#rub his fingers on my knuckles to reassure me that he's there

[clancykisser]

I'M ON A FERAL STREAK ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE CLANCY OHHHH MY GOD

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I am bouncing around the walls screaming and shaking and crying and yelling and biting the bars of my enclosure JUST!!! JUST!!!!

He's always such in a constant battle with his mental health. He always thinks he's not good enough, or not worth the trust people put in him. He has to be strong! And brave! And despite his fear towards the people that hurt him all of his life, he knows that he's the only one that can stop them. HE DOESN'T RUN FROM HIS CHALLENGES! HE FACES THEM HEAD ON EVEN THO HE'S SCARED!

And I WANNA BE THERE WITH HIM SO BAD...I want to be by his side. He's never alone. Not with me. Not with Torch. I think he thinks he has to do so many things alone. Far away from everyone so they don't get hurt. To push everyone away but I won't let him. He'll always confide in me. He's always going to be mine. He's my heart, my soulmate, and everything in this world I love so so much. He's a moon in my sky while I'm the sun. A fire where I'm a forest, he eats at me.

He's beautiful. He's so, so brave. He's so soft. He's just...so perfect.

I think I want him to be the love of my life forever Q/////Q

[sobbingscripter]

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼wc. 2248🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

From a young age, you had the ability to absolutely ruin what would be a heartfelt moment.

“Mark… you’re half Viltrumite.”

“You’re half little girl too. Chicken.”

Nolan lets out a breath, blue eyes narrowing at your intrusion but he doesn’t have the heart to send you away. Not when you’re holding out a glass of orange juice, tiny hands clasped around the surface of the glass, so careful to not spill.

“So, is Mark gonna get deported?” Your tiny brows scrunch, lips tugged into a frown and Nolan snorts.

“He’s not that kind of alien.”

You think back on that conversation as you remain seated on the wooden deck, face turned towards the Sun, and you can barely make out the way Mark and Nolan’s figure stand out like sore thumbs in the endless blue.

And then, Mark’s getting too close to the ground. Too close, too fast and your heart nearly stops in your chest.

And with a flurry of dust, Mark leaves behind a crater where he hits the ground and you’re barely able to cough away the dust, hands having the sand away from your face before you watch as Nolan helps him up. Gloved hands dust the blades of grass and soil from his shoulders.

“You want a sip of my water?” You hold out your water bottle as an offer and Mark scrunches his nose, shaking his head. “I’m good.” He reassures you softly, before looking back towards Nolan and you can barely deny the fact that you’re crossing your legs over one another to relieve the tension in your thighs.

You feel like a sick freak.

A few scuffs on the backs of his arms, raven strands slightly tousled from his flight and you’re feeling every hole on your body clench. Mark looks so focused, jaw clenched as he hangs on Nolan’s every word, brows creased in concentration and you watch the way his tongue peeks out between his lips, wetting the plump bottom one and you watch the flesh pinken.

And you swallow.

But once you’re snapping out of your reverie, you’re already watching Mark curl up, clutching his chest ad your eyes widen, knees scuffing at the grass at the speed that you’re moving, kneeling at his side and rubbing his back.

“Stop coddling him.” Nolan instructs, jaw clenching at the way Mark’s body contorts, hiding his face in the soft pudginess of your belly. And your fingers card through his hair, lips tugging downwards into a concerned frown before you look up at Nolan.

“Mr Nolan, aren’t you maybe pushing him a bit too hard?”

“Are you telling me how to raise my son?” There’s a tinge of defensiveness in his voice and your lips press together in a thin line.

“No sir.” You nearly grit the words out, helping Mark to his knees instead, dusting the sand from his side, using the long sleeve of your T-shirt to wipe at the salty tears that brim at his lashline.

“I mean, I only kept a hamster with diagnosed anxiety alive for 10 years.”

“You hurt me…” Mark’s face damn near crumples, leaning against your side as he stares up at Nolan.

“I… didn’t mean to hit you that hard… I’m sorry.” Nolan helps Mark to his feet, and you dust at your knees as you come up, staring down at your soil-caked sneakers. Freshly cleaned converse, for nothing.

And Mark glances towards you, following your gaze to your feet. Scuffed sneakers and soil dusted socks.

“I’ll clean your shoes.” He reassures softly, before letting out a cough.

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

“I don’t think you’re a loser.”

Your voice is quiet as you sit in the centre of Mark’s bed, feet tucked beneath your ass as you watch him move around his room, sock-covered feet padding across the carpet with unrest.

You try not to be a pervert.

But he looks a bit more muscular than you remember him being. Wide shoulders with the perfect amount of delves to showcase toned cords of muscle, a broad back lined with sinewy muscles and you curl your lips inward when you watch the flexing flesh shift beneath his skin. And you nearly bite your knuckles when he shrugs on a T-shirt, moving towards you and he plops down onto his bed.

His face pressed into your belly, arms limp at his sides and you let out a sigh, raking your fingers through his damp strands, feeling the way they slip from your grasp.

“I mean, I don’t think you’re any bigger of a loser than you were before you get your powers.” You correct and you feel the way his chest rumbles as he laughs, before peering up at you through his lashes.

“You’re such an asshole.” He snickers, before pressing his cheek against your diaphragm.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” Mark mumbles softly, fingertips pressing into your sides just a bit, as he tries to focus on the gentle thump.

But you’re sweating. Because now there’s pressure to calm down.

“Can you hear the shit that’s making it’s way through my colon?”

And Mark laughs loudly, dimples deepening in his cheeks and you catch a glimpse of pointy canines that glint in the dim light of the lamp on his nightstand.

“I was trying not to focus on it.” He jokes with a snort, before sitting up, hands moving to rest on the fat of your thighs, exposed by the cottony fabric of your nightshorts. And Mark glances at you, sharp brown eyes drinking in the sight of you slumped against his pillow, surrounded by his comforters and the smell of him is clinging to you.

Fuck, he can smell himself on your skin and it’s a heady combination.

And it’s like silence blankets you both.

Prolonged eye contact and you can feel the way his thumb trace indiscernible patterns on the soft skin of your thighs, his gaze never wavering from where your lashes flutter, and his eyes lower. Only for a second to your lips.

He thinks it’s unfair that he’s never felt them against his and Mark doesn’t know what possesses him, but he leans in.

Moonlight forms a halo on his hair, his hands shift to your hips and your breath nearly stutter.

And much like Mark does, he pussies out.

Instead, bringing a hand up to pick at an eyelash on your cheek. You know damn well there’s no fucking eyelash. But instead, you shift back, putting a bit of distance between the two of you.

And you swallow.

“I should probably head home. It’s like, what, 10?”

Mark’s brows furrow and like a switch in your brain, your hand lifts, your thumb smoothing out the crease between his brows

“I thought you were sleeping over?”

And you need to think of a quick lie.

“While you were in the shower, I found your bottle of lotion and your elbows are still dry. So, I don’t want you to be beating your dick while I’m under the same roof as you.”

You make relatively quick work of escaping from the space between him and his bed, planting your feet on the lush carpet and you stretch your arms overhead.

Mark tries to be respectful when your shirt raises a bit, exposing the cute dimples in your lower back and he bites the inside of his cheek, jaw tensing with the action before he quips back.

“What makes you think I haven’t done it in your house?”

“What makes you think I haven’t done it in yours?”

You’re quick with your words and it’s almost shameful how sweaty they make Mark’s palms, the image engraved into his mind before he can stop it.

The way you dainty fingers would circle your clit over your panties, hopefully that pretty pastel blue panties that he caught a glimpse of when you were rifling through your drawers last week. The way your gusset would darken and he can’t deny that he’d love to hear the way you breathe his name out.

But no.

It’s not like that. He thinks. He hopes.

“You’re sick.” He grumbles under his breath, and you’re not sure if he’s talking to you, or to himself. Especially with the way the corners of his mouth tug downwards.

“Maybe.” You shrug. “Or maybe William’s jerked off in your house. We’ll never know.”

And Mark grimaces.

“Go home.” A pause. “And text me when you get there.”

“I literally live next door.”

And Mark stares at you. Blank and unreadable.

“Text me. When you. Get home.”

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

Mark takes a nice, deep breath, boxers lowered just enough and he glances towards the ceiling, mind working overtime to conjure up one of his nightly fantasies.

But Amber’s face is muddled in his memories and Mark’s heart starts to pound nervously when your features come to view in his mind’s eye, unwelcome like an intrusive thought.

And Mark lets out an exhausted groan when he feels a bead of precum roll onto his fist.

“No.” He huffs, eyes squeezed shut as he tries his utmost hardest to picture who he wants to. “Amber. Amber. Amber.”

But he slowly softens in his grasp and Mark takes a deep breath.

“Shit.”

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌻🌼🪻୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“You’re never here this early.” Mark hums, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you, arms raised over your head as you proceed to hang banners across the ceiling, William’s distracted hold on the ladder seems to be enough to keep you steady. “What’s the occasion?”

“Student body elections are coming up and I’m trying to get picked for something.” You answer. “I’m trying to incorporate crop tops into the football team’s official practice uniform.”

“God’s work.” William sighs before glancing down the hallway, a sharp intake of breath at the sight of Todd.

“Doesn’t look like Amber’s here to save you today, Grayson.” Todd’s voice causes you to tear your eyes away from the banner. Well, actually, it’s the sound of Mark being shoved against a metallic locker that makes you look.

And you let out a breath.

Reaching into your pocket, and you pull out the thick roll of duct tape, before throwing it at the back of Todd’s head. The burly hands that grasp the front of Mark’s sweater instead, move to cradle the back of his head before he glares at you.

And he shoves William out of the way, instead, grabbing the ladder and beginning to shake it.

Your fear of heights kick in rather quickly, but not as quick as Mark grabbing the back of Todd’s T-shirt, fist raised and you yelp.

“Mark, no!”

Your voice stuns him, but it’s enough for Todd’s hand to connect with Mark’s nose.

You know it doesn’t hurt, but the shock of it still makes Mark’s eyes tear up. That’s regular anatomy.

“Shit!”

And your eyes widen when you spot that tungsten and diamond skull ring on Todd’s middle finger.

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“I’m sorry for… You know, getting you punched.”

Mark hums softly, wincing when you press a cold cloth against his nose, clearing away the blood and he watches you carefully.

Your brows furrow in concentration, you chew at your bottom lip as you try to be as gentle as you can. And you’re just so pretty. Long lashes, big doe eyes and such soft lips, glossy with whatever smells so sickeningly sweet that it’s making his head hurt. And Mark looks up at you, one of your hands holding his chin to keep his head steady, while your hand cleans at his nose.

And his hand moves, resting on the fat of your thigh.

“You’ve got really pretty eyes…” Mark murmurs softly. “They’re like… something you’d find in nature.”

He swallows, his heart pounding when he feels the way your grip on his chin shifts, your cheeks heating up just enough for him to feel the change in your temperature.

“Uh… Thank you. You’ve got a really nice Cupid’s bow.” You respond, and damn it, you wish you didn’t.

Because your eyes glance down towards his lips without your consent, and you’re staring. And Mark can feel you staring.

But he’s staring too. Looking at your plump bottom lip, soft flesh raw bitten but so glossily inviting.

God. He hopes those aren’t the only pair of glossy lips on you.

And Mark’s fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs, and he’s watching the sunlight dapple across your features and he thanks whoever decided on windows that face the door of the sick room.

His hand moves, and he’s about to cup the side of your face because he’s so painfully sure.

“Mark? Let’s go, buddy.”

Nolan’s intrusion makes Mark’s hand stop mid-air, his hand fisting just beside your face and he curls his lips inward, a deep pit of embarrassment and internal cringe forming in his belly and to save face, his knuckles brush against your cheek. And he makes a soft, explosion sound.

“See ya, kiddo.”

It’s affectionate and cute. But in a loser way.

Mark watches as you rise, pressing a kiss against his forehead and you smile up at Nolan, the man pressing a kiss against the crown of your head before looking at Mark.

“Uhhh.” Nolan snorts once you’re out of earshot. “Wanna tell me what that was?”

Mark cradles his head in his hands, body prickling with embarrassment and he is, in fact proved wrong about his belief that super-people don’t wanna crawl into holes.

“Just take me home, Dad.”

T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T

@lucky-beheaded ; @queen-of-gotham ; @coldvirginbitch ; @wittyjasontodd ; @a-n-a-n-a1 ; @dearlyya ; @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha ; @jasontoddswhitestreak ; @daydreams-and-peace ; @misstyy12 ; @fruticake ; @httpstes ; @waterflowersblog ; @glowinthedarkjellyfish ; @vm4879bb-blog ; @monaekelis ; @radlovesfics ; @allycat4458 ; @bigbodycity ; @feral010 ; @anesthesia-4rizzle ; @princesstrunkz ; @blackfox774 ; @sh1d0uryus31 ; @your-lovely-rose26 ; @slugstarzz ; @ripcolel0l ; @strawbiemilk420

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. boob obsessed!nanami kento x wife!female reader. smut, pwp. fīngering, (big) tīddy appreciation. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, dear, adorable’. not proofread !

“lay still, sweetheart,” kento murmurs as he presses a sweet kiss against your forehead. your back arches off the couch as your cunt eagerly swallows two of his callused fingers. while his hand is busy stimulating your lower body, his mouth refuses to detach from your chest area.

you can’t possibly comply to his command with all the mind blowing stimulation you’re receiving. a choked up moan escapes your throat when kento gently tugs one of your nipples between his teeth, “c-can’t, ken. can’t stay still.”

your husband doesn’t respond to your whines. he isn’t ignoring you on purpose—that he would never do—he’s simply too occupied shoving his face between your tits.

this is perfect to him. kento had been tired ever since coming back from work - but now that he has his adorable wife beneath him, praising him for all which he’s doing - he’s energised once again.

the sight of him freeing your breasts from the bra you were wearing, was more than enough to make him forget all about his previously experienced stress. the blonde man is weak when it comes to you, but especially when it comes to your perfectly shaped pair of tits.

