#flustered reader

[captain-clueless]

More Dangerous Off the Field

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Avengers Doctor!Reader) SFW

Genre: Soft Slow-Burn, Flirting, Tension, Emotional Recovery, Hints of Romance

Summary: Being assigned to monitor Bucky Barnes’ recovery wasn’t supposed to affect you. But then again… you hadn’t seen the way he reattaches his arm.

Working with the Winter Soldier was supposed to be a career-defining moment.

You were the Avengers’ lead medical specialist—trusted to patch up wounds, assess injuries, and quietly observe from behind glass. You never expected to be placed on personal watch. But when James Buchanan Barnes was brought in, recovering from Hydra’s grip and his fractured past, everything changed.

It had been about a month now. You were tracking both his physical recovery and psychological stability, reporting closely to Steve and Natasha, and checking in daily. He was doing well—faster than expected. But there were still moments where his stare lingered too long on shadows, where his reactions flinched too sharply.

That’s why you were currently standing in your office above the training floor, watching him spar with Steve through the reinforced window.

He was fighting without his metal arm today—at your request.

You needed to see how he coped without it. Whether the muscle memory of the Winter Soldier kicked in… or if he was just a man defending himself. So far, he was holding his own. You made a note of it, fingers tapping at your tablet.

The match ended with Steve giving him a pat on the back. Bucky gave a breathless nod, walking over to the bench where his arm rested.

And then he did it.

In one fluid, practiced motion, Bucky grabbed the prosthetic by the bicep, swung it smoothly around his back, and locked it into place on his shoulder with a solid click.

Your knees went a little weak.

You had no business reacting like that, but the grace, the confidence in the motion—it did something. You swallowed thickly, heart skipping as you shifted your weight.

“You good, Doc?”

A voice behind you. You jumped.

Natasha stood leaning against your office doorway, arms crossed and smirking knowingly.

“I’m fine,” you said a little too fast, “I’m fine”

Nat’s eyes glinted. “Uh huh.” She looked through the glass toward the gym. “Might want to sit down next time. Just in case he really turns on the charm.”

You blinked at her, mouth slightly open.

With a teasing wink, she turned and walked away, leaving you pink-faced and flustered.

You looked back down to the gym—just in time to see Bucky glancing up at your window.

He caught your gaze and offered a little wave before toweling off and heading for the water dispenser.

You sighed and sank into your chair, rubbing your temples. Five minutes. That’s how long you had before he came upstairs for his post-session evaluation.

Spinning slowly in your chair, you pulled up his file and glanced at his photo.

You are a professional. You are not allowed to be affected by sharp jaws or broad shoulders or perfect goddamn eye contact.

Another sigh. You opened a new report and began typing your observations, noting stamina, coordination, emotional stability, restraint.

Just as you hit “Save,” a knock echoed on the door.

Right on schedule.

“Hey, Doc,” Bucky greeted as he stepped inside like he owned the place. He perched on the edge of your desk without waiting for permission, towel still around his neck, his dark hair damp with sweat.

“So,” he said, plucking a stress ball off your desk and giving it a squeeze, “I heard I’m more dangerous off the field than on it.”

You froze, blinking at your screen.

Your gaze flickered to him—only for a second—before returning to the monitor.

“And whom have you heard this from, Mr. Barnes?” you asked evenly.

He shrugged, still fiddling with the stress ball like it didn’t look like he was flexing on purpose. “Y’know. Words go around. Some redheads whisper things. And apparently… someone’s been a little distracted by my moves.”

Your brow arched. “Mr. Barnes, I’m concerned about your recovery, not your choreography. I should hope you understand I am strictly professional. Everything I do is for your health and safety.”

You stood, grabbing a stack of papers and aligning them neatly with a few taps on the desk before stapling them. A nice distraction.

But when you looked up, he was still staring at you with that maddeningly soft, amused expression.

“You sure you’re not secretly impressed, Doc?” he asked with a lazy smirk.

Your cheeks warmed. You turned quickly, walking over to the file cabinet.

“I see you’ve been making steady progress,” you said curtly, filing away the report. “Although I may have to keep you under observation longer if you keep imagining things. Hallucinations are rarely a sign of good mental health.”

You shut the drawer firmly and walked past him toward the door, trying to keep your voice level.

“Please excuse me, Mr. Barnes. I need caffeine.”

⸻

Coffee in hand, you returned ten minutes later, still trying to shake off the heat in your face. You pushed open your office door, half-prepping your next report in your head—until something shifted in the corner of your eye.

You flinched.

“Jesus Christ, Buck— Mr. Barnes,” you gasped, hand over your chest. “I thought you’d left. What are you still doing here?”

He didn’t turn. Still facing your wall calendar.

“Hey Doc,” he said casually, “you’re free Tuesday night, right?”

You raised a brow, stepping around him to place your coffee on your desk. “Why do you ask?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, and there it was again—that smile. Soft. Sweet. Completely unfair.

“I’ve got tickets to a new exhibition,” he said. “But I’m gonna look real lonely if I don’t have a date.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “This isn’t the 1940s, Mr. Barnes. People go alone all the time.”

He spun around and walked toward you with quiet determination, like a man on a mission.

Before you could say a word, he gently—so gently—lifted your chin with his fingertips. His touch was barely there, but it was enough to stop time.

“One night,” he murmured. “I promise it’ll be worth it. I’ll make it worth your time.”

Your breath caught. You stared at him, trying to muster some kind of resistance. Anything.

But your heart was already pounding in your ears.

You cleared your throat and stepped away, brushing invisible lint off your sleeve.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” you said, focusing very intently on your coffee cup. “I’ll be attending for medical purposes, of course.”

You walked briskly back behind your desk. “If that’s all, Mr. Barnes, you may leave. I’m quite busy.”

He chuckled lowly, clearly enjoying himself. He made it to the door, hand on the handle, then glanced back with a grin that could only be described as smug.

“I’ll pick you up at 6:30.”

Then he slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

You sat in stunned silence.

And then leaned back slowly in your chair, hands over your face as your heart thudded against your ribs.

What have I gotten myself into?

