#this does not feel natural to me?? and it looks worse sitting next to the wuhwuhditz ‘george washington was america’s first gay president.’

[genreawareness]

“the three of us have a very important job.” “>:) to find out which us presidents were secretly gay” “No.” “ok fine, bi”

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do poly!marauders with a clumsy s/o? Thank you!

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: blood

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“I’m going to purchase one of those leashes for unruly toddlers,” James says, thick lashes nearly touching as he squints down at your hand. “And I’m going to keep it around my wrist at all times.” 

“It won’t be as good at catching me as you are,” you point out. You do your best not to wince as he picks a piece of gravel out of your palm, but his eyes flick up to you anyway, an apology in them. 

“No, but at least I’ll be able to keep you close.” 

You laugh a little. “I trip whether you’re nearby or not.” 

“Beg to differ.” He sounds bitter, but James has always had a terrible poker face and the uptilt of his lips betrays him. He spreads ointment over the cuts on your hand before bandaging it. “If I was with you, this would’ve never happened. Guaranteed.” 

“Yes, it’s all your fault.” Remus comes in from the kitchen, maneuvering carefully so as not to get the hot mug he’s carrying anywhere near James. He sets it next to your thigh on the bathroom counter. “Jamie,” his tone is chiding, a bit tired, “why have you started with her hands? She’s bleeding down to her ankles.” 

“It’s nearly dried anyway,” you say, looking down at your shredded knees. Remus feels too bad for you to give you one of his worse reprimanding looks, but his eyes convey tremendous exasperation nonetheless. 

“Because I knew she’d need her hands to hold her tea,” James replies, bumping Remus’ hip lightly with his. “Ease up, I’ve got it. Did you make yourself some tea too?” 

Remus glances towards the kitchen the way an old captain might gaze at the sea. “I thought about it…” 

“Do that,” James says. He finishes up with your other hand, bandaging it carefully. “Actually, would you mind just putting a kettle on? I’ll have a cup, and Sirius might want one too.” 

You frown at that, but neither of your boyfriends see, Remus going into the kitchen with renewed purpose and James smiling slightly to himself as he finishes wrapping your hand. 

“One of these days,” he whispers, backing up a bit so he can work on your knees, “you’re going to have to sit on the couch and feed Remus chocolates for all you put his heart through. We’ll be lucky if the next time you fall he doesn’t have an attack.” 

“What’s Sirius coming here for?” you ask. 

“Well, he does live here.” 

You give him a look, but he doesn’t glance up from cleaning the blood off your shin. “He’s supposed to be shopping with Marlene.” Accusation and betrayal lines your words. “You texted him?” 

James looks up at you now, sympathetic if not quite sorry. “You know I had to. He would’ve murdered me if he’d come home and seen you all bandaged up and nobody had told him.” 

“You could take him,” you grumble. 

He laughs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. He fights dirty.” 

You laugh too, though it’s more a humorous huff. “He can’t come home every time I trip,” you say, twisting the string of your tea bag around your index finger. “It’s not like I need to go to the hospital.” 

James works a larger piece of gravel out of your knee, eyebrows knit together by compassion. “He worries,” he says simply. “He wants to come home every time you hurt yourself, though if you recall, I didn’t tell anyone about you banging your head on the microwave door yesterday, or about when you fell on the stairs last week.” He looks up, grinning when you shrink, abashed. “But when you fall this bad, it’s a bit harder to hide. Sorry, lovie.” 

It’s a double apology, for ratting you out and for the sting of the ointment he smears over your knee. You hiss through your teeth. “Fair enough,” you say. James smooths a large band-aid over the series of shallow cuts, kissing the skin just above it for good measure. “I just don’t like to worry him. Any of you, if I can help it.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t think you can,” he says. You get what he means. Remus is a worrier, Sirius even more so, protective by nature and nurture. And each of your boyfriends cares about you too much to ignore how often you hurt yourself, even if you really think they should be desensitized to it and annoyed with you by now. “But I’m trying to get you cleaned up before he sees you, so hopefully that’ll help.” 

Like James has just issued a summons, the rumble of Sirius’ bike comes from outside. James grimaces as it slows to a stop. 

“I hate that fucking thing,” Remus growls from the kitchen. 

James shoots a sad smile in that direction. You think that you might not single-handedly cause Remus’ heart attack if Sirius gets there first. 

“Where is she?” Sirius calls as soon as he comes in the door. “I assume there’s a blood trail for me to follow?” 

James chuckles. “I told you it wasn’t that grim,” he shouts down the hall, and a second later there are heavy footsteps coming toward you. You brace yourself. 

“Fucking hell.” He halts just in the threshold of the bathroom, then seems to change his mind, striding over to you. His eyes are glued to the bloody mess of your uncovered knee. “Darling, what did you do?” 

You knew what to expect from him, and still your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “I missed the curb going out to get the mail,” you say. 

Sirius’ eyes lift to yours, widening. “You fell into the road?” You nod. “You could’ve been hit by a car!”

“There weren’t any cars.” There are almost never any cars on your street, and he knows that. 

“You’re lucky there weren’t,” he says anyway, holding his hand out. You place one of yours in it obediently, palm up. There’s a bit of blood marring the beige bandage, and Sirius makes a terribly soft pitying sound. “Your poor, lovely hands.” He runs a careful finger over the covering. “How bad was it?” he asks James.

“I told you, not horrific,” James says, finishing with getting the debris out of your knee and twisting the cap off the ointment. He looks up to be sure you’re ready before he starts smoothing it on.

“Stitches?” 

“Oh, tons. She’s held together more by thread than skin at this point.” 

You roll your eyes, but Sirius coos, “My poor sweetheart,” and grabs hold of your face to plant a kiss on your lips. You must look as pleasantly surprised as you feel, because he does it again, bending forward to avoid bumping his hip into your knee. 

His thumb sweeps across your cheek as he pulls away, brows furrowed. “Does it hurt?” he asks, and now the mirth has disappeared from his tone. You don’t know how Sirius does that, going from teasing to not in a blink. 

“Not so badly,” you tell him. 

He hums, stroking your face again. “Would you tell me if it did?” 

You feel your lips twitch, and Sirius’ eyes narrow like he knows your answer before you’ve spoken. “Probably not,” you admit, “but it really doesn’t.” 

He stares you down for a minute, murky eyes scanning yours for traces of untruth, his dark brows lowered. You reach up to slot a piece of hair behind his ear, and he cracks, mouth kicking up at the corner. 

“Alright, drink your tea before it gets cold.” 

“I’ve actually made tea for everyone,” Remus calls, not from the kitchen this time but from the living room. “And snacks, so please come eat them.” 

James grins, touch moving up the back of your knee to your thigh as he stands. “Excellent,” he says eagerly. “You’re all fixed up, m’love. Let’s go take care of Rem now.” 

You start to hop down from the counter, but Sirius says, “Wait, wait!” and grabs you by the hips, keeping you in place. “Can you walk?” 

You nod, because duh, your legs are scraped, not broken, but Sirius looks to James, the both of them frowning thoughtfully. 

“Best not to risk reopening them,” James decides, scooping you up off the counter. 

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Thank you,” you say, rather than this is deeply unnecessary and you’re being ridiculous. James seems to hear both anyway, planting a sloppy, smiley kiss on your cheek. Sirius, satisfied, follows you down the hall. “I didn’t mean to make you my manservant, I swear.” 

“Happy to do it,” he says. “Now drink your tea, it’ll make Rem feel better.”

[kumawaii]

THE LICKBACK | XMH

cw - cheating, toxic behavior, sending post-sex nudes, riding, unprotected sex, creampie

– for my 🍰 anon

∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘

bestie!minghao is the most beautiful person you’ve ever met, both inside and out. he’s so attentive and thoughtful. any time you’re around him you feel that you’re slowly being swept off your feet. his natural charisma and charm are so alluring that you can’t believe anyone could hate him. you can’t believe that your boyfriend does. like a lot.

you’re not sure when this animosity between your two favorite boys manifested, but it’s there and it’s not going away any time soon. bestie!minghao tries to act like he’s above it all, but you know him. there’s no way he can turn the other cheek when your boyfriend is so open about hating him.

the feud isn’t aggressive or blatant — at least not around you. there’s a lot of subtle digs and glares exchanged when you’re not looking, but from what your other friends tells you it’s a lot worse when you’re not there. you’re not even really sure why they don’t like each other. any time you ask either of them, they brush it off or change the subject entirely.

it’s futile, but you try to get them to like each other. forcing them to hang out doesn’t work at all. the two barely even acknowledge each other and somehow become even more distant. your boyfriend isn’t outright rude, but he does act like bestie!minghao doesn’t exist whenever you bring him around. this tiresome routine goes on until you finally get sick and tired of it. when you confront your boyfriend about it, you don’t expect him to snap at you.

