#but specifically I love how. he just doesn’t *get it*

[mariasont]

That anon was living under a rock because your smut fics (all of your fics tbh!) I reread wayyy to many times, lol. But if you’re taking smut requests, I’d love to see more bimbo!reader and Hotch! I can’t get enough.

I’ll take anything!! But more specifically, their first time, all of that built up tension (that you write so perfectly!) finally breaks!

Anyways, I never send in requests but I saw a window of opportunity and had to take it, haha.

Third Date Rule - A.H

summary: the third date proves to be worth the wait when you and hotch experience your first time together. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexy time, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, they did not in fact wrap it before tapping it and it's not really discussed so yeah idk about that one, aftercare wc: 7.7k

This was so overdue.

Technically, it's only been three dates. Technically.

But if you count all the years you'd known him, the months spent daydreaming about this moment, the weeks of waiting while he played the world's longest game of restraint, then really, you should have had him naked ages ago.

And if Aaron (which still feels like a thrill to say — Aaron — because you're dating now and you can freely call him that) wasn't so stubborn and noble and insufferably gentlemanly, you would have.

But tonight was finally the night. The third date. The sacred, hallowed, much-debated, universally accepted gateway to getting into the sheets. And yes, okay, maybe you barely survived the wait without jumping his bones, but that's hardly relevant now. The point is, you did it.

And now you're in his lap, his tie wound tight around your fingers, his tongue deep in your mouth, and gods, if this night didn't end with him inside you, you might actually die. 

Like, literally. Heart failure. Sudden death.

This was premeditated. At least, for you. You moisturized like your life depended on it, doused yourself in perfume that could be classified as a controlled substance, and selected a bra that made your tits look so insane, it might actually be illegal in some states.

And then you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking the perfect dress that says oh, I'm classy, but also please take me home and rip this off with your teeth.

You pull away, just enough to see him. To take in the slow bloom of pink trailing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way his pupils are so wide they’ve all but erased the brown of his eyes. And his lips — swollen and red from kissing you — part like he was debating how bad it would be to drag you right back in. You wouldn’t mind.

“Aaron,” you sigh, fingers burying into his hair, marveling at how absurdly soft it is, how freely he lets you have this piece of him. “We should go to bed.”

For a second, he locks up. Not hesitation but calibration, a body processing desire so sharp it might break him. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the quiet exhale through his nose.

"This wasn't my plan for the night," he murmurs, voice softer now, not strained, but steeped in something much gentler. Something careful. "I wasn't —," He shakes his head, like the whole concept doesn’t sit right in his mouth. "I don't want you to think this is just —,"

"Sex?"

You can see the way he wants to argue, like he wants to carve the word out of the air and replace it with something that means more.

"Yes."

You can’t stop the stupid, lovestruck smile pulling at your lips. Maybe it��s the wine from dinner finally working its magic. (It’s not.) Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, all serious and earnest, like you’re the only thing in existence, and if he blinks, you might vanish. (It definitely is.)

A laugh bubbles up, light and giddy, body not knowing what to do with all this adoration. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just to see if he’ll let you. (He does.)

“Are you serious? If you just wanted sex, you wouldn’t have spent actual years pretending my very dedicated, very expertly executed attempts to seduce you weren’t happening.”

His brow arches, but you see it for what it is — a stall. “Expertly, huh?”

"Remember that heatwave last summer? When I just had to eat a popsicle at my desk every afternoon?"

His eyes darken like the memory is playing in high definition behind his eyes.

"I remember."

"Do you?" Your fingers slip beneath his color. “Because —” You tilt your head. “I always seemed to finish them standing in front of your office —"

You don't even get to finish your sentence. 

One second, you’re speaking, the next, you’re airborne. Lifted clean off the couch, legs locking around his waist automatically, arms thrown around his shoulders like you planned this all along.

You didn’t, but you wish you had. 

Not that it matters, because he’s already moving, already walking straight to the bedroom.

You bury your smile against his jaw, letting your breath tickle against the shell of his ear as another giggle slips out. It couldn’t be helped.

"I really hope you know," you whisper, “that I am, like, stupidly excited for this. Like, counting down the days excited.”

Aaron sets you down on the mattress gently, but his body doesn’t follow right away, hovering over you.

"You're not making this easy for me."

You ignore him because you’re much more distracted by how insanely soft his sheets are. That was your first thought when your back hits the mattress, hair fanning across the pillows.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’ll catch the scent of your perfume tomorrow. If he’ll notice the ghost of you when he lays down alone.

Your second was that this is so not the time nor place to get emotional. 

But this is his space. His bed. His room.

It’s tidy, but somehow not sterile, everything having its place, but not afraid to be used. A book sits on the nightstand, a book mark sticking out mid-thought. A photo frame faces the bed, though from this angle you struggle to see what’s inside.

There’s his suit jacket from yesterday, draped over the back of a chair, a little rumpled. 

And maybe it's silly, but you feel weirdly honored to be here.

You should probably be processing this moment, what it means to be here, with him, like this. Instead, you take a second to admire the view.

The lamp softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost gentle — which is funny, considering how you hoped to be thoroughly destroyed by him.

Something expands inside you, stretching against the walls of your chest, something too big, something that terrifies you.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I can’t believe I’m about to sleep with my boss.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, his forehead dropping into the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart—,”

"What?" You giggle, letting your fingers slide through his hair, letting your nails rake lightly over his scalp. "It's true."

His sigh is nothing short of pained, but then he kisses your cheek anyway, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You were starting to feel like each was a thinly veiled attempt to tame you.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

"Yes, Mr. Hotchner." 

Every self-satisfied thought evaporates the moment he kisses you – really kisses you.

It’s not just a meeting of lips but a focused intensity, tongue sweeping inside your mouth and suddenly nothing before this mattered, because clearly, clearly, every kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this one. 

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, spine arching and he doesn’t stop you, just kisses you with a hunger that makes teasing obsolete, that makes breathing secondary to the way he’s taking from you, giving to you, all at once.

His lips wander, dragging across your jaw like he’s leaving invisible ink behind, pressing something permanent into your skin.