[kittytehe]

Crush

Pairing: College!Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary:

Being roommates with Emma means inheriting her best friend, Leon Kennedy—the effortlessly hot, annoyingly charming guy who somehow keeps ending up on your couch, in your kitchen, and in your head. You try to play it cool (you fail). He tries to ignore how cute you are when you’re flustered (he fails harder). chaotic college romance where awkward crushes, subtle flirting, and oat milk theft lead to something much sweeter.

wordcount: - 1,350 words

You knew moving in with Emma meant her chaotic social life would become yours by association. You just hadn’t expected him—Leon Kennedy, golden boy, criminally attractive, and your roommate’s best friend since high school—to start hanging out at your apartment like it was his name on the lease.

He wasn’t even subtle. One day he was shirtless on your couch with a controller in hand, yelling at some alien invasion game. Another day he was in your kitchen, eating cereal straight from the box, asking if “almond milk expires or just gets weirder.”

You did your best to keep it together. But your brain did this thing where it stopped working any time he spoke directly to you.

"Hey, you always smell like vanilla or cookies. Is that...on purpose?"

You had stared at him for a beat too long before mumbling, “I'm a dessert in human form,” and then immediately walked into the doorframe.

Subtlety, thy name was not you.

The worst part? He noticed.

One evening, Leon plopped down on the couch beside you, stretching his arm casually along the back. “So, uh... Emma says you’re taking Psych 203. How’s learning about the human mind going?”

You looked up from your laptop, trying not to swoon over his stupidly perfect jawline.

“Fascinating. Did you know people with crushes tend to act like total idiots around the object of their affection?”

He smirked. “Yeah, I’d heard that. From... science.”

There was a pause.

A knowing pause.

“You’ve been acting kinda weird around me lately,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Any theories on that?”

Your brain sprinted through a thousand escape routes, but your mouth betrayed you: “Maybe you’re just so pretty it short-circuits my ability to function.”

Silence. You wanted to melt into the couch and become one with the upholstery.

Then, Leon laughed—warm and genuine. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He nudged your shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think your ‘idiot mode’ is kinda cute.”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing. “So you knew?”

He shrugged. “I had a hunch. Emma may have also texted me a play-by-play the night you called me ‘a tall glass of emergency services.’”

You groaned. “I meant to say ‘emergency snack.’”

“That’s... not better.”

Leon’s fingers brushed yours. Just lightly. Like he wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. You stared at your hands, frozen, your brain screaming this is not a drill.

“So,” he said, voice a little quieter, “what happens next in this whole 'crush’ science experiment?”

You blinked. “Well. Typically… the subject either flees or confesses.”

Leon nodded solemnly. “And which one are you feeling?”

“…somewhere between flight and total emotional combustion.”

He grinned, biting back a laugh. “You really do say the weirdest things when you’re flustered.”

“You’re not helping,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind it. He was still close. Still looking at you like he was memorizing your face.

“I’m actually trying to help,” he said, softer this time. “Because, truth is—I’ve kind of had a thing for you, too.”

You blinked. “Is this a prank? Because if Emma jumps out with a camera, I swear to—”

“No prank,” he said, laughing. “Though I’m sure Emma’s waiting in her room with popcorn.”

As if summoned by name, her door creaked open and she peeked out, phone in hand. “Is it happening? Did someone confess? Are you guys gonna kiss or what?”

Leon rolled his eyes but smiled. “Emma, go away.”

“I live here!”

“So does your best friend,” he said, nudging you. ���And I’m trying to have a moment with them.”

Emma made a strangled squeal and shut the door with a dramatic thud.

The room went quiet again. Leon’s thumb lightly brushed your hand this time—definitely not an accident.

You smiled, cheeks warm. “So, you really like me?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were all sincerity. “I’m pretty sure I’ve liked you since the first time you yelled at me for drinking your oat milk. You called me ‘a menace with abs.’ It was… charming.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Nope,” he said, leaning in just a little more. “But I’d like to be around to keep quoting it back to you. If that’s okay.”

You looked up at him, heart pounding in the best way. “It’s more than okay.”

And when he kissed you—finally—Emma’s muffled cheer from behind the door didn’t even ruin it.

----------------

Leon’s POV – Three Days Earlier..

He wasn’t trying to fall for his best friend’s roommate. Really.

But the first time you mumbled something like “Leon Kennedy, walking thirst trap” under your breath—loud enough for him to hear as you tripped over your own shoelaces—something in his brain short-circuited.

He had smiled all the way home that night, even when he walked into a lamp post.

At first, he’d chalked it up to harmless flirting. A few jokes, some teasing, the occasional weirdly specific compliment (“Your hair looks like it belongs in a very clean action movie.” What did that mean?). But then he started noticing the little things.

Like how you always looked away when he caught you staring.

How you fidgeted when he sat too close.

How you always remembered how he liked his coffee, even though he’d only mentioned it once.

And how—when you laughed—it kind of echoed in his chest for longer than it should’ve.

That’s when he knew he was in trouble.

He tried playing it cool. Tried to act like he wasn’t low-key counting the days until Emma invited him over again. But then she caught him scrolling through your Instagram at work, and that was the end of that charade.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him. “They like you back, you know.”

Leon blinked. “What?”

“Leon. They call you things like ‘certified menace with a jawline’ when they think I’m not listening. Ask them out already.”

He spent two days psyching himself up. Day one: complete failure—he just asked if you had any ketchup. Day two: also a failure—he made it to the living room but chickened out and started a conversation about mushroom-based protein.

Day three, though? That was game day.

He flopped on the couch, started with casual banter, and fully expected to keep things surface-level until you dropped that whole “people act like idiots around their crushes” line.

His heart did something weird.

And when you called yourself a dessert?

Yeah. That was it. He knew he had to say something before he combusted—or kissed you mid-sentence, which, while tempting, might’ve been poor form.

But when you looked back at him with that hopeful, deer-in-headlights kind of smile?

He was gone.

Totally and completely.

[noobiestnoober]

Confessions, Crunches and Completely Unexpected Crushes (Chris X Reader)

What happens when your gym trainer finds your private journal—and your not-so-subtle thirst entries about him?

You’re new in town, awkward with weights, and totally smitten with the too-hot-to-be-real Chris Redfield. He’s professional, disciplined, and built like a Greek statue sculpted from pure intimidation. But when he stumbles across your diary and reads about “moaning during form correction” and “biceps as a spiritual awakening,” your sessions go from mildly flirty to a slow-burn firestorm of tension, blushing glances, and “accidental” touches.