“mmh, can’t get enough of you,” kento sighs in content while his tongue flicks back and forth over the same nipple, circling the areola right before sucking it. his free hand squeezes your other boob—his brows furrowing and his eyes closed as he loses himself in the feeling of your plump flesh in and around his mouth.

your hips buck against his fingers that are knuckles deep into your pussy. your wetness sticks to his index and middle finger until they’re glistening with a coat of your slick. “y-you’re gonna make me lose my mind, hubby,” you mewl as your head lolls back and your lips fall apart to let out the most erotic sounds that kento has ever heard.

his wrist moves back and forth slowly before changing pace again, quickening the tempo as his fingertips reach the deepest point they can. he curls them and rubs against your velvety walls, trying to find that one spot that makes you come undone beneath him.

“that’s all right, dear. it’s all right if you do,” kento replies to your soft cries, reassuring you that he’d love to see you lose your mind over the pleasure he is giving you, “mhh—i want to feel and see my wife cum, okay? do it for me.” his mouth doesn’t stop placing kisses and hickeys over your beautiful tits.

every time you look down at his handsome face, you’re met with the arousing sight of his green eyes darkening with lust. the way he stares down at your chest to admire his work - the saliva and hickeys staining the flesh - is so hot. it’s a mix of a loving, lustful and possessive look.

“i’m all yours, you know that right?” kento asks after detaching his lips from your left breast, his tongue still lightly peeking out, a trail of saliva still connecting your chest and his mouth. he brushes some hair from your face before his eyes dart back down to your tits,

“mhm,” you nod, to which your husband smiles. he presses a couple pecks all over your breasts, hoping to kiss the soreness away. no matter how rough kento is, he always makes sure to let you know that he still loves you all the same throughout the intimacy.

he cups your right breast and sucks on it a couple times, his eyes closing and his brows furrowing to appreciate the taste of your flesh. a low groan leaves his lips before he releases your nipple with a soft ‘pop’, taking a deep breath in to calm himself down.

kento can be here all day if you let him. attached to your tits, sleeping on them, sucking on them, watching them jiggle and bounce when he’s thrusting inside of your warm pussy . .

“i’m all yours, too,” you add after taking a couple breaths as well. you’re so flustered, embarrassed by how much you’re going crazy over his mouth and finger work. the squelchy sounds of your cunt echo throughout the living room.

kento hums in appreciation to your comment. his thumb presses down on your clit before he slides his other two fingers out of you. he spreads your folds, lubricating your entrance with your own sticky juices.

“good . . . then,” he starts off, taking a second to look you in the eyes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. kento muffles your little whines before pulling back slightly, putting his forehead against yours while he prepares to ruin you after making you feel loved and appreciated;

“i’ll show you what it truly means to be mine, sweetheart.”

[queenendless]

ARISE

A/n: As we are now in a new year, time to write on some new fandoms.

Rewatched S1 dubbed — and yes Aleks Le as Sung Jinwoo is the reason why cause he's so damn fine~! Listen to his voice as you read this, I insist! I just need to get my Sung Jinwoo fix. Therefore—

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x F!Adult!Reader

CW: Explicit 21+ MATURE content inside. SOME SPOILERS but not much. Morning smut, implied mentions of suicide, reader got reincarnated as a humanoid magic beast and serves Jinwoo now.

DON'T PLAGARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. Rather reblog like and follow pls n thx.

"Wakey wakey." That teasing low purr in the crook of your neck had you giggling tiredly as the ticklish sensation pulled you out of slumber. Spooning you from behind, his legs entangled with yours, Jinwoo breathes in your scent, sucking tenderly. Taking his enormous hand that rested on your hip into yours, just to play with his fingers, made him smile.

“Don't go.” You murmur, raising that hand to brush petal soft pecks to his knuckles.

"Come on, now. I gotta get ready." His slurred gruffness were telltale signs he was in no hurry.

"The world is your kingdom now, Jinwoo. It'll still be there tomorrow." Your reassurance meant you curled further into your side of the bed, the tendrils of slumber creeping back in. His deep chuckle trailed butterfly pecks from your cheek, down the pane of your neck, then up to your ear. "Stay here with me, please."

"Even the Shadow Monarch needs to lead his guild." His words were one thing. His wandering hands were another story. "But, if you rather keep me in bed all day, I suppose you could persuade me." His very presence chased away the bitter freezing loneliness you were accustomed to, submerging you in his comfortable burning embrace.

"God, you're something else." You turned in his grasp, finally able to face him and shower him with your smooches, such smitteness brought warmth blooming within him. Not to mention his bulge rubbing against your crotch sent sparks shooting through you both.

Flashes of memories surfaced in your mind. Such a whiplash it is that the most powerful hunter in this world that you personally witness slaughtering every beast and human that dares stand in his way, soaked in their blood, could be the very same man that held such requited smoldering endearment for you.

The butterflies and flips occurring inside from every gaze, touch and word given are always worth it.

"God has been long gone from this world ... just Rulers and Monarchs now ... and yours is beside himself. To think his favorite beast on the streets ... is a lamb in the sheets~" That rumbling deep voice roughly heaved in between kisses. Opening your mouth so willingly had him grinning against you as his velvety tongue entangled yours, lost in the thralls of the passionate dance within. “My favorite~”

His sculpted hands slithered underneath your top, lightly brushing up against your sides, then your tummy. One hand stayed to fondle your cushiony mounds; he never gets tired of feeling you up.

"A human from another world ... reborn as a humanoid magic beast." Pinching, pulling and rubbing your pearls between his long sly fingers had you melting as your muffled mewling grew frequent. “Failed by those closest to you, abandoned to that pain and fear … a kindred soul.”

His other sly hand slips under your undies, cupping your dripping sex. Your moaning had him smirking as he nibbled your bottom lip in tune with his thumb insistently rubbing your clit and the tips of his fingers brushing around your cunt. "Isn't this what you wanted? To be touched by me? Your beloved King?"

"Mmm yes~" His voice always got you going, especially when those four fingers filled you up well, curling and scissoring in their trek straight to your burning core. "Aaah~" Your hips rutting into his hand got him bricked up through his sweatpants. "Nngh~" Wringing your hands through those dark messy locks and stroking along his shaved undercut got him trembling, all to reel him in and keep you as grounded as you could currently be in your haze filled state. "Don't stop~"

"So touch starved." Your sharp gasp was the sign he reached your bundle of nerves, prodding it with such vigor, stuffing you right up to his wrist, lathered up in your cream. “To let me be the first and only one to shower you with such devotion ... I'll forever be grateful for that blessing." Tears of ecstasy leave your e/c eyes and he kisses them away, his ebony bangs tickling your moaning burning face, the flames of passion stoked for you as you come undone. "My Queen~"

His creamy hand then pulled right out of your valley, leaving you desperately wanting him to fill up your emptiness. Your faith got restored, however, as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, revealing the chiseled marble sculpture that is his physique.

He knows the sight alone makes your mouth water. Your hands traversed the panes of his soft firm pecs, that thick neck, those broad shoulders, even these sculpted biceps that flexed as his daily tasked push ups came with the added benefit of pushing down to your laying form, being enthralled by your rewarding kisses. Such reliable stability beneath that lean stature of resilience.

Your own eyes burned with the glow of enchantment, the image of who he used to be versus who he has become reminded you of yourself. How the physical and mental scars that plagued your old life for years on end shaped you into who you have become. A magic beast serving the Shadow Monarch. What a pairing.

His cream coated hand slips under his own waistband, pulling his beast free from its confines, using your cum as his lube to be more prepared.

His other hand cupped under your knee, draping your leg over his shoulder. "Wouldn't you rather I give you tongue~?" That low toned growl already got your other leg willingly draped over his other broad shoulder already as that mouth sunk into your wet folds.

“Yes love~!” Ripping such a concupiscent symphony outta your mouth. His other hand couldn't help but jack off to your venereal cries. The scorching presence his mouth gave as the starvation had him ravaging, suckling as much as making out with your now squirting folds.

His cheeks filled with your essence, dexterously aiming his tongue to drive you further up the tower of sins. Your spasming hips only buried his face deeper in, inhaling your scent as his nose got pushed in your pubes, his light yet sturdy weight. Those lidded silver eyes flashed violet as their predatory gaze marveled in your sweaty flushed expressions due to his ravenous gorging, your voice shrieking as you unloaded, his creamy covered lips curling swallowing gratefully.

“You're truly decadent.”

Your body and soul trembled in anticipation for what's to come; your legs falling off his shoulders to hug his firm hips. So did him, leading his dick slowly into your loosened yet smothering grip. "Let me make love to you." He grunted, you sucking him up as greedily as his cock started into the slow steady rhythm stroking your creamy grip.

“Fuck me! Please~! Don't stop~! Don't ever stop!” Your unhinged shouts of passion hit his ear as you hugged his neck, his own hot breath hitting your shoulder as he picked up the lace into the feverish fueled tapping; skin squelching and smacking noises bouncing off the walls.

“Fuck~! You’re heaven incarnate~!” Your sob filled yell riled up his necessity to bust his nuts in you even more. His feral groans in response had you squeezing him in a vice state, marking the side of his neck into a bruising suck, drawing scratches along his chiseled shoulder blades.

His own fingers dug into your rolling hips, finger shaped bruises painting your skin in kind, while his sharp teeth marked along your shoulder and neck, marking you as his and his alone, raising you further to the apex.

“I’ll fuck you until the world ends. This needy pussy deserves to be ravaged every waking moment. Every inch of you is mine to worship. Your beautiful womb filled up with my seed. That's my dream. To have you as my wife. To raise a family together. To make you Mrs. Sung!”

“Yes, Jin~! Yes~!” Your choked up agreement got lost in the sloppy, tongue filled kisses as you came a third in a row, making a cum circle around his shaft, painting his rippling thighs and the once pure sheets.

Your orgasmic greeting met with his, shooting right into your womb quite thickly, lifting you in his shredded grasp, externally and internally. Thrusting his still oozing libido into your heavenly valley like a madman to chase that euphoric high.

Your head limply rested on his shoulder like a pillow, fatigued mewls spilling out as the burning weight of his essence settled into your abdomen. Carefully setting you down on the bed, Jinwoo collapsed on his side, heaving slowly and deeply, his dazed eyes gazing at yours, glowing radiantly as the sunlight slipping in outlined your form.

Still submerged in you, now limp dicked, his muscular arm draped over you, pulling you both closer, all to have you curling into his slickened torso, breathing in your intermingled scent.

“Now call in sick.” Your weak request got him chuckling deeply.

“I will in a bit.” Curling your cascading hair through his fingertips, he caressed your pretty head, allowing the tranquil silence to linger.

“I love you, Y/n. So damn much. Thank you for being in my life, in this moment, and for the rest of our reign to come.” His whole being enveloped you in his bear hug of an embrace, drawing in your shared taste through an endearing kiss.

“I love you too, Jin. So damn much.” Your voice fluttered from the swelling of emotion taking hold on your heart, as you couldn't help but fall into the routine of peppering smooches all over that beautifully precious face of his.

“I'll love you. In this life and the next. Until the end of it all.” He vowed to you as you succumbed to sleep once again, smiling softly at your face, kissing your sweet lips once more before reaching out behind him for his phone, sending a quick text to Yoo Jinho about his impromptu work absence. His brother in arms was A-okay about, already suspecting fooling around with you being the reason why.

Jinwoo's next text was him dubbing Jinho as his best man at your upcoming wedding, already looking forward to seeing you on that sacred day, followed up by quite the steamy honeymoon.

He was already anticipating your future together, basking in the early morning, setting his phone aside as it filled with the following texts of congrats and excitement from his little bro, before joining you in the confines of dreams, cocooned in your shared comfy warmth, watched on by his shadow army in the corner, silently cheering for their master’s engagement with their future Queen Regnant.

[lovelyyys]

the reader is a mutant like logan but more cat like which everyone thinks that they would hate each other which is proven wrong by the marks logan leaves on her neck after a wild night

ok i went a little wild with this so uh, enjoy!

(female reader, enemies to lovers? 18+!!!)

For the most part you two were alike. Well. For the most part. You were like him, although your claws didn’t retract from your knuckles. Instead they came from your nails. Just like a cat: People had expected the two of you to get along well knowing the fact that you were similar. When you two first met he simply introduced himself as, “Hi I’m Logan.” As if that would suffice. You didn’t know why he was so lukewarm towards you, almost as if he felt threatened by you. Ego problem maybe?

The team along with you were in the lounge area, everybody talking and drinking after a mission. You stood off to the side minding your own business. Drinking a beer, you didn’t know why. You couldn’t even get drunk since your body filtered alcohol out as poison so maybe you could get tipsy for a millisecond but that was it. You had been looking at a painting in the room, not before feeling the presence of somebody behind you. “How come you don’t drink hard? Like whiskey.” A gruff voice said from behind you that you had immediately recognized as that egotistical jerk. “I don’t like the taste.” You had answered, turning to face him. You looked up at him, staring into his eyes. “That’s a shame.” You didn’t answer, looking at his facial features and such. He took his own cup pressing it to his lips. Downing his drink, before slamming it on the table next to you.

“You know I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong hand. It was just a little weird meeting somebody like me.” Ah. So it was because he has an ego problem. “Yeah I thought so.” You said, not before finishing off your beer and putting it next to his empty glass. “You can’t get drunk right?” He asked you suddenly. You shook your head, “No my healing factor doesn’t allow it.”