“who gives a fuck if i don’t like your little friend?” his tone is mean and aggressive.

you blink slowly, trying not to get emotional at the tone he’s using with you. “i just want you guys to get along…”

your boyfriend lets out a frustrated noise. he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and running a tense hand through his hair. his gaze become accusatory in a way, and you can’t explain why you suddenly feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“we’re not going to. as long as he wants to fuck you, i can’t be friends with him.”

you’re left speechless. never once had you considered that your best friend would think of you that way. years of platonic friendship has never led you to believe otherwise. apparently, your boyfriend doesn’t like your silence because in the next second he scoffs before he storms out of your apartment.

that night you keep replaying his harsh words until you can’t take it anymore. you rashly go over to bestie!minghao’s house to talk to him about what your boyfriend had said. like always, your friend is happy to see you in spite of you not letting him know you were coming over. he welcomes you into his home with a pretty smile that makes your heart jump.

“i have to ask you something.” you say as you follow minghao to his room. “and i need you to tell me the truth.”

“you know i never lie to you.” he says sincerely as he pulls you down on his bed so you can sit beside him.

those words make an unexpected heat pool in your stomach. they heat up your entire body as you shift nervously. “is it true you want to… have sex with me?”

bestie!minghao’s eyes widen. he clears his throat. “why would you think that?”

“i was with—”

“your boyfriend.” minghao cuts you off through clenched teeth, realizing that jealous asshole is the one who caused this. “he told you that?”

“he said it’s why he doesn’t like you.” you sound deflated.

you can see the clench of his jaw and his gaze sharpen. he’s angry, but unlike your heathen of a boyfriend, your best friend doesn’t take it out on you. instead he remains silent until he can calmly answer you.

“i can’t believe he reduced my feelings for you to just wanting to have sex.”

you’re not sure what consumes you, but the way your heart is bursting with affection can’t be ignored. it’s how you end up on top of bestie!minghao, bouncing on his big cock. his pretty hands are roaming every inch of your body, caressing your soft skin with tenderness that makes your cunt drip with heaps of arousal. you toss your head back with a loud moan as his dick slams deep into you.

“so fucking pretty.” minghao groans as he grabs your hips and starts to thrust up into you. “my pretty little angel.”

you move your hips desperately, grinding your filthy cunt all over his dick. with your head tossed back, you moan his name desperately. pleasure consumes your entire body as his pulsing tip brushes against your cervix. you’ve never been so close to cumming this quickly, and bestie!minghao’s heated gaze is only pushing you closer to that ecstasy.

“god, you’re perfect.” minghao moans as he sits up to mouth and lick at your bouncing tits. “and now you’re all mine.”

he abruptly flips you on your back, holding your legs open as he starts to pound into you. the way his cock drags against your wet walls is dizzying, and you can feel how he stretches you open with every rough snap of his hips. it only takes him pressing a sweet kiss to your lips for you to fall apart.

seeing you cum is the hottest thing bestie!minghao has ever seen. he fucks you through it, whispering endless praises against your skin. his words are sweet, murmuring about how much he loves you. it’s not long before he cums, too. he does it with a loud groan of your name. minghao fucks it deeper into you until you both can’t take anymore.

“your pussy looks so pretty like this.” minghao sighs as he reaches for his phone. “let me take a picture?”

you nod with a blissful sigh, spreading your legs for him. bestieminghao grins like a cheshire cat. he uses his fingers to spread your soiled lips apart as he angles the camera just right. the picture is perfect and filthy.

your boyfriend can only stare with a clenched jaw when he receives the picture. he recognizes the pretty little hand on the smooth thigh. the ring on the index finger is the one bestie!minghao had gotten you for your birthday. you had always preferred that one to the one he got you.

and as he throws his phone against the wall, he realizes that it wasn’t only the ring you preferred. you’ve always preferred your best friend.

[bruisedboys]

Eddie loves his shy girl so much, he’ll always call her “my girl” or “the wife” “the mrs” around others just to watch how red she gets 🥹🥹 but soon he finds that calling her the wife feels natural and right, he realizes she’s the only girl he ever wants

he totally does omg. bro def calls you his wife with absolutely no shame. thank u for the ask angel!!

summary: eddie calls shy!you a lot of names. all of them make you flustered beyond belief

shy!fem!reader 1k words

Steve’s invited you all to drinks to celebrate him and Robin finally copping a job that isn’t slinging ice cream or sitting behind a video store counter all day. Eddie’s helping you pick out an outfit. It’s taking longer than you’d expected. Something about posing for Eddie makes you so nervous you can barely walk.

“Are you done yet?” Eddie’s voice on the other side of the door is far from impatient, even though it should be by now.

You grumble something incoherent instead of answering. Eddie heard you and laughs.

“Y/N,” he says seriously. The effect is ruined because you can hear his smile in the way he says your name. “We’re gonna be late, baby. Come out and show me the dress. I bet this is the one.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. It is a nice dress. It’s a good length and makes your chest look nice, the colour looks pretty on your skin. Still, you’re embarrassed. You don’t like dressing up. It feels attention-seeking.

You scrub your face with both hands and take a big breath. “Alright, fine.”

You turn away from the mirror before you can stop yourself and yank the bathroom door open. Eddie’s waiting for you on your bed, sitting pretty, if a little slouched. He has bad posture. But his back goes rigid when he sees you — he sits up straight and lets his jaw drop.

“Babe,” he half-whispers, totally in awe, his eyes blown wide. He’s definitely laying it on thick but you can sense the genuineness underneath it all. His eyes traverse a path down your body and back up again, leaving your skin burning. And he hasn’t even touched you yet. “Baby. Honey. Darling. You look amazing.”

You flush all over despite yourself. “Eddie,” you say, chiding.

Eddie pretends to look offended. “What?” He leaps off the bed and gets one hand around your waist, the fabric of your dress shushing under his touch. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re a real stunner, you know that?”

His other hand finds your elbow and pushes all the way up to your bicep, his fingers pressing into your skin. You burn like a furnace where he touches you. You knew this part was coming.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you say, genuine underneath all the shyness.

Eddie looks like he’s about to say something more but you’re saved from his doting by the phone next to your bed ringing loudly. You make to get it but Eddie beats you to it.

“Hello?” He says into the phone, sounding half-annoyed. “Oh. Hi, Steve. Yeah, no, we’re coming. The Mrs is just getting ready.” A pause in which Eddie meets your eye and winks. You flush even worse than you already were. Eddie goes back to talking to Steve. “Uh-huh. Yeah, we’ll be there in ten. Bye, Harrington.”

Eddie puts the phone back and you try to compose yourself. The Mrs, he’d called you. You feel like you could die.

Meanwhile Eddie’s grabbing his jacket from the bedpost and shrugging it on. “He’s badgering us about being late,” he says, pushing his arms through the sleeves. “We better get going, dove.” He looks up at you, half in his jacket. “Do you need me to carry anything for you?”

My heart? You think. Then maybe your chest wouldn’t hurt so much. You shake your head.

“No, um. That’s okay.” You push your hair behind your ears and try not to show how much he’s undone you with his antics. “I’ll just grab my purse.”

Eddie smiles at you. “Okay. I’ll meet you in the car?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Ten minutes later you’ve arrived at the bar and Eddie’s leading you inside with a hand at the small of your back. He smells good, like the cologne you’d bought him forever ago that he wears basically every day.

You step inside the semi-crowded bar and Eddie spots your friend group before you do.

“They’re over there, by the window,” he says, pointing. “C’mon.”

He takes your hand and pulls you in the direction of your friends. You let him guide you and he pleases, his hand a warm weight in yours. You stare at the back of his head until you arrive at the table. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan are all here.

“Munson!” Robin cheers. Your eyes zero in on the drink in her hand and you think she’s maybe already a bit tipsy. Then she spots you and beams. “Y/N!”

You smile back. “Hi, Robs. Hi, everyone, sorry we’re late.” You give a sheepish laugh and glance at Eddie. “My fault.”

“It was worth it though, right?” Eddie says enthusiastically, to the group at whole. He throws an arm around your shoulder and jostles you gently. “Doesn’t my girl look great?”

My girl. Your face burns. There’s a chorus of agreement from around the table — it makes you feel better but not better enough that you’re not still flushing furiously.

“Eddie,” you mumble, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring at the tabletop instead. You elbow him in the side, too gentle for what you feel he deserves.

Eddie laughs loudly. “What?” He asks, even though he knows exactly what.

You huff and wish the floor would swallow you up. When it doesn’t, you let Eddie pull you into the booth next to Robin. It’s a tight squeeze and Eddie’s thigh presses into yours, his jeans warm and rough on your skin where your dress rides up your thighs.

You think Eddie notices this too because he lets his hand fall to your lap instead of his own, spreading his hand over your thigh, his fingers grazing your bare skin. He squeezes you and you try not to show how much he affects you.

“Drinks?” He asks you, like everything is completely normal and you’re not a nervous, flustered wreck right now.

“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.

Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.

-

“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.

Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.

-

[in-another-april]

hey carmen!!

i love your writing so so much:(( the way you characterize Spencer is so sweetie pie:((

Do you mind giving us some sweetie pie spencer bestie to lover content!! this is a suuperr niche request so no pressure obvie!!

i love love this request thank u so much!!! let me know if you want me to change anything, i hope u enjoy <3

Before you get together, there is going to be so much mutual pining. Spencer is a mixture of insecure and clueless, he really cannot tell that you're trying to hit on him. Even when he can, he dismisses it as him just taking it the wrong way, because surely someone as perfect and wonderful as you wouldn't like him like that, right?