You hope you’ll wake up tomorrow and still feel him there.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, drawn by craving, by the need circling inside you like a ribbon of fire.

It stretches outward, licking at your skin, threading through your veins. His hands hold you still, spanning over your rib. His breath fans over your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.

You should be gloating right now. This is, after all, exactly what you wanted, what you worked for. A biting remark sits on the top of your tongue, but then his mouth moves, and he finds it.

That wicked, traitorous little dip beneath your jaw that turns your entire brain into pink, glittering static. He pauses, listening, feeling, before sealing his mouth over it again, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin like he’s testing a theory that he already knows the answer to.

Your fingers clench in his hair, a startled sound choking in your throat before you can stop it. And then, the bastard laughs. Not sweet, not kind, but low and sharp and smug because he knows exactly what he’s done. 

You had the upper hand. Past tense.

"There it is," he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, his tongue flattening over it just to make you squirm. "You want to know how I figured this out?"

You hum, or try to. But it’s pathetic because you’re barely conscious, every cell fried to uselessness by his mouth.

He mimics you, just to be an ass about it, mocking the dazed little sound like he hasn’t just reduced you to it. "You always reached for it when I looked at you too long."

Your mouth opens. Closes.

"Or," he continues, "when I stood too close to you at the coffee machine. You'd fidget, tuck your hair behind your ear like you weren't thinking about it." His exhale burns against your pulse. "Cute."

You gasp, a little offended, mostly turned on. "Oh, wow. Profiling me? At work? That's, like, wildly unethical."

"Didn't need to," he murmurs. "You were practically begging me to figure you out."

His mouth is perfect in the way lightning is perfect – striking, searing, and completely out of your control. It’s perfect enough that you can pretend not to hear him.

He sucks, slow and hard enough to tear a sound from your lips before you even know it’s there, something that feels like vulnerability in its purest form. Something you would never willingly give him.

His laugh is quiet, wrecking, as he pulls back, lips slick with your skin. "That good?"

His mouth makes quick work, over your collarbone, down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, down, branding every inch of skin he can reach. 

He stops at the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, you can't think about anything except how it's still on.

You want to strip it off, want to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice, but you’re well aware that if you try, if you even reach, he’ll stop you. Or worse, he'll make you wait. He'll slow you down, draw it out just to watch you squirm because patience is his weapon of choice, because he lives for making you suffer.

His teeth graze the swell of your breast, just enough to sting, and whatever fragile grip you had on yourself disintegrates on impact. Your hands fumble blindly for his face, fingers shaking, needing to see his eyes.

"Please, Aaron.” It’s an exhale, a prayer. “Need you."

You see the ripple of tension along his throat. And for one tiny, blinding second you think this is when he finally snaps, abandons his tolerance and just takes you.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he rumbles. "I'm going to take my time."

You whine, frustration bleeding from your fingertips where they clutch his shoulders, fingers digging in like you can physically push him into moving faster.

He does not move faster. 

His hands slide up to the straps of your dress, as he drags it down with all the urgency of a leisurely Sunday stroll. 

Your mind is halfway through an exceptionally justified complaint about how slow he is moving when he folds the dress.

Folds it.

Sets it aside. Doesn't toss it.

And that may be the hottest thing he's ever done.

Because you know he knows. He’s always known. Known that your things aren’t just things — that your dresses, your heels, your overpriced lip glosses aren’t frivolous, aren’t some shallow indulgence, but tiny, curated pieces of you.

He has listened to you decide between two pairs of shoes that are, for all intent and purposes, identical. He knows jasmine is mysterious and vanilla is flirty, knows that you’ll debate your right to own the same three shades of pink. 

And instead of dismissing it, instead of rolling his eyes (though he does that too), he folds your dress. As if it matters.

You stare at him, somewhere between melting and spontaneous combustion, and he simply raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

"No." You shake your head for emphasis, voice a little too weak to get the point across. "Just thinking I might have to marry you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers tracing over the pink lace like he’s trying to process it, like if he touches it enough times, it’ll confirm that this is actually happening and not some cruel illusion. His thumb brushes the scalloped edge, breathing shallow. You were pretty sure he’s currently having a full-scale existential meltdown over lingerie.

"Agreed," he murmurs, distracted, hooded eyes still glued to your chest. "I think the courthouse opens at eight."

Your giggle stutters, hiccups right out of you, because his hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming with no clear plan, just a man in crisis over how much of you he wants to touch first. His palms skate over your stomach, down your thighs, up over your breasts.

"So, this is all I had to do to convince you to do what I want?"

His mouth follows, retracting the path of his hands, rewriting, reworking, perfecting – because apparently, the first time wasn’t good enough, wasn’t thorough enough. 

"You think this is what did it for me?" His voice is hushed. "You could've walked into my office six months ago and told me to get on one knee.” A kiss, open-mouthed, starving, just below your navel. “I would've done it."

Six months ago. You don't know if you believed that.

Except now you're spiraling, backtracking, rewinding, piecing together little details like some lovesick conspiracy theorist with red string and a bulletin board. Every interaction, every loaded glance, every time he let you get away with high-level flirtation without so much as a blink. You thought you were testing him, but what if he was never fighting at all?

And before you can even recover from that, before you can file an official grievance about why no one told you sooner, his hands squeeze at your thighs, his mouth so close to exactly where you need him, and his voice —

"You're so beautiful."

His nose presses into the damp center of your panties, and your hands fly to his hair so fast it’s practically reflex, breath stalling in your chest like your body forgot how to function for a second. 

This is everything. What you've wanted, dreamed of, written in the margins of notebooks (hypothetically, of course).

It should be perfect, but suddenly, it isn't.

Uncertainty slips between the cracks, heat turning into something less solid. You don’t have time to find it, to name it, because he’s already there, already sensing it, already fixing it before you even know what’s wrong.

"Hey." His voice hooks into you, gently reeling you back from wherever your brain was about to go. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"No, I—," The words come out far too fast and desperate, and you can't decipher why it's so hard to say. "I do want to. Obviously." The nervous laugh that follows is definitely not your usual flirty confidence. "Have you met yourself? Because if you haven't, I would love to introduce you. Tall, devastatingly handsome — you'd love him."

