#red tv blurbs

[teddybeartoji]

彡 "A PICTURE WOULD LAST LONGER"

☆. contains: neighbor!jason todd x fem!reader; fluff, he's down baaad wc: 0.5k

the sun is shining and it's the perfect time to go read in the park. feeling yourself, you put on a more risque outfit but what is the point of having nice clothes, if you just 'save' them for special events that you don't even go to.

you're in the midst of getting out of your apartment when a familiar voice speaks up from behind you.

"where are you going?"

"hello to you too, jason" you smile at him "i'm going to the park. to read. it's so nice out today."

"like that?"

a beat. your face falls and his heart stops.

"you don't like it?"

"no- no, i like it. i like it a lot. a- a lot." he quickly stutters out. "i just don't know anyone else who dresses up to go read but i guess you can never be overdressed, only underdressed, right?"

the frown is now replaced with a bright smile and he feels warm. and that feeling multiplies when he spots a light pink tone on your cheeks. you are so adorable.

"i don't know if this is called dressing up, i just wanted to look nice."

as if you don't look fucking perfect every day.

"you look pretty all the time, angel" he chuckles. you mumble a quiet 'thank you'. the light pink tint on your cheeks is now turning full red and you try to collect yourself by turning to lock your door. you feel his eyes on you.

"would you mind if i joined you?"

"what?" you turn back to him and you can't help but think how good he looks. it's still early morning and he looks like he woke up just an hour ago. hair still a mess and sweats hanging low on his hips. nobody should have the right to look this good this early, and yet he does.

"to the park. to read, i mean. it really is nice out."

"yeah, of- of course."

he flashes you a gorgeous smile and rushes to change and to get his book.

you guys stop by a coffee shop and get something to drink. he of course pays, even though you literally try to fight him over it. in the park you find a bench that sits in the sun and settle yourselves comfortably on it. you find your books and a pleasant silence takes over.

he can't really focus though. how could he? the sun is warm on your face and he just cannot stop looking at you. how you eyes glide over the words in your book, how every once in a while you gnaw on your lip. he wonders how it would feel to kiss you. to hold you in his arms. he has to hold himself back when a stray hair falls in your face. he watches you push it back behind your ear and everything is in slow motion. finally you catch him staring and now it's your turn to flash him a shy smirk.

"a picture would last longer, sweetheart"

oh, he's so fucked. 

[lovelybunn]

ᗪᕼᗰIՏ ᗰᗩՏTᗴᖇᒪIՏT .

← go back to navi...

if a character that you want from this fandom isn't here, please check the request rules then ask!

ᖇᗴᗪ ᘜᑌY;

dating hcs

him w/ kids

ㅤ

YᗴᒪᒪOᗯ ᘜᑌY;

him w/ kids

ㅤ

ᗪᑌᑕK;

him w/ kids

ㅤ

ՏKᗴTᑕᕼᗷOOK;

nothing here... yet.

ㅤ

ᗴᒪᗴᑕTᖇᗩᑕY;

nothing here... yet.

ㅤ

ՏTᗩIᑎ ᗴᗪᗯᗩᖇᗪՏ;

nothing here... yet.

ㅤ

ᗯᗩᖇᖇᗴᑎ Tᕼᗴ ᗯOᖇᗰ/ᗴᗩᘜᒪᗴ;

romantic hcs

ㅤ

ᑕOᒪIᑎ Tᕼᗴ ᑕOᗰᑭᑌTᗴᖇ;

nothing here... yet.

ㅤ

TᖇᗩᑎՏᑭOᖇT;

nothing here... yet.

[lovingpiastri]

ANGEL KISSES IN SPRING (op81 x female!mclaren engineer reader)

ᯓ★ sweet request from my very best mutual @333-th34 : moral of the story , never leave oscar in his drivers room hot and bothered !! (blurb)

warnings: making out and heavy sexual tension

everything about the current situation was the riskiest of all risks . if there was a tv channel with this weeks top ten jeopardies , you and oscar would be posted up on rank number one for the next two years . why you may ask? picture this : getting hot and heavy in oscar's drivers room isn't exactly the most romantic ordeal to walk in on , especially as fraternising is an unspoken rule !

but it was so hard to resist !

and that is exactly why you were straddling oscar , desperate and needy to feel his touch . more importantly his butter soft lips grazing yours which were adorned in the cheapest drug store lip gloss . speaking of which , instead of staying on your lips it transferred onto oscar's .

your hands were intertwined in his hair harshly , carrying the act out of an occasional tug to force a pathetic whine to escape oscar's throat . on the other hand oscar was more than respectful , arms draped onto your waist gently, too scared to allow them to travel south .

the sound of people bustling outside only increases to the endorphins releasing inside your body , not to mention the creeping fact that you need to come to terms of being an adrenaline junkie . but that was a story for another day , it wasn't time to bottom out when a yearning oscar was beneath you .

"please ." he mumbles with a slightly cry with the target of gaining the slightest bit of pity from you . however oscar's cries of need didn't persuade you to halt your travels of kissing down his neck with the sporadical nip of your teeth from time to time .

oscar seals his eyes close at your scavenging for his sweet spot , but once you do it's like heaven crashes down onto earth & due to the fortunate turn of events oscar vibratos a loud moan . loud enough to wake the dead if you will .

it has to be a coincidence that as soon as that whine escapes oscar's throat unscathed , all the buzzing preparations for the race siezes to an end making you and oscar feel caught red handed for a crime you didn't commit .

a silence fills the atmosphere causing you to snap your head towards to door , making sure all coasts are clear before returning to your predicament . but as you turn around , oscar is gazing at the door clueless as ever despite the circumstances.

with that damn hot pink glittery lip gloss slathered all around his mouth.

©lovingpiastri

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“cream cheese” - mid meeting, Hotch crosses a line you didn’t think he would

Hotchner x gn!reader, 500 words

I’m trying blurbs! Drabbles, whatever you’d like to call them. Lmk if you like it ok love you bye

——————————

You’re sitting beside Hotch at the round table. The conference room is usually where you start the day, and today is no different - except for the fact that Penelope, bless her heart, brought everyone bagels.

It doesn’t even matter that there’s a grisly photo of a murder victim on the TV in front of you.

Compartmentalization is key when working for the BAU, so you just avoid looking at it and instead chomp down - an Asiago bagel with chive cream cheese? You eat it like a sandwich, the massive amount of cream cheese you put on it spilling out the sides.

“You’re gonna need to brush your teeth after that,” Derek said when you assembled your bagel. You just playfully flipped him off and carried on, earning a chuckle from Hotch - Aaron, he insists you call him.

Being your boss’s significant other does not have the perks that the movies say it would. He does not show you special treatment on a daily basis, nor does he pull you off to the side for spontaneous interludes in the middle of the day. Hotch is very black and white. He likes rules. He likes sticking to those rules.

And you love him for it.

“What’s the geographical distance between the first two victims?” You ask as you glance down at your paperwork.

Spencer spouts off the answer like he memorized it on a flash card the night before, and you quietly thank him. You open your mouth to ask another question, but the feeling of a thumb swiping across your upper lip stops you from speaking.

You freeze, looking up slowly and turning your head to the culprit. Aaron’s thumb catches a chunk of cream cheese, and he wipes it off onto a nearby napkin. You’re completely flabbergasted by this, for the very straightforward reason that Aaron does not touch you at work. He doesn’t even let you rest your head on his shoulder on the jet.

Your eyes meet Aaron’s and your cheeks turn immediately red. “You were about to lose it,” Aaron explains softly. He seems to be shocked by his own actions. You can tell by the way his eyes soften. He doesn’t blush, though, and you kind of hate him for it.

Your gaze darts to the rest of the team.

Spencer is totally oblivious to what has happened, but Derek leans back in his chair with a smirk in his face, Emily and JJ are grinning at each other, and Penelope is very clearly stifling a giggle.

Rossi is the one who breaks the awkward silence. “Twenty miles between victims one and two, that’s fascinating,” he proposes.

Aaron clears his throat and looks at you briefly. It’s a fleeting expression, but you will forever have it ingrained in your brain - his lips curled in the smallest smirk, a twinkle in those dark brown eyes. As he turns in his chair to scoot closer to the table, you feel the tips of his fingers just barely graze your thigh.

“Right, let’s debrief more on the jet,” he suggests, stacking his folders efficiently and rising from his desk chair. “Wheel’s up in 30.”

