#LOOKS AT YOU ALL WITH MY BIG BEAUTIFUL EYES.......... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miniaturesuitgladiator · 3 days ago

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Platonic Yandere Batfamily x

Child Girlscout Reader!!

'In world where you can be anything be kind......'

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 This is part 4!!

'Your beautiful, where did you get your looks from?'

'Thank you! I look just like my mommy.....'

Your cute smile and round eyes had Bruce matching your reaction.

What you said was very true though you did look exactly like your mother.

Well, a smaller version atleast.

You tilt your head up to look at him still holding the purring cat in your arms peacefully.

'Who do you look like?' You ask.

It was a simple ,innocent, question really. One that you probably didn't put much thought in to ask.

Truthfully, it hurt bruce more then you'd expect. He knew that if you had known it would've hurt him you wouldn't have asked.

So ,obviously, doesn't blame you.

Instead he keeps composer and replies with a soft smile.

'I suppose I get my looks from my father.'

Truthfully he didn't really know. After his parents death he tried forgetting what they looked like. It was easier that way.

But he'd have nightmares and their memories never did fade their faces just kind of blurred.

He stopped staring at their pictures and painting in the manor along time ago. He didn't even know if Alfred had ever taken them down. Or if their still hung up in their old room.

'My mama says I have my daddy's smile!'

Your voice drags bruce out of his tournamented thoughts and he's quick to compose himself.

He had seen you smile alot. It was almost like you smiled more then you didn't. But he never really thought you had gotten it from your father. Although your smile doesn't really replicate your mother's.

'Is that so?' Bruce replies with an almost forced smile. Bruce loved the idea of you looking like your mother.

He loved the image that he could paint in his head with it. You could pass as his daughter because you had more traits of your mother then you did of your biological dad.

So bruce could always lie and say you were biologically his. That lie didn't really make much sense to him anyway. Because to him you were already his.

You nod softly looking down at the black cat in your small arms.

Glancing back up Dick's quick to grab your attention.

'There's someone we'd like you to meet..." He says grasping your shoulders gently and leading you to the astonishing living room.

You however don't catch jason nudging bruce towards your mother as she looks out a window admiring the sky.

'Don't mess this one up.' Jason mutters in his ear before following you and Dick to the living room.

Sat on the unnecessary big couch is Cassandra Cain.

Softly letting the cat down on the floor you tug on dicks shirt motioning for him to come closer.

Dick almost smiles at your adorable antics as he hears your next words you whisper in his ears. 'Who is she?'

'Our sister.' Dick declares and jason leans against the wall watching the whole interaction from a distance.

'Oh....' Is all you mutter and for a moment the two oldest Wayne's think your disappointed in that fact until you speak agian.

'She looks really cool.'

'She is.' Tim states like it's a known fact. Dicks flinches at his brother unannounced presence having not heard him step into the room.

'Why don't you go speak to her?' Tim nudges you forward but your quick to run behind them instead.

Peaking your head out like a kitten that doesn't know if she should trust a human.

Cass giggles at your innocent behavior. The boys however look quite bewildered at the thought of you being scared of the only girl in the family.

You tilt your head from behind them watching as Cass giggles at your actions. Maybe she wasn't so scary....?

This time you actually move towards her without being nudged and she offers a soft smile silently begging you to come closer.

She pats the cushion beside her and you hesitatently take a seat.

Cass sends the boys a quick glance silently telling them to leave so she could have some time with you.

Their quick to do as she wishes despite their longing to stay.

'Your very pretty....' You mumble ,eyes cast down, small hands playing with the fabric of the lavish couch.

Cass doesn't speak but hums in delight at your kind words.

The boys had told her you were as sweet as candy ,but she hadn't believed anything but bitterness was reserved in gotham.

Until now.

She pondered for a moment not knowing what to say or do but your timid voice breaks the silence.

'You seem so..... cool.'

Cool? Is that what you thought of her? Is that why you had hesitated to meet her? Because you believed she was cool?

The young vigilantly had never been described as 'cool'. Cold? Yes. Quiet? Definitely.

But cool? Never.

It was a term that was often us as for her brothers not her. Yet, just by the sight of her you had deemed her....cool.

Maybe you were sweet. Like candy that'd rot your teeth ,but she'd gladly let her teeth rot just to have you. And that was made very clear to her in just these small minutes with you.

She didn't utter a word to you and somehow you didn't need her to.

You opened up to her on your own pace ,and she found it quite memorizing how quickly you considered her a friend.

Your smaller hands played with her larger calloused ones like you would with a toy.

But not harsh. No, you were soft. Gentle, as your fingers traced the lines in her palms like she was something to cherished.

'Can I be your friend?' Your quite voice sounds more like a prayer then a question.

It takes Cass atleast three awkward seconds before she's swiftly shaking her head yes. She'd never been asked to be a friend.

Truthfully, she never really cared for it either. But right now she does.

You smile, your naive eyes squinting at the ends. You giggle joyfully as if she'd just handed you a bag of candy.

'I'll be the best friend! I pinky promise!' You bable happily like a person who just won the lottery.

Cass's pinky wraps around your extended one ,carefully sealing the deal. It's safe to say she sees why everyone cherish's your happiness like a gem.

Because in a city full of monster's it seemed you truly were the only angel left.

And she'd gladly keep you safe even if you can't see it ,yet.

While you were being coddled and adored by your new found best friend your mother simply looked out the big windows of the manor.

Bruce's mind raced with ideas of how to approach her without seeming like a creep.

After all she did accuse him of trying to kidnap her daughter and she isn't half wrong.

He couldn't mess this up. He wouldn't ,but your mother was so diffrent then the women he's been with.

She wasn't spoiled or tainted. She wasn't a thief or a killer. She was a nurse.

A simple women with so much heart and love. But it seemed like that was only reserved for you.

That was it! He'd reach her through you!

'She seems happy...' Bruce says and he watches as she slightly flinches at his voice but she hides it well.

Your mother turns looking at you as you play and talk with Cass on the couch. Her eyes softening at the sight.

She hums her voice low and calm. Like the sight of you calmed her. It did.

'She's always happy," You mother comments taking a sip from her cup that's filled with some fancy juice.

'But she does look happier.' She continues calm her heart filled with a feeling of bliss at the view of you so happy.

Bruce smiles a rare sight even for his kids. He nods enjoying the sight of you being so compatible with his kids.

'She loves everyone.' Your mom mumbles her eyes still trained on you having an absolute wonderful time with Cassandra.

'Did she get that from you?' Bruce asks finally coming up with a decent question to strike a conversation.

Your mother smiles and ,agian, its because of the thought of you. She shakes her head her mind replaying the memories of you welcoming any stranger like it was your family.

'No, she inherited that from her father....'

'I see....' Bruce nods hands tight at the thought of you inheriting something that from another man.

'He used to be so.....diffrent back then.' Your mother says now turning her attention back on Bruce.

It was pretty clear what she meant by that but Bruce carries on not wanting the conversation to end.

'Diffrent how?' He voices softly, but your mother still feels distressed at the question.

She still answer's though.

'Happy, like her....'

She doesn't have to gesture to you for Bruce to know who she's talking about.

'What changed?' Bruce ask generally wanting to know. He'd first came to her to get to know you.

Yet, the more he talks with her and each picture she paints with her words ,Bruce finds himself digging bigger whole in his heart.

Big enough to make space for her in it.

'I ask myself that all the time..... One day he just...changed. changed into a man I had to let go.'

Her voice is quiet but it's stable ,something that she came to terms with long ago.

Bruce hums realizing that though she may always love the man she once knew that is not the man he is now.

And maybe he can be that man for her?

She smiles one that looks forced ,almost. Like it's something that's funny but it's not.

'In all of Gotham there's only one person that hopes he wakes up.'

'You?'

'No, I think he hurts more people alive then he would dead,' she pauses then points to you.

'He's that little girls world... She looks at him like he hung the stars.' She sighs almost defeated look I her gaze.

Bruce doesn't like the sound of that at all.

Bruce hums not really having the words to put his thoughts in the air nicely.

'She seems to love you alot too.' He finally says trying to soften the mood.

'She does.... But girls do tend to love their fathers more sometimes....even if their dads are the devil.' Your mother turns looking out the window agian.

But Bruce doesn't miss how she quickly wipes her eyes as a tear escapes. How awful is this man to make her cry?

'I stayed with him four more years before I finally left him.' She admits like something that she's ashamed about.

'What was the final straw?' Bruce doesn't even know if it's his place to ask but his mouth speaks before his mind has time to stop itself.

'When he got to her.' She sighs finally looking to where you are agian. It was pretty clear she prioritized your wellbeing over hers even if she didn't voice it.

It was known.

It strikes Bruce deep not knowing what she meant when it she said he gotten to you.

He had no idea what that man could have done to hurt you but even if he just poked you with his fingers Bruce was livid.

'You must love her alot.' He says trying to diminish his anger and focus on the hurt women infront of him.

'I love her more than anything.' She clarifies like she doesnt want Bruce to mistake it ,but he doubts anyone could.

'She's everything to me.'

'Your a good mother.' He says softly but his words are true. Anyone with two eyes can see just how good of a mother you are.

'She's a good kid. With her...it's easy.' She shrugs.

That may be true but even Bruce knows having a good kid doesn't just automatically make you a good mom like she is.

'You don't give yourself enough credit.' Bruce says and he doesn't miss how she doesn't meet his eyes anymore trying to hide her tears like their scars.

'There's still some things I'm not prepared for.' She says her eyes still on the dark clouds that fills the sky.

'Well a parent can never be prepared for everything-' he wants to add that he's batman and he's still not prepared for half the thing his kid's do but he doesn't.

Because he knows he can't. Even if he wishes he could.

Now if there was one person who'd love your bubbly personality more then Dick it would be Duke.

Because who likes living in a house full of angsty vilganty's? Not many and especially not the happy boy named Duke Thomas!

Cass had taken her eyes off of you for no longer then five seconds before looking back to where you were once seated to see that you were gone?!

Standing up quickly she hastily begins to look around for you!

From the living room to dining room to even the bathrooms that you'd have to walk all the way to the other side of the manor to get to!

She eventually had to get the others to help. Even though she truly didn't want to....

'What do you mean you lost her!' Dick all but shouts before Tim tries to calm him down.

'Don't yell! If her mom thinks we lost her she'll never trust us agian!'

'Do you idiots hear that or am I hallucinating?' Damian asks pointing to the ceiling. Who's room was above the living room? Oh right dukes....

And what was that sound? Blasting music and giggles? Yeah they know exactly where you are.....

Opening the young heros door they see you happily sitting on Dukes lap giggling as he describes what the lyrics of the sounds mean.

Leaving out some parts....to keep your innocent intact of course!

After watching enough and hearing your giggles through the door they finally decode to open it.

Duke immediately turns off the loud music his face blank almost confused to why they look so worried.

'Whats up?'

'Whats up? Whats up! We've been looking for her for five minutes only to find out your having a party.' Dick voices voice cracking from how shocked he is.

'Not to mention your teaching her demonic music ,Thomas.' Damian adds crossing his arms and shaking his head in disapproval.

'Yeah you'd know something about devil music huh ,demon?' Jason quips with a chuckle just to get under the small boys skin.

'First off don't fight infront of her,' Duke says pointing at damian and jason already sensing a fight about to start.

'Second, it's called being cultured. Gotta teach 'em young.' Duke shrug glancing back at your pouting face now unhappy that the music stopped.

'She likes it.' Duke comments smiling at you which brings your smile back.

'I do!' You smile innocently.

'She doesn't even know what the lyrics mean.' Tim utters gesturing at you.

'That's why I'm teaching her.' Duke answers like it's the most common thing in the universe.

Cass quickly goes over to grab your hand sighing as she leads you back to where she had you before one of her brothers ruined her peaceful moments.

'Hey you can't just take her all the time we want to play with her too!' Tim whines dramatically pouting.

Cass complete ignores his request as she continues leading you down the stairs cases.

'Where is my baby?'

'Huh?'

Your mother's eyes quickly dart around the spacious living room and kitchen not being able to see you.

'My baby, where is she?!' She panics not seeing you anywhere?

Bruce could tell the women was definitely about to have a heart attack just from you not being in her sight.

What bruce didn't notice was your mother already thinking of ways to kill this man if she didn't find you within five minutes.

'She's probably with my kids...she's fine.'

'Your kids? The ones that are all practically grown men?!' She says already moving to yell in the man's face.

She couldn't believe how stupid she was! How could she let her baby be alone with strangers!

You being the absolutely ridiculously cute Saint you are saw your mother's distresses state ,and new she was looking for you as you walked down the stairs case.

'I'm here mama! I'm here!' You shout letting go of Cassandra's hand to sprint full speed towards your worried mother.

'Oh my baby...I thought I lost you.' She sighs finally feeling like she can breathe agian as she cups your soft cheeks.

'Nuh uh ,mama, I'm right here!' You giggle as she smiles down at you.

Bruce on the other hand finally realizes that he was about to get murdered by your mother if Cass hadn't brought you back downstairs.

Alfred smiles seeing your mother being so affectionate with you remembering all the times Martha had been like that with Bruce in the past.

It had been along time since a mother's love filled the manors air and Alfred was happy to see how it was finally coming back.

'Dinners ready.' Alfred announces calmly as he gestures to the dining room.

Your mother's sighs at your pouting face because you already know what she's about to say.

'Don't give me that look...we've stayed long enough.'

'Your leaving?' Damian speaks up interrupting your mother's conversation with you.

'It's late we should really get going...' Your mother defends putting a hand on your shoulder ready to lead you out the big manor.

'Wed really like it if you stayed....please?' Dick protest and it was kinda hard to say no to a grown man that was pouting desperately.

Not to mention the other wayne children faces matched their older brother's.

Your mother sighs looking back at you an dshe knows she's lost when she hears your quiet plea.

'Please, mama?'

'Fine...we leave after dinner not a second later.'

All smiles in the manor reach their eyes as they hear her words.

'Well then let's go eat.' The old butler states as you walk over to him grabbing his hand with a smile as he leads you to the beautiful dining room..

Your mother sighs knowing she gave into your cuteness once agian.

'What am I gonna do with you..?' She mutters, watching as you happily skip to the dining room with Alfred, as he matches your skips with long strides.

She rubbed her face, her mind repeatedly saying 'it's just a simple dinner. Get in get out.'

The table was unusually quiet and your mother could tell straight away that this wasn't exactly normal for them as they all fiddled with their hands or their fingers.

Despite their best attempts at seeming normal all eyes did end up falling on you.

You happily spoke and ate not noticing the soft eyes all staring at you lovingly. Your mother did though ,and she was already mentally burying bodies.

You spoke softly your eyes on damian as he told you various facts about animals you didn't know.

And you threw in your two cents when you thought of something you had learned from Wild Krats.

Alfred saw your mother's focused eyes noticing she had caught on to everyone's adoring gaze and she didn't seem to happy about it.

'So you're a nurse correct?' Alfred calm spoken words break everyone put of their deep gaze including you.

'Yep my mommies the best nurse!'

Your mother smiles softly appreciating your kind-hearted words knowing you meant them.

'Yes, I am a nurse.' Your mother clarifies nodding at Alfred.

Alfred smiles at both your mother's profession and your mother-daughter relationship.

'Do you enjoy it?' Jason's ruff voice ask his fork digging into his food as he speaks.

Everyone wanted to ask that was clear by how they all perked up at the question.

The truth was they all new a thing or two about patching themselves up but nothing compared to what a nurse would know.

And they knew nurse helped people. They did too but sometimes they hurt more people then they helped sometimes. A nurse didn't.

A nurse just helped.

You mother takes a moment to think before answering the question.

'I love my job it... it does good.' She shrugs taking a sip of her drink before continuing.

'But it takes alot of time... takes me away from things that I love.' Your mother sighs setting down her cup.

Alfred smiles a rare sight that the Wayne's hardly ever see other then special occasions.

'Being a nurse or really anything in medical attention is a special profession.'

Your mother nods at Alfred kind words enjoying them greatly and appreciating them.

Though your mother barely knew the old man that kept these walls clean. She understood why you talked so highly of him.

The calm silence of dinner was abruptly interrupting by a ringing sound ,but it wasn't a phone.

No, it was your small pinky hello kitty watch that your mother paid about three dollars for.

It was your most prized possession.

As the small watch rang all eyes were on you as you quickly turned it off and ran to your mother's chair in a hurry.

'Mama your phone! Your phone!' You all but scream in a haste as your mother pulls out her phone almost embarrassed at how persistent you are to get her phone.

'Thanks mama!'

Your little legs run as fast as you can to the living room desperately wanting space.

All eyes now turn to your mother silently asking why you had wanted her phone so desperately.

Your mother sighs giving an awkward smile before answering everyone's silent question.

'Her dad calls her every day at this time. That's why she has an alarm set on her phone.'

Soft 'ohs' and hums of understanding reach her ears.

The table goes quiet almost like everyone's in silent agreement to try and hear what your talking about through the walls.

After about three minutes of concentrated silence your mother's voice breaks the silence.

'So I hear your a cop?' She ask her gaze pointed at dick.

He nods an almost shy smile on his face.

'Definitely an honorable profession.' She says her smile warm and dock can't help but smile too.

'What about you?' Your mother's hands tap the table softly but her gaze is on Jason now.

He hated that question. Because he didn't really have a way to respond to it. What was he supposed to say? He lived off of criminals money? No, that wouldn't do.

So he shrugs 'still trying to figure that out.'

Your mother hums soft smile never leaving her lips as she speaks and jason likes that. She isn't judging or looking at him like he's doing something wrong. She looks....understanding.

'You'll figure it out...'

And with how soft her words seemed they sounded...so true.

Maybe he could figure it.

'Ah, and I hear your quiet the genius.' She continues her arms on the table nothing but kind hearted tone in her voice as she looks at Tim.

Now Tim didn't know if you told her that or if she googled him but either way he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to be praised.

'I wouldn't say that I'm a genius...' He shrug trying not to be to cocky.

'I doubt anyone would.' Damian adds with a soft smirk. And while Tim looks annoyed and embarrassed Dick and Jason can't help but snicker..

Bruce however gives them a stern glare which doesn't help much but looking at your. Mother she doesn't look to happy about it so they immediately stop.

Your mother hums her voice carefully and light as she speaks to the youngest wayne.

'You must be Damian.'

'I am.' His voice comes out quiet almost shaky as if her slight glare has him shaken. Now that makes his older brother's want to laugh even more.

'My daughter described you as if you were an angel.' Her voice is tender but there's something behind it.

Like she's disappointed with what she's seeing and that makes Damian feel disappointed in himself.