Literally everyone except for the two of you can tell you're in love, he is so not subtle!! You're the first person he looks for in a room, he practically sprints to sit next to you before anyone else can, and he gets so, so pouty whenever someone else tries to flirt with you. One time you come into work complaining about forgetting your jacket at home and he jumps out of his chair insisting, "You can borrow mine!!"

And, yeah, he doesn't get any work done that day, too busy blushing and staring at you in his clothes.  You conveniently "forget" to give it back, and he conveniently "forgets" to ask.

You're always looking for an excuse to be near each other, to touch each other: You fall asleep on his shoulder on the jet, he rests his head against yours. He takes your hand when he notices you seem stressed, you affectionately brush your thumb along the back of his hand. One of you goes in for a hug, the other holds on just long enough to be considered more than friendly...

And you are both still so oblivious!! No matter how many times you go to look at him and find he's already staring at you. No matter how many times you’re both reading/looking at something for a case and he leans in way closer than necessary to see it. (“Spencer, don’t you have your own copy?” “…I… seem to have misplaced it.”) Neither of you ever confront these obvious feelings.

Until!!!

A new agent on your floor assumes you’re together, complimenting what a cute couple you are. Spencer, of course, loses it, getting all bright red and completely flustered because there is nothing more that he wants than to be considered your boyfriend, even if it’s just being mistaken as such. (He’ll take what he can get.) But you take his reaction as him being uncomfortable with the idea, and in an attempt to ease his concern (even if it does break your heart), you quickly correct them that oh, no, you’re just friends.

Then Spencer’s face falls and his heart is the one that’s breaking because why were you so quick to correct them? Do you really not like the idea of being with him that much? He knows it’s silly to be upset, you’re not together and you never did anything to suggest you were (completely wrong but we’ll let it slide) but there was a small part of him that really hoped that maybe, possibly, his feelings were reciprocated.

But now, clearly, they’re not, and he can’t help himself from avoiding you the next day because it hurts to be around you knowing he doesn’t have a chance. But then it only gets worse because it hurts just as much to be away from you, and you seem so concerned about him, and oh god he has no idea what to do with himself.

He comes to your apartment after work, and you somehow answer the door right as he starts to knock. The words struggle to come out at first, but then they do, and then he’s rambling, and it’s not entirely intelligible. But you get the gist, and it’s that he’s so in love with you! He seems so frantic that for the first time in your life, you want him to stop talking, so naturally you do what any other normal person would. Kiss him like your life depended on it. Right in your doorway. And. I don’t think there’s anything more I can (or should) say.  

masterlist | inbox ← requests open! ♡

taglist - @lover-of-books-and-tea @maskysluvr @aurorsworld @wisteriaspencer @radioactiveinvisible @mandarinmoons (send an ask or message to be added/removed!)

[steddielations]

Dom Steve Fic Recs

Strange as Angels (soft dom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie hasn't been able to get himself off in months, and now he's high, sweaty, and horny, thinking about the very man sitting in his room in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of tiny athletic shorts, and he thinks he might die. Steve notices. Of course, Steve fucking notices, what, with all the squirming Eddie's doing. Steve offers to help get Eddie off. As friends do. (As long as those friends are completely in love with each other.)

Like The Hero Who Never Ran (dom awakening series) by callmejude

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Practice Makes Perfect (soft dom, blindfolds) by @mixsethaddams

“I need the practice, right?” asked Eddie. “Need to know what people might try to do.” Steve swallowed. “You’re able to quit the performance whenever you want, yeah?” asked Steve. “When you’re out there for real?” Eddie nodded. “I can say stop any time I want,” breathed Eddie. “Good,” said Steve, a familiar feeling creeping through him. Or Eddie signs up for a performance art piece and Steve helps him to practice.

Genius Loci (dom bottom, magic steve) by @sayesayes

It’s 1986, and Steve falls in love with a boy who is leaving. It’s 1990, and Eddie comes back home. The fic where Steve is a selectively mute, homesteading, truck-driving witch with head injuries and also somehow it's canonverse.

(Don't) cream your pants (soft dom steve awakening series) by @corrodedbisexual

“Don’t know how to cream your pants, huh?” Steve asks, unable to conceal a smirk. He hears a quiet whine as Eddie seems to try and make himself disappear inside the couch. “Want me to show you how?”

Gilded (dom steve, blindfolds, ice play) by @cheshiredogao3

Steve and Eddie are looking forward to a weekend all to themselves, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Trouble Looks Good On You (wip, spanking, kink discovery) by me indelicate

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again (wip, dom top and dom bottom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie has never felt like his body belongs to him. It gets worse after he's nearly mauled to death, left with scars and healing wounds, a lopsided chest, and more trauma stacked on top of everything already wrong with him. Steve Harrington finds out Eddie's trans by accident after the bats, and Eddie finds out Steve's surprisingly okay with it. More than okay with it.

The Bartender Was a Trap (soft dom) by @mixsethaddams

Wouldn’t it be hilarious if Steve was just naturally amazing at DND? Like he can see the strategy clear as day and can’t understand why the other players are taking so long to decide on their next move. He’s never caught by surprise by the story. He built his nearly flawless absolute weapon of a character in less than twenty minutes. Eddie fucking hates it but oh boy does it turn him on Or Steve rails Eddie while talking about D&D

Bite Through These Wires (soft dom steve's strap game series 🤭) by @steves-strapcollection

“Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?” Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline. “I come with all the coolest accessories, so clearly I’m still Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Relax (Lay it Back) (soft dom yoga instructor steve) by @wynnyfryd

Five times yoga instructor Steve teaches Eddie how to chill the fuck out, and the one time he learns his lesson.

Melt Me On Your Tongue (soft dom, bathing) by me indelicate

“This okay?” “Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight) (pleasure dom steve, virgin eddie) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Eddie has never been kissed. Steve apparently would very much like to volunteer to fix this.

Getting Lost in the Dark is My Favorite Part (wip, masochist virgin eddie, kink discovery) by queerontilmorning

After his near-death experience, Eddie decides it's time to get rid of his pesky virginity and heads to a gay bar. It leads to some... realizations... for both him and Steve.

You're a Sweet Shot of Kerosene (When I Threw it Back, it Poisoned Me) (wip, mob boss steve) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Whatever fucked up shit Eddie’s father had inadvertently roped him into simply by being what he was — a shit-stain excuse for a sperm donor who preferred sticking a needle in his arm to taking care of his family — well, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about to be him that pays that price. And maybe Eddie’s delirious, because by the time it’s apparently his turn and they’re dragging him down some hallway (and yeah, it’s not like Eddie’s not trying to put up a fight, but it feels almost performative at this point considering he’s pretty much hogtied here), the only real thought he has when they deposit him on yet another cold, wet tile floor is this: Uncle Wayne is gonna be so pissed at me if I get shot in the head tonight.

closer to you (soft dom steve) by @natesfwl

“C’mon baby, where's my little rockstar?” Steve spanks him, groans when he feels Eddie tense up around him from the impact, “Perform for me.” “You let me penetrate you” Eddie stutters out the line as he lifts himself up with his knees. “There you go,” Steve whispers, watching as Eddie fights to keep his eyes locked onto Steve’s when he sinks back down. or the really self-indulgent fic of steddie fucking to the song closer by NIN.

Destroy The Silence (drummer steve) by @artaxlivs

Steve becomes the drummer for Corroded Coffin and Eddie can't handle his thirst

Trouble and Temptation (series wip, businessman dilf steve) by @heartharps

“Come on, Harrington. I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly.” When Steve looked up, he was glaring, as stern and serious as ever. “Eddie, let me remind you that as far as I'm concerned, nothing has ever happened between us other than of a professional nature.”

Sting, and Other Brainworms (series with switching) by @riality-check

“Do you need to go down, baby?” Eddie gets like this, sometimes. Stuck between overwhelmed and incredibly bored. Steve watches until he remembers that they have a way to fix this. Eddie calls it a hard reset. Steve calls it fucking him until he can’t see straight.

Edification (sadist steve) by aristal

“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth and grins like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know. Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”

In My Boxers, Half Stoned (dom bottom Steve) by eddywow

"You can," Eddie said, almost sounding like he was nodding along to his words. The image was too pure for Steve. "You could say anything you want to me and I'd- I think I'd be into it. Because I saw your pics and like, I know your face isn't in them but- but I really like them. Is it okay that I liked them?"

Insatiable (public, skirts, cages) by @cheshiredogao3

When their club ritual is rudely interrupted, Steve and Eddie make a point of proving their bond—rather publicly.

Done Deal (series with switching) by @morningberriesao3

Steve Harrington doesn't have any money with him, so he offers to pay Eddie Munson some other way.

Lovebite (sub vampire eddie) by hellcore

It shouldn’t feel so good, being tasted.

* The next few don't have the tag but in my opinion they have dom Steve vibes and I want to include them here (:

Cyclical (wip, time loop fic, rimming, switching, lots of smut with plot) by @cuips-not-cute

steve keeps finding himself back in the boathouse where everything started, wrapped up in the arms of a boy who can’t stop dying. he's desperate to rewrite the timeline, trying everything he can think of to fix it. including falling in love.

