#x bimbo reader

[dollyfetti]

a little nerd!bakugou x bimbo!reader drabble bc i love nerds!! :3

"mmh, i dunno, you're just so pretty, baby." you exhale shakily, batting your lashes seductively at the flustered boy sitting inches away from you with textbooks surrounding him on your bed. you were supposed to have a study night with your boyfriend, but it's hard when he looks like that! his cute reading glasses falling down his nose, a simple black tank, and messy blonde hair after a long day. katsuki's nose twitches as he readjusts his position. your hand falls to his knee, your thumb rubbing in small circles while waiting for him to make eye contact with you. he shyly drops the pen in his hand, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a nervous sigh. "we haveta study babe. ya promised, r'member?" he huffs, grabbing ahold of your hand while you slightly pout your glossy lip. you whine, scooting closer to him so you can feel his hot breath fanning against your face. "but honey..." you whine in a sugary-sweet tone. "i need you.." you whisper, pawing at the collar of his shirt. "fuck this." katsuki spits, throwing the textbook of his lap and pulling your neck towards him into a heated kiss.

[minispidey]

thinking of a comedic scene while having sex with logan raw. he says he got a snip and bimbo!reader immediately throws away all the condoms. so during sex instead of being fucked stupid, bimbo!reader gets fucked smart and gasps after the first orgasm. she remembers that logan can regenerate. even if he did get a vasectomy, it definitely healed.

cut scene to logan buying bimbo a plan b pill.

ps. i know logan isn't dumb enough to get a vasectomy because he knows he has a healing factor, but what can you do when your dumb ditsy girlfriend drags you to get the snip so you can fuck raw and save on condoms and pills?

[mariasont]

That anon was living under a rock because your smut fics (all of your fics tbh!) I reread wayyy to many times, lol. But if you’re taking smut requests, I’d love to see more bimbo!reader and Hotch! I can’t get enough.

I’ll take anything!! But more specifically, their first time, all of that built up tension (that you write so perfectly!) finally breaks!

Anyways, I never send in requests but I saw a window of opportunity and had to take it, haha.

Third Date Rule - A.H

summary: the third date proves to be worth the wait when you and hotch experience your first time together. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexy time, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, they did not in fact wrap it before tapping it and it's not really discussed so yeah idk about that one, aftercare wc: 7.7k

This was so overdue.

Technically, it's only been three dates. Technically.

But if you count all the years you'd known him, the months spent daydreaming about this moment, the weeks of waiting while he played the world's longest game of restraint, then really, you should have had him naked ages ago.

And if Aaron (which still feels like a thrill to say — Aaron — because you're dating now and you can freely call him that) wasn't so stubborn and noble and insufferably gentlemanly, you would have.

But tonight was finally the night. The third date. The sacred, hallowed, much-debated, universally accepted gateway to getting into the sheets. And yes, okay, maybe you barely survived the wait without jumping his bones, but that's hardly relevant now. The point is, you did it.

And now you're in his lap, his tie wound tight around your fingers, his tongue deep in your mouth, and gods, if this night didn't end with him inside you, you might actually die. 

Like, literally. Heart failure. Sudden death.

This was premeditated. At least, for you. You moisturized like your life depended on it, doused yourself in perfume that could be classified as a controlled substance, and selected a bra that made your tits look so insane, it might actually be illegal in some states.

And then you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking the perfect dress that says oh, I'm classy, but also please take me home and rip this off with your teeth.

You pull away, just enough to see him. To take in the slow bloom of pink trailing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way his pupils are so wide they’ve all but erased the brown of his eyes. And his lips — swollen and red from kissing you — part like he was debating how bad it would be to drag you right back in. You wouldn’t mind.

“Aaron,” you sigh, fingers burying into his hair, marveling at how absurdly soft it is, how freely he lets you have this piece of him. “We should go to bed.”

For a second, he locks up. Not hesitation but calibration, a body processing desire so sharp it might break him. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the quiet exhale through his nose.

"This wasn't my plan for the night," he murmurs, voice softer now, not strained, but steeped in something much gentler. Something careful. "I wasn't —," He shakes his head, like the whole concept doesn’t sit right in his mouth. "I don't want you to think this is just —,"

"Sex?"

You can see the way he wants to argue, like he wants to carve the word out of the air and replace it with something that means more.

"Yes."

You can’t stop the stupid, lovestruck smile pulling at your lips. Maybe it’s the wine from dinner finally working its magic. (It’s not.) Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, all serious and earnest, like you’re the only thing in existence, and if he blinks, you might vanish. (It definitely is.)

A laugh bubbles up, light and giddy, body not knowing what to do with all this adoration. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just to see if he’ll let you. (He does.)

“Are you serious? If you just wanted sex, you wouldn’t have spent actual years pretending my very dedicated, very expertly executed attempts to seduce you weren’t happening.”

His brow arches, but you see it for what it is — a stall. “Expertly, huh?”

"Remember that heatwave last summer? When I just had to eat a popsicle at my desk every afternoon?"

His eyes darken like the memory is playing in high definition behind his eyes.

"I remember."

"Do you?" Your fingers slip beneath his color. “Because —” You tilt your head. “I always seemed to finish them standing in front of your office —"

You don't even get to finish your sentence. 

One second, you’re speaking, the next, you’re airborne. Lifted clean off the couch, legs locking around his waist automatically, arms thrown around his shoulders like you planned this all along.

You didn’t, but you wish you had. 

Not that it matters, because he’s already moving, already walking straight to the bedroom.

You bury your smile against his jaw, letting your breath tickle against the shell of his ear as another giggle slips out. It couldn’t be helped.

"I really hope you know," you whisper, “that I am, like, stupidly excited for this. Like, counting down the days excited.”

Aaron sets you down on the mattress gently, but his body doesn’t follow right away, hovering over you.

"You're not making this easy for me."

You ignore him because you’re much more distracted by how insanely soft his sheets are. That was your first thought when your back hits the mattress, hair fanning across the pillows.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’ll catch the scent of your perfume tomorrow. If he’ll notice the ghost of you when he lays down alone.

Your second was that this is so not the time nor place to get emotional. 

But this is his space. His bed. His room.

It’s tidy, but somehow not sterile, everything having its place, but not afraid to be used. A book sits on the nightstand, a book mark sticking out mid-thought. A photo frame faces the bed, though from this angle you struggle to see what’s inside.

There’s his suit jacket from yesterday, draped over the back of a chair, a little rumpled. 

And maybe it's silly, but you feel weirdly honored to be here.

You should probably be processing this moment, what it means to be here, with him, like this. Instead, you take a second to admire the view.

The lamp softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost gentle — which is funny, considering how you hoped to be thoroughly destroyed by him.

Something expands inside you, stretching against the walls of your chest, something too big, something that terrifies you.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I can’t believe I’m about to sleep with my boss.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, his forehead dropping into the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart—,”

"What?" You giggle, letting your fingers slide through his hair, letting your nails rake lightly over his scalp. "It's true."

His sigh is nothing short of pained, but then he kisses your cheek anyway, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You were starting to feel like each was a thinly veiled attempt to tame you.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

"Yes, Mr. Hotchner." 

Every self-satisfied thought evaporates the moment he kisses you – really kisses you.

It’s not just a meeting of lips but a focused intensity, tongue sweeping inside your mouth and suddenly nothing before this mattered, because clearly, clearly, every kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this one. 

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, spine arching and he doesn’t stop you, just kisses you with a hunger that makes teasing obsolete, that makes breathing secondary to the way he’s taking from you, giving to you, all at once.

His lips wander, dragging across your jaw like he’s leaving invisible ink behind, pressing something permanent into your skin.

You hope you’ll wake up tomorrow and still feel him there.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, drawn by craving, by the need circling inside you like a ribbon of fire.

It stretches outward, licking at your skin, threading through your veins. His hands hold you still, spanning over your rib. His breath fans over your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.

You should be gloating right now. This is, after all, exactly what you wanted, what you worked for. A biting remark sits on the top of your tongue, but then his mouth moves, and he finds it.

That wicked, traitorous little dip beneath your jaw that turns your entire brain into pink, glittering static. He pauses, listening, feeling, before sealing his mouth over it again, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin like he’s testing a theory that he already knows the answer to.

Your fingers clench in his hair, a startled sound choking in your throat before you can stop it. And then, the bastard laughs. Not sweet, not kind, but low and sharp and smug because he knows exactly what he’s done. 

You had the upper hand. Past tense.

"There it is," he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, his tongue flattening over it just to make you squirm. "You want to know how I figured this out?"

You hum, or try to. But it’s pathetic because you’re barely conscious, every cell fried to uselessness by his mouth.

He mimics you, just to be an ass about it, mocking the dazed little sound like he hasn’t just reduced you to it. "You always reached for it when I looked at you too long."

Your mouth opens. Closes.

"Or," he continues, "when I stood too close to you at the coffee machine. You'd fidget, tuck your hair behind your ear like you weren't thinking about it." His exhale burns against your pulse. "Cute."

You gasp, a little offended, mostly turned on. "Oh, wow. Profiling me? At work? That's, like, wildly unethical."

"Didn't need to," he murmurs. "You were practically begging me to figure you out."

His mouth is perfect in the way lightning is perfect – striking, searing, and completely out of your control. It’s perfect enough that you can pretend not to hear him.

He sucks, slow and hard enough to tear a sound from your lips before you even know it’s there, something that feels like vulnerability in its purest form. Something you would never willingly give him.