His move curves, but his eyes stay patient and focused, giving you a second to breathe.

"It's just..." Another pause, another frustrated sigh. "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

"That's okay, we can take it slow." He moves so that he's hovering above you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his smile just amused enough to leave you flustered. "How long?"

"May."

"May?"

"Yeah, like, May. Three years ago."

Aaron just stares at you, processing. You can see the gears turning, the little mental loading wheel spinning, his expression caught between stunned and deeply interested.

His fingers creep up, sliding under your ribs, just close enough to the heavy swell of your tits to remind you exactly where you are. What he was doing to you before you so rudely derailed this into actual conversation.

"Really?"

You pinch his arm. "Hey! That is not an absurd amount of time."

"No. I know. I didn’t say that," he says quickly. "I'm just... surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His lips part and he immediately shakes his head, exhaling like he's physically trying to dispel what just ran through your mind, knowing exactly where your thoughts were.

"I just mean — I don't know how every man you meet doesn't immediately worship the ground you walk on."

"Oh, well, they do." You smile. "But I was only ever planning on letting one of them take me to bed."

You reach for his dress shirt buttons, tugging insistently, but your hands refuse to cooperate, not properly communicating with your brain.

It's his fault, you decide.

He looks too good, and it was extremely hard to focus on anything but that.

You have no idea how you survived dinner. Or the car ride home. Or even the eternity it took to get past the door, because that was definitely a struggle considering your mouth was all over his, tasting the whiskey he’d barely touched, before he could even get the key in the lock.

You spent all night picturing this, the way his hands would feel in you, the way his mouth would taste, the way his suit would look crumpled on the floor.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant you were a pretty terrible dinner guest. Nodding, smiling, pretending to listen, all while barely holding back the need to ride him in public.

Aaron laughs, clearly entertained by your struggle, and then, because he’s nothing if not arrogant, he starts undoing the buttons one-handed, to be a show-off.

It’s rude, really. Because now all you can do is watch, helpless as he peels himself open to reveal golden skin, dark hair dusting over firm pecs, trailing lower, disappearing beneath his belt. 

Your manicured fingers glide over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pushing his shirt away like uncovering some lost Renaissance painting that scholars would kill to get their hands on — something that should be in a temperature-controlled glass case, not just here, sprawled above you like he belongs to you. Which, he does, because he’s just letting you do this, letting you look. And you look. He is art. No, better than art. Art is stationary, lifeless, some brushstroke interpretation of what beauty should be. But this, him, he is warmth and breath and muscle.

Museums wish they had something this valuable. They’d burn down in despair if they knew he existed just for you.

"May," he muses, letting the word roll off his tongue, turning it over in his mind. "That's an oddly specific answer."

You make a vague sound of agreement, mostly just to acknowledge that yes, technically, he did say words, but you’re too busy to actually care. Too busy with spreading your hands over the planes of his chest, with grabbing at his belt.

"You were hired in May three years ago."

Your hands freeze. 

"That's... um weird." A slow blink. "Weird that you know that. Weirder that you noticed."

You work his belt loose, tugging it free. It’s meant to be a distraction, a well-placed touch to shift his focus from his revelation.

But then your plan backfires spectacularly because he’s hard, thick, unreasonably big and suddenly your fingers feel useless.

Aaron makes a sound — half a hiss, half a laugh — and his hands snap to your wrist, catching you before you can explore further, like he knew you were going to do that. "It’s okay, honey."

"I—I don't—," You blink up at him, floundering, desperately trying to sound casual. "That's, uh, I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Aaron’s smirk deepens, his grip on you slackening just enough to trick you into thinking he’s going to be nice.

But then his other hand moves, slipping between your bodies, sliding beneath the heat trapped between your thighs, finding the neediest part of you, and pressing.

Your whole body jerks, a startled gasp catching in your throat as sensation flares — hot, sharp, mercilessly good.

His fingers start to move, rubbing tight circles against you. Your hands cling, one locked onto his bare shoulders, the other pressing against his dick, desperate to make him feel even a fraction of what he's doing to you.

It earns you a groan, low and gritty, hips twitching against your palm, his breath is hot against your lips, his mouth hovering just barely out of reach.

"I won't tease," he promises, but the way he bites at your bottom lip feels like a lie. His tongue is quick to follow, flicking over the welt he’s just left, soothing the burn before sealing it with a kiss, just this side of messy. “Three years… that’s a long time.” His lips skim yours again. “For both of us.”

A pleased sound bubbles up from your throat, slipping between his lips, that makes it obnoxiously clear just how much you love those words. That is a sentence you’d like embroidered on a pillow. Maybe cross-stitched into a nice, elegant frame for your future shared bedroom. 

"Oh," you sigh, a smile stretching against his lips. "I really, really, like knowing that. That's, like, incredible news."

Your brows scrunch, and you pull back just an inch. 

"Just to be clear, though, you do mean in a wow, you've ruined me for other women way, and not in a I've been to busy for a sex life way, right? Because those are two different things, and I need to know which one we're working with here—"

Aaron huffs a laugh and instead of answering with words, his hands slip into your panties, fingers finding your clit without prelude. Skin to skin now, no fabric, no flimsy barrier. Just touch.

His fingers dip lower, dragging through the slick, indecent in how easily he moves through the mess of you. He makes a noise — nearly a groan, mostly a hum of appreciation, of possession — before he spreads it, smearing your own arousal over your clit, rolling circles.

"Oh, wow, sweetheart."

Your thighs fall open like you have no say in it — because you don’t, because every instinct in you is reaching for him, needing it like a fix.

And maybe, maybe that should be embarrassing — the obvious, shameless way you seek him out — but it’s a gorgeous kind of humiliation, a flush that spreads lower.

"Well," you gasp, chest rising in stuttering little pants. "Y—you kept me waiting forever."

Aaron hushes you with a soft tsk, his fingers pressing, stroking, coaxing you into sweet, mindless submission. Every movement feels preordained, like he already knows your body, like he’s a man who’s spent years thinking about this.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothes, murmuring it against the fragile skin beneath your ear, punctuating it with a kiss. "But I think I'm making up for lost time pretty well."