His heads hung low as she speaks agian. But that disappointment is gone when your mother says her next words.

'You certainly look it. Your absolutely adorable. You must've gotten your looks from your mother.'

She jokes a soft laugh leaves her lips and the other join obviously not goings to miss the chance to diss Bruce.

Bruce laughs himself finding your mother's confidence admirable.

Your mother complements Dukes brightness and Cass for her confidently fiece demeanor.

Slowly the small talk becomes less forced and more familiar.

Like this is how it's supposed to be.

Bruce relivishes in the normalcy and so do the children all while your mother keeps a smile on everyone face.

The once big empty table now feels smaller not with space but with comfort. Like these no gaps missing. Well there is one but you shortly make your way back to the table.

You almost unnoticed by how loud everyone is talking. Cass's the first to see you, your eyes cast down not meeting her gaze. She frowns but decides not to say anything.

You don't sit back on your seat and you don't say anything either.

You just stand there and everyone allows you to thinking maybe you just want to stand.

That is till your mother speaks up noticing how oddly quiet your being.

"You okay, baby?"

You sniffle your eyes still to the ground. Your mother's smile drops and a frown quickly replaces it.

Then everyone sees it. A tear drop. One then two. Then they don't stop.

Your mother's quick to try and comfort you opening her arms to allow you to come to her. But you don't.

No, to her surprise you run right past her.

Her head whips so fast she could've gotten whiplash. Just to see you run straight into Bruce's arms.

Bruce? Bruce!

Everyone's surprised gut Bruce quickly composes himself and sets you in his lap as you cry your little heart out on his chest.

He looks at your mother clearly not knowing what to do. But your mother offers no help. Just as confused as he is but for a totally different reason obviously.

Why would you run to him instead of her?

He awkwardly pats your back and your mother soft voice speaks up.

"What's happened baby...?"

"He doesn't love me mama....."

Your voice is so small and so broken. It hurts everyone how your sobs continue and grow louder.

Your mother sighs your sad small voice breaking her heart. She leans back in her seat.

Everyone's jaw clenched how dare someone break your heart? And this young? Oh, they were gonna pay.

Your mother knows your dad was probably just drunk he probably didn't even mean to call, like he should've.

He probably said something he didn't mean but that doesn't mean anything to your broken heart right now.

Your sad sobs echos throughout the manor cruelly. A reminder of how distressed you truly are.

And despite the other kids efforts; twenty minutes later they still can't bring your glowing smile back.

You cling to bruce like a lifeline, your cries muffled by his expensive shirt that he doesn't mind you ruining with your tears ,and snotty sniffles.

Eventually the kids do give up and just watch as your cries slowly fade. Some watch with curiosity with why you picked Bruce others with jealousy.

Your mother on the other hand watches with neither. She knows exactly why you ran to Bruce and no one else. She understands why you ran to Bruce instead of her.

You wanted something that neither her or the wayne children could give you.

A father's comfort.

Sigh, maybe this would be a bit more difficult then just a simple ,innocent, dinner.

With the dreadful amount of crying you did one would've thought you would've wanted to go home.

But not you!

Somehow you had gotten your mother to stay for a movie. In the manors luxurious house movie theater.

Claiming it would be rude to leave damian on his birthday without watching a movie like you two always did on eachothers birthday.

Normally she would've said no. But she couldn't not when you had just finished crying and she knew that this was your way of trying to forget your father's hurtful words.

So with a sigh she said yes.

Your mother left the movie theater claiming she needed something to drink. Bruce took this opportunity to make the final move everyone was planing.

Securing a date.

What Bruce obviously doesn't know is that you don't try and make moves on a women who's little girl heart just broke.

'What. Did. You. Just. Say.'

Your mother's voice is colder then any blade he's ever been stabbed with and the menacing batman flinches.

He swallows then continues.

'I-I was just wondering if perhaps if you wanted to we could-'

SMACK!

Well, that didn't go to exactly to plan.

And that's pretty cleat with how Bruce's cheek is reddening from the impact of your mother hand.

You mother's glare looks meaner then Clark's when he's angry. Now Bruce knows he really messed up.

But....is it wrong to say he...might enjoy it?

That thought quickly disappears faster then it came with how fast your mother begins cussing him out.

'How fucking dare you! My baby looks up to you! And you just want to get in my fucking pants?!' She takes a pause a short and dramatic cruel pause before she continues.

Hands on her hips and her right palm slightly red from how hard she hit Bruce's face ,but by the look on her face she clearly doesn't regret it.

'I'm not one of your whores you can get a quick fuck out of. And my baby ain't no orphan who needs saving.'

She turns around like the wind itself better fear her fury.

'Fuck you! And your mother-fucking bitch mentality!'

She thinks he got to you just to get to her? Well that's not how it is at all! But Bruce can't say that he wants her just to get you or that'll definitely sound wrong.

So he stands there and watches with a red cheek as your mother pulls you out the manor leaving you no time to whine and complain before your out the door.

The rain is oaking your clothes but you still make a point to wave to everyone watching you through the window.

Your mother's old car drives off like she Dominic Toreto himself and when the cat finally come out their view Jason says the words everyone's been dying to ask.

'What the fuck did you do?'

Bruce sighs hands in his hips copying your mother earlier stance ,but instead of anger fueling his heart it's desire and love.

'Alfred get me the best lawyers in gotham.'

Alfred sighs a knowing look of defeated acceptance in his gaze.

'The adoption one or matrimonial one?'

Obviously Bruce's plan was going to need a bit more.....force.

'Both.'

Thanks for reading!!

Likes ,comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

Note: I do not encourage violence readers mother is just very protective of her baby.

Second note: I don't know why I picked that song in particular it just reminded me of reader and her dad relationship.

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the-shedevil-writes · 2 days ago

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A Night to Remember (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: When Phoenix sets Bob up on a blind date with one of her closest friends, he’s already nervous. So when he finds her to be the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s convinced he’s out of his league. But as the night unfolds, he starts to realize they may work together better than he ever expected. WORD COUNT: 3.7k WARNINGS: Super fluffy. First date/Blind date! Reader is a big nerd- D&D and comics. Nervous Bob. Kissing. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Bob sat with his thigh anxiously bouncing in the booth at The Hard Deck. In a white polo tucked into a pair of black slacks, he held a small bouquet of daisies mixed with a few other light blue flowers. All at the advice of Phoenix, of course, who sat in front of him currently.

“You’re gonna be just fine.” She said, looking down at her phone to check. “I’m telling you, Bob. You’re gonna get along.”

When his pilot had come up to him, saying that she was setting him up, it was like she had experienced a stroke of genius and needed to experiment. She told him that she was setting him up with one of her close friends who had recently moved to San Diego. And that just made him all the more nervous. What if things didn’t work out, and now Phoenix felt awkward bringing her friend around? Or what if things didn’t work out, and now Phoenix felt weird around HIM?

Bob didn’t exactly have the most experience with dating. He took a girl to prom once and went on a date or two after enlisting, but nothing ever came out of it. Next thing he knew, he was 30 and he felt like he was falling behind all his friends who were either getting married or had at the very least a boatload of experience. This blind date felt like walking into a minefield.

“Do I look alright?” He asked with wide eyes

“You look like your usual dorky self.”

Then her phone chimed, and Bob’s head whipped over to it. Phoenix looked and nodded. “She’s here. I’m gonna walk her in then… It’s all up to you, bud.” She tapped the table excitedly as she got up.

“Don’t say that.” Bob groaned, nervous out of his goddamn mind.

As she left and walked out the front doors, he looked down at the flowers that he had gotten. According to Phoenix, she liked blues and pinks. But they didn’t have any pink flowers… He hoped they sufficed. He gently moved some of the flowers with bent stems and fixed the arrangement so nothing was falling out.

After a moment, he looked back up and saw Phoenix open the door for someone. Her. His jaw dropped slightly, and he suddenly understood why Phoenix refused to show pictures. If he had seen pictures, he would’ve believed it was some kind of prank. She was gorgeous. She wore a simple, white dress with a square neckline that fit snugly on her figure. Her hair was down, and it gently blew in the beach breeze, then settled as she walked inside. His eyes traveled down her legs to see the little red heels she wore.

Dear God, what was Phoenix thinking, setting her up with him? His entire face turned pink, and he had to force himself to manually breathe. He watched Phoenix point him out, and his date turned and smiled at him. Bob quickly scrambled to stand at her beautiful smile like he was called to attention. Should he walk to meet her? Should he wait by the table?

But she was already walking towards him.

“Bob?” Her sweet voice called out as she got close enough.

He nodded nervously. “Hi.” His own voice sounded like sandpaper in his head.

She smiled again. “I’m Y/n. Phoenix’s friend.” She looked him up and down with a small smirk, and it made his heart pound in his chest. Was that a good look? Or a bad look?

Bob put his hand out. His internal thoughts screamed at him that a handshake was entirely stupid, but she took it excitedly. Then he remembered what was in his other hand.

“These are for you.” He said with his typical crooked smile, and he held out the flowers.

She gasped and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He silently prayed a thank you to Phoenix. Taking the flowers in her hands, they complemented her perfectly.

“Thank you so much. I’ve never gotten flowers on a first date. That’s so thoughtful.” She said

“Well, Phoenix helped me pick out which ones you might like.” He admitted. It felt like a dumb move to say that, but he kept to his guns. “Wanna- wanna sit down?”

She nodded and looked over at the booth before sitting down. Bob followed to sit across from her. Then he quickly realized-

“Wait! Uh- would you like a drink?” He asked

“Oh. A water would be nice.” She smiled

“Got it.” He nodded before awkwardly scooching back out of the booth.

When he made it to the bar, he was practically hyperventilating. There sat Phoenix, who watched him with a smug smirk. Bob got the attention of Penny first. He didn’t wanna make it seem like an excuse to talk to Phoenix. Maybe he was overthinking all of this.

“Hi. Can I get a water and a Diet Coke? Actually, make that a water and two Diet Cokes. Please.” Bob said. He figured he might as well get her something just in case.

Phoenix’s laugh finally brought his attention to her.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out, Floyd.”

His eyes widened at her. “What were you thinking? My first date in years, and you set me up with a girl I have no chance with?” He asked quietly through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes. “Just. Talk to her. You’ll see.”

Penny slid over the two Cokes and the water glass. He quickly scooped them up and walked back over to the table, looking back at Phoenix nervously.

Y/n looked up at him with eager eyes as he sat back down.

“You like Diet Coke?” She teased him about having two.

He chuckled nervously and slid into the booth again. “I do, but the other one’s for you in case you wanted something other than water.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You’re sweet.”

The words were so simple, yet his face turned a bright shade of pink.

She took a sip of her water, very obviously eyeing him up and down again with a small smile around her straw. After she swallowed, she started:

“So you’re Phoenix’s WSO?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I backseat for her. She’s great. Uh- she tells me that you’re her friend from school?”

“Mhm! We’ve been close friends since elementary school. All through high school, too. But then she enlisted, and I went to college. It’s been nice seeing her again.”

“What did you study?” He asked curiously. The small talk didn’t feel as painful as he had anticipated a blind date would be. She felt easy to talk to.

“Aeronautical Engineering.” She explained, “That’s why I moved here. Got a gig being a mechanic.”

Bob’s heart stopped slightly. She engineered planes- his first and greatest love. And that had to mean she was incredibly smart. Not that that surprised him. She held herself like she was.

“Wow. That’s- that’s awesome. We really owe you guys more appreciation. We get to fly cause you guys do all the math.” He said genuinely.

“I like you, Bob. You don’t gotta say all that.” She joked.

His face blushed harder, and his eyes widened. “No! No- I really mean it. It’s true. I couldn’t do what you do.”

She laughed at his nervousness and leaned forward to push his shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time.” She took another sip of her water and put her elbows on the table. “So, Bob, what do you like to do, other than boss Phoenix around?”

He looked down at his hands with a tight chuckle. He knew he should tell the truth. There would be no point in lying and acting like he was much cooler than he was. The conversation was going so well so far… but he felt like he could screw it up here. He didn’t hit the gym or go partying on the weekends. He spent most of his time alone.

“Well, uh- I come here every Friday with the squadron and that’s pretty fun.” He started to clarify that he wasn’t a complete loner, “I hike sometimes. But honestly, I play a lot of video games. Like… a lot of video games.”

It didn’t feel like a special answer. He didn’t feel interesting in any sense of the word. But he watched as her eyes brightened.

“What games?” She jumped to ask.

“Oh uh-” He couldn’t help his stammering, “I collect a lot of retro stuff. Mostly games for the Atari. Pac-Man, Galaga, that sorta thing. But I also play the usual Call of Duty, Battlefield, Counter Strike…” He felt like he was talking too much. Well, it was more than what he’d usually say on a Friday night with the squadron, at least.

“Oh goodness, I’m so bad at FPSs.” She giggled, shaking her head, “But that’s so cool that you collect all that!”

What. He swallowed and tilted his head, almost confused. She found that… cool?

She continued. “There was one summer where I spent every weekend trying to get myself on the scoreboard of the Frogger machine at the movie theater. Phoenix wanted to kill me.” She chuckled.

“Did you?”

“Third place. Still pisses me off that I couldn’t get higher.” She said lightheartedly.

“We’ll have to play it on mine sometime so you can beat my score.” The words had slipped out so easily. An implication that he wanted to see her again. He blinked, hoping it wasn’t too forward.

But instead of seeming weirded out, she nodded excitedly. “Yes! That’d be so fun.”

Bob smiled and let out a relieved sigh. This was going so much better than he assumed it would. By this point, he figured he’d screw it all up. He cleared his throat.

“What do you like to do besides fixing planes?”

She blushed and looked down at her drink. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“I just told you I spent my weekends playing Pac-Man.”

With a small laugh, she shrugged.

“Well, I’m a bit of a nerd. I collect comics and love superhero movies. I could talk your ear off about them. Also… god this is so dorky.” She started with a bashful smile, “I like playing D&D. So sometimes when there’s a campaign going on, I’ll spend my Saturday night doing that.”

“Like dungeons and dragons?” Bob asked

She nodded. “I know it’s totally nerdy, but it’s so much fun. Have you played?”

He blinked hard and shook his head with a smile. “No, but I’d like to.”

She just… completely and utterly out-nerded him. He looked over at Phoenix at the bar, who nodded at him like ‘I told you so’. This felt too perfect. Too good to be true.

Forty-five minutes later, they were both laughing in the booth. Bob didn’t want to say that he was surprised by how funny she was. But he didn’t expect to be laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes. She was just so unapologetically herself, and that came with witty phrasing and side jokes that punched hard. After their laughter subsided, he looked at her, and it just slipped out:

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

He didn’t want the date to end with just some colas at Hard Deck.

“I’d love to.” She smiled, “Haven’t gotten to see the beach much.”

He nodded and stood up from the table. After he gestured for her to go first, she walked toward the door. They both noticed the raised brow and glare that Phoenix sent their way.

“We’re going for a walk!” Y/n waved excitedly at her.

Phoenix smiled at that, seeming relieved that she wasn’t going home with him. Bob would never. He knew that taking a girl home on the first date was pretty normal these days, and he didn’t judge anybody who did. But his mother raised him to never do that. She’d probably kill him if he ever did. Knowing her, he didn’t want to test that.

“Have fun. I’m heading home.” Phoenix said as she signed her bar tab. “I’m trusting her with you, Floyd. If you do anything stupid, remember who’s controlling the jet you’re in tomorrow.”

Bob swallowed and nodded. He wouldn’t dare. But also the threat of Phoenix doing everything in her power to make him vomit in his lap was a genuine one.

“You got it.”

Then they walked out the door.

The night beach breeze hit, and her hair swayed softly. Lit by the warm lights pouring from inside the bar, she looked gorgeous in the night time. He wished that he could photograph her. The light hit her perfectly, and the shadows enhanced her features. His confidence felt strengthened from the success of the earlier conversation/

“You look really pretty tonight.” He choked out. “I-I should’ve said it earlier, but I was so nervous. Still so.”

She froze, looking up at him with an almost shocked expression.

“Thank you.” She said, and for the first time that night, she was the one blushing and not him. It felt good to make her suddenly shy. It reassured him that… maybe she could like him too.

Looking down at the ground, she suddenly reached out her hand. Bob looked at it and his head picked up with a small inhale. Quickly, he wiped his hands on his slacks, hoping they weren’t too sweaty. He walked forward and took her hand in his. His hand dwarfed hers just ever so slightly.

Fingers intertwined, they walked towards the beach. Suddenly, he was hyperaware of every function in his body. How sweaty his hands were. How his heart was thrumming in his chest. How his breath kept getting stuck in his lungs. And he was also very well aware of how her hand felt in his. There were small callouses that matched his- no doubt both from their lines of work.

When they reached the sand, he stepped forward in his dress shoes. But when Y/n stepped forward, her heels sank into the sand with a little ‘Oh!’ She wobbled unsteadily, and Bob quickly grabbed onto her waist to steady her. After she gained her balance again, she looked up at him. His arm was wrapped around her, and they both took in each other’s shocked faces. Until she started to laugh, and he joined softly with her.

“We can stick to the sidewalk.” He said, “I don’t wanna get your nice shoes all sandy.”

He gently moved them back to the sidewalk. She giggled and kicked her feet, letting sand pour out from her shoes.

“It’s a little too late for that.”

His eyes widened, looking down at her red heels that were now covered in an opaque sheen of dust. “I’m sorry-”

“No, no! It wasn’t your fault.” She laughed, “Come on, I’ve barely seen the beach yet.”

The starry night sky blanketed them as they started walking again, hand in hand. He tried to look around and not stare holes into her, but he also wanted little glimpses of her every now and then. The soothing rush of the ocean waves nearby hushed over them. The night was peaceful as they were the only two people on the beach. It felt like they could be the only two people in the world.

“Some weekends, the squadron all comes here, and we’ll spend the whole day just playing football.” Bob said softly, “Phoenix is really good.”

“That sounds so fun.” She said, “There aren’t exactly beaches back in Alabama. So it’s strange to be so close. Like on the drive to work, the ocean is just there.”

“It’s nice. It’s really nice.”

There was a gentle silence, and Bob wanted to keep talking, but then he couldn’t figure out how to continue the conversation. Luckily, the tension didn’t feel awkward. It just felt… different.

They walked near one of the small cliffs, and she looked to him with a thrilling look in her eyes. “Wanna go up?”

Bob nodded, “I think there are stairs. ”

Making their way around the other side, sure enough, there were wooden stairs embedded into the side of the small mountain. She climbed up first, and Bob drifted his eyes away to make sure he wasn’t looking up her dress.