“So we’re more alike than I thought.” He laughed, you smiled. Maybe you two were more alike than you two thought. “Uh, you know we’re on the same mission tomorrow.” Why was he even talking to you? “Yeah I saw on the board earlier.” That was the whole conversation.

After the mission you got a nasty cut on your thigh, your suit being cut open. Your leg bleeding. You had gotten back to the mansion. Logan offering to help clean you up. Why not? What could be the worse that could happen? He was just trying to break the ice after all…

He brought you to the medbay, grabbing a bit of gauze and rubbing alcohol. You sat down on the bed, watching him prep the materials. You took off the pants of your suit so he could clean it better. “Come closer.” He said, curling his finger towards you. You shuffled over to him. His breath warm against your body. “This is going to hurt.” He warned, pressing the cold cotton pad onto your skin. The alcohol stinging. His jaw was locked, eyes hardening as he watched your expression as you hissed at the pain. He held his hand on your shoulder to reassure you — not before you muffled your cry’s of pain into his neck. Holding onto his back. Your nails digging in.

The pain was a 10. Possibly an 11. You started panting a bit, whimpering into his neck. In an instant he moved his hand down from your shoulder to your hip in order to steady you. He cleared his throat, his voice a bit hesitant. “Stop moving like that.”

“It hurts.” You cried out. “Just stop.” He whispered in your ear. How were you supposed to? Oh. Oh…

You looked up at him, his eyes meeting yours as he bit his cheek. As if he was trying to hold back from saying more. “Fuck it.” He growled. Tossing the cotton pad in the trash. Moving your legs up onto the table. Getting right in between your thighs, his hands snaking down towards your panties. Tugging them right off as he gripped your legs once more. Putting them to rest on his muscular shoulders. He pushed you down onto the table, going into kiss you roughly. His hands holding your face. “You know I always liked you in a way.” You smirked.

“Well now you know in what way.” He laughed, panting a bit before kissing you again. His tounge exploring your mouth. His hands went to his pants pulling them along with his boxers down. His hard dick jumping out, ready to be inside of you. Ready to fill you up with his cum. Over and over again. So much for introductions.

He grabbed his thick member, pushing it up against your dripping wet pussy. You looked up at him, his face had a smirk on it. You nodded, letting him push up into you, he didn’t take it slow. Wasting no time, rolling his hips before pulling out and thrusting into you as he held your jaw. Forcing you to look at him. You let out a moan. Staring into his eyes. “You like this?”

“Harder. Harder!” You moaned suddenly, his eyes darkening as he fucked up into your sopping wet cunt at a brutal pace. Groaning with every single fucking thrust. He pulled the zipper down from your suit. Your breasts there on display for him to see. He hummed in approval, squeezing on one of your breasts as he continued ramming into you. His cock kissing your cervix, the pleasure overwhelming. The familiar tightening in your stomach building up. “You close?” He asked you. You simply nodded, your breasts jiggling up and down with every thrust. “Me too. Want me to cum inside this pussy?” “Mhm.” He grinned. His pace somehow getting faster as if the pace before wasn’t enough for him. “Cum with me.” He whined. Kissing you once more.

You quickly clenched around him, milking him for all his worth. His hot cum filling inside you quickly. He continued fucking you, the cum leaking out. The overstimulation quickly spreading. “Logan!”

“Be good for me you can take it.” He moaned, sucking on your neck his hips never slowing as he drew out another orgasm from you. Again and again.

His hairy base tickled against your clit, stimulating it. He reached his thumb down rubbing on the bud. “Logan please.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

“It’s too much-.” You whined grabbing onto his dog tags with all the strength you had left. You read it. “Wolverine eh?” You laughed a bit. Moaning. “Shut up. You’re a fucking kitty cat.” He snarled. His thrusts never faltering.

It’s safe to say you didn’t sleep at all that night.

In the morning you were in the kitchen making yourself a coffee to wake up from the nights events. The team there as well making themselves breakfast. You hadn’t noticed the hickey Logan left on your neck until somebody had pointed it out. “Hey what’s that on your neck?” Scott peeped up. You raised your brows a bit looking in the reflection of the coffee machine. “Uh.”

“Something I left for her to remember me by.” A gruff voice said.

That egotistical jerk.

hope you enjoyed !! more to come, xoxo!

[whore4wroetoshaw]

pillowtalk (w2s x reader)

warnings: smut smut smut

the video.

you loved your boyfriend. he was it for you. and not in the fleeting, butterfly way. not a crush that faded when things got difficult. no—he was the one you could scream at and argue with and then fall asleep tangled in the same sheet an hour later. the one who knew exactly how you liked your tea, exactly how to get under your skin, and exactly how to worship every inch of your body like it was the only language he spoke.

and oh, my god. he was the best sex you'd ever had. hands down. absolutely zero contest. you’d look at him and think he was very vanilla, but the way he fucked you? slow, deep, possesive—like he was trying to carve his name into your bones and remind you exactly who you belonged to. it made you feral. 

so when he asked you—on camera, during a truth or drink sidemen video, the prick—“have you ever faked an orgasm with me?” and you didn’t say no like he expected you to… you picked up your shot of tequila, knocked it back, and put the glass down like you were putting a final nail in a coffin.

trust, he was good at pleasing you. the things he could do with his tongue... jesus. the man was skilled. it was just that one time. to be honest, it wasn't even his fault. you were just tired, your head wasn't in it, and you just didn't want him to feel bad. so, you faked a few shaky breaths, moaned out his name, and smiled through the guilt. and that was it. one time. forgotten.

"it was just that one time—i wasn't in the mood, y'know? stop laughing, jj." you tried to surpress your giggles because of the look on harry's face.

you thought that was the end of it. one shot. one simple, honest answer. the boys were already laughing and moving on—ethan reading the next question with a shit-eating grin, jj still laughing like he usually did.

but harry?

harry was staring. he didn't laugh. didn't even crack a smile. he sat back, eyebrows slightly raised, lips twitching like he was trying to solve a maths problem. his whole expression unreadable. way too quiet for harry.

the rest of the video felt long. every time he laughed, every time he smiled or chimed in, you could feel the weight of his attention still hanging off you. he didn’t say much after that, just finished the game with a casual shrug, fingers drumming on the table.

the car ride.

it was so fucking quiet. not in an awkward way. no tension between you as people—you were fine. it was fine.

but it was so quiet.

harry's eyes were on the road, hand steady on the wheel. the only sounds were the low hum of the engine, and the occasional turn signal.

but you could feel him.

feel his gaze flicker over to you at red lights. feel the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel. feel the heat simmering between you, hotter by the second.

so, you broke the silence. "what's going on in that pretty head of yours, hm? you're awfully quiet."

his knuckles tightened on the wheel. "hm? nothing. just... thinking."

"about what?" you turned your knees slightly towards him, now looking at his absolutely flawless side profile.

"you know what." his jaw clenched, a small smirk on his face.

you rolled your eyes. "haz, you're still on that? it was just a game. i don't even remember when it happ—"

he didn't look at you. "i'm just trying to figure out how i missed it."

"babe, come on. it was years ago, harry. you didn't do anything wrong. it wasn't about you. i swear." you laughed, reaching over to rub his knee as reassurement.

he looked down, and then up again. after a few moments of silence, he spoke, his voice lower. "i don't want you to feel like you have to perform with me."

"baby. it was one time. it's so insignificant that i don't even remember when it happened." you leaned over and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek.

after you reached home.

the front door clicked shut behind you with a soft thud, and that was it. the match dropped.

he didn’t speak. just watched as you kicked off your shoes and turned toward him, still trying to act normal—casual—like your heart wasn’t hammering in your chest.

you opened your mouth to say something—

but he was on you.

mouth crashing to yours, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. you stumbled back into the wall with a thud, gasping against his lips, his body crowding yours, warm and solid and desperate.

"fuckin' hell, y/n," he muttered against your mouth, kissing you like he was trying to devour your soul. "i'm losing my fucking mind."

“didn’t think you’d spiral this hard,” you breathed.

his hand curled around your jaw, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "i’ve been replaying every sound you’ve made with me in my head. every fucking moan. every breath. trying to figure out which one was a lie.” his voice dropped. “you realise how mental that is?”

you swallowed, chest rising and falling fast.

he tilted your chin up. “so now i’m gonna make sure there’s no confusion.”

before you could even react, his hands reached the back of your thighs, and he picked you up in a go. a gasp slipped from your lips as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the pressure of his hard-on pressing firmly against your core through the thin barrier of your clothes. the contact drew a soft whimper from your throat—needy and unfiltered.

harry smirked against your skin. "that all for me, love?" he murmured, his voice rough as his mouth found your neck for the millionth time.

you just whined in response and grabbed his hair, latching your lips onto his again. he chuckled lowly, and carried you to the bedroom door, throwing it open.

he kicked the door shut behind him with a thud that echoed, not that either of you noticed—too lost in the haze of each other, barely making it two steps before tossing you onto the mattress like you weighed nothing. you bounced once, breath catching as you pushed yourself up on your elbows.

he climbed on top of you, hovering for a moment as he tried to take in your presence, his fingers trailing under the hem of your top.

that's it. you couldn't take it anymore.

"goddamn it, harry." you surged up and yanked his shirt over his head in one go, fingers fumbling in your haste, lips catching his halfway through. it was teeth and tongue and heat, and all of it tinged with frustration.

"a little bit impatient there, huh?" he laughed as he tugged your top over your head and tossed it somewhere behind him, already reaching for your jeans.

“can you blame me?” you huffed, breath shaky as you wriggled out of them, your hands everywhere—his neck, his shoulders, everywhere. "you've been staring at me with bedroom eyes all day long, bruv."

harry laughed under his breath—low and rough—as he popped the button of your jeans and slid them down—along with your underwear— in one swift movement, eyes trailing down the length of you like he hadn’t seen you naked a thousand times before.

you bit your lip, cheeks flushed, eyes flickering down for a moment before dragging back up to meet his. your hands moved slowly to his belt, fingers slipping beneath the leather and tugging with careful urgency—like you couldn’t bear another second but also wanted to savour it.

you pulled it free in one smooth motion, letting it drop off the side of the bed with a soft thud. your fingers didn’t falter—next came the button of his jeans, the slow drag of the zip. you felt him twitch beneath your touch, felt the tension ripple through his abdomen.

“you’re killing me, babe,” he muttered, voice low, reverent, as he watched your hands work.

“good,” you whispered, slipping your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and sliding everything down in one go. he kicked them off without looking, never taking his eyes off you.

there he was: all of him, exposed to you, his cock thick and flushed, already dripping with need. your breath hitched in your throat, eyes tracing over every inch of him. the way his muscles tightened under his skin, the deep v of his hips leading to his hard length. It was almost too much.

you reached out, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling the heat of him in your hand. you could feel the veins throbbing beneath your touch, his length heavy and solid in your palm. "please fuck me," you whimpered.

he let out a ragged breath, his hands immediately grabbing at your legs, pulling you to him as he knelt between your thighs. and just like that, he leaned forward, pushing your legs apart as he aligned himself with your entrance. his eyes flickered to yours, a silent question. you nodded, breathless, barely able to form a sentence.

harry didn’t need another word. he sank into you in one deliberate thrust, his cock filling you, stretching you in the best possible way. you gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed, and he groaned in response, his hand sliding to your hip to hold you in place.

jesus, even after years of being together, you were still caught off guard by his size every single time. “god,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, as he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to him. “you feel fucking perfect.”

harry didn’t waste another moment. he withdrew slightly, then slammed back into you with force, making you gasp as your body jolted from the impact. his pace was immediate, fast, relentless—he wasn’t holding back. every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

you moaned out his name as your hands scrambled for purchase on his back, digging your nails into his skin. you gasped as you tried to meet each of his thrusts, your body working in perfect sync with his. there was no gentleness in this; there didn’t need to be. after all these years, neither of you held back anymore.

he gripped your legs tighter, pushing them up and apart to get even deeper, his hips snapping against yours with brutal force. every thrust hit you at the perfect angle, his cock filling you so completely that you could barely breathe. "oh my god, harry!"

you gasped, hips bucking as the familiar pressure started to build again in your core. the pace didn’t slow—if anything, harry pushed harder, faster, making sure you didn’t have time to catch your breath. his hands were everywhere—on your hips, your chest, your throat—as he fucked you like he owned you.

you felt your orgasm rise up, sudden and overwhelming. the sensation spread through every inch of you, every nerve firing at once as you came hard around him, screaming his name as you tightened around his cock. your whole body trembled, the force of it making your vision blur for a moment.

but harry didn’t stop. he was relentless, chasing his own high now, his pace never wavering as he fucked you through your orgasm. the tension was unbearable, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he thrust into you with a final, deep stroke, groaning your name as he came hard inside you, his release spilling deep, filling you completely.

you both collapsed in the aftershocks of your highs, your body limp and trembling beneath him, as he kissed your neck, his breath ragged.

"oh my god," you heaved, recovering from your orgasm. "oh love, we're not done."