His laugh is quiet, wrecking, as he pulls back, lips slick with your skin. "That good?"

His mouth makes quick work, over your collarbone, down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, down, branding every inch of skin he can reach. 

He stops at the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, you can't think about anything except how it's still on.

You want to strip it off, want to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice, but you’re well aware that if you try, if you even reach, he’ll stop you. Or worse, he'll make you wait. He'll slow you down, draw it out just to watch you squirm because patience is his weapon of choice, because he lives for making you suffer.

His teeth graze the swell of your breast, just enough to sting, and whatever fragile grip you had on yourself disintegrates on impact. Your hands fumble blindly for his face, fingers shaking, needing to see his eyes.

"Please, Aaron.” It’s an exhale, a prayer. “Need you."

You see the ripple of tension along his throat. And for one tiny, blinding second you think this is when he finally snaps, abandons his tolerance and just takes you.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he rumbles. "I'm going to take my time."

You whine, frustration bleeding from your fingertips where they clutch his shoulders, fingers digging in like you can physically push him into moving faster.

He does not move faster. 

His hands slide up to the straps of your dress, as he drags it down with all the urgency of a leisurely Sunday stroll. 

Your mind is halfway through an exceptionally justified complaint about how slow he is moving when he folds the dress.

Folds it.

Sets it aside. Doesn't toss it.

And that may be the hottest thing he's ever done.

Because you know he knows. He’s always known. Known that your things aren’t just things — that your dresses, your heels, your overpriced lip glosses aren’t frivolous, aren’t some shallow indulgence, but tiny, curated pieces of you.

He has listened to you decide between two pairs of shoes that are, for all intent and purposes, identical. He knows jasmine is mysterious and vanilla is flirty, knows that you’ll debate your right to own the same three shades of pink. 

And instead of dismissing it, instead of rolling his eyes (though he does that too), he folds your dress. As if it matters.

You stare at him, somewhere between melting and spontaneous combustion, and he simply raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

"No." You shake your head for emphasis, voice a little too weak to get the point across. "Just thinking I might have to marry you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers tracing over the pink lace like he’s trying to process it, like if he touches it enough times, it’ll confirm that this is actually happening and not some cruel illusion. His thumb brushes the scalloped edge, breathing shallow. You were pretty sure he’s currently having a full-scale existential meltdown over lingerie.

"Agreed," he murmurs, distracted, hooded eyes still glued to your chest. "I think the courthouse opens at eight."

Your giggle stutters, hiccups right out of you, because his hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming with no clear plan, just a man in crisis over how much of you he wants to touch first. His palms skate over your stomach, down your thighs, up over your breasts.

"So, this is all I had to do to convince you to do what I want?"

His mouth follows, retracting the path of his hands, rewriting, reworking, perfecting – because apparently, the first time wasn’t good enough, wasn’t thorough enough. 

"You think this is what did it for me?" His voice is hushed. "You could've walked into my office six months ago and told me to get on one knee.” A kiss, open-mouthed, starving, just below your navel. “I would've done it."

Six months ago. You don't know if you believed that.

Except now you're spiraling, backtracking, rewinding, piecing together little details like some lovesick conspiracy theorist with red string and a bulletin board. Every interaction, every loaded glance, every time he let you get away with high-level flirtation without so much as a blink. You thought you were testing him, but what if he was never fighting at all?

And before you can even recover from that, before you can file an official grievance about why no one told you sooner, his hands squeeze at your thighs, his mouth so close to exactly where you need him, and his voice —

"You're so beautiful."

His nose presses into the damp center of your panties, and your hands fly to his hair so fast it’s practically reflex, breath stalling in your chest like your body forgot how to function for a second. 

This is everything. What you've wanted, dreamed of, written in the margins of notebooks (hypothetically, of course).

It should be perfect, but suddenly, it isn't.

Uncertainty slips between the cracks, heat turning into something less solid. You don’t have time to find it, to name it, because he’s already there, already sensing it, already fixing it before you even know what’s wrong.

"Hey." His voice hooks into you, gently reeling you back from wherever your brain was about to go. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"No, I—," The words come out far too fast and desperate, and you can't decipher why it's so hard to say. "I do want to. Obviously." The nervous laugh that follows is definitely not your usual flirty confidence. "Have you met yourself? Because if you haven't, I would love to introduce you. Tall, devastatingly handsome — you'd love him."

His move curves, but his eyes stay patient and focused, giving you a second to breathe.

"It's just..." Another pause, another frustrated sigh. "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

"That's okay, we can take it slow." He moves so that he's hovering above you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his smile just amused enough to leave you flustered. "How long?"

"May."

"May?"

"Yeah, like, May. Three years ago."

Aaron just stares at you, processing. You can see the gears turning, the little mental loading wheel spinning, his expression caught between stunned and deeply interested.

His fingers creep up, sliding under your ribs, just close enough to the heavy swell of your tits to remind you exactly where you are. What he was doing to you before you so rudely derailed this into actual conversation.

"Really?"

You pinch his arm. "Hey! That is not an absurd amount of time."

"No. I know. I didn’t say that," he says quickly. "I'm just... surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His lips part and he immediately shakes his head, exhaling like he's physically trying to dispel what just ran through your mind, knowing exactly where your thoughts were.

"I just mean — I don't know how every man you meet doesn't immediately worship the ground you walk on."

"Oh, well, they do." You smile. "But I was only ever planning on letting one of them take me to bed."

You reach for his dress shirt buttons, tugging insistently, but your hands refuse to cooperate, not properly communicating with your brain.

It's his fault, you decide.

He looks too good, and it was extremely hard to focus on anything but that.

You have no idea how you survived dinner. Or the car ride home. Or even the eternity it took to get past the door, because that was definitely a struggle considering your mouth was all over his, tasting the whiskey he’d barely touched, before he could even get the key in the lock.

You spent all night picturing this, the way his hands would feel in you, the way his mouth would taste, the way his suit would look crumpled on the floor.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant you were a pretty terrible dinner guest. Nodding, smiling, pretending to listen, all while barely holding back the need to ride him in public.

Aaron laughs, clearly entertained by your struggle, and then, because he’s nothing if not arrogant, he starts undoing the buttons one-handed, to be a show-off.

It’s rude, really. Because now all you can do is watch, helpless as he peels himself open to reveal golden skin, dark hair dusting over firm pecs, trailing lower, disappearing beneath his belt. 

Your manicured fingers glide over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pushing his shirt away like uncovering some lost Renaissance painting that scholars would kill to get their hands on — something that should be in a temperature-controlled glass case, not just here, sprawled above you like he belongs to you. Which, he does, because he’s just letting you do this, letting you look. And you look. He is art. No, better than art. Art is stationary, lifeless, some brushstroke interpretation of what beauty should be. But this, him, he is warmth and breath and muscle.

Museums wish they had something this valuable. They’d burn down in despair if they knew he existed just for you.

"May," he muses, letting the word roll off his tongue, turning it over in his mind. "That's an oddly specific answer."

You make a vague sound of agreement, mostly just to acknowledge that yes, technically, he did say words, but you’re too busy to actually care. Too busy with spreading your hands over the planes of his chest, with grabbing at his belt.

"You were hired in May three years ago."

Your hands freeze. 

"That's... um weird." A slow blink. "Weird that you know that. Weirder that you noticed."

You work his belt loose, tugging it free. It’s meant to be a distraction, a well-placed touch to shift his focus from his revelation.

But then your plan backfires spectacularly because he’s hard, thick, unreasonably big and suddenly your fingers feel useless.

Aaron makes a sound — half a hiss, half a laugh — and his hands snap to your wrist, catching you before you can explore further, like he knew you were going to do that. "It’s okay, honey."

"I—I don't—," You blink up at him, floundering, desperately trying to sound casual. "That's, uh, I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Aaron’s smirk deepens, his grip on you slackening just enough to trick you into thinking he’s going to be nice.

But then his other hand moves, slipping between your bodies, sliding beneath the heat trapped between your thighs, finding the neediest part of you, and pressing.

Your whole body jerks, a startled gasp catching in your throat as sensation flares — hot, sharp, mercilessly good.

His fingers start to move, rubbing tight circles against you. Your hands cling, one locked onto his bare shoulders, the other pressing against his dick, desperate to make him feel even a fraction of what he's doing to you.

It earns you a groan, low and gritty, hips twitching against your palm, his breath is hot against your lips, his mouth hovering just barely out of reach.

"I won't tease," he promises, but the way he bites at your bottom lip feels like a lie. His tongue is quick to follow, flicking over the welt he’s just left, soothing the burn before sealing it with a kiss, just this side of messy. “Three years… that’s a long time.” His lips skim yours again. “For both of us.”

A pleased sound bubbles up from your throat, slipping between his lips, that makes it obnoxiously clear just how much you love those words. That is a sentence you’d like embroidered on a pillow. Maybe cross-stitched into a nice, elegant frame for your future shared bedroom. 

"Oh," you sigh, a smile stretching against his lips. "I really, really, like knowing that. That's, like, incredible news."

Your brows scrunch, and you pull back just an inch. 

"Just to be clear, though, you do mean in a wow, you've ruined me for other women way, and not in a I've been to busy for a sex life way, right? Because those are two different things, and I need to know which one we're working with here—"

Aaron huffs a laugh and instead of answering with words, his hands slip into your panties, fingers finding your clit without prelude. Skin to skin now, no fabric, no flimsy barrier. Just touch.