Once they got to the top, the breeze was slightly stronger. And she turned back to face him as he made his way up, her hair blowing with a small smile. After a brief heart attack for Bob, she looked away and looked out to the ocean.

“It’s so pretty.”

He nodded and joined her at her side. “You should see it in the day. Or even better, in a jet. It’s great. You can see the whole stretch of beach, and the ocean goes so far back. It’s insane.”

She smiled. “Is it fun? Being able to fly?”

“Wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t.” He answered with his hands in his back pockets, taking in the view. “Though there’s the downsides. Like possibly dying.”

“You better not.” She lightly threatened with a raised brow. “I’d like another date.”

Bob’s head whipped over to look at her. Sure, he had mentioned playing Frogger earlier, but now she was initiating the idea of another date.

She giggled at his reaction and shook her head as she looked back out at the view.

“What? Are you surprised? Didn’t think this date was going badly… but if you think so-” She teased

“NO!” He practically leaped forward to hold her hand again. “No.”

She laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully again. “You’re cute.”

“I think this date is going great. Better than I thought. NOT THAT I THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA BE BAD JUST-” Bob stammered.

Her little teases had him completely flustered and off his game. And with her looking at him expectantly with a raised brow, he couldn’t help the nervous laughter that escaped him.

“I was scared that I was gonna mess everything up. If I’m not doing that right now.” He explained.

She took his hand and moved it to her waist, stepping closer.

“You’re doing just fine.” She reassured, looking up at him and putting her arms on his shoulders. “You should know that…” She leaned into his ear, “I was nervous, too.”

“No way.” He scoffed, naturally wrapping his arms around her waist now.

She nodded. “Uh huh! Phoenix showed me your photo, and I thought you were so cute.”

He looked away, unbelieving. A perfect girl like her being nervous around… Bob Floyd? That felt simply impossible. But when he turned back to face her, she was looking up at him in a way that was almost… antsy. She took a deep breath, and her eyes had an anxious glint in them.

Her hair blew in her face, but before she could fix it herself, Bob took his hand off her waist and gently brushed her hair behind her ear. Now he could properly see her pretty face, and he didn’t want to stop.

“Phoenix didn’t even show me a photo…” He admitted, “I think she thought that if I saw how… beautiful you are, I’d be too scared to do this.”

“Still scared?” She asked, coming a little closer.

He chuckled breathlessly, “Terrified.”

They both laughed, and it just happened naturally. Their faces leaned in closer to each other. She moved one of her hands from his neck to cup his cheek and pressed her lips to his. He sighed, completely relieved. It felt like if he didn’t keep himself in check, his legs would give out. He deeply inhaled her vanilla perfume, and she tasted like the Coca-Cola from earlier. The kiss deepened, and he pulled her as close as he could without completely squeezing her. When he felt her nails travel up the back of his head, he was done for.

She pulled back softly, and he looked down at her.

“Jesus Christ-” He murmured breathlessly.

Now that made her laugh. She leaned in again, and right before his lips, she said

“You’re telling me.”

They kissed again, and Bob wished he could do this forever.

They stayed out much later than they should’ve. Just walking, looking at the beach, talking, and of course, kissing each other every chance they got. A little past midnight, Bob walked her to her car. A small white sedan that was still parked at The Hard Deck.

“You okay to drive? It’s late.” He offered, standing by her door.

She nodded. “I’ll be okay. I know you gotta get up soon.”

There was a small silence, then she added.

“I’d love to do this again.” She said softly. A tilt of hope in her voice.

Bob smiled. “Me too… Phoenix gave me your number. We can schedule a day to play Frogger.” He had never found it so easy to talk to someone before.

“That’d be great. I’ll see you then.” She said.

He opened the driver's door for her, and that brought a smile to her face. She walked up to him and kissed his cheek before getting in.

Smack happy, he shut the door for her and waved her goodbye. As she drove off, he slowly trailed his way to his truck. He flipped the keys in his hand with a goofy smile on his face. It was like a high he’d never experienced before. The most beautiful, smart, and fun girl he’d ever met… wanted to do this again sometime.

He couldn’t help but punch the air with a dorky ‘Yes!’ once her car disappeared. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket to see a notification from Phoenix.

PHOENIX: So how’d it go?

Unlocking his truck, he texted back.

BOB: Holy. Shit. I owe you for life.

PHOENIX: I told you, dumbass.

Once he got in the truck and shut the door, he opened his phone again. He found the number that Phoenix had sent him earlier and sent a text.

BOB: This is Bob Floyd- Text me when you get home safe. Had a great time tonight.

He was practically vibrating in his seat as he turned his phone off and started to drive home. His thigh bounced in his seat again. But instead of anxiety, it was out of sheer adrenaline.

His phone burned in his pocket. But he’d later see the message

Y/N: Home safe. Thanks for the best date I’ve ever been on.

And he’d be too wired to go to sleep.

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #top gun #lewis pullman #lewis pullman fic #bob floyd #robert floyd fic #robert floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fanfic #top gun x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you

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excusemyobsessions · 3 days ago

Note

This has been roaming in my head for way too long.

So we all know The LaDs men are hella big, right?

What if it cant fit in (some) reader/s mouth s they end up choking a bit or needing to only go through it halfway bcs their gag reflexes arent reflexing so now we feel bad 😔 💔

Well, my dearest, you got my mind racing with this one 🙈

Here are my thoughts about this:

(Explicit sexual content below)

Zayne

Zayne doesn't like you straining yourself. Yes, he's okay stretching out your sweet little hole but when you want to take him whole in your mouth, he's very careful.

He'll tuck your hair behind your ear, push it away from your pretty face.

And his hand is a heavy, guiding weight on the nape of your neck. When you start going too far and start choking around his length, he'll pull you back by the back of your neck.

"Honey, slow down. You're going to bruise your throat."

But you just want to make him feel good :(

"You already do. And your hands are enough," he assures you.

When you're being very very stubborn, he'll pull you off his cock and kiss the air out of your lungs.

"Slowly," he'll tell you, in a deep, firm voice.

Rafayel

Okay but hear me out.

Rafayel but in heat. Merman form. And he's got two. Yes, of course, two.

And obviously you want both in your mouth.

But they're big and they're two and you can barely fit one, of course your can't fit two.

So, you're so whiny because you want both in your mouth :(

And he's so beautiful, so flustered, ears bright red, breathing labored. He does these delicious hip rolls when you stroke him. Gorgeous tail hanging off the side of the bathtub.

"Please, princess, it's okay, don't pout like that."

"Please, just your hand is okay... please, baby..."

And of course you wrap your hands around both his cocks, and take turns sucking on both heads like a lollipop. Until he's moaning out your name, with his head thrown back, covering your hands and face with his cum.

Sylus

Sylus...

This man would train you to take him.

Very slow and patiently, full of sweet, loving praises.

"Shhh, kitten, it's okay. You're doing great."

He just loves you so much he'll indulge you anytime. Guide you through it.

"Hollow your cheeks a little."

"Hmmm... that's it, sweet thing, you're taking me so well."

If you have long hair, he'll wrap it around his hand, occasionally tug on it if you're being impatient. Short hair gets tugged on too.

And he'll click his tongue.

"Tsk tsk, kitten, you're going too fast."

He'll cup your cheeks with his long fingers.

"I want you to take it nice... and... slow..."

Xavier

A lover who chokes around his length would drive Xavier insane.

Oh, he's not gonna be gentle about it because he loves, loves seeing the tears cling to your lashes, your lips stretched out around his cock.

He loves seeing your efforts.

His hand is always on the top of your head, sometimes gripping your hair. And he holds you down on his cock every now and then. (With consent, of course. If you don't like that, he definitely won't.)

"That's it, princess. Look at how pretty you look, with your mouth around my cock."

He has to hold back so he won't thrust into your throat when you gag. He doesn't want to hurt you, of course. He wants you to feel good too.

He cums in your mouth and you struggle to swallow it all, just like you struggled with his length.

"You're so messy, my starlight. So pretty."

Caleb

Caleb wants your mouth around his cock so bad but he doesn't want you to hurt yourself :(

"Take it slow, pips, you don't have to take it whole."

He'll try so bad to keep his hips still for you.

And he's so full of praises. He pets your hair through it.

"You look so pretty."

"You're taking me so well."

"Your mouth feels so so good."

"I've thought about this before. Yeah, you, with my cock in your mouth. You look even prettier than I imagined."

He catches the tears that fall from your eyes. Thrusts into your mouth only when he's sure he won't hurt you. He's very eager to let you use him, let you suck on his cock like a popsicle but the way you want it.

You swallow him down once and he's done for, cumming down your throat while letting out the prettiest moans.

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coolwyous · 2 days ago

Text

┈─★ #1 𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺

⊹ ࣪ ˖ megan skiendiel loves three things in this world: her amazing brilliant wife, her incredible adorable kids, and the beautiful sport that is ice hockey.

ˎˊ˗ ❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🔓୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ pairing: hockey daddy!megan skiendiel x f!reader

➴ genre + wc: 3.3k, domestic parenting au, all fluff no pain baby!

┈─★ a/n: wrote this in 2 hrs bc i missed our big puppy hockey!megan so bad and this put such a cute fucking vision in my head. can def be read as a standalone but if you're new here, i highly encourage reading the college hockey!au verse this is based in! <3

“babe! baby! jesus christ babe, get in here!”

your mind goes to the worst possible places. your son could be choking, he could be having an allergic reaction, he could be stuck in between a piece of furniture, and your perfect angel of a wife could be having a crisis as she tries to figure out what exactly to do in an emergency.

marriage with megan has been an absolute dream, and you always knew she’d make an incredible parent. protective, calm, kind— basics, sure, but megan does them so easily, you never questioned that a family together would be an absolute dream. however, megan is still megan, and you love her for each part of her, including the parts that panic when things do not go according to plan. that’s where you balance each other out: you keep megan in line when she starts to spiral, and she reminds you of the beauty in the day to day.

in this scenario, you’re in panic-mode, racing into the living room expecting the worst.

you let out a gasp to find not only is there no crisis, no furniture on fire, no natural disaster sweeping up your son and wife, but quite the opposite.

megan is reaching her arms out, crouched down, and your infant son is taking his first steps towards her, his chubby face squished up in the cutest smile you could have ever imagined.

“look at this guy! so sturdy,” megan beams, reaching out ready to catch him should he start to wobble.

you laugh and take a mental picture of the moment. you see a mischievous glint to megan’s eyes as she watches his wobbly little body take another step forward.

“megan, i swear if you even think about—”

“i wasn’t gonna say it!” she throws her hands up innocently.

“he just took his first steps,” you chastise her, knowing her well enough after all your years together. “don’t do this. i didn’t start rambling about universities or classic literature when he first said mama.”

“fine,” megan shakes her head in defeat, focusing back on waving to your son to get him to take a few more steps forward. “fine.”

you smile and turn to go hunt down your phone to document the moment. before you’re fully out of the room, you hear a quiet voice whispering to the baby.

“you’re a tank, dude. you’re gonna make a killer defender. get that core strong and we’ll be on the ice in no time.”

“megan skiendiel,” you warn firmly.

“shit. mommy heard us talking about the no-no word.” megan swoops up your son and uses him like a human shield, knowing you can’t stay mad at your two favorite people in the whole world. “okay, okay. i can wait. i get it.”

“i just want one milestone where you’re not trying to prep him for the nhl, i’m begging,” you laugh, reaching out to kiss her. she grins and kisses you back, scooping up your son to hold him between you two.

you can’t even pretend to be mad. you have the most perfect family in the world, what more could someone want?

“push left, then push right.”

megan makes skating look so easy, impossibly easy as she always has. when the first snowflake of the season fell, you already knew to get the kids’ winter coats ready, knowing megan would force you all into the car and haul you all to the lake ASAP.

“this is hard,” maxie breathes, his lower lip jutting out in frustration.

“guess what?” megan tells him, her voice softening as she realizes the emotions taking over your toddler. “it may be hard, but you can do hard things. and you’ll have me holding your hand all the way through.”

your daughter starts to squirm out of your grasp and eagerly reaches for her other mom. you press a kiss into the beautiful baby’s head and hold onto her, knowing your wife needs all her focus in one place right now.

“push left, push right. don’t be afraid to fall,” she nods confidently as you watch from the snow. “you’ve got this, dude. if i didn’t think you could do it, i wouldn’t be pushing you.”

your heart swells as you see your son’s eyes burn with determination at megan’s encouragement. max does exactly that, and he’s shaky, but making slow paces forward.

megan skates over to you, giving your son some space to figure it out without her over his shoulder. you grin and reach out to kiss her reddened nose, cold to the touch from the chilly falltime air.

“forgot how good of a captain you were,” you compliment, your chest warm and fuzzy seeing how gently but firmly megan builds your son’s confidence. “might want another one just to keep seeing you be that good.”

“another team for me to captain?” megan grins.

you laugh. “no— another kid, loser.”

“oh.” her eyes widen, but that stupid dopey grin only multiplies on her face. “right right right.”

your daughter wiggles once more in your grip and reaches out again. you smile, handing her to megan, who nestles her onto her hip while skating backwards to keep her eyes fixed on your son.

“look, look!” max calls out loudly, beaming with his precious toothless grin as he glides slowly along the ice.

you look up, ready to cheer him on, but your wife has already got you beat, her face lighting up instantly in pure, sincere, beaming pride.

“that’s my boy! that’s my boy!” she cheers.

megan throws your daughter up into the air and swings her legs around her neck to have the toddler sitting on her shoulders, causing the girl to giggle uncontrollably. max, still wobbly, manages to skid along the ice, his confidence increasing with each pace forward he makes without tipping. you smile at your little family.

“baby,” you call out, peeking at the three on the ice from over the pages of your book. “your daughter is about to do a backflip off of the snowbank.”

“josie, sweetie, sit down please,” megan calls out to her, standing with max as the two practice passing a puck back and forth.

“no thank you,” the girl responds simply.

“okay, no, wait,” megan pauses, wrinkling her nose. “no, princess, it doesn’t work like that. daddy’s words are not an option.”

max pauses, watching the whole thing unfold in front of him. he shrugs and drops his stick, putting his hands on his hips as he innocently observes his sister. “auntie dani says sometimes you just gotta send it.”

“okay, no more time at auntie dani’s,” megan grits. you burst out laughing.

“i told you she’d be a terrible influence.”

“i didn’t think she’d try to influence a five year old,” megan groans, grabbing josie to snatch her off the snowbank. the girl pouts and wiggles out of your wife’s grip, taking easily to the ice in her skates.

“babe, you know how daniela is,” you laugh. “you’re the only one to blame if you trusted her to be a good influence. i told you lara is more than happy to watch them.”

“lara has enough on her hands with the twins,” megan shakes her head, giving max a push to help him slide across the ice, sending the boy screaming laughing. “josie is a tornado.”

“so you stick her with the most insane person you know and expect it to go well?” you laugh.

“okay, okay, this is not bag on daddy time,” megan scrunches her nose at you, grabbing josie by her hood as the rambunctious child tries once more to climb the snow and jump. “i thought maybe dani could help me understand how to lay the law down more. you never have any problems with them.”

“the kids listen to me ‘cause i mean what i say,” you laugh, watching as megan increasingly fails to wrangle the two children as they go in opposite directions. “unfortunately, big bad strong hockey daddy folds every time your five-year-old gives you the puppy eyes.”

josie’s little voice cuts in, somehow at the top of the snowbank.

again.

“can you send a picture of me up here to auntie dani? i want her to see me send it!”

megan’s eyes nearly bug out of her head at the sight.

“my perfect sweet wife, will you grab your daughter, please?” she pleads, nervously holding her arms out in case the girl is too quick and jumps anyways.

you shake your head, pointing behind her as max is aimlessly hitting pucks off in random directions on the ice, pucks you know will never be found again.

“actually, my perfect sweet wife who doesn’t listen or learn, i wanted to do a library date. you’re the one who insisted on taking them to the lake. when you know i still can’t skate,” you remind her.

“oh my god,” megan groans, reaching up to snatch josie by the ankle, causing the little girl to giggle uncontrollably as she gets swung through the air and placed gently back down onto the ice. megan picks up her stick and quickly blocks max from hitting his last few pucks, instead redirecting them all easily back into the small bucket they came in. you watch, impressed. megan has been retired for a year now, shortly after josie turned 4, but she’s still good as ever.

“my thoughts exactly,” you laugh.

“remind me of this exact moment next time i suggest doing this again,” megan blinks.

“babe, this happens every time.” you remind her, flipping through another page in your book. “literally every weekend.”

megan, still impossibly strong, grabs both your kids by the back of their jackets, flipping them both around to face the same direction on the ice. the sound of their rumbling giggles makes your heart flip.

“laps, both of you.” she demands, her voice stern (or about as stern as your goofy, ridiculous megan can get.) “now, minions.”

“no,” josie pushes back challengingly.

“oh yeah?” megan bends down, pointing a finger menacingly at your daughter. “why? scared you’ll get left in my dust?”

you laugh, watching as your wife takes off on the ice, your two bumbling children skating along after her in an attempt to catch her. your heart melts at the sight.

even at lara and dani’s encouragement, megan had never seen herself as exactly coaching material. several colleges had tried soliciting her to coach for them after her time in the wnhl, and she had turned down each of them in favor of staying home with the kids while you continued to work. you didn’t mind— between what she had made playing professionally, your current job, and the current time she can dedicate to her family now that she’s done traveling, the trade off is well worth it.

but the perfect way to fill her time was coaching your son’s 7 & under junior hockey league.

“way to take that shot, champ!” your wife cheers as max misses yet another practice shot. “love the confidence, buddy!”

you laugh and hand her the coffee you just picked up for her in the lobby. “you’re being surprisingly patient.”

“no, he’s honestly so, so bad at this, poor guy,” megan lets out a quiet breath, and the both of you laugh. one of the assistant coaches takes over the drills as you two watch the kids from the side. “he’s trying like hell, though.”

“alright, relax coach,” you wrinkle your nose at her playfully.

you both hear a thud against the plexiglass and realize josie, who is supposed to be taking figure skating lessons on the other side of the rink while max’s team practices, is shoulder checking her poor coach into the wall again, much to the woman’s displeasure. you give her a sharp look to cut it out and she instantly straightens up, nodding at you in understanding.

megan gives you a quick look before bursting out into laughter. you know your daughter’s menace-like behavior is nothing to laugh at, but it’s such a sharp contrast to gentle and compliant max, you’re grateful to have such characters for children that keep you and megan on your toes.

