#i can just imagine the tone of his voice when he says 'yeah...'
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That one scenario where C and MC have a kid has my heart completely 😭 Can we get a follow up for that? How are things going on in the joint household? I'm also very curious to see what C would name their kid 🤭
the hershey’s kisses glinted in the late afternoon sun, crinkled foil catching the golden light that streamed in through the window. aster sat cross-legged on the sofa, a small island of contentment in the messy sprawl of school bags and discarded socks she’d left in her wake.
she was humming under her breath as she unwrapped another piece of chocolate, oblivious to the way her shoes lay in two opposite corners of the room and how her lunchbox sat precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table.
you leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching her with the detached amusement of a parent who knows they’ll have to clean up the mess but hasn’t yet summoned the energy to do so.
C was in the armchair, one foot propped on the edge of the ottoman, clicking through their macbook with half an eye on aster. it was domesticity in its sweetest form, the kind you don’t think about when you’re young and idealistic, imagining love and family like perfect polaroids on a wall.
“did you give her those?” C asked suddenly, their voice louder than the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.
you blinked and set your coffee down, moving closer to inspect the crumpled foil wrappers littered around aster.
“nope,” you said after a beat. “not exactly either of our flavor. that’s… what is that, cherry? we don’t have those in the house.”
C arched a brow, and without missing a beat, turned their full attention to your daughter.
“aster,” they said, voice soft but with a worried edge, “where did you get the chocolates?”
aster’s head snapped up, her chalcedony green eyes lighting up with excitement.
“felix gave them to me!” she said, her grin wide enough to show the little gap where her front tooth had fallen out last week.
C froze, their hand tightening slightly on the edge of their macbook. you, on the other hand, were far more amused.
“felix, huh?” you said, crouching slightly to meet aster’s eye level. “and who’s felix again?”
her grin grew impossibly wider as she happily declared: “my boyfriend!”
you chuckled, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “oh, really? you have a boyfriend now, kleine ster? when did this happen?”
“this morning actually!” aster exclaimed, bouncing a little on the cushions. “he gave me the chocolates at recess and said he liked me, and i said i liked him too, and now we’re boyfriend and girlfriend!”
C’s eye twitched, a muscle jumping just beneath the surface. they sat up straighter, their attention now fully honed on your seven-year-old’s revelation.
“did he now?” they said, their voice tight. “and what else did this... felix boy say?”
aster frowned, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “uh… he said i could have the last red crayon in art class.”
“generous of him,” they muttered darkly, looking distinctly unimpressed.
“C,” you said warningly, but they ignored you, leaning forward with the intense focus of someone about to conduct an interrogation.
“and does this felix… hold your hand?” they asked, their tone too casual to be actually genuine.
“sometimes,” aster admitted, her brows knitting together.
C’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “does he share his lunch with you?”
“yeah, today he gave me his oreos!”
C’s jaw twitched. you pinched the bridge of your nose.
“C,” you said again, a little louder this time. “let it go, darling. they’re just kids.”
but they were too far gone now, leaning forward as though proximity might grant them any sort of control over the situation.
“aster,” they said with all the solemnity of someone at a funeral, “you can’t have a boyfriend. you’re too young. your brain isn’t fully developed. you’ll... you’ll explode! you’ll leave your parents all alone then and it’ll make us very sad.”
aster blinked at them, unwrapping another hershey’s kiss with deliberate slowness.
“i will explode?” she asked, clearly confused by this turn of events.
you rolled your eyes. “no, you wo—”
“yes, you will,” C insisted, cutting you off. “and anyway, you’re not allowed to date anyone until you’re like 30 and paying taxes. it’s a rule.”
“that’s not a rule,” aster said with the stubborn certainty of someone who knew she was right. she really was her parents’ daughter. “and felix is a good boy.”
“‘good,’” C muttered under their breath, glaring at the imaginary felix as though he was lurking in the shadows, waiting to hand their precious little star another chocolate. “i’m going to fight this seven-year-old.”
“C!” you snapped, stepping between them and placing a hand on C’s shoulder. “calm down, my love. it’s harmless.”
C leaned back reluctantly, their gaze flicking between you and aster, who was now watching them like they’d sprouted a second head.
“fine,” they grumbled, crossing their arms over their chest.
***
after dinner, aster sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a tiny instruction manual for building LEGOs with the intensity of someone decoding the human genome. her fingers, small but deft, picked up pieces and slotted them into place, her movements sure and deliberate.
C sat beside her, their long legs folded awkwardly beneath them, one hand bracing their bad knee. their fingers worked slower than hers, more hesitantly. the gap between them—her bright enthusiasm, their cautious quiet—was almost laughable. but C didn’t laugh.
they watched her instead.
aster had inherited their stubbornness, the precision of their thoughts, the way they spoke with certainty even when they were wrong, the hard-headed refusal to back down in the face of a challenge. but she’d also inherited your warmth, your easy charisma, the way people seemed to orbit around you like you were some kind of gravitational force.
she was both of you, but neither of you. something wholly her own. and she shone so brilliantly.
“non,” aster said suddenly, shaking her head. she spoke in a tone that was equal parts exasperated and amused, the way one might speak to a child who couldn’t quite grasp a simple concept. “that piece goes here. look.” she leaned over, plucking a flat blue brick from the pile and snapping it into place on the half-constructed spaceship.
“ah,” C said, their lips quirking into a faint smile. “of course, petite étoile. how foolish of me.”
she beamed proudly, her confidence growing with each small victory.
“it’s okay. you’re still learning,” she said magnanimously, patting their arm. honestly, it amused C greatly to see her reflect you back when you both argued everyday like your life depended on it.
C snorted, shaking their head. “merci, mademoiselle.”
“pas de problème,” she replied breezily, her accent and pronunciation impeccably like a parisian native.
C felt a pang of pride so sharp it was almost painful. french had been one of their gifts to her, a piece of their heritage they had handed down like an heirloom. and she had taken to it effortlessly, as if it had always been hers.
she slipped between languages with a grace that left C in awe, her young mind absorbing everything like a sponge.
“wat is dit?” she asked suddenly, holding up a strange piece they hadn’t encountered yet.
“hmm,” you said from where you were sprawled on the couch, your legs stretched out and a book resting on your chest. you barely looked up as you answered her in dutch, explaining what the piece was and where it might fit.
aster nodded thoughtfully, her small fingers turning the piece over as she considered its possibilities. C watched her, their heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief.
how could someone so small hold so much brilliance? how could she be so much more than they had ever dared to imagine for themself?
“do you think felix likes LEGOs?” aster asked suddenly, breaking their reverie. she was staring at them now, her eyes—C’s eyes, pale green and perceptive—narrowed in thought.
C felt their jaw tighten at the mention of the boy, the ghost of their earlier irritation flickering to life.
“i have no idea,” they said evenly, focusing on the spaceship.
aster tilted her head, clearly unconvinced by their tone.
“he’s nice,” she said firmly, as though this simple fact should erase all of C’s doubts.
“i’m sure he is,” C said, their tone carefully neutral.
you glanced up from your book, smirking slightly as you watched the exchange. let it go, your eyes seemed to say.
but it wasn’t that simple.
it wasn’t about this felix boy, not really. it was about aster, about the inexorable passage of time, about the impossibility of holding on to something as fragile and fleeting as childhood. she was growing up, and there was nothing C could do to stop it.
C reached for another LEGO brick, their fingers brushing against aster’s. she looked up at them, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“tu vas bien?” she asked, her voice soft and earnest.
the question caught them off guard. for a moment, they didn’t know how to respond. how could they explain the tangled mess of emotions that had been simmering inside them all day? how could they tell her that the thought of her growing up terrified them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate?
“i’m fine, petite étoile,” they said eventually, forcing a smile. “just tired.”
she seemed to accept this, turning her attention back to the spaceship. but C couldn’t help noticing the small furrow in her brow, the way her hands moved more slowly now, as if she was trying to puzzle something out.
they watched her in silence, their heart aching with a strange, bittersweet kind of love.
***
later, when the spaceship was complete and aster had been tucked into bed, C found themself sitting on the edge of your shared bed, their head in their hands.
“okay,” you said, sitting beside them. “do you want to talk about what exactly is bothering you, my love?”
they sighed, looking up at you now.
“it’s just… strange,” they said, their voice low and tired. “she’s growing up so fast. too fast. i feel like i blinked, and suddenly she’s not my little girl anymore.”
you stayed quiet, letting them find the words.
“i still remember holding her in my arms for the first time,” they continued, their voice thick with emotion. “i remember her first steps, her first word, the first time she looked at me and called out for me. and now… now she’s talking about boyfriends and whatnot.”
they let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through their hair. “i didn’t have this. a proper childhood. a father who cared. i don’t know what i’m doing half the time. i just… i look at her, and i love her so much it terrifies me. so much so that i still don’t understand how my father could—”
“hey,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on their arm. “you’re nothing like him. you’re such a wonderful parent, C. she loves you so much. you can see it every time she looks at you. and yeah, it’s hard watching her grow up. but that’s the deal. you love them, and you let them go, little by little, so they can become who they’re meant to be.”
C nodded slowly, their eyes softening as they looked at you. “i know you’re right.”
you leaned in, pressing a kiss to their temple. “of course i’m right, i always am.”
they rolled their eyes, but a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.
“do you think…” they hesitated, the tips of their ears turning adorably red. “do you think we should have another one?”
“another what?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.
they scowled, burying their face in your neck.
“you know what i mean,” they mumbled, their voice muffled. “don’t make me say it out loud.”
you laughed, stroking their hair. “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”
but you already knew the answer.
#‘aster’ is taken from the greek word for star#it can also mean flower but i thought star was more appropriate#i love writing domesticity as well#not very adept at writing child characters tho but i’ll get there eventually#if: the ballad of the young gods#interactive fiction#interactive novel#interactive story#twine wip#ro: c lacroix#ro scenarios
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Hellooo for the Spotify drabble challenge
#5
💜
Hi June! Congratulations, you got So Long, London by Taylor Swift. I don't see how any of this could possibly be bad...
Little info since I didn't put the lyric in the text: this is particularly based on the line "and you say I abandoned the ship/But I was going down with it"
“Can I ask... why did you give up on us?” Wille’s voice breaks through the quiet.
Snow flurries around them, and Simon watches it for a bit, watches how it blankets the world around them. If he lets himself, Simon can almost imagine them in a different time, a different ball, a different escape that had led them to the exact same spot they're standing now: looking out over the quad while the party continues inside.
They’re a decade older now, and Simon likes to think he’s a decade wiser. But the wise thing wouldn’t have been to follow Wille out. Yet here he is.
But a decade earlier Simon would have rolled his eyes at the question, maybe even scoffed, because how dare he even ask that? How did Wille not see how in love Simon still was? That it was never about them, that it was everything else pulling him, pulling them under.
The truth of it, though, is much simpler. So now Simon just smiles sadly at Wille, as he watches the snowflakes settle in his hair. As he sees the grooves that 10 years under the crown have etched in his face. Simon feels guilty, all of a sudden. For keeping this from him for so long, for never telling Wille how he...
Simon can feel Wille looking at him, waiting for an answer, and for some reason, he feels like he’s laid bare.
“I never gave up, Wille.” He looks back out over the quad, unable to look at Wille as he admits what he'd carried for years. “Do you remember the last time we saw each other? You told me –”
“To have a good summer.” Wille lets out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah, I remember.”
“I... part of me had hoped that you'd stop me. Ask me to stay, to just give us one more chance. That you’d... you’d realize how being Crown Prince was killing you. I had hoped that breaking up with you would make you see that.
“And then when you didn't, I had this fantasy that you'd run after the car.
“I know it's silly. And dumb. But I pictured you somehow catching up and asking me again, and I ... I would have said yes, Wille.
“Anyways,” Simon continues in a much lighter tone, as if he hasn’t imagined that scenario over and over again for the last ten years. As if admitting this isn’t the hardest thing he's ever done. “When you didn't I realized that this was the life you chose, Crown and Country, and that I had no place in it."
“It would have killed you.” Wille’s voice is strained, like it’s taking every ounce of self-control he is to get the words out, but still, Simon can hear the surprise, the disbelief.
Simon laughs, half-heartedly, puffs of white in front of him. “Yeah. It would have.
“But maybe,” and at this, Simon takes a deep breath, “maybe it would have been worth it. To be with you.”
He swallows thickly, past the lump on his throat, and looks up at Wille. Wille, who's staring at him with wide eyes, whose voice is barely audible when he asks, “do you still believe that?”
Simon nods.
Send me Wilmon + a number and get a ficlet based on a song from my Wrapped!
#spotify wrapped challenge#wilmon#young royals#young royals fanfic#yr fanfic#young royals fanfiction#yr fanfiction#wilmon fanfic#wilmon fanfiction#simon eriksson#prince wilhelm#yr ficlet#young royals ficlet
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notes: time is a construct that bten!reader no longer understands. anyway, yes hellow, late gojo birthday fic that i am pretending that i'm not posting on megumi's birthday LMAO.
takes place in the same universe as beyond the unending night, however reading that fic is not necessary, all you need to know is that reader has a CT that can rewind time. slight and implied reader x gojo if you're squinting. also. reader is very unreliable narrator (there are some things in the narration that gojo responds to because reader is unaware they said it aloud oops.) not proofread.
wc: 944
“Your birthday was a couple days ago?”
Gojo tilts his head toward you, expression passive for a split second before a broad grin spreads across his face. “It was! How did you know! Wait, let me guess, you—”
“The students,” you supply flatly before he can make any outlandish suggestions regarding how you happened across the information. “Yuta-kun mentioned it.”
There’s a slight pucker to Gojo’s lips, but it’s gone almost instantly as he remarks. “Oh Yuta… He’s always been an exemplary student! Even going so far as to remember his dear old teacher’s birthday…”
You stare at Gojo. There’s a trap here. Bait. It’s not well hidden either, if his exaggerated tone is any indication. You consider telling him straight up: it’s not possible to remember something you never knew in the first place. But instead, you decide to indulge him. “Do people usually not remember?”
Now that you say that, you find the words hard to believe. You can barely call yourself a part of jujutsu society, but there’s no denying that Gojo is something of a big deal. There’s no way that these illustrious ‘higher ups’ would forget the birthday of someone as important as Satoru Gojo.
“It’s not that they don’t remember,” Gojo says, “it’s that they just don’t care.”
The nonchalance in his voice stuns you, more so than the fact that you cannot detect even a hint of bitterness in it. They… don’t care? You want to be in denial, to think that that simply cannot be true. And yet…
You cannot deny it.
Not when you know what you do of the top brass.
“Well, not the students,” Gojo adds, fondness seeping into his tone as the tiniest smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Threw me a party and everything. As expected of students of the Great Teacher Gojo!”
He puffs his chest out a little, clearly pleased, no doubt proud.
“...did you do anything else?” you ask. Knowing someone as whimsical as Gojo, you can imagine him spending the day as he pleased, going from sweet shop to sweet shop spending exorbitant amounts of money on any and every sugary item he could possibly get his hands on.
“Nope.”
You blink at him. “What.”
“I was waaaaaay too busy to do anything else,” Gojo says with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I’m lucky that the students love me so much that they took on a couple extra missions just so we could party for a half hour.”
Gojo’s words have you gawking at him, slack jawed and in awe. You’re well aware that he’s a busy guy, but to only have had a half hour of free time on his birthday to celebrate is just…
“Don’t make that face.” His voice is quiet. Gentle. “It’s fine; I’m used to it. Just a part of being an adult, you know?”
He’s not wrong, but…
Somehow, it doesn’t sit well with you.
“....you’re done with everything you have to do today, right?” you ask, reaching into your pocket to check the time; it’s nearly midnight.
“Yeah?” Gojo answers, and while he sounds mostly amused, you think you can hear the smallest hint of confusion. “You thinking of having a late night snack together to make up for missing my birthday? How romantic of you!”
“Not exactly,” you shoot back without missing a beat, but Gojo doesn’t seem to be disappointed by you rebuffing him. You outstretch your palm toward him and he inclines his head down slightly to show that he’s looking down at it.
Gojo hums. He knows what you’re thinking. Of course he does. “You know that’s technically against the rules.”
“And?” you ask as you stare back at him.
“You could get in biiiiiiig trouble, you know.”
Your gaze doesn’t waver.
“Could even be sentenced to death for it!”
Your hand doesn’t move.
Gojo tilts his head to the side before heaving a sigh and shaking his head. He raises his hand, but rather than take yours, he reaches up higher and moves to flick your forehead. That would work just as well, and for a split second you gather your cursed energy, ready to use your technique, but—
You merely wince and Gojo tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow as your energy quickly dissipates.
“Change your mind?” he asks.
“Wasn’t sure if you were actually going to do it,” you answer honestly. Did he actually flick you or did he just ‘pretend’ to? There wouldn't have been any point if he pretended.
“What do you think?”
You frown as a playful, yet menacing grin spreads across Gojo's face. He knows full well that you can't tell, especially if you can't even see the point of contact.
“Well wishes aside, the only other thing I can really offer you is time,” you deadpan. It wasn't like you were going to be stupid and give him a week or even a month, but…
Gojo wags his finger at you, tutting. “No, not true! There's something else!”
You give him a pointed look. What else could you possibly give?
“Well, it's really more like an IOU,” he explains airily, before his tone shifts, growing quieter and more serious. “Just get stronger. Strong enough to take on missions just like me and maybe next year we can have a longer party.”
You sigh. His suggestion is more practical, more useful in the long run, and while you can agree with what he's proposed… It's his birthday. He could afford to be a little more selfish.
“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile ever wide and absolutely ominous. “I'll keep that in mind next time.”
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hi, i've been readin dragon ball for the first time these past few weeks and just finished the part where they're on planet namek. I Understand What You See In Him.
he's fucking something right??? ohhh straight up, you should see (and hear) him in the anime as well if you think you have the full picture. i've been absolutely obsessed forever
youtube
#ask#anon#i'm a little tired so i'm sorry if my response is a bit toned-back#but yeah god.....#my first experience seeing him for the first time was through an old crt playing through DBZ Budokai 1#which is why i'm kinda obsessive with that game in particular#i remember one thought at the time being like ''wow dudes can look pretty and dress like that? wow...''#pretty much a core memory into me learning i'm bisexual#also can't say it enough regarding how much i love his monster form. and the voice. and everything.#he's a lot#i'm hoping he gets announced for Sparking Zero soon#the recent trailer mostly showed off characters under the master/trainee theming#so i imagine if they do show off zarbon it's gotta be one involving transformations of some kind right#guess we'll see. i'm curious to see if they have him all in one character or if they split him up#it'll be a little weird but. hey as long as both his forms are there i'm not complaining#just hope that when it comes out (and if he's in it) someone rips his models#zarbon has really bad luck when it comes to being ripped#or atleast on models resource. then again models resource is a big pain in the ass for getting specific models#BUT YEAH. one thing i like that the anime does (and something that stay's permanent to Zarbons design) is making his arm warmers pink#like. it does so much to his design in a way i cannot explain#i've gotten some dreams recently where like. zarbons there but i can never remember to what extent. like i know he was there atleast#its fucked up im afraid.#anyway thank you for the Zarbon ask anon :)#i see a Whole Lot in him. i'd say ''i think he's nice'' but that's underselling how much i crush for him
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▷ Premature
Sypnosis . How they react to getting caught jerking off/How they jerk off when you’re not around. / Pairings . (Separate) Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Geto Suguru x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader, & Nanami Kento x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, masturbation, pervertedness, praise, needy men, filth, dirty talk, non-curse au, degrading, established relationships etc. / wc . 5.5k
A/N: not proofread in the slightest— I apologize in advance for the errors. This is a mix of two requests; one from my lovely 👍anon; If it's not too much trouble, would you take a request for how JJK men jack it to reader? To a picture, their thoughts, or maybe reader asks them perhaps? & jjk men getting caught jerking off [MDNI]
★ Toji Fushiguro
He’s the kinda guy that you could never be on the phone with past midnight. Why? Cause’ suddenly his voice is getting deeper, his comments are growing more suggestive, and he’s got a hand wrapped around his cock as he gets off to the sound of your voice.
What the hell are you even talking about? He’s got no idea, all he knows is that your soft tone, laced with such a faint sleepiness to it, has his cock aching within his hand.
You wouldn’t even notice he’s jerking off for a while either, not until he groans out your name.
The sound makes your entire body freeze and all you can do is stare at your phone, tipping your head to the side curiously before you tap on your phone to bring the ongoing phone call to the forefront of your screen.
You’d get quiet and he’d get louder, grunting out an all too deep, “Fuck,” That has you smiling to yourself a little. Especially when you hear him grunting as if he were trying to keep his sounds in.
But, your moment of confidence only lasts until the deep baritone of his voice snaps you out of it, “Keep fuckin’ talkin’, doll,” Toji orders and god does he sound sexy like this.
There’s the faintest hint of need in his voice that has you biting your lower lip to hold back the toothy smile trying to present itself on your face. Gulping, “Toji…” You murmur, and your ears don’t miss how he sighs heavily.
On his end, he’s got his legs sprawled out and his head tosses back at the sound of you calling his name, “What?” He’d huff, almost as if what he’s doing hasn’t become rather obvious to you.
Your voice is suddenly closer to the phone and it makes Toji grunt, “You okay over there? Y’sound… busy,” You utter teasingly.
“Mmmh… mhm, m’fine, jus’-, hahh, keep… keep talkin’,” His long pauses and heavy exhales were making you squirm on your end. You could only imagine how he looked right now— big hand wrapped around his cock as he gave himself quick tugs to the sound of your voice.
You start to shift around in your bed and almost forget to respond as you listen closely. Turning your volume up, you could hear almost everything. His sounds became vivid, a messy noise of spit heard as Toji wets his cock up in ways he’s known you to, his hand jerking his dick in quicker pulls due to the slickness of his saliva and precum mixing together.
“Hahhh, fuck,” Toji pants and starts slowing his hand down just so he can speak properly, “Why’d y’stop talkin’? Hm?”
“I uh… I thought I heard something, sorry,” You hum as you fake cluelessness. “Anywho, what was I saying again? Do you remember?”
Ah, you’d decided to test him thinking he wasn’t paying attention at all to what you were discussing earlier. Jokes on you, Toji knows how to multitask (sometimes), “Uh, you were tellin’ me about your day or somethin’,” He hums casually.
“Riight,” You chuckle. An idea pops into your mind and you decide to use his lack of full attention to what you were previously discussing to your advantage, “Well, me and my friends went to this new sweet spot today.”
“Yeah? ‘Nd what else, doll?” Toji sounded so clearly occupied but he was trying his best to just get you to keep talking. Every word that left your lips went straight to his cock.
You grin, “Well, it was pretty hot today so I got lucky they had popsicles! The one I got was suuper big, could’ hardly fit it in my mouth,” You explain.
Was this story true? Not exactly, but when else do you get the opportunity to tease your boyfriend like this?