His fingers dip lower, dragging through the slick, indecent in how easily he moves through the mess of you. He makes a noise — nearly a groan, mostly a hum of appreciation, of possession — before he spreads it, smearing your own arousal over your clit, rolling circles.

"Oh, wow, sweetheart."

Your thighs fall open like you have no say in it — because you don’t, because every instinct in you is reaching for him, needing it like a fix.

And maybe, maybe that should be embarrassing — the obvious, shameless way you seek him out — but it’s a gorgeous kind of humiliation, a flush that spreads lower.

"Well," you gasp, chest rising in stuttering little pants. "Y—you kept me waiting forever."

Aaron hushes you with a soft tsk, his fingers pressing, stroking, coaxing you into sweet, mindless submission. Every movement feels preordained, like he already knows your body, like he’s a man who’s spent years thinking about this.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothes, murmuring it against the fragile skin beneath your ear, punctuating it with a kiss. "But I think I'm making up for lost time pretty well."

"I guess," you manage. "Th—that's acceptable."

Aaron chuckles, the vibration traveling straight into your skin. His lips descend, an idolization thing, but it’s the kind of devotion that sets you on fire.

His hands spread over your thighs, parting them gently.

Your underwear drags down, slipping over your thighs, grazing the curve of your knees, and then off. And suddenly, there's nothing separating you from his eyes, from the way the air licks over you, cool against the sticky heat between your thighs.

His lips part like he wasn't expecting to fall apart so easily. Like he thought he'd have more time, more control. And the power in it, the sheer, intoxicating power of knowing he's just as affected as you are, that this is breaking him open, makes your skin fizz, burn, ache for him even more.

If someone had told you a year ago that Aaron Hotchner, mister all-business-all-the-time, would be between your legs, staring at you like he's never seen anything more perfect, you would have said something nonsensical. Something about fate. Or destiny.

And you would have been right. Because you always knew this was a definite.

"Oh, honey.... You're gorgeous," It's almost a whisper, like the words were dragged out of him against his will, stolen straight from his lungs the second his eyes landed on you. His gaze drinks you in, head tilting, lips parting, tongue skating over the swell of his bottom lip. “I knew you would be, but…”

A sharp, sizzling spark races up your spine, white-hot and unbearable, but when it should tip over into relief, it withers into frustration. The kind that makes your body revolt against the absence of touch. Your hips buck, thighs squeezing as if you can somehow force the friction you’re being deprived of.

"Give me a second, baby," he teases, caressing his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Just wanna look at you."

His mouth moves in decadent passes, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your inner thigh.

Another kiss. Then another. So close.

Then he detours. Veers off, pressing his lips into the dip of your hip instead, dragging his tongue along something that is not your clit.

"So perfect."

His fingers prod through your folds, parting you, fingertips wading through the slickness pooling at your entrance. The sound that spills from him is sinful.

All of your muscles coiling tight, every inch of you scorching with unmet need and just when you think you're going to have to beg him, just when the words start to form —

He gives in. 

His tongue is there first, dragging a flat, broad stripe through your center, licking over every hypersensitive inch of you before looking up at you through hooded eyes. You swear you nearly come from the sight alone.

"Knew you'd be sweet."

Aaron doesn't waste another second, burying himself in you, mouth moving like he's been ravenous for this. 

His grip is firm as he spreads you wider, keeping you at his mercy. His lips wrap around your clit for a split second before he moves again, tasing, licking, humming, lapping up everything you're giving him.

It's messy. Wet. Dripping. His mouth moves as he tries to wreck himself on you. Each second convincing you that he wouldn’t mind suffocating here if it meant another taste.

His nose nudges against you, the angle so cruelly perfect it sends another violent tremor through your body, legs jumping against his shoulders. Your fingers grasp blindly for purchase, gripping the sheets, tangling in his hair, at anything you can reach. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs into you, words muffled by your pussy. "Let me hear you."

"Oh — " The sound falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block out the overwhelming pleasure if you just try hard enough.  "Oh, that's — "

Your hips stutter, thighs tightening around his face.

Aaron chuckles darkly, and you feel it more than you hear it, the sound pulsing through your core.

You’re not sure you have a body anymore, not sure you exist outside of this moment. You’re just sensation, just trembling atoms held together only by his hands, his breath, his voice. There’s no past or future – just now, just him.

If this is what it means to transcend, to be unraveled and rewritten in the same breath, then let it consume you whole. You could die like this, and it would be the kindest death you could ever ask for.

A single finger ghosts over your entrance, teasing but never quite committing. He dips in, just the barest of intrusion, and you shudder, clenching around nothing because it’s gone just as fast. 

He waits, just long enough to hear the next breathy fussing before finally spearing back in. Your eyes flutter shut, breath breaking apart in little puffs.

The sounds coming from your cunt should embarrass you, sticky, so shockingly loud that if your brain was working, you’d be mortified. But it’s not working. Not even a little. 

His hand flattens over your stomach and suddenly the pressure doubles, triples.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, oh my gods, Aaron, I—"

Your normal senses have left the building. Packed its bags, hit the road, abandoned you to whatever dark magic this is. Because this —this isn’t how your body works. This isn’t how guys work. You don’t come from this. 

But here you are, hurtling toward it at full speed and all because he decided you would.

It’s happening too fast, the pressure stacking. Your thighs shake open, stomach clenching so hard it aches. Your mind is lagging behind, still reeling, still trying to rationalize but it doesn’t matter because your body has already made its choice, has already given in, has already decided this is happening, whether you’re ready for it or not.

"Aaron, I think—,"

Aaron just groans, finishing your sentence for you, lapping up your confession with his tongue,

"I know, baby." Hot air blows against your swollen clit. "Let me feel it."

It crashes over you, back bowing off the bed. Your body splinters apart, thighs trembling so hard you couldn’t stop them if you tried. The edges of your vision smear into nothing as the pleasure consumes everything in its path. 

His mouth stays on you, tongue and fingers pushing you through the aftershocks until you’re clawing at the sheets, until that pleasure tilts so far into oversensitivity that makes you unaware if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.

Your limbs feel like liquid, consolidating into every inch of your body, melting into the mattress as Aaron moves to be face to face with you.

He's looking at you like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet, and maybe he is, because when his lips get close enough, you tug him the rest of the way down, crashing your mouth into his in a way that's all sloppy desperation.

You can taste yourself on him, can feel the way he groans into it when you sigh against his mouth, all soft and dreamy and drunk on gratification. 

When you pull back, your fingers card through his hair, fixing nothing but feeling everything.

"Oh my gosh," you gasp, dissolving into giggles, toes curling as you flop back against the pillows. "I knew you'd be good at that, obviously, but I wasn't expecting all that. Like wow, you should get a certificate of excellence or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically, "Or like, a trophy, a raise, a sash that says best head giver in gold letters—," You pause for a breath, sucking in air like you just realized how winded you are.

"— and I mean, I've never come like that before. So. You should probably put that on your résumé."

When Aaron presses against you, you feel every inch of him. Thick and unfortunately still restrained. His slacks are a cruel barrier, the rough drag of the fabric catching your clit in a way that rips a whimper straight from your throat.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, then he's mouthing at your neck, sucking, teasing, marking you.

"Firstly," he murmurs. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you."

An involuntary shiver rolls through you.

"And secondly," he continues, "the fact that they didn't even know how."

Your hands are frantic as they fly to his waistband, fumbling a bit, the last hindrance between you offensive in its existence. 

"Well, yeah," you sigh, looking up at him through fluttering lashes, glossy lips parted just for him. "I mean, you're literally the only one who's ever known what to do with me. That has to mean something, right? Like, cosmic destiny or whatever."

Aaron shoves his pants and briefs off, barely sparing them a second thought, and then he's back, fitted between your thighs.

"You already know the answer to that." His lips brush your temple. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you. And I plan on proving it."

"Yeah, okay," you say, squirming beneath him. "Not gonna argue when that sounds like the best idea ever."

You've seen a lot of versions of Aaron. You've seen work Aaron, serious and bossy, looking at crime scenes like he can hear the evidence whispering just to him. You've seen grumpy Aaron, glaring over his coffee when you talk too much at morning briefings (but you know he likes it, he just won't say). You've seen soft Aaron, the one who lets you steal his jacket even though you definitely don't need it.

But you've never seen this Aaron. This post-kissing-you Aaron. Lips slick, still damp with you, evidence of where he’s been, what he’s done.

His eyes flick to yours, and there’s no shame, no rush to wipe it away. If anything, he tilts his head, letting you see it from a better angle.

"You're so handsome, Aaron." Your voice trembles. You don't even know if you said it out loud or just thought it so hard he must have heard it anyway.

"And you,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your cheek, “are so damn sweet, honey."

You beam at that, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy that your thoughts are practically spilling out faster than you can catch them.

"Okay so I just need to say — this is so exciting, like, you do realize I've had a crush on you for years, right? And now this is actually happening, and that's just — wow."

You suck in a sharp breath, nails dragging over the thick muscles of his arms, across his shoulders.

"I mean, it's us, Aaron. Can you believe that? Like, I feel like this has been building for so long and now I'm just — gods, you're so hot, this is actually distracting me. I can't even finish my own thought —,"

You laugh, because you already feel so full of him and he isn't even inside you yet.

"And I know you're being all careful and slow because you're sweet and romantic and, like, the most perfect man alive, but also —,"

You grind up, chasing friction, his cock sliding just right over your clit. Your breath stutters, hands fisting at the nape of his neck as you try to remember what you were saying.