“josie’s sick of figure skating, meg” you tell your wife gently, knowing you’re approaching a sensitive topic for her. “she’s been stealing his sticks and messing with his goal in the backyard. i know you’ve seen her.”

megan lets out a nervous sigh. “i was afraid that’d happen.”

when max happened, you saw it be so easy for megan, like being a boy dad was the most thing in the world. she had all the answers, no fears, no concerns. but as much as she loves both your children equally, you know for a fact that josie was different. megan was so, so much more nervous with raising a girl, and while you didn’t feel the same pressure, you knew it kept megan up at night wanting to make sure she did everything just right for your guys’ little princess.

“she wants to be just like you, meg,” you tell her gently as you both watch the girl roll her eyes at the coach and do another twirl. “she pays attention, talks about your teams, wants to watch your old games. she’s so eager to be part of that world, and you keep brushing her off.”

megan shakes her head, clearly wanting to pivot away from the topic. “mrs. baker called again today. she’s worried about her reading.”

you sigh. mrs. baker, josie’s kindergarten teacher.

“i remember how the first meeting went, megan. i was there, remember?” you laugh, rubbing her arm soothingly. “josie’s still got time to figure it out before they go on diagnosing anything. she’s barely 5. give her time. you sound more worried than her teacher did.”

megan’s knits her brows, avoiding your gaze as she watches both kids on the ice.

“i don’t want her to distract herself with hockey if she’s already at risk of falling behind in school.”

“meg,” you soften your voice, leaning you weight against hers. “it’ll be okay. let her try, we can support her. she won’t fall behind.”

“i don’t want her to beat herself up.” her voice drops into a rasp as you see her swallow down nervously. “i don’t want her to feel stupid.”

your heart aches thinking about baby megan, all those years beating herself up over struggles that were never her fault. you see how anxiously she projects forward, wanting so desperately to spare your guys’ daughter from the same fate, the same self-consciousness, the same lack of confidence.

“she won’t. give her a chance. she might thrive,” you reassure her. “having something she’s that passionate about might make her motivated to work harder.”

megan nods, pressing a kiss into your head. you feel her body relax against yours as you two lean together, watching the practices go on. “you’re right. i’m overthinking it.”

“she might be the next you,” you smile.

before you can say anything else, megan is motioning for the figure skating coach to pause, waving for your daughter to come over to where you guys are standing.

“max, come here,” she calls out, leaning down on the wall to be eye-to-eye with your kids as they both skate over, their eyes wide in confusion. “josie, go borrow your brother’s gear.”

“are you benching me?” maxie asks anxiously.

“would you rather go get a new book and hot cocoa with your mom?” megan asks, her voice soft, her eyes scanning over your son’s face as she chooses her words carefully. “would you rather not come back to practice?”

“i like hockey,” max says quickly, almost too quickly. your heart aches. you see megan in him too— nervous, kind-hearted, eager to be good, not wanting to hurt anyone.

“but do you love it?” megan pries gently, taking one of his hands in hers to comfort him.

“i would rather be reading, yeah,” max admits, his gaze dropping to the floor.

megan is quick to take his chin gently in her fingers and lift his gaze back up to hers. “hey, hey, that’s okay. were you afraid to hurt my feelings by telling me that?”

“yes,” he admits sheepishly.

“thank you for being kind, but thank you even more for being brave and telling me the truth,” she pulls his helmet off of his head and presses a kiss into the top of his sweaty hair. “go with your mom. i love you so, so much. you’re the coolest kid.”

the boy complies, coming off the ice and taking off his gear, handing each piece to his younger sister. “i was scared you’d be mad at me.”

you see megan’s face wrinkle in concern. she shakes her head, reaching down to give the little boy a tight, comforting hug.

“never ever. i love you with my whole heart. i can’t wait to buy you all the books in the world, dude,” she reassures him, nodding. “go give your sister your gear. your mom is waiting.”

you smile and reach out to your son, handing him his hoodie. he swipes it up eagerly and takes your hand, beaming excitedly.

“i heard you’ve been practicing on your own,” megan says as she kneels down, focusing now on helping josie put on all the gear. it’s a size too big, but it’ll do. “you ready to show me what you can do?”

“really?” josie’s eyes light up.

“these boys are bigger than you are,” megan warns, but she doesn’t sound worried. she sounds eager, proud. “think you can keep up?”

“yes,” the girl nods eagerly.

“go show off,” she encourages, giving josie a push on the ice to send her towards the practice. “but no backflips! you’ll give me a heart attack.”

“boring,” she gripes, skating off.

you can’t help but laugh.

“she’s going to kill me,” megan groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.

you poke her in the cheek, letting max rest on the bench for a moment.

“she’s karma for every single time you lashed out at one of your teammates. remember senior year?”

“yeah. alright, alright,” megan waves you off, rolling her eyes, but she pulls you in to give you a quick peck. you both watch as she boldly joins the drill as if she’s been doing it for years, quickly handling the stick and the puck with a confidence unmatched by most of the boys on the team.

“she’s a natural,” you beam proudly.

megan lets out a low whistle. “better than i was my first time on the ice.”

“i’ve always said she’s just a less anxious version of you,” you smile. “right down to the puppy dog eyes.”

megan grins back, wrapping an arm around your waist. “you love these puppy dog eyes.”

you look into those puppy dog eyes, the things that drew you in when you first met her, and the things you’re pretty sure were the first part of megan that you fell in love with, before the rest of her fell right into place inside your heart.

“being just like you won’t be the worst thing in the world, meg,” you tell her gently, you both watching as josie blasts past the other boys on the ice, handling the puck with unimaginable expertise.

“at least college is paid for,” megan wrinkles her nose, letting out a sigh. “who knows. maybe some sucker will get roped into giving her their english class notes.”

“and then they fall in love with each other and become college sweethearts. and survive long distance, and get married. and have a super cute family with two kids and a crusty white dog,” you add on, wrapping your arms around her waist to pull her into a hug.

“i got super lucky,” megan breathes, finally turning to look down at you.

“yes you did,” you grin back up at her.

“i love you,” she tells you, kissing your forehead tenderly.

you admire her perfect face, looking back at your perfect daughter and your perfect son. your perfect little family, something you could have never pictured when you first met megan in your british literature class all those years ago.

you smile, reaching up for one more kiss.

“ditto.”

#☆ﾟ coolwyous ditto.#☆ﾟ dittoverse thoughts.#megan katseye #megan x reader #megan skiendiel x reader #katseye x reader #katseye #katseye megan

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dmitriene · 19 hours ago

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Maybe something with poor birdie having an anorgasmia (unable to cum or it taking a long time) and price (or whoever you want to write for) trying to fix it

i apologize it took me so long to finally write, but i do hope you'll see this and enjoy!

cw: anorgasmia, some stress and mentions of unhealthy relationships, john doesn't cures reader but they find a way to work, sex and comfort, strangers to lovers or something similar, my knowledge of the disorder comes from internet.

any disorder can make a person feel different, broken, wrong — not like everyone else, not as expected, and even if it is a trifle that can be cured, worked out, or just needs more effort, it will still make many people treat you with a kind of hostility, consider you as if you were an object of study under a microscope, and you are no exception.

anorgasmia shouldn't have been the problem that it really turned out to be, because there's nothing unusual or really terrible about having difficulty having an orgasm, you need a little more time, a little more attention, understanding, because the pleasure of sex doesn't go away, it's just that your body's reaction is slightly different.

or so you thought, but all your relationships collapsed like sand towers, washed away by the tide as soon as you failed to give your partner the expected reaction, sobbing moans, rolling, wet eyes and shaking from the spasms of a strong orgasm thighs, no, with most of them it either did not exist, or it was not so expectedly grandiose, a small splash, a little trembling all over the body, then silence and a dissatisfied grimace on the face, looming over you in anticipation.

dysfunctional, they spat bile and animalistic hisses, as if it was kind of an insult to them, although you never threw it on them, you know it's just your problem, let them know, looking at the sparkling eyes and proudly puffing chest — when they said that you slept with the wrong people, that they will definitely be able to make you drown in your climax and unearthly pleasure, but in the end, everything is the same.

you didn't let it parasitize your mental health, but you stopped looking for sex and turned away any attempts to start a relationship, preferring to therapy and numerous consultations, learning different techniques of self stimulation, erotic media and countless sex toys, and little by little, it became easier, but still, you were different, your pleasure more imperceptible, easy flowing, a short flicker, until you met john at another boredom night.

johathan price, as he introduced himself, is a charming man — a type that is found in romcoms, easy going, charming, a man big and strong, adorned with his age in the form of gray hair the color of cigarette ashes, neat beard and a mustache, deep wrinkles in the corners of his purest blue eyes, softness in the once steel strong muscles, which are now protected by a small weight, smoky laughter, scars on his arms and body that speak of the years spent on the battlefield, and yet he lost neither his beauty nor his sanity.

a natural, he communicates with a special ease that attracts the attention of everyone around him, as if a charm has been unleashed in the room, tactile, and his physical contact most likely confused more than one innocent young lamb, and you are no exception, not in front of him, not when he has already managed to see all your innermost secrets, seep through locked doors and rusty keyholes, undressing you layer by layer, sweet speech, warm drinks, a heavy and warm hand on your knee until you give in.

you promised, but john's kisses are as tart as whiskey and cigars, sweeter than honey and candies that burn the palate, his touches are deep, digging nails and fingers into the softness of the flesh, and at the same time stroking along all the curves, softening, he smells of something woody sea, tickling the nose and neck, where his beard scratches sensitively, chasing the kisses and bites, blossoming flowers of hickeys left behind, making you arch towards him pliantly, cling to his broad shoulders and strong forearms.

john lays you out in front of him more easily than poker cards, puts you back together easier than tetris, looks at a naked, vulnerable body with an undisguised, smoldering desire and a clear plan, not allowing himself a drop of pleasure until he satisfies you in the first place, no matter how hurting his cock looks, swollen and blazing rudy, beading pearls of leaking precum, heavy between his hairy legs, bracketing yours, as if to cage.

even when you pull at his hair, sighing languidly and moaning softly — telling him that it will take too long, it's not worth it, his growl shuts you up with a shudder of your spine, his calloused fingers running through the sopping mess of your cunt, stroking the folds, slippery and wet, fluttering at the touch along with the clench of your hole, needy and pulsating, eager for his hands and mouth as he get's to his work.

slick smeared all the way up to your labia, glistening all over your flesh, your thighs, as john's thumb runs up your sex in wonder, assessing, staining sticky and salty, savoring your tiny reactions, little twitches, shudders, sensitive keens from above, relaxing you to the point where you slip along the edges of your bubble, hazy and malleable, and only then he gives your cunt his mouth.

licking hungrily up the seam of your cunt, the savory taste coating his tongue right away, pulling a thundering groan, as he laves over, sucking at the hardened little nub he bumps into, slurping in his hot, drooling mouth, as your slick starts matting his messed beard, while you throb beneath his swelling lips, making him alternate between sucking and lapping up what slick gushes from you in shining rivulets, your body brimming with need, pleasure rolling in, arousal so sudden and strong your blood feels thick with it.

it's comes harder, this time, maybe because you denied yourself a person's sexual contact for too long, but this time, you cum with your legs clamping tight from being unable to fight this electricity, zapping through your whole body as you flood john's mouth with your slick, your back bowing, crumpling the sheets below as you almost hit your head against the headboard, his warm palm settling over the top, shielding, as you hiccup a chorus of moans, under the rasping coo of his voice, no note of being full of himself, cocky, just sweet encouragement of you.

only then, when sure that you've been at the throes of your pleasure, john acknowledges the bobbing weight of his painfully engorged, hard cock, wrapping a calloused palm around the length, slicked from the amount of pre his skin is coated in, jerking once, twice, thumbing against his slit with a huffed grunt of pleasure, before lining towards your gaping hole, the messy curls of his pubic hair brushing against your tingling, now sensitive skin, as you stretch around the girth of him, feeded gently till he's bottoming out.

mind still sluggish with lust, you push your his hips down, trying to take more, to make the deliciously slow thrusts turn into something more, rougher, as your blood sings for it, so john pulls back, lifts your hips, grip more bruising, and blessedly pumps you deep, crowding, cocooning you with his big, brawny body, snapping his broad hips harder and harder, the force echoing as a slaps of skin on skin, the wet squelches, the once again growing pressure inside your stomach is immaculate, heavy.

bodies flush together, john rocks gently into your tight heat, trying to prolong this pleasure, feeling, how you get closer again, so much quicker than any usual, the feeling of it overwhelming you, making your body trash, head hitting the pillows beneath, but he's heavy over your body, and it's comforts you, in a way, as chapped lips kiss your shoulder, and then he nuzzles against your temple.

breathing you in, smearing away your sweat, as you tremble with the need to cum, gasping for it, rocking, clenching with a shuddering twitch of your hips, sensitive and primed for another orgasm, and when your head rolls back with an arch of your kiss bitten neck, white hot pleasure blurring your vision, your every muscle tenses and then you come again, erupting in what feels like a torrent, and john whispers only lulling comfort and proud syllables, groaning deep as he cums himself, shuddering with you.

you're left feeling spent, muscles going lax, sagging into the mattress and crumpled bedding below, it's like your mind gotten into submission, too knocked out by onslaught of all the feelings that your system shut down, and you won't even move to rise up, john's breath coming up close, hard and puffing, as he kisses the marks over your throat as you recover, white spots still dotting the vision, legs unresponsive, so you just curl, and he drags his mouth over your warm skin, each kiss as a reward.

he won't say too much, wouldn't even bring what happened during sex, he has no permission to, no control over your body, it's only your merit that you trusted, relaxed, let the pleasure slip through your fingertips and climb higher, even if slowly, john just happened to be there at the right time, and he won't oblige you to anything, as you slowly fall asleep in his arms — but if you'll linger in the morning instead of disappearing away, he won't mind cooking you breakfast.

main masterlist. quidelines.

#𐔌 . 𝘫𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 .ᐟ #john price smut #john price x female reader #john price fluff #john price x f!reader #john price comfort #john price x reader #captain john price fluff #captain john price x reader #captain john price smut #captain john price x female reader #john price drabble #captain john price x you #captain price smut #john price x you #captain john price fanfic #john price cod

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silkensago · 3 days ago

Text

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ jason todd x fem reader. fluff & comfort. ⭑ some people just can’t take a hint. your boyfriend (bodyguard) comes to your rescue.

“I have a boyfriend,” you say. For at least the fifteenth time. You’re getting tired of counting.

The guy who’s been hitting on you for the past ten minutes while you wait smirks. Gross.

“Bet he doesn’t treat you right.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. As if. Just flat-out leaving the café right now sounds really, really tempting. But you also just paid for your drink, and you really, really don’t feel like abandoning it because some weirdo with no self-awareness can’t handle being rejected.

A voice cuts in, flat. Dangerous.

“She literally had pancakes in bed this morning. Talk to my girl again, and I’ll cut your tongue off.”

You bite your lip to hide the rush of relief that spreads through your chest.

Jason.

You forgot you were sharing your location with him. Of course he’d notice when your order took ten minutes instead of six.

You’re mentally doodling little hearts around his name as your beautiful, big, grumpy, scary dog of a boyfriend steps into place beside you like your personal bodyguard, hand sliding around your waist—warm and sure, grounding you.

It’s possessive, but not like the way strangers look at you. Not expectant or entitled. His touch says I’ve got you. Like he already knows your worth and never needed you to earn it. Never looked at you and thought prove it. He just sees you. All of you.

You’re not just someone pretty to look at, not just a face.

Someone he loves in all your quiet, tired, messiness. No less breathtaking when your hair’s unbrushed and your makeup's off, and your socks don’t match, and you say something incredibly nerdy that makes him roll his eyes fondly and you forget how to make eye contact.

Someone who stays in his chest long after you’ve walked away, leaving him for work with the ghost of your kiss and lip gloss on his cheek, needing to be on your tiptoes to even reach him, even in heels which he always teases you for.

You’re someone to come home to. Someone whole and infinite and more.

“Was wondering where you were.” Jason mutters. His voice is calm, but you can feel the tension humming under his skin, sharp as a drawn wire, as his hand settles firmly over your lower back—right where the guy’s eyes had been.

The creep mutters something and slinks off, at least he had the awareness to sense danger. He’s lucky Jason doesn’t even spare him a second glance.

His focus is on you.

You’re still standing too still. Your fingers locked too tight around the cup of your drink. You haven’t taken a single sip.

Jason tilts his head and lowers his voice. “You okay?”

He rubs slow, small circles on your back, and some of the pressure inside you finally starts to ease. Your shoulders sag a little more.

"Maybe I shouldn't have worn this today."

You glance down at your outfit, fidgeting with the hem. You had felt cute, when you put it on at least. Now you just feel small. Exposed.

Jason’s hand stills, then smooths down your spine with deliberate care.

"No," he says firmly. "You look beautiful. Don't ever let some asshole's behavior make you question that. You're not the problem, sweetheart—they are."

After all the stares that make you want to crawl out of your own skin, his hand feels like water over flame. Quiet. Steady. Like he’s cleansing you of every word, every glance, every inch of attention that never came with the kindness that you deserved.

You nod. Then shake your head. The laugh that slips out is small. Fragile.

“No matter how many times this happens,” you say, “I can never get used to it.”

Jason’s eyes soften.

His hand rises to your cheek, brushing along your jaw with careful fingers like he’s afraid to hurt you even by accident.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Baby. You shouldn’t have to. Look at me."

You hesitate, then look up at him.

His eyes—a gorgeous clear, deep teal—meet yours, steady and soft. His gaze quiets the noise in your head. There’s no judgment there. No pressure. Just him, looking at you. Because you’re the most important thing in the room.

“This isn't your fault,” he says gently, thumb stroking your cheek.

Your lips twitch. “Mhm.”

Jason shakes his head a little, and leans in just enough for his forehead to almost touch yours.

“I want you to say it with me, sweetheart,” he says.

You take a shaky breath. Your voice is quiet, but there. “This isn't my fault.”

“That’s my girl.”

The corner of his lip quirks up in a proud little smile just for you.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he says.

“You’re here now,” you whisper.

Jason leans in and kisses your forehead.

“Damn right I am.”

He glances toward the door the guy vanished through, then back at you.

“If he even looks at you again,” he says, voice low, “he’s not walking. Like, ever.”

You huff a soft laugh, the first real one, and he smiles at the sound.

Jason wraps an arm around your shoulders this time—holding you close, not just guarding you, but keeping you warm. You bury your face in his chest and let his comforting scent wash over you. The smell of home.

He nudges you gently toward a table, like he’s steering a ship back to harbor.

“Come on, sit. Drink your sugary, overpriced caffeine. I’ll be right here the whole time."

You sit, finally, and Jason doesn’t let go. His thigh brushes yours under the table. His hand stays tucked around the back of your chair.