Dirty Words by @morningberriesao3

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Memorize My Number, That's Why I Got A Phone (phone sex) by queerontilmorning

while on tour with Corroded Coffin, Eddie makes an important phone call to Steve.

My Right Hand Man (spanking, kink discovery) by @entanglednow

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

Shot Right Through (pierced eddie) by @entanglednow

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Pleased To Meet You (demon steve) by midnightdrive

Eddie accidentally summons a demon who is bound to fulfill his every wish. He, somehow, gets more than he had bargained for.

[itostea]

better than me?

Gojo comes home to find you fangirling over a book character named Aaron Warner

warnings: uni! au, reader is called pretty girl, fluff, idiots in love, idk what this even is

Unread messages. One Five missed calls. No good morning or good night texts.

As of late, Satoru thinks you’ve been distant towards him–ghosting him while he was suffering on a trip his parents forced him to go to. It gets to the point where he thinks he did something to upset you and before he can drive himself mad with far-fetched possibilities, he thinks he should check up on you.

“Honey I’m back!” He bellows out, discarding his shoes to the side of his apartment that you practically live in now. His brows furrow at the lack of response, a bit disappointed at the fact that you could’ve been out. 

It’s only when he catches a whiff of your shampoo and perfume that he allows himself to grin. His place was already overtaken by your presence: the scent of vanilla, the sweaters you leave neatly folded on the couch whenever it got too hot, the extra toothbrush in his bathroom. He missed you. 

He rushes to the living room, his entrance dramatic as his words. “There you are! Why weren’t you there to greet me at the door? Do you not love me anymore?”

“Oh ‘Toru,” You mumbled absentmindedly and it only took him a while to catch sight of the book in your hands–considering the fact his eyes landed on your (his) hoodie you wore. “You’re back. How was your trip?” 

He frowns, his lips parting to release a sigh. “That’s it?”

His heart does something funny when you finally look up at him, tilting your head in genuine confusion. “Hm?”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Wait one sec let me finish this chapter first, Satoru.”

It’s ‘Toru, 'he wants to say but settles on walking to where you sit, his eyes landing on the stack of books on the table–most of which seem to be of the romance genre. There’s a colorful display of sticky tabs decorating the pages of the book and a pen you keep close to you. He leans down to squat, his fingers playing with the book tabs–his mind wandering to the time you mentioned reading to him. “I thought you were reading literature. Like Shakespeare or I don’t know! Not sappy books about love.”

“Sappy books about love is literature. And who reads Shakespeare for fun?”

“Like I would know,” he mutters, standing up to walk behind the couch where he can get a peek of the pages–an offended laugh escaping his lips the moment he sees what scene you were reading so seriously. He easily steals the book out of your hands, ignoring your protests. “So Aaron Warner huh?”

“I was reading that!”

“Baby I can’t believe you were ignoring my messages for this,” he clicks his tongue. “This is worse than catching you make out with another man.”

“Okay that’s a bit of a stretch and besides, you go on trips all the time. Also, who would I even make out with?”

“Aaron Warner!”

You roll your eyes. “Satoru, he’s literally words on paper.”

He narrows his eyes at you and for a moment, you think he’s going to stop. Yet, he continues to observe the stack of books on the table all over again. “So that’s what my money goes towards? Books about other men–”

“Hey! I bought these books with my own money!”

“Oh,” he huffs, suddenly looking insulted. “So you don’t spend my money?”

Your lips release an annoyed groan and you roll your eyes for the nth time–wondering how his mood was all over the place. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Why do you need to read about Aaron Warner when you have me?” He says, climbing over the couch to sit next to you. You don’t object when he easily props you on his lap and discards the book to the side–his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Your heart clenches at the feeling of his hands gripping your hips as if it were second nature to him–how he looked at you like he had the world on his lap. 

You clear your throat, not able to resist the urge to tease him. “You know. I wish I had a strong, handsome man holding me right now.”

“What? Like Aaron Warner?”

“That’d be great actually–” Your words die on your lips as he begins his assault of kisses on your face–peppering them along your jaw and neck. Gojo can’t help but smile against your neck at the sound of your surprised laughter, his head coming up so he can flash you a boyish grin. 

“Still think he’s better than me sweetheart?”

“You’re jealous of literal words on paper!” You try to retort, your lips a bit swollen and your hair fairly all over the place. He can’t help but press another wet kiss to your cheek, laughing at your sound of disgust.

“So what if I’m jealous? My girl’s not paying attention to me squealing over–”

“I was not squealing–!”

“--Squealing over a book character,” he finishes, taking his hands off your hips to cross them.

You frown, heaving a sigh at the sight of him–a bit affected by the loss of warmth his hands provided. You open your arms, looking at him expectedly. “Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your messages or calls while you were on your trip, in your billion dollar vacation house by the way.”

He only huffs at your sarcasm but you don’t miss the way his lips twitch in amusement. “And?”

“And,” you roll your eyes again. “I’m sorry I said Aaron Warner was better than you. So you can please just hold me again?”

Your boyfriend watches you carefully, pretending to sulk at the sight of your teasing smile. You’re cold to the touch–your hands and feet always contrasting the warmth of his own. You still smell like yourself but he likes how he can catch a whiff of the body wash he uses on you. I miss you, is what his hug says. 

His arms easily flip you on your back as he presses his weight over you, his grin wide and lovesick. “You know what? I think I might read the book myself to see what’s so special about this Aaron guy.”

You laugh. “Are you being for real?”

“For real, real, pretty girl.”

Bonus:

It’s been a week since Satoru’s returned from his trip and you’re starting to think he likes the books a bit too much. And you’re still convinced he’s not over your petty argument about Aaron Warner–seeing as he rushes to you on a peaceful evening. 

“You wanna know something sweetheart?”

“What is it now ‘Toru,” you groan, having just woken up from your nap. 

“Aaron Warner’s only 5’9.”

“What about it?”

“I’m 6’3.”

“...” 

“...”

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“Add that onto the list “Why Toru is better than Aaron Warner.”

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

[lila-went-missing]

Can I have a whipped!Clarisse x sunshine!reader headcannons or one shot idk (could reader be either a Hecate daughter or just unspecified?) :3

Have a nice day/night

Ugh, I love Grumpy X Sunshine.

Clarisse x Sunshine!Reader Headcannons

Okay, literally no one expected you two to start dating.

Plot-twist of the century vibes.

You're so sweet and kind to everyone, offering your magical insight to anyone who asks you.

And she's so tough and brutal all the time, always picking fights with people over the smallest things.

Literal polar opposites, but opposites attract.

I feel like she would be pining over you from the moment you met.

Something about you drew her in. Maybe the way you carried yourself, maybe it was your natural talent for magic.

Either way, she's so whipped for you.

You have her wrapped around your finger without even trying.

I feel like she's the kind of person to practice what she's going to say to you before she actually asks you out.

I can just imagine her pacing around her cabin when no one is around whispering the script she made in preparation.

Because of her dad constantly ignoring her, and what little attention she does get being him telling her that she'll never be good enough, or never as good as her brothers, she has a MASSIVE fear of rejection.

That really plays a role in how she asks you out.

She'd literally be so nervous it's not even funny.

When she does eventually ask you out there is a lot of stuttering and stumbling over words.

You would probably be in your cabin, just finishing brewing a potion when she comes to you.

You can't help but laugh at how nervous she is, finding it rather adorable.

Obviously she gets really offended and tries to leave, telling you to forget she said anything in the first place.

You pull her back to you and kiss her.

"I wasn't laughing to make fun of you, I was laughing because you're cute."

From that moment on, her protectiveness SKYROCKETS.

Someone looks at you wrong? They're in the infirmary getting stitches.

Someone calls you a freak because of your mom being Hecate? She's lost dessert privileges for the next five months.

Eventually you do have to talk to her and tell her to tone it down.

But that just ends in y'all making out on her bed.

How is she supposed to be serious when her girlfriend is sitting there looking so pretty and perfect, and her lips are just so kissable.

SPEAKING OF, you can't tell me this girl isn't obsessed with kissing you.

Doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, she will kiss you at any point in time.

Lips, forehead, nose, cheek, neck, shoulder, you name it.

She could literally be about to break someones bones until you come up.

The mood switch is IMMEDIATE.

From "I will literally murder you." to "Oh hey baby, how was your day." and just kissing all over your face.

It gives everyone whiplash.

But they get used to it eventually.

She's just so in love with you.

You're literally the first person to ever show her what it's like to genuinely be loved and not just wanted as a weapon.

You're the first and only person she says "I love you" to.

You're especially the first person and only person she means it to.

It takes her a while to open up because she hates being perceived as weak or soft. After a while though, she will start coming to you with her problems.

She'll occasionally come to your cabin in the middle of the night after having a nightmare, usually about you dying.

She never wants to talk about it, she just wants you to hold her until she falls back asleep.

Everyone in both of your cabins comes to love y'all.

I like to think that Ares cabin is sworn to a mutual secrecy because almost all of them have someone they sneak in at night to cuddle.

But they all have a reputation to uphold no one talks about it.

If you think regular Clarisse likes to cuddle, Whipped!Clarisse is 10x worse.

She'll never admit it, but cuddling you is one of her favorite things ever.

