#i think he looks very cute in this!!! i really did a lot of work on his eyelashes...very important detail to me
Text
Flirting with the FBI
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word count: 7.1k
Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???
Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.
A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭
Masterlist
You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.
If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.
Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.
You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.
You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.
“There once was a serial killer,
Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,
He cut, diced and slashed,
Left the feds quite abashed,
So I leave this message to be clearer”
The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.
You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.
You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.
None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.
And you really wanted to listen in.
The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.
Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.
A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.
With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.
“There once was a bullpen full of agents,
Who thought they were very surveillant,
But a simply code crack,
And there system did hack,
A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”
This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.
The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.
Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.
He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.
Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.
“The tall, dark and handsome employee,
How I do wish that he could enjoy me,
I would gladly submit,
we match wit for wit,
But he's trying his best to arrest me.”
The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”
The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.
You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.
A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.
After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.
By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.
So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.
“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,
I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,
the killer, you see,
Is right now hunting me,
You're the ones who can do better tracking.”
You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.
That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.
You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.
“There once was a doctor called Reid,
Who I simply and truly just need,
I would lie on my back,
And then let him attack,
Any inch of my body with his seed.”
He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.
Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.
You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.
He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.
This latest limerick was his last straw.
“The cameras are how I can see you,
I do find myself enjoying the view,
His hair is so fine,
I wish he was mine,
The agent with more PhDs than two.”
“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.
“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”
“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”
“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”
They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.
“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.
“The agents grew closer by day,
As the killer wanted to escape,
He paced across the floor,
As I watched by his door,
Getting closer than the agents could say.”
He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.
“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”
“Officer Falstaff, why?”
“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.
“Spencer, wait-”
“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”
Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.
“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.
“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”
“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”
Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.
“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”
His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”
“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”
“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”
The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.
The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.
Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.
Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.
The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.
“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.
A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.
The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.
You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.
“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,
Working with you has been like a dream,
When Reid comes it is wet,
And my mind is all set,
Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”
The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.
“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.
“When you find me there's lots for me to say,
I can't help simply feeling this way,
Your profile I read,
Can't believe you're a Fed,
I yearn for you all night and day.”
Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.
He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.
You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.
“The Doctor had finally cracked it,
The only identity that could fit,
The pretty young thing,
Who'd been flirting with him,
And was thinking of sitting on his…”
You sent a second message along with the first.
“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”
The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.
xxx
So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.
You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.
Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.
You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.
He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.
He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.
“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”
Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.
“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”
“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”
“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.
“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.
“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”
“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”
“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”
“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”
He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.
“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.
“As much as anyone does.”
“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.
“What do you think, Doc?”
“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.
“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.
“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.
“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”
“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”
For the first time in a while, you were speechless.
“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”
“Why, Y/N?”
You sighed and looked back up at him.
“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.
“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.
“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”
He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.
“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”
“You want to sleep with me?”
His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.
“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”
To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.
“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”
You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.
“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.
“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”
You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.
“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”
Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.
“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”
“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”
The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.
A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.
“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.
You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.
“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.
“No, you don't.”
“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”
“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”
“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”
“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”
He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.
“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”
He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.
“Can we keep this serious, please?”
“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”
“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.
“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.
“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”
Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.
“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”
“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”
“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”
“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”
You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.
He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.
It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.
“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”
“I'm driving you home.”
“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”
“What about friends?”
“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”
His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.
“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”
“What?”
“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.
“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”
“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.
“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.
“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.
He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.
The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.
“Spencer!”
“Doctor Spencer Reid.”
“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”
“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”
You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.
“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.
“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”
The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.
He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.
“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.
“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”
“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”
He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.
“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.
“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”
“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.
It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.
When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.
“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.
“And let you touch my things? No.”
You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.
“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.
“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.
“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.
“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.
“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”
You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.
He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.
You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.
“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”
“What's the difference?”
“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."
"And what would that be?"
"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”
“Brat,” he spat at you.
“Fed,” you spat back.
“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.
“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.
“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”
His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”
“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.
“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”
You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.
“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”
“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.
“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”
With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.
The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.
His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.
“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.
With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.
“Fuck, Spencer-”
“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”
“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.
“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.
“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”
“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.
“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.
Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.
“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”
His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.
“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”
“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.
“Say it.”
“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”
“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.
“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.
“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.
Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.
Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.
“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.
They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.
“Who I simply and truly just need.”
He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.
“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”
A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.
“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”
His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.
He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.
“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.
You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.
You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.
He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.
If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.
He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.
Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.
When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.
“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.
“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”
“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.
Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.
When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.
He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.
“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n
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11. dusky pink
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eleven of do me yourself
summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.7k
chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a boy!dad, luca appearance.
an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.
prev chapter | series masterlist
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
“You didn’t have to come to help me.”
Tilting your head, a grin playing at the corners of your lips, you adjust the apron he gave you. “I don’t mind. Plus, you did promise me food after, so.”
A hint of mischief dances in his eyes, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. “So, if I want to persuade you to do something, I should wave a carrot in your face.”
Smirking, biting down on your cheek as you slide the boxed screws onto the shelf. “Oh, you can definitely wave something in front of my face.”
It's instant, the way his mouth falls open, hanging. Frankie's arm pauses, mid-air, on the shelf as he stares, blinks, and eventually clears his throat. “That's… good to know.”
“Your voice cracked there a little bit.”
Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, body beginning to restock again, you watch as he swallows, his forehead crinkling. Did it?”
Laughing, you remove the empty box from the cart—grabbing the Stanley knife attached to the side of it to slice open the next.
Even though you've been here at night before, it's different being down the aisles than when you shared food. There's an eerie stillness that hangs in the air under the low lights, punctuated by the occasional creak of the shelving when the two of you stack something. The strong scent of disinfectant is wavering from its assault on your senses, mingling with the musty odour of warehouse cardboard boxes. A smell that worsens, for a moment, each time one of you empties and flattens it.
But, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
Finding yourself charmed by the place. Although, you suspect it's by the man beside you. The one who had been prepared to do all of this himself all evening.
“Frankie?” you ask, hearing him hmm. “You ever thought of owning this place? Maybe, making it your own or something?”
Snorting, he shakes his head as his fingers slide to itch at the back of his forearm. “No. Not… Well, I’ve thought about it, obviously. Not owning this place, but…”
“But...?”
Shrugging, mouth open, all but chewing his response as he stacks the shelf and answers with, “Doesn't matter. Wouldn’t be good at it.”
Scoffing, you lift your head, finding him staring. “Sorry, I’ll scoff quieter next time.”
“It's a lot of work. And, it's risky. The place can barely afford me, never mind someone else.”
Shaking his head, you see that look appear—the disbelieving one—catching it flutter across his face. His attempt at making it unreadable fails, as you spot it written all over his expression, practically in bold, italic, and underlined; all very much screaming he very much believes he couldn’t.
Continuing, he shrugs, nostrils flaring under a sigh. “S’not worth thinking about. Got bills. Luca. I… I failed him once, don’t wanna do it again.”
Dropping the contents back into the box, you don't think when you gently lay a hand on his arm, urging him to look. You're just grateful that he does.
Head tilting, trying to find words you swap easily for the truth. “I know I don’t know the version of you from back then, but I really doubt you failed him. You were trying to do the best you could, with what you had.”
His gaze meets yours, a blend of gratitude and uncertainty shimmering in his eyes. “I… just...I want to do right by him now, you know?”
“I know,” you answer softly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “And for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job.”
He gives a small, appreciative smile at your words, eyes blinking past you as if trying to process the unexpected validation. Then, when his eyes fall back to you, his smile widens ever so slightly, a gleam of hope seemingly emerging from the shadows of doubt.
“I think you could do something like this.”
Flicking his eyes from yours to your lips, he smiles. “I don’t wanna own this.”
“What do you want then?” Hand sliding back inside the box, pulling out glue—the industrial kind, you imagine—that thankfully is labelled. “Outside of me helping you restock after hours.”
Grinning, he shakes his head. “Haven’t given it much thought.”
Smiling to yourself, turning the labels out, you leave him in silence for a moment. Letting him think, stew. “Not renovating?”
Tipping his head, his eyes meet yours—something twinkling in them. Shimmering. It makes you wonder to yourself if he’s ever been given a chance to think about something that he wants in a while.
“Maybe. I don’t know,” he replies, evidence there of a smile, of something turning, cogs shifting.
“Could get Luca to help—get him a mini tool belt.”
Laughing, he nudges you. “He’d charm them all into giving us free coffee.”
“From the stories you’ve told me, I don’t doubt it.”
It’s then he slides his hand across your back, fingers fanning, spreading warmth through the thin fabric covering your spine. “You still looking forward to meeting him?”
“Only when I don’t overthink it, and worry about the possibility of making the only person who matters in your world cry or something,” you smile, hand gesturing. “Outside of that thought process, very excited.”
Shaking his head, he steps closer, arm sliding around your waist—lips pressing to the top of your head. “Don’t tell him dinosaurs are extinct and you’re good.”
“Noted,” you whisper, staring up at him.
Eyes holding his, lingering. Your throat becomes full with letters, lips rolling as you weigh up whether it’s worth saying them—confessing them.
Instead, you press your mouth to his—hoping he can taste them, and how badly you want to share them.
Did you put that song over your latest Reel for my benefit?
If I did, was it appreciated?
I’m disappointed it’s not the loud-cat-screeching version I gave you in the car, but guess the original would be more well-known.
I want to keep that version, selfishly, to myself.
Just like I want to keep the photo of you with fries in your mouth just for me.
See, we have our things.
Thanks for the help putting the Reel together.
I liked being your camerawoman. But next time, could I have a clapboard—maybe one of those chairs that says ‘Director’ on it?
I think I could find something for you to sit on.