[traffys-heart]

hii!!! i’m literally obsessed w how u write so if it’s ok can u write smth abt op men and fingering?

one piece men + fingering | nsfw

i will probably start a masterlist soon, considering how many works i have cluttered my blog w. please bare w me until then, thank u (っ- ‸ - ς)

characters: monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinesmoke sanji, portgas d. ace, sabo, eustass kid, killer, trafalgar d. law

cw: lowercase, afab! reader, fingering, female receiving oral, public sex, virign! loser! law

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ୨♡୧ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ୨♡୧ ┈ ┈ ┈ ⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

–

monkey d. luffy

luffy considers fingering and eating ur pussy as a package deal. as far as he's concerned, hes only curling his knuckles and pressing up into that soft gooey spot inside of u so he can stuff his face in ur cunt right after and enjoy the meal u've left him. ever since he found out he just needs to fuck ur little slit w his digits to speed up ur orgasms he's been using the 'trick' thereafter. oh and of course like the glutton he is, he always makes sure to lick up ur webs that coat his hand after.

roronoa zoro

zoro needs to calm down and recollect himself before he gets his hands on ur tight ass cause he'll probably end up making a mess. this guy wants u bent over his weights bench and spreading ur pretty lips for him. he can't wait to stretch u and feel how u squeeze him as his fingers scissor ur walls, trying to expand ur cunt for his cock. zoro tries to go as slow as possible, but ends up loosing control and rapidly fucking u on his hand.

vinesmoke sanji

idk why but i'm plagued w the vision of sanji's face slowly rising from the side of bed w his signature perverted blown out expression ready to get down and dirty. imagine ur on ur bed, legs spred, panties discarded, and ur trying so hard to get off, but u just need sanji to finger u to completion. ur rubbing ur clit so fast, but it's his long and slender fingers that tickle ur insides so perfectly that make u cum. ugh he kisses ur stomach through it too.

portgas d. ace

ace would take u in the middle of a bar if he could. unfortunately u would never let that happen, so he has to settle for walking his heated fingertips up and under the hem of ur skirt, kissing promises of reassurance into ur ear while u make eye contact w whoever new just entered. his sneaky fingers slip past ur undergarments and rub ur wet slit that's been begging for attention ever since u left the ship. slow and deep thrusts cause u to almost loose balance while u cling to ur sly boyfriend and his sticky hands.

sabo

the high of completing a mission or liberating another island has always filled u w a sense of pride, on the other hand its always made sabo needy to fill u. the foreign texture of leather massaging the inside of ur pussy makes u want to crawl away and beg for more simultaneously. the gloved fingers fucking ur mouth keep u from escaping him tho. with a soft smack to ur wet cunt, sabo loosens his cravat and thinks abt how much better u would feel stuffed w his cock.

eustass kid

kid is so mean, sometimes he makes u ride his own fingers. so u could be there, bouncing away to ur hearts content, but he won't do a thing cause he likes seeing u get off on him. he especially likes seeing u get off on his metal arm. there is nothing more erotic than watching u stretch urself down on one of the the fat metal fingers of his hand. the dichotomy of skin and chrome molding into one almost makes him want to start doing work himself smh.

killer

my beloved beefy boy. if he could he would strip off his mask and have u sit on his face so he can get to know ur pussy up close and personal. yknow ask her questions abt her interests and hobbies. but until that milestone, he opts for fingering u until the point of over stimulation. whereas ur captain sat back and made u do all the work, killer will rub and pinch ur clit as well as thrust his fingers in and out of ur cunt. he wants u cumming all over him until his jeans have a new kind of acid wash.

trafalgar d. law

law has never been this close to pussy before so when u strip off panties for him and open ur legs, inviting the nerd in, his first instinct is to grab his glasses. (yes they fog up) he could spend eternity watching u touch urself, but when u spread ur slit and guide his fingers into ur welcoming hole he doubts he'll ever last long enough to make u cum during actual sex. in the end u never acc orgasm but law adds this to his top 5 memories ever.

–

[little-jana]

- 5 times you ask Hotch to touch you and the 1 time he asks to be held -

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: fluff, some angst (not between them)

Warnings: case talk, injuries during a case, blood mentioned, insecurities, crying, needing comfort, kissing, happy ending

1. "Can you hold my hand?"

The first time you asked him to touch you, it felt like a lifeline — a fragile tether keeping you from falling into the darkness that had begun to creep in. You were both walking out of the interrogation room, the air still charged with the tension left behind. The unsub had been particularly vile, his words slicing through your defenses like a blade. You had held your composure in the room — you always did — but now, with the door closed and the weight of the case pressing on your chest, the cracks were starting to show.

You could still hear the unsub’s voice in your head, the way he had spoken about his victims as though they were nothing more than objects. Your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists, trying to push away the nausea rising in your throat.

Aaron walked beside you in silence, his presence calm and steady, as it always was. You envied his ability to compartmentalize, to walk away from horrors like this without letting them leave a mark. But as you glanced up at him, you caught the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders seemed just a little more rigid than usual. He felt it too — he just hid it better.

“Are you okay?” His voice broke through your thoughts, low and grounding.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, though your voice wavered.

He didn’t respond right away, his sharp eyes flicking down to your hands, which you had unconsciously begun rubbing together in a futile attempt to steady them.

“No,” he said quietly but firmly. “You’re not.”

Your instinct was to deny it again, to brush off his concern and pretend you had everything under control. But the words died in your throat as the tremors in your hands grew worse. Without thinking, you reached out toward him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can you hold my hand? Just… just for a second.”

He didn’t hesitate. His hand slid into yours, warm and solid, his fingers wrapping around yours with a strength that was both gentle and grounding. The world seemed to tilt back into place as his thumb brushed over your knuckles in a slow, reassuring motion.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his deep voice steady and unwavering. “I’ve got you.”

You stared at where your hands were joined, the contrast between your smaller, trembling fingers and his strong, steady grip. A lump formed in your throat, and you took a shaky breath, the trembling beginning to subside as the warmth of his hand anchored you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t let go right away. His thumb continued its gentle path along your skin, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t rushing you, that he was there for as long as you needed.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice soft but firm, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket.

For the first time in a long time, you felt the truth of those words sink in. And for the first time, you let yourself believe him.

2. "Will you help me up?"

The chase had been brutal. It was the kind of pursuit that left no room for hesitation, no time to think beyond the thundering of your heart and the pounding of your boots against the forest floor. The unsub was fast, darting between the trees with the desperation of a cornered animal. You were faster, but the uneven terrain was unforgiving, and your focus was split between keeping your eyes on him and avoiding the roots and rocks scattered across the ground.

You didn’t see the root until it was too late. Your foot caught on it, and you went down hard, the impact jolting through your body as your ankle twisted beneath you.

“Damn it,” you hissed, trying to push yourself up. But when you shifted your weight onto your injured ankle, a sharp, searing pain shot through you, forcing you back onto the ground.

The sound of footsteps brought you back to the present, and you looked up to see Aaron sprinting toward you. His gun was drawn, his eyes scanning the trees even as he made a beeline for you.

“Are you hurt?” he asked as he dropped to his knees beside you, his voice calm but edged with urgency.

“It’s nothing,” you said through gritted teeth, waving him off. “I just need to get up—”

“Stop,” he said sharply, his tone brooking no argument.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced you. He was already reaching for your ankle, his hands sure and gentle as he assessed the injury.

“It’s sprained,” he said after a moment, his brow furrowed. “You’re not walking on this.”

“I can manage,” you insisted, even as the pain made your vision blur. “Just help me up—”

“No,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.

Before you could protest further, he moved with a decisiveness that left you momentarily stunned. Sliding one arm under your knees and the other around your back, he lifted you off the ground as though you weighed nothing.

“Hotch—”

“Don’t argue,” he said, his tone softening just enough to take the sting out of his words. “You’re hurt, and I’m not letting you make it worse.”

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you realized how close you were to him, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance. His chest was solid beneath you, his heartbeat steady and strong, a grounding rhythm against the chaos of your own.

“I can walk,” you mumbled, though your voice lacked conviction.

“You don’t have to,” he said simply, his gaze fixed ahead as he carried you back toward the team.

The words hung between you, their weight sinking into your chest. For once, you didn’t argue. Instead, you allowed yourself to lean into him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder as his arms held you secure.

And for the first time, you felt what it meant to truly let someone else carry the weight for you.

3. "Can you hug me?"

The case had been devastating. Cases involving children were always the hardest, but this one had left a particularly deep scar. The unsub, a man who had systematically targeted families, had shown no remorse — if anything, he seemed to revel in the pain he caused. Even though the team had caught him, the damage was done. A family was gone, ripped apart, and no amount of justice would bring them back.

The jet ride back was suffocating. Everyone was quiet, the weight of the case pressing down on the cabin like a physical presence. You sat by the window, staring out at the night sky as the clouds blurred past. Your stomach churned, and your throat felt tight, but you held it together. You always did.

When the jet landed, you lingered behind as the others disembarked. The thought of going home to an empty apartment, sitting alone in the silence, was unbearable. You told yourself you just needed a moment to collect yourself, but the truth was you felt stuck, unable to move or breathe properly.

“Are you alright?” Aaron’s voice cut through the quiet, startling you.

You turned to see him standing near the doorway, his expression calm but his dark eyes watching you closely. You hadn’t realized he’d stayed behind too.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, the lie slipping out without hesitation.

He didn’t move, didn’t look away. His silence stretched, unspoken but understanding, and suddenly you felt exposed. The walls you’d so carefully built over the years began to crack under the weight of his steady gaze.

“I’m just… tired,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brows drew together, concern flickering across his face. “Do you want me to stay?”

You shook your head quickly, embarrassed by the question and the vulnerability it implied. “No, I’m fine. I just need to—”

You stopped, the words catching in your throat as the ache in your chest grew unbearable. You looked down at your hands, clenching and unclenching them in your lap as you tried to find something to hold onto.

Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “Can you hug me?”

The question hung in the air, fragile and raw. You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid of what you might see.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, you heard the soft rustle of his jacket as he crossed the space between you.

“Come here,” he said gently, his voice low and steady.

You looked up, and before you could second-guess yourself, he was pulling you into his arms. His embrace was warm and firm, his hands resting on your back as he held you close. You buried your face in his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

His hand moved in slow, soothing circles on your back, and the knot in your chest began to loosen. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt the wetness on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he held you tighter, as though he could physically hold you together while you fell apart.

For what felt like the first time in forever, you let yourself lean on someone else. And in his arms, the weight of the case, of everything, didn’t feel quite so crushing.

4. "Can you just stay with me?"

The motel room was small and unremarkable, its beige walls and faded floral bedspread screaming mediocrity. The case had taken its toll on everyone, and you could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your chest as you stepped out of the shower, toweling your hair dry. Your limbs were heavy, your mind foggy, but you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest — the remnants of a particularly brutal day on the job.

You’d seen it before: the aftermath of people’s worst moments. But this case was different. It had crept under your skin, latched onto your soul, and refused to let go. The faces of the victims lingered behind your closed eyes, and no matter how many deep breaths you took, you couldn’t shake the suffocating weight.

When a soft knock came at your door, you startled slightly, pulling the towel tighter around you before calling out, “One second!” You scrambled to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, padding barefoot across the cheap carpet to open the door.

Aaron stood on the other side, his presence grounding and commanding even in the dim light of the hallway. He looked as tired as you felt, his tie gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his sleeves rolled up. There was a faint crease between his brows, one you recognized as his default expression when something was troubling him.

“Hotch,” you said, surprised. “Is everything okay?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, his dark eyes scanning your face as though searching for something. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and careful.

“I saw your light was still on,” he said. “I just wanted to check on you.”

The words were simple, but the weight behind them wasn’t lost on you. He wasn’t just checking in as your boss or your team leader. This was personal — a quiet, unspoken acknowledgment of the fact that he could see the same weariness in you that he felt in himself.

You stepped aside, holding the door open. “Come in.”

He hesitated for only a second before stepping into the room, his presence filling the small space. He moved toward the lone chair by the window, sitting down with a quiet sigh as he leaned back, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t have to check on me, you know,” you said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m okay.”

He gave you a pointed look, one that said he didn’t believe you for a second. “You’re not okay,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Guess I’m not hiding it very well.”

“You’ve had a hard day,” he said. “We all have. It’s okay to not be okay.”

Something about the way he said it — so calm, so matter-of-fact — caused the knot in your chest to loosen ever so slightly. You looked down at your hands, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“I can’t stop seeing their faces,” you admitted quietly. “Every time I close my eyes… it’s just there. And it feels like no matter what we do, it’s never enough. We can’t save everyone.”

There was a long pause, and when you looked up, Aaron was watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“No,” he said softly. “We can’t save everyone. But we saved someone today. And that matters.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they only brought the sting of tears closer to the surface. You swallowed hard, blinking quickly to keep them at bay.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “How you keep going, case after case, loss after loss.”

He leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. “Because I have to,” he said simply. “Because if I stop, if I let it get to me… then it wins. And I can’t let that happen.”

There was a rawness to his voice that you rarely heard, a vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show. It was a side of him that reminded you he wasn’t just your leader — he was human, just like the rest of you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence in the room was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a shared understanding, a quiet acknowledgment of the weight you both carried.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can you just stay with me?”

The question hung in the air, fragile and tentative. For a heartbeat, you thought he might say no, that he might retreat behind his walls and insist on maintaining the professional distance he was so careful to preserve.

But then he nodded, his eyes softening as he stood from the chair. “Of course,” he said quietly.

He crossed the room and sat down beside you on the bed, his presence warm and solid beside you. For a moment, you didn’t move, unsure of how to close the distance between you. But then his hand came to rest on your back, his touch gentle and reassuring, and the tension in your shoulders melted away.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer. His hand moved in slow, soothing circles against your back, and you felt yourself relax for the first time all day.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I’m here. Always.”

The quiet conviction in his voice sent a warmth spreading through your chest, and for the first time that day, the suffocating weight began to lift.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, wrapped in his embrace. The minutes blurred together, the world outside fading into insignificance as you let yourself lean on him, let yourself draw strength from his presence.

And when you finally closed your eyes, the faces of the victims were no longer the first thing you saw. Instead, it was Aaron’s face, his quiet strength and unwavering support a balm to your weary soul.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but in that moment, you knew you weren’t alone. And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.

5. "Can you hold me?"