"I guess," you manage. "Th—that's acceptable."

Aaron chuckles, the vibration traveling straight into your skin. His lips descend, an idolization thing, but it’s the kind of devotion that sets you on fire.

His hands spread over your thighs, parting them gently.

Your underwear drags down, slipping over your thighs, grazing the curve of your knees, and then off. And suddenly, there's nothing separating you from his eyes, from the way the air licks over you, cool against the sticky heat between your thighs.

His lips part like he wasn't expecting to fall apart so easily. Like he thought he'd have more time, more control. And the power in it, the sheer, intoxicating power of knowing he's just as affected as you are, that this is breaking him open, makes your skin fizz, burn, ache for him even more.

If someone had told you a year ago that Aaron Hotchner, mister all-business-all-the-time, would be between your legs, staring at you like he's never seen anything more perfect, you would have said something nonsensical. Something about fate. Or destiny.

And you would have been right. Because you always knew this was a definite.

"Oh, honey.... You're gorgeous," It's almost a whisper, like the words were dragged out of him against his will, stolen straight from his lungs the second his eyes landed on you. His gaze drinks you in, head tilting, lips parting, tongue skating over the swell of his bottom lip. “I knew you would be, but��”

A sharp, sizzling spark races up your spine, white-hot and unbearable, but when it should tip over into relief, it withers into frustration. The kind that makes your body revolt against the absence of touch. Your hips buck, thighs squeezing as if you can somehow force the friction you’re being deprived of.

"Give me a second, baby," he teases, caressing his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Just wanna look at you."

His mouth moves in decadent passes, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your inner thigh.

Another kiss. Then another. So close.

Then he detours. Veers off, pressing his lips into the dip of your hip instead, dragging his tongue along something that is not your clit.

"So perfect."

His fingers prod through your folds, parting you, fingertips wading through the slickness pooling at your entrance. The sound that spills from him is sinful.

All of your muscles coiling tight, every inch of you scorching with unmet need and just when you think you're going to have to beg him, just when the words start to form —

He gives in. 

His tongue is there first, dragging a flat, broad stripe through your center, licking over every hypersensitive inch of you before looking up at you through hooded eyes. You swear you nearly come from the sight alone.

"Knew you'd be sweet."

Aaron doesn't waste another second, burying himself in you, mouth moving like he's been ravenous for this. 

His grip is firm as he spreads you wider, keeping you at his mercy. His lips wrap around your clit for a split second before he moves again, tasing, licking, humming, lapping up everything you're giving him.

It's messy. Wet. Dripping. His mouth moves as he tries to wreck himself on you. Each second convincing you that he wouldn’t mind suffocating here if it meant another taste.

His nose nudges against you, the angle so cruelly perfect it sends another violent tremor through your body, legs jumping against his shoulders. Your fingers grasp blindly for purchase, gripping the sheets, tangling in his hair, at anything you can reach. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs into you, words muffled by your pussy. "Let me hear you."

"Oh — " The sound falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block out the overwhelming pleasure if you just try hard enough.  "Oh, that's — "

Your hips stutter, thighs tightening around his face.

Aaron chuckles darkly, and you feel it more than you hear it, the sound pulsing through your core.

You’re not sure you have a body anymore, not sure you exist outside of this moment. You’re just sensation, just trembling atoms held together only by his hands, his breath, his voice. There’s no past or future – just now, just him.

If this is what it means to transcend, to be unraveled and rewritten in the same breath, then let it consume you whole. You could die like this, and it would be the kindest death you could ever ask for.

A single finger ghosts over your entrance, teasing but never quite committing. He dips in, just the barest of intrusion, and you shudder, clenching around nothing because it’s gone just as fast. 

He waits, just long enough to hear the next breathy fussing before finally spearing back in. Your eyes flutter shut, breath breaking apart in little puffs.

The sounds coming from your cunt should embarrass you, sticky, so shockingly loud that if your brain was working, you’d be mortified. But it’s not working. Not even a little. 

His hand flattens over your stomach and suddenly the pressure doubles, triples.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, oh my gods, Aaron, I—"

Your normal senses have left the building. Packed its bags, hit the road, abandoned you to whatever dark magic this is. Because this —this isn’t how your body works. This isn’t how guys work. You don’t come from this. 

But here you are, hurtling toward it at full speed and all because he decided you would.

It’s happening too fast, the pressure stacking. Your thighs shake open, stomach clenching so hard it aches. Your mind is lagging behind, still reeling, still trying to rationalize but it doesn’t matter because your body has already made its choice, has already given in, has already decided this is happening, whether you’re ready for it or not.

"Aaron, I think—,"

Aaron just groans, finishing your sentence for you, lapping up your confession with his tongue,

"I know, baby." Hot air blows against your swollen clit. "Let me feel it."

It crashes over you, back bowing off the bed. Your body splinters apart, thighs trembling so hard you couldn’t stop them if you tried. The edges of your vision smear into nothing as the pleasure consumes everything in its path. 

His mouth stays on you, tongue and fingers pushing you through the aftershocks until you’re clawing at the sheets, until that pleasure tilts so far into oversensitivity that makes you unaware if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.

Your limbs feel like liquid, consolidating into every inch of your body, melting into the mattress as Aaron moves to be face to face with you.

He's looking at you like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet, and maybe he is, because when his lips get close enough, you tug him the rest of the way down, crashing your mouth into his in a way that's all sloppy desperation.

You can taste yourself on him, can feel the way he groans into it when you sigh against his mouth, all soft and dreamy and drunk on gratification. 

When you pull back, your fingers card through his hair, fixing nothing but feeling everything.

"Oh my gosh," you gasp, dissolving into giggles, toes curling as you flop back against the pillows. "I knew you'd be good at that, obviously, but I wasn't expecting all that. Like wow, you should get a certificate of excellence or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically, "Or like, a trophy, a raise, a sash that says best head giver in gold letters—," You pause for a breath, sucking in air like you just realized how winded you are.