" — I'm literally at your mercy right now, so you should probably take advantage of that before I —,"

"You talk so much, baby."

And then he shuts you up. Hard.

His mouth rams into yours, ingesting the comment, the breath, everything.

He doesn't rush. 

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance before he finally, slowly, pushes inside.

It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts against his, lips catching on his as a little sigh slips out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, helpless against the way he's opening you up. 

He stills, a sharp, fractured inhale slicing through the air, fingers digging into your hips — hard. He is struggling. You can feel it. The way his cock twitches inside you, like his body is screaming at him to move.

"I-I'm good." Your laugh wobbles, catches at the edges, barely disguising how badly you want him to believe you. "You can keep going."

"You're tensing because it's been a while." You don't mean to, but your body reacts before your brain can tell it not to, stiffening. Stupid, stupid. His exhale is shaky, and his lips press against your cheek. "I know that. I expected that."

You swallow, but it doesn't help.

"I also know that you think if I notice, I'll stop." His forehead rests against yours. "But I need you to hear me, baby. I'm not stopping."

His lips graze yours.

"I'm going to work you through this. Just let me in, princess."

And the second you do, the second you finally give in —

He groans, pushing deeper, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt. 

"There we go," he breathes, wrecked with praise. His hand presses to your lower belly, feeling how deep he is, how well you take him. "That's my good girl."

Your head tilts back, lips parting, body doing the melty thing that feels really, really nice but also really, really dangerous because you swear you're seconds away from levitating straight out of your own skin.

"Okay, so I did think this would feel good —," Your fingers twitch against his chest, nails raking lightly over sweat-damp skin as another sharp moan tumbles free. "— but, um, wow, this is like — this is so —,"

Your words taper off, get lost somewhere between your psyche and your mouth, because oh. Oh, wow. He's so deep, so heavy inside you, pressing into places you didn't even know existed.

"Go on, baby," he murmurs, a smirk plastered across handsome features as he dips his head. "You were saying?"

"You know," you gasp, words all flimsy and loose, like they've been shaken up inside you, "I kinda always wondered how big you were —"

Your breath hooks halfway through, hiccups on a moan, brain scrambling to keep up with your mouth, your mouth scrambling to keep up with — him.

"Not that I, um — I stared at your pants or anything —" Another sharp inhale, another desperate moan, your walls fluctuating and squeezing around something too thick. "I mean, I try not to because I'm a professional —"

An involuntary clench makes him curse, makes his fingers dip into your hips, makes his head plunge forward hard against your shoulder.

"Honey, shit—,"

Your lashes flutter. "What?"

"Sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that while you ramble about my cock, I'm not going to last."

Your mouth clicks shut promptly.

"That's what I thought."

Hotch rocks his hips, just once, a sharp gasp fissuring from your lips like you weren't expecting it. 

"Jesus, sweetheart. You're trembling." He cups your cheek, his thumb skimming over your bottom lip, eyes dark and aflame. "Does it feel that good?"

You nod, and he hums, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in. 

His hand drags down your waist, spans over your belly, fingers pressing like he's charting the way he fits inside you.

"I used to tell myself I wouldn't do this," he admits. "That I wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't ruin you like this."

Your head lolls back, eyes fluttering, lips parted prettily, gasping as he rocks into you again, and again, and again. You shake your head, or at least, you think you do.

"You don't —" You try to shape words, but they liquefy on your tongue. "Don't ruin me, Aaron, you — oh, you make me —"

Hotch's throat bobs, his pupils blown.

"You make me so, so good, so soft, so perfect."

His hand cups your jaw. "You're already all of those things, sweetheart."

"Not before you," you sigh. "I've been waiting so long, Aaron, so, so long —"

"I know, baby," he groans. "I know."

His hand veers between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen, neglected bundle of nerves.

“Aaron — oh, wait, wait, wait —,” Your hands shoot up to his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I can, but it’s just —,”

His cock throbs inside you, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, harder this time, his fingers matching the pace.

“Too much?”

“Yes, no, kind of? I don’t know, I can’t—,” You choke on your own breath as another thrust knocks every last rumination from your head. “I can’t think.”

“Good.” His forehead presses against yours, his lips parting against your mouth, panting, his control slipping. “I don’t want you thinking. Just feel me, sweetheart. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

Your body is shaking, shaking so hard that you don’t even know if you’re moving or if he’s just pushing you through it. 

“I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, body twitching. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises, groaning as he grinds into you, stretching it. “One more, honey. You can give me one more.”

It hits you slowly, unwinding through your organs like smelted honey.

“Oh, oh —,” Your breath falters, mind going blank, the pleasure overwhelming every nerve in your body until you can’t do anything but let it consume you.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling you clench around him so tight it nearly undoes him.

You barely register the way you’re gasping, twitching, babbling out breathless little moans, vision blurring, and for a second you think you might black out.

“That’s it, princess,” he rasps, fucking you through it the reverberations. “So, so good for me.”

His pace turns shallow, sharp, chasing the tight, perfect squeezing of you still thrashing around him.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he grits, hands bruising your hips, your breath still catching from your own orgasm.

You’re too gone to respond, too wrung out to do anything but whimper as he takes you, using your body to pull himself over the edge.

He groans, low and deep, his fingers tangling in your hair, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he finally breaks.

A shudder, a muttered curse, his body jerking, hips slamming into yours as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t mean to collapse, you know that, because even as his body gives out, his arms brace, still trying to be careful, even now. You want to cling to him, lock your legs around his waist, but you barely remember how to move, so you just let out a sleepy sound, nuzzling blindly at his throat. 

He murmurs something low, something that sounds like praise, maybe worship.

His lips press to the side of your face, half-gone and still recovering, and then his muscles tense, trying to lift himself off you.

Your arms wind around his neck before he can get too far. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “Feels nice.”

“You did so good.”

When he finally pulls out, you feel the loss and everything that comes with it, his release sticky and warm beneath your thighs. 

Aaron disappears into the bathroom, and you barely have time to miss him before he’s back with a warm cloth in hand.

You giggle, squirming before he even touches you, already restless, and the second he presses the cloth to your inner thighs, you jerk, laughing helplessly.

“Oh, wait —,”

Aaron sighs, one hand pressing against your hip to keep you still. “Sweetheart. You have to let me clean you up”

“But it tickles—,”

He smirks and continues his work. “How do you feel?”

“Like I saw god actually,” you ramble, kicking your feet against the sheets. “Or, like, like, if I had to describe it, I’d say I transcended reality for a little bit —,”

Aaron just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee as he finishes cleaning you up. Each swipe reminds you that your legs might not be on speaking terms with you tomorrow.

When he’s done his mouth finds yours again. It’s easy to kiss him. If it were physically possible to stay attached to him, twenty-four hours a day, you’d gladly test the theory.

“Worth the wait,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Well, yeah,” you murmur, smirking up at him. “I figured it would be for you.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, baby, you were good,” he mutters, kissing right over your stuttering pulse. “You were so good.” Another kiss. “So good I’m already thinking about the next time.”

Your heart hasn’t even slowed down, and you’re already thinking about the next time. Already plotting, already ready to drag him back down and see just how quickly that next time could turn into right now. But before you can so much as tug at him — Aaron is rolling out of bed, pulling on his pants, disappearing into the kitchen.

You mean to protest, to demand why he left you alone in a post-bliss haze, but then he’s back, pressing a glass of water into your hand, watching you drink it like it’s his personal responsibility.

Then comes food, something light and something he feeds you between kisses, between lazy murmurs about nothing. 

At some point, the blankets are back over you, his lips pressing against your forehead, his voice saying something about getting some sleep before you got any ideas, before pulling you against him.

You hum, content and drowsy, shifting a little, rolling over to get more comfortable —

And then your eyes land on that photo frame from earlier. You had a clear view of it now.

It was you.

It takes you a second to place it, but once you do, you almost laugh. You know this photo — because Garcia took it. She printed it out months ago, probably as some ridiculous gag, and stuck it to Aaron’s office wall with a bright sticky note that read your favorite obviously. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, called it workplace favoritism, but he’d never taken it down. 

And now, somehow, it’s framed. On his nightstand, like he’s been looking at you every night for —

You don’t finish the thought.

Instead, you just smile, huge and uncontrollable.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you don’t need him to.

Because you already know.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[h0ttestgrlinm0urgu3]

PORN ☆

Dominic Fike x Reader

porn star reader!

[warnings: smut, p in v, drug usage(both), reader might be a lil brat, like one use of (y/n), 'recording' sex, dom Dominic, degrading but with love, daddy kink]

[modern day Dominic I just want yall to know that.... bc he is so fine 😋]

[not proof read sorry in advance for any mistakes]

-----

To say you were proud of yourself would be an understatement.

you've always known you wanted to be in the entertainment industry, so as soon as you turned eighteen, you started stripping. you worked all the time, never spending the money you made because you lived at home with your mom. you focused on learning, if anything.

learning what men liked to hear so they'll spend money, but mostly learning about yourself. and what did you learn? that you were in love with entertaining, you loved shaking your ass and having people throw money on you, being the center of attention. having eyes on you.