Her guilty pleasure is laying on your chest or being the little spoon.

She just likes the feeling of being held by the only person she's ever loved.

This ended up being A LOT longer than expected. Sorry (not really) y'all, went on a tangent.

[luveline]

Hii I adore your writing and am in desperate need of more single dad Spencer <333

many thanks, Anon in love :)

tysm!!

Spencer named his daughter Amanda because it means worthy of love. He told Emily he wanted there to be no confusion, that Amanda was loved from the very second she was born. You've been hopeless since you found out. 

"Amy, please stop," Spencer says, looking down between the picnic table and the white and red tablecloths, where Amanda sits in the grass beneath tying his shoelaces together. 

"Don't know what you're saying," Amy mumbles, frustrated as her fingers get caught in another knot. 

Spencer gives you a look you're all too thrilled to receive, like Amanda's cuteness has something to do with you. "Can you make her stop?" he asks. 

"I don't want to," you say, not whining but maybe close, "she's so sweet, who am I to stop her?" 

"You know, I'll fall if I stand up. She wants to see me in pain. Amy, you're exhibiting signs of a budding psychopath." He smiles at her lovingly. "I'm gonna fall when I stand up!" 

"You won't!" 

"I will! I will, and then Y/N's gonna be embarrassed to be seen with me, and you're gonna have a dad covered in bruises." Spencer pouts at her. You love how he winds her up, how he talks to her like she's a little grown up and the charming way she responds, big words in little tones. 

"You're beautiful no matter what, dad," Amy says. 

It's too practised to be natural. Spencer must say it to Amy often for her to know it off by heart. You swoon like a cheap tent in a hurricane, casting your gaze around Rossi's huge garden for saving. Everyone has purposefully left you to suffer here in paradise, uncaring when Spencer torments you with all his loveliness.

His daughter is worse, climbing up onto the bench between you and Spencer before widening her eyes at you. She looks sort of like Spencer but perhaps more like her mother. Whoever that is must be pretty, and good at giving puppy dog eyes. 

"Do you want something?" you ask her, attempting to sound like JJ does when she talks to her. You're wobbly but getting there, evidenced by the honey-thick smile you've earned. 

"Can I sit on your lap?" she asks. 

You open your arms obediently. She's slight like her dad and doesn't feel like she weighs much as she sits on your thighs, her face smushed into your cardigan. 

"Is everything okay?" you ask, bringing your hand up behind her back automatically. You're not sure if you should be hugging her but Spencer doesn't protest. 

"Can I asked you something?" 

"Sure, you can ask me." You turn your head to expose your ear. 

Amy grins and leans up, whispering, "Can we go get– can we get jelly, please? Pink jelly." 

"Does Uncle Rossi have jelly?" Spencer asks. 

"Yeah, daddy, I saw it in the kitchen." 

"I can't come, I'll fall. Will you take her, please?" Spencer asks with a frown. "It's a lot of knots." 

"Yeah, I can take her. I don't mind. Come on, honey, let's go look."

Amy jumps down off of your lap but waits for you, holding out her hand. You take it and she leads you past your coworkers crowding a hot grill to Rossi's patio doors. It's cooler inside, and you've no need for your sunglasses. You put them on the table next to covered bowls of pasta and salad, poking at lids and tin foil curiously. "Which one did you see the jelly in?" 

"I don't think there's jelly. I want to ask you a secret question." 

You look down at Any with wide eyes. "What question is that, honey?" 

"Are you and my dad in love?"

You laugh sudden enough to make you cough, looking down at Spencer's little girl totally speechless. Smarts are genetic for sure. She asks huge questions. 

"Why do you think that?" you ask, trying for gentle and sounding strangled.

"Because you're really nice to dad and he told me that you're pretty and funny and you'd definitely play Cracker Cards with me." 

"He said that?" 

"Yes!" she says, looking up at you with a smile. "Are you going to get married?" 

You rub your face. Ten minutes later and you're carrying Amy on your hip as she carries a big bowl of pasta, a metal fork in her hands. Spencer has opted to take his shoes off completely and untie the knots, but he seems to have made little progress. "That's not jelly," he says. 

"We couldn't find it." 

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks, abandoning his shoes to put his hand behind your arm and shoulder. 

"I'm okay. Are you okay, Amy?" you ask. 

Amy stabs a piece of pasta with her fork with a big smile on her little face. "I think I said the wrong thing, dad." 

"What did you say?" he asks, looking between you both in concern. "I'm sorry, we're working on context clues." 

"It's okay. It wasn't wrong, it's just, I wasn't expecting it," you say. 

"Well, what did she say?" 

You shrug, "It wasn't really–" 

"I asked her if she'd want marry you, dad, and about the photo of you at the christmas party. It was nice!" Amy insists. 

Spencer flushes with a bright red blush instantaneously. It's shocking how fast his cheeks blossom considering the sun's been out for hours now. He laughs nervously. "I see." 

"Amy!" Hotch calls. "Sweetheart, do you want a hotdog?" 

Amy pushes the bowl of cold pasta you'd made her onto Spencer's lap. "Yes, please," she says, hopping off of the bench. 

You and Spencer meet eyes and swiftly look away. There's something between you both, longing and long looks, too much affection, excuses to be near one another. You really do like him, and maybe he likes you, but you aren't ready to deal with it now. 

"Do you want to go get a hotdog too?" Spencer asks. 

"Yep." You jump up. "Good idea." 

Maybe you can confess your feelings at the next family barbecue. (Probably not.) 

[artistsfuneral]

Jaskier meets Death at a forked path. He has never seen them in person before, their face - although incredible kind looking - is not one he's familiar with and yet he instinctively knows who is in front of him.

It's quite the idyllic picture to be honest. The path Jaskier has been following for the past few hours is lined with rough stone walls, the ones that are keeping flocks of sheep from straying too far. The sun is out and shining through the tree's leaves, creating a kaleidoscope of dancing shadows on the fresh grass. Death sits under one such dancing shadow-patch, surrounded by napping sheep. Their left hand is idly petting the spotted fur of a guardian dog, with their right, they're waving Jaskier over to join them.

He silently wonders if he should be scared. Others certainly would be terrified upon seeing Death waiting for them, but Jaskier has always been easily intrigued. Besides, Death is hardly looming over him, it's more like they're waiting for him - like one may wait for an old friend. It could be a trick of course, he muses as he walks over to where Death is sitting, then again it feels like the two of them could have met many, many times before and in much worse situations than this. So who is Jaskier to question Death?

The closer he gets the more he is able to take in. They're tall - taller than anyone he's met before, Jaskier thinks - and incredibly pretty. Not in the perfectly manicured kind of pretty, like some of the most beautiful darlings at court tend to be. No, Death carries a natural loveliness that can only be found and never created, like a special constellation of freckles, an off-center nose, or a small gap between your teeth. Death is everyone Jaskier ever sung of combined in one person, which makes him wonder if they always look like this or if they changed their appearance to please Jaskier's eyes specifically. If the latter, he'd surely feel flattered.

"Come sit with me, sweetheart," Death says and Jaskier is delighted to hear their voice. It's a very nice voice. He wants to hear Death laugh, he realizes as he sinks down next to them on the grass. Their eyes meet his and Death sends him the kindest smile, "It's been a while since I've seen you, sweetheart, I'm glad to see you happy and healthy." Jaskier grins, because what a funny thing for Death to say, but he can hear the honesty in their words. "Oh you know, just the usual aches and pains of my slowly progressing age. Nothing you haven't heard a hundred times before, I'm sure," Jaskier happily chatters back in the same familiar tone. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?" He asks and reaches for his pack. Might as well take his lunch break now, while the fruit he bought earlier this day are still fresh. Death answers his question with an agreeing hum and oh yes, Jaskier might just fall in love with them right then and there.

He focuses on his lunch and wills his foolish heart to calm. "Would you like some?" he asks Death, because his Mama raised him well and eating alone is never quite as enjoyable as sharing a meal. Death looks at him with amusement in their eyes. "I can not eat, but I appreciate the gesture."

Jaskier sighs, "What a pity."

"A small price to pay for a life like mine."

"You're alive?"

"I am here, am I not?"

He looks at Death wide eyed, a hundred thoughts stumbling through his mind at the same time. "I have so many questions."

"And I have a favor to ask of you, sweetheart," Death retords not unkindly. Throughout their short conversation the amusement never quite left their eyes and while Jaskier would normally feel patronized by such a look he somehow knows that Death is simply enjoying his company.

"Are we doing this right? Doesn't this whole asking for a favor thing usually go the other way around?" Death laughs and Jaskier's heart does a little jump, his fingers itch to write a new song. "You read too much, sweetheart."

"I don't believe there's such a thing as reading too much."

"The words of a scholar and a poet."

"At your service."

"Of course. I always get what I want," Death says knowingly, shoving yet another metaphorical box of Pontar towards Jaskier. Lucky for him he has long since learned to not think about these kind of things too much. It does feel a little bit like Death tricked him, though he loves a good repartee. "I have to admit, I am curious indeed. What could I possibly offer to you?"