"— and I mean, I've never come like that before. So. You should probably put that on your résumé."

When Aaron presses against you, you feel every inch of him. Thick and unfortunately still restrained. His slacks are a cruel barrier, the rough drag of the fabric catching your clit in a way that rips a whimper straight from your throat.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, then he's mouthing at your neck, sucking, teasing, marking you.

"Firstly," he murmurs. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you."

An involuntary shiver rolls through you.

"And secondly," he continues, "the fact that they didn't even know how."

Your hands are frantic as they fly to his waistband, fumbling a bit, the last hindrance between you offensive in its existence. 

"Well, yeah," you sigh, looking up at him through fluttering lashes, glossy lips parted just for him. "I mean, you're literally the only one who's ever known what to do with me. That has to mean something, right? Like, cosmic destiny or whatever."

Aaron shoves his pants and briefs off, barely sparing them a second thought, and then he's back, fitted between your thighs.

"You already know the answer to that." His lips brush your temple. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you. And I plan on proving it."

"Yeah, okay," you say, squirming beneath him. "Not gonna argue when that sounds like the best idea ever."

You've seen a lot of versions of Aaron. You've seen work Aaron, serious and bossy, looking at crime scenes like he can hear the evidence whispering just to him. You've seen grumpy Aaron, glaring over his coffee when you talk too much at morning briefings (but you know he likes it, he just won't say). You've seen soft Aaron, the one who lets you steal his jacket even though you definitely don't need it.

But you've never seen this Aaron. This post-kissing-you Aaron. Lips slick, still damp with you, evidence of where he’s been, what he’s done.

His eyes flick to yours, and there’s no shame, no rush to wipe it away. If anything, he tilts his head, letting you see it from a better angle.

"You're so handsome, Aaron." Your voice trembles. You don't even know if you said it out loud or just thought it so hard he must have heard it anyway.

"And you,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your cheek, “are so damn sweet, honey."

You beam at that, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy that your thoughts are practically spilling out faster than you can catch them.

"Okay so I just need to say — this is so exciting, like, you do realize I've had a crush on you for years, right? And now this is actually happening, and that's just — wow."

You suck in a sharp breath, nails dragging over the thick muscles of his arms, across his shoulders.

"I mean, it's us, Aaron. Can you believe that? Like, I feel like this has been building for so long and now I'm just — gods, you're so hot, this is actually distracting me. I can't even finish my own thought —,"

You laugh, because you already feel so full of him and he isn't even inside you yet.

"And I know you're being all careful and slow because you're sweet and romantic and, like, the most perfect man alive, but also —,"

You grind up, chasing friction, his cock sliding just right over your clit. Your breath stutters, hands fisting at the nape of his neck as you try to remember what you were saying.

" — I'm literally at your mercy right now, so you should probably take advantage of that before I —,"

"You talk so much, baby."

And then he shuts you up. Hard.

His mouth rams into yours, ingesting the comment, the breath, everything.

He doesn't rush. 

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance before he finally, slowly, pushes inside.

It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts against his, lips catching on his as a little sigh slips out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, helpless against the way he's opening you up. 

He stills, a sharp, fractured inhale slicing through the air, fingers digging into your hips — hard. He is struggling. You can feel it. The way his cock twitches inside you, like his body is screaming at him to move.

"I-I'm good." Your laugh wobbles, catches at the edges, barely disguising how badly you want him to believe you. "You can keep going."

"You're tensing because it's been a while." You don't mean to, but your body reacts before your brain can tell it not to, stiffening. Stupid, stupid. His exhale is shaky, and his lips press against your cheek. "I know that. I expected that."

You swallow, but it doesn't help.

"I also know that you think if I notice, I'll stop." His forehead rests against yours. "But I need you to hear me, baby. I'm not stopping."

His lips graze yours.

"I'm going to work you through this. Just let me in, princess."

And the second you do, the second you finally give in —

He groans, pushing deeper, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt. 

"There we go," he breathes, wrecked with praise. His hand presses to your lower belly, feeling how deep he is, how well you take him. "That's my good girl."

Your head tilts back, lips parting, body doing the melty thing that feels really, really nice but also really, really dangerous because you swear you're seconds away from levitating straight out of your own skin.

"Okay, so I did think this would feel good —," Your fingers twitch against his chest, nails raking lightly over sweat-damp skin as another sharp moan tumbles free. "— but, um, wow, this is like — this is so —,"

Your words taper off, get lost somewhere between your psyche and your mouth, because oh. Oh, wow. He's so deep, so heavy inside you, pressing into places you didn't even know existed.

"Go on, baby," he murmurs, a smirk plastered across handsome features as he dips his head. "You were saying?"

"You know," you gasp, words all flimsy and loose, like they've been shaken up inside you, "I kinda always wondered how big you were —"

Your breath hooks halfway through, hiccups on a moan, brain scrambling to keep up with your mouth, your mouth scrambling to keep up with — him.

"Not that I, um — I stared at your pants or anything —" Another sharp inhale, another desperate moan, your walls fluctuating and squeezing around something too thick. "I mean, I try not to because I'm a professional —"

An involuntary clench makes him curse, makes his fingers dip into your hips, makes his head plunge forward hard against your shoulder.

"Honey, shit—,"

Your lashes flutter. "What?"

"Sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that while you ramble about my cock, I'm not going to last."

Your mouth clicks shut promptly.

"That's what I thought."

Hotch rocks his hips, just once, a sharp gasp fissuring from your lips like you weren't expecting it. 

"Jesus, sweetheart. You're trembling." He cups your cheek, his thumb skimming over your bottom lip, eyes dark and aflame. "Does it feel that good?"

You nod, and he hums, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in. 

His hand drags down your waist, spans over your belly, fingers pressing like he's charting the way he fits inside you.

"I used to tell myself I wouldn't do this," he admits. "That I wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't ruin you like this."

Your head lolls back, eyes fluttering, lips parted prettily, gasping as he rocks into you again, and again, and again. You shake your head, or at least, you think you do.

