to look up at him, kissing his chin in the process.
"Didn't know we were telling fibs tonight flower," He teased, spinning her around in his embrace.
"M not lying," She hid her face in his chest because he always knew when she was lying and she was most definitely lying.
"Can you look up f'me baby just f' a sec," He murmured and looked down to see the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen, round and sparkling under the blue lights of his shop. "Woah," He whispered to himself.
"What's wrong?" A crease appeared in between her brows.
"Nothin' just...you're so pretty," She whined, nuzzling her face into his neck to hide her very red face. Even though it was hard to tell under the blue lights, he knew she was blushing. "Hey, no, can I have a kiss please?" He cupped the back of her head and pulled her away from the comfortable spot in his neck.
Y/N stood on her toes to kiss him, tasting the tinge of eucalyptus lip balm she had given him when he had complained of having sore lips from kissing her too much in the colder weather. "So y' want a tattoo?" He murmured against her lips.
Y/N pulled away, "I-I was just thinking but-"
"You're not sure?" She nods. "Don't have to get a tattoo today m'love, especially if you're not sure." Harry comforted her, seeing the uncertainty on her face. He kissed the crease between her eyebrows but her eyes were fixed on a tattoo on his upper arm.
"Where'd you get that?" She asked, her fingers skimming over the small design. It was a fine line drawing of a pair of angel wings with a flower in the centre between each wing. Harry had designed it not long after meeting Y/N and had only tattooed the design onto himself a few days ago.
"Jus' a little something I drew 's all." He shrugged, "Reminded me of you."
Y/N's lips parted like she couldn't believe what he had just said, "For me?"
He nods, "Wanted to have you somewhere on me at all times."
Y/N goes quiet and Harry gives her the time to think as he packs away his things to head upstairs. By the time he's finished, Y/N's tugging on his sleeve and looking up at him with rounded eyes, "I think I'd like a tattoo, Harry."
Harry bit back a smile, "You do?"
"Mhm," She nodded, seeming sure of herself, "But I want you to do it."
"Wouldn't let anyone else do it anyways flower." He pulled out the kit he had just put away, not feeling annoyed in the slightest because he loved this girl and would set up his equipment all over again even if she decided she no longer wanted the tattoo anymore.
Y/N shimmied up onto the chair and glanced over at him, "What are you wanting on you baby?" He asked.
"I want the same one as you please Harry," She says, referring to the tattoo of the angel wings.
He smiles, "Wanna match with me, sweet girl?" He kisses her lips quickly.
Y/N nods, beaming up at him, "Yes please."
"So polite," He taps her cheek before going to his worktop and drawing out a stencil with a careful hand. Y/N sat in the chair with her feet hovering above the ground. She was fiddling with her fingers in her lap as she glanced around at the designs she had admired many times before when she'd sit and wait for Harry whilst he worked.
"M'kay lovie, where'd you want it?" Harry asked.
"Oh," She pursed her lips, "I didn't think that far."
"Didn't think that far?" Harry chortled, "How about on your arm?” He squeezed her arm softly above the crease of her elbow, "Won't hurt too bad if we do it here."
"Okay Harry," She nodded, trusting him implicitly. Harry wanted to smother her in kisses with the way she was looking at him like she would do anything he said without even questioning it.
Harry prepped everything, making sure he had all he needed to start the tattoo. He went a little slower than he normally would, wanting to give her enough time to make sure she was certain about getting the tattoo. He mixed up the ink and switched on the tattoo gun as Y/N lay back against the leather chair.
"Y' okay flower?" Harry checked again, expecting to get the same answer he had already gotten only for her to chew on her lip and scrunch up the fabric of the skirt she was wearing.
"M a little nervous," She admitted, blushing.
"Hey it's okay to be nervous," He cooed, dropping the equipment and rolling over to her on his chair. He leaned against the seat she was lying in so his face was up close to hers, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face and the feeling of his hands calmed the nerves Y/N was feeling. "It'll hurt a little bit. Some people say it feels like a little like a tiny scratch but you get used to the feeling."
"But what if you start and then I don't want it anymore because it hurts?" She realises she should have asked these questions before they had gotten this far.
"Tha's why you need to be sure you want it sweet girl. Don't wanna see you in pain either but it's a small tattoo so won't take long and it's on your arm which means it hurts a little bit less." Harry explained.
"Okay," She nodded, "B-but can you distract me a little? It'll help if you distract me."
Harry smiled, kissing her lips, "Can distract you any way you want, baby. Here," He removed the dog tag necklace he wore all the time without failure and handed it to her, "Can fiddle with this while I draw on you."
Y/N felt her shoulders relax a little as she felt the cool metal in her hands, "Okay Harry." His lips pressed against her forehead, "Okay Y/N." He grinned.
Harry pulled on some gloves and got the tattoo gun running. Y/N went stiff as the humming sound filled the room but she reminded herself of Harry's words and continued to play with his necklace. "Okay, ready baby?" He gave her one last kiss for comfort and then, when she nodded her head, the needle made contact with her skin.
She gasped as the tiny needle pricked at her skin. It wasn't as painful as she thought it was going to be but it wasn't comfortable either. She tried to relax but her muscles were all tensed up.
Harry tried to comfort her as best as she could. Whispering words of encouragement, "So good baby, y' so brave." He'd say and tell her it would be over in a moment even though a moment felt like an eternity in her mind.
"Is it over yet?" She was starting to feel the discomfort and was already waiting for it to finish.
"Almost angel," He cooed and finished up the final lines of the drawing. "There we go, all finished."
Y/N let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding and immediately her eyes flickered down to the tattoo Harry had drawn on her. She was in awe of how beautiful and intricate the design was and how quickly Harry had managed to draw it so perfectly. It was a perfect size on her arm, the angel wings matched exactly the same as the ones Harry had done on himself. She almost squealed with how happy she was with her first ever tattoo and how it was a permanent reminder of her sweet and loving boyfriend.
Harry grinned as he watched her face light up when she saw the tattoo, "'Y like it?" He asked, preparing the cream and wrap to put on it before she did something that would get it infected - they both knew she would do that if he wasn't careful.
"I love it, Harry!" She grinned, her smile lighting up the whole room.
Harry laughed at her happiness, "You're welcome baby." He applied the cream and wrapped it up before she could move anywhere. Instead of leaping out of the chair, she wrapped her arms around Harry and pressed her lips to his. He hummed, "Best tip I've ever gotten." He murmured.
"I kinda want another one," She couldn't stop looking down at her tattoo and taking in how pretty it was.
"Woah, slow down there flower, think you should wait a while until the next one." He repressed a smile. "But I'll happily draw up another one f'you."
"Okay Harry," She said, not really paying much attention to him.
"Alright c'mon, le's go upstairs. Wanna kiss you in bed if tha's okay." He quickly put all of his equipment away as Y/N gawked at her tattoo.
"I think I'd love that more than the tattoo," She sighed. Harry decided not to pull her up on the fact she was probably telling another fib.
. . .
"Y/N is that a tattoo!" One of her friends, Shakira, spoke out.
It had been two weeks since Y/N had gotten her first tattoo and she still wasn't over how pretty it was. Every morning she'd wake up and look at her arm and tell Harry how good of a job he did.
"No wonder you're a tattoo artist Harry!" She'd say, to which he'd just smile and sit patiently as she rambled about how much she loved her tattoo and how she wanted him to draw her another one.
"Oh yes!" Y/N rolled up the sleeve of her pyjama shirt so her friends could get a better look, "Harry did it. Isn't it pretty?" She sighed, thinking of her boyfriend who she hadn't seen since this morning.
Y/N had planned a slumber party at her place a few weeks ago since she hadn't seen her two friends, Shakira and Layla, in forever. She'd known them since high school and were the only two friends she really had other than Harry who was also her best friend.
Harry had promised he'd stay away and give her some much needed girly time. Although Y/N didn't like the idea of being away from Harry, she knew it was needed. He had some things he needed to do anyway and she wanted to give him space to do that too.
"Do you think he could do one for me?" Layla asked, her arm already littered with small tattoos.
"I can ask him for you if you'd like," Y/N offered, receiving a nod from Layla.
"What's it like being in a relationship?" Shakira asked, "I mean Harry seems the complete opposite of you, I'd never have pictured you together."
Y/N smiles, thinking back to their first interaction and how intimidated she was by him. Now she couldn't get enough of him, wanting to be with him and touch him whenever she could. "I know but Harry's... I don't know, he's not like how people assume. He's kind, caring and lovable. We have a lot more in common than most people think and even the things we don't have in common, Harry always listens to the things I have to say even when he doesn't completely understand."
"Awwww!" Y/N blushed when she realised she had been rambling too much again.
"You're so cute Y/N," Layla grinned. "And we're so happy for you. Harry seems like a great guy."
"He is," Y/N agreed, shyly.
"Have you said I love you yet?" Shakira smirked.
Y/N's smile faltered, "N-not yet..." She looked away from their gazes, "But I think I'm just waiting for the right time. Harry always has these moments where I think he's going to say it but he never does and part of me thinks he's still questioning it." Y/N admits.