He’s faced monsters, bioterrorism, and global crises. But now? He’s up against his toughest mission yet—resisting a woman who thinks he's the main course and the protein shake.

You’re new in town and finally work up the courage to sign up for the gym everyone raves about—the one with the state-of-the-art equipment, intense classes, and a gruff, no-nonsense trainer named Chris Redfield. He’s all business: serious, structured, and somehow still patient with you, even when you can’t tell a kettlebell from a dumbbell. Over the next few weeks, you start growing more confident—and more hopelessly flustered. Especially when he flashes that rare, crooked smile that makes your knees buckle.

One afternoon, Chris stumbles across a small leather-bound notebook you accidentally left in the locker room. Planning to return it, he flips it open to confirm it’s yours—only to discover it’s your journal. Inside are hilarious, heartfelt entries about your gym misadventures, awkward encounters, and, much to his surprise, your very detailed thoughts on just how attractive you find your trainer.

He tells himself to stop reading. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy. But then he sees the line:

"Pretty sure I accidentally moaned when he corrected my form. Please bury me in the squat rack."

From that moment, your workouts feel...different. Chris becomes quieter, more intense. His eyes linger a little longer; his hands pause just a moment more when adjusting your form. There’s heat under the surface. One day, after you drop your water bottle for the third time and stammer something about replacing all your fingers with thumbs, he corners you by the dumbbell rack and murmurs:

“Tell me, exactly how hot do you think I am?”

Cue the slow burn: lingering touches, flustered stares, tension so thick you could bench press it. Accidental run-ins outside the gym that feel suspiciously like fate. He helps you re-rack weights while trying not to look too amused. You swear you’re fine—until he brushes his hand over your back during a stretch and your soul momentarily leaves your body.

And Chris? He may be a battle-hardened soldier who’s faced down zombies, bioweapons, and the literal apocalypse—but nothing, not even his most dangerous missions with S.T.A.R.S. or the BSAA, prepared him for the challenge of falling for a woman who describes his arms as a “spiritual awakening.” And honestly? He’s absolutely here for it.

[tethered-in-time]

The Bonding Game 🔐

✨ New Fic Drop ✨ 🚨 Psychic cuffs, telepathic chaos, and a flustered reader trying not to combust.

It started with a nice trip to an alien carnival, but with one suspiciously charming vendor later, chaos ensues. The Doctor says it’s probably safe. Naturally, it’s absolutely not.

Cue one magical handcuff, zero warning, and a Time Lord who can now hear every single thought you never meant to say out loud.

🛸 Thirteenth Doctor x Female Reader 🥵 Rated E for everything you’ve been thinking 💛 Dom!Doctor, forced proximity, smut with feelings, emotional tension, and way too much blushing

👉 Read it on A03

[skyrigel]

You are Simon's bit of magic. Whatever happens Simon knows who to call.

His angel. His heart. His stress buster.

When you got the call in afternoon, waking slowly from the afternoon nap to see Simon face timing — you figured lil' interns stressed the hell out of your man.

"Bloody daft- oh, hi love." Simon turns back to look at you rubbing your eyes, his face lighting up with a grin.

"Hey... what's up?" You mumble quietly.

"Just -" he exhales, hard glare to whoever was there and soft eyes back to you. "I wanted to see m' pretty baby."

"Your pretty baby looks like shit." you chuckled at him, blinking to see clear the red spot on your cheek because you slept sideways, hair a bloody nest.

"Don't be a meanie to my angel." Simon says tenderly, his lips tug slightly at one side and he hums a small, 'huh' to get you giddy in stomach.

You could see his face relaxing finally.

"Idiots pissing off my soldier?"

Simon gave a small pout, just the barest, and nodded to you. Then he brings the phone closer to his face and doesn't even turn around to check who is looking or not before placing a kiss which you could assume might be your nose tip on his phone.

"I love ya, lovie." he whispers closely. It tingles all your insides at once.

"I love you too." you told him, then with a smirk that always drove him crazy - "You are so stressed Si baby, gotta release when ya come home tonight."

Simon flustered.

"Riley, c'mon they got better now." someone said around him.

Simon brought the phone closer like he was grabbing your chin and growling in your ear, making every word vibrate through you.

"Sleep some more missus, ya might not get any tonight."

Noted. Positive.

Masterlist

[eraserbread]

it's just one of those things... your husband, nanami, likes you close.

but, your husband is actually a very sane individual and decides its best not to keep you leashed down. however, it didn't make it easier when you brought up the idea of visiting your family during the spring.

nanami loves your family, but he loves them in his way. he loves them from far, far away—perhaps not even a phone call away, just a yearly birthday card kind of closeness. It's not an energy he wishes to be around.

but, he wants whatever makes you happy, so he lets you go for a week.

a grueling, seven-day week. one filled with work, overtime, stress and anger, all to an empty house to crawl back to. it's okay -- its all he can tell himself as he tucks into bed lonely as hell.

he wills himself to sleep, begging his mind to leave you alone. let you have your space without his voice in your ear. he thinks you want this -- this... disgusting silence.

little did he know, you were five cities away waiting by the phone.

just waiting. hoping at least a good night text would fall your way. you know he's up thinking about you. he has to be.

so, when you get home a week later. you're pissed and touch starved and nanami starved. you had a mind to let him have it, to spew everything you've been pining over while he's been too busy to text or call.

it also doesn't help that you got home four hours before him, having time to cool down and shower off. a part of you wants to call him -- perhaps he's getting drinks or dinner with a friend, but if he didn't contact you for a week, you'd be sure not to contact him. its the only way you know how to teach him.

he arrives home when you're wrapped in your pajamas, glass of wine in your hand, and waiting for this exact moment.

"welcome home, my beautiful wife."

he begins, and it brings a small smile to your face. it's already seeming like he's redeeming himself. "you know I love you."

"really? i don't know... just thought i'd see it more when we're apart," you mumble, chewing on your lip over the rim of your glass. you can't see nanami's expression, but you can feel the quirk in his brow - the tightness in the corner of his lips.

"well, don't be vague. you're mad at me." he knows, yet he's still so calm. you refuse to glance back at him, even when he's taking off his shoes and pulling off his tie. it's something you'd usually help him with. this time, you help yourself to your wine.

"look, a week apart did us both a world of good, I promise you."