Death turns their head away from him, looking at the dog in deep consideration. "I need..." Death pauses and Jaskier almost wants to think of it in a hesitant way, "to win a bet." The bard's shoulders drop immediately. "Ah," he says, because the hesitation now starts to make sense. Surely Death must know this of him. "I don't do bets, I'm afraid. It never ends well for the poets caught in between."

"I know," Death agrees easily and not very reassuringly, as a matter of fact. "But I am in need of a song. A song to bring the gods to tears and neither can I write nor sing. What I can do, is offer you my protection."

Jaskier's mind floods with thoughts.

Protection from Death.

The two of them stare into each other's eyes, the world around them timeless, everlasting. Finally, it is Jaskier who breaks the contact and returns to his bundle of food. He bites into a fruit, it's sweet juices run down his chin and drip onto his chemise. "I will make the gods weep," he declares and watches Death smile full of warmth.

[ruskaroma]

Absolutely fucking adore the idea of Constantine having a very talkative and energetic little human around that he calls “bunny” and treats you like one, treats you like a pet.

You really think that you’re Constantine’s sidekick because you follow him around everywhere he goes and you’re basically living in his apartment because you just – never – fucking – leave. No matter what Constantine does, no matter how mean he treats you, you just can’t bring yourself to hate him because he just might be the only light you have in your life – which is a weird thing to say considering Constantine probably possesses the most darkest mind in the world and you haven’t even seen half of it.

When he’s in a good mood, he’d treat you out for a dinner and actually conversates with you like a normal human being (even though nothing about him – or you – is normal) and tell demon and angel stories you’d always find yourself drawn into, chin on your palm, wide doe eyes while listening to his deep voice talk.

Most of the time you’d get very excited about something and very eager to learn that you’re practically vibrating in your seat. It’s such a normal occurrence to Constantine that he knows how to deal with you when you’re in that state of mind.

“Wait so – if demons and angels exist, is there a possibility that vampires are also true? Are they real? Please, tell me they’re real – I mean, have you ever met one before, John? God, that would be so freaking cool. I always wanted to be a vampire –”

Constantine lets you talk. Even though he wouldn’t quite grasp the other words that you’re saying because he really feels like you’re rapping instead of talking. Not to mention the hand movements you’d do while you spew random little facts out of nowhere, or when you’d remember a memory from childhood that you’ll end up telling him; Constantine really does find you quite adorable.

And you’re a bit energetic too. Well, a bit wouldn’t really cover it. You’re full blown energetic who sometimes acts like you drank five cans of caffeine the moment you open your eyes, but Constantine knows all your energy is natural and comes from your heart.

You wouldn’t be able to sit down next to him at a diner without your hands fiddling with something or when you just really… couldn’t keep your mouth shut. It’s a hard thing to do, really. 

Then there’s Constantine, who likes to take advantage of your behavior by saying something really perverted and inappropriate.

“Hey, bunny.”

“What?”

“Would my cock be enough to get you to stop talking?”

“Good one. But that would only make it a lot worse.”

“I know. I’ve heard it,” he’d snicker, then would press a kiss on your cheeks that would make you flutter and scoff in annoyance. He always smelled like cigarettes and something minty. “I’m joking, bun.”

“Yeah, it would be a joke if it wasn’t true,” you rolled your eyes. “You’ve witnessed my mouth doing a lot more work than usual when I’m sucking your dick.”

“Well, you should be proud of yourself, bun. Looks like your mouth got more talent other than talking.”

“Haha, very funny.”

His comments like that don’t really offend you or anything because you know he’s joking. You know he secretly loves your rambles despite being mean about it, because that’s just how he is.

But during sex, it’s a whole different story.

Constantine has a habit of making you cry on the bed by making your rambles even worse. He knows that you ramble when you’re either feeling flustered, nervous, or horny, and most of the time you get all those feelings at once when you’re in front of his cock, which means a sudden flip of the switch inside your brain just goes off and you start saying these deliciously filthy words that never fails to make Constantine hard.

“What’s that, little bun? I didn’t hear you,” Constantine smirked, voice teasing as his hand gripped the base of his thick cock, smearing the dripping tip all over your lips as you struggled to catch your breath after he fucked your throat. “Where did my little talkative bunny go, hm? Why is she not talking?”

“J–John–”

“Oh? What’s that? Is the little bunny speaking?” Constantine mocked, pulled his dick away from your mouth as he gripped your chin with one hand. “If my bunny wants my attention, that’s not the right name she should be addressing me, yeah? Already forgot our rules around here, bun? I let you get a taste of my cock and you’re already defying me?”

“No–no, no, d-daddy, that’s not–that’s not what I mean,” you sniffled, your eyes getting teary from your kneeling position as well as when you heard Constantine’s mocking voice above you. “Daddy, please–just want–just want your cock in my pussy again, p-please–”

“Oh, you do? Poor little bunny is so wet and horny now, hm? My little bunny is feeling so empty?”

“Y-yes, daddy, I–I feel so empty–”

“Look at you crying. You look so pathetic,” he grinned, grabbing you by the hair and throwing you on the bed. You were already naked, already covered in bruises from the makeout session earlier and the handprint on your ass was starting to become more evident and red as minutes went by. “Where does my bunny want daddy’s cock, huh? Where do you want it, bun, tell me.”

“I–In my–In my pussy, daddy, want it in my–my cunny–” you sniffled again, pawing at his shoulders as your tears were starting to blur your vision. “Daddy, please–please, I want you so bad–miss your cock so much, feel so empty and wet and I just wanna–”

“Shhh, bun, I know. I know what you want,” he petted your hair with one hand while his other was guiding his cock in your cunt, the fat tip circling teasingly on your already puffy pussy lips and not quite going in. “Wish I could record you like this and make you watch it after. Fucking show you how filthy you are while begging for my cock. All the dirty shit you say when you’re so desperate for me.”

You keened, nodding absentmindedly even though you didn’t understand a single word he said. Your mind was only focusing on the delicious feeling of his cock rubbing against your sloppy cunt.

“Yes–yes, please, daddy, d-do what you want–do want you want, I’m yours–bunny is all yours–”

“That’s right. That’s my little bunny, knowing her place and where she rightfully belongs,” Constantine grinned, and it was only then he slammed his cock all the way inside you, stretching your walls wide as you bite onto his shoulders to keep yourself from waking up the entire building. “I would choose this tight little pussy over entering the fucking gates of heaven.”

[sleekswosobession]

they’re idiots

patri guijarro x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: i love patri sm, and again naturally if my writing needs to improve just gimme a shout

TW: mentions of panic attack

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

The game was won, it was a very nice win. A comfortable 9-1, and that was fine. What wasn’t fine however were the fans after the game. In one area in particular they just kept throwing shirt and anything for us players to sign. I see Patri, my girlfriend getting frustrated at everything that’s happening and it doesn’t take a genius to see how overwhelmed she is.

Over the past few weeks it seems that the hate towards her has become obscurely large. How could anyone hate her? Especially now that she’s just gone and scored two. As much as she likes to say it doesn’t bother her I know it does and I hate to see the way she loses confidence over meaningless peoples opinions.

I walk over to the section in which fans are screaming, at this point i’m not sure how we can call them fans if they act like this. Alexia and some of the others are kicking game balls into the crowd. I stand right next to Patri, placing my hand on her lower back. She looks surprised, but continues with the overwhelming amount of fans who came to watch.

Around 5 minutes later, I can’t stand to watch her practically near a panic attack. So I say goodbye to the fans and drag her into the tunnel with me, leading her toward an area where no one would be for the time being.

“Patri? Amor, can you look at me?” I whisper, touching her forearm softly. She hesitates and looks up.

It’s then that I can see how conflicted her eyes look, how they’re slightly covered in a layer of tears, how it looks like she’s struggling to breathe. I immediately know what’s wrong.

“Hey, hey. Sit down on the floor with me. Come on.” I guide her making sure her back is rested against the wall. She looks straight up at the ceiling, trying to keep her tears at bay. My heart breaks a little.

“Amorcita, breathe with me. Feel my heartbeat got it?” I take her hand and place it on my heart as I start making exaggerated breathing patterns to help get her back to reality.

“There you go, just like that. You’re ok, they can’t see you. They can’t harm you. It’s just me.” I notice by her movements that she’s coming back. Something which I smile lightly at.

“Gracias” She says so lightly that I can barely hear her. All I do is smile.

We sit against the wall, no words need to be said. Until Alexia in all her glory strides down the hallway in her white fit.

“Hola.” She greets with a smile coming to stand in front of us.

“I suggest you two get back to the changing rooms. Nearly everyone is there, they sent me looking.” She then shifts her focus to my girlfriend.

“Patri, I’m sorry you have to be dealing with all of this stuff. It’s not easy. Just try not to get too worked up. Only makes it worse for yourself.”

“Thanks Ale.” She looks up at the captain who smiles before heading back to the change rooms.

“Well, we should probably go. After our showers, we’ll go back to the apartment and I’ll take your phone.” She looks at me questioningly. “So you don’t go into a spiral of bad thoughts. I know how you are. I won’t let that happen. Ok?” She nods and I pull her up heading back into the changing rooms. The girls all look happy but also worn down, I can empathise with that from all the trainings and games we’ve done.

Still there is a slight buzz in the air after the impressive win. Even if some exhaustion is the cost.