Layla offers her a sympathetic gaze, "I'm sure he's just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you Y/N. Saying I love you can be a pretty big deal for some people."
"I know," Y/N nods in agreement, "And I'll wait for him, however long it takes."
Y/N spent the remainder of the evening gossiping and watching movies with her two best friends. Now and then, she would look down at her phone just in case Harry had sent her anything but nothing appeared other than a blank screen. She couldn't help but feel a little bit deflated that he hadn't checked in on her like he usually would but she quickly pushed the feeling away. Harry had other things he was doing, she'd see him later.
"Thank you for having us Y/N! It was so good to see you, we need to do it again sometime," Y/N stood at the door to say goodbye to her friends. It was nearing midnight and she wondered if Harry was in his apartment waiting for her.
"Thank you for coming! I missed you guys," Y/N chirped, she really did miss having her girlfriends around. She was so busy with work and spending time with Harry, that she rarely had time outside of those things. But after today, she was going to make it a priority to see her friends again.
"See you later Y/N!" Her friends waved as they walked down the steps from her apartment. Y/N smiled and waved until they were out of sight. She planned on calling Harry to check in on him and see if he was alright but a crash from his apartment halted her steps.
She paused, stilling herself so she could hear a little better. Another thud came from his apartment followed by a string of curses and something that sounded like a clutter of things falling on the floor.
"Harry?" Y/N called through the door but received no response. "Harry, are you okay? It's me, it's Y/N."
"Y/N," Harry's voice murmured through the door. Y/N relaxed a little at the sound of his voice but she was still worried about him. It wasn't normal for him to keep his distance from her like this.
"Harry, are you okay?" She rested her hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it so she could see him with her own eyes.
"I-I'm fine baby. Go t' sleep m'love. I'll be there in a little while," Y/N frowned when she heard him wheezing a little as he breathed between words. He spoke much too slowly compared to his usual drawl as though it was too much work for him to speak.
"Harry please, jus' wanna see you." She tries again, hoping he'll open the door.
"Promise I'll be there t' give you your kisses baby but I jus' need... a moment," Y/N's face fell.
"H-Harry you're scaring me," She said, quietly.
Harry was on the other side of the door, clutching onto his side. He was already hurting but hearing his angel begging to come in was killing him. He couldn't leave her out there. She looked the perfect remedy to his currently aching body when he looked through the peephole of his door and saw her already in her pyjamas, looking all snuggly and cute.
"Not tryin' t' scare you, dove. Please I'll be out in a minute." He hoped she would listen like she normally would. He needed enough time to clean up as best as he could so he could return to her- looking like the Harry she knew- but she wasn't having it, reminding him of just how stubborn she could be when she wanted to.
"Harry, I-I'm gonna open the d-door. I have to see if you're okay," She spoke, clearly and carefully.
Harry looked down as the doorknob twisted. He wanted to twist the key and lock it to keep her out but he lost control of his own mind as he stepped back and allowed her to push the front door open.
He stood under the dim light of his living room. He had been meaning to get the lightbulb fixed but he'd been spending too much time at Y/N's apartment to remember.
Her eyes went from his feet all the way up to meet his face. Her lips parted and her eyes started to water, his heart ached at the sight. "No baby," He stepped forward, pulling her into him and holding her to his chest even though it ached to do so.
"H-Harry," She whispered, her voice cracking, "What happened?"
She pulled back and cupped one of his cheeks in her small hand. Harry's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, he could have sworn every ounce of pain lifted from her touch alone. "Was out with a friend, you know, the one who deals," He explained, referring to Mike who Y/N had met. He didn't want to hide from her and she already knew he smoked weed regularly so it was no surprise to her when he told her he'd been smoking, "We pulled over so he could drop something off but I guess the customer got a little aggressive. He was probably on something but he was refusing to pay I think Mike said. I was in the car and all I saw was this guy trying to swing at him. I ran out to help him and we managed to get away before he had the chance to do anything worse but he obviously managed to get a good few hits in before."
Harry hadn’t remembered the last time he had gotten into a fight other than when he was a teenager just after his parents got divorced. He had managed to get a few punches in, making his knuckles all red and cut up, but he'd also been the victim of a few hits too. He had a black eye, a busted lip and a pounding headache from the impact of the punch he had received.
"Harry," Y/N choked on a sob, "Y-you could have been seriously h-hurt,"
"I know baby, I know." He cradled her head in his arms as she wrapped her arms around him, not squeezing too tight because she knew he was in pain. "But 'm here now."
Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at him, "You were helping Mike?" She asked.
"'s all I was doing baby, promise." He hated how worried she looked so he was willing to do anything to comfort her until she knew he was okay.
She pulled away, "W-where are you hurting?" She looks down as if checking him for any more bruising. He could see her visibly starting to panic, her hands shaking and her chest moving up and down rapidly.
"Hey, c'mere, c'mon now." He picked her up and brought her over to the couch, "M okay sweet girl, nothing to worry about anymore. Calm down f' me, please. Hate seeing you in a panic." He uttered to her, rocking her back and forth with her face buried in his neck.
"You're all b-bruised," She whimpered, "Y-you must be in so much pain."
"Not anymore my love. Hmmm, my flower is here, takin' all m' pain away aren't you dove?" He kissed her shoulder.
"C-can I help you?" She whispered, eyes blotchy and red from crying a little.
"Wanna patch up m' bruises love?" She nods as if there was nothing else she'd rather do than be there for him. "Alright, le's go to the bathroom and y' can help me." He carried her to the bathroom and placed her on the counter near the sink. He grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink and handed it to her. "Didn't know m' girlfriend was a little nurse." He smirked, a blush covering her cheeks.
Harry stood between her legs with his hands on the counter on either side of her. He watched her as she cleaned the cuts and treated the bruise covering his eye. He smiled when the tip of her tongue stuck out between her lips, "Be careful, I'll bite that tongue." He teased.
Y/N squeaked hiding her tongue away, but quickly composed herself, "You're not getting anywhere near my tongue mister." She sasses and Harry grins so wide, his cheeks hurt.
"No? You don't think I deserve a kiss baby? M in so much pain." He hides his face in her neck and presses spongy kisses on her soft skin.
Y/N giggles at the ticklish sensation, trying to push him away, "No, you can't, not until I patch you up and you stop getting into fights."
"Actin' like I get into fights every other weekend baby," He smirks, "Only f' you."
Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to figure out what to say in such a flustered state from his words. He takes the opportunity to kiss her, their lips pressing together under the low light of the bathroom. He hadn't seen her since this morning and had been missing her all day but knew she needed some time with her girlfriends without him smothering her. It didn't stop him from glancing at his phone now and then to see if she'd called him, just like she had done.
The small time they spent away from each other during the day made him all the more desperate to kiss her. He cradled both her cheeks in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbones. She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the baby strands of hair on the nape of his neck. "Missed you," She murmured when their lips parted.
"Missed y' too flower." He hummed, "Don't know what's wrong w' me to want you this bad." His hands travelled down her arms, his fingers brushing over her tattoo as he slid past it before he intertwined their fingers together. “Think m just a teeny bit in love with y’ to be honest.” He confessed.
And suddenly they were both existing outside of their own bodies.
"W-what?" Y/N's eyes glazed over.
“Oh shit.” Harry cusses, squeezing his eyes shut, his face scrunching in frustration, “Wasn’t meant to be this way flower.”
“Y-you love me?” Her bottom lip quivered, her brain not quite believing what she was hearing.
Harry's heart was racing as he looked her in the eyes, "I love you." The words left his mouth and had never felt so right or so freeing. He couldn't understand why now of all moments was the time to finally say it but a piece of himself felt whole and all the pain from his body had left as he told her the three words that had been trapped in his throat for so long.
Y/N's mind whirred as she processed Harry's words. The air seemed to thicken around them, and for a moment, time hung suspended. She searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but all she found was sincerity and vulnerability. "You do?" She whimpered.
"Oh no flower, don't cry. Hate seeing tears in those pretty eyes," He began to wipe them away as soon as they fell from her eyes.
"I'm sorry," She blubbered, "I never imagined... I never imagined someone could feel this way about me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Never thought I'd be in love either but here we are," He chuckled, "Love you so much, m'favourite flower." He rubbed their noses together.
Y/N's pouty lips sprouted into a beautiful smile, "I love you too Harry, more than anyone in the whole world."
"Y’ already told me that once before." He smiled, a mixture of adoration and a touch of amusement dancing in his eyes.
“I did?” She frowned.
“Mhm,” Harry nodded, “Before you fell asleep, you mumbled it and told me you loved me and when you woke up y’ didn’t remember.”
“Really?” She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed knowing she admitted something so big in her sleep.
“Honestly,” Harry told her, “Think y’ were probably dreaming or something.”
“Is this a dream? Feels like it,” Y/N whispers.
“S most certainly not a dream m’love.” Harry kissed her quickly, “Gonna love you forever I think.”