When you turned nineteen, you took all the money you saved up and moved out. still dancing you started exploring more, finally losing your virginity and finding out you loved sex. cumming was literally the best thing you ever experienced.

you decided to start a twitter for fun, just posting videos of you shacking your ass at first.

you built a following over the year when you decided to move to California. you weren't really in the middle of the city, but you were close enough to still get action. you made some friends and on your 20th birthday they took you out to a club, were you had the best idea to start an only fans.

that night when you got home you ran to your bed and opened your laptop made an account and uploaded a video by the next morning. cumming at least three times before you tapped out.

this lead you to where you are now.

you've made a name for yourself in the porn industry while mostly making solo content. sometimes you'll connect with other porn stars and make videos, but you tend to stick to making videos by yourself.

you've completely stopped dancing and live as a full time porn star, even moving to other platforms. you love it.

it wasn't even about the money, honesty you were just a slut. you fucking loved cummming all the time. you loved it even more when you knew people were paying just to get off to you cumming. you especially loved the way people fucked you when the cameras where on.

you just haven't found the person to fuck you the way you needed when they were off, which is why you tend to stick to solo content.

but enough about that lets talk about where you are now.

☆

which is running late as you scramble to get your heels on before searching for the bag you took out for this outfit.

finally done running to grab your keys off of the hook as you walk out the door. as you lock it your phone rings making you groan. 'hello' you breath out walking to your car. 'don't hello me where are you' your friend Dominic asks.

you and Dominic's relationship was special to say the least. you guys meet through Instagram about a year ago. he was heavily active in your comment section before moving to your dm's. he was cute so you entertained it. you guys hit it off quite well and became friends quickly moving to irl .

you've been cool ever since and your currently heading to one of his shows as we speak.

'im heading out the door right now' you answer locking your front door. 'you gonna be here in time?' he questions making you chuckle as you sit, getting comfortable and buckling, letting your phone connect to your car. 'yes I am, I'll be speeding so you'll see me earlier.' you reply as you back out of your driveway.

☆

speed walking to his dressing room not knocking as usual you see Dominic at his mirror smoking a blunt, he looks over to you. 'so I wasn't here earlier' you laugh as you put your bag down giving him a hug while he sat. 'at least you haven't gone on yet' you say giving him a kiss on the cheek taking the blunt from his hand before going to sit on his couch 'you good baby' he said.

re lighting his blunt, takin a pull 'stop calling me baby Dominic' you tell him. tilting his head as he smiled 'you really gon keep playing wit me-' he questioned just before someone knocked on the door, letting him know he needed to go on.

letting out a laugh before telling you ''you better pay attention to his performance'' before he left.

☆

after his concert yall went back to your place to roll up and chill. your in your pajamas sitting on the love seat that's on your porch. taking the blunt from his fingers as he handed it to you. 'when you think you making another video wit someone?' he asked sitting across from you. taking a hit of the blunt and inhaling before answering 'I don't know I gotta find someone to film with' talking another hit of the blunt before handing it back.

watching his lips as he inhales the smoke, licking his lips after exhales. letting your eye drop to his adams apple as he speaks 'why you keep doing this?' he aks with a smile, bringing your eyes back to his face 'doing what?' you question licking your lips. rising from his chair taking another hit as he walks to stand infront of you.

blowing the smoke into your face before asking 'why won't you fuck me' taking his free hand and tucking your hair behind your ear before gripping your chin and titling your head up. bringing the blunt to your lips as you inhale. you bring your legs down and squeeze your thighs together as you feel your pussy getting wet. 'keep going' he speaks encouraging you to take a big hit before stepping back and putting the blunt out in the ashtray.

your eyes low and slightly teary from the hit you just took you watch him as him moves. following him like a lost puppy as he walks into your house on a mission. 'what are you doing?'you question your a little dazed trying not to focus on your need to cum. like the strongest need youve ever felt, all from a touch and some words.

he walks into your room as you sit on the couch. you can hear him moving around, but you stay put until there's silence. he finally exits your room before speaking 'can I fuck you?' he bluntly asks making your jaw drop. standing in front of you '(y/n) I'm so serious I've wanted to fuck you since I se-' he starts before you cut him off 'yes'.

a beat of silence passes before your in his arms lips on his. one of his hands hosting you up while the other grips your hair. one of yours rests on the back of his neck while the other cupped his face.

grinding your pussy into him to get and friction he makes his way to your bed room.

tossing you onto the bed making you whine at the loss of contact he turns his back to you grabbing something.

'Dominic what ar-' you get cut of by him shushing you as he turned around revealing your camera. 'smile baby' he says. to which you happily comply. you absolutely adored being on camera whether it was posted or not. 'aw look at that the cameras on and the slut is comming out' he says laughing.

'get undressed for the camera' he tells you getting closer as you pull your tank top over your head letting your tits out. squeezing them as you made eye contact with Dominic 'aw that's so pretty baby'. you can feel your pussy dripping as you let go of your tits and sit on your knees pulling your shorts down and off leaving you in your underwear.

Dominic's finally infront lf you getting a good shot of your boobs as he gropes them with his free hand. 'fuck baby you make me so hard' he says moving the camera up to your face. you haven't even been fucked yet and you look like your sex drunk already 'fuck me daddy' you say as you take his hand off your boob and pulling it down to underwear letting him feel just got wet you are.

Dominic lets out a groan and a 'fuck' before taking his hand out and walking into your closet.

he comes back with the tripod and sets up the camera facing your bed.

coming over to you he takes his shirt off throwing it somewhere before stepping out of his jeans you lay on your back raising your legs to take off your underwear Dominic following suit.

he was hard as fuck and he has such a pretty cock. gripping the base as he lazyly strocked his cock looking into your eyes 'how you want me to fuck your first baby?' he asked grinning widely as you let out a whimper.

flipping yourself over to lay on your stomach and pushing your ass up and towards him before looking back 'is this okay?' you questioned...

gripping your ass with one hand looking down at you. he thought you looked so beautiful ass up, one arm stretched gripping the sheet your other lazyly played with your clit as he rand the tip or his dick between your folds.

tapping your hand on your clit with the tip of his dick. 'ask me to fuck you' he demanded.

'fuck me Dominic' you moan out.

stepping back, grabbing the camera. recording you laid out for him before re taking his position.

getting shots of him dragging his fingers through your pussy collecting your juices before turning the camera to face him and sucking you off of his fingers.

facing the camera back to you before he spoke 'put me in you baby' he said making you whimper grasping his cock from under you and guiding him to your entrance desperatly trying you put him in 'so big daddy' you whine.

Dominic puts the camera on his shoulder and pushs your hand out the way. your about to say something he grips the base of his cock and rams into you.

'FUCKKK' you moan out. feeling him so deep in you as you grind your hips back. 'God baby' tossing the camera onto the bed Dominic grabs your arms bring your back to his cheast.

slowly grinding into you 'dom the.. camera' you breath out as he slowly fucks into you. 'what about it?' he questions bringing one hand to your neck. 'it..fuck.' you moan out as he brings his other hand to your clit. 'i-it cant-t see us' you barley get out as he speeds up his thrusting.

'it was never recording' he says before heavily picking up his pace fucking deep into you. reaching places you've never been touched before.

you can hear Dominic's moans and even him whimpering behind you.

'fuckkkkkk' you moan out.

feeling the pressure building in you about to snap 'dom- fuck.. im gonna cum' you manage to whisper as he pounds into you from behind.

ypu doubt he heard you. with how loud the sounds from how hard he's thrusting combined woth the sloshing sound from how wet ypur pussy is. not even to mention Dominic's moaning.

'can I cum in you baby?'he questions picking up his pace. 'yes daddy please' you scream feeling the cord in you snap.

vision going white you come to, hearing Dominic talk.

opening up your eyes you see the camera in his hands.

'we gotta film the next one baby'

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

nsfw.

fem plus size bimbo!reader, wc: (written on the app!)

a/n: uhhh... can't stop thinking about that pool scene where reid just kept talking in between kisses, so here ya go!! :D

You weren't even listening.

Whatever was coming out of his mouth was falling on deaf ears as you stared at his lips moving.

It was something about space? Gravity? Physics something or another? You didn't know, all you knew was that you need his lips on yours, and fast.

"what's so interesting about gravity, is that it's -"

You don't even bother to say anything, just leaning forward to land a sweet peck on his mouth.

He stops for a moment, eyes fluttering shut out of pure instinct before continuing when you separate, "It's by far the weakest force that we know despite -" you peck him again.

This time you purposely hold him against your body longer, both of your hands moving to cup the back of his neck to gently coax him forward.

" I have no idea what you're talking about," You breathe. "But it sounds complicated, " Another kiss. "And that's hot."

Spencer flusters at your words, "W-what?" You grin sweetly, bumping your forehead against his. His large palms cradle your face.

"You're smart, that's hot, and i'm really turned on." You state as though it's obvious.

"Oh."

"Yeah 'oh'," You mimick playfully. "I'm just curious to what you consider more important, facts about gravity or me."

He fumbles for an answer at your teasing, and you can't help the big, cheek splitting smile that fights through your grin.

"I - what? You. You, of course." He answers quickly.

You giggle, pursing your lips. "Oh yeah?"

Spencer gulps, "Yeah."

"Prove it."

[littlelambpatronus]

i believe in hyperfem bimbo reader rights, let girls be ditzy dolls if they want!!

[tojisun]

!! hurt and comfort; simon’s pov (re: bimbo!reader); mentioned johnny; dark simon but only if u squint very hard // work is a continuation of this one ^v^ // bimbo!reader mlist

divider by @/plutism <33

simon noticed how quiet you’ve gotten, demure smiles and puffed out laughs never breaching past the first trickles of giggles. you seemed distracted, eyes glazing over and your fingers pausing from where they were playing with the loose threading of your sweater.

well, technically it was his, but you’ve long stolen it from his bunk and simon truly would rather cut off his arms than ask it back from you.

simon waits, mulling over how to approach you, how to talk to you when you're obviously worried about something, but then you take the first step.