"yeah? would your hand agree with you, there?"

he laughs. "not everything's about sex, dear. I'm capable of holding out for a week." another wordless sip of your wine, and he's approaching you. "but, just because I can, doesn't mean I want to go into day eight without it."

it takes every fiber of your soul to say, "'m sorry, nanami. i'm just not in the mood tonight."

if you didn't know him so well, you wouldn't have caught the slight twitch in his brow at the news. however, he takes it well with a small smile on his face. "of course. i'll be in my office."

you sip your wine, cursing him internally for his politeness. he could have anything he wanted from you if he just said it. but, he never will. if its your will to go to bed without giving yourself to him, then so be it. he won't beg at your feet like a child.

but... what if you wanted him to?

you're not keeping track of time anymore, but you feel renewed with a headful of wine and time spent with nothing but thoughts of him. it's genuinely unnerving to you just how in love you are. nanami is so gentle, strong, beautiful and polite. it fucking makes your head spin.

then, you feel like a monster..

the feeling wills one foot in front of the other, all the way to his office door. it's not closed, just cracked. golden desk lamp lighting spills out into the hall in rectangular designs. you find yourself fixating on it in your drunkenness.

the door squeaks as you push it open, and you peek inside to see where he was amongst the organized chaos of books and work papers.

"ken?"

surprisingly, he's not staring right back at you. he's face down over his desk, resting so that you can't see his face—only the back of his head and all his disheveled blonde hair.

when you approach, he stays completely still. worry begins brewing in your chest.

"you know you can come to bed..." you whisper, leaning against the side of his desk. his pretty eyes flutter open at the softness of your voice and touch, quirking a smile.

"didn't think i could lay next to you and keep my hands to myself." he sits up into your hand, shivering as you massage over his scalp. he's like a little orange kitten, nudging your hand with sleepy eyes.

"don't you dare go ghost on me for a week ever again. do you know how obsessed I am with you?"

"i can guess." he chuckles softly, swallowing something down as he looks up at you. "I'm so sorry. just figured you would want your time to yourself."

"that doesn't mean you can't text me."

"then, i'm throwing my hands up and taking my wrongs." there he goes again, not even so much as debating his reasoning; he just wants you. if being the bad guy means he can lay down his gorgeous, tipsy wife, he'll be the worst person in the world.

there's newfound speed behind his actions as he spins his chair around, reaching out to grab you by the hips. it's so fluid and familiar, but it gets your pulse racing, the beat between your thighs mimicking the rhythm of his heart. he's so close to everything -- to you, to all of it.

he kisses your tummy where the hem of your shirt kisses the waistband of your shorts. he's breathing you in, memorizing the sound of you, it seems. your hands find the back of his neck, thumbing circles into the fuzz, there. it's a moment he'd never speak about again, but the ones you cherish the most. he just holds you. like, it's been over five minutes now...

"i'm sorry. i love you so much."

he nods into your stomach, kissing the ticklish sliver of bare skin there. you're dewy with the after-breath of him, but you love the warmth. you want him back when he pulls away.

"i love you." he nods, giving you those eyes when he looks up at you. your heart fucking pummels and rushes through your body, nearly bringing tears to your eyes -- he's so beautiful. "and I love this fabric on you."

"please. please take it off, kento. i love you so fucking... so fucking much." you're breathless already, and all he's done is kiss you. it's a little embarrassing, but neither of you care. tomorrow morning when he kisses you awake, you'll shrug off your demeanor on the alcohol but you weren't that drunk. you just missed him.

"take it off, please. take it off..."

"huh?"

"please, don't fucking tease me i'm so horny right now. nanami kento, i love you so much, please."

"wow, girl." he trails his lips to your waistband, taking it between his teeth shortly. "are you begging for it?"

"fuck my pride, i don't have it with you anymore." you gasp, tightening your fist in his hair to lead him just... down. of course, he's too fucking strong. he doesn't budge. "kentooo-"

he stares up with wide eyes for just a second longer before giving in. he mumbles, "all right, all right." just before yanking your shorts and taking you apart. he drives his chair forward as he slides open your cunt on two fingers, showing you his tongue and diving in. he's done this hundreds of times, but you'll never be used to the feeling.

he knows every inch of your body - how you vibrate when he flicks your clit that one way or dips his tongue the other. he has your orgasm down to a science, but he still takes his time massaging around your labia, kissing the crook between your thighs.

you were already so close, you cuss. "fuck - what ar- what are you doing?!"

"if you would just have some patience," he responds vaguely, holding your thigh and kissing across the inside. with rushing breaths, you try to calm down, swallowing as you watch him. "you were about to finish, I could tell."

"so, you stopped?"

"i know you've been drinking... so you won't last past this round." of course, only he would know that and actually apply logic to it. it hits you dumbfounded. "I'm selfish. just wanted you to cum when I'm inside a'you."

there's absolutely nothing you can say to translate your thoughts, all you can do is breathe out a shaky moan. you were so fucked off of his tongue, right now.

"desk? bedroom? hm?"

or

you want me to fuck you on my desk or in our bed?

bed sounds better, that way you can pass out immediately afterwards. your mind swims thinking about being back in his arms tonight.

it seems you said that out loud, because he gives you a small smile, then carries you all the way to your bedroom.

he fucks you slow and deep tonight, letting you rest on your back as he held your legs over his waist. you're mewling in reaction, biting down on the inside of your wrist to keep the embarrassment at bay. nanami's being so devious, fucking you like this. he knows it'd take you longer to cum, but he wants that.

he wanted to savor this. you. all of it. all he can do as he stares down at you is admire. he loves the way your breasts rise and fall with each shaky breath. he loves the way your neck dips every time he hits that spot or touches you there.

inside of your warmth is home for him. he just loves you so fucking much that you're the only thing on his mind when he cums alongside you.

he even thinks his left eye drops a tear when he collapses in bed with you. though, he'd never, ever admit it.

then, he kisses the top of your head as you drift away into spinning dreams and whispers:

"god, what did i ever do before you?"