She leant forward, running her fingers through his hair as his head fell back. He hummed at the feeling, biting on his lip to stop himself from smiling so much before burying his face in the crook of her neck - in the place he loved so much. "Promise." He whispered, lips ghosting her skin.
Their fingers traced lazy patterns on each other's skin, a silent communication between them. The room was filled with the hushed whispers of their love, as if time had slowed down so they could savour the sweetness of this very moment.
Y/N yawned which made the corner of Harry's lips turn upwards, "Y' done fixing me up now? Wanna go t' bed love?" She nodded, wrapping herself around him. He reminded himself to clean away the first aid kit in the morning, his priority was getting his girl some much-needed sleep.
She curled into him when they lay in his small bed, her head resting on his chest right where her heart was. She played with his hair and he ran a hand up and down her bare back underneath her pyjama shirt, "I love you," She murmured into the quiet.
He hoped she could hear his heart beat a little faster at her words, "I love you s' much, flower. With everything in me, gonna be mine forever y'are." He mumbled the words into her ear.
Harry cupped the side of her face as her tired, glossy eyes looked at him with so much love and adoration, that he didn’t know what to do with it all. In the dimly lit room, they leaned in close, their breath mingling as their lips met in a gentle, passionate kiss. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while hers tangled in his hair. They explored each other's mouths, lost in the heat of the moment, their bodies pressed together. Each kiss was filled with longing and desire, igniting a fire between them that burned brighter with every touch.
“I’ve never loved anyone before,” Y/N whispered to him.
“Really?” Harry smiled.
“You’re my first love.” Y/N has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling so wildly but Harry tugs her lip with his thumb and suddenly her smile is so wide her cheeks turn pink.
“You’re my first and only love.” He murmured.
She liked that and she loved him.
This was exactly where they were both meant to be —with the person who had become not only their first love but their forever love too.
A flower tattooed to his heart.
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Did I make a mistake?
As you're all well aware of I said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr thinking my decision was final. However after reading all your wonderful messages I started to have doubts about my decision. So for the last few weeks I've been trying to pinpoint why I thought I had fallen out of love with high end fashion as well as Tumblr itself and the answer has been in front of my face for the best part of four years. A broken down friendship that has been plaguing my mental health… until recently and I'm going to finally explain why.
I had a best friend for the best part of 15 years that went downhill both slowly and unexpectedly. We met on a forum back in 2005 and hit it off instantly. We then met up and went on various holidays, attended concerts together, did mini weekend breaks away and got to know each other's families really well. More importantly they were the only person in my life who knew about this blog and shared my love for high end fashion. Like most friendships though it had its ups and downs but no matter what we always gravitated back towards one another, until March 2020. A week or so before COVID and lockdown took hold of our lives they told me they had met someone. I was genuinely happy for them, except for the fact they had let slip that I was the last person to know. This broke my heart and their trust as they continued to let slip more details that indicated that I was being pushed out in favour of a new crowd (aka university friends who they had told me they disliked a few months beforehand) alongside their new partner.
They stayed with their partner on and off throughout COVID and I was either pushed out the door or let back in depending on their relationship status. The relationship came to an end for good towards the end of 2022 and as always I was let back into their life with plans for 2023 being made. However I held back knowing the hurt it would cause me if things suddenly changed again. This was also my breaking point with them as I wanted to protect my heart from anymore hurt, and I believe this is where my love for creativity began to faulter. Whilst I found my love for gaming I felt this mental block around Evermore-Fashion and Evermore-Grimoire which I thought was down to my passions changing. I was clearly wrong. The friendship was up and down for another six months, until last summer. They had got back in contact with me despite the fact they had started acting cold towards me which manifested in a crap Christmas and Birthday. Yet I was still willing to hear their side of the story, but it never came as they ghosted me and I haven't spoken to them since which hasn't been fun to deal with both mentally and emotionally. Although I now fully believe this is what was killing my spirit and everything I had loved for so long.
Anyway fast forward to January 2024, I've said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr when lo and behold I come across a social media post that changed everything. The ex friend had written something personal that contradicted everything they had told me (over their relationship break up) which not only angered me but it lit a fire under my butt to stop stewing in the "what ifs?" as well as holding on to a small bit of hope that they'd finally apologise for treating me like a piece of shit on the back of their shoe for so long. Not only that but I started to miss why I enjoyed being online in the first place. I checked out Vogue to see what was occurring during Paris Fashion Week and I yearned to share the Spring 2024 Couture collections on Tumblr (even though I still think it's still a toxic cesspit). Yes I could easily start this up on Wordpress or Instagram but let's face it, Tumblr is still the easiest place to start blogging creatively. So here I am. The fog surrounding my love for fashion has lifted alongside the mental and emotional baggage I've been holding on to for far too long.
There's just one thing I'm still wondering though… do you guys forgive me (as I feel like I've messed you all around ) and is it okay to come back? 🥹
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convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,
pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)
summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store
warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness
genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer
a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.
“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.
a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.
you also had no idea who william blake was.
“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.
“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”
maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.
you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”
“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”
“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.
“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,
“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”
“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.
“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”
“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”
she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.
you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.
you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.
“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”
he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.
“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.
it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.
“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.
spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,
“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”
emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer’. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.
“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”
“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.
“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.
spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”
you were not just someone.
“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”
“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.
“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”
you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.
“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.
“no, this is fine.”
this? them? you thought this man was articulate.
you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.
“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.
it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.
“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”
you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.
“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.
you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.
“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”
there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.
the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.
she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.
“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.
“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.
he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.
“i’m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”
you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”
logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.
“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”
spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.
all you have to do is talk.
spencer is great at talking.
“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”
it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.
“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.
“spencer-“
“dude just ask her out.”
spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,
“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.
logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.
you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.
you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.
you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.
“$2.50.” you grumble.
you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.
“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”
“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”
you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.
“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”
logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”
“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”
you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”
the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.
“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.
suddenly your apartment felt lonely.
so did spencer’s.
he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.
“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”
“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.
“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”
spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.
“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”
“you mentioned that, lover boy.”
pt.4
taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker
#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#cm#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid series
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HONKAI STAR RAIL MEN AS FATHERS! pt one.
— featuring ┊jing yuan, blade, dan heng, gepard x fem!reader (all separate)
— warnings / content warnings ┊hsr men as fathers !! mostly fluff ! SPOILERS ON BLADE’S (?) PART, not proofread i think, you r married to them here, a little angst on blade’s but it’s nothing much, mentions of pregnancy, blade referred to as “ren”, them being absolute sweethearts </3 overall just fluff! | pt two. (luocha, welt, sampo) pt three. (aventurine, dr ratio, argenti, boothill, sunday gallagher)
— a/n ┊oh my days i’m sooo obsessed w these, i love thinking abt them too like okayyy.. strong jing yuan + gepard best father believer !! I ALREADY MADE A SEPARATE TAG 4 THIS TOO SO I CAN RAMBLE ABT IT W MY PRECIOUS FOLLOWERS, ANONS N MOOTS !! </3 you could tell i had fun writing gepards (i rlly did)
best papa #1. jing yuan (DILF DILF DILF!)
- JING YUAN would be such an amazing father, it’s like it’s natural to him, he’s one of the sweetest n most supportive ones !! when he found out about your pregnancy he would spin you around in his arms, kissing the temple of your forehead whispering “i love you”s under his breath. hes such a dilf too jesus fuck
- JING YUAN would have three kids (jesus christ) two girls n one boy, HE WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD DAD N I KNOW IT! he’s so patient and gentle with you during your pregnancy, and he was even more patient n gentle w his own kids, he loves them very much. he would be willing to teach his children everything, he would help them with their swordsmanship skills and even help out with other things, he’s such a good papa it hurts, he’s so gentle with your children, he’s an absolute natural! it’s like he was meant to be a dad almost
- JING YUAN who would be protective over his kids but not too protective, he loves seeing them all free, especially when they were just little cute babies. his eldest daughter loved running around his office, tugging at his clothes and asking him to play with her.
“dadddd! play with me noww! brother and sister wants to play too, we’ve been waiting for ten minutes like you said, but it already passed!”
“not now, princess.” his lips melted into a soft grin, giving his daughter a small pat on the head. “how about this, how about you and your siblings accompany daddy while he works, ‘that sound good?”
- JING YUAN who tries his best to make his children happy, i bet he’s the type to sing small little lullabies for them to help them sleep, rocking his little son in his arms as he has his small little fingers around his. he’s great with animals as well, he would take his children to a little adventure one day and have them hold and feed the birds that are always around him, nibbling on their tiny hands as he guides them, helping them try and feed it.
“go on, try and feed him. he doesn’t bite, he’s not scary either right? dad’s here to protect you, remember?
- JING YUAN who would talk to his children when they were still in your womb, telling them stories about his life, his adventures and telling them how beautiful their mommy was. jing yuan would consider this as his daily routine, he loved talking to his little ones even before they were born!
“hey princess. daddy loves you so much, y’know that?”