You sip your drink slowly. It's lukewarm by now, but somehow still tastes better than it would’ve without him next to you. His leg is pressed to yours under the table, solid and steady. Like an anchort, keeping you from drifting too far out.

Jason’s thumb brushes the back of your hand where it rests on the table, slow and absent like he’s not even thinking about it—but you know he is. Jason thinks about everything. Especially you.

“I like your socks,” he says after a while. Voice low, coaxing. “The little strawberries. That’s new.”

You glance down. Smile faintly. “Bought them last week.”

He hums, leaning in until his shoulder brushes yours. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve worn mine too.”

“You don’t have strawberry socks.”

“Don’t underestimate how far I’d go to match you.”

The laugh you let out comes from your chest this time. A real one. You lean your head against his shoulder, and he shifts just slightly to let you settle there.

When you finish your drink, Jason takes the empty cup from your hands and tosses it for you.

“You ready to go?”

You nod, still leaning into him. “Only if we can stop to get books at the library.”

His hand finds yours again. Squeezes. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

And for the first time that morning, you feel safe again.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #based off real events #except without jason </3 #im sorry to everyone thats ever had this happen to them ITS SO ANNOYING

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zenpai-drabbles · 2 days ago

Text

Mateo Manta NSFW headcanons

Gender Neutral Reader

18+! Minors DNI!

- On your first time, it would be hard for you to find somewhere quiet due to the inanimates following you both, and he feels bad just leaving them.

- Once you're able to find a petsitter, he'd try to make it up for you and focus on you.

- Easily overwhelmed if you're all over him in your first time.

- similarly... he's SO vocal, but he tries to cover his mouth with his hand or a blanket while you just go down on him.

- he's handsy. He would massage your chest, carres your thighs, and just everywhere while kissing you.

- I just know he's thick. He would fill you up and it would feel so good.

- When he's going down on you, I just know he'd love you just grabbing him by the hair.

- Easily turned on with you being vocal too.

- Would love to just be between your legs forever.

- I think he's soft switch vers. He can do both, but I think you'd have to coax him out on being hard on you

- when you're able to though... I think he can be quite the Dom, not hard ones like Doug or the others, but I just know he'd love to tame you by being so sweet– so gentle that it's overwhelming.

- As a sub though, I think he'd be very kind and would praise you a lot.

- I bet he loves praises, both giving and receiving.

- Would tell you how good you feel, how beautiful you look with your mouth in his cock, or how much you stretch him and make him feel so good. He would just look at you with heart eyes and so much admiration.

- When you've done it multiple times though, I'd like to think he'd be a tease... He'd be smirking at you until you go down on him.

- Maybe I just really want him to be overwhelmed, and I think he'd love that– make him think of you and only you.

- I think he can be quite vanilla, but it won't be hard for him to try what you like. He would just love to please you.

- Aftercare with him is just so lovely. He'll draw you a bath or a shower, he'll massage you all over and especially your sore spots, and will have prepared snacks to just chill with.

- You'll feel refreshed, your head will be mush, and he would just give you so much love. It's an absolute 10/10 I bet my life on it.

- You will HAVE to cuddle, eat while watching films or such, or just talk. Either way, he would love to feel your skin around him.

- Definitely a sleeper after sex. You're just so comfortable to be around.

- Would tell you everything that's happening to the inanimates, how the springtail has been eating well, Davi and Stitch being best friends now, and how lovely it is that you're a part of this big family. He's so happy he has you.

#mateo manta #date everything #date everything smut #date everything fanfic #mateo manta smut #mateo date everything #mateo manta x reader #mateo manta headcanons #headcanon #date everything x reader

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 1 day ago

Note

I love your short fics, love when they come across my dash, they live in my head rent free 🤭

Thinking about one (or all, your pick) of the 141 boys getting called in because their kid is in trouble at school, but when they arrive they learn that their kid was only standing up for someone else who was being bullied. Bonus points if it's their little girl standing up to a big mean boy.

They learn this by walking in on their non-confrontational, normally pacifist partner (the other parent) absolutely ripping the headmaster a new one for putting their child in this situation.

The boys thought they were going to be the bad cop in this scenario, but instead they are the ones having to rely on their hostage negotiation training to get their little loves back home.

(It's hard not to feel something at the sight of the mama bear energy... It might be pride but it's probably something else 🤭)

Xoxoxo

Daddy’s Little Defender

Pairing: Poly!141 x Reader

Warnings: Mild language, parental rage, school bullying mention, protective reader, found family parenting, soft domestic tension, lots of heart

Author's Note: Domestic chaos meets protective firestorm. This one’s for the softies who would go feral for their kid. Based on a beautiful request about mama bear energy, nervous dads, and a little girl who refuses to let injustice slide.

Summary: A call from school sends the 141 into panic mode—your daughter’s in trouble. But when they arrive, they find you already handling it in a way none of them expected. What was supposed to be a parent-teacher meeting turns into a standoff... and maybe something a little more emotional.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It started like a perfectly normal Wednesday.

Toast crumbs scattered across the kitchen counter, Kyle and Johnny bickering over whose turn it was to pack the lunchbox, Simon groaning at the sound of Peppa Pig playing in the background, and John sipping his coffee with the paper tucked under his arm like he was already ten years into retirement.

You kissed foreheads, wiped faces, and reminded Bonnie for the third time to wear socks that matched. Your little girl—seven years old, gap-toothed, and bright as a firecracker—grinned up at her dads like she was the queen of the castle.

Everything felt routine. Cozy. Soft.

Then Simon’s phone rang.

He frowned at the screen, answered calmly, then froze halfway through “This is her father.”

John looked up. Kyle stopped stirring the oatmeal. Johnny leaned off the counter slowly.

Simon’s face didn’t change—but something in the room did.

He ended the call, voice tight. “School. Something happened with Bonnie.”

No one wasted a second.

They loaded into the SUV with terrifying efficiency, each man scanning the situation like a mission. John drove. Johnny had his arm slung around the passenger seat, tapping his fingers. Kyle checked the school address twice even though he knew the way. And Simon just stared straight ahead like he could will the truth into existence.

“She’s a good kid,” Johnny murmured for the third time. “Wouldn’t start nothin’. She’s just like her mum.”

That much was true.

Your girl had your heart—sunshine-bright and gentle-handed, always the first to share her juice box and stand up when someone cried. But when they arrived at the school office, the secretary’s expression was pinched.

The principal was waiting in his office, awkward and pale, fidgeting with a folder.

“I’m afraid this is a behavioral issue. Bonnie kicked another student. In the shin.”

The room went still.

“She what?” Kyle blinked.

“Apparently, he was pushing another boy. And she intervened. Verbally at first. Then physically.”

The principal adjusted his tie. “She told him—verbatim—‘Do it again, and I’ll break your nose like my Papa Simon did to that man in Berlin.’”

Johnny wheezed. “She what?”

Kyle covered his mouth, eyes wide with barely contained laughter. Simon looked like he was deciding whether to be proud or terrified. John’s jaw clenched.

“She’s suspended for the remainder of the week,” the principal added, as if it was the only logical outcome.

Then—

Boom.

The office door burst open.

And you were there.

Not the quiet, honey-voiced version of you who made bedtime tea and hummed lullabies.

No.

This was war.

“Who the hell do you think you are suspending my daughter for protecting another child?” you snapped, voice low and crackling with fury.

The principal flinched. “Ma’am—”

“She didn’t start a fight. She ended one. Where were your staff when a third-grade boy was getting pushed around hard enough to bleed? You want to discipline someone? Try disciplining yourself.”

“Mrs.—”

“Not MacTavish. Not Garrick. Not Riley. Not Price. Just Mama. And Mama is pissed.”

The room crackled with tension.

Outside the door, Bonnie sat cross-legged on a bench, head bowed, chewing her sleeve.

You didn’t even wait for a response. You stormed out, dropped to your knees, and pulled her into your arms.

“You okay, baby?”

She sniffled. “I didn’t mean to get in trouble.”

“You’re not in trouble,” you whispered fiercely. “You did exactly what I taught you. You stood up for someone who couldn’t. That’s bravery, Bonnie. That’s being a good person.”

Behind you, the boys emerged one by one.

Johnny knelt first, ruffling her curls. “Shin’s a solid target. You alright, little one?”

She nodded into your shoulder.

Kyle crouched next, eyes full of admiration. “Didn’t think you’d use Berlin as an example.”

“She listens,” Simon muttered.

John crouched in front of her, calm as ever. “You scared us, sweetheart. But we’re proud of you.”

“Even though I kicked him?” she whispered.

“Especially because,” he said.

You stood slowly, heart still hammering in your chest. All four men turned toward you with something unreadable in their eyes.

Admiration. Awe. Maybe something else.

John reached out first, brushing your wrist with his fingertips. “Didn’t think I’d walk in and see you going full recon mode.”

“I was livid,” you muttered. “They were blaming her for doing the right thing.”

Kyle slipped an arm around your waist. “You were amazing.”

Johnny leaned in with a low whistle. “Honestly, might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Simon, of course, deadpanned, “You did use my Berlin story. I feel oddly honored.”

Back in the car, Bonnie happily sipped her juice box from her lunchbox, swinging her legs like nothing had happened.

You sat sandwiched between Johnny and Kyle, your hand in John’s, Simon driving up front.

And in that moment, everything settled again. The storm passed.

Your girl was safe.

Your boys were here.

And they’d all learned something important today.

No one—no one—messed with your kid.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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hyunjincanraptoo · 19 hours ago

Note

I know you mostly do hyunjin fics but I was wondering if you could to a bangchan one? I was looking for one I was thinking of and I couldn't find it and I thought I'd ask you because your fics are so good! Could you try to make a first time with chan one? Kind of like your hyunjin one that you made buy a chan version of it idk I've just been so dululu lately and I need a fic like that, but if your but please dont rush if your doing other things♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Bed of roses- B.CH

First of all, hey!! I am SO sorry it took so long. I love your ideas, they are always great. And honestly at this point I am writing for all members + ateez hehe

And in second place, I want to dedicate this fic to beautiful @ktxoxoxo. Feliz cumpleaños, baby! I promised you a bed of roses and here it's hehe Wish you all the happiness in the world and I hope you had a great day 💜

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: smut

Alexa, play Bed of roses by Bon Jovi

You didn’t mean to break the bed, but in your defense, the bug was huge.

One moment you were peacefully folding laundry, the next you were shrieking and jumping on your bed like it was a lifeboat and you were on Titanic. And apparently, your bedframe wasn't built for dramatic bug escaping adventures.

It cracked beneath your weight with a crunch. Not totally broken, but enough to collapse slightly.

Which is how you ended up sitting on the floor, texting your new boyfriend in absolute shame.

You:

I broke my bed cause of a bug 💀

Channie:

😭 How big was the bug??

You:

Big enough for me to panic and jump like an olympic gymnast

Channie:

I’m coming over, babe

We’re going to IKEA

“Okay, but I thought you'd laugh more”, you say as he pulls into the parking lot, “Like, isn’t this the kind of thing you'd roast me for?”

Chan hums, “It is, but also I’m gonna romanticize this. We’re going to IKEA together like a new married couple”

You blink at him.

He grins, “Don’t tell me you never imagined walking around those fake rooms holding hands, pretending we’re furnishing our home?”

“Okay. Maybe once. Or twice”

He hops out and comes to your side of the car, lacing his fingers with yours the moment you step out, “Good! Let’s get delulu over furniture”

You roll your eyes. But your giggle anyway

•°. *࿐

It begins in the kitchens.

“Oh, I could totally see us making breakfast here”, he says, tapping a marble counter, “You scrambling eggs while I steal kisses and burn the toast”

“In your fantasy, I’m the one cooking?!"

“I’m better at kissing”

You blush and move on, but he follows with a lazy hand on the small of your back.

“Look at this one”, he says, pointing to a tub, “Our kids could splash around in here”

You choke, “Kids?!”

He shrugs, amused by your expression, “Too soon?”

You poke his chest him, “Way too soon”

He pouts playfully, eyes warm. “Fine. Just imagine you in it. Bubbles, candles and me on the rug beside it, feeding you strawberries”

You laugh, “You romantic menace”

But the worst is the bed section. He sits down on a queen sized one and pats the space beside him.

You sit.

Chan leans back, legs wide, arms resting behind his head like he belongs there.

“I could definitely see us making kids on this one”

Your breath catches.

He glances over with a smug grin, but it softens when he sees your expression— flushed, quiet, hopeful.

“Too much?”, he asks gently.

You shake your head, trying to stay cool, “Just... haven’t thought that far ahead”

He leans in, brushing his fingers against your knee, “No pressure. I like where we are”

You nod, “I like it too”

•°. *࿐

You buy the bed. And Chan insists on paying for half of it.

“I’ll cover half”, Chan says as he hoists one of the heavier boxes into the trunk.

You arch a brow. “You sure? I broke the bed”

He grin,. “And I helped you pick a new one. That makes it ours now”

You narrow your eyes, “Are you trying to co-own my furniture?”

He shrugs, slamming the trunk closed, “Maybe I just want you to think of me every time you get in bed”

Your jaw drops, “Christopher Bang!”

“What?”, he says innocently, but the smirk is anything but innocent

“I love you”

He walks past you, enlacing your pinkies together as he heads to the driver’s side, “I love you too, baby”

•°. *࿐

That night, you stay over at his place.

He tosses you one of his oversized shirts, makes you dinner, and kisses you slowly on the couch before pulling you into bed. It’s soft, domestic, like you’ve done this a hundred times already.

The next morning, he drives you to work, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily holding yours. As you unbuckle to get out, he tugs your wrist gently and leans over to kiss you, probably a little longer than necessary.

“Have a good day”, he murmurs. “And don’t worry, I’ll have the bed ready when you come home”

You blink, “Really? You don’t have to”

He just winks, “I’ve got you, baby”.

And with that, you spend the whole shift thinking about your disgustingly sweet boyfriend.

•°. *࿐

When you get home, the lights are low and your apartment smells like roses.

You blink at the trail of petals leading to your bedroom and then stop in the doorway— your new bed is built, fluffed, blankets folded neatly.

Chan stands beside it with a boyish smile, rubbing the back of his neck, “Hey...”

“Chan… what’s that?”

“I just… I thought I’d surprise you. Build it while you were gone. And the rest, well... I got carried away”

You step inside, eyes darting around, “This is... beautiful”

He shrugs, “No pressure or anything. I know we still haven’t… you know. But I just thought maybe…. new bed, new memories”

You look at him— his eyes are kind, gentle, nervous. And you know you want him too.

Not just because of the bed. You want him because he showed up, hands full of Allen keys and roses. Because he doesn't judge when you break the bed because of bugs and also dreams big. Because he makes IKEA’s aisles feel like home.

You walk to him slowly

“Can I kiss you?”, you ask.

His breath stutters, “Please”

You kiss him deep— full of all the things you didn’t say in the kitchen aisle, the tub aisle, the bedroom aisle.

He pulls you closer by the hips, mouth hungry but patient. You feel his hands spread wide on your back, guiding you gently to the bed like you’re sacred.

Clothes come off slowly. First his shirt, then yours. His fingers tremble slightly as they trace the curve of your waist.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, kneeling between your thighs.

You nod, “I’ve never been more sure”

He kisses down your neck, your collarbones, the sensitive skin just above your breast. You arch into him, heart pounding like a drum.

He takes his time. Every touch is mindful, every breath shared. He groans when you touch him, eyes closing.

“I got you”, he breathes, “We’ll go slow”

He lies back slowly, guiding you to straddle him but not the way you expect.

Instead, he tugs you down with him until your back is flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, your thighs wrap around his hips. You're cradled in his body like you're made to fit there like his lap, his hands, his chest were always meant for you.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, his breath warming the shell of your ear.

You nod, pulse racing. “More than okay”

You reach between your bodies to help guide him in— careful, your breath catching as he slides into you from behind.

A shared gasp leaves both your mouths.

The stretch, the closeness, the sound of his moan against your neck—it’s overwhelming in the most delicious way.

His arms tighten around your waist, and you feel his lips press to your shoulder as he starts to move. Slow, rolling hips beneath you. He thrusts up gently, and the rhythm is steady, sure, tender.

Your head tips back against his shoulder.

“You feel so good”, he breathes, voice wrecked, one hand sliding up to cup your breast while the other holds your stomach close, “I want you like this forever”

You whisper his name, trembling slightly as pleasure builds. It’s deeper like this. Fuller. Every drag of him inside you makes your body curl back into him tighter.

He keeps you safe.

Your fingers lace with his at your stomach, squeezing as the pace picks up— soft wet sounds and shallow gasps filling the room, his lips open against your jaw, groaning your name.

You come first, your body arching, chest heaving, legs shaking around him as he whispers encouragements into your skin.

“That’s it, baby… just like that. Can’t believe you are all mine”

He follows soon after, hips stuttering, breath hitching as he holds you tighter— burying himself as deep as he can go with a strangled moan. His warmth fills you slowly, pulsing inside while you lie there— still trembling, still wrapped in his arms.

Neither of you speak right away.

Only the sound of shared breaths, kisses pressed lazily to your shoulder, his fingers drawing shapes over your stomach where your hands still rest.

“I’ve never…, he begins softly, voice still unsteady, “felt anything like that before”

You smile, “Yeah. Me neither”

You turn your face to him, “Thanks for building the bed, baby”

He chuckles, heart melting silently, “Guess we built something else tonight too”

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin , @yxna-bliss

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wendichester · 24 hours ago

Note

please!! dean x autistic reader that has an hyperfixation on cars and starts tweaking out when they see the impala for the first time, starting to drop informations about its history and other stuff abt it !! it would be so cute

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 car buff,

summary. dean had no clue you knew so much about cars. and oh boy, he's feeling it

pairing. dean winchester x autistic!reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 545

notes / warnings. reader with hyperfixation on cars (enthusiastic infodumping), slight awkwardness (canon-typical dean), soft boy dean trying to play it cool but melting, lots of car facts, nothing but vibes and serotonin

Dean’s halfway through filling the tank when he hears it.

“Oh my god, is that a ‘67 Impala?”

He turns. And then immediately stares.

You’re walking toward the car like it’s a religious artifact, eyes wide and shiny and locked on her like she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen—which, honestly, fair. But Dean’s used to people ignoring the Impala. Or calling her a boat. Or saying she looks like a damn hearse.

Not this.

“You even have the original grille,” you’re saying, almost breathless. “Is that the factory paint or did you restore it? Oh my god, and the interior—wait, wait, are those bench seats?”

Dean blinks. “Uh… yeah.”