[uncannydevotion]

“ we haven't found one lipstick that's kiss proof! ”

a/n: based on tht one art meme going around iykyk anyways happy holidays, and merry christmas if u celebrate! nd happy day to everyone else! enjoy this lil gift <3 i wanted to get it out today so it might b a little rushed, and definitely shorter than i would like but i still like it so. i'm posting it.

includes: homicidal liu, eyeless jack, jason the toymaker, nina the killer, and jeff the killer.

warnings: gn!reader but it's assumed u wear lipstick, italics my beloved, so much fluff it'll make u sick, lots of kissing. is kiss even a word anymore. it's short, with varying different lengths, and it's sweet this time for real i promise.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Perhaps a bit confused when you ask him to help find some kiss proof lipsticks, but nonetheless willing to help. He just assumes you wanted to go out to a cosmetic store or something to find some.

He's very confused when you drag him over to the couch and tell him to stay put while you gather every tube of lipstick you have.

He's oblivious guys okay you're his first relationship ever how is he supposed to know you're about to smother him to death with kisses?

Liu will be a bit caught off guard when you place the first kiss on his cheek, your lips gentle, mindful of the sensitive skin surrounding his scars.

"What was that for?" He'll ask. And maybe you'll give a cheeky smile and respond with something like, "I'm just testing out my lipstick, babe."

And oh. Oh. That's what you meant when you said you wanted his help.

Liu is nothing if not the greatest boyfriend haver, so even though he gets increasingly more flustered with each kiss you press against his skin, he stays painfully still so as to not interrupt you.

Every time you pressed a kiss against his skin, he'd let out a little sigh. It was rare for him to ever really feel at ease, but it came easy with you.

Sometimes, he wonders if you truly understood the gravity of the love he felt for you.

Each kiss makes his heart race faster and faster, so much so that when you place one last kiss against his lips, he's so overwhelmed by the amount of love he holds for you that Sully thinks he's fucking dying and takes over.

Sully is very confused when he finds that Liu was, in fact, not dying. And you're certainly no help, just smiling and telling him to wash his face off as you clean up.

What.

One look in the mirror gives him the answer he was looking for. His entire face was covered in lipstick stains. This is what had Liu's heart racing so much? Sully really thought he was dying, man.

Turns out the guy is just an idiot in love.

EYELESS JACK

One of the only ones here to really understand what you meant when you asked him for help in finding a kiss proof lipstick, already taking his mask off.

He didn't have anything better to do, and he liked how your eyes lit up when he agreed, so.

He'll sit patiently, watching as you set out all of your lipsticks, setting them out in a color-coded pattern.

Jack will take this very seriously, I think. You won't really be able to get him flustered, because he's determined to figure out if you have any kiss proof lipstick. He's a man on a mission.

Every time you kiss him, he'll pull away from you and look at himself in a mirror to study how visible the stain is. The less he can see it, the better he thinks the lipstick is.

If anything, he'll end up flustering you from the way he'll grab your cheeks and press his thumb against your lip, rubbing the lipstick gently to see how much pressure it takes for it to transfer.

He's not doing this on purpose, he just... doesn't realize the effect he has on you. But between you and me, he's 100% teasing you.

He's the one covered in kisses, and yet you're the one shying away from him and getting all embarrassed. Seems your plan to fluster him backfired.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" You would ask.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You're the one who asked for help." Would be his response.

Somehow you end up with more marks on your skin than he does?? Since you get to kiss him a bunch, he doesn't see why he can't kiss you back. And maybe he bites a lil, idk.

This will either end with you scurrying away, or with him pouncing you and abandoning the lipstick. Make your choice.

JASON THE TOYMAKER

He's busy tinkering with a new creation when you enter his workshop carrying every single lipstick you own.

He's too focused on his own work to really pay attention to you, so he just mutters a vague 'yeah' when he hears you ask a question, not really catching anything you said.

Jason's only vaguely aware that you're in the same room as him as he leans forward, brows pinched together as he focuses on stitching up a small stuffed animal.

It's not until he feels you resting your hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly and pressing a kiss against his cheek that he's brought to reality.

Just sits there, confused for the longest second, his hand coming up to his cheek where he had felt your lips. He's not against the sudden affection by any means, he's just a bit curious as to why you were suddenly giving him so many kisses.

When you explain how you're trying to find kiss proof lipstick, he lets out a small 'oh' and he goes back to his work.

Or, at least, he tries to get back to his work.

But you continue placing little kisses against his skin every few minutes, and it's making it really hard to focus, and he can feel his face getting hotter and hotter the longer this goes on.

Jason fucking loves you, okay? He tells you it multiple times a day. You are the one for him. So you smothering him with a bunch of kisses has him feeling all soft and gooey inside.

Whatever the hell he was working on before was no longer important to him, his gaze now seemingly glued to you and every little move you make as he leans back in his chair, basking in your attention.

Like hell he'll let you leave when you run out of lipstick.

You doomed yourself the moment you walked into his workshop to even start this little game.

He'll be dragging you down onto his lap and will refuse to let you go until he's had his fill of you. Which could be like... all day. Jason could never get tired of you.

NINA THE KILLER

Hell yeah!! She's been meaning to go through her lipsticks too, so she takes this as an opportunity to do that.

She definitely makes it into a game as well, I think.

You two will trade lipsticks without looking at the labels, and you'd both have to guess who was wearing what lipstick based on the shade and the feel.

The two of you trade kisses, lipstick stains covering her cheeks and your jaw and neck.

She really did just want to find a kiss proof lipstick, but each kiss had her letting out a small giggle.

And she knew you were teasing her, always leaning in for her lips before dodging and pressing another kiss against her cheek.

All that teasing had her feeling flustered, and she just wanted you to stop messing around and kiss her lips already. So when you put on a new thing of lipstick, she doesn't even give you a chance to do anything before she's pulling you closer and slamming her lips against yours.

You probably planned for this to happen, she thinks, but she didn't really care much.

You don't need an excuse to kiss her silly, you just gotta do it.

And when the two of you finally break the kiss, you're both breathless. Lipstick stains your skin, and both of your lips were smeared.

Nina didn't even care about the little game you two had been playing anymore, her hands resting on your cheeks.

She thought you looked stunning like this.

And it's not like you two had any pressing matters to attend to, so she didn't hesitate before leaning in for another kiss.

JEFF THE KILLER

When you had asked him for help with finding a 'kiss proof' lipstick, he honestly didn't understand why. Like... did you want him to put the lipstick on and kiss napkins with you? And why would you need his help doing that anyways?

He would've said no, if you hadn't asked really nicely.

Definitely grumbling about how dumb he thought this was as you get everything together.