- - - - -

When Patri and I arrive back home, I stick to my word and she hands me her phone reluctantly. I put both of our phones in my bedside drawer and arrive in the living room to be greeted with Patri on the couch, two glasses of water on the coffee table and one of the Hunger Games movies starting to play on the tv.

I walk over smiling and sit down on the couch cuddling into Patri who only smiles. This is a good way to end the day all things considered.

“Te amo, Patri.”

“Yo también te amo, cariño.” She kisses the top of my head, turning her focus back to the screen.

[wildrangers]

Can This Be a Real Thing, Can It? // Jack Hughes

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: As lines become blurry, you seek answers from Jack.

Warnings: Cursing, resolved angst, lots of fluff

You weren’t surprised when a knock sounded from your door, despite the late hour. Secretly, you’d been hoping he’d come after the plane landed like he had been for weeks now. You set aside the book you’d been reading and padded to your front door, revealing an exhausted-looking Jack.

“Does it feel as bad as it looked?” you asked in greeting, taking in his swollen lip.

“Probably feels worse” he admitted, pulling you close. You wrapped your arms around his middle, breathing in the scent of him.

“Would ice help?” you asked, your voice muffled by the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“No but a kiss would” he replied and you rolled your eyes as you pulled away.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Why would be I be kidding? I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you but it looks like it hurts you to talk, let alone for me to touch your mouth” you grimaced, eyeing him skeptically.

He pouted at you, looking all the more pathetic with his fat lip. “Fine, we’re icing it first though, go sit down on the couch” you sighed and he quickly did as commanded.

You heard his soft voice greet your cat, Piper, who you assumed was making herself at home on his lap. The little cheat loved him way more than she did you. After wrapping a few ice cubes in a soft towel, you made your way to the living room, watching him coo lovingly at your cat. You smiled at the scene until his own lips spread into a grin and you saw the gap.

“Holy shit, you lost a tooth!” you gasped, nudging Piper over so you could sit beside him, your legs settling over his lap.  

“I don’t want to talk about it” he groaned, laying his head on the back of your couch.

“It’s cute” you said, surprised to find you meant it.  Your compliment just earned you a glare though so you gently placed the ice on his mouth, a wince of pain overtaking his features. His eyes closed as a comfortable silence settled around you both, broken only by Piper purring on his other side.

As you watched his face slowly relax as the ice numbed his pain, you couldn’t help but note how domestic this scene felt. Jack, you, and your cat curled up on the couch after a roadie with you tending to his injury. If only you actually knew what the two of you were, maybe then you’d feel as relaxed as Jack looked.

***

You two had met at the team’s unofficial Halloween party, at the invitation of your neighbor Dawson. You really were closer with his girlfriend, but you all hung out sometimes so you accepted the invite. As soon as Dawson introduced you two, you were done for. You would do just about anything to earn one of his genuine smiles, the kind that lit up his whole face. You two spent most of that night chatting and you couldn’t believe how quickly time flew.

But you were swamped with school and he was busy with the team. Over the next couple months, you two slowly became good friends, meeting up when you could but mostly Facetiming or texting. Until New Year’s Eve anyway.

Nico’s apartment was noisy but you two had tucked yourselves into a back room, clearly not meant for guests but at least you two could actually talk.

“You’re fucking with me” you laughed, wiping tears from your eyes.

“I swear to God, he ripped the braces right off my teeth” he grinned and you lost your breath altogether as he continued describing it. As you tried to get your breathing under control, you rested your head on his shoulder without a second thought. It felt only natural when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

This was one of your favorite things about being with Jack. You two had great conversations but silence never felt awkward. Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn’t hear the rest of the party counting down to midnight down the hall. As they got to single digits, you moved from your spot on his shoulder to see him already staring at you intently. You held his gaze until you couldn’t fight your eyes dropping down to his mouth and back up again, willing him to make a move.

As the countdown neared its end, your heart was pounding in your chest and nerves twisted your stomach. While the group outside cheered, he leaned in, his lips finally meting yours. You couldn’t describe how you felt in that moment—all you could remember was how your lips locked together like puzzle pieces, his hands falling to the curve of your waist like they’d been molded to fit that exact spot.

You thought that moment would change your relationship and, in some ways, it did. He’d pulled away with that shit eating grin of his as he led you back to the party. You two hung out a lot more after that, almost always at your place. At first that confused you, but as time went on you wondered if it was because so many of the guys lived in his building and he didn’t want them to see you. Not that you thought he was ashamed of you but rather that he wanted to keep it lowkey. Which you could do, honest.

***

Seriously, for months that was what it was. When he had an off day or you had a light school week, you two were more than friends. Otherwise, you chatted like you had been, very little changing between you two. Right when you fully accepted the reality of the situation was the first night that he showed up at your door late one night.

You’d been just about to go to bed when you heard a knock. You assumed it was at your neighbor’s door until your phone vibrated beside you. Are you up?  followed by another knock at what you now realized was your door. Rage flew through you—you could do casual, fine. But to show up announced with a ‘you up’ text? Unacceptable. As you pulled the door open to tell him just that, you stopped when you saw how deflated he looked.

“I’m sorry, I know I have no right to just show up like this” he said, sad blue eyes meeting yours.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worry flooding your chest.

“It’s not even that big of a deal, we just lost the game and I had a shit night and all I could think was that I wanted to see you. I should have at least called or something, I mean—oh shit, it’s Tuesday, isn’t it? You have your 8AM class tomorrow morning, I’ll go, I’m—.”

You’d cut off his rambling by grabbing his hand and pulling him into your apartment. “Look, I don’t mind if you stay but I am seriously exhausted so if you came here for any kind of action, you’re in for some disappointment.”

“Seriously, I just wanted to be with you” he insisted and you gave him a doubtful look. “I mean, if you’d offered, I wouldn’t have said no but that wasn’t my intention.”

You took in the slope of his shoulders, the way he was folded into himself in a way that was so un-Jack-like, and believed him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly and he nearly collapsed into you in response, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head buried in your neck. You two stayed like that for a while, the tension in his back slowly releasing as you held him.

“Don’t know what there is to say” he finally mumbled, “I totally blew it tonight.”

You shook your head as you gently pushed him back to cup his face in your hands, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “Jack, you are one person. You’re allowed a bad night. So, let’s get you some pajamas and into bed and you can tell me all about it, yeah?”

He nodded glumly and you pulled him towards you, your hands staying on his cheeks as your lips met. This kiss was different from any you’d shared. He normally took charge, his confidence bleeding into every aspect of who he was. But tonight, he kissed you tentatively, slow and sweet in a way that didn’t set your heart aflame but instead made it settle down in your chest. It had felt vulnerable and real and like the start of something new.

***

A little over a month later, you returned to the present moment. He came over after most games now, celebrating the wins and seeking comfort after losses. But still, no labels, no discussion of what you two were. Suddenly, the absurdity of it hit you—you were giving this man your all without even knowing if he still just thought of you two as friends with benefits.

With that thought, you took his hand, placed it over yours that had been holding the ice in place and stood up, turning your back to him.

“Where you going pretty lady?” he asked quietly. Normally, a line that silly would earn him an eye roll and a giggle. Tonight, you just wondered over to the windows, taking in the city below you.

“Y/N?” he asked again and you took deep breaths trying to get your thoughts in order. The long pause must have made him nervous because you heard him sit up.

“Jack, what are we doing?”

“Well, right this moment, you’re making me nervous” he admitted and you sighed, turning to face him.

“Jack, seriously, I need you to be honest with me.”

“About what? I don’t understand what’s happening right now, we’ve done this so many times.”

“Exactly, Jack! We have done this countless times and yet I have no idea what your intentions are. Every step of the way, I’ve thought ‘Well, it must be happening for real now’ but no, that was just stupid wishing on my part if you don’t even know what I’m asking you” you replied, turning back to face the window. You’d be damned if he saw you cry.

You were met with the first awkward silence you two had ever shared and you shook your head at yourself—you should have known better. Lost in your thoughts, you jumped slightly when his hands landed on your shoulders, gently turning you around. You let him, and he buried his face in your neck like that first late night he’d come to you see, seeking comfort after a loss. You allowed yourself to enjoy his presence for a moment before lightly pushing him back.

“I need you to tell me what we are, Jack.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do” he sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair, confused eyes meeting your own.

“No, you’re not saying anything! You’re just holding me, like you always do.”

“Exactly!” he snapped and you flinched back slightly; he’d never raised his voice before and it startled you. “When I have a bad day or game, I come here because you always know how to make me feel less shitty. When I have the best day or a great game, I want to share it with you because you make me that much happier. Fuck, I’ve been a goner for you since Halloween for god’s sake! I don’t understand how you don’t know that.”

“Because you’ve never said it, Jack!”

“Neither have you!”

That response made you pause and quickly sort through your memories only to find he was right—you hadn’t said anything either, allowing you two to float in this gray space the whole time.

“When you didn’t say anything, I just assumed you wanted it this way. Every time I pushed to get closer, you let me but only so far. So, I just left it alone” he said much more quietly, avoiding your gaze.

You sighed, leaning in to rest your head against his chest.  You hadn’t even realized you’d done it—just like he said, whenever you felt any emotion intensely, you wanted to share it with him. After a moment’s pause, you felt his hand gently tangle in your hair as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“We’ve been stupid, haven’t we?” he muttered and you laughed, pulling away to look up at him.