Toji’s eyes flicker as he processes what the hell you just said to him, his cock twitching at the thought of your lips parting to take something large into your mouth— you knew what the hell you were doing to him and he was starting to pick up on it.
Swallowing thickly, Toji hums, “Oh yeah? Reminds me of a couple of other things that can’t really fit in your mouth…”
“Hm? Like what, Toji?” You murmur innocently.
Your voice had softened by a lot and it drove him crazy. Such a clear false innocence laced into your question had the man picturing your expression. The way you’re probably sitting there with your eyes all wide and curious, batting those pretty lashes of yours like you don’t know what the hell you’re asking him.
Scoffing, “Don’t play dumb, y’know what the hell m’talkin’ about.” Toji drawls out, voice a bit rougher with you.
You ignore his little attitude and let out a giggle, “Do I?”
“Yeah, y’do,” Your boyfriend huffs. His breathing is noticeably heavier and little did you know, he had his head resting back and his eyes on the ceiling as he fisted his cock rapidly, slick sounds masked by his voice every time he spoke.
As if to make his state worse, your voice dips into something more sultry, “I’m really not sure Toji… What else is too big to fit in my mouth? Hm?” You hum.
“Fuck-,” Toji lets out a slight gasp, his breath stuttering for a moment before he grunts, “My cock, baby. Y’know this.”
The way he gave up on getting you to say it first has you smiling, “Mmmh, I dunno Toji,” God you were saying his name too much and it was making his balls ache, “I had your cock down my throat perfectly fine the other day if I recall correctly.”
“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” Toji abruptly rasps out, making you gulp as you felt a throb in your core, “Where’d y’learn to talk like that, huh?”
You snicker, “From my boyfriend who enjoys jerking off to the sound of my voice.”
And just like that, Toji can feel his orgasm approaching— damn you and your slick remarks, you only ever acted like this over the phone. You knew better in person but, he didn’t mind right now.
“Hahh, fuck you,” Toji fires back.
“You want to right now, don’t you?” You were getting confident all of a sudden and he groans before shutting his mouth just to listen to you speak. “Wanna feel my tongue on your cock, huh?”
His hand squeezes onto his cock and a strangled grunt leaves the back of his throat, “Shit-,” Toji’s haw drops a little, “Don’t stop talkin’, m’close.”
“Yeah? Gonna cum thinkin’ about fuckin’ my throat, right?” You murmur.
And he definitely was, it’s all he could think about right now. Especially with how bold you were being, how could he not picture you on your knees and taking his cock down your throat as he face fucks you just to teach you a lesson about talking to him like this?
Then you just kept going, “…Or jus’ from me talking? Y’like my voice that much, Toji?” You ask.
He’s on his end just nodding as his brows furrow— when the hell was he this damn needy for you? “Yes, fuck… fuckin’ hell, yes, I fuckin’ love your voice baby,” Toji tells you.
God you wish you could see him right now. You just know he’s sweating, cockhead angry and leaking at your every word, big thighs parted yet jittery as he gets closer and closer.
“C’mon then big guy, cum f’me so you can come over,” Suddenly your tone is aroused and Toji’s squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.
“S’late, doll,” He argues.
You tut, “Yeah well listenin’ to you jerk off turned me on so now you’ve gotta come over ‘nd deal with it.”
Some nerve you had. As if you wouldn’t be the one all teary eyed and pouty after a few kisses from him…
Yet, Toji’s not thinking about that right now, mindlessly agreeing just because he needs you right now and his hand is starting not to cut it anymore, “Hahhh, alright-, shit. Whatever the fuck you want, doll. I’ll be over in ten.”
You snicker, “Make it five.”
He swears you’ll be the death of him.
Scoffing, “Needy ass girl… agh… can’t wait ten minutes?”
“You couldn’t wait til’ I got off the phone to jerk off?” You argue.
He’s smirking despite the slight irritation that creeps up on him due to how bratty you were being, “…Shut up.”
You smile, “Come shut me up.”
“Oh I’m about to.”
★ Geto Suguru
Moaning your name as if that’ll cause your hand to be wrapped around his cock instead of your panties— Suguru uses your clothes to get off when you’re not around.
He doesn’t bother to call you or text you. It’s usually late when he gets like this so he just uses the lace panties you “accidentally” left over at his place.
Sometimes he’s got the fabric wrapped around his cock as he jerks off and other times he’s got it pressed up to his nose, inhaling what little of your scent he could get as his hips fuck into the O-shape he’s created with his hand. If he inhales strong enough, he swears he can still smell your pussy and that alone makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Fuuuck,” Geto moans unashamed into the air. What’s he gotta hold his voice back for? Even if you were to ever catch him like this, he knows you’re just as much of a perv as he is.
His hand has a strong grip on his base as he gets himself off with your panties. Just thinking about how the fabric clung to your cunt for hours on end has his cock dripping pre onto the floor.
“Fuckin’ miss you, agh,” Suguru would groan thoughtlessly into the air, recalling the last time he had your pussy on his tongue, how sweet how tasted, how addicting you are.
Within said imagination, he doesn’t even realize he’s moving your panties to his mouth, his tongue seeping out and pressing into the fabric as if that’ll give him a taste of you again. Is it the same as sucking on your cunt til’ your legs are shaking? No, of course not. Does it make Geto’s hand milk the fuck out of his cock? Well, yes.
Light and faint whines slip past his lips, “Ha-ahh… taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” Geto groans like you’re right there with him.
Shit, he wants you on his tongue again. He can never get enough of it— the way your pussy sloshes all over his mouth every time he eats you out, how you whine his name and beg him for a break, or even the way you get greedy as your orgasm nears and you start bucking your hips against him.
Either way, it’s all he can think about right now. And it doesn’t get any better when his eyes open and looks down at himself, your panties clung tightly in between his teeth as he envisions you below him with a mouth wide and ready for him.
Oh the way you always take his cock down your throat never fails to make his eyes cross. You’d suck on him like your life depended on it, moaning against his shaft whenever he started thrusting into your mouth or whining when he forces your head down some more.
And he’s so close as he thinks about it more— picturing your wet lips parted around his flushed tip, drool slipping out the corner of your mouth, and your tongue slipping against him languidly-
“Suguru?” The sound of your voice makes him moan in surprise before he’s turning his head to look at you.
Even caught in the act, he only gets turned on even more. His brows tense and he pants heavily as his eyes meet yours, quickly noticing the way your gaze dropped down to his achingly hard cock.
You were supposed to be asleep out on his living room couch where he’d left you moments ago but yet, here you were— standing with your eyes all wide and curious, taking careful steps toward the man as you cross your arms, and giving him this look that drives him crazy.
You gulp loudly as you look up to your boyfriend’s face, “Are those my panties in your mouth?”
“M-Mmhm,” Geto hums with an impatient nod of his head.
Your lashes bat at the man before you find yourself standing right in front of him, placing but a single hand on his chest before taking the other and removing the lace from the man’s mouth.
“That’s filthy Sugu,” You whisper carefully.
The way his lips part and how his eyes lower on you, a groan slipping from him due to how close your body was and the way you’d touched him so softly. “Uhuh, I know, baby,” His voice has the faintest shake to it as he mumbles out an answer.
Smiling slightly, you keep your eyes directly up on his despite his hand not stopping on his cock for even a second, “You could’ve woken me up if you needed me, Suguru.” You utter.
He cracks a lazy grin for a moment, “I jus’ needed your panties.”
You frown and your brows tense a bit, “…Pervert.” You whisper, watching how his body twitches in reaction before he’s leaning his face down and closer to yours.
“Mhm,” Geto hums, “Yeahhh, tha’s me, princess. Keep tellin’ me how fuckin’ nasty I am.” Your boyfriend purrs, earning a wide eyed look from you as you gaze up at him in surprise.
You comply, trailing a single finger down along his chest as you tip your head to the side and speak, “You’re filthy Sugu, gettin’ off with my panties… Bet you wanted to get caught like this too.”
“Maybe,” Geto tells you with that awfully cocky grin on his face, “But you’re not any better. I caught you fingerin’ yourself to my voice last week.”
You gulp, “T-That was…”
He’s leaning down past your face and you flinch as his lips make sudden contact with your neck, “Different, huh?” He rasps out, hot breath tickling the side of your neck.
Tense, your hand stops moving along his body and you angle yourself to look down at how aggressively he’s fisting his cock right now, “Yeah…” You murmur, completely distracted by the sight below you.
His hand got faster on his cock, quicker tugs made the longer you stared down at him and cum leaking from his tip as he grunted against your neck.
“Sure it was,” Geto whispers, but his voice is a lot lighter than you expected it to be. “Now are you gonna just stand here and watch me jerk off or are y’gonna get on your knees ‘nd take care of me?” He asks, lifting his face a little to kiss the space below your ear.
You unconsciously lick your lips the longer you stare down at his cock, watching him drip onto the floor and make the slightest mess before you chuckle, “That’s no way to ask, Sugu.”
He scoffs against you but you don’t miss the quietest whine leaving his throat before he speaks, “Funny cause I wasn’t fuckin’ askin’.”
“Oh?” You snicker at your boyfriend before turning your head to meet his gaze, “You’re mean when you get caught in the act…”
He stares you down and resists every neuron in his body that’s telling him to press his lips into yours, “Am I?”
“Mhm, as if you’re not embarrassed,” You tease. God you were driving him crazy— looking at him so longingly, your lips nearly on his, your body warm with how close you were to him and your hand low and near his cock.
Fuck, one more touch from you and he’d be cumming in seconds. “I’m not.” Geto replies to you.
You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second and his gaze drops, “You sure? Y’know how long I was watchin’ you before I said something?”
“Fuck, how long baby?” He practically mumbles. He needed your touch so badly, you were too close to not be all over him right now and his restraint was waning by the second.
“A few minutes, saw you puttin’ my panties to your nose ‘nd everything,” As you speak, your hands are lifting and his eyes are widening.
Your arms wrap around his neck and he’s forced to stop his hand on his cock before he blows his load too soon, “Yeah?” He breathes.
You nod and inch closer, “Mhm.”
“Bet that got you all hot ‘nd bothered, huh?” Geto whispers, cocking his head to the side before placing a hand to your waist and holding you tenderly, “That’s why you said somethin’ right? Cause y’like watchin’ me like this?”
Your eyes were on his lips now and you’d half-heard everything he just said, shrugging out a little, “Maybe…” In response before your lips are finally on his.
Geto can’t even control the groan that pours out of him while his lips move over yours, tongue slotting into your mouth and hand squeezing onto your waist as if to tell you not to move.
The kiss doesn’t even last that long before he’s letting out a whine as his cockhead brushes against your body, “Fuck-, enough of this teasin’, I need you princess.”
★ Gojo Satoru
You were going to take it upon yourself to ask your husband how he jerks off when you’re not around but instead of answering your text with an explanation like a normal person— he sends you a video.
Unfiltered, less than a second after clicking on the video, you’re met with his glistening cock on your screen. Slicked with spit and precum trailing along his veins, a pretty pink tip twitching for some attention, and a bright flash from his cellphone giving you the perfect view of his lower half.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t squeeze your legs together as soon as you started the video. Then there’s his voice that you hear about five seconds in.
“Wanted to see how I jerk off, huh? Dirty girl,” Oh his tone was low with you, the sound filling your ears as you bat your lashes and gulped. Thank god for your headphones, despite being home alone, because you could hear every little sound. “You’re lucky I was already in the middle of it when you texted, y’know.”
Although he can’t hear you, you scoff, “Slut.”
“Got’ this hard thinkin’ about you,” Gojo whispers suddenly, his slender fingers wrapping around his cock carefully, “I miss you, pretty girl,” His words and the way he’s slowly touching himself for you has your body hot and it’s only been a few seconds.
Pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, your eyes narrow on his hand— how tenderly it slides up and up until he reaches his tip, the way his thumb runs in between the slit of his cockhead and he lets out a hiss.
Then his hand lowers and the sound that follows is so wet, “Fuuck, I wish it was you touchin’ me right now. You always make me feel s’good,” Gojo pants unintentionally, “Miss your lips on me too. How long’s it been? A week? Fuckin’ hate leavin’ you for work…”
You chuckle lightly at his moment of rambling but the way his hand picks up in speed ever so slightly has your smile fading and your focus returning. Sometimes you wonder how he even fits inside you— his cock is so long and from his base to his tip, he looks like he’d split you open (he does).
Your thighs are squeezing together again and you’re starting to miss him the more you watch, the vivid and deep sound of Gojo humming your name causing a chill to slip down your spine.
And you swear you were about to get to the best part of the video he’s sent because his hand was moving at a quickened pace but you’re interrupted by an incoming video call from the man in question.
You practically jump out of your skin due to your ringtone before you scramble to answer it.
Batting your eyelashes as the call connects, you swallow hard, “H-Hello-“
“Knowin’ you’re watchin’ that video isn’t enough f’me,” Gojo huffs out— now he’s got the camera propped up for you and you can see most of his body.
His shirt is long gone, same with his sweats, his legs are spread far and wide, hard and throbbing cock standing straight up as his hand tugs at it in needy little pulls. Gojo’s got his head tossed back and you have the clearest view of his sweaty Adam’s apple, a slip of sweat sliding down along his chest.
He’s panting like crazy and his hand is fucking his cock much more aggressively than he was in that video you’d been watching, “Show me somethin’ baby, I fuckin’ need you,” Gojo huffs impatiently as he shifts his head back into place to meet your gaze on his screen.
You gulp, “S-Satoru, I-“
“Please?” He whines so suddenly and it has your pussy throbbing, especially with how he lifts his hips into his hand because of simply looking at your face, “Wanna see somethin’ pretty, show me your pussy, please?”
It's almost embarrassing how fast you move for your needy husband, going to prop your own phone up similar to how he’s done his and then discarding your clothes in a heartbeat.
“Spread yourself apart f’me, baby,” Gojo groans out his instructions and you’re following his every word— parting your legs wider and moving two finds to your cunt to spread your pussy apart for him.
“Mmh, like this, ‘Toru?” You utter with a slightly shaky hand and an embarrassed expression.
You see the way Gojo’s jaw sinks a little and how his brows furrow as he fists his cock faster, almost eagerly, “Juus’ like that, sweetheart-, fuck. I miss bein’ inside you,” Gojo says before tilting his head to really study your cunt, “Look how wet y’re f’me ‘nd I’m not even there, shit.”
You’ve got your pointer and ring finger holding your cunt open and you shift your middle finger to give yourself the slightest bit of relief, “It’s cause of your video..”
“Yeah?” Gojo smiles, “Y’liked watchin’ me jerk off?”
His hand slows, palm steadily traveling down along his shaft as a whine leaves him. Your pretty pussy on full display for him and making his balls twitch. He wanted to be fucking you full of him so badly.
“Uhuh,” Your softer tone hits his ears and Gojo grunts.
“Shiiit,” He breathes out before biting his bottom lip. He’d started to drool without even realizing it and his cock was dripping in cum already, “Look at that pussy leak f’me-, holy fuck.” Your husband moans, “My voice get you like this too?”
You’ve started to tease yourself with merely one finger and you can’t move your eyes away from his needy cock, “M-Mhm…” You hum.
“Aww, baby…” Gojo coos. Then you were slipping two fingers into yourself and trying your best to get off along with him, “Look at your fingers tryin’ t’please you like how I do,” He cracks a smile, “Doesn’t feel the same, does it?”
Shaking your head, “N-No, ‘Toru. I need you.”
“Hahh, need you too baby,” Gojo moans, hand picking back up. The faintest plp plp plp followed his movements as bits of cum dripped from his cockhead and onto the floor, “Look at how fuckin’ hard I am cause of you.” He huffs just before glancing down to himself.
Ah, he was making a mess but he was a bit too dazed with arousal to pay any mind to it right now.
You bite your lip and hum before tipping your head back and shutting your eyes, “Mmmh…”
“M’gonna get home and fuck you til’ we both pass out, I swear.” Gojo huffs. His voice is airy and his hand is getting a bit messy now.
Your lips part and you exhale heavily, “Can’t wait.”
“Yeah? Y’can’t wait huh?” Your husband grunts, practically fucking his cock up into his hand at this point, “Maybe I’ll get ya' pregnant so I have an excuse not t’leave you like this.”
Your legs start to close a little and you moan, “Satoru, m-mgh…”
“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” He groans pornographically into the air, “Wish I was cummin’ inside you, fuckin’ you nice ‘nd full, watchin’ you make a mess on me-, hahh… agh…” His lips quiver a bit as he gets close and he’s panting so hard that the camera is starting to fog up a little.
“T-Toru,” You whine for him— missing him oh so desperately now that you’re nearing your own orgasm.
“Yeah, mhm, m’here baby,” Gojo chants, breath heavy and hand jolting up and down his cock fervently, “C’mon, cum with me. You can do it f’me pretty girl.”
You’re nodding, he’s nodding— both of you are getting there together and whining each other’s names. Gojo’s veins are popping up on his hand with how tightly his gripping onto his cock and his mouth hangs open, eyelids heavy and vision blurring while he moans your name.
“Miss you so fuckin’ much,” Gojo groans finally before he glances to his phone to see you releasing all over your fingers— the sight leads him to cum right then and there with his kegs trembling slightly.
Fuck, he needed to get home soon.
★ Nanami Kento
You were surprised to walk in on your boss jerking off.
“Oh fuck,” Echoed into the air, his voice thick with lust as he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered his office yet.
With the way his desk was, you could see everything. His muscular thighs parted like a damn slut, cock barely tugged out of his slacks, big veiny hand working to bring himself to an orgasm.
Truth be told, it’s your fault he’s like this— his cute lil’ assistant, walking around in those tight ass skirts he’s asked you not to wear thousands of times over again. And yet you do it anyway. Maybe because you know where it gets you with your boss or maybe because you wanted a situation exactly like this.
Sure, he’s your boss but he’s also the same man that fucks you til’ you can’t walk straight whenever you request him to do so.
But this? Well, you’ve never been so aroused by walking in on a man pleasing himself before. It had to be his deep groans of your name or even the size of his cock and how it exceeded the size of his hand, how you could picture your own hands around it and how you know your hands would be so pale in comparison.
Nanami’s got his eyes shut and he’s huffing and puffing through his nose, chest rising and falling rapidly the more he stokes his cock. All he can think about is you and the way you bent over in front of him less than thirty minutes ago.
He had half a mind to call you into his office and tell you to bend over his desk the same way— thinking of fucking your tight cunt til’ you’re making too much noise and he has to shove two thick fingers in your mouth to shut you up.
“Fuuck,” It’s rare you even hear him curse so to hear his mouth so vulgar now has you swallowing hard before you lock his office door with a slight click following.
His eyes bat open and he doesn’t bother stopping because he already knew it was you who’d walked in, you’re the only one who does so without knocking.
“Sir?” You utter gently, making his face twist up in arousal.
“Here, now.” Is all he can grunt out to you.
You’re moving toward him obediently with your panties soaking the closer you get. “Mr.-“
“Kento,“ He utters, “Please, fuck-, just… hahh, say my name, sweetheart.”
“Kento,” You correct in a sultry tone, “I didn’t know you were… occupied in here. What if someone else walked in-“
Nanami rolls his eyes at you and then lets off a scoff, “No one but you would,” He huffs, “Now get on my desk.”
You freeze as you find yourself standing right beside his desk, “What?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself-, just…” He trails off a little once his eyes meet yours and you watch his lashes flutter while his brows pinch together, “Oh fuck, I need… hah, fuuck.”
You chew on your bottom lip before smirking and stepping past his desk, closer to him, “Need what, Ken? Get it out…” You whisper.
“Damn vixen,” Nanami groans as he tosses his head back.
Glancing down at his cock, you watch as his tip grows a bit white— cum peeping out from his fat cockhead and making you swallow thickly.
You then look back up to his face and start leaning down, placing your hands on the armrests of his chair to keep yourself up before uttering, “Do you want me to touch you?”
His response is instant, “God, yes.”
“How?” You murmur with a smirk, shifting your legs so that they straddle one of his, “How do you want me to touch you?”
Nanami opens his eyes and yet again and he grunts at how ridiculously close you are to him, “Anywhere.”
You tease, “Anywhere?”
“Yes, hurry up,” Nanami pleads. His voice nearly went desperate for you and you swore you heard something needy underlining in his tone.
Playing off of that, “Needy are we?” You comment before seating yourself on his thigh.
“Yes,” He gulps and begins to stammer while your arms wrap around his neck, “J-Just-“
Oh he can’t even finish his request before your lips are pressing into his neck and he’s groaning loudly. Cock aching for you whilst your lips move along his tensed skin. Each kiss from you earned groan after groan from him, the sound vibrating against his throat and his hand squeezing his cock tighter.
“Fuck,” Nanami curses yet again as you kiss below his sharp jawline.
“You’re one naughty man, y’know. Did you want me to catch you like this?” You murmur against his warm skin, feeling the way he tenses up to your voice.
Nodding and humming a carefully little, “Mhm,” In response, Nanami’s completely at your mercy now, silently begging for you to continue down the path you’re on.
You smile and glance down to his hand still working his cock, cunt clenching around nothing the longer you stare, “Ken…”
“Y-Yes?” He stutters a bit and mentally curses himself for it— he knows you’ll tease him more about it later.
Planting another kiss beneath his jaw, you chuckle, “You’re drippin’ onto the floor,” You utter so seductively that he just groans and throws his head back again. “Makin’ suuch a big mess all because of… what? Hm?”
“You,” He huffs, “You and that… that fucking skirt,” Nanami says through gritted teeth.
“Well,” You whisper with a slight smile still on your face, “If you have a problem with it you can always take it off of me.”
His free hand is gripping onto your waist faster than you have time to react and you let out a slight noise in surprise. Nanami’s lifting his head and angling himself to your neck, lips latching onto you as he lets out a groan like a man starved.
“Yeah?” He hushes out.
Then he’s pushing you back slightly and releasing his cock, both of you soon shoved to your feet with how quick and swift his movements are. He has you stumbling backwards until you bump into his desk and then there’s a hand grabbing at the side of your neck, tugging you into a deep kiss.
It’s hot and heavy, even as he pulls away from you and pants, lifting a thumb to drag your lower lip down, “Lay back and spread your legs for me then,” Nanami murmurs in that deep tone of his.
You gulp, “Sir, I-“
He cuts you off by slipping his thumb into your mouth, “You said I could get that skirt off of you. Don’t go back on your word and do as I said.”
Gazing at him for a singular moment longer, you lift yourself onto his desk and start parting your legs for the man. His thumb leaves your mouth and his finger is slightly wet as he places his palms to your thighs, slipping his grasp up to your hips and beneath that skirt of yours.
The fabric starts bundling up at you hips and you let out a sigh as you lean your upper half back.
Then, Nanami moves to tug at his tie and sends you a look of warning, “And don’t be too loud like last time… You don’t want others to hear how much of a slut you are behind closed doors, right?”