Someone would probably assume you had a gun to his head or something from the way he looked as if he didn't want to be there, arms crossed and somehow frowning even though his scars made it look strange.

It really isn't until you place the first kiss against his cheek that he finally shuts up.

Oh. So this is what you had planned?

Truth be told, Jeff wasn't that big a fan of affection unless he was initiating it, but... he supposes he could let it slide, just this once. Especially after you press another kiss to his cheek.

You could never get this man to admit that he's enjoying this, but it's not like he was doing a good job at hiding it, either.

The frown he had was gone, replaced by a smile he was barely able to conceal. Do not point out the smile, he will leave the room if you do.

Each kiss you give him makes his heart race faster and faster, and when you're wiping off the last lipstick you have, talking about how you've yet to find a kiss proof one, Jeff is an utter mess.

He's got his face buried in his hands, cursing to himself for being so weak when it came to you.

Fuck, he really loves you.

[cherrikeys]

rafayel and his instant bedroom eyes, slow smirk and teasing words. his "oh? this intense?" while he oh so conveniently lets the grape roll down his body. you know what i mean? rafayel who probably takes any opportunity he can to stretch his arms up so his shirt rides up in front of you, or purposefully leans back on the couch, to spread his legs slightly and look real comfortable.

i'm sure he obnoxiously sighs long and deep and pouts whenever you're not looking at him directly. and you gotta be careful giving him a water bottle, because of course he loves to let water drip out of his mouth whenever you're around. rafayel also can't help but purposefully take his belt off in front of you, when he's getting ready for a quick clothing change, or a swim, or just because he's home and he should be comfortable, right?

anyways. rafayel and his obsession with seducing you.

[cacaocheri]

i need them equally obsessed with each other

[anis-sketches]

what a great start am i right guys?

their getting along so good

< prev [master post] next>

little message. thank you all for the support part 1 got. it motivated me greatly. i probably wouldnt have finished this with out all the nice comments. thank you sooooo so much <3

[aventurineswife]

Can I geeeeet Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Ratio waking up with their s/o (male reader please?) after an “eventful” night and the reader apologizing profusely for how many marks he ended up leaving?

“We Made Love, and I Bear the Proof”

Tags: Alhaitham x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Male!Reader, Established Relationship, Post-Intimacy Fluff & Teasing, Suggestive Themes, Light Angst (Guilt/Shame Over Marks), Banter & Playful Arguments, Mutual Affection & Possessiveness, Soft/Teasing Dom Energy (Alhaitham & Ratio), Flustered/Subtly Needy Energy (Kaveh), Morning After Vibes, Physical Affection & Gentle Comfort.

Warnings: Suggestive Content (Mentions of intimacy, marking, and possessiveness, but no explicit smut), Marking/Biting/Scratches (Characters are covered in hickeys, bite marks, and scratches from the previous night), Mild Alcohol Mention (Kaveh’s piece briefly implies he might’ve had a drink the night before), Light Power Dynamics (Ratio & Alhaitham being smug/teasing about being marked up, Kaveh being flustered about it), Mild Swearing (Casual cursing in dialogue).

A/N: I may have went a bit overboard... Whoops-🧍‍♀️

The early morning light filtered through the curtains of Alhaitham’s bedroom, casting golden hues across the sheets. The crisp Sumeru air carried the scent of sandalwood and ink—his usual. The warmth beside you remained steady, unwavering, even as you stirred.

You blinked blearily, still hazy from the eventful night before, and shifted slightly. That was when you noticed them—faint scratches trailing down Alhaitham’s toned back, deep red marks along his throat, and a particularly dark bruise blooming just above his collarbone.

Your stomach dropped. "Shit."

Alhaitham’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze already fixed on you like he had woken long before you. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something smug in the way his fingers traced absentmindedly along your wrist, as if committing the weight of you to memory.

"I'm so sorry," you groaned, face buried in your hands. "I—uh, I didn’t realize I got that carried away—”

"Clearly," he cut in smoothly, voice still thick with sleep. "But I don’t see why you’re apologizing."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "Because you look like you got into a fight with a particularly aggressive lion—and lost."

Alhaitham hummed, finally sitting up, the sheets pooling at his waist. He stretched, his toned torso catching the morning light in an unfairly appealing way, before he turned his head slightly to observe the marks you had left on his skin.

Then, in a tone far too nonchalant for the situation, he smirked. "If anything, I’d say it’s a victory."

Your face burned. "Alhaitham."

"You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands to yourself," he reminded you, shifting so that his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. "And now you’re embarrassed?"

"I wasn’t trying to maul you—"

"Hm. Could’ve fooled me."

You groaned, shoving your face against his shoulder in sheer mortification, but the warmth of his skin, marked by you, only served to make you more flustered. His chuckle rumbled in his chest, sending a shiver down your spine.

"It’s fine," he murmured, fingers threading lazily through your hair. "Besides, I like the reminder."

His lips brushed against the fresh mark on your neck—the one he had left in return. A possessive streak glinted in his gaze when he pulled away.

"Now, are you planning to take responsibility for them, or shall I return the favor?"

You swallowed thickly. Oh, fuck.

The soft glow of morning bathed the room in warm gold, but the real warmth was beside you—Kaveh, tangled in silk sheets, his hair fanned out like the most intricate masterpiece ever crafted.

He looked peaceful, lips parted slightly in his sleep, his breathing steady. And then—oh.

Your eyes trailed down his bare skin, and guilt punched you in the gut. His porcelain skin was covered in evidence of last night—deep, dark bruises along his neck, light scratches ghosting over his shoulder blades, and a particularly harsh bite mark at his hip.

You barely had time to process it before Kaveh stirred, blinking sleepily at you with those vibrant eyes. He stretched with a soft groan, his arms raising above his head, exposing more of your handiwork.

Your guilt doubled. "Shit—Kaveh, I—"

His gaze followed yours, and when he spotted the marks littering his skin, his face exploded into color. He immediately yanked the sheets up, flustered beyond belief.

"You—!" His voice cracked, and you had never seen him this red before. "You—look at what you did!"

"I'm so sorry," you rushed out, hands raised in surrender. "I—uh—I wasn’t thinking—"

Kaveh buried his face in his hands, groaning in a mix of mortification and something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"I look like a damn canvas!"

"You are an artist’s muse," you teased, earning a weak swat to the arm.