The house was silent now, eerily still in the aftermath of chaos. The team had already left, but you and Aaron remained behind to tie up loose ends — packing evidence, reviewing case notes, and ensuring the crime scene was left intact for the local authorities. The work was necessary, methodical, but it felt like moving through molasses. The weight of the case clung to you, thick and suffocating.

You stood in the unsub's living room, staring at the remnants of his twisted life. The photos on the walls, the personal items strewn across the floor, all told a story of pain and control. You’d seen scenes like this before, but tonight, it felt like too much. The air felt heavy, as though the walls themselves were pressing down on you.

Behind you, Aaron’s steady presence filled the room. You could hear the soft rustle of his coat as he moved closer, the faint creak of the floorboards under his weight. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his gaze on you, warm and steady like the sun breaking through clouds.

“You should sit down,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though the tightness in your voice betrayed the lie.

Aaron stepped closer, his footsteps deliberate. “You’ve been standing there for ten minutes,” he pointed out, his tone carrying a gentle note of concern. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and your throat tightened. You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but the weight of everything — the victims, their families, the endless parade of darkness — pressed down on you like a tidal wave.

“I’m just tired,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Tired of seeing all this pain, all this... evil. Sometimes it feels like no matter what we do, it’s never enough.”

Aaron didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stepped closer until he was standing right beside you. The warmth of his presence was grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“It’s not easy,” he said finally, his voice soft but steady. “But you’re stronger than you think. And you’re not alone in this.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you. You turned to face him, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t feel strong right now,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I feel... lost.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours as though trying to find the right words. Finally, he reached out, his hand brushing your arm in a gesture so gentle it made your chest ache.

“You’re not lost,” he said quietly. “You’re here. You’re standing. And that’s enough.”

The tears you’d been holding back slipped free, and you quickly swiped at them, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop,” he interrupted gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me.”

His words were a balm to your frayed nerves, and before you could second-guess yourself, you asked, “Can you hold me?” The words came out soft, almost hesitant, but they hung in the air between you like a plea.

For a moment, Aaron hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was Aaron Hotchner — measured, thoughtful, always careful with the boundaries he set. But then his expression shifted, and without a word, he stepped closer and opened his arms.

You didn’t hesitate. You stepped into his embrace, your hands clutching the fabric of his jacket as his arms wrapped around you. The world seemed to fall away as he held you, his touch firm and steady, as though he was anchoring you to the earth.

His chin rested lightly on the top of your head, and his hand moved in slow, soothing circles against your back. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble.

The floodgates opened then, and you let yourself cry. Not the quiet, restrained tears you’d been holding back, but the deep, gut-wrenching sobs that came from the core of your being. And through it all, Aaron didn’t let go. He held you as though his only purpose in that moment was to keep you from falling apart.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his breath warm against your hair. “Let it out. I’m here.”

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, wrapped in his arms, but time seemed to lose all meaning. Slowly, the sobs began to subside, and your breathing evened out. You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, but his hands remained on your arms, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, though this time your voice was steadier. “I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”

Aaron shook his head, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to apologize for being human,” he said firmly. “You carry so much, and sometimes it’s too much. That’s why we’re a team. You don’t have to do this alone.”

The warmth in his voice, the unshakable conviction in his words, made your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with sadness. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave you a small nod, his hands still resting on your arms. “Anytime.”

The moment stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You wanted to tell him how much his support meant to you, how much he meant to you, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you leaned into his embrace once more, resting your head against his chest. He didn’t hesitate to hold you again, his arms wrapping around you like a shield against the darkness.

And in that moment, you felt lighter. Not because the weight of the world had disappeared, but because you weren’t carrying it alone anymore. Aaron was there, solid and steady, and as his heartbeat thrummed beneath your ear, you realized something important: with him by your side, you could face anything.

+1. "Can you hold me?"

It was late. The office was shrouded in shadows, the hum of the building’s air conditioning the only sound cutting through the silence. You’d expected the bullpen to be empty when you arrived, yet the faint glow spilling from Aaron’s office told you otherwise. You weren’t surprised — late nights like this had become the norm for him, his relentless dedication often bordering on self-punishment.

You pushed the door open softly, peeking inside to find him sitting at his desk. His jacket was slung over the back of his chair, his tie loosened, and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. Papers were scattered across his desk, though it was clear from the distant look in his eyes that he hadn’t been reading them. He was staring blankly at his hands, his brow furrowed, the weight of something heavy pressing down on him.

“Hotch,” you said gently, stepping inside.

His head snapped up, his dark eyes meeting yours. He looked exhausted — not just physically, but emotionally, the kind of weariness that ran bone-deep.

“You should go home,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, though it lacked the sharpness you were used to hearing from him.

“So should you,” you replied, stepping closer to his desk.

He didn’t respond, his gaze dropping back to the desk as his fingers traced aimless patterns on the surface. There was a vulnerability about him that you rarely saw, a crack in the unshakable armor he always wore.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, concern threading through your voice.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He seemed to wrestle with himself, his jaw tightening as though he were trying to force the words down. But then he looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Can you hold me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The vulnerability in his words hit you like a punch to the chest. Aaron Hotchner, the stoic, unshakable leader who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, was asking you for something so raw, so human.

You didn’t hesitate. Closing the distance between you, you reached out and pulled him into your arms. He came willingly, almost collapsing into you as his head dipped to rest against your shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his grip desperate, as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

For a long moment, neither of you said a word. You simply held him, your fingers threading gently through his hair as he buried his face against your neck. His breathing was uneven, the tension in his body radiating off him in waves.

“It’s okay,” you murmured softly, your lips brushing against his temple. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

His hands tightened on your back, and you felt him exhale, a shuddering breath that seemed to carry with it the weight of everything he’d been holding in. You had always known Aaron carried more than he let on — the responsibility of the team, the guilt of the lives he couldn’t save, the endless burden of being the one everyone else relied on. But in this moment, he let himself lean on you, his walls crumbling in your arms.

“I don’t…” he began, his voice muffled against your shoulder. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his brow furrowed, his expression pained. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let someone else—”

“You don’t have to do it all alone,” you said, cutting him off gently. You brought a hand to his face, your fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw. “You don’t have to carry everything by yourself, Aaron. Let me help you. Let me be there for you.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into the safety of his walls. But then something shifted in his expression, the tension in his shoulders easing as he leaned into your touch.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his hand came up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. The intimacy of the gesture sent a warmth spreading through your chest, and you felt yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

When you opened them, he was watching you with an intensity that stole your breath. His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to still.

“Aaron,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

He closed the distance between you in an instant, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as desperate as it was tender. His hands framed your face, his touch reverent as though he were afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that left you dizzy. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as your heart pounded in your chest. There was no hesitation, no holding back — just the raw, unspoken emotion that had been building between you for so long finally spilling over.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting together as the world slowly came back into focus. His hands remained on your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your skin as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said again, your voice soft but firm.

For the first time, you saw the tension in his face ease, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I know,” he said quietly.

And as he pulled you back into his arms, holding you tightly against him, you knew he meant it. For the first time, he was letting himself believe it too.

[verstappenverse]

Crash Into Me

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After a crash lands you in the hospital, Max finally says those three words he's been holding in far too long.

2.1k words / Masterlist

You never thought the sound of your own heartbeat could be this loud. It’s almost deafening, especially when it’s paired with the sterile beeping of the hospital machines. White walls and the lingering smell of disinfectant aren’t exactly comforting, but what else could you expect from an emergency room?

Your leg throbs under the thick layers of bandages and painkillers, the medication takes the edge off, but not enough to make you forget what happened. You cringe at the memory, the screeching tires, the jarring impact. The instant panic that followed, Max shouting your name, the rush of people around you, hands on your arms, your back, trying to get you out of the twisted mess of metal and plastic.

It was supposed to be a fun day, just you and Max at the karting track, racing for the fun of it. He'd grinned at you before the start, all cocky confidence and teasing remarks, swearing he’d go easy on you. And you, always stubborn and competitive, told him not to dare.

Now here you are stuck in this hospital bed with a broken leg, a bruised shoulder, and an ego that’s just as bruised. You feel stupid, and the worst part is the guilt, because the look on Max’s face when he reached you, when he saw you lying there in pain and bleeding, that look might haunt you longer than the pain ever will.

As if on cue, the door swings open and Max walks in. His tousled hair is a mess, and his blue eyes are shadowed with worry. He’s still wearing his AlphaTauri hoodie, the navy fabric wrinkled and stretched at the cuffs like he’s been tugging on the sleeves.

“Hey how’s the patient?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light and teasing, but you can see the strain beneath it.

“Alive,” you mutter, forcing a half-smile. “Though I think my pride might be dead.”

Max chuckles under his breath, but it’s short, dry. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He walks over and sinks into the chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together so tightly his knuckles go pale. He leans in slightly, just close enough that you can see the tension in his jaw, the twitch of a muscle there, the way he won’t quite meet your eyes right away.

“You scared the hell out of me you know that?” he says, and this time his voice is quieter.

“Didn’t mean to,” you reply with a small wince as you shift your position.

Max flinches at the movement, his hand twitching towards you instinctively before he pulls it back, curling it into a fist on his knee. “Yeah, well next time try not to crash into the barrier at full speed,” he mutters, trying again for stern but missing by a mile and there’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Maybe don’t try to overtake me on a corner like that either.”

“You would’ve done the same,” you retort, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t pretend you’re so innocent Verstappen. I’ve seen you on the track. You’d overtake your own grandmother for the win.”

Max huffs, but a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “True,” he concedes. “But I’m not the one lying in a hospital bed am I?”

“Touché.”

A moment of silence falls between you, the kind that’s somehow both comfortable and unbearably heavy. Like you’re sharing something without actually speaking. The beeping of the machines fades into the background as Max leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, hands rubbing together restlessly. His eyes flicker to yours, then away just as quickly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to begin.

“Max,” you say softly, breaking the silence. “I’m okay. It’s not your fault.”

He lets out a humourless breath, almost a scoff, and shakes his head. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel that way.”

You open your mouth to reassure him again, but he keeps going.

“I should’ve told you to slow down. You were going way too fast and I saw you getting too close to the edge, hell, I knew it but I just…” His voice cracks slightly, and he clenches his jaw, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s punishing himself.

“But you what?” you ask gently.

Max meets your gaze, eyes glassy. “It’s so stupid, I just... I didn’t want to make you feel like I didn’t believe in you. You’re so damn good, and I didn’t want to be the guy who cuts in and tells you to ease up like I know better. I wanted to show I trust you to handle anything… and I hesitated.”

You manage a small, breathy laugh, though it stings a little with the effort. “Max let’s be real, you know I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.”

That earns a real reaction from Max, a soft, helpless huff of laughter, but there’s still a weight there.

“Yeah. I know.” he chuckles.

There’s another pause, and you can’t help but notice the way Max keeps fidgeting, his leg bouncing slightly, his hands restless. You’ve known him for long enough to recognise when something’s eating at him.

You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “Max, it was karting. It wasn’t life or death, I made the call and it was an accident please don’t let this weigh on you. I was being reckless.”

“Yeah but I let you,” Max says, and suddenly his voice is fierce with emotion. “I was right there. I could’ve done something, and now you’re in a hospital bed because I didn’t do anything, I didn’t protect you.”

You watch him for a moment, then reach out and touch his hand, fingertips brushing his knuckles lightly. “Max you’ve always pushed me to be better. That’s why I trust you so much."

His eyes fall to where your fingers graze his hand, and he flips his palm over, catching your hand in his like it’s instinct. Like he needs to feel your pulse, your warmth, your aliveness. He holds it tightly as if to remind himself you’re still here.

And for the first time since the accident, the silence feels just a little lighter.

“So…” you drag the word out, stretching it with as much faux drama as your bruised ribs will allow, “how long do I have to endure your babysitting services?”

Max’s eyes snap to yours, and he blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in conversation. “As long as you need me,” He leans back in the chair, a wry smile tugging at his lips, finally easing the tension in his face. “Not that I’m complaining… it’s kind of nice having you stuck in one place for once.”

“Oh yeah, because I’m so helpless,” you say with mock seriousness, gesturing to your bandaged leg. “Just a poor, broken soul. What would I do without you?”

Max snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too comfortable playing the victim. You’re still going to owe me for all this.”

“Owe you?” You raise an eyebrow. “For what, exactly?”

“For the emotional trauma,” he replies, trying for levity, but his voice wavers and suddenly you see his demeanour shift more serious again. “Watching you crash like that… hearing the medics… I don’t think I’ve ever felt that kind of fear before.”

He runs a hand through his hair again, fingers threading through the mess. “It sucked. I hated it. You didn’t move for a second, and I thought…” He stops himself, biting down on whatever awful thought had formed.

You look at him, really look at him, and realise how shaken he actually is. Max, the guy who’s fearless on the track, who takes risks for a living, who brushes off danger like it’s just part of the job, is truly shaken. And it’s because of you.

“Max,” you say softly, the word catching in your throat.

His eyes snap to yours immediately, like the sound of your voice pulled him back from wherever his thoughts had drifted, and for a moment something fragile and electric settles in the space between you. He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first just a shallow breath.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he says, and this time the words come fast, unfiltered. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been that scared before, it’s different when it’s you.”

The admission hits you like a punch to the chest. The hospital room feels smaller all of a sudden, like the walls are closing in. You don’t know how to respond, your throat tight as you try to process what he’s saying.

“Max…”

Max leans back in his chair, his expression clouded as he glances at the floor, his jaw clenching slightly. “I—” He pauses, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I’ve never been great with this kind of stuff, you know? The… feelings part.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” you tease lightly, hoping to ease the weight of the moment.

He lets out a soft, shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar nervous way. “I’m trying,” he admits. “But after today, seeing you like that... it’s been messing with my head.” He swallows, his throat bobbing. “You scare me… because you matter more than anything else.”