You release a scoff, “Says the man who was jerking off in his office.”
He freezes before smiling slightly, “Touché.”
#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo x reader#toji x reader#nanami x reader#geto x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#nanami kento x reader#smut fic#jjk smut#gojo smut#geto smut#toji smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you smut#suguru x reader#suguru x reader smut#suguru x you#suguru x you smut#anime smut#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo saturo
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midnight check-in
synopsis: in the middle of the night, you are woken up by a call from your husband.
pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader
the phone buzzes on the nightstand, dragging you from the edge of sleep. squinting at the glowing screen, you see katsuki’s name flashing across it.
it’s late—past the time he should have been home, but not unusual given the unpredictability of hero work. swiping the call open, you press the phone to your ear, voice still heavy with sleep.
“did I wake you?”
his voice is rough, but familiar, crackling through the line like static.
there’s no apology in his tone, but you can hear the subtle hint of concern buried underneath, like he’s weighing whether he should’ve waited until morning to call.
“no,” you lie, sitting up and adjusting to the quiet darkness of the room. “it’s fine. what’s up? are you coming home soon?”
there’s a brief pause on the other end. you hear the faint shuffle of his gear, like he’s shifting in his seat, maybe still in the office or the agency car. “yeah, I’ll be home in a bit. just… wanted to check in.”
check in? katsuki doesn’t just check in. the man’s explosive, stubborn, and blunt to a fault—never the type to dance around what’s on his mind. so, when he calls you this late just to ‘check in,’ something feels off.
“everything okay?” you ask softly, leaning back against the headboard. your fingers toy with the edge of the blanket, tracing small patterns over the fabric.
“yeah, just a long-ass day,” he grumbles, his voice a little lower now. he’s tired, you can tell, but there’s something else lurking in the background of his words.
“didn’t mean to be out so late. I know I said I’d be back before—”
“katsuki,” you cut him off gently. “you don’t have to apologize for doing your job. I know how it is.”
he lets out a frustrated huff, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s feeling restless.
“still,” he mutters. “I said I’d be there, and I’m not. doesn’t sit right with me.”
your heart softens at that. even though his words are gruff, katsuki has always had a way of showing he cares—usually in his own roundabout, katsuki-style way.
“you’re here now,” you say, your voice a little warmer. “that’s what matters. I’m just glad you called.”
another pause, this one heavier. there’s a slight crackle from his end, like he’s shifting again, probably leaning back in whatever chair he’s stuck in, the tension still clinging to him.
“yeah, well… I didn’t wanna wake up and find out you’re pissed I didn’t get home.” there’s a touch of humor in his voice, and you can practically hear the smirk on his lips. “figured I’d save myself the trouble.”
you chuckle softly, shaking your head. “you’re not getting out of trouble that easily, katsuki.”
“darn,” he clicks his tongue, but the familiar grumble in his tone makes you smile. it’s his way of saying he missed you, without actually saying it.
for a moment, there’s just comfortable silence between you.
the sound of his steady breathing on the other end of the line makes your chest ache a little—wanting him here, not just on the other side of a phone.
“you almost home?” you ask quietly, the warmth of the blankets doing little to fill the empty space beside you.
“yeah.” his voice softens, dropping just enough that you can tell he’s not as guarded anymore. “should be there in about ten.”
“good,” you murmur, stifling a yawn as you sink further into the bed, imagining him walking through the door any minute now. “I’ll wait for you.”
there’s a beat, a moment where his breathing catches ever so slightly, before he grumbles again, but softer this time. “you don’t have to stay up for me, y/n.”
“I want to.”
the silence that follows feels different—warmer, like he’s smiling, even if you can’t see it. and maybe it’s the exhaustion in your voice, or the way you said it so matter-of-factly, but something in him shifts.
you hear him let out a quiet breath, the kind he only ever lets out when he’s alone with you.
“...you’re such a damn idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it. just warmth.
you smile into the phone, eyes already half-closed. “takes one to know one.”
he snorts at that, a rare sound of amusement that you love catching him off-guard with. “whatever. just keep your ass in bed. I’ll be there soon.”
“mhm,” you hum, already feeling the drowsiness tugging at you again, but there’s something in the comfort of his voice that keeps you tethered.
you shift slightly, hugging the blanket closer, waiting for the familiar click of the front door. before you drift off entirely, you murmur, “love you, katsuki.”
there’s a pause, and for a moment, you think he’s hung up. but then, quietly, with all the weight of a promise, he replies.
“yeah. love you too.”
the call ends with a soft click, but even after, the warmth of his voice lingers in the quiet room. you smile to yourself, feeling the space beside you growing less empty by the minute.
kofi — navigation — masterlist
do not copy, translate, or plagarize
#bakugo x female reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#bakugou x you#bnha x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katsuki x you#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugo x you#bakugou x reader#bakugou x fem!reader#katsuki x y/n#katsuki x reader#katsuki x you#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x you#katsuki bakugou x female reader#mha x reader#bnha x y/n
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Sukuna’s tongue on his abdomen. You do the rest 😫
❤︎ ໋𓈒 asking to ride sukuna's stomach tongue while you make out with him
warnings. fem! reader, true form sukuna, riding his stomach tongue, cunnilinguś, dirty talk, praise, mdni.
“. . woman, don’t mumble,” he’d sneer, an arm hooked around your waist. you panted, suddenly feeling small. he sat manspread on his throne, occasionally brushing a thumb against the edges of your hips. dark irises stare you down before he continues to speak in a rough tone. “repeat yourself. and look at me when you speak, i taught you well, did i not?”
your eyes ran down every inch of his body, all down sukuna’s washboard abs before it leers near that particular spot. near the lower part of his torso, where a merely pried open mouth rests. you couldn’t help but ponder to yourself, imagining such raunchy things about the extra mouth that attached towards the outer part of his stomach.
“i said . .” you project your voice slightly, still speaking softly. the air felt thick all around you, you swallow an invisible lump in your throat as you straddle him before sighing. “your extra mouth near . . there,” and you point, watching his dark eyes glance to where you’re referring to. “can— may i sit on it?”
“ah,” he snickers, already knowing you were gonna ask him that anyway. sukuna brings a hand towards his mouth, wiping underneath his nose before humming. “you’re such an odd girl,” and his voice deepens, its pitch sends a plethora of tingles to wander all throughout your body. “you may. but first,” and you stare into his eyes, watching as he grabs your chin, gently skimming his thumb alongside your lip as if he was parting your lips to converse. “say those words for me, pretty please.”
as he runs a thumb against your lip, you stare right into his dark hooded eyes. he slyly smiles at you, his fangs briefly poking out as he awaited for those sweet honeyed words to escape.
“but ryo,” you pout, aware he went by sukuna but you always shortened his name whenever you didn’t get your way right away.
“hmph,” he huffs out a husky breath, raising your chin up slightly as you still sat on his lap. your panties that were already pulled to the side pokes underneath your skirt before you inch closer towards him—closer towards his perfectly sculpted chest. “don’t 'ryo' me, girl. manners, let’s use those today, yeah?”
a long silence occurs before you blow, and he finds your frustration entirely adorable…
“pretty please,” you repeat his words, a cute grumble hidden underneath your tone. “pretty please can you allow me on your s-stomach so i can . .”
“never told you to go into detail, nasty girl,” he chortles, and his deep voice made you throb. such bass in it, it boomed throughout the entire palace.
“mhm . . . but as you wish,” and two big hands grab onto the sides of your waist. with a brief lift, you’re scooted up further against his abdomen where the closed mouth resides. “you’re gonna have to either hold on or i’m gonna have you hold you up, princess.”
“okay,” you suck in a sharp breath, wrapping your cute frail arms around him. he’s got this stare that’s so intimidating—so attractive.
you felt him hold your hips in place, guiding you where to sit. he had to slouch a bit against his throne, and you were finally sat. his eyes pierce into yours and he’s awaiting for your reaction. “how does it work, ‘kuna?”
“heh. oh you’ll see,” he grunts, and then moments later, you feel it — a slow lick that runs straight against your panties. your facial expression was cute, taken aback but cute. it felt like usual, how he’d eat you out whenever, just a tad bit different.
the tongue was a bit more lengthy, you moan once you jerk against him before slumping into his chest. “tell me little one,” he says, holding you with his front arms, kissing the tip of your forehead, another ruffling your hair. “how’s my extra tongue making you feel?”
it was so sloppy, you shudder once you hear a brief slurp commence and your eyes merely roll back.
“g—goooood,” you drag out, and he chuckles at how you start to grind against his abdomen. “it feels good, ‘kuna. don’t s—stop.”
“like i said before, such an odd one you are,” he gruffs lowly. from your sheer pleasure, he found himself getting slightly aroused himself. your sweetened moans going all up against his ear makes him smile. you just couldn’t stay still, the more you felt the tongue lap against your sopping cunt — the more you felt the need to grind against him even further. “is it better than my regular tongue?”
“s-stop talking, ‘kuna,” you whine, being taken over with pure lust. it felt so good—you couldn’t exactly put the feeling into words, but you felt yourself grow hot. it was as if the tongue had a mind of its own. flicking vigorously all between your folds, you profusely twitch. “hold me.”
he snickers, his lower arms gripping onto your waist like velcro.
“oh, how humorous. the human has the nerve to tell me what to do,” and you gnaw on your lip, feeling yourself start to dissolve into a blissful trance. the tongue went in multiple directions, circular and all. it spelled out a plethora of things including the alphabet, all over your pussy. you’ve never experienced anything like it. curiosity did kill the cat after all. “you taste sweet. have you been playing with yourself recently?”
“n— no,” you murmur in a weak voice, knowing you were about to approach your peak soon. it was so quick paced, you barely had time to keep up with your own shortened breaths. your voice sounded so small, it trembled on every word and symbol and he just snickers. “i didn’t.”
“look into my eyes and tell me you didn’t touch yourself,” he utters in a growl, gripping your chin as his lower tongue continued to wander all throughout your folds. you were soaked, the more you rutted your jittery hips against him—you became more and more close. his thumb swipes against your lip before he hums out of amusement. “yeah. go on,” he says after you suddenly grow quiet after eight dreadfully long seconds pass. “girl, i don’t have all day.”
you moan, feeling the licks against your sopping entrance fuel up a longing hunger that stirred up inside you. the tongue was slow, making sure to savor every inch of your honeyed taste. your arms remained wrapping around his broad shoulders before you lean in to kiss him.
“foolish woman,” he titters, pressing a finger against your lips. your eyes stare at his long well trimmed nail before averting back towards him. “if you want a kiss from me, you’d say what i tell you to say.”
the pout that stretches against the corners of your lips never cease, he was impossible.
you felt yourself throb at the countless sensational slurps the extra tongue made, you were panting . . hurriedly chasing your irregular rough breaths to only fail, as if it were some sort of lewd competition.
“f— fine,” you grouse, a pout still on your lips. he raises an eyebrow with a smirk, awaiting for your pathetic words that eventually comes. “i … i touched myself when you weren’t here, ‘kuna.”
“and what exactly was the reason for that?” he jibes.
you glare at him but it falters quickly, your eyebrows furrowing into a sweet curl once you’re about to let out a frenzied teeth shattering orgasm.
“i was bored. you’re always away doing boring king stuff and i just—”
“silly girl,” he cuts you off in a sonorous voice, swiftly shaking his head at you describing his royal devoirs as ‘boring king stuff’. you feel your heart flutter once your cunt clenches. you whimper, a fire igniting within you and your thighs suddenly ached. you felt it coming all too well. it was inevitable, your legs trembled the more the tongue lapped against your pussy at a more quickened speed. “don’t care what your reason is, this pussy’s only for my hands ‘n my hands only.”
alas, you were melting, metaphorically speaking but your entire body felt like it was.
it was so lewd, it’s slurping rang through your ears before moments later . . you jolt forward, feeling your release finally come. you came, a coil within you tightening and snapping before you whimper into his arms.
“s— sukunaaa,” you tremor, and that’s when he finally brings you into a loving kiss.
finally, you sink into his warm embrace, still grinding your hips briefly against the mouth that laid against his lower torso. your mouth pops open, glossed lips parting before you skim your tongue against his. he laughs, a hand of his slithering down your back in such a teasing way. you were still moving despite your entire body resuming to ride out your recent orgasm.
his embrace was soft, caressing the tiny hairs that stood up against your back . . lovingly.
as your tongue ran against his, you felt his fangs and you moan right into his mouth — a hand slowly trailing down his chiseled chest. he groans, deepening the kiss before grabbing your chin, tilting your head forward. foreheads touch briefly and it’s so soft.
you’re rocking back and forth, still pulsing heavily before after a while, he pulls away. you’re out of breath, the tongue still laid against your clit before your droopy hooded eyes stare into him.
“. . awww,” he slyly taunts, noticing your dumb expression. all that just from his extra tongue, he hums to himself once more before tilting your chin. “now now, what do we say afterwards?”
“t- thank you, ‘kuna,” and then you let off a deep sigh. “i love you.”
“mhm,” he rasps lowly, leaning forward to plant another sweet kiss on the top of your forehead. “i love you too, princess,” and then a long pause occurs. you’re staring at him, no words escaping but you look like you were desperately yearning to ask him something. “speak, girl.”
in short pants, you feel near his pecs before stammering out in shy words. “can— can we do that again, pretty please?”
sukuna smirks, his eyes briefly rolling before he cocks his neck. he lets off a low grumble before his eyes linger down towards the slick mess you created on him. “hm. as you wish. this time though, you cum when i tell you. understand?”
“yes, ‘kuna.”
“that’s a good girl.”
#★vegasbaby.#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#sukuna x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#anime smut#female reader
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𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫
→ premise: sometimes logan’s age showed more than it normally would and so just once you called him an old man, affectionally of course. Well he was determined to show you he wasn’t one.
→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader
→ warnings: smut | 18+, nicknames [baby, sweet girl, princess], daddy kink, both reader and logan use old man as a nickname, oral [f receiving], unprotected sex, established relationship, slight overstimulation.
→ a/n: the pictures/moodborad above are purely for vibes :) you can imagine any logan pretty much for this fic i think. this is mt first time writing logan so sorry if hes out of character and sorry for any mistakes this was written and proof read at 1am.
Logan wasn’t the type of man to be insecure about his age, his body and face didn’t necessarily show it like how it did on others obviously. He was well aware he was way older than you, he was much older than most people. His age showed more with his taste in music and movies, even in some of the outdated slang he frequently used.
You were currently laid up in your shared bed with Logan. You loved being curled up in his lap, your head resting on his chest cuddled up against him. A cigar nestled between Logan's lips, him periodically puffing out smoke. One of his arms lazily resting over your body holding you against him. An older movie was playing on the tv in the background, the volume was high enough for you to hear it, however you could hardly pay attention. Your mind was too lost in how domestic and old timey it all was, the feeling making your heart flutter.
“You know this was my favorite movie, well one of 'em used to watch it all the time” Logan's gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought.
You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly, his gaze fixated on the black and white images flashing across the screen. You chuckle softly and reach up towards his neck to thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. An action that Logan has come to love and even crave on the days when life gets just a little too much.
“You're such an old man” your voice breaks his focus , it was teasing and full of affection as you said it. Logan could clearly hear it, and your statement was correct and didn't bother him, however he couldn't help the little plan forming in his head to mess with you. Shaking your head lightly you turn your attention back on the television.
“Ya’ wanna say that again sweet girl?” He leans his head down, all his attention now glued to you. His words came out almost mockingly instantly making your gaze snap back up to him. He grabs ahold of your chin so that your focus and your eyes stay on him. You knew that teasing tone of voice like the back of your hand by now and what it meant. It made the flutter in your heart drop to your stomach, his arm that was wrapped around your body tightens. You can feel him starting to grow harder against your thigh, making you squirm a bit in his grasp. You swallow hard, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Logan watches as your pupils dilate and that sweet smell that he's become addicted to fills his nose, giving away your own growing arousal.
“Cause i'm thinkin’ you just called me old princess” He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, his lips breaking out in a smirk. Still not being able to find your words you shake your head ‘no’ causing him to chuckle deeply. “No? cause i think ya’ did baby, yeah i think you called me an old man” His words come out in almost a growl as he leans forward, pushing you down on your back. His body now perfectly nestled between your legs as he hovers over you, pinning you down with his weight. His large rough hands holding onto your hips, one slowly drifting and pushing up the t-shirt you had on. A t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one he's been looking for all week.
“Maybe i did.. but you are an actual old man Logan, you’re much older than me baby” Finally finding your voice you attempt to explain yourself, though you knew he wasn't actually upset by your comment. His strained cock pressed against your clothed cunt being more than an indication of that. Your damp panties and his jeans doing nothing to stop him from feeling the way your pussy was throbbing already from his teasing.
“Yea? Well ima show you just what this old man can do huh” He questioned, barely giving you a moment to answer. Wasting no time he has your shirt pushed up revealing your bare tits and his other hand pulling your panties down your legs. Sliding down your body and the bed he slowly kisses down your exposed chest and stomach until his head has made it between your spread thighs. “Logan..” you whine softly, your eyes glued to his every move as you grow more impatient. A rush of cold air hits your lower half when he finally rids you of your soaked underwear.
That damn smirk not wavering from his face as he grabs ahold of your thighs and nearly growls when his tongue finally laps at your pussy. “Fuck i dont think i’ll ever get over just how fuckin’ good you taste baby” his words come out a bit mumbled as his face is buried between your folds. “Lo..” you whine in embarrassment at his statement. Your slick had coated his face in seconds, though it was clear he could care less, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Even biting the nub softly causing your hips to buck up against his face, his scruffy facial hair rubbing your inner thighs. He groans against you and grips your legs tighter pulling you closer to his mouth.
“Daddy…fuck!” You gasp softly and moan at the sensation and tighten your thighs around his head, Logan's favorite thing was to feel your plush thighs squeeze his head. His adamantium skull being able to take the pressure. You can feel him smile against you at both the name and the action. “Atta girl, princess. Such a good girl for ya’ old man” he praises, his deep voice vibrating through your body.
Letting your clit go Logan pulls away for a moment, dropping his grip on one of your thighs as well to bring his hand and spread apart your lips. Leaning his head back a bit he spits on your pussy, his saliva sliding down to your throbbing hole. “Fuck she always looks so pretty sweet girl” he hums in approaval and admiration at your pussy. His eyes finally lift back up to your face, he takes note of your already blissed out look. “No cuming til I tell you baby, ya’ got it?” He questions, a small smile on his face that was covered in you.
“Yes daddy” you whine, your voice coming out a bit soft as you were taking the time he was giving you to catch your breath.
With a small smack to the side of your ass he dives his head back down, sticking his tongue out flat and licking a strip up the center of your cunt. Growling and burying his face between your legs again he laps and sucks at your clit and folds. Your hips having a mind of their own buck up against his mouth, nearly riding his face. His hips rutting up against the bed of their own accord as well, his precum now leaking through his boxers a bit. His cock straining against his jeans as wonton moans and whimpers leave your lips. Your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as his tongue every now and then pushes inside you and his nose nudges your swollen nub.
You could feel your climax quickly approaching, pushing your fingers through Logan's signature tufts of hair and pulling his face closer. “Fuck- Lo…Daddy please” you moan out pleading with your boyfriend to let you cum. He squeezed your thigh and groaned roughly against you, you knew that was his way of saying ‘not yet’. You whine and tug harder on his hair causing him to let out a small muffled moan. He pulls his face away a bit and with his hand that wasn't squeezing your leg he slips two fingers through your lips, collecting his spit and your slick together. Continuing his attack on your nearly now oversensitive clit he slides his thick soaked fingers inside you stretching you slowly. The rough pads of them instantly finding that spot deep inside you.
“Daddy I don't- uh shit! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, please Logannn!” You moan and whine out his name as your hips thrust back against his skilled fingers and rut against his face. Your high teetering on the edge as you try your hardest to hold it back. “Cum baby, cum on daddy's face princess” he commands and in an instant your body responds and allows your climax to hit you head on.
A string of curses leave Logan's lips as he laps at your cum as it leaks out of you, broken whines and small moans leave yours as he draws out your climax a bit longer. Finally emerging from between your legs, his lips swollen and pink, the whole lower half of his face covered in yours and his combined mess. Heat floods your face a bit at the sight, though your boyfriends still got that smirk glued to his pretty face. The dynamic of you being nearly entirely naked and him still entirely clothed caused an ache to settle back in your core as if Logan hadn’t just made you cum.
He makes his way bad up your body, quickly pulling off his shirt as well as finally pulling yours up and over your head, definitely leaving you entirely naked now. Leaning down, pressing his crotch right up against yours, his clothed bulging cock nudging open your wet and sticky folds. His lips hover over yours as his hand slides up your side, the other brushing over your breast before it’s wrapped around your neck and pinning you back against the bed. He squeezes your neck softly making you let out a whimper.
“You were saying baby?” His voice comes out deep and a bit hoarse as he questions your previous comment again. “Not callin’ me an old man now are ya’ sweet girl, noo cause you cant even talk” he mocks, a small smile on his face as he rocks his hips up against your pussy, the rough material of his jeans stimulating your abused bundle of nerves setting it off again. Your slick creates a wet spot on his jeans the more he grinds his dick against you.
“Won’t do it again i swear daddy, you're not an old man” you whimper softly as your hands grab at his arms and hands, your fingers rubbing at his knuckles where his claws rip through the skin. When his fly zipper brushes your clit you let out a short moan and move to grab at the waist of his jeans tugging, trying to get him to take them off. Tears lightly coat your eyelashes as you bat them at Logan. He scoffs softly and shakes his head at you as he lets go of your neck to undo his belt and the buttons to his jeans, pulling off his belt and jeans. You watch with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes, your chest heaving in impatience, hands wandering his body and rubbing over his muscly arms and board chest. He tugs his boxers down his thighs as he grabs your legs, wrapping your thighs around his waist. His tip leaking precum is redden and twitching as he rubs it through your lips before pushing at your hole.
“Come on princess, apologize for it” he goes painfully slow as he pushes inside you. “Apologize nicely for calling daddy an old man” he grins and brings his hand up to your boob, brushing his rough thumb over your nipple. You gasp softly and whine, wiggling your hips both in protest and to try and get him inside you faster.
Realizing he won't keep going further til you apologize, you give in. Pulling him down and closer, you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. “I'm really sorry for calling you an old man Lo, i didn't mean it i promise. You're not an old man daddy” you whine and brush your lips softly against his. “Oh fuck, you’re so sweet on me baby i love it” he growls and thrusts inside you hard as his lips crash against yours. You moan out loudly the sound muffled in Logan's mouth as his hips snap against yours. His cock thrusting deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot making your brain go foggy. Kissing you hard and passionately as his hands roam your body not being able to stop himself from touching you everywhere, you're all his anyway.