[sturnioz]

this randomly came to while reading one of your blurbs, imagine shy!reader trying to break things off with fratboy!chris, i can just imagine pulling him for a talk and saying “i can’t do this anymore” and him just saying “no”. you’re sitting there all confused like what “huh?” and chris is just there with a dumb smile on his face shaking his head no while going back to doing whatever he was doing lol

you've been wrestling with your thoughts for what feels like ages now, contemplating how to end your complicated relationship with chris — one that doesn't mirror the love stories you see on tv or read about in books. instead, it feels like a twisted version of what a relationship should be.

even your friend had voiced her own concerns, her words grilling into your brain like a persistent echo. she told you that chris isn't right for you, insisting that you deserve someone who genuinely cares — someone who would proudly call you their girlfriend, and shower you with the love and affection you've been craving.

the thought of that kind of relationship feels both tantalising and painfully out of reach.

as you walk through the open door to the frat house, your heart races in your chest, the thrum of anxiety loud in your ears. you keep your head low, your cheeks hot as you navigate through, avoiding the wandering frat brothers who are in nothing but shorts and sweatpants, their laughter and shouts filling the air, oblivious to your presence.

you spot him in the cluttered living-room, sprawled out on the couch, a lollipop dangling carelessly from his mouth. the coffee table is a chaotic spread of baggies filled with weed, coke and other substances — unfortunately it's always been a usual sight for you.

when chris finally glances up, his expression is one of mild curiosity, his eyebrow arching slightly, "what are you doin' here?"

"what you doin' here?"

"i..." you hesitate, your throat tightening as you search for the right words. you swallow hard, trying to steady your racing heart as you spill, "i can't do this anymore."

"do what?" he asks, his tone casual.

"us — this — whatever this... is."

the lollipop clicks against his teeth as he moves it around his mouth, his dilated pupils locked onto your with an unsettling intensity. he's silent for a moment, then he snorts dismissively. "nah."

you're taken aback by his response, blinking rapidly as confusion washes over you. "huh?"

chris gives you a lazy smile and without breaking eye contact, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another lollipop — your favourite flavour. your eyes widen in surprise as he offers it to you, and you hesitantly reach out to take it between your fingers, staring at the red treat.

"go uh, go wait in my room f'me, 'kay? got some shady people comin' from a different frat to buy this shit so i don' want you hangin' around down here," he says, his tone nonchalantly, effortlessly shifting the conversation. he gives you a look. "go. now."

you nod slowly, turning on your heel and making your way toward the stairs, your bottom lip jutting out in a frown. as your glance back over your shoulder, you see him counting the products on the table before glancing back down at the treat in your hands.

a small smile pulls at your lips as you unwrap the lollipop, the familiar scent filling your senses. you can't help but feel a flutter of affection, even as a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you of the conversation you just attempted to have.

but as you make your way to his room, the sweetness of the lollipop begins to dull your thoughts, pushing aside all the questions and doubts.

[hearts4golbach]

heyy could you write to Johnnie Guilbert x female reader where the reader paints his tattoos with a marker?

(idk if this is a good idea but I saw his new tattoo and thought how much fun it would be to paint)

Stained Skin.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

this is so cuteeee I love writing blurbs like this. I was also thinking that whenever I saw his new tattoo omgggg

proofread

warnings:

tooth rotting fluff???

word count:

0.5k

you traced Johnnies tattoos, admiring them as he laid next to you watching tv. an idea popped into your head, so you broke the comfortable silence. "Do you still have all of my markers over here?"

he hummed sleepily. "they should be in the drawer." he nodded his head towards his desk.

you ran your thumb over his cheek gently. "Can i color in your tattoos?" you asked with a smile.

he looked down at you, confused as to where the odd request came from. "Yeah, of course."

you crawled out of bed and gathered your markers. you helped him slip his shirt off. "Which ones do you wanna color?"

you hummed, "Let me color in your back first."

he pecked your lips gently before flipping over. you began to color in the roof of the house. you colored them a deep forest green. you rubbed your thumb on his back as you rested your other hand. "it kind of tickled." Johnnie laughed. you loved seeing his smile.

you giggled, "Don't worry, babe, it's going to look great."

johnnies tattoos were one of your favorite aspects of him. you loved how he portrayed his interests through what's he got done. you switched to a light blue to color in the windows. you placed the cap back on the marker. "Turn around, i'll work on that one later. can i color your neck?"

"Yeah," he gripped your waist as you crawled into his lap. you moved his hair as he tilted his head to the side you wanted. you grabbed a deep red for the wings of the bat. he giggled. "i'm too ticklish for this,"

you paused  to kiss his cheek. you took a deep gray and began to color the fur of the bat. "we should get matching tattoos." you mention. you smiled to yourself. " You should get my name tattooed."

"fuck it, i will." he ran his fingers through your hair.

"yeah, right." you replied sarcastically. you finished coloring in the bat and sat up. you looked over his arms as you picked which tattoo you wanted to color next. you changed your mind, choosing the goosebumps tattoo on his shoulder.

you colored it in a dark green and made the eyes red and purple. "mkay, I'm done. flip over for me, baby."

you hummed quietly to yourself as you continued coloring in his back tattoo. you began to color in the walls of the house a dark purple, adding streaks of black to make it look more worn down.

you placed a soft kiss on Johnnies shoulder. "okay, all done." you put up your markers.

"can you take a picture of my back for me, love?" he asked, sitting up.

you picked up Johnnies phone and snapped a photo of his back and the other tattoos you colored in.

"they're so cute." you commented.

he kissed your cheek and proceeded the posy the photos on his story. he captioned it 'She made me a coloring book @Y/nL/n.'

[sun-snatcher]

[ SLUMBER ] FROM YOUR PROMPT WITH ANOMALY!READER & CHAMBIT I BEG YOU

♧ ⎯ IN-BETWEENER'S ILIAD

summ.  You slip into a dream. Remy is reminded he’s not yours. Not in a way. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader , (established in #WELUCKYFEW) a/n.  A quick blurb! A spot of world-build, angst, and soft Gambit.

YOU TAKE UP THAT OFFER in Professor Xavier’s school.

Nothing crazy, Laura had told you. The Professor’s just looking for substitutes. Tutor on the side, maybe, for those who need a little help.

Your BioMed PhD serves you well. ( Though you didn’t quite have the proof of documents— Charles had only needed a second of a venture through your memories for the truth. “Welcome home,” is all he’d said, after. His gaze was kind. “And I am so sorry.” ) 

Falling into stride doesn’t take long. The Academy grounds are as memorable to you as the back of your hands. It’s mostly your mutant students and the nostalgia of meeting the X-Men— some familiar faces, some startlingly different— that tuckers you out.

The Professor introduces you as an alumni, funnily enough. You cover Biology; spend your days tutoring for other subjects when it calls for it— Science, Chemistry, Mathematics. School nurse in a pinch, too.

It’s no wonder Remy catches you dozing off on the chaise sofa, red pen clumsily lost on the carpet floor underneath a coffee table of scattered assignments and half-marked paperwork, household vinyl player humming by the corner.

Not an uncommon sight, lately. He usually sees you burning the midnight oil when he’s off to the pub downtown. (“Night-shifts as a Croupier. The locals love me an’ it’s honest work— jus’ a lagniappe that Gambit be enjoyin’ it, too.”)  *

He shifts to a crouch to meet your shut eyes.

“Chèr,” he whispers, trying not to startle you. “Can’t be makin’ dodo here.”  *

No answer. Your soft lips are parted. Susurrus, butterfly-wing breaths.

The jaundiced lamplight left switched on by the TV pours over you like a chiaroscuro. Sleep has you boneless with relaxation— hackles not raised and prepared for a fight; not throwing cursory glances at the shadows over your shoulders.

(War changes people. You’re still trying to get better at dismantling that habitual weariness. Logan gets it.) 

Against his better judgement, Remy tucks a strand behind your ear. 

A hum. You stir. Eyes lift heavily with sleep. 

…Gambit?

“Oui, chèr.”

Mission success? you mumble. S’everybody okay?

It takes Remy a moment to realise. 

You’re not… here. You’re lost somewhere in-between the waking world and dreaming. Unmoored between different branches of timelines; adrift in pelagic-vast realities. You’re talking to phantoms. Haunted by a Remy long gone.

Something pangs in his heart.

He can’t quite decipher it. A blur of compassion, contrition. 

…Quiet disappointment. 

“Mais oui,” he breathes. (You can feel the timbre of his hushed voice in your head. Accented. Gentle. You’re lulled, further and further.) It wouldn’t do to confuse you now, afterall.

He dips forward.

Winds an arm under your knees and your shoulders, then lifts you with gliding ease. Careful, even in his footfalls as he makes his way down the hall and to your bedroom, cradling you like glass against his chest— Safe; Secure; Impossibly tender coming from a man monikered after the Devil himself. 

Exhaustion drags you under once you sink into your pillows, feel the ghost of his warm touch linger at your nape.

G’night, Remy.

He doesn’t know who you’re speaking to, this time.

“...Sweet dreams, chèr.”