Your heart starts to beat faster, not because of pain or fear, but because of the way Max is looking at you, like he’s standing on the edge of something terrifying and wonderful all at once.

“What do you mean?” you ask, your voice soft, laced with anticipation and something else, hope, maybe. Or fear. It’s hard to tell the difference right now.

Max meets your gaze, and for a second, everything around you disappears. The hospital room, the pain in your leg, the beeping machines, it all fades into the background, as if the universe knows this moment is too important for distractions.

“I’m saying…” he starts, then falters, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. His fingers twitch slightly where they rest against yours, and he exhales.

“I love you,” he says, barely above a whisper, but the way he says it, it’s everything, a confession, a promise, and a plea all wrapped into one. “I know we haven’t been together that long, and maybe it’s too soon, or maybe I should’ve waited for a more romantic moment, but after today…” He trails off, eyes flicking down like he’s afraid of what he’ll see in yours. “God, I just—” He presses his fingers to his lips briefly, trying to keep his composure. “I couldn’t live with the thought that I might never get the chance to tell you. I love you. And I needed you to know.”

For a moment you forget how to breathe. Not because you don’t feel it too, you’ve known for a while that you love him, but hearing it like this, so raw and honest in the middle of all this chaos it takes your breath away. Your heart swells so fast and so full it almost hurts.

“Max…” you breathe, your voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Your eyes sting, but you’re smiling, overwhelmed by the honesty in his face. “I love you.”

The words fall out of you like they’ve been waiting their turn. “I think I’ve known it for a while,” you add, grinning through the tears that threaten to spill. “I just didn’t expect it to come out because I crashed a damn kart.”

Max’s mouth curves into an adorable smile warm, crinkled, a little teary and for the first time all day the fear in his eyes fades. “Of course,” he says, chuckling as he squeezes your hand. “Leave it to you to nearly take yourself out just to get to this moment.”

You laugh, shaking your head as a tear escapes and slides down your cheek. “Hey, if it works, it works.”

He leans in slightly, his other hand reaching up to gently brush the tear away with the back of his knuckle.

“I love you,” he says again, quieter this time. Like he just needed to say it one more time to make sure it was real.

You smile up at him, heart thudding hard beneath your bandages and bruises. “I know.”

And in that moment, everything else pain, fear, uncertainty, melts into the background. Because you said it. He said it. And now it’s out there, tangible, pulsing between you like the steady rhythm of something solid and true.

The kind of love that doesn’t wait for perfect timing.

The kind that shows up even in the chaos.

The kind that stays.

[zenyyyluvyuu]

Oh my good looking boy

[jason todd x fem reader]

Synopsis: just him being your boyfriend for 3 years

Cw/tw: implied sex, ptsd, a little injury

Author note: my English is so broke and grammarly suck I'm so sorry guys 😔 and for this jason i make him with no j scar on his cheeks, kinda ooc I'm sorry 😿

First time & one year:

at first he was kinda nervous with you, but he put up good work with being your boyfriend. He is still a private person, Not telling his past directly. Especially how he was resurrected from the death.

He's not ready to talk about that with you. He's soft with you but didn't let people know that he's soft.

He's also not ready to tell you he was a famous vigilante. He doesn't put a lot of trust in you but still 40%. He might be afraid that his identity will be exposed by you or you run away from fear.

You're just some ordinary civilian. And he's a civilian in the day and vigilante in the night. But trust me he will make time only for you, he will stay at your cozy apartment. When he shows up with a bandage/bandaid in his body, he will makes some excuses to lower your worrieness

Like when you two were chilling on the couch, his hands on your shoulder, sharing warms together, when he reaches a remote to change channel you saw his hand in a bandage.

"Jason what's happened with your hands, did some do that to you?" You ask with your worry tone, as you take his hands. His shoulder begins to tense up.

"Nah I accidentally cut my hands babe, you shouldn't worry too much, I'm kinda clumsy you know?.." his finger is interlocking with yours. Damn his hands are really bigger than yours.

You look at his face, looking if he lies. But then you let out a sigh. He must be really clumsy.

"okay then, but next time be careful.." he gives you a warm smile, he kisses your knuckles.

"no promises" he grins. Letting your head lean on his shoulder, he feels warm, not the uncomfortable warm but soothing warm from you.

Yeah yeahh fantastic 😈

he has to go out early from your apartment because he has a business to do, family business and job business (excuses)

In the end he was a good boyfriend. When walking out to take fresh air or a park. He will hold your hand and let you hold it first, or let you on the safe side of the road.

Hold an umbrella for you, let you sit on the back of his motorcycle and him riding it. He was also a protective yk and he respected your boundaries.

in intimate stuff he will kiss your lips, forehead and even your knuckles. Sex doesn't come first for you both and he doesn't want to scare you with his scarred body. Even the autopsy one. (His scarred hands were Exception)

Two year of dating:

he began to open up with you when he decided to do a sleepover at your apartment. And he now had a nightmare, woke up sweating and pale, his breath laboured. But you were there, with him, besides him. You calm him down, telling him reassuring words. Give him comfort.

You give him a space as you get out of the bedroom to get a cup of warm water for him. when you're gone, he begins to think that you're not like other people he had met before.

Your words bring comfort and calm, and you soothe him. He lets you hold him for a while. Rubbing a circle on his back, kind of soothing for him.

Tomorrow was kinda normal like usual, he sleeps Longer than usual, giving you an opportunity to make breakfast for him. You manage to slip from the bed. Tiptoed to your small kitchen, closing the bedroom door quietly.

When he wokes up, the first thing he does is rubbing the bed where you sleeps. When he feels the emptyness from where you sleep, he jolts awake, he sits up straight, looking at the room.

Okay he's still in your apartment, on your bed. He was raised from the bed, peeking over the door, and then it hit him. The Aroma of food you were making. He opened the door wider, letting himself out of the room.

Slowly he comes to you, you were in your cute apron, making breakfast.

"(name)?"

He called your name quietly, but enough for you to hear him. You turn around to face him, you give him a smile.

"ah! You were awake! I made breakfast" you stirr the food on your pan, he came closer to you. Letting his head fall to your shoulder. His hand is holding your waist, not tightly but light.

"last night ... Sorry for waking you up..and making you worried.." his eyes didn't meet you, still on your shoulder.

You pat his head gently.

"it's okay jay.. do you want to talk about it? After breakfast?.." he let out a sigh. But he let out a nod of approval.

Breakfast came quiet and slow, not suffocating but cozy. You glance at him chewing at the food.

"Is the food tasty? I think the salt is not enough." You continue to chew at your food.

He shook his head no "it is tasty, It's not lacking salt, really" he gazed at you.

You give him a smile "really? Glad you enjoyed the food."

He gives you back a small smile. Continuing his purpose to eat again.

The breakfast ends normally. He wants to do the dishes but you insist that he should stay on the couch and let you do the dishes. He can't say no when you give him a look.

When you're done, you go back to the couch, meeting him. His shoulder is already tense as you sit next to him.

"do you trust me (name)?" He asked you with those eyes. "Of course i trust you jay, why did you ask me that?" You ask back.

He was quiet for a minute and let out a sigh.

"I'm redhood."

"what?"

"you hear me (name) I'm not playing right now"

"..."

He didn't look at your expression. Too scared to look at your disappointment and the terrified look. He lowered his head, facing the floor beneath him. Closing his eyes waiting for the moment of it.

"what's wrong with being redhood?"

He opens his eyes quicker than ever, he looks at you. You didn't give him the terrified look or even disgust.

Instead you give him a warm look. Your eyes are comforting.

"You're not scared?"

"why would i be mad when my boyfriend is a freaking redhood, i get a free bodyguard you know? And even a good man like you" you give him a small smile.

"before we are dating, i sometimes almost get mugged you know? That's why i carry pepper spray, but when we do date, i no longer feel danger nearby because i have my vigilante boyfriend protecting me"

He paused a little. Damn his chest is giving him a really warm feeling right now. His shoulder relaxed. He let out a sigh of relief. Feeling better.

But he has to tell you more than that.

After that he tells you about him first being a robin and how he died by the hand of the joker. How he resurrected from the pit. How his mind was a mess and overwhelming. Turning him into this, redhood.

And you stay quiet and nod while he tells you all his past. Your face didn't change, but Your eyes hold a sorrowful depth, a quiet melancholy that lingers like a shadow.

After that you give him a sooting words to lower his nerves and tenses. His anxiety.

His hand holding yours tighter. He glanced at you, you didn't look at him but his callous finger. His scarred hand, you trace a circle on his hand. Bring him warm

And for the first time he feels like he feels inlove with you twice.

___

Night comes again, he sleeps in your apartment again. But this time is different.

You were getting ready when he took off his shirt, leaving his sweat shirt. You are agape at his muscles body. But his skin was full of scar even the autopsy one.

Kinda hot right? 😈

"it's terrifying right?" He asked you, you quickly shook your head no. He raised a brow.

"no! It's alright.. I'm not scared at all"

"you do?"

You nod really hard.

You get up from the bed and to him. Your steps were slow and finally you were in front of him.

"can i?"

He nod

You gently trace his scar with your finger. Your touch was slow and Calm. He let out shivers at your touch. Your cold finger meets his warm skin.

He holds your hands stopping you from admiring his build.

"your hands are cold" he huffed, his breath warm on your forehead.

".. then why don't we share a warm time then jay?" You give him a reassuring smile.

He let you guide him to the bed, he plop on the bed first and your turn.

Yeah like that yuh uh

He Inhales your hair, the smell of your shampoo.

He holds your hands tightly but is not Hurtful. You can hear his steady heart beat. His body is warm. Too warm even. Like a human heater.

___

Days passed and Jason began to open more to you, he keeps staying at your apartment, like he doesn't even have one. Yeah he's staying.

You do not mind also, it's nice having a company instead of alone.

He will probably buy you food or takeout. And he has this like a habit.

When you two are sleeping together, he will Cover your blanket, like adjusting it or even raise the blanket higher to your body. To keep you warm!

Three years dating:

And now he has claimed your apartment is like his home too. He leaves his apartment abandoned, well when he needs something he will go back to his own to take the things and go back to your house.

And when you confort it to him, he just shrugs. Like he cares anyway.

And now he decided to move on to your home.

Well move on means a little renovation right?

Yep he does it all, so you don't need to worry much, he got this.

He does the heavy lifting and you do the lighter one or decorate.

And when it's done, it looks cozy. The bedroom you shared was now upgraded, the bed is wider than you used to sleep in.

Fits only two people, jason and you of course.

The closet is upgraded to, from small to big. With his clothes in it mixed with yours.

A little decorations from you too.

The kitchen was... Well it's normal just no need for some movement. Just more equipment.

Even the bathroom is just some equipment upgraded. More med kit, toothpaste, soap, shampoo and his toothbrush.

The living room is uhh normal just you decorate it to be more cozy and Jason helps you.

You admire the works you two do. He let out a huff. He crossed his arms, his bicep flexing. You give a glance at his build. God damn.

The two of you take a break on the couch, relaxing.

___

The night. You are getting ready after dinner, preparing to sleep, when jason hugs you from behind. He didn't wear anything besides his sweatpants

His head on your shoulder. Inhaling your smell. You turn your head to him.

"jay?"

He let out a sigh, and he started to kiss you, it started from your jaw to your cheeks. And then your lips.

He rest his fore head on yours. Giving you an adoring look. You give him a smile. Your cheeks is burning. He continues to kiss you, nice and slow.

You reply to the rhythm of his lips.

And then he will guide you to the bed and uhh

Plap plap plap lmao

_____

The day starts usually. The morning he wakes earlier than you did, he was a light sleeper.

Letting you rest he slips out from the bed to the kitchen. He cooks breakfast for you both.

In just his sweatpants and an apron.

And then when you wake up he is already prepared for the plate for you both. The savory smells hit your nostrils. Giving you excitement.

He smirks at your arrival, he gives a kiss to your forehead.

"morning sleepyhead" muah

"morning"

And then breakfast. Nom nom

He was now closer to you, and more protective. He sometimes silently pays the rent when you insist on splitting.

And he loves to tease you, hear you laugh and giggle. He was more humorous. And you love it.

Whenever you go he will be right beside you, he will be following you everywhere. Drive you walk you.

And your shared apartment safety Increase is more secure.

He's kinda paranoid yk, don't forget to chat with him when you come home safely from your work, walk and anywhere.

And sex uhmm. Well you guys kinda do it usually, in private ofc. He feels more confident when he's bare. He also has experience yk, and he can go nice and slow to rough and fast.

_________________________________________________

Alr i hope you like my cringe fic again. And forgive me for any mistake that i write, and the broken English and grammarly wrong. And again i hope you like my fic

I'm sorry for the hiatus i will make time for y'all 😸

Don't forget to stay hydrated 🔅😸

Edit: a little stuff that i forgot to add sorry

[qinche-cvmslvt]

CW: SMUT. Joyride, NSFW. 21+. Pussy eating, outdoor sex.

“When you’re sitting behind me, there are things more interesting than speed.”

Another free Sylus card 😩😩❤️❤️❤️❤️ I was just talking in my discord this morning how I wanted more motorbike Sylus cards. This is unreal. ❤️

Like the feel of your breasts pressing against his back as you hold onto him tightly.

His hand reaching behind him travelling up your thigh, squeezing, silently communicating that he can feel the heat of your body even through the motorcycle gear.

Your hands roaming his torso, slipping under his shirt, tracing the ridges and lines of his hard abs. Making him shudder beneath your touch. His groans lost in the wind but you can feel the vibrations through his back.

He picks up speed. The adrenaline of the motorbike, your touches getting too much. He needs you. Needs more. Needs to taste you.

The bike comes to halt. Neither of you care about the open setting anymore. You need him just as much as he needs you.