“My sweet, sweet princess, takin’ it so good from your old man huh?” He groans and presses his forehead against yours as your hips bounce off his. All you can do is frantically nod and mumble and whine about how good he feels and say yes daddy. Your nails digging into his back and running through his hair.
Logan may be an old man but he was your old man and he definitely didnt fuck like one. He knew how to keep up with his sweet little young girlfriend.
→ a/n: hope you enjoyed my loves, PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN REQUESTS< MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND IM CURRENTLY OBESSED WITH THIS MAN
#fem!reader#smut#blurb#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#logan wolverine#logan howlett x you#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett blurb#logan howlett oneshot#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett fic#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett drabble#wolverine smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine fanfiction#wolverine x you#wolverine x female reader#wolverine one shot#wolverine blurb#wolverine x y/n#wolverine imagine#wolverine drabble#wolverine x fem!reader#james logan howlett#the wolverine
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dinner prep engagement ♡
a/n : aaaand its finally here, the final part of the ring pop proposal miniseries after decades !!!! im sorry it took me so long to write this final part yall, i just finally felt enough inspo to write it and im super happy w how it came out ! i hope yall do too ! lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist ! much luv xx
fem reader, literally pure fluff between mama n son, katsuki gets emotional very quickly bc i believe he does and you cannot make me think otherwise, a lil emotional but pure sweetness, mentions of making dinner, lmk if i missed sum else !!
this time, mitsuki has no idea what her son is planning. sure she’s had her hopes for years now, and her suspicions, but nothing truly concrete.
that is, until she gets a call in the middle of the night.
"katsuki..hello ?" she answers groggily, heaving a sigh and rubbing at her eyes. she checks next to her to make sure she hasn't woken her husband up, her eyes dart over to her digital clock " 'ts one in the morning."
"uh..hey." her son's gruff voice sounds over the phone, she raises a brow at his hesitant tone of voice, but she let's him continue "yeah, i know. sorry.." he mumbles out.
the older woman shakes her head affectionately "it's fine..is there something you wanted to talk about ?"
it's silent on the other end for a while until katsuki mumbles something. "katsuki, you know i can't hear you if you don't speak up." she scolds lightly, causing him to growl under his breath.
"not..not right now, no--just..can i come over tomorrow ?"
taking in her silence for hesitance he continues " it's nothin' bad..i just--feel like it's something i needa say face to face, i guess.."
"okay..yeah, of course. you know you can come over whenever you want." she urges "is yn comin' along ?"
"no, she isn't." she can practically hear his eye roll and it makes her smirk "she'll be busy tomorrow anyway so, not this time. i'll tell her you said hello though, since you're always tellin' me to."
she's about to retort when katsuki speaks again, only not to her. she hears what she knows is your voice quietly chatting with him as he reassures you that he'll be right there with you and for you to go back to bed. the soft tone in his voice makes her eyes soften.
never could she ever have imagined her katsuki ever speaking so softly to anyone, because her katsuki is, despite having calmed down over the years, still quite the brat. (she's pretty sure she knows where he gets it from now..) he's still temperamental when interviewers and journalists get on his nerves. he's still awfully moody , but he's different now. he's just a little bit gentler with the way he handles kids or older women who's cats have gotten stuck in trees. complaining that this isn't his damn job but still doing it anyway with utmost care as the kitties sink their sharp claws into his skin or cling to him for warmth.
he's a still a little rough around the edges but it's the thought that counts. he's different than when he was younger, but he still is the most different with you. his rough and gruff voice that he uses to bark out orders and complain, complain, complain, he uses so softly around you, keeping you as calm and sleepy as possible. it's not perfect, but he manages to usher you back to your room to sleep, and that makes the thought count so much more.
"m'gonna go now." he warns, his mother hums in agreement, telling him she'll see him tomorrow and he reciprocates the goodbye.
"night, ma."
"night, kiddo." she grins, a happy sigh leaving her when she hangs up the call and lays back down. cozying herself up next to her husband.
she's had her suspicions and her hopes for a while now, but she can't be too sure what her son could possibly want from her tomorrow.
katsuki comes back home like he's never left.
the day goes like any other day would've went a few years ago when he was still living in the family home. mitsuki almost expects her son to run off upstairs to do his homework.
he greets his dad with a half hug, and is forced into a tight embrace by his mother, which he grumbles about. grumbles turning into a growl when she grips his cheek, scolding him for not greeting his mother properly.
it's a lot of catching up from the few months he's been busy with hero work. talking about his latests achievements and his quick climbing of the hero ranks, accompanied with barely suppressed smiles and softened eyes when you're brought up. mitsuki remembers how nervous he'd been when he'd told her he was planning on asking you to move in with him, so she's happy to hear from the both of you, since she has your number and you like to catch up every now and then, that everything was going well. though she already knew it would.
katsuki volunteered to help with dinner, his mother happily agreeing saying she could use some help. it makes her a little bit nostalgic and she wills herself not to get teary eyed at how much her son has grown.
but she sees that the opportunity has presented itself to bring up the topic that's been on the tip of her tongue the entire day now.
"so.." she sings "you wanted to talk about something, right ?"
katsuki stiffens like he'd forgotten, although his expression stays the same besides the slight squint of his eyes. the rhythmic cutting of vegetables has stopped and it takes him a moment before he speaks quietly like he's revealing a secret.
"i wanna ask yn to marry me."
oh.
so that was it.
"oh." she breathes immediately. a broad smile slowly grows onto her face and she beams "took you long enough, ya brat !" she exclaims, slapping her sons muscular arm. he growls lowly at her, leaning away from her though she remains undeterred. poking at his sides while he tries to smack her hands away.
finally, she relents "when are you gonna ask ?" she asks excitedly. katsuki huffs, eyebrows still heavily furrowed from her earlier attack. he turns back to the cutting board "soon. i arranged my schedule and we'll both be free, so in two weeks from now."
"you already have a ring ?"
he grunts in agreement. and mitsuki besides being proud of the fact her hunch was right, feels her heart warms at the burst of nostalgia of her little boy. her katsuki, kicking his feet in the backseat of her car. tightly gripping his bag of ring pop candies he'd give to you the next day. her little katsuki, who'd proudly claimed he was going to marry you when he grew up in that very same car, exclaiming that he'd proposed to you with those very same candies he'd almost had a tantrum over her not getting.
her little boy, who'd gotten oh so big, and so, so much more enamoured with you.
"good." she utters sweetly, voice just a bit wobbly "good. that's great, katsuki."
he nods to himself " i've thought about it for a while now..long while." he scoffs to himself, eyes focused on the cutting board in front of him. "got the whole day planned out too."
"yeah ?" he nods. her eyes soften as he speaks mostly to himself, he's had this little self hype up habit ever since he was a boy. trying to calm himself down and reassure himself. it's a smart move, but as strong and mature as he is, katsuki is nothing more than human. and anxieties can creep up on the best of us.
she's seen it before, and she sees it again when he bites his bottom lip in thought, and she smiles softly.
and again, she coaxes him into it " that sounds nice, looks like you got it all planned out, huh?"
and he nods again. but it doesn't take him, long before he breaks.
"..what if she says no ?"
and mitsuki wants to laugh. she really does, because the thought of you ever saying no to him sounds absolutely ridiculous to her. she snorts. shaking her head while her son looks at her incredulously.
"katsuki.." she tuts, chuckling to herself before she looks up at him. "you've got absolutely nothing to worry about. you've got it."
his eyes widen, then her son's expression drops as he raises a brow "how do you know that ?" his words make her smile widen this much more and she really wants to laugh.
how does she know. she scoffs
she knows because she knows him. she knows her katsuki better than anyone else, he's her son. she knows he's rude, rowdy, quipy, temperamental and everything else. he's all of that and so much more.
and yet you still love him. you're still so incredibly patient with him, you still offer him all of your kindness despite him once confessing to her he doesn't understand how you do. despite all of the times he's messed up, the times he's fallen down, you stay by his side you care for him, you care about him.
she knows her katsuki is absolutely infatuated with you, he always has been. from tantrums about being separated in class and knowing your favourite ice cream flavour to him being overly protective over you when you were paired up with your lab partner that ended up not being him and to him wearing the stupid stuffy tux mitsuki tailor made for him to take you to prom.
you've always been his number one best friend, but he's always been yours as well : he loves you, but you love him just as much.
and so mitsuki smiles "call it mother's intuition. and, not to brag, but i think most of my hunches have been right by now" and it widens when katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes at her boasting, another bratty little habit he has that he's practically mastered over the years. she sighs, spreading her arms out towards him "well come over here. you've gone and gotten so damn tall, i can't reach you myself !" her son rolls his eyes again, but he scoffs softly to himself and with a shake of his head, he closes the distance and hunches over to hug his mother. she wraps her arms around him tightly and he grumbles when she squeezes but he doesn't try to get away.
"there's nothing for you to worry about, katsuki. absolutely nothing." she repeats, rubbing his back. "you love each other, and that's more than enough. just be yourself, it's been working out for you this far..somehow." she jests. katsuki scoffs indignantly but they both end up chuckling about it. after a few more seconds they pull away and mitsuki pats her son's chest with a sniffle. right on top of his heart that she knows, she's seen, has gone through oh so much.
but still remained entirely yours throughout all the years and still so so so enamoured with you.
gripping onto his shoulders, she whispers "you got this." the glossiness in his eyes is impossible to miss, he's always cried very easily. but she guesses she mirrors his expression exactly. her son is the spitting image of her after all. she places a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.
"thanks, ma" he whispers sincerely. and mitsuki feels her heart soar.
"any time."
during dinner, katsuki announces the news to his father. who after getting over his shock immediately wraps his son into a hug. congratulating him and encouraging him with teary eyes, she knows where katsuki gets that from, before they all settle down to have dinner before katsuki leaves a few hours later. waving off his mother's insistence to pass you a greeting with a grumbled acknowledgement.
she shakes her head as her and her husband watch him drive off but her heart is full of pride.
"we raised a killer son didn't we ?" she giggles looking back at masaru, who agrees with a smile as they share a laugh.
and the next time you both come over, you're giddy. unable to keep your excitement in check as you keep excitedly looking back at katsuki, who finally relents with an affectionate sigh and you happily show off you're ringed finger with a squeal.
mitsuki squeals right back, wrapping you up in the tightest bear hug she could. masaru takes his turn hugging you, sweetly congratulating you both. of course, they'll tell you they both new in advance, but that was all for later.
sure, she didn't know what her son was planning in advance, but she had her hunches and her funny feeling from all those years ago that you'd be sticking around. she guesses it's good enough that she was the first to be told.
she sends her son a proud and teasing smile when they make eye contact. he rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face doesn't fade as he watches you talk with his father. she doesn't have to say a single word for him to know what she's saying.
i told you so.
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#lbakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugo fluff#bakugou imagine#bakugou x reader#katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katuski x reader#bakugou fluff#katsuki bakugo fluff#bakugou drabble#bakugo x female reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo x you#bakugo x y/n#bakugou x you#bakugou x y/n#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki x you#katsuki x y/n#bakugou katsuki x you#katsuki bakugou x you#IT IS HERE AT LAST!!!!!
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Can you please write dumb/subtle/random/cute things batboys will do while they are crushing on reader?
♯ FEEL YOUR LIPS CRUSH . . .
— gn!reader, fluff
© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified
BRUCE WAYNE
becomes overly observant but awkwardly obvious
bruce wayne is a master of observation—trained to notice the smallest details in a room, a person, or a crime scene. but when it comes to you, this skill becomes more of a curse than a blessing. his crush transforms his usual precision into something downright awkward as he hyper-focuses on the tiniest parts of your life.
it starts innocently enough. you’ll be in the middle of a casual conversation when bruce interrupts, his deep voice breaking through your train of thought.
“you’ve switched your coffee order recently,” he says matter-of-factly, his piercing blue eyes locking on yours.
you blink, momentarily confused. “uh, yeah. i wanted to try something different.”
“it’s good,” he replies, his tone completely serious, as if your new preference for caramel flavored coffee over vanilla is a critical observation.
sometimes his comments catch you so off guard that you don’t even know how to respond. like the time you came into the room wearing a pair of old sneakers. bruce, who was leaning against the kitchen counter sipping his coffee, glanced down and said, “those laces are frayed. you should replace them.”
you laughed nervously, unsure if he was joking. “uh, thanks for the tip?”
but bruce wasn’t joking. “i’ll send alfred to pick up new ones. you don’t want them snapping mid-step.”
he tries to play it cool, he really does, but his constant streak of seemingly random observations only makes his feelings more obvious. one afternoon, you find him glancing at your notebook while you jot something down. without even looking at you, he says, “you press harder with the pen when you’re tired. your handwriting’s smaller today.”
you set your pen down, giving him a skeptical look. “do you . . . keep track of my handwriting, bruce?”
his face doesn’t change, though you swear his ears flush the faintest shade of pink. “no,” he says smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee. “it’s just. . . noticeable.”
it’s the way he says it—quiet and genuine—that sends your heart fluttering. he doesn’t realize how much he’s revealing, but his small, awkward comments and laser focus on the details of your life make it abundantly clear.
the funny thing is, you’re not the only one noticing. alfred, who’s known bruce wayne longer than anyone, often raises an eyebrow or hides a knowing smirk whenever bruce starts one of his “random” observations.
( “perhaps master wayne should focus on his own handwriting.” bruce glares at alfred, but his lack of a comment only makes the butler’s smirk grow wider. )
finds excuses to be helpful
bruce’s wealth is something he wields with the subtlety of a battering ram when he’s crushing on someone. his intentions are good—he genuinely wants to help—but it often comes off as over-the-top or hilariously unnecessary. for someone as logical and composed as the bat, using his money to make your life easier feels like a no-brainer, but he doesn’t realize just how obvious it makes his feelings.
it starts small at first. you might casually mention needing to replace something—your laptop is acting up or your phone is outdated. the next day, without fail, a box will mysteriously appear at your doorstep. inside, you’ll find not just a replacement but the absolute best version of the device, meticulously selected and clearly expensive.
“bruce,” you say, holding up the latest model of a WE laptop you can’t imagine ever affording on your own. “did you do this?”
he looks up from his work, his expression calm and unbothered. “it’s practical,” he says, as if that’s a reasonable excuse for gifting you a piece of technology worth more than your rent. “your old one was slow. it’s inefficient to struggle with outdated equipment.”
when you try to protest, he waves it off, as though spending thousands of dollars on you is no more different than buying a cup of coffee.
but it doesn’t stop there. one morning, you’re sitting in the kitchen with him, absently complaining about how your car keeps breaking down. it’s an offhanded comment, something you don’t think twice about, but bruce takes it as a challenge. by the time you’ve finished your coffee, he’s already pulled out his phone to make arrangements.
“wait,” you interrupt him, narrowing your eyes as you catch him murmuring something to alfred over the phone. “what are you doing?”
“nothing,” he replies too quickly, but later that day, you’re startled to find a sleek new car parked outside your home, the keys and a handwritten note from the butler sitting on your counter.
“bruce!” you exclaim, storming into the study to confront him.
he doesn’t even look up from his computer. “your old car was unreliable. this one is safer.”
“that’s not the point!”
“it’s just a car,” he says with a small shrug, though there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
despite his attitude, it’s clear he’s putting an incredible amount of thought into everything he does for you. his gestures are less about showing off his wealth and more about making sure you never have to struggle, even in the smallest ways. because to him, it’s just logical—he has the resources, so why wouldn’t he use them to make your life easier?
DICK GRAYSON
finds excuses to touch you
for someone as physically expressive as dick grayson, touch comes as naturally as breathing—but when he’s crushing on you, it’s a whole new level. he’s not even aware of how much he does it at first, but the moments start to add up. it’s little things at first: the way he always seems to find a reason to brush his hand against yours, the casual way his shoulder bumps into you when you’re walking side by side, or the way he’ll lean close when he’s explaining something, his hand ghosting over yours as he gestures.
but then, it becomes less about the accidental and more about the intentional. when you’re sitting on the couch together, he’ll sling an arm over the back of it, his fingers close enough to brush against your shoulder. he’ll offer his hand when you’re stepping out of a car or climbing over something, even if you don’t need it, the contact lingers just a second longer than necessary.
“careful,” he’ll say, his voice soft and teasing, even though the step you’re taking isn’t remotely precarious.
“you know i can walk, right?”
he grins, squeezing your hand briefly before letting it go. “just being chivalrous.”
and then, there are the moments when he gets so wrapped up in the conversation or your presence that he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. like the time you were sitting together, and he absentmindedly started playing with the hem of your sleeve. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he looked down, startled, his ears turning pink as he quickly let go.
“sorry,” he mumbled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “didn’t realize i was doing that.”
but the blush on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know.
for dick, touch is a way of expressing what words sometimes fail to say. every hand on your shoulder, every playful nudge, and every lingering hug is his way of saying, i like being near you. i like you. even if he hasn’t quite found the courage to say it out loud, his actions make it impossible to miss.
teases you relentlessly (but gets flustered when you tease him back)
teasing is how dick shows affection, how he keeps things light, and, more than anything, how he tries to get your attention. when he’s crushing on you, though, his teasing takes on a new level. every little thing you do seems to give him material to poke fun at, not in a mean way, but in a way that makes it clear he’s paying attention to everything about you.
if you trip over a word while talking, he’ll immediately smirk. “careful there, shakespeare,” he’ll quip. “do we need to enroll you in a public speaking class?” or if you drop something, he’s ready with a dramatic gasp. “wow, butterfingers, do you need me to carry everything for you? i could be your personal assistant, but i charge by the hour.”
it’s playful, yes, but it’s also consistent. he’s always looking for ways to make you laugh, even if it’s at your own expense. like the time you were struggling to open a stubborn jar of jam, and he swooped in, popping the lid off with ease.
“guess i’m just the stronger one here,” he said, flexing his biceps with an exaggerated grin. “it’s okay; not everyone can have these guns.”
but if you so much as raise an eyebrow or fire back with your own jab, the tables turn in an instant. one day, after he’d spent a full five minutes teasing you about your choice of coffee ( “a triple-shot vanilla latte with almond milk? fancy. are you sure you don’t need a royal escort to carry it for you?” ), you finally snapped back.
“oh, and i suppose you’re the coffee expert, mr. regular black coffee? real creative. i bet the baristas have your order memorized.”
the grin on his face faltered for a split second, his eyes widening just slightly. then came the blush—the faint pink hue creeping up his cheeks as he tried to recover, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“hey, black coffee is . . . classic,” he mumbled, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.
and that’s the thing about dick grayson: as much as he loves dishing it out, he can’t always handle it when it’s directed at him. the moment you tease him back, especially if it’s about something he’s sensitive about (like his perfectly styled hair or his need to one-up everyone), he turns into an awkward, flustered mess.
“you spend how long on your hair every morning?” you asked him once, teasingly ruffling his carefully combed locks after he made fun of the mismatched socks you were wearing.
he froze, his hand shooting up to fix the damage. “it’s not that long,” he protested, his voice defensive but light.
“oh, come on! i bet you use at least three different products. don’t tell me you don’t have a favorite brand of gel.”
his cheeks flushed crimson as he stammered, “i—you know, it’s just . . . maintenance! can’t all of us roll out of bed looking flawless, okay?”
you laughed, and he groaned, muttering something under his breath about how you were “way too good at this.”
JASON TODD
acts nonchalant but is always nearby
jason todd is many things—brash, sarcastic, sometimes even reckless—but when it comes to feelings he doesn’t fully understand, he defaults to keeping his distance . . . or at least pretending he’s keeping his distance. the truth is, when he’s crushing on you, he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame, always finding an excuse to be wherever you are without making it obvious. or so he thinks.
take your quiet sunday afternoons, for instance. maybe you’ve settled on the couch with a book, enjoying the rare peace. jason walks in, all nonchalant, like he’s just passing through. he glances at you—just a quick flick of his eyes, like he’s making sure you’re still there—and then he settles in the chair across from you, a spot he never uses otherwise.
“what are you doing?” you ask, watching as he pulls out a book of his own, the same one he’s been pretending to read for weeks.
he doesn’t even look up. “reading.”
you roll your eyes but say nothing, knowing full well he’s barely getting through a page. you can feel his gaze on you every few minutes, like he’s trying to memorize the way your brow furrows in concentration or how you chew on the corner of your lip when you’re focused. and if you catch him? he quickly snaps his attention back to his book, pretending obliviousness.
“didn’t know you liked this spot so much,” you tease, gesturing to the chair.
a smirk plays on the edge of his lips, though there’s a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. “what, i can’t sit here now? thought it was a free country.”
it’s always like that—his attempts to mask how much he cares come with a side of sarcasm. but the truth slips through in the little details. like how he never actually leaves the room until you do. or how, even when you’re sitting in silence, he finds a reason to linger. maybe he’s scrolling through his phone, flipping through a magazine, or staring at the ceiling like he’s deep in thought. but really, he’s just soaking in your presence.
and then there are the times when he doesn’t even bother pretending. like when you’re sitting in the kitchen, finishing up some work, and he wordlessly sits down across from you, arms crossed and chin propped in his hand.
“what?” you ask, glancing up at him.
“nothing,” he replies, though the slight curve of his lips gives him away.
it’s not that jason is afraid to admit he likes you ( although there is a possibility he is but we don’t talk about that )—it’s just that he doesn’t know how. so instead, he hovers. he sticks close enough to feel like he’s part of your world but not so close that he risks giving himself away. so while he might act nonchalant, the truth is, he’s anything but. every glance, every lingering moment, every excuse to be near you is jason’s way of saying he cares—he just hasn’t found the words yet.
fixes things you didn’t even know were broken
jason’s way of showing he cares is a little unconventional, but it’s always in the small, unspoken ways. he’s the type to notice things that no one else would—things that have been lingering for ages in the background of your life, just waiting for someone to fix them. but because it’s jason, he’ll never bring it up. he’ll just do it, no questions asked, and then act like it never happened.
it starts with the little things. your chair in the living room? it’s been squeaking for months now, but it’s not something you’ve gotten around to fixing. it’s one of those annoyances you’ve learned to ignore, a piece of background noise that doesn’t really bother you enough to take action.
until one day, it suddenly stops.
you sit down in the chair, and for the first time in ages, it’s silent. your eyes narrow. you didn’t fix this—so who did?
“jason?” you ask, glancing toward him as he lounges on the couch, pretending to be deep in whatever he’s doing.
he doesn’t even look up. “what?”
“the chair. it’s. . . quiet now.”
he pauses for just a moment, but it’s enough to catch the shift in his demeanor. he shrugs, barely concealing the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “must’ve gotten lucky. or maybe it fixed itself.”
you know it didn’t. but before you can press him on it, he’s already back to whatever he was doing, like the whole thing is no big deal. it’s almost as if he’s trying to play it off, hoping you won’t notice that he’s been quietly fixing things in your life, one at a time.
the next thing happens a few days later. you walk into the kitchen, only to find that the light above the sink, the one that flickers every time you try to use it, is now working. perfectly.
you stop, standing in the doorway and just staring at it. there’s no way you fixed it. and it certainly wasn’t broken enough to need replacing. so once again, you turn your gaze to jason, who’s now sitting at the kitchen table, eating a snack and acting entirely uninterested in your investigation.