*Cajun footnotes:

Lagniappe — extra Make dodo — to go to sleep

[platinumshawnn]

IT’S A BAD DAY | jburrow

A/N: lol i just tried writing a blurb to ease back into writing and had no ideas, someone help or send requests or ideas

Warnings: none — just fluff involving baby daddy joe being disappointed following his injury in November

word count: 2.2k

“IT’S A TERRIBLE DAY FOR BENGALS FANS AS ZAC TAYLOR ANNOUNCED TONIGHT THAT JOE BURROW WILL BE OUT FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE SEASON,” The sports anchor stated over the television in the living room, his tone exaggerated and more over the top than the average person — scripted and unnatural as the words rolled off his tongue. The lock on the door beeped as it released from its latch, allowing Joe to step into the warmth of their shared home with a sigh, head down as he dragged his feet against the rug in the entranceway to wipe any moisture from the soles of his shoes. He used his elbow to push the door closed behind him as he then turned to lock it, eyes being drawn to the tv as the anchorman continued his report, “The head coach confirmed during a press briefing tonight that following an MRI, Burrow was confirmed to have torn a ligament in his right wrist during tonight’s game against the Baltimore Ravens.”

Joe turned his head, a blank look scanning the foyer around him as he listened for some sort of greeting from within the house; his eyes attracted to the pictures that were hung up on the walls as he stepped further into the house. His gaze was particularly drawn to a picture of his girlfriend and him their first Christmas together, blinking a couple of times.

“Hello?” He finally called out. He was met with silence as Joe turned on his heel to look further into the living room, scanning before his gaze stopped on the couch.

He could see the top of her head over the end of the couch from his position in the doorway as he set his duffle bag down by his feet, where from his spot he knew she was asleep; her blue throw blanket pulled over her and up to her chin, unfazed by the tv that had been left on while she slept — he could only assume she had nodded off during the game, maybe even some time during the recaps after their loss that night. The anchorman’s voice was filled with enthusiasm as he broke down some game plays, though the sound and his words were a smear of sounds that he couldn’t comprehend in that moment; he was tired of hearing about the game today, tired of hearing how screwed the team was for the season and his injury — his wrist throbbed at the thought of Zac’s earlier words to him.

“You’re going to bounce back from this one,” he said as the physician carefully turned his wrist, gloved hands palpating and careful as they danced around his wrist; pinching his fingertips, occasionally speaking up to ask Joe where the pain came from, describe it, can you feel when I squeeze your hand? Any numbness or tingling?

“You always bounce back, Joe, don’t worry.”

The side of his left hand was still sore from slamming into the wall in the change room when he returned from the medic office while Zac had stepped out to speak to the physician more, frustrated that he had thrown away another season. That kind of deep, throbbing pain that radiated down his wrist and into his forearm, sore and stiff from clenching his fist so tight his knuckles had turned white. He was drained. His cheeks were flushed with a mottled pink appearance, nose blushed a deep red from the cold as he used his left hand to pull off his hat and clenched it — she was asleep. His head tilted, blue eyes straining in the dark to make out her figure, curled up on the couch even with the dim light from the tv and the table side lamp that he didn’t even want — they got it because she adored the hideous thing when she found it at a thrift shop with its multi coloured, red, blue, white and yellow base that was painted with misshapen flowers; it wasn’t bright but it did the job.

Joe disregarded kicking off his shoes as he quietly walked into the living room, the quiet hum of the reporter still in the background as he circled the couch, eyes on her as he moved like a man on a mission, never leaving her as he stood back a few feet. She remained still and quiet, unaware of his presence as her eyes fluttered in her slumber as her shoulder rose and fell with slow, deep breaths; curled up on her side and hugging the decorative pillow underneath her. The tension in his features was released as he fully stopped in front of her, his jaw unclenching for the first time in hours and eyes softening with admiration as he paused, a mental image being captured of this moment only then before he quietly shuffled forward to crouch at the foot of the couch, his hand pressing into the cushion by her head and turning his head right to align with hers. His right hand, clad in a thick cast, cradled in his lap as he took a moment just to relish in the peace of the moment before he would have to wake her and urge her to come to bed — he couldn’t leave her there, as much as he hated to wake her. His left hand rose to gently brush over her hair, her mouth pinching into a pucker in her sleep as she seemed to respond to the simple touch and furrowing her eyebrows as her disoriented gaze shifted to scan her surroundings for a moment; landing beyond him before they landed on his face, yawning.

“Hi.” He quietly greeted, the hand over her hair brushing back strands from her cheek as she rolled on her back and turned her head to look up at him as she tugged the blanket away from being tangled around her feet.

She yawned once more, “You’re back already.” She stated.

Joe nodded, watching as she slowly moved to sit up, his hand reaching out to support the transition by her shoulder. The blanket fell from her chest to stop at her waist, snug around the bump that had increasingly grown over the past few months, prominent even in the baggiest sweaters these days despite her best efforts; there was no hiding their boy these days. His hand dropped from her shoulder to her belly, fingers splayed out over the firm bump, his eyes following the movement, “Hi to you too.” He quietly added, leaning over the couch to press a kiss to her belly, the fabric of her t-shirt rough under his lips as he withdrew to sit back on the balls of his feet.

Her left hand came to rest over his at her belly, sitting upright and shifting to lean back against the arm rest as she blinked away the sleep from her eyes, her eyes shifting to the tv. A silence passed between them as she seemed to register what had just conspired on tv a few hours prior, bearing witness to the end of his season as she sat up straighter, anxiously awaiting some kind of news; her eyes turned to look back to him. His head turned, shoulders moving with the turn as well as he glanced back at the tv then turned away as he caught the vague mention of his name, gaze dropping to the carpet beneath him.

“What did they say?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the frustration creep back up his chest and up the back of his throat as he inhaled, sucking in a deep breath that he held for a few seconds, “Torn ligament.” He replied.

She nodded as her hand moved from overtop his to reach out and grab his shoulder to pull him forward so he rolled onto his knees; the cradled hand awkwardly planting on the edge of the couch as his head fell forward and pressed his forehead to her stomach, her hand immediately raking through his hair, “We can work with that.” She confidently replied he sat in silence, “You should just need a surgery— they can go in and repair it, rehab, and you should bounce back.” She added, her eyes focused on the back of his head as his shoulders rose and fell with a sigh.

“Another surgery.” He replied, his voice muffled as he spoke in a tone that was laced with defeat; the tension in his shoulders evident as her fingers worked to fix the hair atop of his head. The blonde locks were moved into a smoothed over fashion, as it had previously been done by gel before the game, stood in front of the mirror for all of twenty seconds before he had blown her a kiss goodbye over Facetime and left, optimism and determination in his step.

He lifted his eyes, “Another surgery.” He echoed, her eyes searching his face.

He watched as her mouth pressed into a fine line, the faintest trace of a frown on the corners of her mouth as her gaze took in the sight of him before her — the lines that had settled themselves between his brows, surrounding his mouth and the circles underneath his eyes that held a bluish hue to them, the result of exhaustion.

“You’ll play again, though.” She pointed out, watching as he crumpled against the couch again, his shoulders slumping forward with a slight shudder. “You will, Joe.”

“I know.” He grumbled, his voice small like a child.

“This could be good for you— you could use the rest,” She tried to reason with her boyfriend who was quiet apart from a sniffle in response. “You can spend more time at home with me and the baby, rest and you will be back before you know it.”

Her gaze drifted towards the ceiling, absentmindedly playing with his hair as he sat quietly, soaking in her words; feeling as her belly rose and fell underneath his head with each steady, deep breath she took. That damn reporter was still talking. “Is that all, Doc?” He asked, his voice still quiet but trying to make the effort to follow her attempts to guide him back to the bright side of things — the optimist. He could feel the shake of her body as she laughed underneath him.

“Yeah, I think so.” She replied, taking a deep breath. “Rest and some good quality time with your beautiful, intelligent girlfriend and your baby boy.” She added.

Joe hummed, eyebrows furrowing as he took a deep breath that mirrored hers before sighing it out and raising his head to look at her again. She turned to look at him as though she had sensed his eyes on her, a small smile on her face, “I just hate the recovery process of these things.” He admitted, earning a nod in turn.

“I know.” She said, her tone almost holding a hint of amusement as if to echo his earlier response to her attempts to reason with him. A tired smile appeared on his face, letting out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff as he sniffled and used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe his nose.

“We should get you to bed.”

Her gaze followed him as he moved to stand and held out his hands to her — an instinctive offer of assistance as he stood in front of her, watching as she struggled with a grunt to sit back up and swing her legs off the couch, bracing her feet against the hardwood floor beneath them. Her eyes shifted to glance at the cast, watching as he reluctantly dropped the right hand, before looking up and reaching out for his left to grip as he aided in pulling her with ease to her feet — and without pause, her arms extending up to wrap around his shoulders as she exhaled a deep breath once she was up, a sound that resembled a content sigh.

“You know we love you regardless, right?” She asked, half-lidded eyes tiredly scanning his features with a look of love and affection in her eyes as his arms encircled her waist and rested his hands at her hips; the cast awkwardly inhibiting the action — he towered over her, his shoulders slouched to accommodate the height difference between them. “James and I love you regardless of how broken you are, you’re amazing — with or without football.” She softly said.