Think that movie is something we’d selfishly keep to ourselves.
Be a good movie, though.
[SENDS PHOTO]
Wow, I didn’t even know they did coffees that large.
It was a special request. I told you she’s persuasive.
I wish I wasn’t on my own, otherwise I’d come down and see you both.
You just want her to get you a large coffee. Which I think she would—she likes you.
Rainy, that is the largest coffee I’ve ever seen.
I’m glad she does. It matters your friends like me like mine like you.
Yours love me.
I am very aware.
If you’re good, I might drop you one off before I go home.
Have I told you how pretty you are today?
Such a charmer.
[SENDS PHOTO]
See I knew you looked pretty.
Waiting, nerves prickling beneath your skin, your fingers interlacing tightly as you flick your eyes from the array of items you've arranged to the still-closed front door.
For the past, so many minutes, you've paced, chewed your cheeks, and endlessly rearranged the items on the table until they blur into a mess of neatness or chaos, you're not quite sure anymore.
Because it matters. Not just to him but to you.
Speaking to Luca (briefly, and on the phone) is so wildly different from meeting him. A thing you're aware of.
It's big. Fucking huge. A thing that you don't take lightly, or ever wish to. Not the permission to meet him, or the fact it's happening. It's why it keeps churning inside of you, bubbling and swimming up your throat; hands wringing out in front of you, thinking over what you'll do when his big eyes draw out the shape of you, standing there, waiting for you, this person who has entered his dad’s life, to say or do something.
You suppose that’s why your fingernail has migrated to scratching at the skin on your index finger, why your stomach is doing somersaults—more so when you hear the sound of Frankie’s vehicle pulling onto his drive.
You’ve got this. You can do this. Just breathe, just breathe, just—
The door finally opens, and there he is. The biggest eyes meet yours, all curious and wide. Even if the shadow of Frankie is behind him, you don’t take your eyes off Luca. Offering a small, reassuring smile, hoping it’ll be enough to show you’re trustworthy as he steps hesitantly into the room.
Not bending over, but crouching down, you let him approach. Watching as Frankie takes his jacket from his son before the soft introduction you've practised over and over again rolls from you—the sweet hello, followed by your name and I’m your dad’s friend.
And you knew it from photos—from the glimpses of the boy in front of you—but he has his eyes. Those soft, expressive eyes twinkle and shimmer at you as he offers his tiny hand for you to shake. One you take happily, with nothing but joy.
“Hey,” you say, voice soft and friendly. “I've heard so much about you.”
He looks at you for a moment longer, taking in your presence. Then, with a shy smile, he mumbles, “Hi.”
Frankie, watching the interaction from the doorway, closes the door, stepping further into the room as he presses his hand to Luca’s shoulder.
"Luca, you remember her from the phone?” He pauses, looking at you for a moment, before finishing, “...the one who struggled to say Aegyptosaurus.”
Narrowing your eyes a little, you smirk playfully at Frankie, the slightest shake of your head as you stare at the boy—warmth spreading through you as Luca begins to grin.
“Speaking of dinosaurs, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to help me with something?” you ask, gaze flicking up to Frankie who gives a supportive nod. “So, I’ve found this colouring book full of dinosaurs inside your Daddy’s coffee table, and I’m not sure what colours to make them.”
Slowly, his face shifts—from a questionable blank one to a slow smile that has the shadow of his dad’s, but breaks into something you assume must be his mom’s.
And god, it’s the most beautiful smile you think you’ve ever seen.
“Sure, I can helps,” Luca says, walking to the coffee table where the book is—before he’s beckoning you, little fingers urging you to come closer.
And you take a breath, a sigh—letting it flow into your lungs, as you reply with a quick ‘coming’ before you glance at the man still giving you both space.
Joining Luca on the floor, you sit cross-legged, the book propped up already on the table as colouring pens, crayons and pencils begin littering the wood not covered by un-coloured pages.
He's eager, flipping through the book, pointing out the different dinosaurs and naming them with an enthusiastic flourish that makes you chuckle. But, when he finds one, he stops. Head tilting from side to side, little finger tapping on the page before he sighs.
“This one!”
Grinning, you take a closer look. “Perfect.”
His smile mirrors yours, before he copies the pitch of your perfect and begins grasping for colours as he hands them to you.
“What’s your favourite dinosaur, Luca?”
Pausing, Luca brings his finger to his lips—dabbing it, scrunching his face before it explodes into a grin so large it almost makes you laugh. “Stegosaurus.”
“Cause of the spikey back?”
Nodding, he grins even wider, doing a little wiggle. “His name means roof lizard, you know that?” Shaking your head, he scrunches his nose as the corner of his lips rises. “And, and it used its back to defend himself.”
“He has a little beak too, right?”
Nodding, Luca begins to scribble his crayon onto the page. "You know him?"
“I’ve been doing my research.”
At Luca’s loud wow, and insistence on you using a colour he doesn’t like—maroon, which looks barely used—you glance towards Frankie, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, fingers lazily tracing up and down the back of his arm, while sporting a soft smile.
Returning your attention to Luca, you spend the next hour engrossed in colouring (a thing you discover you’re doing wrong), dinosaur facts (you’re not sure how he knows so many) and hilarious stories. Finding, with each passing minute, the anxiety sliding from your bones, it falling from you altogether—slipping away, disappearing completely the more Luca interacts.
The two of you only come to a stop when Frankie mentions that it’s almost dinner time, putting the cap on your pen down.
“Hey, Luca. I have to go now. But, I’ve had the best time.”
“You’re not wanting to stay for dinner?” he asks, eyes full of hope as you spot his fist clenched around the pen he’s pressing to the page—the colour bleeding out.
Leaning forward, you smile. “Next time, promise.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Thanks so much for letting me colour with you.”
Getting up, suppressing a groan as your body aches from having to unfold itself from sitting cross-legged, you find Frankie waiting, his expression soft and tender.
“Hi handsome,” you whisper, taking the jacket from his hands.
Frankie leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead—all out of view, just like the two of you had agreed. “You did good,” he tells you quietly. “He likes you.”
Heart swelling at his words, you look back at Luca, who is now animatedly talking to his colouring book, and you find yourself unable to stop smiling.
“I like him too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
And as you listen to Luca's excited chatter, you realise just how much you mean it.
Think you have a new fan.
Stop, do I really?
Apparently, you’re very pretty, and old like me, and so I should kiss you.
Well, not that I love all of those sentiments, I do like the last one.
Do you want me to call when he’s in bed?
You not sick of me?
Not even a little bit.
I’ll wrap up these amends, shower and then I’m all yours.
The image of you covered in soap suds is going to get me through the next half an hour of this show.
It vibrates softly against the bedsheets, your smile spreading—replacing the earlier irksome client and the nervousness from your afternoon.
“He hasn’t shut up about you.”
No hello. Just a continuation, as if the two of you had only paused from the texting to now. Biting your cheek, you smile, knees pulling up as you feel your Lee scrunch.
“Yeah?”
“Baby, he’s pulled out books to show you the next time you come round.”
Grinning, you sigh. “He’s really great, Frankie. He’s so funny? You never told me how funny he was, and how smart. God, when he—”
And you ramble.
For longer than you’re even aware of as you accidentally go into a play-by-play from this morning—as though the man hadn’t been loitering, standing close by or joining in when Luca’s stories got more outrageous. A standout favourite had been Frankie saving the neighbour's lion from a tree, which had turned out to be a cat called Leon.
“—Also, how does he know so much about dinosaurs? And, fuck—Frankie. Did I just ramble to you about your own son?”
You hear his laugh, real and airy, flow down the phone. “I like it, don’t worry. It’s nice hearing you ramble.”
“You’re a filthy liar.”
With a deep, resonant snort, his sigh of contentment drifts through the phone, making your body, in response, relax. Every muscle slowly uncoils, back sinking further into the plush comfort of the bed beneath you. Ear meeting the pillow as it wrinkles gently under the weight of your head.
“Did it… do you think it went as well as you thought?”
“Better,” he confesses, hearing the breath he releases with it.
Biting your lip, you settle yourself further into your duvet—resting your back against the pillows. “Have I told you today that I really like you?”
“Pretty sure that’s my line.”
Smirking, you rest your tongue between your teeth.
“And, really like? That’s a new one.”
“Well,” you grin, unable to fight a smile, “Felt you deserved the extra word.”
Rolling your head, you trace your teeth over your bottom lip—hearing it, absorbing it, the way he repeats it back. I really like you too. The words find a home, rather than sliding in one ear and out the other. Burying themselves, slotting into a place so perfect as they fit so snugly.
A comfortable beat passes, a moment to linger in it before he asks about your work—about the latest thing you’re working on. Even if you always feel you’ll bore him, he always surprises you by reminding you he won’t be. Engaged, asking questions. Listening and recalling back to things you’ve said before, that you suspect most wouldn’t have paid much mind to.
But, then, he’s not anyone.
“I think I left my hoodie at yours.”
Humming, you hear sheets rustling, before rummaging. “Um, the—yes, yeah you have. I’ll hang it up for you.”
“Only if you have the space too.”
“Well, this is… awkward. I wanted to do it in person—”
Even if there’s no indication to do so, your stomach knots. Tangles. Your heart slams into your chest as your throat, all of a sudden, dries.
“I… fuck, if this is too much tell me, but I’ve made you some space—in my wardrobe. And a drawer. And—”
“And, Frankie? How much space are you giving me?”
Swallowing, you hear him click his tongue. “Well... I mean, as much as you want, baby.”
“Frankie…”
“Have I… Is it too much?”
Pulling your knees up, grinning. Quickly wanting to fire a text to your friend and scream HE’S MADE ME A DRAWER, only stopping yourself because, instead, you, all high-pitched and squeaky ask if you can swap to video. Fingers trembling, your face filling the screen before you can eventually push it to the corner when his greets yours.