“daddy is excited to meet you too sweetheart, yes he is. but try not to give your mother a hard time, okay?“
best papa #2. blade
- BLADE who never thought he’d ever become a dad because of the life he lives, so much regret and grief in his heart so therefore he would start off a bit rocky, he was a bit unsure and didn’t quite understand the aspects of being a father and that worried him so much. he was terrified of not fulfilling his duties and responsibilities as a father but you always reassured him that he’s doing the best he can and that’s what truly matters.
“ren honey, she can’t support the weight of her own head, you know?”
“.. she can’t?”
oh boy.. he had a lot to learn.
- BLADE would probably have one kid! HE WOULD HAVE A DAUGHTER IM CONFIRMING THAT RN. your little princess is almost bound to look like him! she’s like a mini version of blade as she has the same hair, same eyes, etc! aaa it’s so cute! he thinks so too, he just doesn’t have the balls to actually admit it. his little princess would think of her papa as the strongest person in the world! it’s adorable honestly, she wants to be just like him, big and strong!
- BLADE who would be extremely overprotective over his daughter, he would have a very soft spot for her too. he would give everything his all to secure her knowledge about the current life he was living right now as a stellaron hunter, he knew he wasn’t the best, but he was willing to change for you and his child. yet, it still worried him. it still worried him that maybe one day his daughter will eventually find out about his past and follow his exact footsteps, everyday he prays nothing like that happens, he wants her to do good, not bad. he doesn’t want her to fall in the same path he went before.
- BLADE who honestly didn’t expect to have a child himself, so when he was caught right handed carrying a small little child in his arms, kafka and silver wolf would doubt him at first, asking him if this was just another child he found in the middle of the streets, shocked to find out he was acc a father n he wasn’t messing w their heads again skull emoji
“that’s.. that’s your kid?!”
“yeah.”
“she looks just like you..”
“are you sure you aren’t messing with us? you actually had sex?!”
“.. could you have worded that a better way?”
- BLADE who would find comfort in his own family, making a promise to himself that he would absolutely devote his love to you and his little princess, he would do everything to protect you and her, even if it means risking his everything for the both of you. but yet.. he still thinks about how he’ll eventually watch you and his little princess die while he lives on, for eternity. he wants to bask in the presence of his beloveds for as long as he could, he would break the curse of his immortality if he could, just so he see his loved ones die, no.. not again. he can’t afford to see the two most important people of his life die, once again. but he knew, his fear would come true eventually.
best papa #3. dan heng
- DAN HENG is a SWEETHEART. tbh hes a a lil confused but he’s trying + he’s learning! he also never expected he would ever have a child of his own, he doubted his own abilities at first but he got the hang of it as it flows through, he’s an outstanding father too! he’s just a lil confused but he’s got the spirit
- DAN HENG would probably have multiple kids, about two! one girl and one boy. when his first child was born, he felt a wave of happiness and relief wash through his body as he was finally taking in one of the biggest responsibilities there is, he promised himself he would do his best for you and his kids, and he really kept his promise! he does try his best and tries his hardest to give them the utmost care and support, he loves his pretty wife and his kids sm and it shows
- DAN HENG would have good hearing! when his young ones were still little babies, he would usually be the first one to aid them whenever they wake up in the middle of the night crying, gently rocking them in his arms until they fall asleep in his arms, their small hands on his shirt. so cute <3
- DAN HENG who would help his kids fall asleep by sitting or laying by their side and watch them sleep, maybe he would hum a tone or two.. he just can’t comprehend the fact that he was the father of these kids, he treasures them sm and you notice it, he’s just so so sweet to you and your kids
“dan heng?” you would call, entering the room of your kids before seeing your husband laying on the edge of the bed, arm over the two young ones as a gentle grin forms on your face as you shut the door, god. you married the right man.
- DAN HENG who just wants the best for his kids, he would come off as too overprotective sometimes and it might look like he was angry but in reality he just wants the best for them and wants to keep them safe.
“i thought i told the both of you not to go there.”
“.. but daddy you didn’t say that! that’s no fair!”
dan heng crouched down to his daughter’s level, eyeing her and his son down. “daddy doesn’t want you both to get into trouble. plus, you could easily get hurt or stepped on from some big monster.”
“dan heng, stop scaring the kids.” you crossed your arms, before a tug on your shirt was made,
“no no mommy, it’s not scary! because we know that daddy is always gonna be there to save us!” dan heng grinned, pulling his two younglings in a tight hug. he really does hope he can fulfill that, he wants to be there for them after all.
best papa #4. gepard landau
- GEPARD is such a girl dad, he would have three little princesses! gepard is surprisingly a good dad, like i said he’s a such a girl dad he would cherish and love his princesses (including you <3) until the end of time, he’s such a good dad it makes my heart melt, he would probably ramble about the fact he has three daughters to serval, HES SOOO SWEET ABT IT TOO. “mhm mhm. i have three princesses in my household!” is what he would say, he loves his daughters smmm HES A GIRL DAD U CANNOT TRLL ME OTHERWISE. speaking of serval, she would be an amazing aunt i know it!
- GEPARD is such a loving and doting father! when his first daughter was born he probably thanked every star in the whole universe for this amazing gift that was brought upon him and you, HE LOVES YOU AND HIS DAUGHTERS SM BRO. he can be a bit overprotective and it might lead him to seem a bit controlling but he doesn’t mean to be or sound controlling in the first place, it’s only because he wants his daughters to be safe, he knows how bad the world can be and he doesn’t want anything to happen to them.
- GEPARD who is willing to style his daughters’ hair, honestly you wondered where he inherited his skills from since he’s such a natural at it! (he got it from serval) sometimes you’ll even see one of your daughters in cute little pigtails held up in cute little pink bows, it’s so adorable to you!
“who did your hair baby? it looks great today.”
“daddy did!” when she said that, gepard would probably be eavesdropping from the kitchen, a huge stupid smile on his face <3
- GEPARD who does his best to protect his wife and his children, sometimes you would tell stories to your kids about how amazing gepard really is, and how he’s the captain of the silvermane guards! i bet if they still had fears over little things like monsters under their beds etc your daughters would always go to gepard so he can “fight” the monsters off, gepard finds it so adorable how go to him whenever they’re scared, because he knows he can protect them from anything <3
- GEPARD probably has a daughter that looks up to him a lot, trying to follow in his footsteps. when his little daughter was little, she would sometimes sneak out from her room and sometimes catch him training, doing weird motions with his hands she didn’t quite get and copy him! she views gepard as “the strongest hero in the whole universe”
“daddy daddy! look look, it’s a drawing of me in your armour! one day i’ll be just like you, brave and strong!”
the blonde’s gaze softened, a low chuckle leaving his chest as he picked her up from the ground planting a quick kiss on her nose. “you’re already brave and strong, princess. you’re just as brave and strong as daddy is”
he’s such a girl dad ugh i love those men
#ᖭི༏ᖫྀ maryse’s diary ૮꒰˶˃̵ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა#hsr : papas ! ♡#jing yuan <33#blade <33#dan heng <33#gepard <33#gepard fluff#gepard x you#gepard x reader#blade x reader#blade fluff#hsr blade#blade x you#dan heng fluff#dan heng x you#hsr dan heng#dan heng x reader#jing yuan fluff#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you#hsr jing yuan#hsr fluff#honkai star rail fluff#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#GEPARD N JING YUAN BEST DADS
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...part two where alpha bakugou finally tries to court reader after a few years of possessively scenting her and walks in on her in her first hear
Bakugou Katsuki
TW: omegaverse, possessiveness, awkward relationship
part 1
gn reader
He’s trying to figure out how to get you to move in with him.
He’s done at UA now, receiving steady work and paychecks. His apartment is nice, in a good and practical location. Everything is stable. Everything’s in place.
Everything except you.
He knows he hasn’t been the most reasonable mate throughout the years. His confession was nothing short of a threat – forcing you to wear his clothes so others would know you were taken.
But he did those things to protect you, to keep you safe – which is his duty as an Alpha. He's done his side of the courtship.
In all honesty, you’re the one who’s unreasonable – you’re the one not doing your job.
He’s not blind to see how doting other Omegas are towards their Alphas.
You don’t dote on him – never kissy or cuddly or lovey-dovey – at best, you’re passive with an inclination to be agreeable.
How’s he supposed to make any sort of moves on you when you don’t give him any signals? At this rate, the two of you will be left in a platonic state of… not friendship or kinship… just plain awkwardness – a stalemate.
It’s embarrassing… the two of you haven't even consummated your bond yet. In fact, and even more embarrassing – you haven't even kissed.
You may very well not even be mates at this point.
He can’t blame you, though…
He’s not any good when it comes to you. He never has been. All your conversations are of him either tutoring you in subjects, scolding you for not wearing his clothes, or admonishing you for not telling him about your schedule.
Actually, almost every conversation you have with each other is of him shouting at you.
It’s no wonder you won’t kiss him.