His left hand rubbed up and down her side, having to swallow down the emotion that crept up his throat once again as she spoke, his eyes squeezing shut as they stung with oncoming tears, “Yeah.” He whispered, nodding.

“You will overcome this, you always do.” She said, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. There was a certainty in her tone that he admired — she never seemed to second guess herself and he adored that confidence, his eyes opening and blinking rapidly a couple of times before he nodded. She awkwardly wobbled to reach behind him and gather the remote, turning off the tv behind him and setting the remote back down on the couch with a toss. Her arm linked with his while her other hand rested against her hip, inhaling and rolling her shoulders, “Come, you look like you need some sleep.” She encouraged, her eyes down on her feet as she began to lead the pair towards the stairs to the second floor; his gaze on her with a look of adoration, grateful for the grace she possessed even when he lacked it.

[avatar-anna]

i’ve been thinking about hockeyrry lately and then i see this…. now all i can think about is hockeyrry having an argument with yn and having to do promo after a game, when all he really wants to do is find his gf and make up with cuddles and kisses :(((

this turned out to be a lot longer and not the short/cute little blurb i initially planned. enjoy more shenanigans from hockey harry and skater reader!

Hockey player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

"So, Harry, what are your thoughts on the team's performance tonight?"

You watched the screen in front of you begrudgingly, sticking your spoon in your bowl of ice cream and eating it, perhaps a little too aggressively. But you didn't change the channel, not wanting to miss a moment of Harry on camera, no matter how much he drove you crazy sometimes.

The fight had been brief, but arguments were something you and Harry were rather good at, and this one was no different. Harry ended up leaving for his game in a huff as you rolled your eyes at his back, and even though you were more than slightly pissed off, you sat down to watch his game on TV anyway.

His team won, but barely. Harry's mind was clearly elsewhere—he took more penalties than necessary and even more checks against the boards, each slam of his body against the plexiglass making you tense up. He clearly had been in two places at once, and for that, you felt guilty. Your argument wasn't inconsequential, and you intended to finish it less intensely when he came home, but now that you'd simmered a bit you regretted fighting with Harry right before he left, as it clearly affected his performance on the ice tonight.

"Obviously, we didn't play our best," Harry said into the interviewer's microphone. "I'm certainly disappointed in myself. In more ways than one."

His poor eyes were tired, bags hanging beneath them, his nose red and irritated. And his voice was hoarse too, unlike the way it normally was when he first woke up in the morning. From that to his pale skin, you could've sworn Harry had gotten sick in the few hours he'd been gone.

"How do you unwind after a game that was tough both physically and mentally like tonight?"

Harry rubbed a tired hand over his entire face. He was polite, but you could tell a post-game interview was the last place he wanted to be. "Erm, just go home. Rest, meditate, I guess."

"Meditate? You meditate? Can you walk us through that process?"

"Uh..." You watched Harry visibly deflate on camera but stay where he was. With a sniffle, he continued. "There's not much to it. Just measured breathing, peace and quiet, and going to bed early."

"Well, we won't keep you from your post-game meditation, Harry. Just one last question!"

You watched the interview wrap up and the sports channel switch over to a broadcast of a different game. Waiting for him to come home, you began to prepare for bed. You set out Harry's softest sweats and favorite crew neck, put new essential oils in the diffuser by his bed, and a new box of tissues along with a steaming mug of tea. You were almost positive he was sick, and when Harry was sick...he became something of a little baby. But he was your baby to take care of, even if you had just been arguing a few hours ago.

A little while later, the lock clicked and the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the apartment. A cough and a sniffle followed, and you could already picture his curls flopping against Harry's forehead clumsily as he rubbed his hand against his nose, the green of his eyes bright against tired redness.

"Y/n?" he called. "I'm sorry about our fight earlier. I know we left things on a sour note, but can we press pause on it for now and pick it up on it in a few days? I'm not feeling—"

"It's fine, H," you said, appearing from your bedroom. Your eyes softened as you took in his rumpled suit, the jacket slung over his arm in a heap. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming down with something?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I was. It was just a little throat scratch when I left here, and then—"

He stopped to cough, and you could see him wince as if it hurt his chest. Taking the jacket and duffle bag off his shoulder, you set it down and took his hand, squeezing it as the coughing fit ended. You pulled him down the hall toward your bedroom, ignoring his questions and protests until they stopped when you finally reached the threshold.

"What's all this?" Harry asked, hooded eyes sleepily scanning everything you'd set up.

"Change. Lie down. I'll bring dinner in a few minutes."

"For me?" he said, a little smirk stretching across his face. "You never cook."

"Don't get too excited, it's canned soup," you said, feeling flustered beneath his stare all of a sudden.

You did things for Harry, of course you did. Was it a bad thing that he seemed surprised that you wanted to take care of him? A few years ago, sure, but things were different now. It was only occasionally now that you found him irritating. He was only teasing you, and honestly, you would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

Leaving Harry to change, you got started on heating up his soup. He probably should've had something more substantial than soup from a can, but you hadn't completely ruled out him having the flu yet and wanted to air on the side of caution.

Once everything was set—hot soup, a cup of tea, and some medicine all arranged on a tray—you brought it to the bedroom and set it on Harry's lap. He smiled tiredly at you, mumbling his thanks before digging in. You watched him eat, unsure of what else you should do in the meantime. Harry had asked when he came home to press pause on the argument you'd had before his game, but now you didn't know what to say, argument or otherwise. You wondered if the silence between you and him was only awkward in your mind and not his, or if he was merely hiding his frustration from earlier with you while you doted on him. You didn't want to pick up where the two of you had left off before his game, but it didn't seem right to leave things unfinished, unresolved. Harry certainly didn't seem to notice or betray his own emotions as he sipped on his tea and sniffled between bites of his dinner.

"I'll get you some more blankets."

Before he could respond, you were off the bed, shuffling down the hallway toward the closet where the extra linens were kept.

You felt like you had to keep busy. You told Harry the argument was forgotten, but you couldn't help but feel as though there were words left unspoken between the two of you. And perhaps part of you felt guilty too. The argument started out as a heated discussion, but you let your temper get the best of you, so instead of getting to the bottom of things, you ended up yelling and taunting and refusing to listen. Harry hadn't been a saint in any of it either, you both had a competitive streak, and that extended to disagreements. But this was different. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn't even notice your boyfriend was sick.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the extra blankets and went back into the bedroom.

Not saying a word, you took the tray and set it on the nightstand on Harry's side of the bed. You wrapped him up with more blankets, piling them on until only his face peeked through. Harry grinned at you, his nose and cheeks rosy and eyes only slightly drooping from fatigue. You ignored him, making sure he was properly wrapped before pressing a hand to his forehead to check for fever.

"You're fussing," Harry said, his voice only slightly teasing. "You never fuss."

"Shut up," you muttered, turning around on your heel and taking the tray out of the room.

"Don't be long!" he called, and you could practically feel the grin as you walked away.

Harry was right, of course. You were fussing. Perhaps you were trying to make up for the things you said earlier, for picking a fight with him when you knew he had to leave for his game, though that had been precisely the problem.

Proud didn't even begin to cover how you felt regarding his career. Harry worked so hard, had come so far in such a short period. In what felt like a quick few years, he had become a superstar on the ice, taking the NHL by storm and absolutely dominating his competition. Harry deserved every bit of praise from reporters and journalists, every standing ovation from adoring fans, every interaction from young hockey players who looked up to him. No one deserved it more than Harry, but the bigger he became, the more famous he got, it seemed as though he had less and less time for you.

You knew that being in a relationship with him wouldn't be a walk in the park, you were familiar with the traveling and the long seasons and everything else that came with being in a semi-long distance relationship with an athlete. You and Harry had been together since college, you'd done it and survived it, but this...this was completely different.

The minor leagues were manageable. Harry had a busier schedule than he did in school, but the two of you made it work. When he made it to the NHL, you realized that busy didn't even begin to cover it. Press conferences before games, interviews after games, sponsorship deals, longer seasons, charity games, international tournaments—all of it was one big whirlwind that hit your relationship before you could blink. And you would've been able to withstand all of it if you could see him just a little bit more.

That had been the crux of your argument. You hadn't planned on fighting with Harry about it while he was on his way out to get to the arena, but he'd mentioned being home late to do a couple extra interviews, and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

Returning to your bedroom, you started getting ready for bed. A freshly washed face, brushed teeth, and one of Harry's old university sweatshirts later, and you were sliding into your side, back facing Harry. You could feel him, feel the heat of all those blankets you'd wrapped around him. But you could feel the heavy weight of his stare too, as if he was wordlessly trying to get you to turn around.

"I'm sensing this is some form of punishment," he said. His voice didn't sound as scratchy as it had been when he came home, which you took as a good sign.