“jason, did you—?”
“no,” he interrupts and continues watching the video essay he turns on every time he eats.
“uh-huh,” you say, narrowing your eyes, walking toward the light and testing the switch again just to make sure you’re not imagining things. it stays steady, glowing without hesitation.
he’ll never say it out loud, but each fix—each thoughtful act—speaks louder than any words could. the broken things don’t matter, because jason is here, fixing them in his own way, piece by piece.
TIM DRAKE
gets shy when you’re too close
tim drake is usually the picture of composure. he’s calm, collected, and can handle himself in just about any situation, but when you’re too close, all that confidence seems to slip away. it starts small. you’re sitting beside him, maybe sharing a space while working on something, and without thinking, you slide just a little bit closer to him. maybe your arm brushes against his, or your knee nudges his under the table.
it’s enough to throw him off, just for a second. his heart rate picks up slightly, and he tries to hide it behind the screen of his laptop, pretending to focus harder than he really is. but he knows, deep down, that he’s hyperaware of you now—of the way you’re sitting, of the way your presence seems to fill the space between the two of you.
his eyes flicker toward you, but quickly dart away, like he’s afraid you caught him staring. it’s an involuntary reaction, the nervous little shift in his posture as he tries to seem as casual as possible. he clears his throat, his voice slightly quieter than usual. “uh, sorry, was just—just making sure the laptop was charging.”
it’s obvious to you that he’s not really talking about the laptop. he’s trying to act like it’s no big deal, but every time you’re too close to him, tim’s body betrays him. the way his leg shifts a little away from yours under the table, or how he tries to subtly angle his body so there’s just a little more space between you and him, even if he doesn’t want there to be.
you might not notice the subtle movements, but tim does. and every time you get close to him, whether it’s by accident or on purpose, he feels a flutter of nerves that he can’t quite explain. it’s not that he doesn’t want you near him—far from it—but the proximity messes with him in ways he doesn’t understand. his thoughts get jumbled, and his usual calmness slips, replaced by the flustered feeling he’s not used to.
if you ever catch him looking at you, his gaze quickly drops, and a soft blush creeps up his neck. “i—i didn’t mean to—uh, just making sure you’re not too cramped.” he mutters, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his laptop, anything to distract himself from the fact that he’s suddenly very aware of you being so close.
sometimes, when you get too near, tim will just freeze for a moment. it’s like his body can’t process the closeness, and the little awkward silence stretches between you two. it’s not uncomfortable—far from it—but it’s a vulnerable thing for tim, this closeness he doesn’t know how to handle.
but if you keep talking, or even just touch his arm gently when you lean over to look at something, tim’s composure slips even more. he shifts in his seat, trying to act like he’s calm, but his hand might twitch toward yours for just a second before he pulls it away like he’s afraid you’ll notice how he’s reacting.
follows you around during patrol
it’s late at night, the moon casting faint silver light across the streets, and the only sounds are the hum of city life and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. you’re out on a walk, maybe trying to clear your head or just enjoy the quiet, unaware that someone is watching you from the shadows. tim, clad in his suit, has been tailing you for a while now. it’s not that he’s trying to be creepy or intrusive, but rather, he’s just . . . concerned.
tim is the kind of person who can’t turn off his instincts, and tonight, for whatever reason, they’re telling him to stay close. he’s perched high above you on a rooftop, watching you walk along the street below, trying to remain unseen. his red robin suit blends into the darkness of the night, the shadows making him nearly invisible to anyone who might be looking.
he’s not sure why he’s doing it—it’s not like you’ve asked him to keep an eye on you—but there’s something about the quiet stillness of the night that has him on edge. maybe it’s because you’ve been a little distant lately, or maybe he’s just worried something might happen to you in the dark. either way, he’s got his eyes on you, and he won’t stop until you’re safely back where you belong.
he’s quick, agile, moving like a shadow himself. you might hear a faint creak of a fire escape ladder or the flurry of footsteps just out of your line of sight, but when you look, there’s nothing there—just the empty street, the soft glow of streetlights, and the ever-present hum of the city.
it’s when you stop for a moment, distracted by something—maybe you’re checking your phone or admiring a nearby storefront—that he’s closest. in that moment, tim takes a chance, moving closer to you, just a few feet away in the darkened alley. he’s not trying to startle you, but there’s something in his gut that tells him he can’t let you out of his sight, especially when it’s this late, and the streets feel a little emptier than usual.
he’ll hover just out of view, giving you space but never quite leaving you alone. if you keep walking, he follows, keeping his distance but staying close enough to ensure you’re safe. when you stop at a crosswalk or glance around, he’s already a few rooftops away, peering down at you from above, making sure you’re not being followed.
the closer you get to home, the more relaxed tim feels, but he never lets his guard down entirely. even when you reach the safety of your doorstep, he lingers just out of sight, making sure you get inside without any issues. he’ll remain in the shadows for a moment longer, watching as you lock the door behind you, ensuring you’re safe before finally letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
only then does he disappear into the night, his heart still racing, his mind replaying the images of your walk. he’ll retreat to his hidden vantage point, slipping into the dark corners of gotham once more, but the small weight of relief that you’re safe settles deep in his chest. even though he doesn’t want to admit it, there’s a part of him that feels content knowing you’re okay—even if you’ll never know how closely he’s watched over you.
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sweet like honey | max verstappen
max verstappen x fem!reader
"you're to sweet for me."
Max doesn't like how nice you are towards him.
beachy’s masterlist🐚
prompt list
Max isn't sure why he doesn’t like you. You’ve never wronged him, never talked bad about him, or been rude in any way. But for some odd reason, Max hates you.
Maybe it’s the Verstappen genes kicking in, that innate tendency to be an asshole. Or maybe it’s bred into him to keep sweet things like you at a distance. So, you can imagine his shock and horror when he sees you perched on the couch, flipping through a book in his friend’s Italian villa.
Your eyes meet his, and a smile graces your lips. You place the book in your lap, and he watches as your eyes brighten at the sight of him, the same way they might light up at the sight of a pretty flower.
Your small yellow sundress barely covers your upper thighs, and Max can’t help but stare before quickly looking down at his phone, not wanting to be too obvious about his boyish gawking.
“Max,” you say softly, your voice warm and rich like honey, drawing his attention whether he wants it or not.
He hears you, of course, but pretends to focus on his phone. His thumb moves slowly over the screen, though nothing he sees holds his interest. It’s the way you say his name that sticks in his mind, making it impossible to ignore.
“It’s nice to see you,” you continue, your tone sincere as if you mean it more than you should. You settle back into the cushions, your dress slipping a little higher on your thighs, and he catches himself glancing before looking away again.
Max lets out a quiet huff, his eyes still fixed on his phone, but his attention is all on you now. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, almost guarded.
You shift, crossing your legs under you, the air feeling warmer, closer. “A surprise, I guess,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips, the kind that lingers, soft and effortless.
Max clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look back at his phone. Still, he’s hyper-aware of your presence, of the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the room. He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, even as his chest tightens.
“Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, like he’s afraid to say anything else, and you let the moment settle, content with the quiet between you.
Just then, his best friend Jamie stumbles in, holding a glass of chardonnay. “Maxie,” he coos, squishing Max’s cheeks together, making his lips pucker. Close behind comes your best friend, Mila—Jamie’s girlfriend.
A few others join the group, a mix of Jamie and Mila’s friends, and Max’s brow furrows as he realizes that they’re all couples. He internally groans, watching your eyes flit around like a lost puppy.
“Alright, everyone,” Mila announces with a clap of her hands, “time to head up. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”
One by one, the group starts dispersing, grabbing their things and heading upstairs. Max lingers, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, but he’s acutely aware of you standing up from the couch, smoothing down the hem of your dress.
You move with an easy grace, slipping past him with a soft, “Goodnight, Max.” There’s no sarcasm, no bite—just genuine kindness that he doesn’t understand. You flash him a small smile before heading toward the stairs.
Max’s jaw tightens as he watches you go. You’re far too calm, far too kind for his liking. It makes him uncomfortable, like you’re holding a mirror up to the way he behaves, forcing him to see the stark contrast between you.
He takes a deep breath, tucking his phone into his pocket, and follows behind the group. The villa is beautiful, the soft glow of the lights casting long shadows across the walls as everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. His room is at the far end of the hall, and as he reaches it, he notices you standing just outside the door next to his.
“Looks like we’re neighbors,” you say lightly, your voice warm and soft. You hold your toothbrush and a towel, your yellow sundress replaced by pale pink silky pajamas, and there’s something almost disarming about how comfortable you seem.
Max nods, his expression neutral. “Yeah.”
You don’t push the conversation, only smile again as you step into your room. “Sleep well, Max,” you say over your shoulder, as if you mean it.
He huffs quietly, more out of habit than frustration, and slips into his own room. The door closes with a soft click, and he leans back against it, rubbing a hand over his face.
For a moment, he stands there, in the silence of the room, staring at nothing in particular. He doesn’t know why your kindness unsettles him so much. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but that’s exactly the problem. You’re too nice. Too understanding. And for some reason, it gets under his skin.
Max changes into a T-shirt and shorts, moving about the room on autopilot. He keeps hearing your voice, soft and sweet, lingering in his thoughts.
Finally, he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, trying to shut everything out. But it’s quiet now—too quiet. And even though you’re just on the other side of the wall, he can’t stop thinking about you.
In the middle of the night, he’s still awake, tossing and turning, when there’s a soft knock on his door. Max sits up, frowning slightly, wondering who it could be at this hour.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads across the room, opening the door just a crack. It’s you, standing there, a little sheepish, your arms crossed lightly over your chest.
“Sorry,” you whisper, barely audible, “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… my room's really hot. I think the AC is broken.”
Max blinks, unsure of what to say at first. Part of him wants to tell you to deal with it yourself, but another part of him can’t ignore it.
His eyes linger on you more than he’d admit—your hair sticking to your neck from sweat, your cheeks flushed, and you nibble your lip nervously. Your tank top has ridden up, a sliver of your hip exposed, and Max does everything in his power to push those thoughts away.
“Uh… you could just crack open a window,” he suggests, his voice a bit rough from sleep. He knows the words sound hollow even to him. He doesn’t want you in his space, yet part of him doesn’t want you sweating alone either.
You fidget slightly, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I tried, but it didn’t help. I just thought… maybe I could crash in here?” The words hang in the air, hopeful yet tentative.
Max’s heart races at the idea. The prospect of sharing the bed makes his palms sweat. It’s one thing to be in the same room, but sharing a bed? He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his tone. The image of you curled up beside him—too close for comfort—sends a shiver down his spine.
“Yeah, no, you’re right,” you offer a nervous smile, clearly not wanting to invade his space, so you back away, ducking into your room. He watches you until the door is shut behind you.
Max stands in the doorway, his heart racing as he processes the moment. He’s not sure why he feels such a strong urge to call you back, to insist that it’s okay, but the words remain stuck in his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of irritation and something else—something he’s not ready to name.
As he paces back to his bed, he tries to shake off the lingering image of you standing there, your flushed cheeks and nervous smile. He lies down again, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you’re just a wall away.
A few moments pass before he hears a soft, muffled noise from your room—a sniffle, maybe? It makes his chest tighten at the thought of you crying because you're uncomfortable.
“Damn it,” he mutters to himself, tossing an arm over his eyes. He’s not going to sleep if he keeps thinking about you like this.
After what feels like an eternity of tossing and turning, he finally sits up, his decision made. He stands up, his heart pounding in his chest, and makes his way to your door. He raises his hand to knock but hesitates, uncertainty flooding in.
“Why the hell am I doing this?” he mutters, his self-doubt creeping back in. But the thought of you feeling uncomfortable alone is enough to push him through. He knocks softly, the sound barely more than a tap.
“Hey,” you call from inside, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “Is everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” he replies, his voice worse than he intended. “I… just thought maybe you could come back. It’s probably not that hot here.”
There’s a brief silence, and he can imagine the look on your face—surprised and perhaps a little hopeful. “Really?” you ask, and he can’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips despite himself.
The door swings open, revealing you still in your silk-clad pajamas. He rips his gaze away, feeling a tightness in his throat. He doesn't utter a word, just turns around, walking to his room. He can hear your feet padding behind him, and you close the door behind the both of you.
Max keeps his back to you as you quietly follow him into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The air feels heavier now, thick with unspoken tension as you stand there in the dim light, waiting for him to say something. But Max doesn’t. Instead, he heads straight for the bed, pulling back the covers on one side, his movements stiff and a little too deliberate.
“You can take the right side,” he mutters, not looking at you, as he slides under the covers on the left. His heart is pounding, though he tries to act like everything is fine.
You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to thank him or just keep quiet. Deciding not to push it, you simply nod, even though he isn’t looking at you. You cross the room and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to make any sudden movements.
The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he can feel the same tension thrumming between you that you do. The bed feels impossibly small now, the space between you a thin sliver of air that crackles with awkwardness.
You lie still, facing away from him, but you can feel his presence—so close and yet so distant. The sound of his steady breathing fills the room, and you wonder if he’s doing the same as you, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself to sleep.
Minutes stretch on, and the silence between you is deafening. Every creak of the bed, every shift in the sheets seems louder in the stillness of the night. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.
“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice so soft it barely breaks the silence. You don’t expect a reply, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing.
Then, finally, Max shifts slightly beside you. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, his voice low and rough, but there’s something different in it now. Something that isn’t as cold as before.
You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he isn’t as indifferent as he wants you to think. You curl up a little more, trying to make yourself comfortable, even as the tension lingers in the air between you.
As the night drags on, you begin to drift in and out of sleep. The heat from the earlier part of the night is gone now, replaced by a cooler breeze that drifts in through the open window. The sheets are soft, and for the first time since you entered Max’s room, you start to relax.
Just as you’re on the edge of sleep, you feel something shift again. Max turns slightly, the mattress dipping as he moves closer—just barely, but enough for you to notice. His arm brushes against yours, and the warmth of his skin sends a small jolt through you.
You stay perfectly still, wondering if he did it on purpose or if he’s just restless. Either way, you don’t move, afraid to disturb the delicate balance between you.
Your mind races—what if you roll over onto him in your sleep? What if you start snoring?—and the nerves bubble up, spilling out before you can stop yourself.
“So… I haven’t slept in a guy’s bed in ages,” you blurt out, staring at the ceiling. Max barely reacts, his only acknowledgment a low, noncommittal “Mhm,” but it doesn’t stop you from talking.
“Yeah, it’s been, like… a long time. I’m more of a 'sleep with a thousand pillows' kind of person, you know? Gotta have the right setup.” You laugh a little, mostly to yourself, feeling the need to fill the quiet. Max doesn’t respond, but you keep going, too nervous to stop. “Oh, and I’m really bad with directions, like, I get lost in grocery stores. Once, I ended up in the freezer aisle for thirty minutes just trying to find the cereal.”
“Mhm.”
His replies are half-hearted at best, but you don’t mind. If anything, the sound of his quiet indifference weirdly helps soothe your nerves.
“Oh! And I can’t swim,” you say with a laugh, thinking it’s just another random fact to throw out there. But this time, Max’s head snaps toward you.
“You came to the amalfi coast, and you can’t swim?” he asks, his voice sharper than before, with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow slightly, and you can’t help but grin.
“Yeah,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Figured I’d just, you know… stay on the shore.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”
“Maybe,” you say, laughing softly, your nerves easing a bit. “But I’m good at other things. Like… did you know I can recite the entire script of Finding Nemo? Well, mostly.”
Max rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Great skill.”
You keep talking, the words flowing easier now. Your voice fills the room, soft and rhythmic, and even though Max doesn’t say much, you can feel the tension in the air start to shift. His body relaxes slightly, the space between you feeling a little less awkward.
“And another thing, I’m a terrible cook. Burnt spaghetti once. Didn’t even think that was possible. It’s water and noodles, right?” You laugh again, and this time Max lets out a quiet huff—almost like a chuckle, though he’d never admit it.
Your voice is like a steady hum, lulling the room into a gentle calm. You talk about everything and nothing, the words spilling out in a quiet stream. Max listens, his responses becoming softer, almost inaudible, but it doesn’t matter. His breathing slows, his eyes fluttering shut as your voice washes over him.
You don’t notice when he finally drifts off, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. But somehow, you feel it—the way the energy in the room has shifted, his earlier sharpness melted away into something softer, more relaxed.
The next morning, sunlight spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stir first, the warmth of the bed enveloping you, your body reluctant to wake. For a moment, you forget where you are, and then it hits you—Max’s bed, Max’s room. You blink your eyes open slowly, turning your head slightly to see him still there, asleep.
He’s lying on his back now, the sheets tangled around his waist, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. His face is serene, the harsh lines you’ve come to associate with him softened by sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, giving him an almost boyish look, something so different from the hard-edged man who usually glares at you.
You feel a strange flutter in your chest as you look at him, this version of Max—unguarded, vulnerable. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it’s almost too intimate, too close. You shift a little, trying not to make any noise, but the bed creaks softly under your weight.
Max stirs, his brows furrowing slightly as he slowly wakes up. His eyes open halfway, still hazy with sleep, and for a brief moment, he looks at you without the usual edge in his gaze. It’s like he’s forgotten for a second who you are, where he is.
Then, reality seems to settle back in, and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, though there’s no real malice there. Just a kind of gruff annoyance.
“Mornin’,” he mutters, his voice rough and low, thick with sleep.
“Good morning,” you reply softly, offering a tentative smile.
He shifts, pushing himself up on his elbows, the sheet falling further down his waist, revealing more of his toned torso. You can’t help but glance, quickly averting your eyes when you realize you’re staring.
Max runs a hand through his messy hair, yawning as he glances at you. “You talk a lot in your sleep too, or is that just when you’re awake?” he asks, a hint of that familiar sarcasm creeping back into his tone, though there’s no real bite behind it.
You chuckle lightly, relaxing a little. “Only when I’m awake, I promise.”
He grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you less awkward than you would’ve expected. It’s almost… comfortable.
Max stretches, his muscles flexing slightly as he does, and you try not to let your eyes linger too long. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t seem to notice.
“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “how’d you sleep?”
He glances back at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine, I guess.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, almost begrudgingly, “Didn’t mind all the talking.”
Your heart skips a beat at that, the small admission catching you off guard. You smile, warmth spreading through you. “Glad to know I didn’t annoy you too much.”
Max doesn’t respond, just grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. But you catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips before he turns away.
He stands, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his hair again before heading toward the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast soon,” he mutters. “Don’t take too long.”
He steps out before poking his head back in his face serious, “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says gesturing a finger around towards you and him, right asshole Max is alive and well.
“Right.” you deflate, but none the less walk to your room. You notice the AC now works.
The warmth of the Italian sun is already starting to filter in through your window as you slip into your pale yellow babydoll dress. The soft fabric feels light against your skin, perfect for the warm weather and the laid-back vibes of the villa.
When you finally make your way downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries fills the air, and you can hear the familiar hum of laughter and chatter. The villa’s terrace is bathed in sunlight, with everyone seated around the large outdoor table, enjoying breakfast.
Max is already seated, of course, his usual stoic expression in place. He’s leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, making it impossible to tell if he’s even noticed you.
An array of colorful fruits and pastries litters the table, couples chatting and laughing as you offer everyone a warm smile while taking a seat next to Mila, who returns the gesture. “How was the room, darling?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. You can feel a pair of laser beams on your face, as if Max is staring into your soul.
“Oh, it was truly nice,” you reply, feeling the tips of your ears heat up with nerves. Mila seems to buy it and turns to address the entire group.
“So, guys, today we’re going to take the yacht around,” she announces, eliciting a few excited hoots from your friends. Your stomach tightens at the thought of being stuck on a yacht, but you brush the anxiety aside.
As the chatter around the breakfast table grows, the knot in your stomach tightens at the mention of the yacht. You toy with the edge of your napkin, trying to suppress the wave of nerves that accompanies the idea of being out on the water, especially since you can’t swim.
Max, still leaning back in his chair, tilts his head slightly in your direction, as if he senses the unease radiating off you. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but you swear you can feel his gaze tracing over you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can almost hear his voice echoing in your mind: “You came to the Amalfi Coast, and you can’t swim?”
You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you join in on the group's excitement, even though the thought of being surrounded by water sends a shiver down your spine. Mila stands, gathering everyone’s attention, and starts guiding the group toward the dock.
The villa’s outdoor space spills into a sprawling garden, leading to a private path that takes you to where the yacht is docked. The sunlight glints off the water, almost blinding in its brightness, as you walk with the others toward the sleek, luxurious yacht. Everyone seems thrilled—laughing and talking about the views they’ll see—while you stay quieter than usual, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.
You tug at the sleeves of your oversized polo, the fabric bunching slightly in your grip as you focus on steadying your breath. The path to the dock feels longer than it actually is, the sounds of the group’s lively chatter fading into the background. You glance at the shimmering blue water ahead and bite the inside of your cheek.
Max lingers just a few steps behind, and you can feel the weight of his presence even without looking. His footsteps are slow and deliberate, as if he’s watching you closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. You try not to dwell on it, though the image of him smirking at your fear lingers in the back of your mind.
As the group finally boards the yacht, you become hyper-aware of the water surrounding you. The boat rocks gently as everyone gets settled, and you grip the railing tightly, trying to hide your discomfort. Max watches you for a moment before walking past you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours.
“Relax,” he mutters under his breath, not even looking at you, but there’s something almost reassuring in his tone. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to take a seat with the others, letting the warmth of the sun and the sound of conversation distract you from the vast ocean around you.
As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you try to focus on the scenery. The Amalfi Coast is breathtaking—cliffs draped in greenery, colorful villas dotting the shoreline, and the ocean sparkling beneath the golden sunlight. Everyone around you laughs and soaks up the beauty of the day, but your hands remain clenched in your lap, your mind preoccupied with the endless expanse of water.
Despite your nervousness, you find yourself stealing glances at Max. He’s sitting at the back of the yacht, one arm draped casually over the side, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he stares out at the water. He looks so at ease, completely unaffected by the swaying of the boat or the openness of the sea.
The breeze picks up, ruffling your hair, and as you turn your attention back to the group, you feel the yacht slow down. Mila claps her hands, announcing that they’ve anchored near a beautiful cove, perfect for swimming.
Your stomach drops.
Everyone begins shedding layers, excitement buzzing through the group as they prepare to jump into the water. You stay seated, gripping the edge of your chair as they leap overboard, laughter echoing around you.
Max stands, pulling off his shirt and revealing the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your eyes linger for a moment longer than you intend. He catches your gaze just before he moves toward the edge of the yacht, that same smirk playing on his lips.
“You coming in?” he asks, his voice low, almost challenging.