“You’re so sweet, thank you—it isn’t too much. Not even a little bit. I want—if you want—to give you the same.”
Laughing lowly, you watch him slide back into bed—the freckles on his collarbone illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Baby, you have half my tools at your house—you’ve made plenty of room for me.”
“Yeah, that toolbox is a health hazard—it is very heavy.”
“I’ll make sure to move it next time”
Scrunching your nose. “Oh no, I moved it. Managed to find some strength from somewhere to do so. That’s my workout for the week.”
Shaking his head, you watch him get into bed—arm resting above his head, fingers teasing at his curls as he smiles at you—eyes somehow just as bright even in low light as he begins telling you about his day tomorrow.
You watch, noticing the little lift of his lips when he talks about Benny, when he mentions taking Luca to training—which in turn (he explains) means Luca bosses them around and they all have to listen. Then after they’ll go on a boys’ lunch, where ice cream is usually consumed, the tradition having started when Luca was teething.
“Send me a photo—post-training.”
His tongue slides into his cheek, eyebrow lifting as he stares at you.
“Dripping in sweat do it for you, Rainy?”
“I’m not rewatching your Reels because I want to use a circle-saw, Frankie. Plus, you look so good in sweats—that black pair. Fuck.”
Chuckling to himself, he runs his hand over his face—and you imagine his cheeks are warm, that if the lighting were better, you’d see the beginning of his pink embarrassment crawling up his neck.
Yawning and stretching, you reach for your charger, plugging it in before moving to lie on your side, hearing him ask—as soft, and as sleepily, as he would if you were next to him—you comfy, baby? as your heart does a little flicker as you rest the phone against the pillow.
“Very,” you assure him, pulling the duvet closer around you. “Be more comfy if you were here.”
“Would you, though?”
Hesitating, you hum—hearing the lightest laugh come from him. “You’re very warm—like a furnace. I like it.”
“That all I’m good for, warming your bed?”
Smirking, your eyes heavy, you sigh. “You have some other uses.”
“I’m glad I’m useful.”
Settling further into the bed, hearing him shuffle and rustle from his end, you clear your throat to ask, “Do you think you'd rather have a pineapple for a head or a watermelon?”
Even with your eyes struggling to stay open, you sneak a glance to see his grin break out. “I'd love to live in your head.”
“You sure about that?”
Snorting, he shakes his head, fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Pineapple. Sweeter for you to kiss.”
“You're so thoughtful.”
Giggling, you find a response sitting on your tongue, it just not able to form as you hum again—finding yourself so comfortable and warm under the sheets you’re barely able to hang onto his voice until he whispers ‘baby’. A little noise coming from you that in your head is clearly words, but not to anyone else.
Only realising it isn’t when he says your name. Calls it.
“Frankie…”
“Baby, why don’t we hang—“
“No,” you groan, the O sound stretching out—hardly with any intent. More said with tenderness and pouting than anything as you hear him chuckle. “I’ll wake up.”
“No, don’t… don’t do that. I’ll stay—listen to you snore.”
Flicking your eyes open, glaring at the screen. “I do not snore.”
Chuckling, his voice wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Sure, baby. You just keep telling yourself that.”
“Francisco!”
His laugh roars down the phone, making your cheeks hurt from smiling, shaking your head against the pillow as his laugh turns to an ‘aww’.
“Do you know how pretty you look right now?”
“You can barely see me, Morales. Stop trying to flatter me.”
Somehow, his laugh is even louder than it was before. And somehow, your smile is larger too.
NEXT CHAPTER ->
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hihi!! i love your work, i was wondering if i could request hazbin hotel characters x male or GN socially awkward reader who stutters a lot? preferably the characters angel dust, husk, vox, and velvette please, thank you in advance!
you don't have to do it if you don't want to ofc, take your time and stay safe :D
Aaaaaaaaa this is such a cute prompt! I would be glad to Nonnie!! Also love that Velvette is in here too. Love her but she's not quite as popular as some other characters so I was super excited to see your request!
Did I Stutter?
Ft. Angel Dust, Husk, Vox, and Velvette x male!reader
Angel Dust
Is genuinely trying his best to be kind to his boyfriend, really.
And he succeeds most of the time, but there was definitely a learning curve at the beginning of the relationship.
The awkwardness Angel didn't mind at all. Just thought you were that smitten with him that you got tongue-tied and acted a little awkward because he was just that hot.
However as the relationship progressed and you continued to stutter and are still a little awkward he brings it up.
Once he realizes that's just how you are he's a little dismayed that it wasn't him that made you do it. But doesn't mind it once he gets over that.
He's one of the more patient ones, for sure. When you have trouble getting something out he doesn't make a big deal of it or draw attention to your stutter, he just keeps his face normal and neutral as he patiently waits for you to finish, like you aren't struggling for words.
It actually helps a lot because you don't feel the pressure to get it right and get it right fast that you feel with others.
Although he does have a habit sometimes of intentionally riling you up or being extra seductive with you to worsen your stutter because he thinks it's cute when you stutter his name with wide eyes like that.
"Ya know we've been together awhile now, right? Ya don't have to be so nervous around me all the time. I mean the stutter is cute and it's adorable when ya trip over your words, and I know I'm hot, but I'm starting ta wonder if you're ever going to get used to me." Angel Dust laughs as the two of you walk through Pentagram City, Angel walking beside you. He has one of his hands holding yours, and the other wrapped protectively around your shoulders as you make your way through the streets.
A rare day off and all he wants is to spend it with you to recharge himself.
You huff a moment, trying to think of how to explain it. You hadn't realized he thought it was a nervous habit and not just...what you do.
"T-This is....h-how I normally talk." You eventually get out, speaking slowly to try and reduce the rate at which you stutter.
At that Angel Dust stops and frowns and you're worried that perhaps this quirk of yours is too much for him to deal with now that he knows it isn't temporary. But he just pouts and looks at you as he starts walking again.
"It isn't because I'm super hot? Ugh. How disappointin." He huffs, throwing his head back and looking up at the sky a moment.
"Ya lucky you're so cute. I'll pretend not to be sad that you weren't swooning over me this whole time." Angel Dust looks back down at him.
But in a rare show of courage, his boyfriend clears his throat and forces out something a little bolder than usual.
"W-Who said I w-wasn't?" A coy grin on his face just made Angel stop a moment again, eyes wide as he processed what he had said.
"Ya can't just surprise me with that kind of smooth shit when I'm not expecting it." He grumbles, but from how affectionately Angel grips his hand just a little tighter it's clear he's not actually upset.
He'll just get him back later tonight. He may not be the cause of the stutter, but he knows how to make it worse when he gets a little to close to him, hands running over his body as he whispers to him.
Husk
Another one who is also very understanding.
Literally never once brings it up.
When he figures out that's just how you talk, he shrugs it off.
But he does think it's cute when you stutter on his name when you're trying to get his attention.
But he'll keep that to himself.
When you're struggling he actually makes it really easy on you, busying himself with menial work behind the bar: Organizing bottles, messing around with a new cocktail he had an idea for, cleaning glasses. Whatever he can find so he isn't looking at you, but still waits patiently for you to speak. Him not staring at you, waiting for you to get the words out was actually really helpful.
He also doesn't mind the social awkward aspect. He's not exactly a social butterfly himself, or a people person.
Besides, he's served plenty of awkward people who relax a bit when they have some liquid courage. So those types of people never bothered him.
"A-A-And do you k-know what that, that, t-that- UGH." Husk's boyfriend shouts in frustration eventually. Husk looks over as you lay your head down on the bartop in frustration.
Husk just grabs a glass and pulls out a few bottles, busying himself with making...some sort of new concoction.
"Take your time." Is all he says, the only acknowledgement he gave that he recognized you were struggling.
He's purposefully not looking at you, letting you take a moment to calm and collect yourself without feeling the pressure.
You take a deep breath and try again, speaking slower this time so your upset doesn't make it worse.
"W-Wanna know....what that a-asshole said?" You eventually get out as he pushes the finished drink towards you to try.
"Oh I'm real curious." Husk says plainly, and to others around he might sound only as interested as a bartender normally is in their patrons sob stories. But you can hear in his undertone he does actually want to know.
"H-He said, w-with that cheap o-o-outfit, he's surpr-prised I, I, I...can even afford a drink!" You throw your hands up as you finally finish lamenting about the jerk you met last night when you decided to go clubbing with Angel Dust and Cherri.
Husk frowns a moment at the insult, not liking that he wasn't there to correct the guy. But he can at least settle for making you laugh as you take the first few sips.
He leans forward then, his elbows on the bartop as he lays his head in one hand and looks at you.
"You don't need to afford any drinks. You're fucking the bartender. You get 'em free." He smirks, holding back a laugh as he watches you almost immediately spit out that first sip, and watches you laugh for the first time since you sat down here in such a foul mood.
Vox
Surprisingly, genuinely the most empathetic about the whole thing.
When you first started dating him, he tried to help you. Lots of famous orators had stutters and they overcame them!
But he realizes eventually you don't want him to be so focused on fixing it, just help you get through it when it gets frustrating.
Once you get past that miscommunication, it's a lot smoother.
If you're struggling exceptionally bad he just pulls out his phone and hands it to you in a non-chalant manner so as not to draw attention to you, to let you type what you want to try and get across to him.
Genuinely scrubs social media down there of any shit-talking he sees people might do about 'Vox's stuttering mess of a boyfriend'. He controls pretty much all of it anyway. So it isn't the hardest thing.
He doesn't want you to see what some stranger who isn't worth anything is saying about you if it might make you feel bad.