"What is?" you asked.

"You wrapping me like a burrito. I can't hold you like this."

You smiled, the image of him frowning down at the plethora of blankets you swaddled him in appearing in your mind.

"You were shivering."

"Was I? I can't recall," Harry said. "I feel like I'm in a furnace now, though."

"That's good. Your fever probably broke."

"You know, as much as I love talking to the back of your lovely head, I'd appreciate it a lot more if I could talk to your even lovelier face."

Taking your time, you rolled over, making sure he saw the amusement on your face. The grin on his own merely brightened, and you hoped he didn't notice you blush.

"Flattery won't get you out of those blankets, Styles," you finally said.

"No, but maybe it'll get you in them with me, soon-to-be-Styles."

Your hand went reflexively to your left hand to fiddle with your engagement ring. You hadn't had it long, but fiddling with it quickly became a habit you intended to keep. The proposal had been a surprise, but it felt right at the same time, as if without really needing to say it, you and Harry were both ready to take that next step. And you couldn't lie, Harry had done an immaculate job with the ring even though you'd never really mentioned what you might be interested in. It was emerald cut, a classic in your opinion, but a light green sapphire instead of a diamond in the middle. "I don't know, you mentioned something about blood diamonds a few months ago and thought you might appreciate something different," Harry had said by way of explanation.

You used to find it annoying—frustrating, even—how much Harry seemed to know you, but the night he proposed—at home after spending a whole afternoon together that he'd planned from start to finish—you thought he was nothing short of perfect.

"Are we okay?" you asked out of the blue, though not really. Thinking about the proposal, the wedding, made you realize that maybe you shouldn't go to bed with an unresolved argument with your fiance.

Harry sighed. "I hope so. I'm sorry. I should've realized how lonely you've been lately. I know this...lifestyle...isn't always the easiest to live with."

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have unloaded on you right before you left. I know how important it is to have a clear head before a game."

"You're important to me, Y/n," he said. Harry struggled for a moment as he tried to free an arm from his blanket cocoon, muttering to himself about your hidden talent for blanket wrapping. You let out a watery laugh as you watched him struggle, then helped him peel the blankets back until he was entirely free. Sitting up, Harry pulled you to him, his hand cupping your cheek. "Now, where were we?"

"Allegedly, I'm important to you," you said, the corner of your mouth tipping up.

"Glad you're in higher spirits," Harry murmured, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. His eyes flitted over your face as if he could read everything you weren't saying, and you were sure he did. He had a knack for that kind of thing. "I should know how much time I've been taking away from you. From us. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't have much control over your game schedule, but I just feel like never see you anymore. I just want—I just want more time with you, that's all. I'm sorry it came out the way it did."

Harry shook his head, used to your tendency to hold your feelings in until they barreled out of you. It was something you were working on, you were only thankful Harry stuck around long enough until you figured it out.

"I know you are. I'm glad you told me, though. Or yelled it at me."

Face flushing, you said, "Sorry. I'm...working on it."

"I know," Harry said, chuckling as he kissed your cheek. "But I don't mind. I love fighting with you."

"I'm so glad," you mumbled.

Laying Harry back down across the bed, you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his cheek and his neck, his skin warm but not feverish. The skin of his cheek was soft against your lips, making you nuzzle your nose deeper into him. Your legs tangled with his as Harry nestled deeper into your arms. Easing up just a little, you leaned back enough to run a hand through his hair, making sure your nails scratched against his scalp the way he liked it.

"Mm. This is almost better than makeup sex," he murmured.

Leaning forward, you nipped at the shell of Harry's ear. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey. I said almost."

You chuckled quietly in his ear before placing another little kiss to his temple. Nudging him with his nose one more time, you said, "Maybe after the playoff season is over, we can go somewhere. Somewhere warm. Maybe even tropical. You can take some time off once the season is officially over, right?"

"I do love seeing you in a bikini—Ow! What? You want me to lie?" Harry said, crying out when you pinched his side.

"You're such a guy sometimes, I swear," you grumbled.

Harry's face split into a grin, and you could feel it as you kept nuzzling his cheek. "So I find my fiance attractive. Since when is that a crime?"

"Someone's feeling better all of a sudden." You began to untangle yourself from Harry, but he held you in place. When you tried to wriggle away from him, he held you in place, wrapping around you like moss on a limb until he had you pinned to the mattress.

"Don't act like you don't like it," he said. "Or that you don't think the same things about me."

"Aren't you sick? Go to sleep!" you said, trying not to smile as he began to kiss you all over just like you'd been doing to him.

"Admit it or you're not getting a vacation," he taunted, his kisses along your neck becoming longer, more languid.

Oh, I'll be getting my vacation, you thought. Whether you played into Harry's hands tonight or not, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

When Harry raised his head and his gaze finally met yours, you raised a single brow. "Oh, don't give me that look, princess. I don't scare that easily, you know that," he said, though when your brow arched just a little bit higher, he sighed and pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Fine then. I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that I find you more attractive than you do me."

"Oh brother," you groaned as you leaned across Harry to turn the lamp on his nightstand off.

Harry's only response was a very pointed sniff into the dark, which made you roll your eyes.

It was quiet as the both of you settled down. It was clear Harry expended the little energy he had, as the sniffles and coughs came back a few minutes after you turned the lights off. Shuffling back over to him, you snuck a hand under his shirt and began running it gently up and down his back. Once again carding your other hand through his hair, you felt him relax a little.

You exhaled deeply, settling in close to Harry and cuddling into the warmth of his body. "Get some rest, H," you murmured, your hand still moving steadily along his back.

You stayed awake until Harry's breaths evened and slowed as he began to snore softly. Your own eyes began to droop, comforted by your fiance's closeness and the resolution you'd been seeking since he'd stormed out of the house earlier today.

It could be worse, you supposed. Of all the people in the world to argue with, you were happy Harry was the one. If this was the outcome every time—minus Harry's illness, of course—you couldn't help but look forward to the rest of your life with him.

[hysteria-things]

pls do one with riding chris’s thigh🙏🏼🙏🏼 this is like so hot idc😔

girl and omg im so in love with your works !!! I’d never believe that u would have haters

THANK YOU NONNIE I LOVE YOU❤️ here’s a little blurb for ya😘

for some reason, i’m picturing whiny/crybaby!reader in this scenario…

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the softness of your sobs has chris’ neck hot from your heavy breathing. he’s nonchalantly watching TV, pretending that you’re not there as you grind over his pajama pants. your shirt rises above your boobs, chest pressed up against his with your head in the crook of his neck. “i’m sorry.” you sniffle, your red, puffy, and bare folds starting to hurt from the fabric. “i’m sorry i was bad today. please fuck me. please!”

you beg with no intention of stopping, but chris doesn’t give in to your bullshit. you don’t deserve his attention period; you’re lucky enough he’s letting you get off on his thigh. you were a brat today, but you know better than that.

alas, he continues ignoring your pleas. a wet spot is visible where your poor pussy lies with need and desire. when a broken moan is about to leave your throat, but a strong pair of hands places you next to him on the couch. tears stream down your face, the orgasm you were building up gone in a snap. “no! please—”

“matt’s calling.” he says, lifting his phone into view. “i have to take this.”

“you’re— you’re a meanie! i hate you!” you cry, throwing a pillow at his back when he starts to walk out of the room. he stops in his tracks, giving you a glare that has your eyes widen with regret before he answers the call.

little do you know, you’d get punished later that night until the early morning.

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

💖 APHRODITE: Goddess of Love and Beauty 🕊

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you arrive at camp, you’re already got eyes following you. There’s something about you that draws people’s eyes to you. It could be your face, your hair, your eyes, your hands when they move, how you walk, how you move. So when you get claimed by Aphrodite, your fanfare is totally expected by others and unexpected when you get a magical makeover by your godly mother’s blessing. You’re dressed to the nines, your look done up perfectly like you're a movie star walking on the red carpet. People stare at you with awe and you can feel it.

The moment you are shown the Cabin, all you can think of is “Oh god it’s a god dang barbie mansion”; this may either fulfill your deepest childhood dream or your worst nightmare.

There’s gossip everywhere in the cabin. You’re hearing about people’s love lives, social interactions, and everything about the people in camp. Even if you’re not as romantically inclined yourself, you’re practically spoiled for choice for hearing about drama. There may be no TV or shows for you to watch, but this is the next best thing. It’s like the Kardashians, House Wives, and Golden Girls all the same.  

Shipping. So much shipping. Shipping between campers in your cabin and outside the cabin. Shipping between movie stars to literal characters. Heck, even self-shipping is encouraged! It’s a shipper's galore. 

The Aphrodite cabin likes to have fashion runs. A lot of the Aphrodite demigods become models and do a catwalk. But if you’re not that interested in being a model, there are still ways to participate. 