You drop into a crouch to look closer at the tires and start muttering under your breath like you're cataloging her specs. Which you kind of are.

Dean can’t help but grin. “You a fan?”

You pop up like you forgot he was there, eyes lit with excitement. “Fan is an understatement. This is THE car. Like—the car. It’s the holy grail of muscle. Four hundred twenty-seven cubic inches, V8 engine, 385 horsepower if you tune it right—and she’s got the bones for long-haul driving, which you never get in these classics.”

Dean lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “Most people just say she’s shiny.”

“Those people have no taste,” you shoot back, not missing a beat.

Dean laughs. He’s never heard someone defend Baby’s honor that fast. He likes it.

“You a mechanic or just real into old Chevys?”

“I mean—” You pause. “I’m autistic. Hyperfixated on cars since I was like, six. I used to fall asleep listening to my grandpa’s engine manuals. I can take apart a carburetor blindfolded. Tried to do it in eighth grade science class. Was not appreciated.”

Dean barks out a laugh. You beam, proud and not even a little embarrassed. It’s contagious.

“Name’s Dean,” he offers, tossing the gas nozzle back into the pump. “She’s mine. Fully restored her with my own hands. Most folks don’t even give her a second look anymore.”

“They’re fools.”

He points at you. “Exactly.”

You walk a slow circle around the Impala, reverent. “The chrome’s original, too, huh? You polish this, don’t you? Like religiously.”

Dean looks a little sheepish. “Every week.”

You glance up at him, a big, dorky smile on your face. “I think I love you.”

Dean chokes. “Sorry, what?”

You freeze. “Oh my god. Out loud. I said that out loud.”

You look like you’re about to self-destruct. Dean raises his hands quickly, chuckling.

“Hey, hey—it’s alright. I mean, you just met the real love of my life. Pretty sure you’re her type.”

You glance at the car. Then back at Dean. “So… do I get to sit in her or do I have to buy you dinner first?”

Dean grins, big and slow. “Tell you what. You let me take you to dinner, and I’ll even let you ride shotgun.”

You gasp. “With the windows down?”

Dean nods solemnly. “Cassette tape blasting. Bench seat privilege included.”

“Deal.”

You hold out your hand like it’s sacred, and Dean takes it, shaking with a smile.

Neither of you knows it yet, but this is absolutely going to become a love story.

It just starts with chrome.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req #d : car buff

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whytheylosttheirminds · 2 days ago

Text

Blue Sweater - r.c.

disclaimer: originally posted on my old blog in October, this is a repost! soft bf Rafe belongs on tumblr, so I am returning him to his home to run free <3

cw: smut, fluffy bf vibes, inspired by s4 rafe, pinv, this fic is 18+ minors do not interact

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

You’d fallen asleep on the couch, waiting up for him again. You didn’t fault Rafe for working so hard, you just miss him so fucking much when he’s in back-to-back meetings all day.

You’re pulled from your dreams when the couch dips below you, a large, warm presence settling next to you on the sofa. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, eyes still closed.

He’s smirking down at you, you know him so well you can picture exactly how he looks without actually seeing him.

“Hi,” he leans forward, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry, that last meeting ran so long.”

Finally opening your eyes to meet his, you’re almost startled by the sight. Somehow, in the dim evening light, they’re more deeply blue and beautiful than ever.

“Nice sweater,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers along the hard edge of his shoulder. Even though he looks so soft and pretty right now, he’s tense, and you wish you could ease the worry that furrows his brow.

He smiles knowingly, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling in the cute way that makes your heart ache for him.

“Thanks, my girlfriend got it for me.”

“She has good taste,” you joke as your run your hand gently up and down his bicep, the soft fabric such a contrast to the hard muscle below.

“Yeah, she’s all kinds of good,” he winks.

“Then why’d you make her wait for you all night?” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip so he’d know you’re just teasing.

“I said I’m sorrrrry,” he whines as he leans over you more, adjusting to bring his legs onto the couch. You make room for him instinctually, his body fitting into yours like you were designed for each other.

He lets his full weight down slowly, sinking you both deep into the cushions. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he drags his lips against the skin below your ear so gently, it sends goosebumps racing across your skin. He can feel your excitement and starts kissing you more firmly, leaving little wet spots up the column of your throat.

Your hands splay out over his big, firm back, rubbing circles into the tight muscles. You press deep, working out his stress, and he groans at your firm touch. Your hands work slowly down his back, pressing as you go. When you reach the hem of his sweater, you slip your hands underneath. Rafe flinches at your touch, a shudder running through him.

“Your hands are cold!” He exclaims, his voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

“Oh sorry, love!” you start to pull them away, but he reaches his arm behind him and pins your palms to his skin.

“No, it feels nice, don’t stop.”

You continue, the pads of your fingers digging little figure eights into his lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“What’s got you so stressed baby, hmm?” You ask.

“Just got too much going on,” he shakes his head so his buzzed hair tickles your earlobe. You giggle at the sensation, his head rising and falling with the shake of your chest.

“Poor baby,” you coo, making him smile against you. “Just need a little help to relax?”

Rafe nods against you, moving slightly to lay his head against your chest so you can run your nails along his head like you know he likes. You bring one hand up, the other still under his shirt, the motion making you open your legs wider so you can stretch. He slots between them perfectly, and when you drag your nails over the fuzzy hairs right at the nape of his neck, you can feel him twitch against your core, already half hard.

“Someone’s needy,” you hum, delighted that you can make him so hot just by touching him tenderly like this. “Want me to make you forget all about your bad day?”

“Please,” he groans into your collarbone, pressing his hips down harder so you can feel him fully against you now. Your wetness pools immediately, soaking through your panties as you arch your back and return the pressure.

“Shit, baby, that’s so nice,” he praises.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this,” you confess.

“Then we better not make you wait any longer.”

Swiftly, he lifts his head from your chest and finds your lips with his. It’s hungry and sloppy, the wet skin of his lower lip sliding against yours as your mouths collide. You’re fully grinding up into him now, and there is nothing semi-soft about him, his hard cock threatening to rip the seams of his pants. You writhe, desperate to feel his length. You know it like the back of your hand, picturing his perfect cock clearly as you rock against it. You’ve got every vein, every throbbing, pink inch memorized.

“Take your pants off,” you breathe into his open mouth.

With a cocky grin that makes you impossibly wetter he drawls, “now who’s needy, huh?”

You roll your eyes and reach for his waistband, if he’s gonna be an ass about it you’ll just do it yourself. He mirrors you, undressing you with the same shaky fervor. Your shirt goes first, he’s delighted to see you’ve opted for no bra. In the cold evening air, your nipples harden immediately, and he can see the goosebumps spreading across your torso.

“Ohh baby, you really are freezing.”

“Mhm,” you nod, lip pulled between your teeth. “Warm me up, Rafe.”

A throaty groan rises from his chest as he takes over your work on his pants, ripping them off as best he can without standing, his boxers following. You slip your thumbs under your shorts, doubling up to slide your panties down with them until you’re bare for him. Only one piece of clothing remains between you, the soft blue sweater you bought for him. He starts to pull it off, but you stop him, your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“No, leave it on,” you instruct.

“Whatever you want, angel,” he smirks at your unusual request, but obliges without complaint.

He lays down on you again, his lips hovering over yours as he lets his cock press into your inner thigh. He’s so hard you gasp, inhaling sharply at the sweet pressure against your leg. He kisses you again, more tenderly this time, like he’s trying to imprint the taste of you onto his tongue. As he lets his weight settle on you, the soft threads of his sweater rub over your sensitive nipples, the sensation making your eyes squeeze shut and a strained moan echo from your chest.

“Y’okay?” He asks.

“It feels so g-good,” you croak out.

“What does, baby?”

You blush, feeling silly for it, but something about the soft material against your hardened skin is so delicious.

A little embarrassed, you admit, “the sweater on my tits feels really nice.”

“It does?” He questions, amused.

“Just stay on me baby, don’t stop.”

You and Rafe have been known to argue about almost anything, but he never argues when you tell him how to make you feel good. He flattens his chest against you fully, rutting his dick against your leg, causing his chest to rub against yours as requested. Your head falls back into the throw pillows. You let him continue to move you both until you almost can’t stand the friction anymore.

“I love that,” you whimper, eyes still squeezed shut. “But I need you inside.”

“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” He chuckles. Once again, you don’t need to see him to know what he looks like, his eyebrows are surely arched high and his lips quirked to the side as he looks at you in amusement.

“Rafe I’ve been waiting for like twelve hours,” you complain.

“I know, baby, I know,” he quells you. “I got you, alright?”

Propped on one arm, his sweater leaves your chest for a moment so he can line himself up at your soaked entrance. You wait with closed eyes, bracing for impact as you know it will take a minute to adjust to his size, it always does. But he doesn’t enter you, just grumbles with annoyance as he shuffles above you.

Your quizzical eyes open to find him fumbling with the collar of his sweater, preparing to pull it off.

“What’s the problem?”

“I want to see you, but this fucking sweater’s in the way,” he explains. You lift your head and look down to where your bodies should be meeting to see the hem of his sweater hanging in the way, blocking the view. “I’m just gonna take it off.”

“Nuh-uh!” you object.

“Baby,” he whines.

A solution comes to you, causing you to break into a wide grin.

“Open up,” you say, and he’s never looked more confused.

But then, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater between your fingers, making his stomach flinch as you brush against it. You lift the hem up to his mouth, revealing the sight of his cock dangerously close to your entrance. He puzzles it together, and teasingly rolls his eyes before letting you place it between his teeth. He bites down on it obediently, considering a protest before looking down to see he now has a perfect angle to his favorite sight in the world.

It feels so good when he finally slides in, stretching you so deliciously and filling you like only he can, that you almost actually cry. He moves gently, considerate enough to know there’s probably an edge of pain to your pleasure.

“You don’t have to go slow,” you assure him. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He tries to sound cocky, but it’s muffled from the fabric between his teeth.

The way his jaw clenches in frustration makes you giggle. Rafe usually does most of the talking, knowing the sound of his low voice in your ear makes you come so much faster.

“I’ll do the talking, just focus on my voice while you fuck me, m’kay?” You purr.

He nods in agreement, picking up the pace until he’s rocking into you, continuously hitting the perfect spot that makes you both shudder with pleasure. He’s going so hard you have to lift your arm above you and steady yourself against the arm of the couch. His eyes flit between the sight of you taking him in so perfectly and the way your tits bounce with each thrust.

You keep your promise to talk him through it, starting with, “just like that, Rafe- mmmph- feels so good. God, I can feel you so deep.”

His brows furrow in concentration, thrusting harder, desperate to drag more praises from your kiss-chapped lips. Your eyes train on the veins in his neck, throbbing with effort. You reach your other hand up and grab his chin, pulling his face so his eyes pierce yours.

“Shit, you look so good fucking me like you needed to,” you cry.

As much as he loves the eye-contact, he’s still wearing this stupid sweater for a reason, and he needs to remind you. He matches you by placing his hand on your face, soft but firm, and directing your gaze down to see him pistoning into you.

“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” you smile, admiring the creamy mess you’re making on his shaft. “You’re fucking covered in me, baby. Made me so wet comin’ in here looking this good.”

He removes his hand from your head, looking for a non-verbal way to thank you for your compliments. He presses his thumb to your tongue, and you don’t need words to know what he’s doing. You get it nice and wet, swirling spit around his thumb with your tongue. Once it’s ready, he lowers it to your clit, rubbing back and forth a few times before forming steady circles.

“Ah- fuck- yes, Rafe that’s so-” Your commitment to keep talking falters as pleasure floods your mind, robbing you of your voice.

He knows what you need, he always knows what you need. He pulls your hand from his chin and places it on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his sweater so he can release it from his teeth.

“There ya go,” he coos. “Need me to talk you through it, huh?”

You nod desperately, confirming what he already knew.

“Couldn’t even concentrate in my meetings,” he begins, panting with the effort he’s putting in, not letting up his pace. “Thinkin’ about you here waiting for me, walking around the house in those little shorts. How am I supposed to close deals when I can’t stop thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking this perfect pussy, huh?”

His words had exactly the effect he was hoping for, you were beside yourself, moaning and squirming beneath him. Letting out the sweetest little “oh, oh, ohs” as his cock rocked your whole body. He was losing tempo, both of you nearing the edge. You brought your other fist up to bunch his sweater, too, grasping so tightly you were afraid you were gonna tear it. You clenched around him as he kept talking.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze me as hard as you can - fuck!” He was unraveling, needing to find the words to get you there so he didn’t finish first. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

Just as he expected, that’s what finally did it for you. You cried out his name as sparks exploded in your stomach, coming so hard you had to bury your face into his chest to keep from screaming. He followed behind you almost immediately, his hot cum spurting into you as his primal groans and grunts echoed through the room.

A few minutes later, you’re cleaned up and cuddled in his bed, now wrapped up in his sweater, the stretched-out fabric soft against you. He smirked as his hands ran over the material, rubbing over your stomach and waist lovingly.

“Might have to wear this thing every day if that’s how you’re gonna react,” he teases you.

“Uh-huh,” you giggle. “Good luck getting it back.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

a/n: I'm only back temporarily but I'll be reposting just a few of my non-series works from my old blog that I think just belong on tumblr!! it just feels right for them to be here. miss y'all!

#rafe cameron #obx #rafe #obx fic #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #bf!rafe #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut

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verricherri · 2 days ago

Note

Slightly pervy Spencer figuring out he has a size kink with petite!reader? 👀 (No i’m not projecting about being short why would you think that?????)

Statistically Significant (NSFW///MDNI)

A/N: I blacked out somewhere between “two fingers” and “fold you in half.” No I will not be recovering — well, lucky you anon. I’m considered petite too 😌 so this one’s for us Warnings: spencer reid that rearranges your insides, intense eye contact - dont say i didn't warn ya Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated ☀️

The movie played, but he hadn’t looked at the screen in almost twenty minutes — not really, not beyond the vague flicker of light and sound casting shadows on the walls and across your skin, where you were curled beside him on the couch like something effortless, completely at ease, legs tucked under one of the fleece blankets you’d taken from his lap halfway through the first act without asking.

He didn’t mind. Of course he didn’t mind. He couldn’t even think about the blanket now, not when every subtle shift of your body — the way you stretched, the soft crack of your ankle as you re-crossed your legs, the casual fall of your oversized t-shirt slipping further off your shoulder — made it increasingly difficult to do anything but think about you.

And then his eyes landed on your foot.

Bare, relaxed, resting near his thigh, the edge of your heel brushing the cushion between you like it had always belonged there.

He blinked once. Then again.

And before he could stop himself, he found his gaze locked onto the sharp curve of your ankle — delicate, birdlike, small enough that he was suddenly possessed with the certainty that he could probably wrap his entire hand around it and still have room to spare.

It wasn’t just the ankle.

It was the scale of you. The way your frame seemed to disappear beneath the blanket. The way your wrist had looked earlier tonight when you passed him the remote. The way his hand had accidentally brushed yours when reaching for the same piece of popcorn and had completely engulfed it without even trying.

It was like his brain had stored all those images somewhere quiet, subtle, harmless — and now, they were bursting to the surface at once, setting off a slow, startling awareness in his chest that he couldn’t look away from.

“Spence?”

Your voice was soft, a little amused, and when he looked up, you were already watching him, one eyebrow raised in quiet curiosity.

“You zoned out,” you said, your mouth curling into a smile that wasn’t mocking — not really — just gently, warmly interested. “Too much profiling going on in that big beautiful brain, or did I bore you with my excellent taste in movies?”

He blinked again, caught somewhere between guilt and fascination.

“No—no, not at all,” he said quickly, sitting up straighter, trying and failing to unstick the words from the tangle of thoughts crowding his head. “I was just… um. Thinking about your ankle.”

That made you laugh — a real, delighted sound that made his stomach flutter like it always did when he managed to surprise you.

“My ankle?” you repeated, clearly entertained. “Of all things?” He flushed, already regretting the honesty, but it was too late now. “I just—noticed it. And I realised how… small it is. Compared to my hand. I think I could probably wrap two fingers around it.”

You paused, blinking slowly.

Then, as if testing him — as if you knew exactly what you were doing and wanted to see how far he’d go — you shifted your foot just a little closer, letting it settle more firmly against his thigh, your toes nudging the seam of his jeans like an invitation disguised as innocence.

“Go on, then,” you murmured. “Try it. For science.”

He hesitated. Just for a second.

But then he reached out, carefully, his fingers brushing the inside of your ankle with a kind of reverence he hadn’t expected, and as his hand closed gently around the joint — thumb pressing into the fragile bone, his other fingers curving beneath — he felt his heart kick hard in his chest.

He wasn’t wrong.

His hand dwarfed you.

Your ankle disappeared beneath his palm like it had been made to fit there, like the size difference between you was not just anatomical, but designed, deliberate, something that shouldn’t have made his pulse quicken the way it just did — but absolutely did.

He swallowed, throat dry.

“See?” he managed, voice low. “Two fingers.” You tilted your head, lips parting slightly, eyes sharp now in the dim light. “You’re turning very red.” “I didn’t mean anything weird by it,” he rushed out. “I just… didn’t realise. Before.” “That I’m small?” you asked.

He nodded.

“That you’re… big?”

He hesitated, and something about that hesitation made your mouth curve, slow and dangerous.

“I mean—yes,” he said, voice going a little hoarse. “I guess I never really thought about the contrast before.” “You really didn’t notice?” you asked, shifting again — just enough for your t-shirt to slide higher on your thighs, enough for your toes to press a little firmer into his leg. “That your hand could probably wrap around my throat?”

His whole body tensed like a livewire.

You smirked.

And he knew — in that exact moment — that he was completely fucked.

—

“You’re flushed,” you said, still smiling, but quieter now, like you were observing him from under a microscope and finding something new, something vulnerable. “I’m not—” he started, but his voice betrayed him with how raw it sounded, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” “Like what?” you asked innocently, but your eyes flicked down — to the hand still hovering near your ankle, to the slight twitch of his fingers, to the way his breath had started coming slower, shallower, like he couldn’t get enough air past whatever was building in his chest.

He wasn’t sure how to explain it. The way his brain had suddenly gone offline except for the part obsessively cataloguing every place where he was bigger — your wrist, your ankle, the curve of your waist, the whole of your thigh that he could probably cup with one palm. The way you were looking at him now like you knew exactly what he was thinking and were daring him to say it out loud.

“You know this is a kink, right?” you murmured, tilting your head, voice soft and heavy with suggestion. “The size difference thing.” He blinked, stunned. “It is?” “Mhm.” You shifted again, not dramatically — just enough that your knee brushed his thigh, enough that your voice was a breath too close when you added, “Some people get really into it. The whole big hands, big body, holding-you-down-with-one-arm thing.”