“Oi – I’m done. Heading over now.” He grunts as soon as he hears the tell-tale silence of you answering his call.
“Uhm,”
He furrows his brows at the soft warble, waiting for more.
There’s heavy breathing coming from your line. Then, a whimper which only makes his brows furrow tighter.
“I’m – uhm, not really feeling so good.” You finally say.
More heavy breathing, followed by a wince.
“Maybe you shouldn't come...”
“Hah? You’ sick? What kinda sick? How’d you get sick?” He immediately starts berating. “This is why you can’t live alone-”
“Just don’t come.” You interrupt a little louder, offering a sigh. “I don’t want to make you sick too…” He thought he even heard a sniffle. “I’ll stay inside, so don’t worry. I’ll call when I feel better – you can come then, okay?”
A small beat passes.
“No. I’m coming now.”
“But-” You whine, but he hangs up.
Dumb brat. Getting yourself sick. This is exactly why you should live with him. You don’t wear a jacket when it’s cold. You don’t eat what you should. You don’t drink enough water. You don’t sleep when you ought to.
“Oi! Open up, brat.” He bangs on your door when he arrives a curt fifteen minutes later – unbothered by the many other students buzzing around the dorm.
He hears you rush to open, quick footsteps padding across the floor – before the door swings open.
You pull him in by the arm, shutting it quickly behind him.
“Don’t call me a brat where everyone can hear, you dummy.” You hiss, slapping his chest in no way that hurt.
Still, he raises a brow at you.
Then he makes another grimace. Narrowing his eyes as he leans forward just a nod – his broad shoulders squared and stiff.
You curl your brows at the stance, tilting your head in askance while his nose scrunches – sniffing the air between you – almost scrutinizingly.
“You’re not sick.” He suddenly accuses.
It’s an odd thing to disagree on. But it always is with Katsuki – ever the unreasonable Alpha.
“Yes, I am.” You sigh, brushing past him. “I have a fever, and I feel funny.”
He grabs you before you get too far – although softly – holding you by your upper arms while leaning in closer – now with his nose sliding along your neck.
You feel flushed at the proximity. Odd, for some reason.
Something tickles deep down in your stomach, along with the brewing pain you’d felt all day.
“Feverish, restless, aching stomach?” He lists the symptoms with a raised brow, though more so in a statement. Clicking his tongue at the clueless look of askance you give him in return. “You’re in heat, you dumbass.”
This time, you really feel flushed. Eyes going moon-big at his claim – suddenly very nervous. And for good reason.
“No… how do you know?” You deny, shaking your head as though it would make him any less right.
“Tch-” He scoffs halfheartedly – not sharply like he so often does.
Dropping your arms, he straightens his back and looks off to the side – his voice low with something you’d never heard from him.
“You’re stinking up the whole place...”
There’s a blush dusting his cheeks.
The feeling is mutual.
He hadn’t been on board when you’d told him you were moving out of your home to your college campus. The thought of you living in close proximity to dozens of other alphas and trigger-happy betas made the vein in his forehead pulse – hands sweaty at his sides.
But he’d helped you move nonetheless – if only to make sure your dorm was infested with his scent – veering off any unwanted bidders.
“Such a dumb brat…” He sighed. Walking over to the door to make sure you’d locked it – you hadn’t, which only further made him scowl. “Got any idea how dangerous this is? Allowing everyone who walks by to know exactly how-”
“Don’t shout!” You bark back. Feeling nervous and tense and worried – all in all panicked. This wasn’t the plan. “The plan was obviously to use suppressants – but I've never been in heat before, so-”
“So yer sayin’ you had no plan. Tch, unprepared – like always.” He bites back – also panicked.
“Shut up, jerk.” Your fists ball at your sides. “You’re not helping- oww-” You keeled before you could rant – wrapping your arms around your stomach.
Heavy breaths erratically short, interrupted by whimpers and a wince.
His scowl cleared – easing up when he realized his presence might have just made things worse. He’d showered after patrol, so the scent wasn’t as intense, but it was enough for you to react – knowing his pheromones were spurring your hormones into greater turmoil.
“Shit.” He muttered – suppose with some empathy – before he scooped you up from where you were all about ready to kiss the floor, huddled over. “Alright then, brat...”
You were weak to his handlings – before you knew it, you were already placed in the bed – the two of you in a spoon – your back to his broad chest and his chin atop your head.
He was a little stiff – not unlike him – but you suppose he was feeling a little shy about the matter – his movements perhaps even slightly sheepish as he smoothed his hand over your stomach.
He went under your shirt but didn’t lift it off – placing his palm down flat atop the ache inside.
Slowly, he began rubbing circles into the flesh – a little awkwardly until finding the right pace.
It hurt at first – made you tense – but then it settled. The warmth soon soothed the churning within, making it melt, and you let out a relieved sigh – breaths still burdened, laced with pitiful whimpers you couldn’t help but let slip.
He suppressed a sound when you shimmied closer – trying to will away the warmth he felt swell in his pants.
But your scent had been clouding his head since he'd stepped into the room and was only growing thicker.
“We don’t have to do anything else.” He stated through the haze in spite of it – as though renouncing the need even though you both knew what it was that was poking against your butt.
“You’re hard.” You argued bluntly – as you’d learned was your only tactic with him.
Feeling him bristle. “Tch – blame your shitty scent – a man can only hold himself back so much…”
All clothes were still on – and yet… the fat thing that was tucked right alongside the thin cotton of your pajama shorts and undies… you wouldn’t deny it felt nice – couldn’t – not when you were so wet it was embarrassing.
“Stop.” You said – and his hand peeled off your stomach, making you grab and put it back in place. “No, not that – I mean…”
You chewed your lip – shuffling your thighs – feeling hot all over before releasing another sigh.
“You don’t have to hold yourself back…” You could only barely say it – almost unheard in how timid a whisper it was.
He took a moment in fear of having misunderstood you – remaining vigilant in his cautiousness. Every nerve recognized what a fragile state you were in – and nothing dared defy the single dominant instinct he had telling him to cater to your every need – despite the other almost equally incessant urge he felt to hump you like a pillow.
“Y’gotta explain yourself.”
This time, you gave a whine – caught between vexed and desperate. Shrinking where you lay snug against his bigger body, curling in on yourself. “Please don’t make me say it, Katsuki – it’s so embarrassing, I think I might die.”
His heart beats faster at the vulnerable cry. He swallowed the pool of drool under his tongue – squaring his jaw, doing his best to keep his voice calm. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.”
“Ugh – you're such a bully-” You curl even further into a ball with a whimper.
Katsuki clicks his tongue at your behavior – briefly rolling his eyes before pulling you up beneath him. His red eyes, holding that pointed dour look – such contrast to the swiveling of your watery ones.
“Tell me what you want.” His voice was sturdier now – an anchor you could hold onto.
You had often been unsure whether Katsuki really was the right mate for you even though you couldn’t really picture yourself with anyone else – let alone think of him with another Omega without wanting to trash your room like a wild animal let out of the cage. But looking at him now – into those bromine eyes – once so harsh and now so mature, making you feel so safe.
He was waiting for an answer, but your lips had other plans – planting themselves on his in a spur-of-the-moment kiss.
And what left them once the two of you parted was nothing short of heart-robbing.
“Please fuck me.”
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere smut#yancore#yandere bakugo#yandere bakugou#yandere bnha#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere katsuki#yandere my hero academia#yandere bakugou katsuki#yandere bakugo x reader#yandere katsuki bakugou#yandere bakugou smut#bakugou smut#boku no hero academia smut#bakugou imagine#bakugou katsuki#mha bakugou#bakugou katuski x reader#bakugo katuski#katsuki bakugou#bakugou x y/n#bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugo katsuki
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platform ten – spencer reid
summary: two months after he embarrassingly got caught ogling at the pretty girl on the train, Spencer’s team begins to suspect something.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
genre: friends to lovers, rated G for mutual pining and second hand embarrassment. no use of (Y/N).
warnings: fluff, boy band spencer reid (caution, hot!), reader wears lipgloss, excessive mentions of Edgar Allen Poe (one of my favourite Gothic authors), not proof read
wc: 3.4k
part one: carriage six
“So, I’ve been reading Poe’s works,” you begin, your headphones around your neck and you pull out ‘The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe’, flipping to ‘Annabel Lee’.
Spencer watches as you flick to the page, his heart soaring at the sight of the annotations that litter the page. There are different colours and highlighters across the words and from what he could tell pink talked about language and that was the colour that stood out to him most. You bring the book closer so that he can read your annotations too and his heart stutters in his chest at the close proximity. He can smell the strawberry and honey shampoo in your hair and the heat rises up to his cheeks. It’s intoxicating.
“I really don’t think the narrator is a crazy psychopath,” you say, glancing at him. “It just sounds like he’s really, seriously in love with her which just makes a bunch of people jealous.”
He watches the way you point to a certain line, ‘But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee.’
“Does that not sound like something you would say when you’re in love?” You ask, swooning a little. “It’s romantic, don’t you think? And their love is so brilliant and pure that the angels stole her away from him. I mean, it’s sad, but it’s kind of a picture of how amazing their love is.”