If you like to design and make your own clothes, the Aphrodite cabin has your back. You have access to all types of fabrics, patterns, and materials you could need. You have no shortage of models for you to work with. If you’re interested in doing make-up, cosmetic or movie makeup,  you have plenty of people to practise on. Even if children of Aphrodite have the ability to have permanent makeup and whatnot, it doesn’t mean you still can’t use your skills to be on fleek. 

You know the meme where you see a woman putting eyeliner with the sword to make sure it's sharp? You see that way too often.

You're swiftly proven that functionality being sacrificed for fashion is a myth. It can be done and it has been done, but it's just some outweigh functionality with AESTHETICS

Stans. Stans everywhere. People don’t usually see the Aphrodite kids fight and break character unless it comes to their stan. If you haven’t seen them fight before, you do now. You’re still reeling from the BTS stans.

K-dramas. K-pop. Enough said. 

You look at yourself as best as you could, it was both familiar yet foreign.  It was like looking at the mirror, seeing yourself and all the positives of your body. Even if you had a negative view of yourself, it was gone and changed.  

A girl stepped up, her black hair swaying, and you looked at her in awe as she smiled at you. “Hi! My name is Silena Beauregard, welcome to Cabin 10!” 

“Oh hi” you said lamely, but before you could say anything further, you saw a large amount of pink in your vision. “Oh my god” you couldn’t help uttering as soon as your eyes laid on the Aphrodite cabin. It was pink in glory, and all you can think was that it was a true to god barbie house. 

“Ah yeah,” said Selina, “Welcome to the Barbie house.”

“Wait it’s really called that?” 

“Well, we really shouldn’t be calling it a Barbie house, but ... .I do admit it is pretty much a barbie house” Selina whispered in the last part. 

You couldn’t help snicker and Selina gave you a knowing smile and wink, before she led you to the door.

“You ready?” she asked. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be” you replied after taking a deep breath. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here for every step of the way” she reassured and you smiled back. As soon the door opened, there was a waft of perfume. It wasn’t particularly strong or particularly bad, in fact it made you happy, but you could smell it anyways. There was a twinge of emotion that stirred up in you; it reminded you of smelling a perfume that reminded you of home and love…for some reason, you had a flash of a woman holding you to her chest and you burying your nose into her, your eyes closing with warmth.

“Hey everyone, let me introduce you to our new half-sibling!” introduced Selina, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. You raised your hand and waved, introducing yourself. That was all it took before the flood work came. Immediately, all the inhabitants in the cabin begun to interview you from where you were from, your favourite colour, your favourite colour, band, and etc-

Your head was absolutely swimming but as you all talked to each other, sharing your likes and dislikes, you had a feeling you were going to be alright.

[whoxeology]

HI HII hope ur having an amazing day!! But I can I request Percy x reader (gn if possible plz:3) where Percy n reader get caught by Sally (after they rescue her😞) cuddling n kissing BUT Sally didn't know they were in a relationship (maybe they were just couldn't tell her since they didn't know when or couldn't since they just rescued her??). ITS OK IF U CANT/DONT WANT TO!! plz take care of urself n remember to drink water ^.^tysm!!

A/N: PLEASE YOU ARE LITERALLY SO SWEET. THIS IS SO EXCITING I LOVE GETTING REQUESTS. This is my first actual blurb so please let me know what y'all think.

⛧☾༺♰Red Handed♰༻☽⛧

PAIRING: Percy Jackson x Reader

WARNINGS: Established Relationship, cursing, GN Reader, Possible spoilers for TLT, Kissing, OOC Percy.

W.C: 0.8K

A/N: I have not read the books only knowledge I have of Percy is from the movies, TV show, and multiple fics I have read. While writing this I have Logan Lerman Percy Jackson in mind. With that being said this is purely for fun. You are more than welcome to disagree and leave feedback.

It had been a hell of a past few hours. In less than 24 hours you, Percy, Grover, and Annabeth had managed to go to the underworld and save Sally, briefly fought Luke before Percy ultimately beat his ass, returned the lightning bolt to Zeus, and got Grover back from the underworld. 

"My god my back is killing me" You groaned as you stretched yourself out on Percy's bed. You had gotten out of a much-needed shower, the scalding hot water seeming to work miracles on your bruised skin. You smelled faintly of Vanilla and were wearing an old AC/DC tee shirt and shorts that Percy had lent you. 

Saying you were exhausted was an understatement. You missed your friends, your cabin mates, and most importantly sleep. Considering you’d been barely managing to catch 40 minutes of sleep in the past few days you’d take anything. 

"I wonder why's that," Percy said sarcastically as he slid himself up behind you. He placed his head into the crook of your neck inhaling your scent. "God you smell good," He said as his hands found their way under your shirt and onto your waist. His cold hands meet your hot skin making you shiver. 

Percy missed his mom more than shown. You wouldn’t blame him, you know if you got your mom back you’d be feeling the same as him, if not worse. Annabeth and Grover had gone back to camp while you and Percy decided to stay with his mom for the night. You would have gone back to camp with Grover and Annabeth but Percy insisted on you staying with him. 

"Can't say the same for you," You say jokingly. Percy's cold hands were poking around your waist with intent making you giggle and squirm when he poked a sensitive spot below your ribs. 

"Hey I showered," he said defensively as his poking turned into tickling. His fingers were relentless "Take it back." He said into your neck as you laughed loudly trying to get away. 

"Percy!" You whisper shouted trying to pry his hands away from your waist. You didn't want Sally to hear and get the wrong impression about you. 

"Take it back love or else I won't stop," He whispered into your ear as he pinned your wrist down with one hand. His other becoming harsher tickling your sides as if there was no tomorrow. 

"OKAY, OKAY FINE I"M SORRY, YOU SMELL AMAZING," You practically shouted as you grasped at his hands. If he kept it up you’d probably piss your pants. Finally, after what seemed like years he stopped tickling you resting his hands back on your waist. He shoved his head back into your neck.

"Percy," you said in a warning tone. He had started to kiss right below your ear. 

"Hmm?," He hummed back. The vibration tickles against your neck right below your jaw. His hands around your waist tightened, pulling your back further onto him. 

“Percy,” you whine breathlessly. Your hands reach behind you to tug on his hair. He was being an ass, placing slow kisses on the collar of your neck.  

“Who smells amaz- OH MY GOD," 

The sound of Percy's door opening was all you heard before you were on the ground. Your ass hurts from the sudden impact. 

"Oh my god sweetie are you okay," Sally said rushing to your side. Her hands grabbed yours as she pulled you off the ground. 

"Oh my god babe I'm sorry I panicked," Percy said as he grabbed your waist and pulled you back onto the bed. 

"Im fine it's okay really," You laughed as you sat on the bed leaning against Percy finding the whole situation funny. Percy was sitting on his bed awkwardly with one hand around your waist and the other rubbing the back of his neck, his face bright red while Sally's eyes were looking at him expecting answers. 

"Babe? When did this happen," Sally questioned as she leaned against the wall. She didn't look upset but rather amused. "Since a little after I got to camp," Percy said looking at his mom. He stopped rubbing his neck and instead started playing with your fingers instead. 

“Okay cool, look I get it, I understand you’re young I was young one too and I will admit I had my fair share of fun -” She was cut off by a loud groan from Percy. He threw himself back into his bed. His black hair hit his light blue pillow. 

“Oh my god, Mom please stop” He mumbled his entire face red again. You can hear the embarrassment in his voice. 

“Okay okay I’ll leave,” she said as she put her hands up with a cheeky smile on her face. “This door stays open though,” she said as she pointed at Percy, suddenly serious. 

“MOMMMMM.”

A/N: How do yall feel about the color-coded diolauge? would yall prefer it like this or as regular text?

[appleblueberry-pie]

A little Miguel O'Hara blurb that I wrote in 20 min.

Your eyes stay glued to the TV screen on the wall. You lay flat on your bed, pillow in hand and your head turned to the left to capture what was happening on the TV screen. Some random action movie. You fiddle with the pillow, eyes wide.

Soft lips kiss at your inner thigh. Too close to the center, yet so far. The warmth increases the closer those soft lips reach. They kiss softly at the top of your mound. Then they leave a long kiss at your clit. Your eyebrows furrow, trying to pay attention to the TV screen.

You inhale and exhale, trying to relax. The lips kiss down, down until they reach your entrance before the warm and wet muscle reaches out and licks firmly from the entrance all the way back up to the clit. Your legs hesitate to stay open, but big hands keep them open. You feel large shoulders press on the back of both of your thighs, and arms circling your thighs to keep them in place, hands as still anchors so that they don't move.

This new position makes your breath quicker, but you try to hide it. You try to focus on the car speeding down the highway on the TV screen. You can't hear it, though. The loud slurping from between your legs is too distracting. You cover your face with your pillow as their hot breaths continue to spread onto your lips, firm tongue sucking and flicking at your clit.