He swallowed. Hard.

“That’s…” he trailed off, and then nodded, a little helpless. “That’s very specific.” “Is it?” you whispered, resting your chin on your knees now, looking up at him with wide, almost amused eyes. “Or are you just realising that it might be your thing?”

He stared at you, throat tight, hands curling faintly on his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them anymore.

And then, very quietly, very carefully, he said, “Can I see your hand?”

You didn’t hesitate. Just offered it up, palm facing his, fingers relaxed.

He raised his own hand slowly and pressed his palm to yours — and the difference hit him like a punch to the gut.

His fingers overlapped yours entirely, knuckles past the tips. Your palm was swallowed in his. Your thumb looked like it belonged to a child next to his.

He didn’t move. Just stared, as if trying to process the size of it — not just the visual, but the feel, the confirmation that all his instincts had been right. That you were small. That he could probably wrap his hand around your throat or your waist or your thigh and still have space to spare.

And then, like he was thinking out loud, he said, “I could hold you down with just one hand.”

The words left his mouth before he had time to consider how they sounded — filthy, reverent, full of awe and something sharp underneath — but the second they landed between you, it was like the air shifted.

He didn’t take his hand away.

You didn’t pull back.

Instead, you whispered, “Show me.”

He paused, not because he didn’t want to — he did, God, he did — but because something about the way you said it made his pulse jump. Not a challenge. Not a tease. Just trust.

So slowly, gently, he slid his hand from yours and reached up to cup the side of your neck, his palm spanning the whole distance from your jaw to your collarbone. His thumb rested just under your ear. His fingers curved around the side, not squeezing — just fitting.

Perfectly.

You closed your eyes, breathing in through your nose, your body going still like you were letting yourself feel everything.

“Spencer,” you whispered, eyes fluttering open. “This okay for you?”

He shook his head once, then leaned in closer until your foreheads nearly touched, his voice low and wrecked.

“It’s more than okay,” he said, thumb brushing gently along your throat. “I think I’m obsessed.”

You gave a soft sound — half laugh, half gasp — and tilted your face into his palm.

“Then keep going,” you breathed. “Test your theory, Doctor.”

And oh, that did something to him.

He moved before he could overthink it — shifted closer on the couch, crowding your space but not forcing it, just letting his body speak what he couldn’t yet say out loud. His knee brushed yours. His other hand rose to cradle your jaw, thumb resting at the corner of your mouth, eyes locked on yours like you were the most fascinating puzzle he’d ever been asked to solve.

He looked like he was studying you — not in the way he usually did, not clinically or professionally or even analytically — but like every inch of you was new data he needed to understand by touch alone.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly, fingers trailing down your arm until they circled your wrist. He held it up, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted as he wrapped his hand around it. His fingers overlapped easily. He squeezed, just a little. “Barely any pressure.” “You’re turning red again,” you whispered, almost giddy.

He didn’t care. Not anymore.

“I think I want to measure everything,” he said, voice gone thick. “Just to be sure.”

You were already pulling him closer.

—

He didn’t even know when it shifted — when curiosity stopped being innocent, when the need to understand you turned into the need to unmake you — but he was past the point of return now, and it hit him with all the force of a theory proven true: you were tiny, breakable, and absolutely built to take every inch of him like a miracle designed just for him to solve.

And now he had to solve you.

You were beneath him — thighs spread, one leg folded over his arm like he wanted to frame it, preserve it, press it between glass and label it with some Latin classification that meant mine — and he was watching the head of his cock press against your entrance, thick and leaking and entirely too much for the body that trembled and pulled him in anyway.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, not even meaning to speak, his voice hoarse from restraint. “You’re shaking already.” “I’m trying,” you breathed, a little laugh caught in a gasp, your hands fisting the sheets because he hadn’t even gotten fully in and you could already feel the stretch of him, the steady, inch-by-inch burn of being filled beyond what your muscles expected — and the way he was watching it, wide-eyed, completely entranced, made the ache feel even sharper. “Spence—” “You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you could feel his body vibrating with the effort not to rut into you blindly, not to let his hips snap forward and ruin you too fast, too early, even though every part of him screamed to do exactly that. “You’re so small, and soft, and fuck, I can see you opening for me. I can see it—look—right here—”

His thumb brushed just below your belly button, trembling, and you whimpered, because the pressure alone made you feel like he was everywhere — not just inside you, but under your skin, stretching you from the inside out.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he breathed, more to himself than to you, his brows furrowed like he couldn’t make the math work. “This shouldn’t even be possible. Your body shouldn’t let me in like this.” “Then stop talking and move—”

That earned you a quiet, wrecked laugh, and then he did — he moved, slow and deep, and your eyes rolled back instantly, your mouth falling open without a sound, because nothing had ever felt like this — like him — and it wasn’t just the stretch or the thickness or the length, it was the way he held your body like it was sacred, the way he looked at you like you were divine proof that the universe loved him back.

“Oh my god,” he whispered as he bottomed out, chest shuddering. “You took all of me. You took all of me.”

You nodded, weakly, but the tears gathering in your eyes made it clear just how much it took to take him — how full you were, how raw it felt, how your walls fluttered with the effort of keeping him inside like your body couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go.

And still, he didn’t move. Not yet. Just stared down at the way your body clenched around him, one hand sliding under your thigh to lift it higher, spread you wider, test how far he could fold you without breaking the illusion of reverence.

“You feel like you were built for this,” he said softly. “For me.”

His voice cracked halfway through, like he still couldn’t believe it, like this was something his brain — so used to analysis and control and facts — couldn’t compute no matter how hard it tried.

“I could ruin you,” he whispered, voice gone dark now. “I could fuck you until you forget your own name, and you’d still beg for more.”

Your hand fisted in his hair at the base of his neck, desperate, grounding.

And finally, finally, he started to move.

The first thrust was slow, so slow, like he was dragging every ridge and vein of his cock against every swollen inch inside you, and when he pulled back, you felt empty in a way that made you ache instantly for him again — and then he slid back in just as slowly, just as deep, just as devastating.

It wasn’t pace. It was pressure. It was a scientist testing the theory of how many times he could hit the same perfect spot until the subject collapsed.

And you were going to collapse.

“I want to measure the way you fall apart,” he panted, his hand tightening on your thigh. “I want to watch how you react. What muscles twitch. What your voice does when I hit this angle—”

He adjusted, and you screamed.

Not loud. Not performative. Just a raw, honest sound like the breath had been punched out of you and replaced with nothing but him.

“That one,” he breathed, mouth against your cheek. “That sound. That’s what I want. Every time.”

He moved faster now, still deep, still devastating, and the sound of your bodies meeting filled the room — slick, obscene, holy — while your legs shook around his hips and your hands clawed at his shoulders like you were holding onto the only thing anchoring you to reality.

“I could keep you like this,” he muttered. “In my bed. In my lap. Every goddamn night. Just folded open and dripping and taking it all.” You whimpered, writhing. “Please—” “I want to see you stretched out the next morning,” he whispered, teeth brushing your ear. “I want to spread your thighs and see the outline of me still inside you. I want to look at your cunt and know I wrecked it.”

You came like a wave crashing against the rocks — sharp and loud and sudden, your body seizing beneath him with a sob so high-pitched it made his rhythm falter, his name spilling from your lips like prayer.

And he held you through it. Drove through it.

Spencer’s thrusts got erratic, sloppy, his jaw tight as your cunt clenched around him like a vice, like your body was trying to milk every last drop from him because it needed it. Because you wanted to be full in every way a person could be full.

And he gave it.

With a groan like it tore through his chest, he buried himself one last time, fingers digging into your hip, forehead pressed to your collarbone as he came inside you, hard, deep, too much — his entire body trembling from the force of it.

You were still shaking. He was still inside.

Neither of you said anything.

Not until he finally pulled back to look at you, eyes blown and lips parted, and said — barely above a whisper:

“You are… the most important discovery of my life.”

—

He didn’t move right away.

Didn’t pull out. Didn’t let go. Didn’t speak.

Just kept his body pressed to yours — his chest still heaving in the aftermath, skin damp with sweat, breath catching every few seconds like he couldn’t quite believe he was still breathing at all — and held you like he’d just survived something.

Like you had just saved him.

You weren’t sure who moved first — maybe you twitched, maybe you breathed a little too deeply, maybe your fingers brushed the base of his neck — but the moment you shifted beneath him, his hand came up to your face instantly, cradling your jaw with such gentleness it broke something open inside you.

“Don’t,” he whispered, eyes still closed, voice hoarse. “Just—just stay right here. Let me—please—let me feel you.”

So you stayed. Quiet. Still.

Your thighs were shaking. Your throat was dry. And he was still buried inside you, softening slowly, but not enough to make you feel anything less. If anything, it made you feel more — because he wasn’t holding you out of hunger anymore.

He was holding you like he’d been starving for years and didn’t trust the world not to take the meal away.

His lips brushed your temple.

Then your cheek.

Then your jaw.

Then he let out a long, slow breath and finally spoke.

“I’ve never…” He swallowed hard. “I’ve never felt that. Not like that. Not ever.” Your hand found his chest, fingers curled lightly in the dip beneath his collarbone. “Felt what?”

His eyes opened then — wide, dazed, impossibly soft — and when he looked at you, it wasn’t lust or pride or even satisfaction. It was awe. Pure, scientific awe. The kind that made you feel like he’d just discovered a planet where your body lived at the centre of every orbit.

“The stretch,” he said, like it hurt to say it. “The fit. The heat. The way you—God, the way you opened for me. Like your body knew me before I even touched you.”

You inhaled shakily.

“And when I was all the way in…” His voice cracked, and he pressed his forehead to yours, chest rising fast. “You were shaking. But you held me. You took every inch and still looked at me like you wanted it. Like you needed it.” “I did,” you whispered. He kissed you then — soft, reverent, like he didn’t deserve to — and pulled back just enough to whisper, “I don’t think I’m ever going to forget how that felt.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

And that silence must’ve unraveled something in him, because his voice dropped even lower when he murmured, “Do you realise how small you are compared to me? How delicate your bones are, how tiny your wrists? I could hold both in one hand and still have fingers left over. I could fold you in half and carry you through fire, and you’d barely fill my arms.”

Your body fluttered around him at the words, and he felt it — because his whole expression changed again. From awe to ruin.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “You like it.”

You looked away, embarrassed.

“No,” he said, catching your chin and gently guiding your gaze back to his. “No. Don’t hide from that. That’s mine now.”

You blinked.

“That sound you made when I said you were mine?” he whispered. “I want to record it. I want to play it back every night. I want to catalogue every fucking detail of what it feels like to fit inside someone who shouldn’t be able to take it. Who takes it anyway. Who takes me.” You felt your throat close up. “Spencer…”

He kissed your cheek. Your nose. Your lips again, slower.

Then, finally, he pulled out of you, slow and careful, eyes flicking down between your legs — and his breath stuttered at the sight of it.

His cum leaking out of you. Your folds swollen. Your thighs twitching from aftershocks.

And you — still soft, still open, still his.

“You’re ruined,” he whispered, not like an insult — like a prayer.

He disappeared between your thighs and kissed the inside of your knee. The curve of your hip. The sore, tender space above your mound.

Then: “I’m not done with you. I’m going to fuck this into your memory until your body recognises me like second nature.”

You whimpered, curling weakly.

He grabbed the blanket, laid beside you, pulled you to his chest.

And finally, when your breathing had evened out and you were half-asleep on his chest — legs still tangled, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist like he couldn’t let go — Spencer reached for his phone with the kind of quiet guilt only a man with too many tabs open could feel.

He turned the brightness all the way down.

Searched with one hand while the other kept rubbing slow circles on your back.

And typed:

“Can you develop a size kink after one statistically unlikely sexual encounter?”

Then:

“Is it normal to feel emotionally wrecked after sex with someone whose wrist fits inside your hand?”

Then:

“What does it mean when you think you just met the person you were scientifically designed to fuck forever?”

He stared at the last one. Didn’t hit send.

Just watched the blinking cursor.

Then tucked the phone under the pillow, pulled you closer, kissed the top of your head, and whispered — so soft you didn’t even stir:

“God help me if this wasn’t a one-time thing.”

You weren’t awake.

But if you had been, you might’ve smiled — because Spencer Reid didn’t need to write a paper.

You were already the only result that mattered.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #verricherriask🍒

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moondustbaby · 16 hours ago

Text

Made For Me

blue collar!Rafe x sahm!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

cw: lactation kink, big boobie appreciation, soft dominance, postpartum body comfort, oral (f. receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected piv

mdni 18+

summary: Rafe comes home from work to find you tired and leaking through your nursing bra—but all he sees is how beautiful you are. With gentle hands and loving words, he shows you just how much he adores every part of you, especially the ones you feel most insecure about.

⸻

You’re folding laundry in nothing but your robe, half-open because it doesn’t quite fit your chest anymore. One side of your nursing bra is unclipped, and you keep forgetting to fix it—too tired, too distracted. You barely even notice the way milk slowly dampens the cup of your bra.

But Rafe notices.

He notices everything.

You hear his boots on the hardwood before you see him, the door creaking open as he walks in from work, cheeks flushed from the heat, Carhartt shirt sticking to his chest.

“Hey, baby,” he calls, eyes landing on you—and then his voice dips, goes all honeyed and low. “Damn.”

You glance up, flustered. “What?”

He drops his tool bag in the mudroom and walks in slow, his eyes locked on your chest like he hasn’t seen you in days, not just eight hours. “You know what that robe does to me,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your cheek, then down your neck. “S’like you’re beggin’ me to come home and ruin you.”

You roll your eyes, but your body reacts anyway—hot under his gaze. “I didn’t even notice it was falling open.”

He runs a thumb gently under the edge of your bra, where the fabric’s gone damp. “Yeah, you did.” His voice drops to a whisper. “You’re leakin’, baby.”

Your cheeks flush. “I know. I meant to go pump after I finished—”

Rafe pulls the robe open the rest of the way. “Nah. Don’t pump.”

You blink, heart skipping. “Rafe—”

“Lemme have it.”

The way he says it—like it’s a craving, a need, not a request—makes your knees weak. He drops to his knees in front of you, big hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the robe off your shoulders so you’re bare from the waist up, swollen and sensitive and too full.

He looks up at you like you’re the sun. “These tits…” He groans softly. “Fuck, baby. Look at you.”

Your arms twitch like you should cover yourself, but he gently pushes them down.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the underside of one heavy breast. “They’re so fuckin’ perfect. So big. Full. Made for me.”

You let out a shaky breath. “They make me look huge.”

“They make you look like a woman who carried my baby and feeds him with these pretty tits.” His voice is rough now. “You don’t look huge. You look hot.”

You whimper when he kisses the side of your breast, mouth warm and open. He flicks his tongue over your nipple, licking up a little spill of milk that escapes, and groans low in his throat like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“God, baby,” he pants. “You know what this does to me.”

Your knees buckle, and Rafe guides you to the couch. He lays you back, mouth never leaving your chest. He palms your breasts, heavy and tender in his hands, then wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks.

Hard.

You gasp. “Rafe—”

“I’ll be gentle,” he says, mouth still on you, hand sliding between your legs to tug your panties down. “You just sit there and let me taste what’s mine.”

You’re so wet you can feel the air on your thighs when he spreads them. He slides two fingers through your folds, then sinks one in slow, just to tease.

“Already so fuckin’ wet down here,” he murmurs, kissing a wet trail across your chest. “So good for me.”

You arch under him when his fingers start moving—slow, firm, curling just right. But it’s the way he keeps suckling your breast, switching sides every few minutes, moaning every time he gets another rush of milk, that makes your eyes roll back.

“Rafe,” you pant. “That feels—oh my god—”

“I could stay right here all night,” he mutters, dazed with it. “My perfect girl, all swollen and drippin’ for me. Tastes so sweet, baby. Bet you’re just as sweet down here too.”

He trails kisses down your stomach, then licks a stripe between your legs before you can even form words. You jolt, fingers sinking into his hair.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he says, like it’s sacred. “You do so much, baby. Always takin’ care of everyone. Lemme take care of you now.”

He eats you like he means it—slow, reverent, with just enough filth to make you cry out. He never stops touching your breasts, even as he licks and sucks your clit, his hands full of you, massaging and squeezing and occasionally dropping back to your nipples for another taste.

Your thighs are shaking. “I’m gonna—Rafe, I’m—”

“Yeah, you are,” he growls. “Come on, babygirl. Give it to me.”

You come with a choked moan, trembling all over, his name tumbling from your lips as he licks you through it. He pulls away only to crawl up your body, kissing every inch as he goes. You can feel him hard against your thigh, straining in his jeans.

“Take it out,” you whisper, still dazed. “Wanna see you.”

He does—slowly, like a reward. His cock springs free, flushed and dripping. He watches your eyes go wide and grins, settling between your legs, stroking himself while cupping one breast again.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “My pretty girl. My perfect mama.”

You reach up to touch him, but he pins your wrist to the couch cushion. “No, baby. Not this time. You just lay there and take it.”

You whimper, legs falling open for him. “Please, Rafe—”

He lines himself up and pushes in—slow, deep, like he’s savoring every second. You both moan at the stretch, the way your body gives so easily for him.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re always so tight for me. So wet.”

He sets a steady pace, hips rolling while he bends down to kiss your breasts again, licking away more milk as it leaks from you, moaning like he’s drunk on it.

“You were made for this,” he pants. “Made to be mine. Made to carry our baby.”

Your whole body is burning—overstimulated, full, loved so deeply you could cry.

“Ray—oh my god—”

“Shhh, I got you.” He holds your leg up, angling deeper. “Gonna come with me, sweetheart? Gonna give it to me again?”

You nod, nails digging into his back. “Yes—yes—”

He groans your name, slamming into you harder, then stills as you both come—him spilling inside you, face buried in your neck, you shaking from the intensity.

Afterward, he kisses your chest one more time, softly now. “Still worried they make you look big?”

You laugh breathlessly. “Not when you talk to them like that.”

He grins, hands still full of you. “Can’t help it. These titties are heaven.”

a/n: this one goes out to the girlies with big boobies who just wanna feel hot, soft, and so loved—because Rafe sees those big tits and thinks: jackpot. I had so much fun writing this, and I hope it makes you feel as adored and worshipped as you deserve 🫶🏻

♥️ lani

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violetcamryn · 2 days ago

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HTTYD NSFW ALPHABET - Snotlout Jorgenson (live action ver.)