“simmy, why’re you with me…?”

the hesitation in your voice makes him ache, his heart wrenching itself from the cages of his ribs, threatening to smother him with his grief. he parts his lips open, a question on the tip of his tongue — "who made you doubt my love?" — but he holds himself back, choosing instead to take your hand in his.

you look up at the first touch of his fingers along the back of your palm, the pads of his fingers gliding softly, tentatively, before reaching to tangle them with yours. simon's breath hitches at the weak smile that tugs up at your lips, a wet sheen lining the corners of your eyes.

"oh, petal," simon murmurs, pulling your hand up to his lips so he can press a kiss along the ridges of your knuckles. he earns a wet giggle as you shoot him a shy look, surreptitiously holding back your tears, and simon briefly wonders if you can feel your nose twitching because of your aborted sniffles.

"i'm with you 'cause i love you."

he shifts when he says this, giving himself more room to use his other hand — greedily reaching forward to cup your cheek, thumbing the skin just underneath your eye.

"you understand?"

it is a gentle prodding, one that he hopes was able to hide his own hesitance because if you are doubting his love, if you are questioning why he is with you, then-

then.

does that mean he isn't showing it enough?

simon breathes in sharply, his own world caving in, and it is only the hold he has on you that keeps him tethered. his mind runs on overdrive, the what-if's a catalyst to his unstoppable spiral: what does he need to change? how else can he show you his affections? how else can he reassure you? what can chase away your doubts?

simon's fear grows, threatening to creep up from the base of his throat and to spill into the space between you two, but even so, he forces himself to stay steady. to hold onto you just as gently.

he can process this later on his own — confide in mactavish if he needs to — but right now, in this moment, simon needs to comfort you.

to show you that his promises — "yeah, sweetheart. you and me, together forever." — are true. that he will fulfill them.

that-

"yeah," you reply, voice less wobbly but not any less unsure. "i understand and trust you, simmy, i do! it's just that they..."

simon's gait changes, his trained ears picking apart your mumbled words.

'they.'

someone did this. someone had tainted simon's love for you; made you doubt his intentions. worse, someone made you doubt yourself.

"shh," simon coos, pulling away just a bit before finally picking you up from your spot beside him and dropping you gently on his lap.

your arms loosely curl over his shoulders, hips swaying as you make yourself comfortable on top of him. simon's hands find purchase on your ass, not really doing anything salacious, especially not with this atmosphere, but only holding on to ensure that you don't wiggle yourself to the floor on accident.

you're watching him with big doe eyes, looking all parts his princess even when sadness continues to reverberate from you. simon presses forward to rub his nose against your own, startling a squeak from you — a distraction before his careful questioning.

"tell me everythin' from the start, petal," simon whispers. "let me help you, yeah?"

"okay," you sniffle, nodding softly.

and you do: you tell him about noah thompson, the frat boy who couldn't take "no" for an answer and insisted on bothering you even when you told him that you were taken. that you were spoken for. you told him about noah who insisted that the perfect match for you was someone you could be with everyday — "he taunted me, simmy. asked why you're never around." — and, especially, someone younger. you told him about noah who, in his frustration at your continuous rejection, began to steer hatred your way; calling you "dumb" and "stupid" and "easy."

the last one was said in a hiccupped cry and simon was quick to wrap you up in his embrace, tucking you underneath his chin and murmuring promises and reassurances because you are not dumb nor stupid nor fucking easy.

gods. you are such a perfect girl, the sweetest of them all. the kindest. the loveliest.

and noah knows. that is why, shrouded in his jealousy after seeing the token of his affection be so protective of her lover, he said those things to you. but simon doesn't say that. he doesn't craft anything that could make it look like he's making an excuse for noah's disgusting attitude. so instead, he remains quiet as you pick up your words again.

because, finally, simon is presented with the root of your sadness: noah telling you that simon could only ever be with you for your body.

"i told him you couldn't be because if you're only with me for my body then, simmy, you would've left a long time ago! you wouldn't spoil me and mitty," simon almost coos at the new nickname you gave mittens, "and you wouldn't introduce me to your friends! you wouldn't take me out to see the penguins or go to the butterfly gardens with me. and that's just some of the stuff i remember because you do so much for me but he won't listen!"

simon isn't shocked by the sob that ripples from your lungs as you press your face on the crook of his neck, crying out in your frustration. simon's own lips wobble, his previous self-doubt now crushed at having heard you protect him with such ferocity. at having believed in him with such confidence.

he rubs your back with his palms, unwavering in the flow of his praises and comfort. he presses a kiss on the top of your head, then your temple, before planting multiple along your damp face. you try dancing away from his lips with another wet huff before finally collapsing in his arms in your exhaustion.

"i'm sorry for askin', simmy," you mumble. "i know you love me but-"

"s'all right, petal. y've got nothin' to say sorry for," simon replies, tightening his arms around you. "i'm glad that you came to me and asked. i promised you, didn't i? that we'll take things together, as a team?"

"mhmm," you say with a soft nod. "as a team."

"that's right. you and me: a team."

you crash on his lap and simon basks in the quiet seconds before carrying you to the bedroom. he tucks you underneath the sheets, making a mental note that he has to come back and at least wipe your makeup off and, if he takes a while, then wake you up just enough that you can wash your face.

but for now, he has things to do.

fishing his phone out, simon shoots a message to johnny: "find me something on noah thompson."

"how much?" johnny writes back.

"enough that he won't bother petal anymore," simon replies.

a minute rolls by when johnny messages him again, "we've got something." then, "will she know?"

simon hums to himself. "no," he writes back.

johnny doesn't send in any more replies, but simon understands. no more needs to be said, anyway. not when it's about you.

tagging: @ghostsbimbo @kenz-ee @yannauauau @yaebaal @ivymarquis @liwooa @loonalockley @kariiiel @hawsx3 @durkakakayata @littlecellist

[luvbabydoll]

a continuation of this

your lipgloss is smeared across your cheek from where he kissed you too hard, and your mascara’s already running a bit from how good he’s fucking you—but your voice is still soft and airy when you blink up at him and ask:

"wait—does it like... count as cardio even if I’m just layin’ here bein’ pretty?"

simon’s hips stutter against yours, his groan rough and low as it slips against your neck.

“christ, pet. you’re gonna kill me.”

he’s smirking, though. the kind of smirk you feel rather than see, all pressed against your skin like he’s trying to melt into you.

you giggle, all pleased with yourself, hands sliding lazily up his chest like you’re not even aware of the way you’re clenching around him.

“well, i do feel a bit sweaty…”

your fingers tug playfully at his dog tag.

“is that, like, a workout? or just ‘cause you’re so mean to me?”

“mean?” he huffs out a laugh, voice thick and slurred with accent and need. “you’re the one layin’ there like a fuckin’ angel, sayin’ the dumbest little things with my cock in you—’course i’m losin’ my head.”

you blink up at him, lips parting around a whine when he grinds into you a little deeper, slower.

“mmh, i was gonna wear my new pink panties today…”

your voice is dreamy, almost distracted, like it just floated up from wherever your brain’s gone.

simon’s mouth curls against your jaw.

“yeah? why didn’t you?”

“you never let me keep ‘em on anyway…”

you say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, all wide-eyed and bashful-proud, and he groans again, this time downright pained.

“fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

he dips his head and kisses you, deep and filthy, until you’re pawing at his shoulders and whining against his lips.

“if i say please real nice, will you finish inside?”

that’s what breaks him.

his rhythm falters, rough hands sliding under your thighs to push them higher, deeper, his growl all warm and wrecked against your ear.

“you want that, pet? want me to fill you up like a good girl, yeah?”

you nod so fast your head tips back against the pillows, glossy-eyed and gasping, fingers clawing at him like you need him deeper even when he’s already splitting you in half.

“mhm, yeah—makes my brain all floaty…” you sigh, content and fucked dumb.

and simon? he fuckin’ adores you like this. all sweet and soft and brainless. his pretty, spoiled thing.