You can't help but whimper, and a groan is heard from the man eating you out. The hands on your thighs tighten, and you shift in place, becoming restless. The person shifts, too, to keep you in their solid hold. Their mouth never stopped its assault on your clit. Another whine pours out of your mouth as your clit is sucked on even harder.

You tear your eyes away from the screen, making eye contact with red-brown eyes. A solid and powerful stare right on your face. Miguel looks determined, sexy, and....hungry. He stops sucking.

"Don't look at me. Look back at the screen, Nena. That's the second time I told you to listen, hm?"

You immediately bring your eyes back to the screen, biting your lip. He begins eating you out again, sucking and licking more harshly. His tongue sometimes teases around the clit, and other times, he tries to lick inside your hole, his nose pressing on your clit instead.

Your small moans suddenly get louder as Miguel continues to taste you. One of his hands spreads your legs further apart when you tense up and you squeeze your eyes closed. Miguel begins slurping loudly as your squirt onto his face. You muffle your moans into your pillow, the action movie entirely forgotten. Miguel sighs in relief as he finishes eating you out. He drinks up all that he can before pressing a few more kisses to your inner thighs. His arms relax, and you move your aching legs.

Miguel sits up, towering over your laid-out body. His eyes stay on your glistening hole, his raging boner twitching in his briefs. He sighs, finally pulling the briefs down by the bands.

That's it.😊

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Anyone’s little toy - Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Warnings: A tiny bit of degradation, nothing too bad, fem!receiving oral. That’s it really (?)

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Billy finds out readers lack of sexual experience.

Notes: This was originally for Jason Todd but maybe it fits Billy more? Idk shut up. Not proofread, I just needed to get this off my mind 😵‍💫 send ideas, specifically Jason Todd and Steve Roger’s in particular.

You don’t remember how the topic was brought up, all you knew was that you were sitting on Billy’s couch, your back pressed against the cushion as he interrogated you.

There had been an awful amount of sexual tension between you two. Neither of you admitted anything to the other. You were too intimidated to bring anything up to him. You were happy with coming by to hang out with him when he called, talking about his day, your day, ordering food, playing games or watching TV. Sometimes when boredom hit, you even made out, but that was always as far as it went and it wasn’t always.

You couldn’t help but fantasize about it going further, about how he would feel, what he would look like. The closest you got was sitting on his lip with his hands having an ungodly grip on your hips. His kissing always kept you from this world, you forgot everything when Billy Loomis’s spit was in your mouth.

“What is it? Have you ever been touched?” Billy asked in a bitter tone. You were both grown, grown enough to have your own experiences, god knows he had his share. You never confused in him your lack of experience.

“Um” your cheeks flushed red, adamantly avoiding his eyes, they were practically prying into you. The spotlight was on you this whole time, yet it felt like you were on a disgusting display before him.

“Yeah of course I have” you lied. Your eyes still staring at the wall behind him, a frown present on your face in hopes of disguising your truth.

It was nothing to be embarrassed about, but you were ashamed to have a pathetically stupid amount of experience in the sexual aspect of your life.

Billy stared you down like if he was about to devour you, his frown activated across his face, head tilting to the side as he tried to match his eyes with you. “I don’t know, you’re such a sweet baby. I don’t think you’ve ever been anyone’s little toy.. am I right? I could be underestimating you.”

He almost spat out the questions, there was a tinge of jealousy, again, even if you were grown he still had a piece of hope that he could be the only one to see you sprawled out and chanting his name like if he’d show you a small gesture of mercy.

His breath felt hot against your cheek, his tongue peaked out to press against your skin. Your breathing fastened, your legs clenched together in hopes of getting some feeling of relief.

He was eating this up, overly proud of the position he had you in. “Sweet little princess, why aren’t you looking at me? Are you hiding something?” He teased, what an ass. You tucked your bottom lip into your mouth, your eyes refusing to look at his directly as if you could pull one over on him.

Your skirt folded into itself as you kept yourself from getting too close to him, he never went this far and you never went this far, with anyone actually. The embarrassment alone was going to set you off in tears, this was humiliating in the sweetest way.

“N-no im not hiding anything.” You spoke up, barely.

Your squirming was a delicacy to the mercenary. His eyes were prying into your movements, watching you get uneasy. He wanted to tear you apart right then and there. He was only ashamed it took him this long, but there was a long thought process behind his actions.

“I don’t know Y/N. Somethin’s telling me you’re lying to me.” He sung, his head shaking sideways ever so slightly.

It was then his head dipped down to the side of your head, pressing a wet kiss on your cheek, slowly pulling away to watch your reaction. You were as pressed back as you could be in hopes of hiding without actually hiding. You had to check yourself to see if you were still breathing, what the hell was so shameful about this?

“Billy.” You breathed out, his face in front of yours, he slowly knelt down, hands reaching out to your thighs. He would never admit it now, but he could practically smell your arousal. Billy’s hands gripped onto you gently, the outline of his body completely covered you. He was intimidating as much as he was mouth watering.

“Mmm?” He whispered as his hands soothed your thighs gently, his eyes finally dropped down to your figure. Your panties peaked out to him, causing his eyes to focus on your lower part instead. Billy’s thumbs maneuvered to the ends of your skirt, flipping the seam to push back closer to your hips, exposing more of your body to him. He did it so slow, enough to where you could stop him if you needed to, but you didn’t want to.

You were nervous, shy, but you wanted to feel his tough more than anything.

“N-nothing. I just haven’t-“ you frowned again this time dropping your legs onto the couch slowly, sitting up in unison as your eyes finally turned to him. “I’ve never, you know. Really been with anyone. I trust you, I just-“ and there it came, the realization of what you just admitted.

Billy looked up at you, instead of pulling back, his eyes seemed to almost turn a shade darker, turning from your face, back down to your figure. “You’ve never been touched?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your response, still unclear with what you were trying to tell him.

“No, I mean I have I just. I’ve never gone all the way, I don’t know what to do.” You admitted without thinking, you absentmindedly pulled away from him and shifted yourself closer to the couch.

“Do you want to do anything with me?” His voice cracked the small silence between you both. You felt the redness approaching your face again, you only answered with a wordless nod. In return, the devious smile made its way back to his drying lips.

“Just tell me if it’s too far” he warned you as his head dipped down again into your thighs, he warmed you back up with wet kisses across your sensitive skin, nipping and sucking at he warm pieces. Your legs responded in shifts, his hands then trailed again to your soft legs, moving them over his shoulder as he pushed his head further up to your core.

There was a change in his ache for you, again, maybe he won’t admit it now but the thought of making you feel good, to be the only one to taste you and leave you scratching at his back when you can’t take it anymore, all the sinful ideas plagued his mind. The fantasy of it all awoke something primal in him, the more the idea saturated his mind, the more desperate he got.

His hands ran up to your hips, pulling you as close as he could to his face, his arms hooked around the bottom for your thighs to hold you in place, his fingers pushed your underwear aside, enough to give him some space to work, he flattened his tongue against your slick folds, causing your head to fall back at the intrusion.

You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. Billy restricted your legs as his mouth opened and sucked into your clit. A gasp escaped your lips at the obscenity of his movements, you never felt anything like it, your legs rubbed against the sides of his head as his mouth moved more desperately by the second.

“Billy-” you whimpered out as his tongue swirled around your opening, your pink cotton panties were in the way of the whole experience but he was too mesmerized by your taste to get away from your pussy for even a second. Your thighs clenched every time he hit a sweet spot, he was careful not to overstimulate you too fast, he was going to try to get you as wet as possible before he fucked you.

His tongue flattened then pierced your hole, feeling the tip of his tongue pushed out by your body, taking turns exploring your folds.

Your head fell back again, feeling nothing but the warm wet spit invade your sensitive slick. Between laps along your cunt he’d pull back to mumble sweet obscenities, the hoods of his eyes dripping down in sweet bliss as he tasted your juices. “Good girl, you’re doing so good.” He praised as he felt your legs squeeze his head again when the pressure was too strong.

You didn’t know what feeling you were chasing, all you knew was that it felt like you could stay here all day, little parts his tongue would swipe made you jolt, you could almost fall asleep in ecstasy.

It wasn’t long until Billy noticed your comfortability, causing him to start lapping at your clit, his left hand pulled apart your folds while the other pulled your underwear aside. Your body sure felt the pressure now, you twisted your lower half without thinking to get away from his tongue.

Billy’s fingers let go of your panties and his index finger made circles against your clit, causing your body to flinch and little moans to escape your salivating mouth. His finger then prodded into you slowly before then just shoving itself as far as he could. His eyes wouldn’t let you go as you squirmed and mumbled out incoherent moans.

“You look so cute when you have something in you.” He muttered, watching you flinch and curl your body forward as he added another finger. You whimpered as he kept the pace, his eyes half closed with lust as you panted at his impatience to use you up.