The reason he is the most empathetic is because he does also have a tendency to stutter too, technically. When he glitches out, he can often stutter or repeat words and it's always intensely frustrating to him because it shows someone how he's feeling an intense enough emotion to glitch out like that.
Always does his best to retain as much control as he can when he glitches because of this, but when it's just the two of you he doesn't...really mind if you hear his computer equivalent of stuttering.
"S-S-Stupid FUCKING Val!" Vox yells as he throws some stupid object on his desk against the wall, narrowly missing you when you walk in to see him. His normal bright blue face is a bright and angry red and Vox is immediately simmering down, eyes wide when he realizes he almost nailed you with it. What had he even thrown? His eyes glance down and he sees it was a stapler and he winces. Yeah, with his strength and throwing that, that could have done a lot of damage if it had connected.
"S-Sh----iiit! I-I'm sorry!"
But Vox's boyfriend doesn't even seem bothered, just jogging over to him quickly and holding his hands, using his thumbs to rub circles on Vox's palms. Clearly trying to calm him down and...damnit it's working. The red begins to fade to blue once again as Vox lets out a deep sigh.
"W-What happened?" You ask him curiously, looking up at him.
"Fucking VAL happened, of course. Ripped apart one of my best news anchors because he found out they were fucking one of his favorites and he doesn't like to share. Now I gotta find someone else who is just as good or I'll be running the 6 o'clock segment until I do." Vox grumbles. He could just slap someone in there of course, but he hadn't built VoxTek into what it was today by accepting second best.
You tug him down, him eventually getting the message and leaning down to be within your reach more. You lean forward and gently place an affectionate kiss on his screen.
"H-How about....I or-or-order food to-to go? W-We'll sit here and...look at c-candidates." You suggest and Vox's face softens again, glad that although Val had ruined his nice relaxing dinner date with you, that he at least still got to spend time with you. Val couldn't ruin his night at least, it seems.
Vox smiles again, his normal exuberant and charismatic showman personality back on full display as he feels better with a plan in place.
"Hey I could always say screw it and let you have a whack at it." He teases, not even feeling bad about the cute look of panic in your eyes as you immediately shake your head no. He can't help but laugh and quickly shakes his own head.
"Kidding! Kidding! I want to still have a boyfriend by the end of tonight." He chuckles, earning him a gentle hit to his shoulder from you at his joke.
Velvette
Admittedly...the least kind about it...at first anyway.
She has little patience or time for things in general. So a stutter was actually a little aggravating to her at first. Until she realized one day she kinda thought it sounded a little cute coming from you.
It was something unique about you, and hey, fashion is all about being unique.
She almost certainly did make fun of you in the beginning before she developed feelings, and whenever Val or Vox bring it up to tease her about it, she winces.
Yeah....not something she's proud of now that she actually likes you and is dating you.
But once she gets past that hump, she's pretty accomodating...sometimes a little too much even.
But her heart is in the right place.
The easiest way she accomodates you is having a lot of conversations over text. Which isn't even an adjustment for her.
Plus it means she can re-read all your sweet words to cheer her up when Val fucks up her best model again. She thinks the world would be more peaceful is someone just fucking castrated him or something...
One of the ways she tries to be helpful and sweet to you but actually makes it worse is when you're trying to talk in a group of people, and when you start to have trouble, sometimes someone just starts to talk over you to move the conversation along.
And then she frowns, cocking her hips to the side with her hands on them.
"Uh? Excuse me. He wasn't done talking, yeah?" She shuts them up, giving you back the floor as your cheeks flush.
But now all the attention is on you and it makes it worse.
But her heart is in the right place, like I said.
She also doesn't care about the social awkwardness.
In her words "Doesn't matter how you are in real life, no one has to know if you don't post it online."
Plus, you're with her. She's plenty adept enough to navigate any social situations you have trouble with.
She's a bit tired of Vox talking over you while you all sat around and had cocktails with dinner. She knows it's in his nature, but that doesn't piss her off any less whenever she sees you sigh and give up on trying to say whatever it is you were trying to say.
"Oy, Box Brain! I know you love the sound of hearing yourself talk, but how about you let someone else get a word in edgewise, yeah?" She's not even trying to hide her annoyance and Vox just rolls his eyes.
"Don't you fucking roll your eyes at me! I'll start fucking up the signal of all your broadcasts if you don't shut the fuck up and let someone else talk!" She's getting just a bit more heated now, narrowing her eyes. You grimace and lean over, placing a hand on her arm to try and show that it's really okay. You loved that she fought so passionately for you...but not everything needed to be a battle.
Vox leans forward himself now, while Valentino just leans back, blowing out smoke and enjoying the show with an amused grin on his face. You certainly couldn't count on him to break this up.
"You wouldn't dare." Vox says with narrowed eyes himself, face closer to hers, and she snaps back at him without thinking.
"Did I fucking stutter?!"
Valentino is the first one to register the hilarity of what slipped out of Velvette's mouth, and he's almost spilling his cocktail from laughing so hard. It's only when he starts laughing that she realizes what she said and feels embaressment wash over her as she turns to you with wide eyes.
"Babes, I didn't mean-"
But you stop her before she can finish, smiling assuringly at her and rubbing her arm.
"I-It's okay....You gotta a-admit...It was pr-pretty funny." You laugh a bit yourself, and only when she sees you laugh does the tension leave her shoulders. She still feels embaressed...but at least you weren't upset.
"Hey, stop fucking laughing you two. It wasn't that funny." Velvette grumbles, hiding her face behind her cocktail as she takes a sip, feeling you press a kiss to her cheek to try and make her feel better as Vox and Valentino continue to enjoy Velvette's mistake.
#hazbin hotel#angel dust hazbin hotel#vox#vox x reader#angel dust#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel husk#husk x reader#hazbin hotel velvette#velvette x reader#Velvette
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hi omg i love your works sm !! each one is so cute and i love your dialogue for the characters 🫶 i've read most of them but i'll be going back to reread and reblog them bcos u deserve the love 🤍
i wanted 2 ask if ur requests were open ? it's okay if they aren't ofc !! but i had this idea earlier about dentist / orthodontist iwaizumi or oikawa ! and i've been looking thru the hq writers that i've reblogged from n u came up ! the idea is pretty broad but i was thinking more of a build up from patient-dentist (?) to lovers, smth like that ! idk if ure up for it then do ur magic but otherwise i hope u have a great day and i'm looking forward to reading more from u 💞💞💞
Unusual affection
thank you so much for your love!! I never wrote much AU before so this was such a fun idea and I hope I did it justice<3
word count; 1353 – gn!reader, dentist Oikawa AU, patient-dentist to lovers, suggestive
You're not so fond of going to the dentist. Luckily, your teeth didn’t give you many problems growing up, but your parents were urging you to get a check-up appointment after you moved away to a new city. Better to establish a dentist before the issues come up, they would say.
So you did, you made an appointment with dentist Oikawa Tooru and made your way to his office a few weeks later. His waiting list wasn’t exactly short. Not that you had to wonder why for long because…
that is one gorgeous man!
“You need to floss more regularly,” he added as if it just came naturally for him, which it probably did. You lay on the seat as he looked over all the basic stuff, rinsing and picking at your teeth. Unfortunately, you couldn’t see yourself attracting him very much with your mouth wide open and lips scrubbed dry already, so you just accepted your fate.
“I’m not really a dancer but I’ll try,” Oikawa stopped what he was doing and the swivel chair he sat on slowly turned towards you. That’s like something Makki would say, he thought. And that’s not a compliment.
“How old are you, 10?” he asked but quickly cleared his throat when the secretary seemed to eye him from her desk. She always said he shouldn’t have an attitude with customers.
“Some would say I’m a 10 out of 10!” you responded, joyfully watching as his patience wore thin. Oh, how fun to find cracks in that perfect exterior.
He sighed, shook his head, and turned back to the monitor. You started looking at the ceiling, counting the dots and lines in the ugly pattern until you lost count and started over. Is that a headache creeping up on you?
Finally, Oikawa rolled back over. You blinked a couple of times to shake off the view of the ceiling and actually focus on him. “Open.” Wouldn’t mind hearing him command you like that in another setting, you thought, suddenly avoiding eye contact again but still doing as he said. Dentists are not supposed to be this attractive. “Your wisdom teeth on this side, do they hurt?” he asked, pointing to the cheek he was referring to.
You thought about it, humming in thought. “Yes, especially after eating. Lots of food gets stuck in there too.”
“We can set up another appointment to get them removed,” he informed you. “It should be mostly covered by insurance if I say it’s necessary.”
You nodded, licking your lips as they felt so dry from his gloved hands running over them. “Will…” he was about to stand up but stopped for a moment to listen to you. “…you be doing that?”
A small humorous sound left his lips, and it sounded so melodic you were in a trance. “That could be arranged.”
Two weeks later, you’re back at the reception of your dentist's office, asking for Oikawa. You agreed to do the procedure with a local sedative, as you didn’t have that many close friends in this city yet that could pick you up, so two assistants were currently making sure you wouldn’t feel anything around your mouth for the next hours. Unfortunately, this called for you to stay quiet, and you were honestly just excited to see Dr. Hottie again.
Your prayers were answered, and after they left you to soak in the numb feeling in your mouth for about ten minutes, Oikawa walked through the door. “Hey there, little dancer.” he greeted you.
“Hi!” you cooed, but it sounded odd when you couldn’t feel your lips. You frowned, trying to look down at your lips for a moment before giving up. Oikawa clicked his tongue from where he watched you, shaking his head before putting gloves on. Everything he did seemed so elegant, but you had a sense there was a dorky side to him.
“It might hurt a bit, but just tap me if you need me to adjust, okay?” he informed you, looking into your eyes for an answer.