“Yeah, I’d say so” you agreed. “I just never wanted to push you so I left it and then got mad when you did the same. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too” he whispered, tracing your lips with shaky fingers. You couldn’t remember a time he seemed nervous or unsure but if his quivering hands didn’t prove it, the searching look in his eyes certainly did. “Can we do this now? The right way?”

Your heart tripped at the slight crack in his voice and you nodded, “Yes, please.”

That earned you a grin, albeit one tooth short. His hands, a bit more sure of themselves now, cupped your face as he pulled you to him. Your lips met and you took great care to be gentle even though you desperately wanted to claim him, pull him into you as much as you could. But within 30 seconds, you felt him flinch as you accidentally hit a sore sport so you pulled away.

“I guess the kiss didn’t help as much as you thought it would” you teased.

“I mean, it did just not physically” he admitted and you laughed. You laced your hands behind his neck, pulling him down to place a kiss on his forehead.

“My poor baby boy” you cooed and he swatted you away as you laughed again.

“You swear you don’t think I look dumb with this stupid gap?” he asked shyly.

“I thwear it” you promised earnestly and he grabbed your sides, throwing you onto the couch before tickling you ruthlessly.

“Can’t make fun of me if you can’t talk” he smirked, triumphant, as you wiggled helplessly beneath him.

“I yield, I yield!” you gasped out and he stopped. Piper had long since abandoned you two so you laid out fully on the couch, trying to catch your breath. Jack laid himself on top of you, resting his head on your chest as his arms snaked around you. You absently ran your hands through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

“Jack?” you started softly, not wanting to break the peaceful silence.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think you’ll leave your teeth like that?”

“Fuck no.”  

A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed, I wrote this one in a couple of hours but I wanted to get it out before Game 4 tomorrow. Please let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed :)

[billskeis]

RAHH could you make a tom kaulitz fluff like how the female reader is younger 2 years so like hes 17 while shes 15 and he helps her with her homework 😅 they ARE together btw :)

2006 tom :)

ᡣ𐭩 tom helping his gf w math

“i’m back!” you turn to look around at tom who enters his bedroom with drinks and snacks. you were currently staying over at his place so he can help you tutor. “hi tom…” you sigh heavily as you stare at the paper beneath you, many questions, but it remained blank.

maths wasn’t your best subject, but phew! could the tom kaulitz do his algebra.

“still struggling?” he sits down on his seat next to you as he leans on the desk with his head resting arms that fold on top of it. “thank you, and yea.. i just—it doesn’t make any sense to me!”

“hey hey, no need to get frustrated,” as you slam softly on the table, somewhat shaking the coca colas in the iced glass cups. “just break it down, okay..? can you do that for me? the way i taught you.”

despite his deviance as a junior, tom does quite well on his academics. which maybe, is why he chooses to prioritize fun over school. he never really required the effort in doing well because he was just naturally born with it.

you on the hand, not so much.

and it wasn’t like this for every subject, luckily. it was just math. whatever you did and no matter the amount of effort you put into it, always ended with you failing. it’s getting tiring and overwhelming at this point.

which is why your math teacher had assigned you tom as a study buddy, a tutor. none of you really fought against this, that being that you were together.

“now y/n, i don’t know if you know mr. kaulitz but he is quite the troublemaker.. don’t want you in the wrong crowd now eh?” your math teacher asked you sternly, to which you could only nod to.

little did he know that this little troublemaker was your boyfriend.

“okay y/n, so just take it from the top.. you do this.. and then,” as tom continued to explain the strategies in solving the equations, all you could do was stare at him.

the way his lips move as he addresses the concepts, how he writes his letters and numbers, the eye contact? you swear you couldn’t focus.

“tom, i can’t do it…” you bring your head down. it upset you. he was going out of his way to help you, even though it was a punishment from the math teacher despite being his best student, you felt as you were being ungrateful and totally useless.

“schatzi, it just takes time.. i don’t expect you to automatically be good at math just from this one night.. we’re just getting started!”

and although he makes the effort to comfort you, it wasn’t helping much. you just lacked the motivation.

shifting, he leans his body toward you, leaning his head down to face yours. his eyes fluttered beneath his lashes. he puts your hands in his as he caresses them softly.

“how about this, you do a question, i’ll give you a reward,” your head perks up in curiosity, “a reward..?” “mmhm! just a small one though, for each question. how about that schatzi?” you contemplated, but anything from tom would be good! so you agreed.

finishing the equation, you place the pencil down to revise your work to ensure that everything was correct. you turn in the office chair a bit to face tom who was already paying attention to you. “all done?” “yep!”

tom’s eyes scan the paper, blinking. you bite your lips in nervousness worrying about if the hard work you’ve done was all for nothing and it ended up being wrong or incorrect, worse, none of it made sense to the point where tom couldn’t even see where you went wrong.

“good job baby!” tom places a kiss on your cheek that leaves you stunned, all you could do was look at him, eyes and mouth wide open, “your reward of course..” “do it again,” “what?” “tommmm, please?” he just giggles and pushes you away softly when you want to kiss him again.

it made you feel all bubbly and fuzzy again, you don’t know what it was.

was it tom’s scent that wafted your way for just a second that made it so addicting for you to get a sense of him close again? was it how soft and gentle his lips were on your cheek that tickled you slightly?

or was it just, tom?

“no baby! finish another question and you can get another one,” ruffling the top of your head to mess up your hair. pouting, you look down. a part of tom feels bad, so he just leans closer to you. little did he know this was all apart of your plan to place a quick peck on his lips once he was caught off guard.

he backed away so quick, face a beet red. he wasn’t the only one who was able to fluster you, “you little..!” “can’t blame me, you wouldn’t give me what i wanted!” “now you’re in for it..” tom tackles you to tickle you onto the ground.

laughter and giggles filled the room, you and tom play fought for some of the night. eventually, the two of you got tired and worked up an appetite, leaving the bedroom completely empty to go eat.

the homework was completely forgotten, but that can wait.

(you guys never got the homework done and both were scolded by the math teacher)

[happiest-hotch]

Hiii!! My request is that Aaron usually gives reader a kiss before he leaves for work, one morning he doesn’t and that’s why reader is really grumpy. She was supposed to bring him something into the bullpen and she does but Aaron notices that something’s off and then she tells him and it’s all fluffy 😁😁💞💞

It's not even 6 am when you hear banging in the kitchen, and since Aaron's not next to you, you figure he's up early for some reason.

Summer is to thank for the early morning sunshine radiating through the apartment, painting the whole open planned living room golden.

As you expected, Aaron's in the kitchen, using the coffee machine. What you didn't expect was for him to be fully dressed- looking very attractive-, which he usually wouldn't be until 7:30.

"Hey, why are you up so early?" You ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you lean against the wall.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Aaron apologizes. He pours some coffee into a travel mug. "Cruz called an early morning meeting."

You grimace, biting your bottom lip. Early morning meetings are never a good thing. "Of the bad variety?"

"I don't think so." He curbs your worry almost immediately with his secure tone. He keeps getting ready, grabbing his briefcase. "Probably just budget stuff."

"Okay, well, I'll see you in there later then." You say as he makes his way over to the side table to get his keys and wallet. He looks like he's about to leave before you say something else. "Are you forgetting something?"

He touches his hand to his forehead. "Right, breakfast. Can you-"

"Yeah." You cut him off, although it absolutely wasn't what you were hinting at. What he should have noticed was that he didn't kiss you like he does every morning.

"Thanks." He says, opening the front door. "Love you."

You sigh. "Yeah, love you too."

It dampens your morning more than it should. Disappointment gnaws at you, and you know it's irrational to let something so small bother you, but it's those little moments with Aaron that you treasure. Plus, with the nature of your jobs, you could be hours or days away from your next kiss.

The grumpiness sets in as the morning continues, and everything seems to be worse than usual from your hair to the traffic.

When you get to the BAU, he's sitting at his desk, and you make your way up to his office. He smiles when he sees you, but it slips off his face when you crudely dump a raspberry Danish on his desk.

"Good morning." You greet curtly, crossing your arms.

"Good morning," Aaron replies, confusion etching his features. "Is something wrong?"

With a sigh, you air your grievance with him. "There was no kiss this morning, Aaron. You always give me a kiss before you leave, but today you didn't."

Realization dawns on his face as he replays the morning's events in his head. He had been so worried rushing out the door that he didn't remember every part of his morning routine. "I can fix that." He promises, getting up from his desk. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I promise I didn't mean to forget."

He cups your cheeks softly and you melt into the warmth of his palms. "I know." You assure him. "But I missed it. It's one of my favorite parts of the day."

"Promise it won't happen again." He tells you, before leaning down to give you what you'd been longing for all morning. He kisses you so softly and lovingly that it's hard to feel grumpy or annoyed. "I'm very sorry. Thank you for bringing me breakfast."

"It's okay. I licked it anyway." You joke, earning a frown from him before you laugh and assure him you're not serious. "I'm kidding, but my saliva isn't that bad, is it?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I won't make you any more upset this morning, so I'm going to say no."