He uses his evol to keep his bike steady and up right as he bends you over the seat. His hands making quick work of your jeans yanking them down your thighs and exposing your dripping cunt to the cool night air.

As much as he wants to thrust into you, he doesn’t. Even with the thrill and the risk of outdoor sex he wants to take his time with you. Wants to make you cum at least twice. He drops to his knees behind you. His large hands firmly gripping your ass as he spreads you open. Groaning at the sight of your glistening sex.

“So fucking wet for me, Kitten.” Without further preamble he leans forward, his tongue delving between your folds. Expertly eating you out. He knows your pussy well after all. It’s his favourite place to be.

You grip onto the motorbike, knuckles turning white as your moans fill the night air and the obscene sounds of Sylus enjoying your juices. His fingers join in. Starting off nice and slow, relishing the feeling of your hot wet walls clenching around two of his long large fingers.

He knows just where to stroke and rub to get you over the edge. Your pussy flutters around his fingers, your release gushing out of you onto his hand and mouth. Sylus groans, “fuck yes.” His cock throbs painfully against his pants. The dual zippers seemingly ready to burst from the pressure but he doesn’t pull back yet. He’s gonna wring out every ounce of your pleasure. He loves sending you into overstimulation until you’re begging for relief.

“Sy… p-please!” You whimper. With a satisfied smirk, he licks between your folds a few more times before pulling away.

Sylus makes quick work of his pants. Freeing his large straining cock. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, Sweetie.”

He strokes himself a few times before easing himself inside your warm centre, groaning at the exquisite sensations. As much as he’d love to fuck into you hard and fast straight away he knows how big he is, that he needs to give you a chance to adjust.

You arch your back. Your sweet moans and gasps like music to his ears as he fills you.

“I could stay like this forever, Kitten.” he groans as he starts to move, the drag of his thick veiny cock against your walls is exquisite. As he feels you relaxing and getting used to his intrusion he grips your hips and starts fucking you faster.

“Ah..ah.. oh fuck.. Sylus!” You cry out in pleasure. He feels deep in any position but when he’s behind you like this… it’s so fucking intense. Your eyes water from the intense pleasure but you look at him over your shoulder. Your face flushed and you’re panting. “D-don’t stop.” You whimper to reassure him that you’re okay.

Sylus nearly cums right then and there. The sight of you, a whimpering, flustered mess. All because of him. “Perfection.” He grunts as he continues to pound into you. Sylus feels his orgasm building at the base of his spine. He reaches around you, finding your clit and massaging it. There was no way he was cumming before you had your second orgasm.

“F-fuck… Sylus!” You throw your head back in pleasure. The dual stimulation of his fingers on your clit and him fucking into you is too much. Your body trembles and shakes beneath him as you orgasm over his cock. Your pussy rippling along his pistoning shaft.

Sylus lets out a loud guttural moan at the feeling of your cunt clenching his cock. “That’s it, Sweetie. Fuck you’re amazing.” After a few more thrusts he hilts inside you. His release barreling down on him. Thick ropes of his cum paint your insides. Marking you as his in the most primal way.

Sylus collapsing against your back, you’re both panting. He nuzzles into your neck. Inhaling your scent as he places a few kisses onto your sweat slicked skin.

“You’re so beautiful. Sweetie. I love you.”

[moonstruckme]

Hey Mae, you wrote a Spencer smut blurb a while ago about him helping reader speak up in the bedroom and at the end it mentions him using his handcuffs on reader. Just wondering if you would write a followup to that heheh 🌚

Thank you for requesting babe ;)

cw: smut mdni, bondage, slighttttt dom spencer but not really it's a collaborative effort haha

Spencer Reid x afab!reader ♡ 652 words

You make an involuntary whimpering sound. 

Spencer lifts his head to look at you. “You okay?” 

“Y…yeah.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Very sure.” 

Your boyfriend’s look softens. “Okay. Try not to sound so distressed, please? It makes me think you’re not having fun.” 

“Sorry.” You want to tell him that you’re not having fun, but you are, really. The bite of metal into your wrists is a welcome, if frustrating, restraint. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, sweetheart,” Spencer assures you, voice turning slow as he lowers his lips back to your shoulder. The brush of his knuckles against your inner thigh is enough to make another whimper rise in your throat. 

The handcuffs were your idea. You don’t think bringing work into the bedroom would have ever crossed Spencer’s mind, but your stomach had flipped excitedly when he’d locked them over your wrists. He was careful not to make them too tight, told you to say something if they started to rub your skin wrong, but you sort of enjoy the pressure of them each time you tug against the bed frame. 

Spencer’s curiosity is just as fervid in the bedroom as it is out. He takes his time with you, cataloguing each movement and sound. Your breath hitches, and he tilts his head, an academic. Scientific fingers explore every curve and bend. 

You’re seeping arousal from between your folds before he even gets there. 

“Spence,” you plead.

“Hm?” 

“Can you just—” You can’t say it. You know Spencer appreciates plain language, but you can’t make yourself. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the hint. 

He does. He smiles, the asshole. “Can you be patient? I’m getting there.” 

“Today?” 

“Okay, fine.” Spencer laughs as he pushes two fingers into you, their path slick and easy. You gasp in surprise. “Is this what you want?” 

“Please.” 

“I told you I was getting to it.” His voice gentles. He touches his lips to the side of your throat, fingers moving slowly in and out of you. Curling. Gently, so gently. “You know you do better when we build up to it.” 

You almost miss the days when Spencer was still shy around you. When sex made him nervous, when he didn’t know your body quite so well or feel so confident in how to make you tick. 

He’s right, of course. 

“I’m—ahh…”

“Yeah, I know.” Spencer kisses the flat of your chest. Doubtless feeling your erratic heartbeat. “You never like it when it’s happening, but you’re happy afterward. You’ll thank me.” 

It’s not violent, your undoing; Spencer takes you apart gently, with careful fingers, and then swallows the cry that escapes you like it’s his favorite flavor. 

Your wrists are lined with agitated circlets when he pushes into you. You’re well worked open by then. Time is lost to you. You gasp and roll your hips, desperate to grab him, your fists curling around nothing. 

“Hey.” Spencer’s thumb presses over your pulse, a barrier between you and the cuff. “Relax. Be careful with yourself.” 

His lips are parted, pupils blown but eyes soft with concern. You love him. It’s not the first time you’ve thought it, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve said it, but suddenly you feel it achingly, urgently, tearily. You love him you love him you love him. 

“Come here,” you beg him in as nice a voice as you can. 

Spencer listens, because he always listens to you, really, even when you’re all tied up and helpless and probably a little delirious. His mouth covers yours with reassuring warmth. 

“Still okay?” he asks, just to be sure. 

“Yes.” You press towards him, kissing his chin, his jaw, his sweaty cupid’s bow. “Oh my god, yes.” 

“Okay.” Spencer links his fingers through yours. Pushing you back, but staying close to you. You shudder at the contact. “We’re okay.” 

“Just stay here, please.” 

“Where do you think I would go?” 

[kxsagi]

so i know i just made a request earlier BUT HEAR ME OUTT

Shopping day with rin where he follows reader around like a lost puppy, carrying her bags and shit. he looked so lovesick looking at reader and the next day, he goes to practice to get teased by his teammates cuz some mf took pics of him being sappy and posted it. he realizes His priv relationship with reader was exposed and now they’re trending EVERYWHEREEE, the notifications going crazy. but reader reassures rin it’s alright and that she doesn’t mind at all hehe

VERY SPECIFIC I KNOWW BUT I HAD THIS SCENARIO PLAY OUT IN MY HEAD AND I REALLYY WANNA SEE YOU WRITE IT😞

“𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠”

a/n: your ideas girl 😫

btw i wonder if rin really will take the real madrid offer to play with sae

it all started with a simple shopping trip. or at least, that’s what you had intended. a casual day out, just you and rin, hitting a few stores, grabbing a late lunch, and enjoying some much-needed time together before his packed schedule swallowed him whole again. 

but what you didn’t account for was your 6’1 pro soccer-playing boyfriend – aka rin “cold and aloof” itoshi – turning into the most lovesick, clingy golden retriever the second you dragged him into the first store. 

“do you like this one?” you asked, holding up a cute top against your chest, glancing at him for approval. 

rin, with two shopping bags already dangling from his fingers, simply stared at you. like stared stared. his dark eyes all soft and warm, the usual sharpness dulled into something so openly affectionate it was almost disorienting. he didn’t even hear your question. he just blinked once, slowly, and then gave you a dazed nod. 

“you didn’t even look properly,” you teased, lightly poking his cheek. 

he blinked again, snapping out of whatever dreamland you had him in. “huh? no, i did,” he muttered, even though he clearly hadn’t. his hand absentmindedly drifted to the small of your back, pulling you closer, like he needed to feel you against him at all times. 

as you flitted through aisles, tried on shoes, and admired jewelry, rin trailed behind you with zero complaints. he carried your bags without question, let you tug him by the wrist into stores he’d never set foot in on his own, and leaned down so you could fix his slightly messy hair without the faintest protest. 

the striker? he was so damn obvious about how down bad he was. arms loosely draped around your waist as you waited in line. standing a little too close behind you, his chin practically resting on your shoulder, his eyes half-lidded in contentment. one moment he was holding your hand, the next he was absently rubbing your knuckles with his thumb like he forgot the world around him existed. 

and apparently, some nosy ass onlooker with a smartphone found it too cute not to capture. 

the next morning, rin strolled into practice, stretching his arms over his head. his teammates were already mid-warm-up when he entered the pitch. business as usual. or so he thought. 

“yo, loverboy!” karasu called out, breaking into a shit-eating grin. 

rin narrowed his eyes slightly, confused. but before he could question it, his phone buzzed. again. and again. and again. 

he tugged it out of his pocket. his notifications were losing their minds. 

[💬 group chat: FC PXG idiots] shidou: YO LOOK AT RIN LMAOOO 😭😭 charles: bro’s whipped out of his MIND nanase: literal golden retriever bf energy charles: 📸📸📸 LOOK AT THESE PICS HAHAHA 

rin blinked. once. twice. then clicked on the attached images. 

there he was. plastered all over social media. photos of him following you around with heart eyes. one of him holding all your shopping bags with a dopey little half-smile. another where he was standing behind you with his arms lazily draped around your waist while you examined perfume bottles. and to top it all off, there was even a short video someone had taken, captioned: 

“the way this man is so down bad. i want what they have 😭❤️”

his fingers twitched. his entire private relationship, which you both had been so careful to keep under wraps, was now… trending. 

“what the hell…” rin muttered under his breath, swiping through post after post. his face grew warmer with every one. 

and of course, his teammates didn’t let it slide. 

“damn, you’re practically wagging your tail in that one,” karasu teased, clapping rin on the back. 

“dude, you were looking at her like you were about to drop to one knee right in the mall,” shidou added, smirking. 

charles snorted, scrolling through the tags. “bro, you’re trending everywhere. even my aunt just reposted you guys with the caption: ‘young love is beautiful 💕.’” 

rin was gonna pass out. or combust. maybe both. 

he clamped a hand over his mouth, muttering, “i’m never showing my face in public again.” 

but then his phone buzzed. a message from you. 

[💬 pretty 💕] sooo… we’re kinda trending lol 🤭 do u hate me for making u go shopping? ☹️

his shoulders sagged slightly. he exhaled and typed back. 

[💬 maybelline sky high mascara 🩵] … no but i might have to retire early and flee the country. 

hours later, practice wrapped up, and you were already waiting for him by the gates. sunglasses perched on your nose, a small smirk tugging at your lips. the second he spotted you, he beelined over. 

“you’re taking this way too well,” he muttered, tugging down your glasses slightly to meet your eyes. 

you hummed, tilting your head. “should i be freaking out?” 

“uh, yeah? everyone knows about us now.” his voice was quieter than usual, like he was worried someone might still be eavesdropping. 

but you just grinned. stepping closer, you looped your arms around his neck and tugged him down slightly, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “is that so bad?” 

rin blinked at you, clearly thrown off by how unfazed you were. your thumbs brushed against the nape of his neck, grounding him, while his hands automatically found your waist. 

“i don’t mind,” you murmured softly. “i mean… it’s you. why would i?” 

for a second, his breath caught. the tension in his shoulders unraveled all at once, and his fingers curled into the fabric of your jeans, holding you a little tighter. 

his lips brushed against your temple. “you’re dangerous, y’know that?” he mumbled. 

“mhm.” you smiled, leaning back slightly to look at him. “but you love me anyway.” 

his dark eyes softened even further, and he leaned down again, pressing his forehead lightly to yours. the notifications could wait. the trending tweets could wait. the entire world could wait. 

because right now? rin only saw you. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[ghouljams]

So bestie, can we get a bit more 1860s! Price? I'm beggin. I'm a sucker for men who want it so bad and women that don't quite reject them.

He so rarely comes into your clinic that you turn your blade on the deputy as soon as hands grab your hips.

"John," relief colors your sigh, and you lower your knife back to the table, content that you're not being stolen away by anyone nefarious, just being bothered by a terrible flirt.

"Any way to greet your future husband?" He chuckles, leaning against your back to push his face against your neck. His beard tickles, but his lips are soft where they trace your pulse.

"Thought you were buildin' me a house." His hum vibrates against your skin. He's warm, soaked up too much of the sun, and it seeps into your skin even through your clothes.

"Heat's gettin' to me." He presses the words into your skin and you shiver. It's getting to you too, soaking you with sweat so that you'll roll up your shirtsleeves, hitch your skirts higher in the privacy of your practice. John's hands trace over your waist, over the seam of your skirt, finding the bones of your corset and following them down and up, down and up. Dizzying.