You nodded, sucking in a quick breath. His eyes were pretty. Swirly, like chocolate ice cream. “Yes, I got it.” You bit your top lip, sheepishly continuing. “My safeword is toothbrush.”
Oikawa seemed to chuckle under his breath, he hesitated to humour you but still gave in. “Good to know. I was half expecting a stupid joke about tap dancing.” he hummed before picking up the first tool he needed and swiftly getting to it. It wasn’t very fortunate, to have him stare at your face as your cheeks flushed red, but it was worth witnessing the self-satisfied smirk on his face.
The procedure didn’t take too long. He struggled with the lower tooth, so an assistant came in to help him and the two conversed like you weren’t even there. When it was finally done, Oikawa pressed a button so you were adjusted into a seated position. You let your lips run frantically over your chapped lips, reaching for the small cup of water he provided you. And had you not been busy with the aftermath of the procedure, you would have noticed the way he watched you for a moment too long before getting up and throwing away his gloves.
Oikawa knew it was inappropriate. His breath shouldn’t have stuttered when he saw you in the waiting room for the check-up, he shouldn’t have sent you a small wave before calling your name to let you know he was ready for you, and he shouldn’t have put his hand on your back while leading you to his station. He just found you entertaining, that’s what he told himself, but he definitely looked off his game when you finally sat down for him to check the stitches from the procedure.
“Everything alright there, doc?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. Oikawa waved his hand as if it was nothing, laughing under his breath.
“No worries, I was just-” he pursed his lips before pointing at you with the little tool in his hand. “Do you like pasta?”
Your jaw loosened in disbelief. “Pasta? I guess I do, is that bad for my teeth or something?” you asked a bit awkwardly.
“There’s this new Italian restaurant down the street. You should go there,” he said. “With me, I mean.”
Oikawa’s penthouse apartment was pretty nice, so you two basically spent most of your time there after a couple of dates led to stumbling through your front door with your lips locked together. He had complained about the small bed and creaking floor of your apartment, which led him to take you home to his place the morning after.
Now you were sitting on the marble countertop in the bathroom with Oikawa standing between your legs, and it was similar to something you had dreamed up before when imagining life with a boyfriend. The difference was, you weren’t kissing or anything like that. No, your mouth was wide open as your handsome boyfriend checked your teeth before bed after you brushed them. “This is a bit unusual, don’t you think?” you managed to say, making him pout as you accidentally left a small bite on his pointer finger.
“You’re a bit unusual, but here we are,” he mumbled, but still hummed in appreciation at what he observed. “I knew the electric toothbrush would help.”
Finally, he leaned an arm on each side of you on the counter so you could have a kiss, which you’d say was a much better reward for being good at the dentist than the ones you would get when you were younger. “You truly are a genius, Tooru.” you cooed sarcastically. He kissed you again and hummed, savouring the aftertaste of your toothpaste. The expensive kind.
“Maybe I’m such a good dentist that my kisses clean your teeth,” he said, and it shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t be charming. It was cheesy, made no sense and created some disturbing mental images. But you savoured it nonetheless, accepting every kiss he gave you and returning it with the same sweetness.
Luckily, this dental nerd is all yours.
masterlist
#ask-mp4#hq#haikyuu#haikyu#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyu x y/n#haikyu x you#oikawa tooru#oikawa x reader#haikyuu oikawa#hq oikawa#oikawa toru#oikawa
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i love ur charlos parents au sm!! im not requesting art or anything if u dont feel like drawing (tho youre a phenomenal artist!!), but i was wondering if you wanted to share any more details abt the au? i thinks its so cute haha and would love to know more. also hope ur having a great day!
I LOVE THIS AU TOO i do want to draw more i always have ideas for it.... but i will gladly ramble about my lore ive developed
1. is this an mpreg au even i do not know or care to know. yes these are their biological children who look like them and share their genes but how did we get here ill leave that to you to assume. either way both of them definitely wanted big families and even tho i draw them with 2 kids i think they want at least 4..... charles wants a daughter and carlos says the same but secretly he only wants sons. hes picturing a future football team and also doesn't understand women conceptually
2. i actually think carlos3 was an accident child and charlos get shotgun married over it. its part of the reason why theres a bit of a gap between their first and second child. they had to like reassess and settle stuff after kind of having to get their shit together and make honest men of each other.
3. they get divorced at some point during all this mainly due to SAINZ SENIOR PRESSURE. probably while carlos3 is like highschool age. charles talks so much shit and then proceeds to get emotional like I SHOULDNT TALK ABOUT YOUR FATHER THIS WAY vs carlos like. bro tries to just act like they are normal regular friends now like man thats not how this works....charles always plays cool irl but is annoyed as hell underneath. very good coparents though....always at all the events together. when the kids stay at sainz family evil mansion for the summer they come back to charles so villainous and feral. he has to go supernanny on them...
4. charlos DO get back together after like 10 years of being separated lol. and yeah there were lots of messy nights out and not quite reconciliations throughout that time. very confusing family dynamic but theyre happy at the end
5. carlos3 grows up to be a guy who just kind of piggybacks onto whatever business endeavors his dads are doing. ultimate nepotism hire. hes not bad at what hes doing he just never really found that passion. his passion is like.....posting peaky blinders quotes on instagram. hes kind of a failson but hes also the perpetual baby for charlos so they just...coddled him too much his whole life djhdksndksbs.... younger son herve becomes a FASHION MODEL!!!! hes beautiful gorgeous and also a perfect nepo child so he's ripe for this career....he walks runways in paris
thats all i can think of for now thankssssss ily
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What physical part(s) of Arsay does her partners find the most attractive! Is it the same for all partners or does it differ between them?
(also optional bonus ask of what part(s) of/about Arsay generally do they love the most, physical or not!)
Meanwhile, if you were to ask the same of Arsay:
#ffxiv#wolship#g'raha tia#y'shtola rhul#wolgraha#wolshtola#y'shtola x wol#arsay nun#graharshtola#y'shtola calling arsay a pain in her side is very much an affectionate thing btw#and i couldnt pass up the joke of g'raha giving the sweet gentlemanly response only for yshtola to be like 'tits tbh'#her defaulting to an answer that would probably stop the conversation before she has to talk to much about her deeper feelings imo#i have. a lot of feelings about yshtola and arsay's friendship#someone who is constantly trying to build walls between herself and others vs someone who desperately wants to form real connections#its not a 'wearing that person down' type situation either#just one lonely person seeing another lonely person and hoping that they could be less lonely together#or that she could at least bring some cheer to#and idk yshtola strikes me as the type to have been like 'if they want to be my friend they have to work for it'#which arsay certainly did#i could ramble on and on how their friendship lines up so well with yshtolas character development but theres a limit to these tags#so just look at how cute shtola is with the slightest blush on her cheeks#graha is a much more complicated topic since he went from Extreme adoration to I want to be her friend but I dont think im good enough#to 100% Hero worship again to Shes my hero and I love her to Shes a person and I love her#to I love Arsay. Even the parts she can't love in herself. I will love all of her till my dying breath.#he thinks shes the most beautiful person in the world and the most important thing in his life#but he now knows how insane she's been about being everyone's hero and he really doesnt want to feed that beast#so hes trying to build her up in other ways#focusing more on the adventuring side than the saving the world side#and then there is arsay who loves so much about her partners and is in capable of narrowing it down to any one thing so its#'here let me list everything that comes to mind right now' with 0 shame or filter
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“Amore et Timore” - King Fernando I “El Animoso”
#*why is it that when I write tags that are genuinely imporant and wordy it always doesnt save UGH#well. ill try and rewrite them.#hahaha I bring you curly haired king Fernando!!(mostly for cofi)#2011 monza gp core Fernando that gripped us all by the throat right?? right????#also i hope that his hair doesn't appear red to you like it did to me on my pc??? its brown I assure you#anyways! historical context for nerds like me:#'el animoso'(the spirited) comes from Philip V of course#it was apparently bestowed on him bcs of his perseverance and unwavering fervor in battle#and is that not the most Fernando coded thing youve ever heard?????#'Amore et Timore'(through love and fear) however comes from Joseph I#whom seb is partially based on but i thought his Latin motto fit Nando way better so here we are#philip v didn't have a motto as far as i could tell so that's why I stole Joseph's#but i do think the motto for the Spanish kingdom fits Fernando's career pretty well?#'A solis ortu usque ad occasum'(from sunrise to sunset) and i think that suits Fernando's 'longest f1 career ever' p well#anyways I sent a sketch of this to cofi the other day like yeah I probably wont finish this#and now here i am on 5 am on a tuesday grinning manically sleep deprived like HERE YOU GO#i think he looks very cute in this!!! i really did a lot of work on his eyelashes...very important detail to me#he kinda accidentally looks like Louis XIV unfortunately#but thats down to his hair I think. it looks a lot more like the traditional wig style from then compared to what I typically draw#but god imagine being seb in this au!!! you get to wake up next to this majestic beast....#seb would have this painting framed over his bed or something. i mean who wouldn't????#f1#formula 1#fernando alonso#f1 fanart#formula 1 fanart#catie.art.#boy king au
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Thank @expatiating for this one!