He nods along, his cheeks flushed because that’s what he thinks when he thinks of you. But he’ll never tell you that. How could he even dream of you feeling the same? The idea in itself is just so bizarre that he doesn’t even dare to entertain the thought. Not even when it’s late at night and he’s by himself, thinking through every single interaction you’ve had with him since he finally talked to you two months ago.
“And I mean, think about it,” you continue, gesticulating with every word, eyes wide with excitement. “The last stanza. He’s still in love with her even after she’s passed away. How romantic is that?”
“Very romantic,” Spencer agrees, and he wonders if that’s how he looks when he rambles. “Alright, it’s definitely a love poem.”
He relishes in the way your eyes light up at his acceptance, the way you grin up at him and he wants to make you smile this way every day. His eyes wander to your lips and he swallows thickly. You’re wearing that lipgloss again, a cool berry tone that makes your lips shine and–
“Spencer? Are you okay?”
He all but jolts out of his trance and he coughs awkwardly, his cheeks flushed. “Yes!” He squeaks, before clearing his throat and repeating the word. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay.”
He watches as an amused smile quirks at your lips as you ask, “are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he manages to croak, his ears red.
He can’t even look at you. His eyes turn back to the book you’re holding, reading through the annotations you’ve made on the page for the nth time over. This is an example of one of the instances he doesn’t want to remember and prays that his stop would miraculously be next.
“I’ve been reading The Tell-Tale Heart,” you say, bringing him out of his thoughts.
Spencer forces himself to maintain eye contact with you and he manages a small, “really?”
You laugh and nod. “Yep! It’s really good. Kinda creepy.”
“It is a little creepy,” he admits, his gaze flicking to your lips again. He’s kicking himself internally, asking, ‘who’s the creepy one now, weirdo?!’
He figures that you’re either incredibly gracious or incredibly used to it because you don’t mention the way his attention wavers.
“You don’t seem okay.”
Or so he thought.
“What— um— what makes you say that?” He asks, clearing his throat.
You shoot him a smile. “You’re not going on about the text like you usually do.”
He opens his mouth and then shuts it again, his brain short circuiting. He can imagine Derek snickering and Emily commenting her usual, ‘IQ of 187, slashed to 60’.
“Spencer?” You look amused, a smile on his face and a mischievous glimmer in your eye. “Are you—“
“I’m fine!” Spencer says quickly, ears burning. “I’m just— thinking? Yes, thinking.”
You laugh. “Dangerous pastime.”
“What?”
“I— never mind,” you shake your head, continuing to laugh. “But I do want to hear your thoughts on ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ at some point.”
“Totally!” He jolts, and he’s kicking himself internally for being so eager. “Yes. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
The train lurches to a stop and Spencer gets up from his seat.
“Bye, Spencer,” you say, smiling brilliantly at him, and it takes every ounce of self control in him to not just grab your face and kiss you.
“Bye,” he says, saying your name, before getting off the train.
***
Spencer has been acting weird. That is the conclusion Derek has come to as he watches the youngest member of their team enter the bullpen with the widest grin on the planet for the fourth time that week. He watches as Spencer sits down at his desk, looking like a literal teenager, and gets down to work. He has his earphones plugged in, the kind you would get at a dollar store, or the complementary ones you get from airports that never fit your ears right and leave you with headaches because of the horrible audio quality. Derek supposes he’s just listening to Beethoven or Bach or another dead classical musician. But as he passes Spencer’s desk, he hears something that makes him stop in his tracks. Spencer is humming. No, not just humming. He’s muttering lyrics under his breath. Since when did classical music have lyrics?
“What the hell…?” Derek asks under his breath to no one in particular.
“You talking about Reid?” Emily asks, an amused grin on her face. “He’s acting weird.”
“Thank God, I thought I was the only one.” JJ seemingly appears out of nowhere, standing beside them with her arms crossed and a sly smile tugging at her lips.
Rossi enters the bullpen, nodding towards Spencer who was sitting at his desk, blissfully unaware. “We talking about the kid?”
“He’s been acting weird all week,” Derek insists, his brows furrowing. “What do you think it is?”
“Maybe he won a chess tournament,” JJ says with a soft laugh.
Emily rolls her eyes at the idea. “Please, Reid’s probably the winner of every single chess tournament in the state.”
“Maybe his mother is doing better?” Rossi suggests.
“Doesn’t explain why he’s listening to, I don’t know, not Mozart,” Derek points out.
There’s a silence that pulls over the group as they stare at the back of Reid’s head. It isn’t long before he turns around to face his coworkers, raising an eyebrow.
“… Why are you staring at me?” Spencer asks, giving them all pointed looks.
“You’re acting weird,” Morgan says, cutting straight to the chase. “Care to share with the class?”
Spencer offers them all confused looks. “I’m… not acting weird? If anything, you guys are the ones acting weird.”
“Ohh, no, don’t turn this around on us.” Emily grins, walking over to him. “What’s going on?”
“What— guys, what happened to ‘no profiling each other’?” Spencer spluttered, shooting accusatory looks towards his coworkers.
“We’re just worried, that’s all,” JJ says with maternal sympathy, but Spencer can tell that she’s hiding a smile.
He groans, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “I’m fine guys. I’m not acting ‘weird’ or anything.”
“Who are you listening to, Reid?” Rossi asks quickly, nodding towards the ear phones.
“What?” Spencer’s head snaps up, redness crawling up to his ears.
Emily smirks. “Yeah Reid. Who are you listening to?”
“No one,” he answers, avoiding their gaze. “I’m uh— I’m going back to work.”
He quickly turns his chair around, busting himself with his files. His co-workers all exchange glances, mischievous grins on their faces.
“You know, I could just ask Garcia to dig into your phone,” Derek says with a shrug. “Or you could tell us yourself.”
Spencer shoots him a light hearted glare. “You wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You wouldn’t.”
***
Spencer thinks he’s going to die of mortification. He spent that entire week downloading all of the released songs by Taylor Swift, dutifully listening to each song and reporting back to you on his opinions. He has since come to a conclusion: Taylor Swift is a lyrical genius. Granted, he doesn’t have much experience with other branches of music that involves lyrics, but he figures it’s pretty similar to poetry. Regardless, he’s one hundred percent sure that he’s in for a world of teasing and tasteful jabs towards his sudden shift in music taste.
He’s also been doing this thing called texting, and he even went as far as getting a new phone and email address just so that he could properly contact you. He’s been in contact with you for the past eight weeks, going as far as messaging and calling you during break times and hiding in the bathroom to have an ounce of privacy. He feels like a changed person, all because of a tiny handheld device that fits in his back pocket. And you. Mostly you. The worst thing about this entire situation is the fact that Morgan did in fact manage to convince Garcia to snoop into his phone.
“Alright, Reid, quit hiding. Who’s the girl?” Derek demands, slapping a piece of paper onto Spencer’s desk. It’s a log of calls and downloads. In other words, it’s a log of all the times he’s called the same number and all the Taylor Swift songs he’s downloaded.
“Girl? What— what girl?” Spencer asks, playing dumb and willing himself to look Derek in the eye. His mind is spinning. ‘Blink evenly. Maintain eye contact. Don’t stutter. Answer his questions evenly. Play dumb. There is no girl, there is no girl there is no—‘
“Reid? Reid? Spencer!” Derek snaps his fingers in front of his face, jolting him out of his trance.
“Huh?” Spencer jolts, snapping out of his trance. “What?”
Derek snorts at his reaction. “Look, kid. This person calls your cell every day at 12:30, which just so happens to be in two minutes. So, either you tell me and I let you have your fun, or she calls you and she’ll be hearing my voice instead of yours.”
Spencer scoffs, holding his phone firmly in the palm of his hand. “There is no girl, Morgan.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious!” Spencer says, his voice going up and octave and he cringes internally. Smooth. “There is no girl.”
“Totally believe you.”
He groans, wiping a hand over his face to calm himself down. Before he could respond, the phone in his hand begins to ring. A smirk tugs at Derek’s lips and he immediately lunges for the phone, eliciting a yelp from Spencer who leaps from his seat.
“Morgan— Morgan no—“
“C’mon kid, it’ll be a lot easier if you just give in!”
“No! Nope, nope, Morgan I swear to-“
In seconds, Derek snatches Spencer’s phone out of his hand, a triumphant look on his face. He keeps Spencer at arm’s length as he picks up the phone.
“Hey Spence!” A voice rings through the phone.
“Sorry, sweetheart, not Spencer,” Derek responds, his voice smug.
“… that’s concerning,” The voice responds slowly, cautiously. “Who is this?”
Spencer grabs the phone out of Derek’s hand, running out of the bullpen as quickly as his long legs could carry him, flipping his coworker the finger before he leaves.
“Hello?” He asks into the phone. “I’m so sorry, that was Derek, my co-worker.”