"Don’t flatter yourself," he mumbled, voice muffled. Then, after a pause, his hands lowered just enough for his eyes to peek through his fingers. "...You really got carried away, huh?"

"I didn’t mean to—"

"You bit me, you menace!" He gestured dramatically to the mark at his hip, and you covered your face in shame.

"I’ll make it up to you," you promised, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder in silent apology. Kaveh sighed, still visibly flustered, but he didn’t pull away.

"You better," he huffed. Then, quieter, "But... maybe I didn’t totally mind."

Oh? You grinned against his skin. "Noted."

Morning arrived in quiet stillness, but your mind was not at ease.

Ratio, the insufferably intelligent, sharp-tongued man currently lying next to you, was covered in proof of your inability to control yourself. His skin was marred with bruises—your fingerprints at his waist, faint bites trailing up his chest, and a particularly deep mark at the base of his throat.

You were so fucked.

"Uh..." You swallowed. "Ratio, I—"

His striking eyes, sharp even in the haze of sleep, cracked open. He studied you in silence, gaze flickering down his own body as he took in the damage.

Then, in a voice infuriatingly even, he mused, "Fascinating."

You choked. "Fascinating?"

"Your enthusiasm last night was... excessive." He traced a faint bruise at his wrist, lips twitching slightly. "But I’ll admit, the empirical evidence is intriguing."

"Ratio, I practically mauled you!" You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "I—fuck—I got carried away—"

His amused hum interrupted you. "So, you’re apologizing?"

"Obviously?"

Ratio tilted his head, violet strands falling over one eye as he considered you. His lips curved ever so slightly.

"Then allow me to pose a counterargument," he murmured, leaning in, his breath warm against your ear. "If you were truly remorseful, you wouldn’t be looking at me like that again."

You froze, heat crawling up your neck.

Shit.

Ratio chuckled, the sound like silk and steel. "What? Cat got your tongue?"

You scowled, shoving him back onto the mattress in sheer frustration.

"You are insufferable."

"And yet, you seem to enjoy suffering." His smirk deepened. "Shall I prove that hypothesis?"

You barely had time to react before he flipped the situation entirely—pinning you against the sheets, his sharp, knowing gaze drinking in every ounce of your flustered state.

You were so, so screwed.

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[shouyuus]

here's a thought:

bartender!vi x flower shop!reader

where bartender!vi is always closing shop when you're setting up right across the street from the last drop and she always sees you, pushing open your old fashioned french windows, an apron gathered around your waist as you set up the outdoor arrangements.

one of these days, she thinks she'll go over to ask for a flower (or your number), or just to buy you a drink. one of these days, she's gonna gather up the courage to do it. but today... she thinks she'll just content herself with watching (yet again), with wondering what your name might be, dreaming about if you'd smell like flowers, if your smile would look just as beautiful.

she doesn't know that every evening, when you're closing shop and the last drop is turning on it's lights and she's busy helping vander carry in the stock for the night, you're watching her through those vast french windows, wondering if her laughter is just as intoxicating as a shot of whiskey, if her eyes might be bourbon-bright beneath the haze of a busy bar.

one of these days, you think, you'll go over there and... say hi. ask for her to make you her favorite drink (or just her number). one of these days. but --

not today.

[zorostitties]

i read many fics in which luffy is shy around his s/o or struggles to confess. and i mean, yeah, adorable, i see that many people like the idea of luffy being a cute ball of sunshine.

BUT the idea i like more is that IF luffy would ever develop feelings for anyone, he’d be boringly direct about it.

no big moment where he realizes he likes them. he kind of always knew and he kind of didn’t care. no blushing, no stuttering or anything. he wouldn’t even act that different around the person he likes, showing just very very subtle hints that just someone who knows him intimately would pick on.

until some random day someone would ask him about it - most likely usopp - to tease him or make a joke and luffy would just send him the no braincells look - with his mouth probably full of meat - and be like yeah, i like them.

usopp would gag. the whole crew would gag.

because luffy just confessed his feelings without giving two shits about it. no one even knew he could look at someone like that.

and he’s so casual about it because - well, his s/o likes him back. he kind of always knew. it’s always been kind of obvious. so why worry about it?

[nanamisgirly]

nanami kento was a man of precision.

every decision calculated, every action efficient—whether it was handling business reports, managing exorcisms, or making his morning coffee just right. he prided himself on knowing things, on understanding the inner workings of whatever he dedicated his time to.

so, when he found himself utterly, hopelessly obsessed with you— your body, your pleasure, the way you melted under his touch—he approached it the only way he knew how : research.

which was why he was currently sitting in his living room, highlighter in hand, brow furrowed in deep concentration, flipping through the pages of 'The Modern Man's Guide to Pleasuring Women' like it was a business report.

his lips pressed into a firm line as he read aloud under his breath, “the cervix can become more sensitive during arousal, and deep stimulation—when done correctly—can induce a different type of orgasm.” he hummed in approval, nodding as he underlined the passage. noted. he even marked the page with a sticky note. how cute.

nanami was so engrossed in his studies that he didn't hear the front door open, nor the sound of your footsteps padding through the hallway. “nanami, i'm back!” you frowned at the silence that welcomed you. usually, he greeted you the moment you walked in, peppering your face with kisses— ever the gentleman. but today? nothing. 

the living room light was on, though, so you quietly stepped inside, excited to surprise him. after all, you were home earlier than expected!

as you approached the couch, you caught sight of him—brow slightly furrowed, golden lashes casting soft shadows over his cheeks, his posture hunched as he scribbled something in the margins of his book. 'taking notes?'

curiosity got the better of you. you crept forward, slowly and then— “BOO!!”

nanami jolted, sucking in a sharp breath as he slammed the book shut, but it was too late— you saw. your eyes caught a glimpse of the highlighted passages and the little annotations he had made. 

and the page the page he had just been reading? oh. oh. a very detailed illustration of a couple— the man eating out the woman as his hands were pushing her thighs on her breasts, keeping them open. your lips curled in amusement. 

“kento…” you purred, fighting back a grin. “what's that?” 

nanami shot up so fast he nearly knocked over his cup of tea, shoving the book behind his back as he faces you. “i—” his voice failed him. your smile only grew as you crossed your arms over your chest, tilting your head. “nanami," you repeated, voice teasing, ”what exactly were you studying so hard, huh?"

he stiffened, shoulders locked in place as if he were facing down a high-stakes negotiation instead of his very amused girlfriend. his fingers fidgeted around the edges of the book behind his back, grip tightening like it was his last lifeline.