[dog-bimbo]

toji n his sweet housewife — 18+ only minors dni !

husband!toji 's got a craving for all things sweet and soft and absolutely delicious and that's you, his housewife! the minute you wake up, your find his huge body swallowing your tinier frame, drooling over your night dress as he cups one of your tits—he's safe and sound with his darling and has absolutely nothing to worry about. you sit up, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before you get out of bed and head towards the kitchen. the guy eats like it's his last meal and when it comes to your cooking, he just can't have enough of it. he eventually wakes up from his slumber, frowning a bit because you're already out of bed. the first thing he wants to see when he opens his eyes is you. to him, you were not just a woman who fed him, kept the house clean and the bed warm, you were something more than that. his only goal in life is to see you happy and smiling wide.

husband!toji has a musky scent to him which is even more prominent as he comes closer to you and hugs you from behind—feeling up your soft flesh, leaving sloppy trails of kisses over your collarbone and murmuring a soft "'mornin' sweetheart.", his stubble tickling you all the while. "good morning." all you had to do is look up at him with your eyes filled to the brim with nothing but love and he swears to god that he could melt right there. the two of you have breakfast in peace and as always, he's grateful for how you always make such hearty meals for him. he's aging and that dad bod he seemed to slowly morph into was proof that he's been well and happy for the past few years. gone was the toji who was rough around the edges and a product of his upbringing—he's healing now and it's all because of you.

husband!toji hates leaving you but he's not a bum no more, he's a hardworking man—and everything he does is for you and only you. "here's your lunch, i made your favourite." and as those words slip out of your mouth, he finds it harder and harder to bid you farewell. but he never leaves without a kiss. you stand on your tippy toes, slinging your arms around his big, strong shoulders as you plant a kiss on both of his cheeks, his forehead and finally his lips which leads to a fully blown out make out session before you break the kiss. "'m gonna miss you so fucking much..." he groans as he huffs. at his manual labour job, he chews his co-workers' ears off as he rambles on and on and on about you.

husband!toji doesn't necessarily get tired from all this, it's faaaar more easier than the contract hitman job he did in the past. it's just draining—he plops on the couch as he leans back and you immediately rush towards him—"i missed you so bad, darlin' how was your day?" he groans as his face brightens up a bit. all a man like him needed after a hard day of work was a woman like you—the absolute love of his life. knowing very well that at his core, he's a fragile man who needs some sweet tending.

husband!toji surely has changed his ways in all ways but one—he's still the man who has molded your tight cunt to perfectly fit his horsec0ck and he'll continue to do so with fervour </3 his red, angry tip kisses your cervix, stretching it impossibly as you cry out. "hang in there hun, 'm gonna take goooood care of ya'" his heavy balls slap against your pussy and his thrusts have left the mounds of your ass almost red as he alternates his pace from languid to hasty to best suit your orgasms. he's never been much of a giver with his past lovers but with you, his darling housewife, he'd do anything to see you blissed out with tears running down your eyes, murmuring broken words of praise that adds on to the heady scent of sex and the feeling of your gooey walls milking the jizz out of his c0ck.

[rafeslittlepup]

rafe loves mansplaining real estate to her bimbo girlfriend over lunch at the country club

“okay, so picture this,” rafe says, “we lock in two properties before the end of q3. oceanfront. one’s a teardown, but it’s got good bones.”

you look at him, blinking slowly. freshly glazed nails curl around your iced rosé like it’s a lifeline, the faintest smear of your charlotte tilbury lipstick on the glass.

“teardown sounds sad,” you pout, “like… demolition? that’s loud, rafe.”

rafe stares at you, “baby, that’s not the point, it’s not like we’re doing it.”

“oh! well, yeah,” you giggle looking at your nails. “obviously, ew.”

he sighs, biting into his sandwich. “you didn’t get a single word of what i just said, huh?” rafe laughs despite himself, wiping his fingers on the linen napkin. “you’re so dumb, princess.”

you pout a little, “that’s not true… i’m more into like, aesthetics. i want to have a fashion line one day, rafey.” you said as you play with your kale caesar salad.

“you thought a foreclosure was a type of facial.”

“doesn’t it sound like one?” you shrug, wide-eyed. “like… hydration-based foreclosure peel or something.”

“jesus christ.”

“anyway,” you say, ignoring him completly. “can we go look at the tennis skirts at the pro shop after this? i want one in white, with like, the built-in panties.”

“whatever you want,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face.

“and maybe you can buy me that little goyard bag too? i saw one in butter yellow and it made me think of cupcakes.”

“you are so unserious, princess,” he says, but he’s already pulling his black amex out.

you lean over the table and kiss his cheek, getting lipstick on him like always. “yeah, but you love it.”

he definitely does.

[strawberryscribblesandwrites]

Empty offices and creeky desks

leon kennedy x bimbo reseptionist reader

Smut

Summary : your the new receptionist and you desperately want and need to get dicked down by leon (reader kinda manipulates things I think??) (The apocalypse didn't happen in this au?)

(MINORS DNI) Warnings: reader is a tease , dom leon , oral ( m receiving) , fingering rough/degradation , daddy/sir kink , nipple play?, spit 💀, p in v, public sex? Creampie slightly pussy slappingLet me know if any other warnings I missed and I'm sorry lmao

Not bata read

You remember your first day as receptionist. you were sat at the front desk applying your peach lip gloss in your compact when he walked up to your desk.tall , handsome and muscley you had to stop yourself from drooling but you could tell by the dark look in his eyes he thought you were hot in your short pencil skirt and Button up shirt not fully done up.

"Hi I'm y/n welcome how can I help you today, can i get your name to sign you into the system" you looked at him through your lashes as you spoke.

"Leon kennedy" he spoke his voice rough his eyes raked over your body eyes staying a little to long on your chest.

"Okay Mr Kennedy" you giggled softly as you bit your pen before writing down his name in your book of who had come in and at what time.

"All done" you giggled as he gave you a short nod as you handed him his files for the day.

You had one thought as he walked away you need to desperately get fucked by that man, you had a plan to get him, your gonna dress even more slutty and act even more dumb I mean that usually works.

You stood up from your desk applying more sparkling white eyeshadow to your lids grabbing some more files.

Heels clicked against the floor as you moved to find Leon's desk making sure to look lost and dumb.

Pulling down your skirt wiggling your hips as you did you walked up to leon leaning over to tap his shoulder making sure to bend over more than needed to give him a clear view if your cleavage

"Um excuse me Mr Kennedy" you say innocently despite your intentions

His dark grey eyes looked up to you and trailed down your face to your chest where they stayed.

"Do you know where officer Smith went" you softly battery your eyelashes

Leon gulped his eyes reluctantly moving back to your face as he pointed towards the opposite direction you came

"he went that way" his tone soft with a darker edge creeping in as his eyes glued to your plump lips

You quickly said thanks before walking away swaying your hips setting your plan to get railed by the hot blond officer.

So here you sat tight light pink shirt the buttons straining to keep shut the top buttons undone, a shot black pencil skirt that you had to keep pulling down to cover the top of your stocking working graveyard shift just because you knew he was working.

You took a sip from your iced coffee not doing work like you were supposed to

When you heard the entrance of the rcpd open and close but you were to bored to pay any attention to it until you heard a deep voice clearing their throat

You look up through your eyelashes "Oh hi leon!" You giggled as his eyes slowly raked over you his Adams apple bobbed

"Hey....aren't you supposed to be working" he teases his tone dripping with something dark like molasses

You batter you lashes giving him your best doe eyes "I'm way to pretty to work" you write his name down before standing walking over to your filing cabinet purposeful bending down low knowing your skirt would ride up showing him your black lace panties.

"Fuck" he breathed before clearing his throat feeling his pants tighten at the sight

You stand back up turning to him innocently like you didn't just show him your panties "you okay hon you look flushed" you smiled sweetly handing him his files to work on

He stutterd clearing his throat eyes blown wide with lust "I'm just peachy sweetheart" he roughly said walking towards his desk quickly

You smirked sitting at your desk sipping your coffee watching him walk away your plan is working.

You spent the next hour looking over to a frustrated looking leon trying to work you groan as you stand deciding not to pull your skirt down even as it was basically I micro skirt at this point not caring knowing only you and leon where in the main office

You walk over to him your heels clicking on the marble floor you sway your hips as you tie you hair into a messy pony tail.

"Hi leon!" You say bubbly placing yourself on his desk

"You seem fustrated" you giggled softly leaning forward towards him

"I wonder why" he darkly whisperd eyes dark looking at you like he wanted to eat you hole he rubbed his hand over his face his bicep bulging as he did

"You know exactly what your doing huh?" He groaned pushing your legs apart to scoot himself between your legs.

"What do you mean leon" you faked innocents causing the man to darkly chuckle his hands sliding up your legs causing your chest to quicken

"You know exactly what I mean don't you" he growled his thick ands moving further up your thighs moving closer and closer to you lace coverd clit.

You bit your lip shaking your head quickly

"Oh don't lie now baby don't act like you haven't been dressing like a whore for weeks" he growled his finger grazing over your clit softly.

You gasp closing your eyes

"You like that don't you" he laughed repeating his actions you nodded again causing him to grab your chin forcefully causing you to look at him "use your words baby tell daddy what you want" he spoke in a low growl.

he pushed your panties to the side running his finger from your entrance to your swolen nub, collecting your wetness.

"Fuck! Daddy I love it" you whimpered as he grinned slowly circling your clit causing you to arch into him.

"Look at you"he moaned plunging his ring finger and middle finger into your dripping hole causing you to gasp "daddy!"

"Sh sh baby you don't want anyone to hear you" he darkly smirked now standing as he moved and curled his fingers inside you roughly hitting a spot that made you grab his wrist quickly.

He moved his fingers in and out of your entrance quickly, you gripped his arm whining at the feeling of his thick fingers abusing your gummy walls hitting the same spot over and over putting you on edge as his thumb brushed your clit making you see stars.

You panted letting out a high pitched whine as he pulled his fingers out of you leaving you achingly empty

"Daddy please please" you say bordering on a sob

"Look how wet you are my little slut and I haven't even started" he groaned happily bringing his fingers up to his mouth sucking your slick from his fingers the sight was enough to make you cum .

He pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a pop. He grabbed you jawy roughly opening your mouth you happily complied opening your mouth as he smirked at you and spat in your mouth closing your jaw letting you savour the tastes of yourself and his spit

"Such a dirty girl" he growled bordering on a moan

He grabbed your hips pulling you off his desk causing the wood to groan he pulled you into him by the back of your neck foceing you to kiss him you both panted into the rough kiss before he pulled away whispering

"your gonna suck my dick okay?"