“Oh, the bald one!” You say quickly, recalling his name from the photos Spencer had shown you beforehand. “I thought it was like… a bad guy or something.”
He laughs softly into the phone, his cheeks warm and wearing a smile that could split his face in two. “Don’t worry, he’s not a bad guy. A pain in the ass, maybe, but not a bad guy.”
He hears you chuckle from the other side of the line. “Yeah, he seems like a nice person. Your entire team sounds really cool.”
“Maybe you could meet them at some point,” Spencer says quietly, his heart thundering in his chest. “I mean, they kind of already know you exist.”
“That would be fun,” You muse, and he hears the soft ruffling of cling wrap in the background.
“Lunch?”
He hears you hum in response, and he can’t help but chuckle. There’s a silence for a few seconds, and he assumes you were eating, before your voice picks up again.
“I’d love to meet your team at some point, Spence. They seem like really amazing people.”
He can’t help but smile, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. They are. You’d love them, and I’m sure they’d love you just as much.”
Before long, lunch break is over and Spencer begrudgingly hangs up and returns to the bullpen, his team all wearing frustratingly smug faces. He rolls his eyes, not paying them any kind as he returns to his desk. He ignores the very blatant whistle Derek does in his direction and the snort Emily fails to hide.
“So…” JJ begins, dragging her words out. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”
Spencer chokes on air and bites his tongue, grimacing at the taste of blood. “I do not have a girlfriend.” It’s not a lie.
“But you want her to be,” Emily says, smirking.
“No! Yes. I don’t know, maybe?” Spencer feels like a teenage boy being lectured by his parents. Not that he knows what that feels like.
“Alright, well, have you asked her on a date?” Derek asks as he raises an eyebrow.
Spencer coughs, reaching for his mug of stale coffee. That’s all he needs to do to answer Derek’s question, because in moments Derek is screaming in his ear.
“Why haven’t you asked her out yet?!”
“We talk loads of times,” Spencer insists, hiding behind his disgustingly old coffee. “We just never… we’re just friends.”
Rossi bites back a chuckle. “Yes, because friends call each other every day during their lunch breaks.”
Spencer feels his face grow impossibly hotter and he chugs the last of his coffee. He cringes before turning his attention back to his files in an attempt to calm himself down. It doesn’t work.
“How did you meet her?” JJ asks, gentler this time.
Spencer flushes and plays with his watch. “On the train.”
“That’s very you,” she laughs, ruffling his hair. “She seems really nice, Spencer.”
He preens at the compliment, his mind drifting to your pretty hair and glossy lips. He sports a grin and he nods. “She’s really, really nice.”
***
Spencer sits next to you on the train as usual. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is combed to be a little neater, only for his efforts to be destroyed when a strong gust of wind hits his face the moment he left his apartment. He reminds himself to put a comb into his bag after work. You’re talking about another one of Poe’s works, this time ‘The Raven’, another love poem. Your eyes are bright with excitement as you go on and on about the writing style and whatever else.
Spencer is far from religious but your existence alone is enough to have him thanking the heaven’s that he is alive. He can’t help but smile every time you do, his gaze perpetually on your lips. He feels a little guilty about it, about how he can’t even control himself when he’s around you but you’re just so beautiful that he can’t help himself. He feels even guiltier when he realises he hasn’t processed a word you’ve said.
“... and that’s why I think Edgar Allen Poe is really just a huge softie who wants to be loved,” you finish, snapping the book closed. “What do you think, Doctor Genius?”
“Totally,” Spencer agrees quickly, almost biting his tongue. “Absolutely.”
You laugh and Spencer thinks he’s going to faint.
“Where are you up to in your Taylor Swift project?” You ask teasingly, nudging his arm. If it were anyone else, Spencer would have grimaced and shrugged them off but you aren’t just ‘anyone’. You’re the most amazing person in the world.
“I’m up to 1989 track 9, Wildest Dreams,” Spencer recites, pulling out his notebook from his inner jacket pocket. It’s a small leatherbound notebook that he’s been writing all his thoughts in regards to the Taylor Swift songs, all in chronological order. He’s actually quite proud of it as he flicks to the latest page. “I really like this one. I did some research and I found out that the bass sound in the background is actually her heartbeat. That’s pretty interesting.”
You almost scream in excitement, leaning closer to him to read his notes. “I love this song! It’s my favourite Taylor Swift song ever and it’s just so pretty, you know?”
He nods in agreement, his cheeks flushed at the close proximity and he finds that he can no longer feel his tongue. He should get that checked out.
“It reminds me of you sometimes,” you say, completely unabashed. Spencer thinks you’re trying to kill him.
“What?” He asks meekly, recalling every lyric from the song.
You freeze, flustered and you pull away from him. Spencer frowns at the sudden space but he watches as you stammer and stumble over your words.
“I just meant– you know, it’s a good song! That’s all.” You laugh anxiously, fiddling with the book in your hand. “Never mind, just ignore me. Tell me more about what you like about the song.”
In an almost uncharacteristic bout of confidence, Spencer reaches out to take your hand in his. At first, he thought his head was going to explode. It felt heavy and light all at the same time and he was almost about to pull his hand away when you squeezed his fingers. Just like that, all doubts are gone. You’re smiling at him and Spencer knows that he would do absolutely anything to make sure to keep it there.
When the train lurches to a stop at Quantico, Spencer doesn’t make any effort to move. He’s grinning ear-to-ear, intertwining your fingers with his.
“Isn’t this your stop?” You ask gently, loosening your hold on his hand.
He shrugs, holding onto your hand tighter. “I’m always early. I can be late for once.”
Besides, he thinks to himself, inching closer to you, this is so worth it.
Pride bubbles in his heart when he hears you laugh again and his smile grows impossibly wider.
“We’re almost at my stop,” you say, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand. “We should go out. You know, instead of just meeting on the train.”
Spencer nods immediately at the suggestion. “I’d like that. Are you free on Saturday?”
“I’m definitely free on Saturday,” you respond, squeezing his hand again.
Spencer sits there with you until you make it to your stop. The corners of his eyes are crinkled and he feels happy, so goddamn happy, and he wonders how he’s lived without you. Before you get off the train, he calls your name. He relishes in the way you turn around, the confusion palpable in your eyes.
“Yeah?”
He takes a step closer to you, his face in front of yours. His heartbeat is in his ears but at the same time he feels an incredibly ironic sense of calm. In seconds, he presses his lips to yours in a short kiss. He grins at you as you stumble out of the train dazed, waving goodbye. From the window he could see you press your cold hands to your cheeks before reaching for your phone.
The smile that grows on his face when he sees your face light up his phone is embarrassing. It’s goofy and silly and he is so grateful that the carriage is empty.
“Hello?”
“You cannot–” your voice comes through the speaker and he grins again– “you cannot just kiss me randomly and then leave.”
“Technically the train left, not me,” Spencer says with a small laugh.
You’re quiet on the other end before replying, “We need a re-do on Saturday.”
Spencer has no complaints.
reblogs are always appreciated!
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Ive been loving all the fics youve been posting. I had this lil idea that hopefully sparks joy for you if ur requests are open. Its an azriel x reader. Where reader is very cold hearted and kinda mean almost bitchy like nesta. Hates to be touched eapecially on her back. Azriel hates her cuz she so unpleastant and so incredibly difficult. The bond snaps for azriel and hes so so confused because he for sure thought elain was for him. Reader always looks at azriels hands almost disgusted but the truth is that she had her wings cut off and the stumps burned down to her flesh, so her entire back is scarred like azriels hands. Her face isnt of disgust but since he hides his hands she assumes he'd be disgusted in her. Azriel softens up to her when he finds out she has a soft spot for children, maybe she teaches orphaned children in the city. Idk i just like the idea of a cold hearted reader thats just as scarred as azzy but actually has a soft heart for kids. Or maybe shes always longed for a family of her own but cant get passed her own insecurities. You can change whatever you'd like to fit your writing style. ❤️
Thank you love!!!! I am OBSESSED with this idea and took off with it. I decided to turn it into a mini series, when I started writing the Readers POV it was getting wayyyy long. I hope I have done your idea justice, here is part 1 <3
Cold Hearts: Azriel x Reader
Chapter Warnings: None
Pt. 2 Here
***
Azriel couldn’t stand her. She was nothing but cold and hateful to everyone, especially to him. When she had first come to stay with Rhysand in Velaris, he had tried to be kind to her. Rhys hadn’t told anyone why he brought her, and she certainly never opened up about it.
The first day he met her, she was sitting silently in the small library in the House of Wind. Azriel had smiled at her and given a “Good morning.” She had turned sharply to look at him, her gaze focusing on the hand he waved with. He watched the look of disgust come over her face before she turned back to staring into the fire.
Azriel had been a little taken aback. Sure, he struggled with the way his hands looked, and was no stranger to the dirty looks. The look on her face had been nastier than he had ever seen. She looked at his hands like they caused her pain. He left the library after that, not sure what to think.