"You don't —" You try to shape words, but they liquefy on your tongue. "Don't ruin me, Aaron, you — oh, you make me —"

Hotch's throat bobs, his pupils blown.

"You make me so, so good, so soft, so perfect."

His hand cups your jaw. "You're already all of those things, sweetheart."

"Not before you," you sigh. "I've been waiting so long, Aaron, so, so long —"

"I know, baby," he groans. "I know."

His hand veers between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen, neglected bundle of nerves.

“Aaron — oh, wait, wait, wait —,” Your hands shoot up to his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I can, but it’s just —,”

His cock throbs inside you, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, harder this time, his fingers matching the pace.

“Too much?”

“Yes, no, kind of? I don’t know, I can’t—,” You choke on your own breath as another thrust knocks every last rumination from your head. “I can’t think.”

“Good.” His forehead presses against yours, his lips parting against your mouth, panting, his control slipping. “I don’t want you thinking. Just feel me, sweetheart. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

Your body is shaking, shaking so hard that you don’t even know if you’re moving or if he’s just pushing you through it. 

“I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, body twitching. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises, groaning as he grinds into you, stretching it. “One more, honey. You can give me one more.”

It hits you slowly, unwinding through your organs like smelted honey.

“Oh, oh —,” Your breath falters, mind going blank, the pleasure overwhelming every nerve in your body until you can’t do anything but let it consume you.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling you clench around him so tight it nearly undoes him.

You barely register the way you’re gasping, twitching, babbling out breathless little moans, vision blurring, and for a second you think you might black out.

“That’s it, princess,” he rasps, fucking you through it the reverberations. “So, so good for me.”

His pace turns shallow, sharp, chasing the tight, perfect squeezing of you still thrashing around him.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he grits, hands bruising your hips, your breath still catching from your own orgasm.

You’re too gone to respond, too wrung out to do anything but whimper as he takes you, using your body to pull himself over the edge.

He groans, low and deep, his fingers tangling in your hair, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he finally breaks.

A shudder, a muttered curse, his body jerking, hips slamming into yours as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t mean to collapse, you know that, because even as his body gives out, his arms brace, still trying to be careful, even now. You want to cling to him, lock your legs around his waist, but you barely remember how to move, so you just let out a sleepy sound, nuzzling blindly at his throat. 

He murmurs something low, something that sounds like praise, maybe worship.

His lips press to the side of your face, half-gone and still recovering, and then his muscles tense, trying to lift himself off you.

Your arms wind around his neck before he can get too far. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “Feels nice.”

“You did so good.”

When he finally pulls out, you feel the loss and everything that comes with it, his release sticky and warm beneath your thighs. 

Aaron disappears into the bathroom, and you barely have time to miss him before he’s back with a warm cloth in hand.

You giggle, squirming before he even touches you, already restless, and the second he presses the cloth to your inner thighs, you jerk, laughing helplessly.

“Oh, wait —,”

Aaron sighs, one hand pressing against your hip to keep you still. “Sweetheart. You have to let me clean you up”

“But it tickles—,”

He smirks and continues his work. “How do you feel?”

“Like I saw god actually,” you ramble, kicking your feet against the sheets. “Or, like, like, if I had to describe it, I’d say I transcended reality for a little bit —,”

Aaron just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee as he finishes cleaning you up. Each swipe reminds you that your legs might not be on speaking terms with you tomorrow.

When he’s done his mouth finds yours again. It’s easy to kiss him. If it were physically possible to stay attached to him, twenty-four hours a day, you’d gladly test the theory.

“Worth the wait,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Well, yeah,” you murmur, smirking up at him. “I figured it would be for you.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, baby, you were good,” he mutters, kissing right over your stuttering pulse. “You were so good.” Another kiss. “So good I’m already thinking about the next time.”

Your heart hasn’t even slowed down, and you’re already thinking about the next time. Already plotting, already ready to drag him back down and see just how quickly that next time could turn into right now. But before you can so much as tug at him — Aaron is rolling out of bed, pulling on his pants, disappearing into the kitchen.

You mean to protest, to demand why he left you alone in a post-bliss haze, but then he’s back, pressing a glass of water into your hand, watching you drink it like it’s his personal responsibility.

Then comes food, something light and something he feeds you between kisses, between lazy murmurs about nothing. 

At some point, the blankets are back over you, his lips pressing against your forehead, his voice saying something about getting some sleep before you got any ideas, before pulling you against him.

You hum, content and drowsy, shifting a little, rolling over to get more comfortable —

And then your eyes land on that photo frame from earlier. You had a clear view of it now.

It was you.

It takes you a second to place it, but once you do, you almost laugh. You know this photo — because Garcia took it. She printed it out months ago, probably as some ridiculous gag, and stuck it to Aaron’s office wall with a bright sticky note that read your favorite obviously. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, called it workplace favoritism, but he’d never taken it down. 

And now, somehow, it’s framed. On his nightstand, like he’s been looking at you every night for —

You don’t finish the thought.

Instead, you just smile, huge and uncontrollable.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you don’t need him to.

Because you already know.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[tbaluver]

S/O With ADHD- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader requested: by a couple anonnies ♥︎ a/n: hihi my lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i just want to mention a disclaimer about this. while i do have adhd, everybody experiences things differently so what might be common for me, can be completely different to another person! these symptoms presented here are only what i’ve experienced and what my friends have experienced and what people have requested! do not refer to this to diagnose yourself. if you suspect you might have adhd, please refer to a professional! there will be a part two to this because theres more to add but anyways enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He didn’t fully grasp the idea when you tried to explain your adhd to him, your thoughts would jump from one thing to another and he tried to keep up. He would do his own research to understand better what you were going through. He would notice the little things, the way you would say you 're going to do something but never actually start or how tasks seem to take you forever to finish.