Snotlout Jorgenson (live action version) x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

AN: For the sake of this post and all future HTTYD posts, Snotlout is at LEAST 18 years old (in my mind, he is early 20’s) . Wrote this because there is not nearly enough content out there for live action Snotlout (or even Snotlout x reader in general). Also darn you Gabriel Howell for re-igniting my HTTYD & Snotlout obsession

A = Aftercare: The KING of aftercare. He’ll run you a hot shower, then hop in with you and help you wash off. All while massaging your shoulders like his life depends on it. Then he’ll tuck you into bed and crawl in with you for the night.

B = Body Part (their favourite on you & on themselves): On himself, it’s his arms (shoulders included). He loves to flex in the mirror and flex to you anytime he gets. You definitely don’t mind though, because he is actually pretty built. On you, it’s your thighs. He loves to rest his head in your lap when you’re alone together, and he’ll just trace meaningless lines up and down your thighs with his fingers. He especially loves when you play with his hair as he’s laying in your lap. He’d never let anybody else see him this vulnerable, but you’re the exception.

C = Cum: INSIDE. I think this man might have a breeding kink…he absolutely loves hitting it raw.

D = Dirty Secret: He likes to be on the bottom every once in a while. He really enjoys when you’re on top, he’ll be looking up at you during sex with those big puppy dog eyes and just letting himself enjoy the moment. He also would not mind if you tied his hands up to experiment, he’s just not confident enough to ask for it yet. None of this is really a secret between the two of you, but it is most certainly a secret to everyone else.

E = Experience: He’s slightly experienced. He used to get around in his mid-to-late-teen years but he didn’t enjoy it much. He sort of saw it as a right-of-passage thing, but when he started dating you things really started to heat up. He’s learned quite a few tricks since you started having sex and he’s a very skilled man now.

F = Favourite Position: If he’s on top, d0ggy. He loves being able to grab your hips and waist while you’re getting it on, and plus he can get a better grip of your hair from behind (🤭). If he’s on the bottom, literally anything. He does not complain. He’s just happy to be there.

G = Goofy: Absolutely goofy at the right times. Definitely not all the time, but he lets a joke go every now and then. He enjoys it when you banter back to him too, it keeps him from worrying that he’s being TOO goofy.

H = Hair:

1) Upstairs He’s a hair puller. He doesn’t like his hair to be pulled, but you both enjoy it when he pulls yours. He would never do it if you weren’t comfortable though, but he knows you love it. However, he does love when you play with his hair after y’all are done having sex. The feeling of your fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp just does something to him.

2) Downstairs He keeps himself well groomed. Not necessarily clean-shaven but he likes it neat and tidy. He doesn’t care whatsoever about what you do with yours, he’s just happy to feel the touch of a woman.

I = Intimacy: He loves when it’s just the two of you in his room, curled up under the blankets, talking late at night. He cherishes those moments with his whole heart. It was hard for him to open up at the beginning, but you’ve slowly chipped away at his walls and now talking to you might just be his favourite thing. He also loves when you two have slow and intimate sex. When you spend time just feeling each-other and not rushing to the finish line.

J = Jerking Off: He used to (a LOT) before you started dating. But now he doesn’t see the point when he’s got such a beautiful girl. He’ll only ever do it if you’re away for a long period of time on some sort of mission. But it’s never the same and he always wishes it was you instead of his hand.

K = Kinks: PRAISE KINK. The moment you call him a “good boy” or tell him how good he makes you feel, he’s in heaven. He thrives on words of affirmation and affection.

L = Location: Anytime, anywhere, except in public. He will always be ready for whenever you want him. He won’t do anything in a public place (because that requires letting his guard down in front of people who aren’t YOU), but any private location he can find, you best believe y’all have fucked there before. His secret location fantasy would be in a secluded hot spring.

M = Motivation: When he sees you after a long day of dragon training, he is immediately in the mood. I mean when is he not in the mood? This man is down bad for his girl.

N = No’s: He will never hit you, even if you ask, it’s a hard line in the sand for him. He also would never be comfortable with having sex in a public space.

O = Oral:

Receiving He’s into it if you’re into it. He would never want to pressure you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with, but now that he knows YOU enjoy it, he’s all for it. Gets him turned on just thinking about it.

Giving This man is a MUNCH. I cannot see him any other way. He is down bad for his woman and will give and give to your hearts content.

P = Pace: Slow and sensual, or fast and furious. There is no in between for him. It really depends on both of your moods. Some days the only thing he wants is some slow intimacy, and there’s other times where he fucks like a mad man. He will be sure to cater to your wants and desires first and foremost though.

Q = Quickies: Depends. If he’s stressed out and needs to let the feelings out, he is absolutely into it. But most of the time he likes to take his time with you and not rush through. And honestly it’s hard to find a place in Berk that’s appropriately hidden for a quickie.

R = Risks: He is totally into experimenting with you, as long as it’s not one of his “no’s”. But role-play or restraints? Absolutely something he wants to try out.

S = Stamina: He can go multiple rounds most days, but there are some times where he’s just so exhausted from the days work that he’ll go one round, clean you both up, and fall right asleep. It’s not his fault you’re so nice to lay next to, he can’t help that he falls asleep so quickly.

T = Toys: N/A (we’re in viking times people, i’m not introducing medieval torture devices)

U = Unfair: Snotlout is a total tease. He’ll grab your ass in public when he thinks nobody’s looking, and he knows you love it. During sex he’ll ask you dirty questions when he knows you can’t focus enough to answer, just to show himself how good he’s making you feel. However you are also quite the tease. You’ll get him all turned on at an inconvenient time, and you’ll watch him try to focus on the task he was previously doing (and failing miserably now, because all he can think about is you).

V = Vocal: WHINY. I just know this man is vocal and whiny in bed. Deep breathing, grunting, begging, the works. Now that he’s comfortable with you, he makes plenty of noise. He loves when you make noise in bed too, it really turns him on and gives him motivation.

W = Wild Card: He gets wildly jealous when you’re sitting close with any of the other guys. Not like a toxic level of jealousy, just enough that it makes him squirm. Even though he knows neither you nor any of the boys would betray him like that. He’ll always find a way to squeeze in to the conversation and make it about how he’s big and tough (you think it’s hilarious).

X = X-Ray: Above average size in both length and width. Cut. Keeps it well groomed. Safe to say he’s around 8 inches.

Y = Yearning: A secret yearner. He’ll write poems to you and keep them in his journal, never to see the light of day. He wrote so many that he had to get another journal after only a month. He’ll also draw candid sketches of you when you go on dates, and he’ll hesitantly show them to you once he’s finished. You are always sure to praise his drawings every chance you get because they’re actually spectacular. Deep down, he’s always been a romantic. He’d be sure to show you off every chance he got.

Z = Zzz: If you’re playing with his hair, he’s out cold in 5 minutes flat. He used to have a lot of trouble sleeping but not since you two got together. Now he sleeps like a baby (as long as you’re sharing a bed).

Hope you enjoyed! I’m still VERY new to writing smut so i hope this wasn’t too bad or too much. Feel free to leave feedback in the comments, and reblogs are much appreciated 💗

PS. Snotlout is just a big ol’ softie in my mind. A softie with a hard outer shell. But he’s adorable. A lot of fluff in this post but hopefully there was also enough smut to please y’all 😚 i’ll make GN!reader and M!reader versions eventually too

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jakedustry · 3 days ago

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WHAT'S YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE? - SVT

SVT x gn!reader

word count 2.7k

↪ izzy adds... finally got to the seventeen version!! The colors might (definitely do) look funky if you're on dark mode like me but I was too lazy to change them soooo just pretend it looks awesome

txt ver. | enha ver. | svt ver.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL — act of service Cheol always loved being able to be helpful, no matter if it meant opening the door for you, carrying your bag, opening a jar, or even fixing your sink. It didn’t matter what it was—he just wanted to be there for you. And it’s not any different now, after dating for over a year.

“Let me help,” he says casually as he steps into the kitchen, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You smile, humming happily as you turn your head back and capture his lips with yours. “Sit down and let me do it, hm?” You melt under his touch, nodding slightly. He helps you on the kitchen counter, wanting you close as he takes over the dinner preparations, stealing kisses from you any chance he gets. You watch him with a smile, your heart beating faster as you watch him. Your boyfriend is perfect, there’s no doubt in that.

YOON JEONGHAN — words of affirmation Jeonghan is a tease. He’s always been one—from joking around with his friends and making them feel like he is making fun of them or lying when he is simply being honest, to teasing you just to see the blush on your face. But even though teasing is part of his personality, it doesn’t mean he can’t be serious as well. In fact, you’d say he knows how to have deep, serious, conversations more than anyone else you know.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure what I feel,” you mumble, holding back your tears as you bury your face in your boyfriend’s chest. It was a hard day, one that left you feeling numb. His hands wrap around you without hesitation, kissing the top of your head in reassurance. “That’s okay. It’s normal to feel like that sometimes,” he promises, his hand drawing gentle, careful, circles on your back. “You don’t have to feel anything either, you can just be.” Another kiss in your hair. “I get it. And I can feel for both of us.” Your heart flutters at his words, the tears finally escaping as you hug him back. “I love you,” you whisper and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “I love you, angel,” he answers without a second thought, reassuring you again that it’s okay and he isn’t going anywhere.

HONG JOSHUA — words of affirmation “I feel so lucky,” Joshua mumbles between kisses, the smile on his lips never leaving as his grip on your waist tightens and he pulls you closer. You giggle, playing with his hair as you kiss him back. Pulling back for just a second, you smile as you gaze into his eyes. “Why is that?” He kisses you again, tugging a few hair strands behind your ear. “Because of you,” he says, running his hand down your back. You shiver, kissing your way down his jaw. “Yeah?” — “Yeah,” he breaths out, tilting his head as you kiss his neck. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

Your grin grows wider and you raise your head again to look at him properly, your cheeks flushed red and lips swollen from all the kissing. He holds you close, his hand sliding under your shirt and sending a shiver down your spine when his cold fingers meet your skin. Your head falls down to his shoulder, hiding your face so he wouldn’t see how big of a mess you are just because of what he says. It’s safe to say you’re obsessed with Joshua Hong and the effect his words have on you.

WEN JUNHUI — gift giving There was a beauty to dating a singer. Everything has a bad and good side, of course. It wasn’t possible for everything to always go your way and there were moments where you got hurt for reasons that probably wouldn’t have occurred if you weren’t dating a singer, but the two of you always resolved it quickly. Because no matter what happened, Jun wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you.

It’s one of those days when you just want to stay in bed with your boyfriend and do nothing but you can’t because he has a performance. You understand it, he can’t do anything with his working hours, but it still stings when you wake up and there’s no one beside you, no matter how much your hand searches for him. You roll over onto your back, gazing at the ceiling for a while before finally getting out of bed to do something.

You don’t notice the front door opening, but what you do notice is the big bouquet that greets you as soon as you look up, covering your boyfriend’s face. “Good morning, love,” he says with a smile and you completely forget it’s already past lunch. Your face lights up even more when you see the note attached to the flowers, containing a few lyrics that warm your heart—lyrics just for you. Dating a singer is beautiful.

KWON SOONYOUNG — physical touch You rest your head in his lap, your eyes closing after the long day as you listen to the movie playing on the TV. Soonyoung carefully plays with your hair, his eyes watching you instead of the movie. You hum happily, letting yourself fully focus on his touch. Your breathing is steady as you feel the exhaustion slowly drifting off because of him, smiling. “Thank you,” you mumble and he bends down, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “No need,” he smiles, pulling back again. You shift in his lap, laying on your back now and watching him.

You both stare into each other’s eyes, your cheeks flushed. It’s quiet and intimate. He brushes a few hair pieces out of your face, smiling at you softly. “Do you feel better?” He wonders and you nod without a second of hesitation, intertwining your fingers with his as you hold his hand. “Much better. I love you.” He squeezes your hand, bringing it up to his face to place a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you.”

YEON WONWOO — quality time When Wonwoo first came up with the suggestion, you questioned him a lot. Why would you leave your phone at home while going on a date with him? It was still early into knowing him and for a second, you freaked out he just wanted to have the opportunity to kidnap you without anyone being able to track you down and so you asked your friends to come with you and sit on the sides to watch him.

But after your date ended, you fully understood it. Not having your phone while on a date was the best feeling ever. It felt much more comfortable and free, and you were able to focus all your attention on him without worrying about your friends chatting on your group chat and you not being able to look at it because it would be indecent towards your date.

It’s been a year and two months since that date, and you and Wonwoo are now in a happy relationship, continuing the tradition on every date and leaving your phones at home or turning them off so you can focus on each other without any interruptions. Every time you do, you think back to your very first date like this and thank yourself for not running away when you heard it and deciding to stick around instead. It was the best decision you could have made.

LEE JIHOON — quality time Jihoon is busy more than not. You want to say you’re used to it by now, but it still stings whenever you come home to an empty apartment or wake up alone in your bed. You know he has his responsibilities and work to focus on but you can’t help but feel a little selfish at times. It’s natural.

And so when you come home and see him sitting at the table in the living room, headphones on as he works on a new song from the comfort of your shared house because you complained about missing him the night before, your whole face lights up. He doesn’t notice you at first, clicking a few things on his laptop as you walk closer with a smile. You tap the table and his eyes meet yours, his lips turning into the smile you love so much. “Hi,” you greet him. “Hi,” he greets you back, pulling out a chair for you besides him. “Want to watch me? I’ll be done soon,” he says and you sit down, looking over his shoulder as he works. “I also ordered food for us. Dinner and a movie tonight?” — “Absolutely,” you nod, the smile on your face making it worth it all as he watches you.

LEE SEOKMIN — gift giving Seokmin wasn’t a big reader. He supported your love for books without a second thought since the day he met you but you couldn’t say you’ve ever seen him reading a book. You tried recommending him a few, some short ones he could laugh at, but you always thought he didn’t even look in the direction of any of the books you told him about.

You were so incredibly wrong. Ever since the day he found out you like to read, he’s gone out of his way to keep up with the latest releases, your favorite authors, and any events that could occur near. That was also why he always got you the perfect gift, no matter if it was your birthday, valentines day, christmas, or just a random Tuesday where he’d hand you a book because he thought about you on his way from work and went to a bookstore to get you something.

Today, though, he exceeded all your expectations. Not only did he remember your favorite book and gave you a special edition of it, but as soon as you opened it to see more of it, you noticed small notes on the sides, your eyes widening at the familiar handwriting. “I wrote down a few things that caught my attention or I liked. That’s how you do it, right? That’s how you’re supposed to annotate?”

KIM MINGYU — physical touch Mingyu always clearly showed people he loved them through hugs. No matter if it was his friends, family, or you. He was clingy, yes, but it only made you love him more. You love the feeling of his hugs, when his strong arms wrap around you so gently and his whole body covers you, his head resting on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent.

You giggle as he does exactly that, barely kicking off his shoes before his arms find you, squeezing you tightly. “Hi, baby,” you greet him, hugging him back and kissing his jaw. He hums back, picking you up with ease and making you wrap your legs around his waist. “Missed you,” he says, chasing after your lips as if his life depended on it. You let him, running a hand through his hair as you pull him closer, kissing him while he carries you into the kitchen. You don’t know if to kiss you more or prepare dinner, but you wouldn’t mind either.

XU MINGHAO — gift giving “What do you think?” Hao steps back so he doesn’t cover the painting with his body anymore. “Wow,” you exhale in awe, questioning how it’s even possible for your boyfriend to be so talented. You stare at the painting—painting of you—unable to get enough. It’s so beautiful, and you wonder what you did to deserve someone like him. “It’s… Gosh, baby, I love it so much,” you assure him, jumping down from your chair and rushing over to hug him. He chuckles as he wraps his arms around you, still holding one of his brushes.

You pull back, unsure of what to do with your emotions as you gaze into his eyes. You love him, you love him so deeply and unconditionally it hurts. “Beautiful painting for my beauty,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. You blush, still watching him as he pulls back and brushes his brush over your nose, giggling as he paints your pink. You giggle with him, trying to steal the brush from him and return the favor.

BOO SEUNGKWAN — quality time You and Seungkwan always went on a morning run before work. You started running back at the beginning of your relationship, and he saw it as a great opportunity to spend more time with you. Ever since, there hasn’t been a day he wouldn’t find time for you and your little workouts. It didn’t matter if you decided to do joga, go to the gym, or run a fucking marathon—he was always by your side for it.

Today wasn’t any different, not even when you decided to go for a run and watch the stars at 11pm like some crazy maniac.

Seungkwan huffs, trying to catch his breath as you reach the top of the hill. You laugh, resting your hands on your knees as you steady your breath as well, looking at the scenery in front of you. The stars are beautiful. Your boyfriend flops down on the grass, stretching out his legs and resting his hands on his sides as his gaze follows yours. You sit down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder and pointing at a few stars. “It’s so pretty.” You glance at him to see what he’s looking at just to find him already looking at you, your cheeks heating up, suddenly shy under his gaze. “Yeah…” you whisper.

CHWE HANSOL VERNON — act of service You close your eyes, trying your hardest to ignore the pain as you sit on a chair in your bathroom, your boyfriend right behind you. “I’m so, so, sorry,” he apologizes over and over again as he tries to untangle your hair, failing. You’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes already—twenty minutes of pure pain. Still, you’re grateful to him. Hasn’t it been for Hansol, you wouldn’t be done with even half of your hair.

He holds a section of your hair and brushes it with so much care you wouldn’t think it’d be able to cause you any pain. “We are almost done,” he assures you, eyes shutting close in regret as he sees you flinch. He hates causing you pain but he also knows it’d be much worse if he wasn’t helping, which is the only thing that makes him stay. He wants to help, even if it means tearing out half of your hair by accident. It doesn’t matter if he does—he’d still think you’re beautiful anyway.

“Thank you,” you exhale in relief as he finally puts the brush down and steps in front of you. “Anytime,” he answers, leaning in and closing the gap between you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

LEE CHAN — physical touch Waking up next to Chan always felt nice. Your legs still tangled from how you fell asleep last night, your faces just inches from each other and your breaths mixing together. You smile as you watch his sleepy form, gently brushing hair out of his face. He looks so peaceful, all you want to do is stay in bed with him forever and protect him from the world.

“Good morning,” he greets you as soon as he opens his eyes, his morning voice sending a shiver down your spine. You smile at him, cupping his cheek gently and bringing him closer. You press your lips against his as a good morning, giggling softly when his hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, your bodies now fitting together like puzzle pieces. He keeps his hand on your waist even as you pull back again, not letting go until you both decide to get up and he has to. Then still, he isn’t able to stay away for too long, his hands wrapping around you from behind in a warm embrace before walking with you into the bathroom.

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