(He/They)
#I had a lot of fun#really needed this before the semester started thank you 🥹#any other ideas are very welcome but I will take a HOT second to get to them#I worked really hard#please be kind#I think it’s wild I keep doing these looks but don’t have the gall to go out in them most times#also shocked I’m not locked in with a partner yet#I’m so fruity and pretty I deserve it 😌#not in a cocky way#just in an I feel really cute and would be great arm candy kind of way#I even did highlighter on my collar bone#I can’t be stopped!#he they#trans masc#selfie#trans selfie#trans#queer#androgynous#androgynous model#nonbinary#nblm#mlnb#mlm#makeup#moth#pretty boy#feel free to reblog#validate me#tell me i’m pretty
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#another bonus under the cut where i got up under their big head to get 'em a little closer and a little more front-facing#aggron#aggron is just cool. a big metal bitch who *could* hug you but is probably actually just gonna obliterate you. is that anything#i think i prefer lairon more. it's kinda just a little metal creature and i think that's awesome but aggron stands up#and normally i'm a big big fan of when pokémon stand up. when everyone wanted sprigatito to not stand up i was like#please stand up. because i am a furry and i knew it was gonna become favorite pokémon material if it did. and it did and meowscarada is#wonderful and i love it and it's one of my top like 10 of all time. but aggron is like. i dunno. a little too gruff for me#i think aron and lairon are cute and i'm generally a fan of and user of cute pokémon but aggron is very. how you say. aggressive#and also… ron… aggressive ron. new show on netflix i just reinvented aggretsuko but for pokémon#also weirdly every furry on the face of the earth likes aggretsuko but for one i've never had a netflix account and for two i just#don't ever watch shows. it's just not something that works in my brain. having to get them‚ and then just taking the time to sit down and do#it just never does anything for me. the last show i watched was because i was over at a friend's house and he was like hey. we're watching#this show now. i want you to see this show. and it's a show that folks generally lamented for a lot of reasons so i was like iii dunno about#that one! but he was like no trust me it's fine. and then i was like. kinda uninterested at first but it turned out to be really good#and i'm still ashamed. that i liked it as much as i did. so i will not say what it is. it's not supernatural. it's a short-ish show#but like it was good and i didn't expect it to be. which has nothing to do with aggretsuko OR with aggron for that matter#literally idk. look it's distraction (AGGRON DISTRACTION)
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FACTS HAYAMA-SAN!!!!!!!! SO TRUE YOU ARE SO RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!
#this is vee speaking#when the merch dropped for this event i thought the wall scrolls were nice because wow takeuchi-san in pink!!!!!!! stupendous!!!!!!!#but what would i do with a takeuchi wall scroll lol#and then hayama-san graced us with his infinite wisdom 😌 and wore the wall scroll 😌 talented 😌 brilliant 😌 incredible 😌 amazing 😌 sho—#lol takeuchi-san’s program cost a little bit so i haven’t watched the part with ishiya-san yet#but the part with hayama-san was very entertaining lol they are on the same wavelength in the strangest ways lmao#i need to rewatch it again since i let it play while i was working but takeuchi-san’s opening video lol#had him listing 30 things he liked about hayama-san (spoiler he did not do 30 LOL)#for number two he said that hayama-san was cute (✔️) and it’s a little unfair he’s cute because he’s also a bully (✔️)#but he’s cute so he winds up not minding at all i think was the rather long reason and the commenters went ‘so he’s an M senpai………..’#‘hayama is his S kouhai huh’ also said the commenters and were proven right when hayama-san forced him to march around the perimeter LOL#i shouldn’t have made this a tag vomit post there’s actually a lot i wish to say lol#one part i thought was interesting was hayama-san’s first impressions of takeuchi-san#he said he thought he looked really cool…………… and then the highball happened lmao (takeuchi-san is bad with alcohol lol)#what i thought was interesting tho was apparently ishiya-san thought he looked scary when he first saw him#and i am of a similar mindset actually lol like i look back at bat’s debut pics from the 4th live and think ‘DAMN he looks intense’ lmao#he’s softening with age and it’s delightful to see lmao 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰#like i’m apologising in advance for this statement but take-san now has a fun very handsome guy next door vibe#take-san 4 years ago looked like the bro that would have you faded in his lap from drinks he hand fed you slow and called you ‘good’ LOL#hayama-san and sakakihara-san were calling him papa from the beginning for a REASON LOL#c: seiyuu stuff
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3 days. and the boy already feels bad for the decisions he took 🫥
#I MEAN YEAH FEEL BAD YOU LOST THIS MOTHERFUCKING GODLY WOMAN???? (me#my friends asked me tae if he asks to come back (and maybe even asks to be your boyfriend) would you allow it#and i didn't really think earlier but i think my ground is: he should work on himself first#he's too unstable and gets anxious very easily#and can often make bad decisions or judgements based purely on emotion (see him asking for us to be good friends again)#and look. i do like him he's a very sweet and cute guy but i did Not. come to this hell of world to take care of men#and after a while of thinking. i felt really weird that he said it was limiting that i set some boundaries !!!!#as if he were following rules#he did say he respects me a lot and would never do something i don't want; but i mean. you say this now that you're “normal”/only sad#what will happen when you're angry? what you'll do to me if you feel i'm limiting you and you're *angry*?#so yeah. that's my answer. i will get back to him when he works on himself to become a better partner. bc a good person he already is
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CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI
CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)
☆☆☆
thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.
Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).
Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.
Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website
Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.
Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.
Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.
~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~
Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.
~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~
he wanted to be nonchalant.
Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called
“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”
Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.
Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.
Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.
“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”
#toji fushiguro#toji zenin#toji x reader#jjk#jjk toji#toji smut#toji x you#jujutsu kaisen toji#prison#prison toji#inmate#inmate toji#pen pals#jail#jail toji#toji x y/n#jujutsu toji#feral#i need him#I LOVE TERRIBLE MEN#toji headcanons#smutish
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honestly i forgot that dick originally wanted to adopt jason as well just imagine how chaotic that would’ve been like
——————
jay: uh what’s for dinner
dick: well we have cereal and…
dick:
dick: hey don’t kids like the whole breakfast for dinner thing?
jay: i miss alfred
——————
dick: and for a bed i’d like to introduce you to this lovely thing called a futon!!
jay: …better than a cardboard box i guess
——————
jay: can i fight crime yet
dick: you’re a child
jay: you’re a slightly larger child
dick: …fair point, no extreme violence and minimum 4 flips per patrol
——————
dick: when a mommy and daddy love each other very much—
jay: i am not doing this with you dickface i know what sex is
dick: wait no little wing i have a powerpoint presentation. it’s color coded and everything!
jay: i wish i’d stayed on the street
——————
dick: okay that’s enough, you know what, get on top of the fridge
jay, hissing: this house is a fucking nightmare
——————
jay: hey some friends at school wanted to watch a movie, is it okay if they come here—
dick: yes, yes! oh my god finally i’m so proud you’re making friends jaybird, i’m gonna be the coolest host dad ever i’ll make pizza and
jay, already on the phone: yeah he said no, sorry guys, can we do it at tommy’s?
——————
dick teaching jason trapeze and circus stuff 😭
——————
jay: god the circus is so lame
dick: exCUSE ME i’m disowning you, get out
jay: WHAT
——————
dick, who forgot to pick up jay from school: oh god i’m so sorry, i’ll never do it again
jay, who’s thrilled to be allowed in the library after hours every time, but never one to pass on a guilt trip: wow dick i never thought you of all people would abandon me
——————
dick: listen my support group says-
jay: you joined a support group for single moms dickface, that doesn’t count
dick: it does too, they all think i’m very brave for doing this alone
jay: for fucks sake-
——————
dick, coming home late from a date and seeing the lights on: uhh hello?
jay, sitting on a stool: and just where have you been all night young man?
dick: IM 26
——————
jason, pointing at the wayne family photos: so who do we like, and who do i hate on principle
dick:
dick: okay so this is complicated
jason: there’s only like three living people??
dick: right. so—
——————
dick, who pulled an all-nighter working on a case: good morning!
jay, who was reading jane austen and didn’t notice the sun came up: right…morning
dick:
jay:
dick: you didn’t sleep did you
jay: well clearly neither did you
dick: fair enough, coffee?
——————
jay: so this guy was shovin’ me around and-
dick: i’ll kill him
jay: …no.
dick: but-
jay: his mom’s the librarian and i can’t afford to fall out of sharon’s good graces
——————
dick: look it’s not my fault i’m so charismatic
jay: i’m not asking for a lot here
dick: you’re asking me to suppress my nature
jay: i’m asking you to stop flirting with all my teachers at parent teacher conferences
dick: c’mon it’s not that big of a deal
jay: …miss shields gave me her phone number to pass along the other day. so did mr. burnes, it’s getting outta hand dick
dick: oh i see, this is serious
dick: she’s really cute, maybe i should-
jay: STOP IT
——————
#dick actually choosing to pass the robin mantle on to jason 😭#they’d be so cute your honor#dick grayson#jason todd#batfamily#batfam#dc
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Simon "Ghost" Riley’s Breeding Kink 💘
just smut, breeding kink, praise, mdni
Simon had never brought up wanting kids, and you’d sort of assumed that he didn’t want them - with a background like his, and the hardened man that he is (when he’s not feeling poorly, and trying to be close to you 24/7) it would be totally understandable if he didn’t want to bring a whole new human into the world. Maybe the trauma just ruled that out. Even he had never really, consciously wanted children.
That was until you were pinned below him, with your pretty legs hoisted up to your chest and your hands wrapped around his body, digging into his back, dwarfed by the size of him.
Simon likes to fuck you deep - he can go fast or slow, he doesn’t mind, but he needs to make sure that cute little cunt is taking all of him. He’d never wanted children, but the sight of you on his dick, little gasps slipping from those lips… you’d look so pretty carrying his babies.
"I want t’get you pregnant," he grunts, a tattooed arm moving up to the side of your head to support him as he fucks into you. You’ve been with him before, but you never get used to the sheer power of him, your lips forming a little O as you struggle to form your words.
"Wh- but I- Si-" you whine. You only wish he’d slow down to let you speak, but your flushed mumbling just encourages him, his fat tip making a bulge in your stomach.