You shake your head quickly, offering a small laugh. “No, I think I’ll just… stay here and enjoy the sun.”
Max arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn’t push it. He gives you one last look, his smirk still in place, before diving effortlessly into the water.
You watch as your friends giggle and enjoy themselves. Mila waves up at you, and you give her a fake salute. She giggles and goes back to swimming. A few minutes later, several members of the group come up to take a break, Max among them. You hate to admit it, but you watch the water droplets roll off him, his cheeks flushed from the sun, and a tight feeling blooms in your core as you force yourself to look away.
The group is lively, and at one point, Jamie, always the instigator, starts playfully shoving friends toward the edge of the boat, teasing and laughing. You stand at the back, watching, hoping to stay out of the chaos.
But in a moment of playful exuberance, Jamie swings his arm and accidentally nudges you forward. Time seems to slow as you lose your balance, and before you can even process what’s happening, you tumble over the side of the yacht. The water crashes around you, and as you hit the surface, the cold rush envelops you, sending panic gripping your chest. Instinctively, you kick your legs, but the water pulls you under, and you flail in confusion. The world above disappears, and the muffled sounds of laughter and splashing fade into silence.
Just as you start to lose hope, a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back to the surface. You gasp for air, blinking the water from your eyes, and find yourself face-to-face with Max. His expression is intense, irritation etched on his features.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, though his grip is steady and reassuring as he keeps you afloat.
You can’t help but laugh nervously, trying to shake off the fear. “I didn’t want to go in!” you manage to sputter, still clinging to him for dear life.
Max rolls his eyes, the frown returning, though it’s softer this time. “You need to stop thrashing around,” he says, his voice lower now.
As he helps you back onto the yacht, the warmth of the sun hits your damp skin once more. Laughter and cheers erupt from the group as they realize you’re okay, but Max’s presence is the only thing that matters to you in this moment. He doesn’t say anything; his expression remains unreadable as he sets you down.
You catch your breath, water dripping from your hair and running down your arms. “Thanks, Max,” you say, trying to brush off the embarrassment. His usual smirk is absent, and for a split second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he cares.
But as soon as you’re on the boat, he steps back, leaving you with the others. “Try not to drown next time,” he says, his tone flat as he pulls his shirt back on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. It feels more like a reflex than a genuine jab, but you let it slide, laughing it off. “I’ll try my best.”
He turns away, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You shake your head, trying to focus on the laughter around you as Jamie and Mila check to make sure you’re okay. “Really, I’m fine,” you assure them, even as your heart races from the close call.
Just like that, everyone goes back to normal. Lunch is served, and as the yacht heads back to the dock under the fading light, you’re the first one off, eager to touch solid ground once more. You don’t bid anyone goodnight; you’re all too tired for that. You head upstairs to your room, closing the door behind you and shrugging off your damp polo and swimsuit. You hop in the shower, rinsing the salt water off your skin.
After your shower, the soft sound of knocking pulls you from your thoughts. You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door to find Mila standing there, concern etched across her features.
“Hey, just wanted to check on you,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of distress. “That fall looked pretty rough.”
You chuckle softly, waving it off. “I’m fine, really. Just a little embarrassed.”
Mila raises an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You sure it’s not because of Max? I saw the way he pulled you out of the water. It looked pretty… intimate.”
The mention of Max sends a warmth flooding through you, one that you quickly dismiss. “Oh, please. He was just being a jerk, as usual.”
She smirks, crossing her arms. “Or maybe he just likes the attention.”
“Yeah, right,” you scoff, but a small part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. “He’s just… Max. You know how he is.”
Mila studies you for a moment, trying to read between the lines. “Well, just think about it. He’s not always the way he acts, you know?”
With that, she leaves, and you find yourself lost in thought, her words echoing in your mind. What if Max really did care?
Later that night, curiosity gets the better of you. You stand in front of Max’s door, your heart racing as you knock softly.
“Come in,” he calls, and you push the door open cautiously. He’s lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone, and for a moment, you’re struck by how at home he looks.
“Hey,” you say, your voice soft. “I just wanted to thank you… for earlier.”
Max looks up, a flicker of something in his gaze before he masks it with indifference. “You mean for saving your ass?” he quips, his smirk returning. “Don’t mention it.”
You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”
His expression shifts, annoyance flickering across his features. “What do you want me to do? Throw you a parade for not drowning?”
“Maybe just a little acknowledgment would be nice,” you counter, crossing your arms defensively.
He stands, taking a step closer, and the air between you crackles with tension. “I don’t like how sweet you are,” he says, his tone sharp. “It’s annoying.”
“Annoying?” you challenge, feeling a rush of defiance. “Is that really all you’ve got? Because it sounds like you’re just scared of someone actually caring.”
Max’s eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might snap back. But instead, he steps even closer, invading your personal space. “You think you’re so great, don’t you? All sunshine and rainbows, but it doesn’t work with me.”
Before you can respond, he closes the distance, and suddenly, his lips are on yours—fervent and demanding. His warmth envelops you, slightly chapped against your own, igniting a spark that sends a thrill coursing through your entire body. You’re caught off guard at first, but your instincts take over, and you melt into the kiss, feeling his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer.
As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He presses you against the door, his body firm and solid against yours, radiating heat that makes your pulse quicken. The kiss is intoxicating; every second stretches into eternity—his lips moving against yours in a dance that feels both wild and tender.
When you finally pull away, breathless, your heart races as you search his eyes. “Wait… Max—”
He leans in again, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, a smirk tugging at his lips.
A rush of warmth floods your cheeks at his words. “Is that all you have to say?” you tease, a smile breaking through your fluster.
Max steps back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you intently. “What do you want me to say? That I’m an asshole who can’t help but want you?”
The air between you buzzes with unspoken tension—a mix of frustration and attraction. You feel exhilarated yet confused, unable to ignore the thrill of being this close to him, the chemistry crackling like electricity.
“Maybe you could start by admitting you actually care,” you challenge softly, a playful glint in your eyes.
“Maybe,” he replies, a hint of seriousness in his tone before leaning in again, capturing your lips with his. This time, it’s even more intense; his hands grip your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.
But as the moment stretches on, you pull back slightly, breathless. “Max—”
He leans in again, and you find yourself needing to physically stop him, your hands resting on his chest. “Wait, we can’t just—”
“Why not?” he presses, his voice low and needy, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”
You’re both panting, caught in an electric moment. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” you say, a smile creeping onto your lips despite the chaos swirling around you.
Max smirks, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, but you like it.” He crashes his lips against yours once more, and as he pulls away, he runs his tongue along his lower lip, a boyish smirk breaking through. “Sweet like honey,” he teases, prompting you to laugh and tilt your head back. Without thinking, you pull him down by his shirt collar, kissing him again, lost in the moment.
#be4chywrites#f1 x reader#max verstappen x reader#mv33#mv1 x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x fem!reader#mv1 x you#red bull formula 1#mv1 imagine
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Ok I love your post about sleep talking to Aaron, but can you imagine if reader is pregnant but hasn’t told Aaron yet and completely spills the beans in her sleepy ramblings 💙💙
thanks for requesting! <3 fem, 1.4k
“Can you take my socks off for me?”
Aaron decides against asking why. Finds he doesn’t really care why you don’t want to do it yourself, happy to do it for you and spend a little time touching you. He sits on the end of the bed, pulling the comforter off of your feet. He slides a finger under the band of a sock and pulls it off, then the other. Pleased to hear your content sigh, he tucks you back under the blankets.
“Thank you,” you say.
He hears it then, the tiredness creeping into your voice.
“Not gonna last long tonight?”
“Don’t think so.”
Aaron doesn’t mind. With Jack in bed already and everything that needed to be done put away, there’s nothing to do tonight but sleep. He would’ve liked to have had a few more hours with you, but you’re often tired lately. He keeps meaning to pay closer attention to your diet. Perhaps you’re eating too little or missing a necessary vitamin.
He strips out of his sweatpants and climbs into bed.
“Ooh, how forward, Mr. Hotchner,” you tease, your cheek to your pillow, curled and waiting for him to lay down.
He turns out the light. “Can’t a man take off his pyjamas without such accusations?” he asks back, soft so as not to disturb his sleeping son nor his failing partner.
Aaron shakes the sheets out over his legs, slipping onto his side in your direction. You hike your leg over his thigh. He pulls you in.
“Why are you so tired?” he asks.
You don’t pretend you’re not, eyes closing and forehead drifting forward. He’s content to talk to you like this. He might not be able to sleep for a while, but he won’t mind it. It’s an opportunity to see you as you are without inhibitions or distractions.
“I think it’s something in the air.” You slink your arm behind him where he’s hugged you, hand bent at an awkward angle to press into his hair. “So soft.”
He leans down for a kiss. “If you need to sleep,” he says, pulling away only to stroke under your eye, “you can sleep, honey.”
“No… miss you too much…”
“I’ll still be here in the morning.”
“Don’t promise if you can’t.”
He kisses your frown. “I promise I’ll be here in the morning. Just like we talked about. Regularly scheduled days off, definite weekends, consult only if necessary. I promise, honey.”
“I love you.”
“I know. I love you more.”
You’re delighted to hear it. Even with your eyes closed, he can sense the pleasure you’re feeling. You squeeze closer to his chest and begin pulling your fingers through his hair, a sensation that sends shivers down his spine with each pass. Your face falls on your pillow just under his chin and for a while you struggle, your hand trembling with the effort of stroking his hair. Soon, you’re scratching light circles into the same spot, and not long after that you’ve given in to simply having your hand there, buried without hurting.
He turns onto his back to relieve a hip ache. He doesn’t bother pretending it isn’t a plus when you end up half atop him.
“Aaron?”
“Yeah?” he asks, surprised you're capable of opening your mouth.
“Are you happy?”
“Never so much in my life.”
“You love me?”
He curls an arm behind the back of your head. “You know that I do, sweetheart.” Aaron is at a crossroads of disposition; he’s always been and always will be a sensitive man, but he’s more of a shower than a teller when he can help it. He’d hope you know every inch of love he has for you, in everything he tries to do, but if you’re asking him about it he should’ve said it more. “I love you. I’m so grateful for you.”
“I love you and Jack, and… I love our life.”
“Me too,” he says. “Is this a precursor for something?”
“No,” you say decidedly. Last bit of inflection, and then your tone’s lost to fatigue. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he says, pressing his lips to your head, kissing you once, then twice. “Goodnight.”
You curl up into him. He can feel the moment you fall into sleep, the laxness of unconsciousness and your deepening breath. You don’t usually snore for the first hour or so. He should try to fall asleep with you, but he gets distracted by the line of your upper lip.
He really does love you. It isn’t an underestimation to say this is the happiest he’s ever been. He’ll always wonder if he deserves it, but he wants to believe now that he can earn it. You love him, so he’ll spend the rest of your lives together making sure you’re happy. He’s had some cruel wake up calls, made agonising mistakes, and maybe there are some things that can’t be forgiven. But you deserve to be loved to the fullest extent. Jack deserves to grow up feeling the same way, in a home where his dad, while staying true to who he is, actually lives there too.
You and Jack both gave him a second chance at a good life.
“I love you,” he says again.
Stirring, you mumble nothing.
He shouldn’t have done that. “Shh,” he says, rubbing your back. “Shh, shh.”
“Aaron?”
You turn his name into a shapeless doting.
“What, my girl?” he asks under his breath. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sleeping.”
“You were.” He whispers to you in the dark, struggling to resist temptation. “I was just telling you I love you, that’s all.”
“I’m so tired.”
“You’re more than tired lately. It’s a little concerning.”
Your sigh kisses his neck. “Well, it’s probably ‘cos of the baby, you know, they’re so… complicated to make…”
He opens his eyes. Frowns at you, forcing some space between your two bodies. “The baby.”
“‘Pparently the first twelve weeks are the tiredest.” You whine softly and curl into him. “Don’t move away, please...”
He feels like he’s been shocked. The conversation about babies as a long term couple went as follows: we’ll use protection, and if the protection fails we’ll do as you like.
Aaron, you’d said, shaking your head, We can’t just do what I want.
Genuinely and wholeheartedly, Aaron would be happy with just his Jack, and, at the same time, would adore a baby with you. So it really was up to you, knowing protection isn’t ever one hundred percent. He’d hoped he’d be more looped into that conversation when it happened, though, especially with how much has to be done, the preparations to be made, and the extra support you’re going to need.
He takes a deep breath, thinking about everything carefully. He loves you. He wants you to have a baby if you want one, and it sounds like you do. You’re tired beyond belief trying to carry one, so this conversation can wait until tomorrow.
“I’ve heard that too,” he says finally, kissing your forehead more forcefully than he means to. “You should rest as much as you can, honey.”
“You sound like you’re smiling,” you tease, tired, somehow missing the entire point.
“I love you very much, that’s all. You and Jack and… and whatever else that comes.”
—
In the morning, you wake slowly and then suddenly, your hand against his arm. He’s exhausted from a night too excited to sleep and doesn’t budge.
“Aaron…?” you ask.
“What, honey?” he asked.
“I… did I…”
He deigns to remove his face from his pillow. He finds you looking down at him nervously, so beautiful then that looking at you makes him excited all over again.
He rubs your arm. Takes your hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss your wrist. “Congratulations, honey.”
It’s your turn to be shocked, it seems. “Oh, thank you. So I did tell you?”
“You might’ve mentioned it.”
“And you’re… okay with it?”
He puts your hand to his heart, holding it gently. “I couldn’t be more in love,” he confesses.
That helps your hesitant smile on leaps and bounds. You go smiley like you’ve eaten something sugary and laughed, summoning the sweet, inescapable ache in your jaw. “You’re sure?” you ask.
He pulls you down by the cheek for a kiss.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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SHOTGUN WEDDING | Rafe Cameron
MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Maybank!Female Reader
Summary — You and Rafe are nothing but casual. But when he suddenly has the idea to get married, you agree after some convincing.
Content — 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, blowjob, and banter.
Word Count — 2.2K
"Let's get married."
"What?" You say breathlessly, lifting yourself by the elbows and turning to face Rafe. You don't know if you heard him correctly.
"I said let's get married," Rafe repeats in a lower octave, pushing away the prickling feeling beneath his skin—a consequence of your reaction to his vulnerable declaration.
There it is again. Clear as day. You hadn't misheard him the first time, and the dawning strike of realization causes your heart to skip several beats. But you still don't acknowledge it. Blinking, you're trying to decipher whether this is some cruel trick. "You're not serious."
"Do I look like I'm kidding?"
Annoyance flickers through his hard features and you purse your lips, not wanting to provoke him further by providing a sharp-witted comment. Your mind is spinning—partially from all the orgasms Rafe pulled from you, but also from the proposition.
Marriage. Does he understand the absoluteness of that proposal?
You suspect he doesn't. "You're delirious," you brush it off with a casual laugh, wanting to admonish any potential embarrassment that may arise in him and to move forward. "Let's just forget about it."
"I don't want to forget about it." Rafe grits through clenched teeth. Your reaction is the complete opposite of what he'd imagined to happen. Sure, you weren't the type to jump for joy, but goddamn, you couldn't give him something? "You still haven't given me an answer."
"You don't want a real answer."
"I'm clearly asking for one."
"It's just the post-sex haze."
"It's called post-nut clarity," he rectifies, "And my mind is perfectly clear."
You're giving him exits, to pretend to forget about it and act as if it never happened, but Rafe takes none of them. He doesn't want to drop it, so, finally, you ask. "Why?"
A heavy beat passes before Rafe shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant when all he can hear is the thrumming of his own heart. "I like being inside of you," he reasons, before meeting the unimpressed look on your face, and adds. "You make me laugh."
You scoff. "Yeah, so do small children falling over. Get off of me," you shove him off, pulling to the ledge of the bed where your wobbly legs find balance on Rafe's hardwood floor. Not knowing how to process this change in affairs, you go search for your clothes instead.
Rafe watches as you scramble around the room, a reflexive habit of yours whenever you feel uncomfortable. His agitation flares, his jaw locks, and with a narrowed gaze that follows your every move, he pulls to a sitting position and rubs his chin with the back of his hand.
"Goddammit. Stop looking for your shit and look at me," Rafe commands, his voice bleeds with a tinge of desperation, forcing you to halt your recovery search to face him. Exposed. Utterly naked. But instead of Rafe making some sexual innuendo about your body, his eyes remain on your face. "Why don't you believe me?"
"Because we've only been fucking," you list, using your manicured fingers to count out all the reasons why this is a terrible idea. "You call me whenever you want a hookup. We're never not arguing, and I swear, sometimes, you don't even like me."
"I like you just fine," Rafe shrugs a careless shoulder, but the conviction behind his tone wavers. "And all the other reasons are bullshit. So, what? If we get married, we can fuck and fight anytime we want."
"That's faulty logic," you retort and he rolls his eyes. "Plus, it's not the basis for a strong marriage. I'm giving you an out; you're not thinking straight, Cameron."
"I'm thinking just fine."
"You sure?" You take a step closer, about to raise three fingers in the air, and ask him to relay the count, when Rafe inclines forward to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling you in. You let out a little yelp of surprise, slotting between his spread legs.
He lifts his chin to meet your gaze, his thumb running absent patterns across your sensitive skin. With a low voice, Rafe asks solemnly, "Why don't you want to get married?"
"Have you not been listening?"
"Those aren't good reasons," he affirms, causing you to huff.
"Only you would tell a woman their reasons aren't good enough," you muse, drifting your hand to the nape of his neck. You tilt your head to the side. "What classifies as a bad reason?"
A beat passes before he answers. "You don't like me."
After he says that, Rafe holds his breath, his eyes searching your face to see any minuscule change in your features only to discover none. Your hand locates his chin, caressing the hard definition of his jaw. "That's not true."
Rafe exhales. "Then, it's settled."
"No, it's not settled."
He groans, tipping his head back, enough for you to see the grand column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobs over your infuriating buffers. It's amusing, and for a brief moment, you envision a future where you get to do this forever. "Do you not want to get married?"
"I never said that."
"So, you don't want to get married to me?"
"Rafe," you sigh, and he returns his gaze. You're referring to him by his first name, instead of the adorned Cameron, and his skin tightens at whatever you plan to say next. "You're a Kook. I'm a Pogue. We're barely in a relationship, and I doubt your parents would approve of this."
"Fuck what they'd say," he admits, with the relentless urgency behind his voice. He means it. "I want to. Since when do you care about what other people think?"
"Since I'm going to be entering into said family."
You say it with such dolefulness, that it sounds like you already accepted his proposal. Already imagined a future with him. The corner of Rafe's mouth lifts; he just needs to do one more thing to convince you.
Rafe hoists you onto his lap to straddle him, your ankles on either side of his waist, as your naked core rubs against the side of his cock, the sensation quickly hardening his erection.
Expecting him to lift you onto his tip, Rafe surprises you by swiping his fingers through your wet folds, causing a small whimper to rise from the back of your throat. "Listen to me," Rafe rasps, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone before lowering to your breasts, while the tip of his fingers toys with your entrance. "You've given me your reasons why it won't work, I'm going to give you my reasons why it will."
"I'm not going to change my mind,"
"You sure?" Rafe grins, teasing your slit. Your walls clench around the nothingness, desperately needing to be filled, and it causes you to bounce up and down, rubbing yourself against Rafe's hardened cock. Your hands land on his shoulders for steadiness, and that's when he begins to pump you.
"I think we look good together," Rafe lists with a grunt, feeling your pussy rub against his length. Desire pools inside of Rafe, his cock throbbing, but he concentrates on the task at hand, adding another digit. "You're the only person that keeps me on my toes—fuck," he groans, and you smirk.
Your slickness covers Rafe's cock, but you don't sink down on it. "Are you sure you're going to win this?" You murmur against the shell of Rafe's ear, planting feather-light kisses along the edge of his jaw. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, needing to gather himself before he slides in his ringed finger—the cold singlet grazing your heat, making you gasp and stop your movements.
Rafe holds your hips, while his fingers fully thrust inside of you with such vigor and performance, that a rich moan rips from your lips. He concludes his final reason: "And I get to fuck this every single night."
His darkened eyes lift to meet your hooded ones. His fingers work a steady but increasing rhythm inside of you, the coil of familiar pleasure twisting your gut. "Look at how pretty you are coming undone by me. Don't you want this forever?"
"Shut–shut up, Rafe," you whimper, your hands reaching for his arm between your legs, attempting to slow down the pace as your sensitivity is plowed into overdrive. Rafe snatches your wrists into one hand, dragging them away. "Too much."
Your legs attempt to close around him, but his large frame prevents such a thing. Rafe grins at the look of pleasure blooming on your face, the unsteadiness of your breaths alongside your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, and he fastens his strokes.
Whimpers and moans escape you in rising increments, and Rafe kisses your mouth, swallowing all that noise and desperation and need. "Say yes," he murmurs against your tingly lips.
"N–no," you refuse, still holding an ounce of restraint.
But Rafe simply laughs. His fingers slow its assault, leaving your mind a completely boggled mess. Nothing but the sensation of your orgasm on the near horizon resides, hooked completely on fulfilling your own pleasure, that you can't think of anything else to do but whine.
He looks back at you, sincerity capturing his face. " I like you, Maybank. It'll be fun to make it official."
"I—" You can barely comprehend a single word he's saying, the fizzling of your orgasm dissipating as you desperately try to wield it back in. "I can't think right now," you whimper, lowering yourself to give him a needy kiss, "Make me come first."
He doesn't need another reason before he reenters you, his thumb circling your clit and massaging it as his fingers thrusts in and out. Sounds of wetness echo throughout the quiet room, and when Rafe leans forward to add another mark—biting a sensitive spot on your neck—you unravel with a loud cry, tipping your head onto Rafe's shoulder.
Rafe guides you through your intense orgasm, your walls clenching around him so hard, they barely can move. Slowing his thrusts until it completely fade away, when Rafe pulls out, he presses his slick-covered fingers on the dip of your bottom lip, forcing them apart to lick clean. And when you do, he pulls you back in to seal it with a kiss.
Your chest rises and falls heavily as your eyes close for a moment of respite. Rafe's gaze, however, never strays from your face—patient and waiting.
This is such a bad idea. The whole premise of a Cameron-Maybank marriage could potentially knock the earth off its axis. You're from two different worlds and carry different viewpoints, but there's something fun, exciting, and fulfilling in being with Rafe. It can't be just because he gives you one of the best orgasms of your life.
You know JJ would hate this. He barely tolerates the idea of your hookup with Rafe as it is, and out of everyone, you value most of your brother's opinion. But, for once, you can't seem to find it in yourself to care.
"Fuck," you announce, reopening your eyes and meeting his stare. "Fuck it. Let's do it."
Rafe's lips pull to a genuine smile. "Yeah?"
You nod. "It'll be fun."
He grabs your hand, "Let's go."
"Right now?"
"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet already?"
"You think I back down from a challenge?"
"It isn't the first time."