No worries about being late or rushing to go on dates or hangouts with him, there’s no set start time. Often times the dates and hangouts are flexible. He’ll wait until you’re ready as long as he gets to spend time with you and eat yummy food together, he’s happy

Indulges and learns your hyper fixations and your current obsessions. He’ll learn more about them on his own time so he can talk more about them with you

If you’re okay with it, he’ll join you whenever you need to rest and watch your comfort shows whenever you’re feeling drained or overstimulated. He’ll make the atmosphere in the room feel more cozy either by giving you space, adjusting the lighting and closing the curtains, tucking you in your blankets, so you can recharge

Praises your smallest victories even if it was just cleaning your room or finishing a simple task in under an hour without thinking or worrying about it. He knows that even the simplest tasks can feel overwhelming so when you manage to do something without thinking or bed rotting before doing something, he’s genuinely proud of you.

Zayne:

He would truly listen when you go off on a tangent of your hyperfixations, letting you ramble about them without interrupting you. Even if you branch off too many topics that you swear relates to the main topic, eventually forgetting what the point was, he patiently brings you back to the main point.

“..wait what was I talking about?”

“you were talking about how ___ and __”

He’s very organized, constantly tidying and rearranging things for you without needing to be asked. He doesn’t mind it at all. He organizes in a way that he knows would help you but if you ever forget where something is, he’s quick to help you. lost your keys? by the dining room table. your jacket? in the laundry basket. your phone? you’re holding it

Tries to keep his explanations short and easier to understand. He’ll give you just enough without getting lost in any unnecessary details

When he’s not around, he helps you by texting you on specific times to check up on you or to help shift your focus

Separate calm activities alone but together with him. You could be doing your own thing while he reads his book(s) or finishes up any medical reports

Calculates how long it usually takes you to get ready, so he’ll plan dates with reservation an hour or two ahead of time, sometimes maybe even more depending on the date, just to avoid overwhelming you. He’s always patient and understanding, sometimes he’ll help you get ready to take the weight off your shoulders

Rafayel:

In the beginning, he’ll notice you can run late to things but once you explain that it’s because of your adhd, he’ll be more understanding. Still, he can’t help but tease you just a little but he means well. He’ll just plan more hangouts that don’t require any set start time, just as long as you two are together at the end

Yap sessions with him take up an ungodly amount of hours. You both branch off to different topics, each one you both swear is just as important as the last, so the conversation goes in different directions. It takes forever to circle back to the original point.

He loves hearing about your hyper fixations. You can tell him everything, every little fact and he’ll ask you a million questions, indulging in your passion for it as well.

Loves to spend time with you but he is mindful and lets you have the space to unwind whenever you might feel overstimulated or just need to recharge

Shows so much encouragement whenever you show your creative and passionate side. He’ll recognize and appreciate the things you’re good at, even if you’re not able to see it in yourself

It’s canon that he sends you separate messages instead of big blocks of texts but its not because that’s how he feels more comfortable texting but also because he knows that long paragraphs can feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want you to miss anything or feel pressured to read through a lot at once

Sylus:

Lets you hold his hand whenever you want, no need to ask. He knows how much you fidget and he loves how you rub circles on the back of his hand, melting under your touch. If it helps you feel better, then go ahead. He’d even buy you rings to fidget with, ones that maybe match and also just so you can have something to twist and twirl when he’s not around

He adores listening to your obsessions and your hyper fixations, letting you ramble your latest interests or the new trinkets you’ve added to your collection. He’ll even surprise you with little trinkets he remembers from past conversations, knowing they would make you smile

Enjoys spending time with you even if you were focused on your own thing, whether it was hobby related or just unwinding in your own way while he’s also doing his own thing.

When you need help focusing and he’s not around, he’ll reach out at a certain time to check in and help refocus your attention

Doesn’t really send you paragraph lengths of text messages but sends you shorter messages so it doesn’t feel as overwhelming. He’ll mostly send voice messages that are short and the right length so it doesn’t let your mind drift away

Online shopping with him can help so you can control yourself from impulse buying so many things. He doesn’t mind you buying the entire world with his card but sometimes he has to stop you from buying things you absolutely don’t need

Caleb:

It’s easy for tasks to slip through or become overwhelming. You might start one thing but your mind jumps to something else and it takes a while before you can get back to what you were originally doing. Caleb would help by breaking down your chores one at a time or with more manageable steps or most of the time he’ll step in and take care of things for you so you don’t feel burdened.

If anything important was coming up the day after, he’ll leave little sticky notes for you all over the house, each one with a tiny apple doodles. They’ll be on your mirror, bedroom door, anywhere else he knows you’ll see them

Ever since you were a kid, he’ll still help you go over any of your works or anything you were unsure about when you feel like you missed any details. He’ll make sure you don’t miss anything

Never judgemental at all if you cut him off mid-sentence. He understands that you need to get your thoughts out quickly before they slip away so he lets you speak freely without worry

Sometimes you might forget to reply to a message or forget to come back to the conversation, so he’ll send a follow up message like, “whaddya think pipsqueak? :o” or he’ll send you a post to bring you back to the convo

If you’re struggling to focus on something, instead of pushing you to keep going, he’ll encourage you to take a break. He’ll help you ease back into it whether it’s breaking things down further or offering some encouragement

[evillama666]

“Taking it slow”

“Taking it slow”

Daryl Dixon x reader

When I think about Daryl being in a relationship, I think about how slow he’ll need to take things. I, for one, like taking things slow. Daryl is new to this, of course you're going to have to teach him things and be patient. As much as I love confident and cocky Daryl, it’s going to take him a minute to actually get there. There’s going to be lots of baby steps! 

Summary: Must I explain much? Slowly entering a relationship with Daryl and getting comfortable 

Tags: Fluff, baby steps, inexperienced, headcannons, cuddles!!! No specific era or season

Word count: 4765

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

You’ve known Daryl since Atlanta. Of course, you two have been through a lot together, so he’s grown to care about you. Like the way he cares about Carol but, maybe more. You’ve seen him grow as a person, and all he’s gone through. You’ve always been there for him for everything, even if he tried to push you away at times. You two have a very close relationship, but lately, it seems to have been getting closer. Daryl needs a deep emotional connection with someone before anything happens. He’s probably on the ace spectrum. It makes sense. He’ll fall for anyone, doesn’t matter who, as long as they appreciate him. He just needs to feel loved. He’s bi just doesn’t know it or acknowledged it. 