"Can’t talk, love? Is my pretty girl struggling..?" A little, nasty glint in his eyes tells you just how much he’s enjoying seeing you struggle like this.
"Will you le’me give you a baby, darlin’?" he groans, gently brushing your hair out of your face. Faint words try to escape your lips but it’s futile, and your boyfriend grins as he watches you splutter and nod for him.
His strokes only become faster and deeper, causing your toes to curl when he touches parts so deep inside of you that you didn’t think possible. He let out little grunts of appreciation as your walls gripped him tight.
"Fuck…" he groaned, his brow furrowing, "y’feel so good… fuck…"
This man makes sure to take his time (and savour the view) and when he finally shoots his cum inside of you, he stays in there for a little while - just to make sure nothing can escape and undo all his hard work. If it did, it wouldn’t matter, he’d just fuck it right back into you.
"Such a good girl… takin’ my kids so well…" he whispers gruffly into your ear, his large hands stroking your back gently as you catch your breath.
"You’ll look so pretty with my babies, darlin’," he kisses your forehead softly.
i’m very new to writing smut so i hope this was ok 😋 love you lots
#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#cod#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#cod x reader#headcanon#ghost cod#ghost smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x you#simon riley#smut#cod smut#simon riley smut#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#ghost simon riley#ghost headcanons#call of duty x reader#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare#cod mwii#cod headcanons#call of duty modern warfare 2
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THE DOCTOR IS IN - SATORU GOJO
✴︎ summary: aka medical intern / doctor in training gojo. when you go to your annual check-up, you didn't think you'd be crushing on your doctor - or that he's conduct such an in-depth examination - in more than one way.
✴︎ contents: 18+, a lot of smut, implied cheating (but there's no cheating), improper use of a medical questioning and an exam room, improper use of a tongue depressor, panty sniffing, semi-exhibitionism (but not really), fingering (f!receiving), oral (f! receiving), semi-public sex, sex in an exam room
✴︎ wc: 2,573
It was just a checkup.
You sit, using your phone as you wait for the doctor, squirming on the uncomfortable exam paper drawn over the patient bed — so why were you so nervous?
And then there’s a knock at the door, and he walks in — but it’s not your usual doctor.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” the white haired man grins widely, and you’re taken aback by how good he looks dressed in his white coat — if he had been your doctor before, you never would have missed a single one of your appointments, “My name is Satoru Gojo, and I’m a medical student that’ll be helping out today,” he offers his hand, and you take it, shaking his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” you smile, introducing yourself by name, and he sits on the chair in front of you. Without his white coat and stethoscope around his neck, he could have looked more like a model than a medical student. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had been offered gigs modeling for his medical school’s brochures — hell, you were regretting not going to medical school right now.
He’s right down to business, crossing his leg over the other, “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about you, what brings you here, and your personal and medical history?” he asks, clipboard and pen in hand, lips curling.
“Not at all, Doctor,”
“Call me Satoru,” he smiles, and you can’t help but smile back. And then he’s running through the usual list of questions — name, occupation, date of birth, smoking status, drugs, prescription list, and all the other questions medical providers need to ask patients, “and sexual history?”
You tilt your head, flushing, “Can you be more specific?”
And he’s leaning back, pen pausing in its scribbling, as he glances up to clarify, “Are you sexually active?”
You lick your dry lips, squirming under his gaze that suddenly feels heavier than before, “Yes, I am,” and he nods.
“Do you have a partner?”
You nod, “I have a boyfriend,”
His eyes rake over you discreetly, “Must be pretty handsome to date a woman like you,” he remarks, — did he always flirt with his patients? Because he certainly will have good patient retention at that rate.
“He’s also a little full of himself,” and you see a slight purse of his lips, as he raises an eyebrow, “but he’s very, very cute,”
“Oh is he? Good to know,” he sighs, pressing the top of the pen to his lips, drawing your eyes to his lips, “and how often do you engage in sexual activity?”
You have to pause before you answer — god, when were you going to move off this topic? “Pretty often, almost every day, usually,” you clear your throat, unable to meet his gaze, as he nods.
“And are you satisfied?”
And you raise an eyebrow, “is that relevant?”
“Oh, this is a physical, we like to be very thorough,” and you swallow thickly — well this was uncomfortable — but he only looked…almost amused, “Well?”
“Most of the time,” you shrug.
“Most of the time?” he repeats, placing his clipboard lower, clearly far too interested.
“My boyfriend has been pretty busy with work lately, it’s been pretty lonely,” your eyes finally finding his own, deep blues darkening a shade.
And his lips quirk, “Oh I see, I’m sorry to hear that, but I won’t be leaving you alone anytime soon,” he winks, and he’s rising to his feet, as he draws slower, “I think we can move onto the actual physical exam now,” and he’s pulling his stethoscope out as he draws near, kneeling instead of standing — because what else can you do beside a couch instead of a hospital bed — “I’m going to listen to your heartbeat,”
God, he smells good.
You try not to bite your lip at him — he was so pretty, up close even more so, his long snow white eyelashes fluttering and his perfect pink lips so kissable — but no, no, this was inappropriate. This was a doctor’s office.
And he’s putting the stethoscope in his ears, pressing the metal diaphragm to your chest, “Oh, your heart’s racing,” he murmurs, leaning in even closer, warm breath warming your skin, “wonder why that is — this may call for further examination,”
“Is this concerning?” and he’s tilting your chin up, far too close to your face.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re in good hands,” he’s moving the stethoscope to your back, pressing the metal end to listen to your lungs, “please take deep breaths for me,” and you do, biting your lip, as he leans against you as he moves the diaphragm to four different points, his chest brushing against your shoulder, “I see,” he murmurs, “have you been experiencing any aches or pains anywhere?”
You swallow, “My throat has been hurting a little,” and he nods, grabbing a tongue depressor.
“Let me take a look, now stick out your tongue and say ‘ah,’” and you do as he says as he presses the tongue depressor down, “good girl,” he murmurs, making your cheeks warm at his words — fuck.
His eyes scan your mouth, pressing against your tongue harder, “I don’t see anything unusual,” as he pulls the depressor back, skimming your tongue teasingly, but still, his face is so close to yours, and he notices your breath catching, “but I may need to do a closer examination if you…consent,”
“If I consent?” You ask slowly, his lips a breath away, and his thumb drags down your lips, “Satoru—“
“Do you consent?” And he’s leaning even closer, noses brushing, and you only can manage a nod, “use your words, Princess,”
“Yes, please,” and he only smirks, as his lips brush yours — so soft and teasing, his fingers cup along your jaw. He tastes of sugar and warmth, his tongue teasing your lips, until they part, dragging over your tongue, the very same he had just examined. He draws easy moans from you, one after another, before he pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips.
“I didn’t see any issues, but I am concerned about your throat,” and he’s kissing a burning trail down your jaw to the hollow of your throat, “feels a little swollen here—“ and his teeth grazes the soft skin there, “it may need a closer look,” and he’s licking and sucking, dragging his tongue over your sweet skin.
And you’re nearly panting at this point, as he smiles at you, pressing another kiss to your lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “was that you checking again?” And he laughs, lips curling, as his fingers slide to the small of your back.
“You can be too sure,” and he’s kissing you again, and he doesn’t miss the way your thighs press together, “think the problem may lie elsewhere,” and his hands drag down your sides before finding your thighs, and you gasp, as he parts them, your fingers pressing into your soft flesh, “feels very warm here, and almost irritated — it may be an infection,” he hums, as his thumbs toy with the waistband of your shorts, “I may need to get a closer look,”
“Satoru—” you whine, and pulling at your shorts now, and he’s looking up at you with lidded, lustful eyes.
“Would the patient like some help removing her clothes for the examination?” and you only can manage a nod, and he accepts it this time, pulling your shorts down, “don’t worry, I’m a medical professional, I know just what treatments are acceptable in cases such as these,” and your shorts pool around your ankles, before you’re kicking them off.
And his eyes linger on the damp, dark patch on your underwear, “oh? I see the problem,” you gasp as he presses his thumb against your puffy clit through the thin fabric, “it’s so swollen, so warm — I’m going to have to do a very thorough exam of this area,” and he’s snapping the fabric against your skin, making your squirm, “so sensitive,” he hums as he tugs down your underwear, sniffing your panties, before pocketing them, “a sample, I’ll keep it for further testing,” he winks, before he unbuttons his cuffs, rolling up the sleeves of his light blue button up.
His eyes darken as his eyes rake over your exposed cunt, “are you ready to begin?” And he waits for your nod, before his fingers part your messy folds, as his arms pin your thighs in place, “so wet, do you hear that, sweetheart?” And his finger sinks into your needy pussy, squelching, “practically swallowing me in,” he grunts, licking his lips, “gonna need to probe a little deeper,” and a second finger is joining the first, fucking you open in earnest, as he pulls another moan from your lips, “s’good for me, but still I can’t figure out what’s wrong, maybe I just need to inspect this area further,” his hands sliding your thighs over his shoulders, pressing a languid kiss to your inner thigh.
And then his lips brush against your clit, making you squirm, his tongue darting out to drag lazy circles around it. God, you were so close, “don’t be so loud, there are other patients who might hear you — they might wonder what kind of exam I’m doing,” and you’re holding back your cries, biting your bottom lip. as his fingers and tongue bully your insides, “so tight, think I need to loosen you up before the final test,”
“I’m, ngh, close—“ and his lips close over your clit, sucking hard, and that’s enough for you to fall over the edge. You’re moaning, walls twitching around his fingers, your thighs, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, lapping up every bit of your release. Your cunt twitches as you come down from your pleasure high, as you look down at him with half lidded eyes, gaze deep and dark, laced with lust as you watch him lick your release from his lips and chin.