You slap his shoulder and Rafe laughs. He moves his hand to your hips again, lifting you off when you stop him. "Wait," you say, looking between you, at the red and swollen cock that hasn't gotten its release. "I have to do something before we leave."
You sink to the floor on your knees, still between his legs, as your thumb rubs the pearly beads of precum over the tip, causing Rafe to groan. He was so focused on your pleasure and making you agree to his outrageous proposal, that he didn't get a chance to relieve himself. You want to help.
After all, isn't that the first step to marriage?
Taking him into your mouth and tasting your slick rub all over him, you hollow your cheeks as you begin to suck. Rafe moans from the contact your lips made with his length, your hand wrapping around the base to steadily pump him alongside the suction.
It feels like absolute heaven. His hands thread through your hair, pushing you deeper onto his cock, and making you gag on the girth. This made you retreat, just slightly, to glare up at him. "Don't do that."
Wanting desperate release, Rafe's willing to listen to about anything. "Yes, ma'am."
When you return to sucking him off, Rafe makes sure not to push you further on his dick without prior approval, so you can take him appropriately. At least that means he'll listen to you in the marriage. As you steadily increase your pumps, and your jaw aches from the stretch, you feel Rafe's cock twitch.
"Come on, baby, come for me," you command, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. Not even a moment later, he comes inside your mouth, spilling to the back of your throat, and you swallow up every lick of his hot cum.
You wipe the corner of your mouth with the pad of your thumb, and Rafe assists in pulling you back to your feet. Giving him a kiss, you grin. "Good boy. Now, let's go."
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── stress relief. ( sjy ) 🎧
๑ Jake hasn’t gotten as much attention from you lately, so I guess he has to bother you in order to receive it..
pair: clingy bf!jake ㅊ busy gf!reader | warnings: smut, pwp, fluff, very silly and unserious banter, teasing, begging, fingering, oral (f. rec), spit kink (?), marking, unprotected s.x, creampie | words: 4.0k
welp- this was a lot longer than i intended it to be lol, srry not sorry. also why am i always making jake such a needy bf ? LOL, idek.. i just love a man that’s down bad for me what else can i rlly say shdhshsd
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
exam season never stroke you as easy, that’s why you took more time than you had into studying. you spent most of your days sitting infront of your laptop and it’s handy dandy partner— your notebook. on the side of that you were juggling your boyfriend’s needs, alongside your mother’s constant smothering over the phone about how she wants to see you this week. you constantly tell her that you don’t have the time and if you had the time you’d rather go over there than anything. you loved your mother dearly, but you wanted big things for your future, especially when you imagine a family one day with your lover.
“mom, we’ve been over this a million times, i love you and all but i’ve told you. i don’t have the time to go and see you right now..” you hated having to put your studies first before anything, but that was the only way in order to become successful. you couldn’t afford to slack off and just take time for yourself to do whatever you wanted, you had to remain focused.
your mom didn’t seem too happy with that answer, she really wanted to see you and you could hear it in her voice. it broke your heart the way she sounded. “i understand that, but i really miss you staying over sweetheart.. maybe we can plan something this week ?” she truly hoped that you’d say yes but you couldn’t just drop everything and go home for the weekend, unfortunately things were far more complicated than that.
you were beyond stressed out, and along with her constant nagging it only pushed you over the edge, you were well over aggravated. it’s like she only thinks for herself sometimes..
“doesn’t sound like you understand, i don’t have time and i can’t come see you ! you’re being really selfish right now.” you’ve tried reasoning with her but it just never worked, usually you’d give in and comply with her demands but you had to put yourself first this time. “i’m sorry but not today or tomorrow, not even this week, i love you mom.”
“i love you too.. i guess i’ll talk to you later then ?..”
“mhm, bye mom.”
and with that, you quickly hung up. you felt bad with how you raised your voice at her, but sometimes she doesn’t think. you could tell she had gotten upset just by the tone of her voice and that by itself made you feel like shit.
weight on your shoulder: multiplied.
not long after, jake had came home, he’d seen you working your ass off and understood how this upcoming exam was important to you. although, he also got to shake hands with this disasteress stress. for one, he constantly has to force you off your work to go to bed. he hated seeing you risk your own health for the sake of success. jake knew you’d pass with flying colors, he believed in you, he always had. you were few of the top students in your class. of course you had it. while he also studied for exams, he’d rather not risk his mental health for a test he could easily just take again. and he always told you that, but you’re too stubborn to ever listen.
“babe, i’m home !” he shifted to the living area, where you just so happened to be at the time. “new station?” he giggled, joking about how you finally moved from the dining area.
“yeah, i guess..” you yawned while busily typing away at your HP. jake checked the time once hearing you yawn.
“baby, get up. bed time, now.” he clasped his hands together a second before walking towards you and your silly little laptop. you don’t say anything back, only continuing what you were doing, as if he wasn’t even important enough to acknowledge.
“uh.. are my words delayed ? did i stutter? save whatever you’re doing, right now and get your little ass into bed.” he cocked a brow at you, waiting for you to comply, hands taped to his waist.
“jakeee, just a little more.. ‘m almost done ! i promise. it’s just a little bit left !” you plea at him, hands speeding up it’s pace, dancing along the keys moving to the save button after typing another sentence. your face looked drowsy. you looked tired. and you knew it.
“great then just a little bit for you to do tomorrow ! room, now.” his one arm and his other grasp you, taking you under your arms and up on your feet. “bu-”
“go.” he cut you off, nodding his head in the direction of your shared bedroom. you finally caved, maybe you did need rest. and that’s just what you did, but not before talking to the sweetness that lay beside you.
๑ ๑ ๑
“so, how was your day..” you ask the half sleeping boy who’s face was deeply snuggled in between your breasts. he couldn’t sleep unless he was holding you, the warmth of your body against his gave him the much needed comfort he desired.
“mm.. good, i just wish you were more involved in it..” you felt the vibration of his voice through your skin making you giggle, yet, you were upset with how it’s now just dawned on you that you chose studying over the man who’d give you the whole world if he could.
it seems you’ve been acting awfully selfish lately, barely returning any of his calls or responding to his texts hours later. he feels like he’s constantly giving one hundred percent in this relationship while you barely gave half of that. jake knows you love him, you wouldn’t be coming home every night if you didn’t, but he misses that stage where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.
“i’m sorry, i didn’t know how caught up in exams i were, i haven’t been giving you much attention, have i ? ..”
“you holding me is all i need.. i cherish the time i get when you aren’t studying..” he mumbles, hands tracing shapes along the slope of your waist.
“thank you for giving me time and understanding.. i love you baby..” you kissed his head tenderly. receiving a hum in reply you knew he was tired, so you yourself dripped into slumber.
๑ ๑ ๑
your alarm rang forcing you out of bed and before doing so you switched your alarms off. you looked over at your resting partner. he was so peaceful when he slept he looked just like a baby, and you wanted nothing more than to baby him ;(
*okay.. i wanna hurry and finish this.* you pulled the blanket off your arm before dangling your feet off the cushion of the bed.
“what’re you doing ? where are you going ?” he instantly wakes up when he feels the weight of bed lighten, hands capturing the hem of your sweatshirt to forcefully halt your movement.
“i’m just going to finish up my studying,” you remind him from yesterday, cupping his face as you turn around to face him.
“goodmorning, jakey.” you cheesed.
a strong pair of strong arms wraps around your figure, “gummorning, princess.” he half yawns, looking up at you with those precious, endearing eyes of his.
“c’mon, let’s go play in toothpaste.” you tap his arms signaling him to let go.
“are you saying my breath smells bad ?” he chuckled, finally setting you free.
“i mean, if the shoe fits !” you playfully joked, getting up immediately after he unarms you.
“c’mon babyyy.” you try one more attempt to get him out of bed, hearing him act all whiney since he didn’t want to. he’d much rather still be under the sheets and laid up with you, but you were on a mission today.
finally, you two ended up in the bathroom. mornings were always chaotic, so much going on as you took turns brushing your teeth. while he brushed his, you were brushing your hair and doing your skincare routine. you were getting ready to take a shower so you gathered all of your needed things, only waiting to brush your teeth. when you finally got a hold of the sink you got your tooth brush and sat on the counter, kicking your legs. you were sometimes childish, but so what ? nobody wants to age anyway.
“stop being weird, little girl..” you were laughing almost choking with the minty taste of toothpaste in your mouth, you quickly spat it out. “and you pee loud ! it’s like gun fire !”
he chuckles at your comparison, “i know a few things i do loud.” he mumbled before walking over to your figure that sat tall on the sink as you rinsed your toothbrush, caging you in.
once your toothbrush was away your arms immediately swung around his neck, you’d missed holding him all day everyday, which is why you contemplated on cutting your studying short for today.
“you’re so cute..” jake couldn’t help but be all over you, he’s waited far too long just to have you like this again; peppering kisses all over your face and jawline, trailing them all the way down to your collarbone. your body tingles in excitement, wanting nothing but to have your boyfriend’s hands roam your whole body. but you’d soon snap back to reality— the sad, underwhelming reality of what you’re actually supposed to be doing.
“jake.. we can’t.. i have to finish, remember ?” you felt like a broken record at this point but it seems as though it goes in one ear and straight out the other. he hasn’t touched you in so long, he doesn’t even know how he’s survived without it. he has his needs too, and his hand wasn’t going to cut it anymore. he desperately needed you more than anything right now.
“i’ll be quick ! i swear, pleaseeee.” he tries his hardest to plead with you, eyes practically begging you for an ounce of sympathy. “just want you so bad…”
usually you wouldn’t give in so easily, but the way he looked at you made you wanna fold in a heartbeat. was studying really more important than getting some dick ? yeah probably. but how could you say no to that face ? it’s been weeks since you got some and the urges were only getting stronger. you had no willpower left, so you finally surrendered to him.
he now has you in the palm of his hands, exactly how he wanted. he’d constantly be thinking of you, and all those times where he’s had to pleasure himself in order to get some form of satisfaction has now paid off; he could simply act out all of his horny thoughts on you now. and since he’s already got you where he wants, he wasn’t letting you go anywhere like you usually do. jake plays with the hem of your sweatshirt before lifting it up over your head, practically dying to kiss every inch of your body. he doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have someone as pretty and smart as you, but he’d never take it for granted— holding you within his grasp, carrying you back to your shared bedroom and gently placing you down onto the bed.
“my pretty baby.. ” jake couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off you for a second, drinking in the sight of you underneath him, it made him wanna tear you to shreds.
though he couldn’t do that just yet, he wanted to take his time with you. show you how much he truly appreciates and loves you. he definitely lied earlier when he said he’d be quick, there’s no way he’d be able to rush this. not when he’s had all this built up sexual tension that’s been eating at him since the last time you two fucked. the neediness of his actions were more than telling of his intentions, you knew he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him— if not more. plus, how could you refuse that puppy dog look he’s given you ?? he made you go crazy just from his facial expressions alone.
his hands slowly traveled up to caress your breasts, the pads of his fingers swiping over it’s hardened bud, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. he loves the way your body reacts to his touch, how you’d arch your back just from the feel of him. your low moans and whimpers were enough to make him go even more feral than he already is, feeling his cock twitch just from the way you’d sound. he craved you more than anything right now. you bit your lip when his mouth wraps around the base of your nipple, his hand working it’s way down to cup your clothed core, getting a feel of how much of a dripping mess you were for him.
“mmh.. so wet for me already babygirl,” he giggles when noticing the dampness of your panties. you seriously couldn’t believe you’ve fucked yourself over his touch just for exams. you often found yourself subconsciously humping your pillow to the thought of him, wishing that his face was buried between your legs instead of it. your body grew so sensitive over time, it was like you forgot how good he made you feel..
“need you so bad baby.. let me relieve all the stress and tension out of you..” his voice was low, full of lust and desire for only you. he kept teasing you with his fingers, enjoying every minute of you writhing and squirming under his body. he’s missed this dearly, and he was going to take full advantage of this. your mind drew itself blank, unable to think of anything but your beautiful boyfriend on top of you. you judd your hips up against his hand, building a steady rhythm to match his, the friction driving you absolutely insane.
“oh..fuck-” you let out a gasp when his thumb “accidentally” brushes over your clit, his hands shift to tug the fabric of your panties down as fast as he possibly could— but that didn’t stop him from continuing his little torturous teasing spree.
his head rested perfectly between your plush thighs, staring down at your pretty, glistening folds, tracing his finger everywhere expect where you needed him most. “mm.. jake, quit teasin’..” you whined out of frustration, which only made him giggle even more, until he finally complies with your demand.
“you’re right, my hardworking girl deserves a reward. doesn’t she ?” he looks up at you with a devious smirk plastered on his lips, all while sinking two digits into your small entrance— making you cry out from the sudden fill he’s added.
“spread your legs wider for me baby.” you didn’t even hesitate upon hearing that command, legs shooting open immediately. keeping your thighs open with your hands so jake could get a better look at your sopping cunt.
“feels good, huh ? you missed having my fingers inside you ?” he continuously thrusts in and out, gradually increasing his speed as you’re on the verge of falling apart. he absolutely loved seeing you like this, it’s what he lives for. he felt so accomplished knowing that only he can make you feel this way; no one else could ever have the same effect on you that he does.
jake knew you were far too weak to speak, your moans echoing the walls of the room was pure music to his ears. with just a curl of his fingers, your walls cinch around them greedily, watching as they’d disappear into your tight hole. your whole body trembles, as you cupped your breasts to knead them gently.
“fuck, you’re so hot. such a pretty little pussy, all for me.” he pants softly, taking in the sight of your eyes squeezing shut, how you were so overwhelmed already. he could bust just from this alone.
his head dips down in between your thighs, latching his mouth to your clit. he’d switch from harshly sucking to lapping his tongue on the swollen bud, eliciting the prettiest sounds out of you. “taste so fucking good baby. could eat you out all damn day..” he praised again, drowning himself in your sweetness.
you don’t know how much more you can possibly take but you firmly pull on his hair for leverage, tightly tugging it not even registering that it could possibly hurt him. but he doesn’t complain, his free hand caresses your thigh gently, flicking his tongue rapidly on your clit and drinking up your wetness, you taste like a dream. you mewl slightly above a whisper, forgetting how to use your own voice. his mouth was making you feel more than amazing, better than anything you’ve felt before.
“ ‘m gonna come !..” your hand now held onto his hand for support, lacing your fingers to intertwine with his. you grind your hips harder, feeling like you’re about to explode.. your juices squirt onto his fingers and his chin, making a mess all over the sheets beneath you, in utter utopia from the intensity of your orgasm.
“shit..baby” he moaned, licking his lips to savor every taste of you. he lifts his head up, beaming with a rush of excitement to finally have you take his cock. “get up,” it sounded a lot more demanding than he thought, but he couldn’t wait any longer. he was so horny that he wouldn’t even be surprised if he nuts the minute he enters you, (but thankfully he won’t because that would simply defeat the whole purpose of everything).
you did as you were told and quickly got up to land yourself on top of him. it’s obvious what he wanted you to do, he wants you to ride him while he looks up at your pretty face. it’s one of his favorite positions, not only does he get to lay back and let you do all the work but he secretly loves that you’re the one in control.
“mm.. that’s my girl,” he groans once you hover over his length, gently stroking the base of his shaft. his hands slid up to find purchase on your hips.
his embrace felt all the more than loving— it was familiar, warm, and protective. skin on skin, body to body; beautifully unraveling as one. your mouth flung open when you slid yourself inside but no audible noise came out— it was but a silent scream. he was sporting a semi-hard on but once fully submerged and accustomed to you tightening around him, your walls could feel his length slowly swell up inside you, it was one of those indescribable feelings that you cherish forever.
“better start moving baby, this dicks not gonna ride itself.” he playfully demands, slightly bucking his hips up to feel some motion, “or do you want me to do all the work instead, hm ?” that offer was extremely tempting, but it’s not like he wasn’t going to do that later on.
“n-no, wanna ride you jakey… i’ll start moving” you stutter, shakily rutting your hips against him, he fills you up so perfectly as if his cock was designed solely for you. placing both palms on his broad shoulders for anchorage whilst raising your hips to now finally properly ride his fully erect.
“fuck… s-so big— so full..” you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how he stuffs you completely. his low grunts were the most melodic tone to your ears, along with his heavy panting and nails digging into the dips of your hips— he had your head spinning.
jake was enthralled with the fact only he could have you like this, a pretty little whining mess just for him. his cock throbbing in you intensely made you clench around the thickness, mouth falling back open to reveal a long strand of your saliva, this only brought him more joy as he pulled you in for another kiss, moaning nonstop into his mouth. you picked up a steady rhythm while riding him, moving up and down as you thread your fingers in his soft hair, feverishly making out with him. it all felt too good, he felt unreal, it became almost too much for you.
you gnawed at his lower lip when you pulled slightly away, leaving another string of your spit connected together; he drove you madly insane. his attention went soaring elsewhere now, producing wet kisses along your side profile, to your neck, gently sucking and biting on the skin to admit a reaction. a deliberate shriek leaves your mouth, feeling your muscles tighten as you tremble, he left more faint love bites to your collarbone and visible bite marks to your shoulder. he notices your struggle to stay balanced and shifts his arm, firmly on your waist to keep you in place.
“love the way you take this dick like a pro babe, you’re fucking amazing.” he praised you over and over, his words of encouragement helping you build quicker stamina, bouncing on his cock as if you were deprived of it for months (technically speaking you were, but maybe not for that long).
“you know i love you right princess ?” he husks, assuring that this’ll always mean something more than just sex to him, you were far from disposable, his love runs deeper than you could ever imagine.
“y-yes jake, i do. i love you t-too— mmh fuck !” your head plunges backward when he thrusts his cock back into you to match your movements, bringing one of his veiny hands to come rub your ass, sinking you further into him.
you kept a steady pace as you lower your middle finger to play with your clit as you rode him, the extra stimulation to your nub had your head dropping lower in reverse. you were so excruciatingly wet all you could hear were his hard breaths mixed with your soaking arousal slamming into his cock, only thing running through your mind was getting to milk him empty once you both reach your climax. a moan slips the both of your lips in unison as you scrunched your eyes shut from euphoric sense of pleasure.
“no no, look at me baby— keep ‘em open.” he ordered. your eyes flicker open once again, obediently following his rules, giving him the eye contact he so desperately craves.
“love looking at this pretty face every single fucking day,” he groans, still holding your hips securely in his grasp, “all of this is mine, mine, mine.” each time he’d say it another deep stroke would slam into your cervix. a final hit to your sweet spot had you trembling under him, crying out his name while screaming at the top of your lungs— you can tell he was getting close too by his chest heaving and sultry grunts and moans laced with an endless loop of your name being said.
your face contorts from your nearing orgasm imploding you, the o-shape formation of your lips taking over, “g-gonna come jake… can feel it !” a drawn out sigh leaving your breath as you catch it.
“yeah ? gonna make a mess all over this cock ?” he felt you clench around him at his every word, your hand reaches down to your bud caressing it slowly ready to reach your high again.
“go ahead baby, let go for me.” he grants your undying wish with those words, chasing your high as you finally let go, cream leaking down the sides of his cock.
“fuck, so good.. such a good girl for me.” he felt himself closer to the edge, “where do you want my cum this time babe ?” he asks impatiently.
“inside, inside me please !” you practically beg for it, eyes growing heavy, and your breathing becomes irregular. you soon felt your walls being coated with his thick, hot cum, filling you up with every last drop. you instantly collapsed onto his chest, completely drained and worn out by the end. the room remained silent for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s company, lost in his warm embrace.
“hmm.. what about now ?” jake broke the quite atmosphere with his random question, leaning closer to peck the side of your face, “how does my breath smell now ??” he teased from earlier’s incident.
“oh my god, shut up,” you turned away from him with hot cheeks. “what does it smell like huh ?” he laughed at your embarrassed state.
“go away !” you pushed him off of you to go do your little pee pee check. “smells like your yummy little pussy, donnit baby !” he watched you hop into the bathroom.
“my pee too loud ! can’t hear you !!” you shut the bathroom door with a tiny giggle.
you could still hear jake hysterically laughing in the background.
2 am smut hits differentt >:33 had to post a cute lil fluffy fic for my jakey pooh cs he’s so cutieful hehehe <3
also, hii lee ik ur reading this loll ilyyy .+(´^ω^`)+ .
@leeechin ♡︎
#enhypen smut#enhypen x reader#jake smut#sim jaeyun smut#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#enha smut#enhypen drabbles#sim jaeyun x reader
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Doctor Reid
PART 2 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST
Established Relationship Your boyfriend finally agrees to indulge in your fantasy by playing a very different kind of doctor, but on his own terms.
Content: (18+) 4k, roleplay, lingerie, finger sucking, nipple play, fingering, female oral, edging, soft!dom as per usual and him being what you guys like to call ‘a little shit’ a/n: season 12 Spencer can stay between my thighs all day every day. also, i have no knowledge on any medical terms this is just ✨vibes✨
10:34 AM
The box was heavier than you’d expected. It had been weeks since you’d ordered it—weeks of wondering if this would even get here without some awkward explanation. You’d agonized over every little detail, scrolling through pages of different costumes, wondering which stethoscope looked the most real.
And now it was finally here.
You didn’t waste a second. Your fingers worked quickly, ripping through the tape and cardboard until the contents spilled out. A crisp, folded white coat with perfectly pressed lapels and a stethoscope. And it was a real one, with cool metal tubing that felt heavy and authentic in your hand. Everything looked even better than you’d imagined.
You barely took the time to fold back the box flaps before hurrying to the next room, where your boyfriend sat comfortably on the couch, idly thumbing through a book.
“Spencer!” Your voice practically sang in excitement. “It’s here!”
He glanced up and lowered his book. "What's here?"
You grinned, bouncing on your toes as you closed the distance between you. "The doctor is officially in," you declared, holding up the white coat like a trophy, the stethoscope dangling from your other hand.
You watched as realization dawned across his face as he blinked a few times, processing the items in your hands, before letting out a soft, amused huff.
"Wow," he said slowly. "You really went all out."
"Of course I did,” you affirmed, grinning from ear to ear as you held the coat up to his chest, sizing him up as though he were already playing the part. “And it’s perfect.”
He leaned back into the couch, trying to put some distance between him and your infectious enthusiasm. “You know I’m not much of an actor.”
“Baby,” you drawled out, emphasizing the pet name with that affectionate tone you knew worked like a charm on him. It was the same sweet voice you used when you wanted something, the kind that could coax just about anything from him. “You’re not trying to win the Oscars, it’s sex. I promise you’ll like it.”
He shook his head like he was the most put-upon boyfriend in the world, letting out a mock sigh of exasperation, though the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips betrayed him. He closed his book and set it aside.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said at last, dragging the word out as though it physically pained him to say it. “If we do this on my own terms.”
“Your own terms? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see. And,” he reached out, pinching the collar of the coat between his fingers. “I’m not wearing that.”