"Yes sir" you happily say pushing him to sit on his desk chair you sank you your knees, you quickly moved unzipping his pants as he's raised his hips letting you pull his boxsers and pants down his thighs.

His dick sprang free hitting his stomach you bit your lip as you looked at his dick it was a pretty shade of pink a thick vain running down the underside up to his tip.

"You okay baby" he asked softly smirking as you seemed mesmerised

You didn't reply instead you moves forward giving him an experimental lick from his base to tip causing him to pant and buck up into the air.

You smirked spitting onto his dick wrapping one of your hands round his base giving a gentle squeeze you leaned forward taking his tip into your mouth

"God fuck" he breathed his hand going to your hair.

You moved your hands slowly on his lengly using your toung to tease his tip pre cum coating your toung his hand in your hair foceing you to take more of him into your mouth, you began to bob your head quickly

"God your such a good little slut taking daddy's cock " he breathed as you sped up taking more and more of him into your mouth foceing down a gag breathing through your nose.

"I'm gonna come if you don't slow down" he whined his stomach muscles twitching as he pulled your hair moving you off his dick with a pop

"Fuck your so good" he said pulling you into a kiss as you both stood he moved your hips back to his creeky desk causing it Goan.

He lay you on his desk ripping open your tight pink shirt causing buttons to fling across the marble floor

He pulled your bra down revealing your boobs

He leaned forward taking your nipple into his mouth grazing it with his teeth

"Ahh aa d-daddy" you stutterd pulling his hair at the feeling of him smirking his lips wrapped round your nipple

He pulled back his chest heaving his eyes raked slowly over you your face flushed bare chest raceing and your legs shaking in anticipation dumb look on your face

"Look at you my dumb little baby"

He pulled your short skirt higher then pulled your black lace panties down your legs stuffing them in his pocket

He stepped back slightly admiring your dripping pussy before he gently slapped your clit causing you to squeel.

"Shhhhh" he darkly laughed leaning down spitting onto your pussy causing you to moan as he used his tip to spread his spit from your clit to your entrance.

"Daddy" you wine

"What do you want baby" he breathed his tip at your entrance

"Fuck me please" you say eyes watering

He smirked quickly bottoming out into you as you both moaned at the feeling.

"Your taking me so well ,so fucking tight" he babbled rocking his hips slowly you both enjoyed the feeling of his dick dragging against your walls deliciously slow

Your unable to speak only gasp and moan as he began to move faster leaning forward kissing and sucking at your tits your unable to think or speak barely able to breath all you know is him the feeling of him stuffing you.

His movements get rough his hands clawing at your hips with bruising strength.

"Fuck fuck look at you gon all dumb on daddy's cock" he laughed cut off by the feeling of your walls squeezing him.

He brought his thumb down slowly circling your clit causing your walls to spasm round him as you loudly moan your body curling up as he continued his fast rough pace as your overstimulated pussy dripped and squelchd as his balls slapped against your ass as his pace got faster and he whined "where do you want it" he said getting close.

"Im me please -daddy d-da-daddy please fill me" you shout not caring if anyone heard you

His balls tighten and his dick twitched as you shouted he moaned kissing your chest.

His cum flood you as he pulled his softening dick out of your twitching overworked cunt

His cum began to leak from your hole dripping down onto his desk he moaned softly sitting in his chair.

"We definitely have to do that again" he huffed admiring the way you leaked onto his desk and work unable to speak.

[minispidey]

yall... old man logan is so hot.

thinking of bimbo!reader x logan howlett... but i'm staying true to my word, will finish up my drafts before anything else.

but god... being his pretty bimbo neighbor...

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

Miguel with a chubby little bimbo.

She has the biggest brown eyes. The sweetest smile. Plump lips and a head full of curls, but a mind full of frills and glitter.

He likes to kiss her skin, enjoying it most when it’s covered in gold dust from the expensive scrubs and lotions she uses. Marveling at the scent and warmth of pretty brown thighs nestled on both sides of his face.

He spoils her rotten and she happily accepts. But she does have to pay it back in ways he sees fit. Including being bent over his lab desk at work.

[goblin-mask]

TMNT x Bimbo Reader Head Cannons

This is my first headcannon ever I hope you enjoy and that I did it correctly! Request:  

 HELLO!! Can I request bimbo reader who has a crush on the turtles??(individually if that ok?) She’s a total airhead and always striving to pls them. It’s super obvious that she’s crushing because she’s follows after them like a puppy and practically grows wings whenever they praise or give her positive reinforcement. They 100% know she wants them but won’t do anything about it till she does. Out of spite or for entertainment… who knows😭 The boys basically forcing reader admit she has a crush on them. 🏃��‍♀️🏃🏾‍♀️🏃🏾‍♀️ (Ps: Mikey’s my fave!🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

All Of Them:

They could tell you had a crush on them the moment you walked into the layer the second time

You brought Leo sharpening stones for his katanas

He had mentioned it only once before and you some how remembered

You memorized the periodic table for Donnie

Even making a stupid song to go with it

You memorized Mikey’s order for his favorite Pizza

You had gotten it wrong so many time you wrote it down and kept it in your wallet

You tried your best to work out with Raph

Lifting weights weren’t your forte 

You were also terrible at hiding it

You went out of your way to touch them

You tripped or choked on air whenever one of them would walk by

You would try to understand the ninja lingo that the brothers shared

Even tried to get on Splinters good side

which he found amusing

Leonardo:

Leo knew you were going to confess to him after he had a bad day

You must have gotten a heads up from April because you bright skincare, and other things he has seen you do when he would visit

You attempted to make it as relaxing as possible but some things weren’t meant to be on Turtles skin

When Leo broke out into a rash you freaked out

You thought he was dying and ran to Donnie for immediate assistance 

Leo had never seen you  cry to this extent before

And yes you cried a lot

Leo had to spend an hour trying to console you and make you realize that he knew you didn’t do it on purpose

Through your sobs he could hear you say

“I just want to do nice things for you *Hic* Because I really like you!”

When you said that he smiled

“Don’t worry baby girl I like you as well.”

He has never seen you flip emotions like you did

One moment you were crying on the floor and the next moment you were in his lap and hugging him like your life depended on it

He made sure to hug you back just as tight to reassure you

“Thank you Leo!”

Leo only places a kiss in your hair

Raphael:

When you confessed to Raph it was completely out of the blue

He was lifting dumbbells when you jumped out and surprised him.

He ended up dropping it on his foot

You immediately tried to help only to hurt him further which he hid to the best of his ability

You just ended up handing him some wrist wrapping tape and a note with his name and a heart on it before bolting out in tears

Raph felt his heart warm when he read it

His favorite part of it was the baby pink lipstick kiss that you put over his name at the beginning

When it was safe to go out he made sure to wear the wraps around his wrists and carry the note with him

“Doll~” He says as he enters your room

He sees you curled on your side under the blankets

He sees you shuffle as if you are trying to sleep

“I know you you are still awake~” 

You turn over and meet his eye

He sits on your bed and pats your back

“Now I need those pretty lips to tell me, can you do that Doll?”

He smirks at your flustered expression

“I like you...”

“I like ya too.”

He then brings you into his lap. 

“Can I get an actual kiss now?”

Donatello:

Donatello could tell you liked him he just didn’t know why

The memorization of the periodic table gave him an unusual feeling

Then you started giving him periodic table pick up lines

He didn’t get it until his brothers pointed it out

Then you started wearing his lab coat to an insane extent

It now had your scent there permanently 

Which he didn’t mind

What happened to make you confess was that he was working on some intense chemicals

He should have known better and told you to waft the smell towards you, but he ultimately forgot

This caused your eyes to water and burn to which he quickly rushed you to the fountain to rinse your eyes out

“For the last time Sweetheart, you aren’t going to go blind.”

“I might as well since I am so blindly in love with you!” you say through blubbers of tears

Donnie sighs as he takes you away from the fountain and looks into your eyes

“I love you too Sweetheart, but you have to believe me when I say the chemical will only cause irritation”

He could have sworn your pupils turned to heart eyes as you jumped in his arms for a hug

Michelangelo - Your Fav

Mikey is a bit of an air head to which is why you both clicked so well in the first place

He was skateboarding in the sewers when he sees you right in front of him

He decided it was high time to teach you how to skate

while skating however he neglected to give you any arm or knee pads

which was his plan so he had an excuse to hold your hands the entire time

which worked until you tripped and fell

You definitely got the princess treatment as he scooped you up in his arms and took you to the layer, leaving his skateboard behind

“I am so sorry Angelcakes I should have held onto you better”

He says as he makes a mess of Donnie’s Lab trying to find some bandages and hydroxide

By the time you are bandaged up you are tired and are just leaning against Mikey

To your surprise he confesses first!

“I know I am always the one to jump the gun on this but I gotta tell ya...”

He pauses for a moment

“You’re a sweet girl and I want to make sure you are okay so maybe if you’d like, you can be my Angelcake permanently?”

You let out a giggle before placing a kiss on his cheek “Of course Mikey!”

[greghousescane]

i am so in love w bimbo!reader 😩😩😩

[sinnerbanshee]

Friendly little tid-bit

I'm a bimbo (and gyaru)

Yes, I'm a guy and use the fem terms, fuck off

So, this means I live for bimbo/gyaru readers

WELLLLL

I fucking read all the fics for those😭

Soooo, give me requests for bimbo/gyaru and I'll write it