“i…i was simply…” he cleared his throat, adjusting his tie out of sheer habit, but his voice still came out strained. his eyes darted to the ceiling, the bookshelf, the floor—anywhere but at you. his usual composed demeanor was crumbling right in front of your eyes, and it was the cutest thing ever.

“you were simply what?” you pressed, stepping closer. he backed up instinctively, only to bump against the coffee table, effectively trapping himself. you gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “ohhh, wait, don't tell me—” you peeked behind his back, catching another glimpse of the book's title before he quickly shifted to block your view. “the modern man's guide to pleasuring women?” you looked up at him, eyes practically sparkling. “nanami kento, are you studying how to make me feel good?”

his ears were fully red now, and his jaw clenched—then relaxed, then clenched again—as he desperately tried to maintain any shred of dignity. “i— that is not—” he sighs in defeat, eyes fixed firmly on the ground as the flush creeps down his neck “it's simply for informational purposes,” he mumbled, voice uncharacteristically high.

you giggled, stepping even closer, and he sucked in a sharp breath, clearly short-circuiting at your proximity. “ken,” you whispered, reaching up to trace your fingers along the collar of his button-up. he visibly shivered.

“i—i j-just wanted to be…” he exhaled shakily, finally meeting your gaze for a brief second before looking away again, as if eye contact alone would kill him. “…thorough.”

your heart swelled. god, he was so adorable. you could devour him right now. “but you already make me feel amazing,” you reassured, running your fingers up to cup his burning cheek. he practically melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tried to compose himself.

“that doesn't mean i shouldn't strive for improvement,” he admitted softly, his voice so low it was barely audible. you couldn't take it anymore, your heart was on the verge of exploding due to his cuteness.

you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face against his chest. you could feel his heart racing.

“kento,” you cooed, looking up at him through your lashes. “you're so sweet. and you're adorably cute when you're shy.” his hands hesitantly found your waist, but his eyes still refused to meet yours. he sighs in resignation, pressing his lips together.

“…are you done teasing me?” he muttered.

“never,” you stand on your tiptoes, brushing a lingering kiss against his cheek. “look, if you're sooo dedicated to your studies…” you slid your hands down his chest, fingers curling around his belt loops. “maybe we should put all that research to good use, mhh? what 'bout that?”

nanami let out the softest, most defeated, exhale before gently, but firmly, pulling you flush against him. his hands were warm, his touch grounding. “i suppose a practical demonstration would be beneficial,” he murmured, voice finally steady— until you grinned up at him and whispered, "i expect a full presentation, Mr. Nanami."

that earned you the deepest groan of embarrassment before he swiftly scooped you up, carrying you toward the bedroom— where he fully intended to prove just how thorough of a student he really was.

a/n i want to write it for nerdjo as well 🙂‍↕️ let me know if you are interested!!

[eraserbread]

satoru gojo is a pervert.

he knows it, you know it, and suguru definitely knows. in fact, they feed off of their perversions and fantasies but have become much more modest in their early forties.

what gojo loves seeing the most, is the pictures suguru sends him throughout the day. he'll be in the middle of a lecture, laughing alone to some joke he made that his students didn't appreciate when a string of texts light up his phone.

now, satoru doesn't give a fuck. he opens them every single time, just clearing his throat and stepping to the side so he can glance at whatever his husband deemed appropriate enough to send in the middle of work.

this time, it's a string of pictures of you.

you with suguru's fingers in your mouth, kneeling at his desk as he has an at-home meeting. you didn't have classes today, and geto only had one meeting, so of course you had to be under his skin all day. if only he would leave the meeting and touch you, you wouldn't have to bruise your knees on his wooden office floor. but, you'd gag yourself on his fingers any day. you love his salty aftertaste.

from: sugu geto how am i ever supposed to get work done? come collect your horny girl

gojo gives the text thread a little sideways glance, apologizes for the interruption and slides back in his chair to text his husband back.

to: sugu geto so fucking hot. tell her to pull her shirt up so I can see the goods blue nails look so good on you my baby ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) so hot when she's drooling on them

it takes you and suguru two minutes to respond with a picture of his hand up your shirt, stretching the collar as his wrist peeks through. he’s holding you in a gentle choke, loving the way his hand swallows the entirety of your neck.

gojo knows he's being teased right now, it's why he ignores the image and stands back up, going on about chemistry science bullshit.

though he's going on and on about chemical makeups, he can't shake the image of you and geto from his mind. suguru knew what he was doing when he pressed send. thank god this lecture only had eight minutes left — gojo couldn’t confront his students with a flushed face.

to: sugu geto don’t piss me off … take it off! pleaseeeeeeee you can't see me currently, but I'm giving you the puppy eyes.

"alright." satoru tucks his phone at his side, leaning back in his black leather chair to finally do his job and address his pupils. most of them have already taken to talking amongst themselves, knowing the tendencies of their professor. "I'm done talking your head off and there's..." he checks his watch, "five minutes left. head out or stay, do you."

scattrered 'okays' and goodbye's render satoru's job finished. the first thing he does is shrug off to his cell, long fingers shaking as he slides up on the screen, ready to curse geto out for not giving him what he wanted. no -- needed.

to: sugu geto you think you're so fucking lucky right now just wait till i get my hands on you.

gojo is a fuming cloud of angst as he types feverishly into his phone. his light eyebrows are knitted together, legs crossed to try and push down his growing erection. it'd be impossible to stand and leave in the state he's in, and campus is crawling with colleagues and students right now. he'd have to get a hold of himself.

he's about to cuss his husband out further when a single attachment pops up in their message thread. the image is dark, but fucking unmistakable.

suguru has you over his lap, buried three fingers inside of you. he's got you hooked like a live catch, body bending and bowing to try and control the deafening ache. satoru could only imagine what you two were getting up to, right now, and the thought turns his hard-on into a boner.

little did satoru know, suguru has you at home screaming his name -- begging for mercy and three orgasms deep. it'll be a nice surprise to come home to if he could control himself enough to stand up and get there.

all he has to do is control himself...

read u and suguru's pov

older married!satosugu part 1, 2, 3, 4

<3