You pouted. “What, you don’t want to look like a real doctor?”
“I think I can pull it off without the costume.” He flashed you a smile. “I’m technically still a doctor.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Your multiple doctorates don’t exactly qualify you for this, Doctor Reid.”
“I thought having six degrees would be enough for anything.”
“Too bad none of them is needed now,” you shot back, poking a finger at his chest playfully. “The role I’m thinking of requires a different kind of expertise. More…” You paused, pretending to mull it over, “Hands-on. Less theoretical.”
The laugh he let out was short and incredulous, his eyebrows raising as if he couldn’t believe your persistence. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”
You sighed dramatically. “Babyyyy.”
“You know, one of these days that tone isn’t going to work on me.”
“Oh, please, you love it,” you taunted, leaning in closer. “And don’t act like you’re not curious about this.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons, debating just how far he’d let you push him. And then there it was, that spark in his eyes. Faint but undeniable—the one that told you he was already half convinced, even if he pretended otherwise.
“Alright, fine,” he finally conceded. “I’ll play along.”
The grin you wore was at least a mile wide as you shoved the stethoscope into his hand.
1:52 PM
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Spencer looked up from his stack of papers, and as soon as he saw you standing there, dressed in nothing but lacy lingerie that clung to every curve, his mouth fell open. He blinked, trying to process the sight. Because yes, while you looked incredibly sexy, he was still baffled.
“Since when does a patient wear... that?"
You stepped closer, letting his eyes follow your every move as you shrugged with a hint of feigned innocence in your smile. "Well, I thought I'd save you some time, you know? Make it easier for your examination."
"Mm-hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his desk. "I'm not so sure this is standard procedure. I think you might be bending the rules here."
"Maybe. But I'm sure Doctor Reid can make a special exception, right?“
You shifted slightly, arching your back just enough to draw his attention. His eyes dropped to your chest, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he noticed the way your nipples strained against the sheer, barely-there fabric of your lingerie. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile, but it broke through anyway. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.
“Of course,” he finally replied. “I think I can be persuaded.”
With that, he leaned forward, sweeping his documents to the side in one smooth motion, before patting the now-cleared space on the desk in front of him.
“Take a seat, Miss,” he said, his voice turning low and authoritative that lit a spark of excitement inside you. “Let’s get started.”
You bit your bottom lip, fighting back a grin as the cool wood of the desk pressed against the backs of your thighs. You watched Spencer stand up and slip between your legs, his hands finding your knees and spreading them just enough to close the distance until the heat of his body was flushed against yours.
“So, tell me,” he started, his voice lowering as he fell into the role. “What seems to be the problem today?”
A flutter of nerves danced in your stomach, and suddenly you were very aware of what was happening. You’d initiated this—had begged for it, even—but it was something entirely different now that Spencer was towering over you. The confidence you’d felt earlier wavered for just a moment as his palms ran slowly up your thighs.
“I, uh,” your voice faltering slightly as his hands continued their slow journey. “I… I haven’t been feeling well.”
His fingers brushed lightly against the frills of your lingerie, teasing the lace between his fingers as he maintained eye contact. “Any symptoms I should know about? Dizziness? Shortness of breath?”
You nodded, heart pounding in your chest as his thumb traced small circles over the fabric. “All of the above.”
“I see.” His eyes flickered down to your lips. “Can you open your mouth for me?”
Slowly, you parted your lips, and the moment you did, Spencer’s hand came up to your chin. He tilted your head back gently, exposing the graceful line of your throat.
“I’m going to run a few tests now.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “It might feel intense, but I need you to stay relaxed and follow my instructions. Can you do that, Miss?”
You nodded as best as you could, mouth still open, and he gave you a small, approving smile.
“Stick your tongue out for me, just a little bit.”
You followed his instructions, extending your tongue just far enough to meet his touch. His eyes gleamed with focus as he brought his thumb to your mouth, pressing it lightly against your tongue.
“Hm,” he hummed, his eyes still fixed on your mouth like he was about to make a serious diagnosis. “I think I might be starting to see the problem here. But I need to check one more thing. Can you close your mouth around my finger?”
You complied, your lips wrapping around his thumb, feeling the rough pad of it pressing down on your tongue.
“Good,” he sighed, the approval in his voice like a reward in itself. “Now try giving it a gentle suck.”
You could feel the tension rising in you. Your cheeks hollowed as you did what he asked, and you couldn’t help but think back to the hesitation in his voice earlier, the way he’d claimed he wasn’t sure about this, that he wasn’t good at playing roles. You would’ve laughed if your mouth wasn’t occupied.
But you were an obedient patient, after all. You started sucking lightly, feeling the weight of his thumb resting against your tongue. There was something undeniably arousing about how he watched you, eyes heavy with focus, and that steady weight of his finger as he pretended to assess your reaction.
The first rush of arousal made itself known between your legs. You gradually increased the pressure, and before you knew it, you were bobbing your head. But just as you fell into a steady rhythm, his hand tightened on your chin to stop you.
“Just as I suspected,” he murmured after a moment, pulling his thumb away slightly to speak. “You’re suffering from an acute sensitivity.”
You swallowed, eyes wide as you played along, trying to keep your composure despite the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Is… is that serious?”
“I’ll need to do a further examination to understand the extent of your condition,” he mused, his eyes flickering between your face and your body as if assessing you before he straightened up slightly. “Let’s check your vitals now.”
He reached behind you, fingers brushing your lower back as he grabbed the stethoscope that had been sitting on the desk all day, the one you’d practically begged him to use. His expression turned serious, as though he were truly diagnosing you, and he leaned in close, pressing the flat side of the stethoscope against the pulse point on your neck.
“Deep breaths,” he instructed softly. You inhaled sharply, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest as the cool metal made contact with your skin. “Your heart rate is definitely elevated.”
He moved the stethoscope lower, brushing it along your collarbone, before pressing it just above your heart. You felt the thump, thump, thump of your pulse echo through the metal.
“Definitely fast,” he noted. “We might need to find out what’s causing such a reaction.”
And before you could respond, without warning, he moved the stethoscope lower, pressing the cold metal against your nipple. You let out a soft, involuntary moan as the sensation caught you off guard.
“Ah,” he muttered, tilting his head as if he were genuinely analyzing your response, his thumb grazing the lace-covered peak around the stethoscope. “I think we’ve found one of the pressure points.”
You watched as his fingers trailed up to the edge of your lingerie, dragging his knuckles along the lace before he tugged the fabric down, letting your breast spill free. Without a word, he pressed the stethoscope directly against your bare nipple. The sudden contact made you jolt, your back arching as a quiet whimper slipped from your lips, and your nipple hardened instantly under the cold metal.
“Heightened sensitivity to stimuli.” He moved the stethoscope in small circles. “Very, very responsive.”
His eyes flickered down as he used his free hand to tug down the other side of your lingerie, exposing your other breast. You tried to keep your cool, tried to pretend like his touch wasn’t turning you inside out, but it was getting harder by the second. And God, he knew it. The way he played with your other nipple, rolling it slowly between his thumb and forefinger like he had all the time in the world, was enough to make your thoughts scatter.
You tried so hard to keep your composure, but then he gently pinched and tugged on your sensitive nub, and a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips before you could stop it. With a satisfied grin, he pulled away.
You blinked, momentarily dazed. “What—?” you breathed out. “Why did you stop?”
“Medical procedure,” he said simply, his tone so casual it almost made you forget the heat of his touch moments earlier. “It’s important to give the patient time to stabilize.”
You shot him a bewildered, almost exasperated look that said are you serious right now? But he just smiled that slow, self-assured smile of his. He was clearly enjoying this far too much.
“We’re doing this my way, remember?”
You huffed in mock annoyance. “Really? That’s how we’re playing this?”
He brushed his lips on your shoulder. “That’s how we’re playing."
5:22 PM
“Doctor Reid?”
Spencer glanced up from where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow, casually stirring a hefty amount of sugar, the spoon clinking softly against the mug. “Hmm?”
The coolness of the counter pressed against your back as you watched him. “I think it’s getting worse.”
He didn’t say anything right away, just let his gaze rake over you, taking note of the way the thin fabric of your lingerie clung to your skin.
“Worse, how?” he finally asked, setting his mug down.
“It’s… spreading.”
“Spreading?” He mused. “Where, exactly?”
“Everywhere.” Your fingers nervously toyed with the hem of your lingerie, lifting it just enough to show a glimpse of bare skin beneath. “I really need your help, Doctor.”
His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sliver of skin you revealed. You watched as the realization flashed across his face. The corner of his mouth twitched as though he was fighting back a satisfied smirk, and you knew then that he’d taken the bait—he had to confirm just how bare you really were.
“Come here,” he ordered softly. He stepped back from the counter just enough to make space. “If it’s spreading, I have to conduct a full-body assessment.”
You slowly made your way to him with shaky legs.
“Up,” he instructed, giving the counter a gentle pat before letting his hands settle on your hips. “Sit.”
The cool marble touched the backs of your thighs as you hoisted yourself up. Then, without warning, Spencer’s hands were on your legs. He grabbed your calves, and before you could even catch your breath, he maneuvered your knees apart, placing the palms of your feet flat onto the countertop.
His eyes dropped between your legs, and the sight of you completely bare, your pussy lips glistening under the dim light, confirmed what he’d suspected. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he took in every detail, the way you were flushed, open, and dripping.
“Is there a reason,” he began slowly, his voice dropping to that dangerously soft, detached tone. “Why you’re not wearing anything underneath?”
“I… I thought it might make the examination easier.”
He smiled. “How considerate.”
Then with painstaking slowness, Spencer used both thumbs to part your folds, spreading you open completely to his gaze. It was almost clinical, the way he did it, as if he were studying you like some fascinating experiment. And it was working. You could feel the heat of embarrassment rushing in your veins. God, he had you spread open like this in your kitchen counter, and all you could think was how absolutely shameless this was.
He took his time, of course. Because why wouldn’t he? Spencer Reid didn’t rush experiments. No, he would spend all the time in the world analyzing, learning, committing every detail to memory. And right now, that focus was on you. He dragged his fingertips through your arousal, spreading it leisurely over your folds like he was testing its consistency, as if that slick heat was something he could measure and quantify.
And all you could do was hold your breath.
“I have to say,” he started again, his voice low and taunting as his fingers slid back and forth slowly, grazing just over your entrance without actually dipping inside. “You’re overly lubricated. Are you always like this?”
You exhaled a long breath, trying to steady the rapid rhythm of your heart. “Y-Yes.”
Spencer's smile deepened, his gaze never leaving your face as he pressed just a bit harder, testing your reaction. “Interesting. Do you get this wet from just a little touch, or does it have to be… more?”
“J-Just a little,” you admitted, hips instinctively shifting toward his fingers.
“Mmm,” he hummed approvingly, and finally—finally—he let his finger slide just inside your entrance, only to stop right there, buried to the first knuckle. He didn’t move any further. “Is that all it takes? Or do you need more to truly feel the effects?”
“I...” You let out a whimper when his finger twitched inside you. "M-More."
“And how much more, exactly? One finger? Two?”
“Two,” you gasped, every coherent thought slipping away under his touch. “Two… Doctor.”
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips, and without another word, he obliged, slipping a second finger inside you. The stretch made you bite back a moan as you felt every inch of him dragging against your inner walls. You couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers, pulling him deeper as your slick arousal coated every thrust.
“You’re even more responsive than I thought,” he noted, adjusting his angle to brush against that sensitive spot inside you. “Your partner must enjoy this… a lot.”
He was playing his role all too well. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as his speed picked up. "He... He does," you breathed out. "He—he loves it."
Spencer hummed thoughtfully. "Good," he said softly, almost as if to himself. "Because this is a very special condition that requires a great deal of attention. And I'm sure that you need all the attention you can get, don't you?"
“Yes,” you sighed, nodding frantically as the pleasure built in steady waves. “I… I need it.”
"I thought so. Patients with your symptoms typically respond very well to intensive treatment."
With that, his fingers began to thrust deeper, faster, harder. The sensation of his long fingers stretching you had you moaning as you felt every drag, every inch while he continued to work you open. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, he pressed a thumb firmly against your clit.
“Oh, fuck.”
He circled your swollen nub in slow, delicious patterns, and your body clenched around his fingers. This was it. You could feel it. The way your pulse pounded in your ears, the heat pooling deep in your core, every sensation building higher and higher. You could feel that sweet, sweet edge approaching, so close you could practically taste it—
And then he stopped.
Everything. Stopped.
“Spencer!”
He didn’t flinch, didn’t rush to soothe the ache in your body. He simply slid his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing.
“Open your mouth.”
You parted your lips, and he slipped his fingers inside, letting you taste yourself. The mix of your own slick and the heat of his skin made you moan softly, your tongue swirling around his fingers
“You see, you can be very responsive,” he commented in a low, measured tone. “But I think we should take a break, rushing the treatment would only compromise the results.”
He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, like he wasn’t purposefully doing this to drive you insane. You wanted to laugh, and you did. But it was a defeated, breathless sort of laugh around his fingers, because you knew the man settled between your thighs still held all the power over you.
08:56 PM
“Babe?”
He laughed softly, not even glancing up from the book he was reading. “No more Doctor?”
You ignored the amusement in his voice as you walked up to the bed where he lay sprawled out, so casually composed, flipping another page like he hadn’t spent the entire day driving you mad. You reached the edge of the mattress, shadow casting over him, and his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours.
“I wanna cum.”
Spencer’s smile widened, the kind that made your stomach flip with both excitement and irritation, and he placed the book down beside him. His hand reached out lazily to brush your thigh.
“Yeah?” he drawled, tilting his head to the side. “Does my sweet girl want to be taken care of?”
You nodded eagerly. “Please.”
“Well, I do like it when you ask nicely,” he muttered, one hand sliding up to grip your waist. “And you’ve been very patient all day.”
“I have.”
“I think you deserve it.”
“I do.”
He let out an amused laugh. “Alright, lay down on the bed.”
You didn’t hesitate. You quickly shifted, lying back against the pillows. Spencer’s hands were on you immediately, gripping your thighs and dragging you toward the edge of the mattress. The room spun for a moment when he settled onto his knees. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, his fingers squeezing your calf as he pressed a soft, teasing kiss against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
“Comfortable?”
You nodded, and just as the breath left your lungs, his fingers brushed against the slick, wet folds of your pussy. He traced the outline of your lips gently, gathering the moisture that had been building all day.
“Poor baby,” he cooed sympathetically, his breath ghosting over your wetness. And just when you thought you couldn’t take another moment of teasing, he pressed his tongue flat against you and licked a long strip from your entrance to your clit.
A desperate whine escaped your lips. “Please…”
Spencer didn’t miss a beat. He licked another long, languid strip to your clit, swirling his tongue around it before flattening it again, dragging slowly just to savor the way you trembled beneath him. One of his hands gripped your thigh firmly, keeping your leg steady over his shoulder, while the other slid underneath, lifting your hips closer to his mouth.
And when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth with a gentle suck, a choked moan tore from your throat.
“Spencer,” you whimpered. “Oh god…”
The vibration of his low groan reverberated through you. His fingers gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open and pinned beneath him. You weren’t sure what was more overwhelming. The sensation of his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit or the wet, obscene sounds of him slurping against your soaked folds. Either way, it was driving you wild, pushing you closer and closer to that edge where everything blurred and all you could do was feel.
And then his tongue shifted, dipping lower to probe your entrance. He pushed inside, exploring, seeking, like he was determined to reach every possible inch of you. And damn it, it felt like he could. Each thrust and twist of his tongue sent a surge of delicious heat through your body, and you couldn’t help the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders, squeezing him tighter.
You could barely breathe as the tension coiled tighter, so fucking tight you thought you might snap. And he knew it—he could feel it, the way your walls clenched around his tongue, the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders. And still, he didn’t let up, thrusting his tongue into you deeper, faster, while his nose rubbed insistently against your clit.
He kept going, over and over, tasting you like you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. It was too much and yet not enough, and soon you couldn’t stop the desperate chant of his name spilling from your lips. You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for anymore—more? mercy?—all you knew was that you on the brink of falling apart.
One last stroke was enough to shatter you completely.
It was almost embarrassing how quickly you came, but with the way he was working you over, you didn’t stand a chance. The moment you felt yourself tip over, everything broke—your body tensed, your back arched sharply off the bed, and a loud moan tore from your lips. It was like your body had a mind of its own, hips grinding desperately against his mouth as if seeking every last bit of friction you could steal.
And when you finally came down, you were a breathless, panting mess. Spencer gave your clit one final, teasing suck, before he pulled back. He crawled up your body, hands sliding up your sides to push your lingerie higher. Gentle, warm kisses tickled your stomach as he threw you a smug look that only he could pull off.
“How was that,” he murmured, pausing to kiss just beneath your ribs. “For your little fantasy?”
Mind-blowing. Intense. Better than I imagined.
“Well,” you managed to say, fingers tangling into his hair. “If that’s how you plan on treating me, Doctor, I might just have to get sick more often.”
Spencer’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin, and he nipped gently at your side.
“I think it’s best for you to do a regular check-up, then,” he teased, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he crawled further up, settling his body over yours. “Doctor’s orders.”
You couldn’t stop the soft, breathless laugh that escaped your lips as you pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his mouth.
You’d be more than happy to comply.
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⟁ SENSITIVE ft. BOOTHILL.
⠀ — “you get all excited for me to fix you up and call you a good boy.”
⠀ OR
⠀ — a sensitive spot during a repair leaves him melting into your callused little hands.
⚠︎ mechanic!reader, so much flirting im kind of sick, he whimpers i have an agenda, this is like 90% dialogue sorry, he wants u sooo bad. wc 1k, from this req.
“y’know darlin,” boothill managed to breathe out through a taut jaw and clenched teeth. “you bein’ this close ain’t exactly helpin’ me focus none.”
your fingers were slow, careful, precise as they pushed a few tiny wires apart, giving view deeper inside the little panel on boothill’s throat.
the position you two stood in was one all too familiar, boothill perched on your workbench with you between his thighs— the only new variables being your face way closer than he’s used to and your fingers proding around in his surprisingly sensitive wires.
it was an…odd sensation, to say the least. a small unpleasant stinging that simultaneously stimulated a rather pleasant shiver up his back with every small poke.
“time and place, cowboy.”
you responded quietly, tone a little flat with your tease from concentration.
“can’t help lettin’ my mind— wander, can i now?” his breath hitched a bit as you nicked a particularly touchy wire.
“if you let me finish this,” you lifted your head enough to meet his eyes, free hand gently smoothing out the crease in his brow. “i’ll let you show me just how wild your imagination can get.”
boothill bit back a scruff chuckle at that.
“that enough incentive for you to sit still?”
“well, i reckon that’s plent— mmgh!”
a pair of mechanical hands tightly grab onto your hips as his shoulders tense, a knee-jerk result of your tweezers finding the out of place wire you’d been looking around for.
your hands paused, opting to ignore the way he audibly whimpered for raising your gaze a second time to check on him.
“you hangin’ in there?”
boothill’s fingers flexed as they held onto you, relaxing from squeezing your pants to a more gentle cradle of your hips.
“you know,” he swallowed thickly— as if his throat could even dry out, likely just a natural reflex— “you got a way of makin’ fixin’ me up feel real special.”
the slight waver to his voice isn’t lost on your ears— it was quite loud in them, actually.
“i’m hangin’ in fine, don’t worry your pretty head none.”
carefully retracting your tweezers, you stood up straight enough to lightly push his hat up, giving view to his face and cupping your hand over a blue-hued cheek.
“wanna take a break?”
he nearly had to clutch his chest with the gentle concern that laced your tone.
boothill knew he was flushed, was purposefully avoiding looking you in the eye because a few pokes to some sensitive spots had him sliding his hands to your waist like a lifeline— not that what he could distantly feel of your skin against the synthesised nerves of his palms weren’t doing much to cool him off anyway. but he did…relax, somewhat.
he always enjoyed when you’d touch his face, getting to feel all the unique little details of you; the gentle drum of your pulse and the little calluses from your tools. it somehow always manages to make the tension in his body ebb away, draining with an exhale that lightly fans against your wrist.
he shook his head with a quiet clear of his throat— another unnecessary function that served more as a tick than anything.
“nah, nah i’m alright.” he assured. it didn’t make him any less embarrassed to be having such a reaction.
big bad criminal until you get a little too fudgin’ touchy, apparently.
“let’s just get this finished up, yeah? maybe we can move onto somethin’ more pleasant.”
your thumb gave two gentle taps to his cheekbone before it pulled away, reaching for your tweezers for the nth time.
“that’s my boy.”
oh how boothill’s chest bloomed at the simple praise, the endearing ‘my’ that slipped in with it licking up his ribs and curling to rest along where a drumming heart should have been.
“jus’ be gentle with me, will ya sugar plum?”
“you know i've always got ya.”
each plug or untangle of a little yellow or red cable had his systems humming, fingers occasionally curling into your hips every time a little surge left him biting his cheek a little harder.
“we’re almost done,” your voice is icing on an already cavity-inducing cake, though he’ll gladly take a toothache if it’s for you. “just a little longer.”
boothill was going fist to fist and losing with the urge to completely melt under your deft fingers.
“…keep talkin’ to me,” he requested with a murmurmurmur, cautious not to move too much. “helps me stay on t—” he had to bite back another whimper, cheek going between his teeth and eyes going to the ceiling. “—task.”
boothill didn’t miss the little tug of your lips.
“you know, you do this thing when you get shy.” you mused quietly, breath meeting the shell of his ear. “you bite your cheek ‘n look away. it’s cute.”
boothill couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at your deduction. he tried to regain some of his composure, though the colour in his cheeks continued to betray him.
“i don’t know ‘bout shy,” he rumbled, keeping his voice steady as he could. “but i’ll take cute if it means i get to hear you keep sweet talkin’ me. keep this up and i might start enjoyin’ these repairs a lil too much.”
his voice was a little strained, though still held his usual humour.
“like you don’t love em already.” you teased back, gently closing the panel on his neck as it re-sealed with a small hiss. “you get all excited for me to fix you up, call you a good boy and send you on your merry way.”
“i’m still waitin’ on that last bit, y’know?”
you shook your head, popping his hat off his head and placing it on your own.
“good boy,” you pinched his cheek endearingly. “you’re all done. do you want a lolipop too?”
“think i deserve somethin’ a lil sweeter than a lolipop, don’t you sugar?” boothill’s face unknowingly deepens at the sight of you in his hat, brave words betrayed by a nervous tap in his finger and more blue to the apples of his cheeks.
“we’ll save it for when you’ve got a real booboo,” you took his hat off, using the brim to lightly tilt his chin up and give him a tender kiss on the cheek. for such a heavy hunk of metal, he nearly began to float.
“but there’s something to hold your sweet tooth for now.”
…
“boothill?”
“y..yeah, sweet pea?”
“you’re overheating.”
⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?
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