You push back into him, eager to find him hard, to feel the press of him against you. It's improper, but you're just as subject to the throbbing between your thighs as any man would be. Perhaps more so when it's John that leans his weight against you and grinds his cock against you with a lazy reassurance that he has nothing to do, and nowhere to be but here with you.

"Let me clear space," you fumble through the words, your fingers scraping over the wood of your work desk, mind attempting to catch on what needs to be put away and what can merely be shoved to the side.

"What for?" John rumbles, his hands are already searching, already tugging your skirts up, "Don't let me distract you sweet'eart, keep workin'."

Easier said than done. Your hands are unsteady even as you place them flat against the table, body shivering in anticipation as stagnant air greets your legs. John's fingers sweep between your thighs as quickly as he can get your skirts raised to do so, rough pads swiping through your folds, seeking out the already slick hole that lays between them. It's the heat, it melts sense out of the mind, makes your normally logical thoughts stutter to a halt as one of those fingers presses in, in, in to your cunt.

You make a choked noise, sound trapped behind your rips and your head bowed. You stare at your splayed fingers and try to remember what you were doing before John came in. Some spread of herbs covers the table, ergot, maybe. John's finger draws in and out of you, pushing and pulling at the slowly built heat that bubbles so low in your gut. The warmth of the movement spreads over your skin, tingling with each scrape of his palm against your bottom, with each drag of his knuckle against your entrance.

You push back into the feeling and he clicks his tongue. You're supposed to be working. He moves one of your hands to the knife you'd held, and slips his finger free to circle the digit around your clit. Knives are the last thing you should be handling, but you take it, grip it with too tight fingers and begin separating the leaves from their stems again.

"There you go," John rubs his finger over your clit, and you press the blade of your knife against the table as you squeeze your eyes shut against the feeling. "Just take it slow."

Slow is all you can manage with him touching you. His finger returns to working you open while you slice leaves like molasses through snow. Each slice precise and agonizingly long. The pump of John's finger turns one into two, stroking at your walls, searching with each crook of his fingers. You clench around them, feel the bones of his fingers drag against your soft walls, callused and worn skin meeting the most delicate parts of you.

"Like velvet," John husks against your ear, "you give me the world I'll wrap this pussy so tight around my cock you'll never walk away again."

It's all too tempting like this. Too easy to let whines slip free of your lips, to try and force his hand without giving him a word. To arch your back and wiggle your hips and tempt the way you've seen girls at the saloon tempt. It's the heat, the sun beating down on the world and turning men into animals. Singularly focused, desperate, needy as the moan that finds voice when John's free hand finds your throat.

"Want ta feel you say it." He squeezes his fingers, lips scraping your ear, "Fuck me." Your breath shudders out of you, words failing just to feel the bare of his teeth when he repeats himself. "Fuck me."

John's always hated repeating himself.

"Fuck me," You fold, voice lost to the empty room, words for no one but John Price.

You barely mourn the loss of his fingers before the head of his cock notches against your entrance. Sinful, that's the only word for the burning stretch, for the sinking, the swallowing of your cunt around him. Each rocking of his hips eases another inch inside, knocks another breath from your lungs. He finds the deepest pit of you, pushing his hips against your ass and circling them, knocking that aching darkness until it feels like it'll swallow you whole.

"Thought you needed a house," John hums.

"We can add an extra room," You murmur, turning your head to try and catch his eye. His hand moves, cradling your jaw to keep your head tipped when he wants. Your neck twinges from the stretch, but you can't seem to bring yourself to care when his lips find yours and his hips begin to thrust.

[callme-holly]

could you maybe please do some scenarios for (y/n) comforting sodapop, Dallas, ponyboy, and Johnny if you want please. also could you please make the reader fem please and thank you

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 [𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬, 𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐝𝐞.]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - im a little behind on requets but im getting there! i've got my final exam of this week tomorrow and then i'll be a lot speedier, i promise. asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mentions of fighting, getting jumped and small injury detail

Dallas Winston -  The room is quiet as you card your fingers through Dallas’ hair, the greaser’s head resting against your thigh. His eyes are closed, and there's a nasty bruise blossoming on his cheekbone, accompanied by a few bloodied scrapes that he refuses to let you clean. There’s dried blood crusted beneath his nose, which you wipe away gently with the pad of your thumb, humming softly under your breath as he breathes out a low, soft groan.  “You alright?” Your tone is barely above a whisper as you tug at the ends of his mussy locks, pushing them back from his face. He blinks once or twice, his eyelashes fanning against his cheeks, and his expression is a little less pained than it was just minutes ago.  “Yeah,” he murmurs after a moment, “fine.” He shifts a little bit so that his head is now more firmly planted upon your lap, and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer in a half embrace. You reach down between the two of you and retrieve the ice pack that is sitting forgotten beside you, pressing it against his swollen cheek once more.  He makes a disgruntled noise but doesn't open his eyes again.  “Sorry 'bout this.” His voice is rough, strained from the exertion: “Y' shouldn't have to take care of me all the damn time.” The words fall heavy between the two of you as he speaks, and you smile softly, shaking your head. “It ain't too much trouble, really.” You rub small circles against his bicep, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “And besides...” your voice drops to an almost conspiratorial murmur, “I like taking care of you. It makes me feel better when I know you're not lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”  He gives you a lopsided grin at that, eyes still closed. “You've got so much faith in me, doll.”  Your smile widens, feeling something twist inside of you. You take his hand, squeezing it gently before pressing a quick kiss to his busted-up knuckles. “Whatever.” 

Sodapop Curtis -  A small sigh leaves your lips as Soda buries his face in your chest, arms wrapped tightly around your middle, tears cascading down his cheeks as he struggles for air.  It pains you to see him like this, his usual bright smile replaced with a look of pure anguish, silent sobs racking his body. You rub slow circles against his back, mumbling soft words of reassurance into his ear as he clings to your shirt. “I don’t understand,” he gasps, his voice thick with emotion. “Why can't they just get along? They never used to be like this. A shudder runs through him, and you tighten your hold on him, rocking him a bit back and forth as he cries. “Shh, Soda, hey, you need to breathe,” you murmur soothingly, combing your fingers through his hair. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.” You press a soft kiss to the top of his head, hushing him quietly as his cries gradually abate.  “I just want them to get along.” Soda whispers brokenly, burying his face against your collarbones. “I'm tired of being made to pick sides. I don't wanna be in the middle all the time.” You hum sympathetically, shifting slightly so that you can wrap both arms around him and pull him as close as physically possible. Soda melts into your touch, relaxing fully against you. You can tell he's exhausted, both emotionally and physically.  "I hate it.” He sounds miserable. “All they do is yell at each other. Darry is way too hard on Pony, and Pony's trying his hardest, but he can only take so much–" Soda stops abruptly, his breath hitched in his throat as another sob tears from him, wracking his body. His grip tightens around your middle and your heart clenches painfully at the sight.  “I just want things to go back to normal.” You give a slow nod, closing your eyes. “I know, I know. It'll be okay.” You press another gentle kiss to his temple and run your hands slowly up and down his spine, trying to offer as much comfort as you can. He relaxes under your touch, melting further into you as he tries to take deep, steady breaths, struggling to control himself.  You tilt his chin up so that he's looking at you once more, running your thumb over his cheek. “I love you, you know” “Mm,” he hums, blinking rapidly to rid his vision of the last remnants of tears. His eyes meet yours, and even though his gaze is glassy and filled with sadness and pain, his expression is soft and tender. “Love you too.”

Ponyboy Curtis -  You're sitting in the lot, your jacket pulled tightly around you, when you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. You stiffen and turn sharply, expecting to see a group of drunken socs or the odd greaser looking for trouble, only to come face to face with none other than Ponyboy Curtis. He has tears streaming down his cheeks, his hair mused as he all but throws himself at you, shoulders shaking and chest heaving. You don’t speak a word as you pull him into your arms, rubbing your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to calm him. His head comes to rest on your shoulder, one fist clutching the front of your sweater as tight as possible, the other hanging uselessly by his side. For several moments, he sits in silence, letting you hold him while he finally manages to collect himself. Then he pulls back, wiping furiously at his face. “Sorry…” You don’t miss the way he averts his gaze from you as he speaks, refusing to make eye contact. “Didn't mean to bother you; I just—”  You shake your head, interrupting him. “There’s no reason for you to apologise.” You pause, considering for a long moment before continuing. “What's up?”  He exhales shakily, then hesitantly meets your gaze again. “I—Darry yelled at me again. He got real mad this time.” His voice cracks, and you pull him close once more. You know Darry’s been harder on him as of late, expecting too much of a boy Pony’s age. You know he means well, but you also know the toll it’s been taking on the younger Curtis brother and how difficult these past few weeks have been for him.  “Sometimes I don't think Darry likes me very much.” You can hear the vulnerability in his tone, unable to miss how broken he appears. He's not crying anymore; if anything, he looks a little embarrassed and ashamed. You frown, brushing his damp bangs from his forehead. “Don't be ridiculous.” Your tone is firm, determined to keep him from ever getting caught up in that dark spiral. “He cares about you a whole lot.” “He's got a funny way of showin' it.” Pony grumbles softly, and you can't help but laugh at his bluntness, wrapping your arms tighter around him. “I wish he'd be nicer. I really don't like all the fighting we do.” “I know. But it'll get easier.” You look down at him. “If you want, I can go talk some sense into him.” That earns you a smile as Ponyboy nods, squeezing you a little tighter. “Good luck. I doubt he’ll listen.” You press a quick kiss to his forehead, smiling softly. “I’ll try my best.”

Johnny Cade -  Arms circle around your waist, gripping onto you tightly as you comb your fingers through his tangled, and still heavily greased, hair. Johnny’s head rests in your lap, eyes squeezed shut as he tries desperately to fall into some sort of relaxed state, but he just can't seem to find the will within himself to do so. You watch him silently, running a finger absently along his jawline, taking in the bruises and cuts littering his face and arms. He looks worn thin and broken; his cheeks are tear-stained and hollowed by exhaustion. His breathing remains unsteady and uneven, his skin pale, and you can't help but reach out and brush the pad of your thumb across the faint lines beneath his eyes, your brow furrowing deeply. He flinches slightly but doesn’t open his eyes, his breath hitching. “Sorry,” You whisper, going back to smoothing your hand over his hair. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”  Johnny lets out a soft sigh, leaning his forehead against your stomach. “S' okay…” He shifts a little closer to you, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together. “...just glad yer here.” You bite your lower lip, tracing patterns into the back of his hand with your thumb, pressing soft kisses against his forehead as you let him snuggle closer, relishing in the simple closeness of it all. It eases your nerves knowing he's safe with you and calms the storm raging inside of you. Your mind wanders back to earlier, the images of him lying, half-dead, in that field flashing unbidden through your mind.   It takes a lot to make Johnny Cade cry, but the second you had knelt down beside him and pulled him into your arms while the gang huddled about you, his composure had completely crumbled. Sobs had wracked his body, shaking his entire frame, and you could do nothing but hold him until he had finally calmed down. And now, here he was, curled up into your embrace, clinging to you like a lifeline. Every little noise made him jump, every sudden movement made his muscles tense, and your heart ached for him. You wanted so badly to make everything better, but there was nothing you could do. All you could do was stay there, holding him as he cried, wishing that there was something you could do besides sit by and whisper softly to him. But, you know, right now, just you being there is enough for him.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[fear-is-truth]

˖˚⊹ 𝓙’s note: was supposed to post this on thanksgiving but i was so busy.. warnings: teasing. dirty talk. nsfw

thanksgiving dinner at your house was supposed to be an uneventful family affair. but this year was different. this year, your boyfriend was sitting next to you at the table, looking every bit like the golden boy your mum had immediately adored and your dad had reluctantly accepted.

rafe was playing his part perfectly; dressed in a crisp button-down and wearing a smile that could sell water to a fish. meanwhile, you were doing your best to focus on your plate and not what was going on under the table. you should’ve known the moment he slid his hand onto your thigh, fingertips tracing patterns over your skin, inching under the hem of your skirt. his face was the picture of innocence as he joined in on the conversation with your dad about golf or whatever they were talking about.

then your aunt asked you a question—something about work—and you forced a smile, answering as best as you could, but rafe chose this exact moment to press two fingers between your folds, where the fabric was most soaked and began to rub. you shot him a glare, but rafe didn’t even blink. if anything, he looked smug. he leaned back in his chair, pretending to be engrossed in the conversation, while his fingers busied themselves by pushing aside your panties, gathering the arousal to drag it against your clit. “stop,” you hissed through a forced smile. your mum was directly across from you, and the last thing you needed was her noticing.

when it was rafe’s turn to say what he was thankful for, you almost sighed in relief, thinking maybe he’d finally behave. he leaned back in his chair. “well,” he started. “i’m thankful for a lot of things—this amazing meal, for starters.” your mum beamed at that. “but mostly, i’m thankful for her.” his eyes flicked to you, and your stomach flipped. “for putting up with me, for always having my back, and for being the best thing to ever happen to me.”

the room erupted in a chorus of “awwws” and clinking glasses, and you felt your face heat up as everyone turned to look at you. rafe’s hand—the one farther from you—reached across his plate, wrapping around yours before giving it a gentle squeeze. his thumb brushed over your knuckles in an outwardly sweet and reassuring gesture, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told an entirely different story. he leaned in and for a split second, you thought he was going to kiss you—right there, in front of your whole family. instead, his lips hovered at your ear, “and i can’t be thankful enough for that sweet pussy of yours.”

your fork clattered against your plate as you choked on absolutely nothing. rafe went right back to eating like he hadn’t just destroyed you with one sentence. you couldn’t even look him in the eye for the rest of the meal. but the way his hand stayed on your thigh the entire time? you were definitely going to have words with him later.