Many years had gone by since that first meeting, and Azriel preferred to stay far away from her. No one else wears very fond of her either. He still didn’t know why Rhys had brought her here, nor why he allowed her to stay. She spent most of her days locked in her room or sitting in the library. She occasionally came to meals with the family, rarely speaking. And when she did speak? It was always some cold remark, as if she wanted to be anywhere else with anyone else.
So why did she stay?
Azriel pondered that question far too often. When Rhys became trapped Under the Mountain, he had included that everyone should be prepared for war in his last message. Azriel took it upon himself to train her. He had shown up to her room early in the morning, expecting a fight. To his shock, she willingly came.
She took to training quicker than Azriel had thought. She proved to have some skill under that cold shell she showed everybody, even if it took some coaxing for it to come out. He was impressed. Azriel even started enjoying teaching her, until the day she lashed out at him and declared she never wanted to see him again.
He didn’t know what he had done wrong.
He was trying to teach her a slightly difficult new maneuver. She was struggling to angle her body the correct way, unable to understand how Azriel did it. He had reached out to help her, placing a hand on her lower back and shoulder to move her body into place. She shot out of his grasp like he had stabbed her, whipping around to face him.
“What do you think you are doing?” She had seethed, eyes on fire. Azriel had held his hands up in surrender, confused.
“I was just trying to help-“ He had begun, being cut off by her.
“Don’t. Don’t fucking touch me.” She had glared at his hands, a stare he didn’t miss.
“I don’t understand why you must be so insufferable all of the time!” Azriel had snapped, fed up with the constant negativity and judgement that came from her.
“Maybe don’t be a nasty pig and grab up on any female you see!” She had shouted, turning to leave the ring. “Stay away from me. I don’t wish to see you anymore.”
And that was that.
Cassian had taken over her training from then on out. Azriel was fine with it. She clearly had some sort of issue with him, and it seemed to stem from his hands. His ugly, scarred hands. Were they really so grotesque she couldn’t even stand him touching her?
***
When Rhysand had returned from Under the Mountain, things got better and worse. At first, she had been kinder. Azriel had noticed how she rushed to Rhys before anyone else, how carefully she wrapped him in her arms. The two of them had disappeared after that, not seen until the next day. Azriel couldn’t figure out why the two of them had such a bond, why Rhysand cared for her so much. He had just come back and announced that the human girl - Feyre - was his mate, so it couldn’t be a romantic attraction.
Or could it?
Azriel shook his head, demanding those thoughts the leave his mind. Ignoring the spark of jealousy that ran through him. He didn’t know why he cared so much about her.
***
Elain. There was no doubt in Azriels mind that Elain was his. Rhysand had Feyre, Cassian had Nesta, naturally Azriel would have Elain. It didn’t matter that the cauldron had mated her with Lucien. Three sisters, three brothers. Anyone could read what that meant.
Azriel tried not to notice the way she had slunk into the shadows lately. When Feyre first came to the Night Court, the two had struck up a friendship. Azriel couldn’t believe his eyes and ears when he saw how fun and sweet she was with Feyre. It further confirmed his belief that she was so disgusted in his scars that she couldn’t stand to be near him. She had even started to being nicer to Cassian, her training with him going much better than yours with Azriels had.
Once the bond snapped with Feyre and Rhysand, she had taken a small step back from the both of them. When it snapped with Cassian and Nesta, she had backed away from Cass as well. She barely even had a witty retort anymore, choosing to stay quiet most of the time.
Azriel felt like no one else had noticed the change in her. However, he had to admit, so much change had happened in such a short time that he couldn’t blame them for not realizing.
Why did he realize?
Even as she created small friendships with the others, she ignored Azriel. She only looked at him to stare at his hands. He had taken to wearing his gloves around her at all times, but she just stared as if she could see through the fabric. He had spent decades trying to be nice to her, for nothing. She rarely spoke to him, mostly just gave that look to his hands.
She was always going to be cruel to him.
***
Azriel was trying desperately to find a Solecist gift for Elain. He knew he had a reputation for gifts, and he wanted to make sure what he got Elain was perfect. As perfect as she is.
And he had no idea what that would be.
He was wandering the paths of Velaris aimlessly, peering into the stores as he passed, trying to see anything that seemed like Elain. He was getting worried that he would never find anything, turning away from yet another shop.
He stopped when he saw her.
She was inside a little building, large windows open for anyone to see in. He watched as she stood at the front of the room, facing a small group of…children? He angled his body a little to see clearly into the room, listening to her voice come through the window. Her tone was kinder than he had ever heard it. Azriel watched with wide eyes as she demonstrated a defense move-a move he had taught her.
And now she was teaching it to children.
He watched for the rest of the class, amazed at how well the kids grasped onto the concepts she was teaching. He felt his heart skip when her laughter floated out the windows, a bright smile on her face as she looked at one of the students. He had never seen her like this before.
When the class ended he watched as one of the smaller children ran up to her and threw their arms around her legs. Azriel expected her to jump back at the touch, instead watching her bend down and wrap her arms around them. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t believe any of this. He turned and headed back to the House, the gift for Elain long forgotten.
***
He wanted to approach her. He wanted to ask about the children he saw her teaching. He had a sudden desire to know more about her, to see who she may be under that cold exterior.
Azriel should have known she wouldn’t let him.
It was a few days after he had spotted her in town, and he had finally found her alone in the little library. He cleared his throat as he approached her, hoping to get her attention. Of course, she ignored him. He shouldn’t have been hurt by it, but he had been so hopeful after seeing her with the children.
Azriel called her name.
Her head slowly turned to him, eyes blazing. “Yes?” She asked coolly. Azriel have a small smile, refusing to lose his nerve now.
“I saw you, in town? With the children? I-“ He started, cut off by her suddenly standing.
“Spying on me, are you?” She asked, anger all over her face.
“No! No! I was shopping, for Elain, and I happened to walk by!” Azriel was gesturing wildly, not wanting you to think he was following you. “I saw you and then I saw the children and I was interested. You were, nice to them.” He cursed the words as they came out of his mouth, sounding just as sorry as one could imagine.
She scoffed. “Why would I not be? They’re kids.” Her words were sharp and Azriel felt embarrassment creep up his neck.
“Well, you’re not really nice to anyone.” He bit out, temper rising as she laughed.
“You don’t know anything about me.” She said, looking at him curiously.
“Oh? Is that so?” Azriel felt the words coming out before he could stop them, all the things he had wanted to say for years. “Maybe that’s because you don’t let anyone get close to you. I tried to be your friend in the beginning, just for you to be cold and nasty. You are always cold and nasty. I’ve noticed you slowly losing the friends you have made, slinking off into the shadows. Do you ever stop to think that maybe it’s because you’re a cold-hearted bitch?”
She looked like he had slapped her.
“W-what?” She stumbled out, eyes wide.
Now it was Azriels turn to scoff. “Don’t pretend to be innocent now. You rarely speak to anyone except for Rhys, and when you do it’s usually to tell them to leave you alone! Even when I was trying to train you, you lashed out at me for just trying to help. You have always acted like I disgust you, always glaring at my hands. Do they really upset you so much that you have to act like i’m the worst thing you’ve ever encountered? That you have to look at me like that and flinch when I touch you? I tried to be nice to you, just for you to react like that.” He was breathing heavy, all the hurt coming to the surface.
He watched her eyes flash and then suddenly, she was yelling at him. “How dare you? You have no idea what you are talking about. Are you so self centered that you truly believe everything I do is about you? Do you ever stop for one second to think that maybe, just maybe, I have my own shit to deal with?” Her cheeks were colored red, her hands clenching into fists.
Azriel rolled his eyes. “We all have our own shit going on. It doesn’t mean we take all of our miserable feelings out on everyone else!”
“I don’t! I just don’t have any interest in getting close with you. Not everyone has to want to lick the ground you walk on, Shadowsinger.” She spat out the last word like it was dirt in her mouth.
“Why not? What have I ever done that makes you hate me so? What has any of us done? The only one of us you would talk to for years was Rhysand. Did you love him? Are you bitter now that he has a mate and no one will ever be interested in you?” Azriel knew that was a low blow, but his anger overrode him common sense.
“What are you talking about? The relationship between me and Rhysand is none of your business. For a spymaster, you’re truly horrible at reading a situation.” She was angry, angrier than she had been in decades.
Azriel didn’t care. “No one here likes you. They’ve all moved on from their short friendships with you. Even your precious Rhys has found someone else to occupy his time with. Why do you stay here? You have no one.” He felt the pain in his chest at the expression on her face.
She blinked quickly, fighting tears. “You are the cruel one, Azriel.” She turned and ran from the room, leaving him in the aftermath of their fight.
It was the first time she had said his name.
He felt it snap in his chest, the tug to follow you. He could barely react, the shock of it keeping him rooted to the spot. No, he thought. No. Not her. It wasn’t supposed to be her.
The mating bond didn’t care for his concerns.
***
Please let me know how you feel!! Honestly Pt. 2 should be out tonight or tomorrow, i’m pretty far into it. I’m thinking this will be a 3-4 part mini series!!!
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