His fingers moved in a scissoring motion, causing you to squirm again, this time moaning a little louder. “Maybe I do believe you haven’t been played with. I haven’t even started and I know you’re going to cream all over my fingers soon” he hissed.

You pouted, your lustful eyes gleaming down to him, you would have something smart to say if Billy wasn’t rubbing his hands all over your cunt, talking to you like you were a stupid girl chasing a high. His fingers rammed in and out of you in a steady pace, his palm ever so slightly pushing against your clit with every thrusting motion. You felt your body involuntarily clench.

Billy slowly stood to his feet, his hands never stopping or halting in the process. He needed to see you cum more than anything right now, more than you needed to feel it.

“God if you could see yourself right now. You look so pretty.” He whined out as he looked down to you, you looked back at him, with a more prominent frown and an ache in your core. Your hips began to shift as he kept his pace, his left hand made its way up to swipe his thumb across your bottom lip.

“So fucking pretty. Maybe next time I’ll bust a load on your face play with your pretty little cunt and get a picture. What do you say?”

You were wordless, before you could even get the chance to answer he curled his fingers, finding your gspot took him a little longer but when he felt your pussy clench around him he kept prying. You closed your eyes in despair to keep your climax going, bucking your hips as he kept fucking you with his fingers. “Good fucking princess. You look so fucking pretty, fuck.” He moaned, desperate to toss you around, fill you to the brim, he knew better than to go crazy with you so fast, but it wasn’t like he had enough self control to take it slow.

Your body jolted involuntarily, your eyes squeezed shut as you cried out in pleasure. All those sweet noises for him to hear alone were enough to send him over the edge. This was going to be a long night.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Going Public || CL16

Another little blurb that was sitting in my drafts... F1 Masterlist

“We heard your girlfriend is a driver for Ferrari too, can we expect a friendly race anytime soon?”

Charles smiled towards the Ferrari crew that was watching the interview from the side of the stage, knowing you were somewhere among them. “Oh no, she’s way too competitive, and unless it’s in a F1 car she will 100% beat me.”

The interviewer laughed along with the crowd. “Surely not?”

“She’s absolutely fearless!” he said seriously as he sat up straighter. “And she’s not even a racer.”

The woman frowned as she looked at her cue card. “I thought she was a driver?”

You saw the pride on Charles' face when he grinned at Carlos sitting next to him, who was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. 

“She is, but she doesn’t race.” The interviewer was growing more confused and you could see the fans taking all the information in to try and figure out your identity after nearly a year of dating under the radar.

“She drives the transporter rig,” Carlos clarified with a laugh. “Which is perfect because Charles can’t parallel park to save his life, so he gets his girlfriend to do it for him. She is very good at it.”

The People’s Prince of Monaco is dating a Trucker???

The F1 Gossip pages were going crazy after the interview and you sat scrolling through them with an amused chuckle. 

“Babe, have you seen this one?” you asked as you showed him the latest meme. Some clever person had taken a picture of an overweight middle-aged man in a red plaid shirt over a dirty wife-beater, slapped a Ferrari badge on his truck and trailer and a long blonde wig on his head. The caption: Leclerc’s new girl. “I wish I could pull off that shirt.”

Two weeks later.

The camera crew were waiting out on the track and you caught Charles’ eyes in the mirror as you fixed your hair. 

“Ready, mi amor?” 

“How do I look?” you asked as you gave him a spin to show off your outfit. 

“Gorgeous as always,” he said with a wink. “And a little bit scary if I'm honest.”

You straightened up the collar of the red plaid shirt and brushed your fingers along his jaw. “Is it the wife beater or the wig?”

“Maybe the big dick energy?”

“Gotta play the part, baby,” you teased as you swaggered over to the door with exaggerated steps. “This is what your fans are expecting of me.”

Marketing and Promo were having a field day. They had scoured the internet for ideas to make this video after Charles had given them the heads up that you were going to take your relationship public. You were both more than happy to make it a unique announcement since a sense of humour was something that you both shared.

The final cut was a work of art, and you had watched it at least three times over as your stomach ached from all the laughter. There had been parking challenges, slalom races through cone tracks, and even hot laps around the circuit in Imola. It had been an absolute thrill to shoot, especially with the ridiculous costume, but you were glad to be back in your own clothes.

“Well at least you didn’t lie in that interview,” you pointed out after seeing the final score for the challenges. “You won the F1 race.”

Charles draped a lazy arm over your shoulders and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, “Would you believe if I said I practised reversing and parallel parking with Pierre all week?”

You paused the replay on the tv and shifted onto his lap, cradling his face in your palms. “Oh, my love, Pierre can’t park any better,” you said before your lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “You should have asked Kika.”

[mikkomacko]

could we get a blurb where one of the boys are sick and reader takes care of them? then maybe mob boss nico comes home to reader babying the sick boy and is so endeared by the interaction that he envisions what it would be like to raise a family with reader.

“Jack is sick today,” is all Luke said when he texted Nico this morning. The younger Hughes brother showed up for his shift of restocking the bar supply room for the day and then left for his turn patrolling the streets.

Nico assumed it meant Jack was at home, probably just sleeping and ordering soup and crackers to the loft. Maybe he’d see him in the morning.

But when he decided to call the day early and strolled into his house, he was stopped by the sight of an extra body lying on his couch.

“Easy day?” Timo asks him, emerging from the kitchen with a banana in hand. Nico looks at him, then back at the living room.

“Tired, wanted to come home.” He explains, nodding in confusion to the only thing visible: the pair of feet hanging over the arm rest. “Who’s that?”

He snorts. “Who do ya think?”

Moving closer into the living room, your figure comes into view. Perched on the edge of the couch, you’re looking down at whoever is lying before you with warm and comforting eyes, eyebrows pulled in concern.

Nico isn’t surprised when he gets to the edge of the couch and finds Jack wrapped in a thick blanket, hair sprawled out on the memory foam pillow from one of the guest rooms.

“Hey Schoa,” You’re stroking through Jack’s hair, fingers tender and slow as you greet him. “You’re home early.”

He hums, looking around at the tissue box and vapo-rub on the the coffee table, the red Gatorade on the floor where Jack can reach it, a humidifier bubbling in the corner, and Happy Gilmore on the tv.

“Playing doctor?” He teases, only half joking. You look up at him, fingers pausing and that concerned look you wore earlier softens.

“Pretty good at it, don’t ya think?”

Nico laughs quietly, but agrees. Smiling proudly, you peer back down at Jack, smoothing your thumb over the dark bags under his sleeping eyes and then placing the back of your hand to his forehead.

“How’s he doing?” Nico asks when you frown in disappointment.

You shrug. “Ok, he’s got a fever still but at least he’s not throwing up and crying anymore.”

Nico makes a face. “How’d that work out for you?”

You glance at him, an unamused look on your face as you do so. “Had to get over my fear of vomit eventually right?”

Accepting the answer, Nico watches you for a moment. The gentle way you touch Jack’s face and move his hair, how sweet your gaze is as you examine the sleeping boy as if looking for anything physically wrong with him.

Motherly, he realizes. You look so motherly and protective watching over him like that, and it makes something in Nico’s heart throb.

You had told him you don’t know if you’ll ever want kids, that it’s something you haven’t put a lot of thought into. And he’s fine with that because he hasn’t either.

But if you ever decide it’s something you want, Nico will give it to you a hundred times over. And those kids will be the luckiest little ones in the world to have a mother like you.

“Hey,” he says softly, and you look over at him. “C’mere.” You take the hand he holds out to you, moving around the edge of the couch and into his arms.

Nico lowers his head, capturing your lips in a sweet and soft kiss. Your hands find the back of his neck, holding him gently.

“What was that for?” You whisper when he pecks kisses to your cheeks and nose.

“I don’t need a reason to kiss you.” Nico replies, not knowing how to explain to you that he thinks you look so good in the role of a mother. The last thing he wants is to freak you out.

“No you don’t,” you giggle, playing with his hair.

Pleased, he nips playfully at your lips again.

“Come take a shower with me?”

You purse your lips like you’re thinking about it, outweighing the pros and cons, and he rolls his eyes in annoyance. Tugging on his hair, you grin.

“Let me wake Jack up for another dose of medicine and I’ll meet you up there, ok?”

Nico wants to complain, wants to whine that Timo can do it and just come up with him now please but he doesn’t. You seem to enjoy fawning over Jack, to be taking care of him and he knows the kid can use some of that.

He’s a far way from his own mother and from what Luke has told everyone, Jack is one hell of a mama’s boy.

So he agrees instead, letting you go so you can crouch back down by the couch and he heads for the stairs.

“Jack,” he hears you coo, and he pauses on the bottom step to listen to you. “Need you to get up for a sec, darling.”

That part in his heart throbs again, sending butterflies throughout his stomach and warmth to his cheeks. Continuing up the stairs, Nico tries to imagine what sweet pet names you’d use for your own babies on day.