“Such a good baby, you did so good,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck and face, until he’s letting you taste yourself on his lips, swallowing your moans eagerly, “haven’t even figured out what’s wrong and look at the state you’re in now,” he tsks, as he rubs the length of your cheek with his thumb, before kissing your jaw, “we still have more work to do,” as he eases your quivering legs off his shoulders.
And he’s undoing his belt, the clink of the buckle drawing your eyes to his thighs, as he tugs down his slacks and boxers, as it slaps against your stomach. Your lips part at the sight of him, thick and long — a white head of precum, dripping from the engorged tip.
Fuck, he’s huge, and he chuckles at your expression, “Like what you see, sweetheart?” As he drags his weeping erection along your sensitive pussy, “so messy, gonna have to see what’s going on inside, I have a feeling it’s very deep,” his fingers lift one of your legs over his shoulder, “are you ready?”
And you’re nodding, “please, I need—“ and he’s parting your folds, past that delicious ring of muscle, kissing the deepest part of you with his tip, as your lips part in a groan, “Toru—“
“That’s it, s’good for me,” he’s grunting, as he pulls out only to slam back in, “best little patient, aren’t you? With your perfect princess cunt, made just for me,”
“Figure out the — ngh — the problem yet?” You tease.
He only grins, as he gives a nasty thrust of his hips, wiping all sense from your head, “Filthy case of pretty Princess cunt — PPC — and it’s a particularly bad one,” he’s slowing down to stretch out the wet squelch of your cunt, “hear that? It’s the sound of your pussy latching onto me, practically strangling my cock,” and he’s picking up speed, as he lifts your other leg over his shoulder and — fuck how is he going deeper?
“Gonna come in for all your appointments and let me fuck you, right? Gonna fill you right, you have just what you need, the perfect medicine is this dick in this cunt, and the prescription is for every day, sweetheart,” he’s pistoning in and out of you, “pretty baby keeps pulling me back in, it may be incurable,” but he’s only fucking you harder, “but I’m going to try.”
The hospital bed is certainly ruined by now, from the creaks and groans it’s giving, it’s nearly as close to breaking as you are. Just a little deeper, a little more.
“Taking me so well, such a good girl,” his cock is twitching inside you, “fuck, s’good f’me, just for me,”
“Toru, ‘m close,” and his hips are stuttering, as he groans your name.
“Cum f’me, sweetheart,” and you do — your orgasm has you gripping him tight, as he continues to fuck you through it, rough thrusts that has you moaning far too loud, “close, gonna cum—where—“
“Inside, please,” and your eyes find his, lust blown out, as your hips grind against his, “I need my medicine,”
And he only groans in reply, sinking his cock as deep as he can before cumming, his warm seed filling you up, as his hips jerk against yours once, twice, before he’s easing your legs down, to lay on top of you.
Both of your heavy pants fill the room, as his face rests nestled in your chest, his lips pressing sweet kisses to the skin, “I am definitely not helping you sanitize this room, Toru,”
He pouts, “Oh c’mon it’s half of your mess, most of your mess — you were soaking me—“
“I did you a favor by coming to help you practice conducting an intake and diagnosing a patient, I’m not cleaning up this mess too,” you sigh, as he relents, leaning up to kiss your lips.
“Well you did cum a lot I’ll give you that,” and you push his face away, but he only drags his tongue up your fingers. You flush, “you’re the worst doctor,” you grumble.
“But I’m your favorite one, after all,” he grins, easing himself out, as you gasp, watching your mixed releases leak from your cunt, “I’m the only one who can give you your medicine.”
A few hours before….
“C’mon, baby, I need to practice,” your boyfriend curled his arms around you, burying his face in your neck, trying to pull your attention from the book your nose was buried in currently, “i need to practice,”
“I don’t think practicing is what’s on your mind right now, Toru,” you roll your eyes as he presses wet kisses up your neck, “you’re being distracting,”
“You distract me just by existing,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes, “at least if I practice with you, I can do something,” and you can’t say no to him, could you?
“Fine but why can’t we practice here?” And he’s shrugging, only grinning in reply.
“I can get more into the mindset of a doctor at the clinic,” he’s holding up the key he had sweet talked out of the security guard, “it’s a chance for me to get some practical experience. No one else will be around. Just you and me. Please?”
“…fine,” you sigh, as he kisses you again, “but you’ll behave?”
“Promise,” he grins — but you knew Satoru Gojo never behaved - especially when it came to you.
✴︎ a/n: my sister's practice asking me medical questions for an intake finally came in handy.
✴︎ taglist: @mwtsxri, @buttercupmuffins, @sinnerstardoll, @ziieanna12, @capitana18girl, @musababy, @miacakess, @secretmoneybearvoid, @sincerelyyrosemary, @dazailover1900, @maybe-a-bi-witch, @mnare, @kiyoomis-side, @complexivelovely, @imjustmememe, @pandaluvr, @affendy86, @scarlet-kazuha, @peachedtv, @spooky-nanners, @runmeoverkth, @nicobicobee, @kvroshit, @superluver, @paperairplanescanfly, @professorweezy, @i-literally-cant-with-this, @sachirobabe, @aothotties, @naughteehee, @ohphi, @roanryan16, @happyface002, @starrylibras, @sxatorugojoswife, @unamilanesa, @lycheeclare, @oreo-bozado, @yeehawslap, @hidanleftoe, @reaperxdeath
#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo fanfiction#satoru gojo smut#jjk smut#jjk x resder#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#satoru gojo x you#gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru fanfiction
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overtime (m. schmidt x reader)
request: "Hey ! Just discovered your account and I love your writtings ! I was wondered if you could write a smut and romantic thing with mike ? I dont have any specific context and all its up to you ! <3"
note: ty sm for showing love to my work and for requesting!! i finally was able to write something actually sweet with mike for the first time lmao.
pairing: mike schmidt x reader
tags: small age gap, fingering, missionary
after putting abby to sleep, you fell asleep yourself in front of the tv. you couldn't help it! it was a long night of cooking spaghetti for abby (and ordering pizza, per her request), helping her build a fort, and coloring with her inside it. abby's a sweet kid, but babysitting has always tired you out in general. plus her older brother, your boss, started working the graveyard shift at his new job, so it would be unfeasible for you to not go to sleep during your time spent over there.
you woke up to the chair next to you being shifted in, and open your eyes to see mike sitting there, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. you feel embarrassed that you fell asleep on the job and quickly explain yourself. "i'm so sorry for falling asleep, i was just—"
he looks at you. "no need to apologize. i don't expect you to wait all night long for me."
awkward silence fills the air. well, that settles that. god, he's so cute, you think, even all stressed out and with bags under his eyes. he's also been nothing but kind to you since the two of you met. always concerned with how you're doing, how school is holding up, and just generally about your wellbeing. you try to do reciprocate as it's obvious mike doesn't have a lot of people in his life doing the same for him.
you're the first to break the silence. "uhm, there's leftover pizza in the fridge... you know, in case you want any..." you comment, not quite sure what else to say to him.
"oh! thank you," he says. "did abby ask you to..."
"make her spaghetti and order pizza? yes, she absolutely did."
both you and mike laugh. "i'll make sure i can pay you back for that. you really didn't have to—"
"mike," you interrupt, "seriously, don't worry about it. i understand your situation and i want to help you."
mike looks at you gratefully, almost lovingly.
"y'know—"
"so, i should really—"
the both of you talk at the same time. "oh, sorry, you go."
you smile gently. "no, you go. i was just going to say i should hit the road."
he runs a hand through his hair again, eyes darting across the room bashfully. "well i — uh, i just wanted to say thank you for all you do for abby... and for me. it means a lot. you're very... kind."
your smile widens at his awkward choice of words, but it deeply touches you that he appreciates you. you place a hand on top of his. "of course, mike. i'm always here for you."
mike looks at your hand and inhales deeply through his nose. "will you — will you stay for just a little while longer?"
before you know it he's on top of you on the couch, slamming his middle and ring finger inside you while you bite back moans. "gotta be nice and quiet for me, sweetheart. can't wake abby up, okay? or else i gotta stop and neither of us want that," he whispers to you sweetly.
instead of letting you respond, mike presses his lips against yours in a deep kiss while he continues to finger you. you break apart to quietly call his name, letting him know that you're close.
much to your dismay, he pulls his fingers out before you can come. "mike, please," you whisper.
"please, what, honey?" he teases.
you squeeze your thighs together, trying to relieve the tension in your core. "please fuck me already."
mike presses his forehead against yours, breathing sharply as he slowly pushes inside you, inch by inch. you bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out as your pussy swallows his hard length.
as he begins to move, he also clearly struggles to keep his noises to a minimum. as a solution, he envelopes you in a kiss as he moves inside you. his pace gradually increases from gentle to faster. the feeling is absolutely delicious.
he can feel your pussy spasming around him and his own dick pulsing too. he uses the hand caging you in on the couch to hold yours as he continues to fuck you.
"feel so good around me, baby," he whispers hotly. "you have no idea what you — ngh — do to me. every time i see you i always think about fucking you like this."
"mike," you moan quietly. his words only encouraged you.
his name becomes a whispered chant falling from your lips as he fucks you through your own orgasm. he's sure to pull out and come on your stomach while he pumps himself.
mike wipes the sweat off of his forehead and sits up so your legs lay over his lap. "sorry for pushing you into overtime," he jokes.
you give a small laugh. "no worries. it was my pleasure."
mike shakes his head at your dumb joke. then his smile fades and he looks at you seriously. "is it... too early to say that i love you?"
you lean up and meet his lips in a kiss as your answer.
#five nights at freddy's#fnaf#fnaf smut#fnaf movie#fnaf x reader#mike schmidt#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt smut#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson x reader
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