You had to reassure him you can go slow, like really slow. You’d happily teach him everything since he’s never done this before. Eventually, he reluctantly gave in. First step was touches. He wasn’t used to affectionate touches. Whenever you touched him, he flinched. There was clearly some trauma bubbling up, so you never pushed. Eventually he trusted your touch and stopped flinching, even began to crave it. However, he doesn’t enjoy being affectionate in front of the group. That’s something you can put up with. If you want this to work, you have to respect his boundaries or he’ll push you away. Sometimes he’ll casually put his hand on your shoulder, or graze your arm around the group to show his appreciation. 

It took a while for your first kiss, and another week for your second. Sex would take even longer, but that’s not on your mind right now. The first kiss, he was hesitant, unsure, but when your lips brushed against his, he melted and kissed you back. Of course, you had to make the first move. His touches were slow, shy, and a bit clumsy, and he didn’t know where to put his hands. He was a mess after that kiss. That’s why it took so long for the second. However, the second one felt much more natural. He put one hand on your cheek, the other on your hip to pull you in close. He even used some tongue. His touches were much more confident. He’s a fast learner, after all. You're not sure where he picked that up from, but you liked it. He doesn’t kiss you often though, he’s still getting used to it.

He needs lots of reassurance from you. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong or it’s not good enough. If you teach him something new or if he picks something up from you, like something you do to him, he’s very tentative and hesitant. He’ll gradually feel more comfortable after you reassure him he’s fine. This man cannot make the first move. Not yet anyway. He needs you to give him a sign that it’s fine. There’s a lot of little affectionate gestures he wants to show you, but he’s just too shy. He’ll get more comfortable as time goes on and touch you whenever without hesitation. (:  For now anyway, he’s fighting with himself a lot. 

He has a lot of thoughts about how he’s not good enough, not handsome enough, doesn’t deserve you, you can do better. Thoughts along those lines. Why do you think he needs so much reassurance? When you two first started getting closer, he had a lot of those thoughts, so he pushed you away, avoided you. Little did he know is you melt those thoughts when you're around. He feels most at ease around you. It’s like you clear his mind. Of course, you gave him his space at first, but eventually you had to be near him. That little push made him realize how nice it feels to be around you. However, if you push too hard, he’ll push you away. He’s like a scared puppy. He has to make his way to you. 

We all know Daryl is a man of action, not words. He won't say ‘I love you’ too often, not early on anyway, but he’ll show you. He’ll pick up little trinkets for you on runs, let you have the first serving of food, or pick up rocks that match the colour of your eyes. When he’s more comfortable with touches, he’ll always show you small acts of affection to make up for his lack of words. Lots of little kisses everywhere and soft touches. He’s only gentle with you.

(Present)

He’s sitting on a log by the fire eating alone while the rest of the group is either still asleep, or grabbing food. You come up behind him slowly so you don’t startle him, and kiss his shoulder as you step over the log and sit. He grunts in surprise before smiling just slightly. He’s been getting more comfortable with your touches. He didn’t even mind that the group was near for that one, not like anyone of that actually saw. “Mornin’.” He says in a gruff voice, swallowing his food. You’re sitting closer than usual. He shudders when your shoulder brushes his. “Morning!” You reply cheerfully. 

His face scrunches when you kiss the corner of his lips, thinking he won’t want a proper one just yet. You were mistaken. He glances at the group behind him before cupping your cheek and pressing a quick peck to your lips. He looks back down at his bowl like nothing happened. He’s sure the group has picked up what’s been going on between you two. You two have been sharing a tent, after all. Your eyes widen after that quick kiss. “You’ve been getting bold lately.” He must be feeling comfortable. He just shrugs, quietly eating. You notice how he keeps looking over his shoulder at the group. “Worried about what the group will think?”

He looks back at you. His eyes say everything. You’ve gotten better at reading them since he’s so quiet. “How about we try something simple?” He thinks for a second, then nods. He’s been trying to work with you, push past his boundaries. Anything for you. He sighs contently when you lay your head on his shoulder. That’s something he can handle. He looks back and gets a small smile from Carol. Yea, she knows. She’s glad he found someone…. Or more like someone found him. 

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you eat. He’s always watching you, observing, trying to figure out how you work. Also… admiring you. He doesn’t get how such a pretty thang could fall for him. Why you're willing to go through so much to be with him. He usually has to push those thoughts away. When he finishes his food, he lays his head on top of yours. You both aren’t getting any looks from the group, so he’s willing to be affectionate right now. You set your food down, wanting to soak up this moment. You don’t get to many of these. “Are you going hunting again?”

“ ‘Course.” He closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. You sigh softly, knowing this moment won’t last too long. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He holds you for a moment before he pulls away, standing up to go grab his crossbow. You look down at your food with a slight pout. You know he’s just trying to fend for the group, but he always spends the whole day hunting. He ruffles your hair before heading off to the woods, and you give him one last look.

Nighttime is your favourite with Daryl. He’ll come back, feeling exhausted from hunting, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle with you. He’ll be more affectionate since you two have the privacy of your tent. You tiredly lift your head when you hear the tent zipper. “Daaryl.” You say his name softly with affection. He hates the way his heart reacts each time you say his name like that. “Hey sw-” He cuts himself off before he lets ‘sweetheart’ slip. You wish he would just say it, but you’ll take what you’ll get. “How’d it go?” Daryl groans as he takes off his vest. He’s sore after a long day and can’t wait to cuddle with you. “Mmmh… Didn’t get shit, but set up some traps.” He huffs as he collapses on the pile of blankets on the tent floor. His eyes close as you run your fingers through your hair. This is when he lets you touch him. Let’s you push past his borders and boundaries. This is the time for you to test new things. Push him just a little. His eyes open when he hears you giggle after you boop his nose. There’s a small smile on his lips. “Enjoying yaself?” You scooch closer and nod. “Uh-huh.” He leans into your hand as you rub his hair. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he’s clingy. You might get a few shy kisses from him, but you're usually doing all the work. Not that you mind, this man needs all the affection in the world. He sinks into the blankets as he unwinds from the day. “Ready for bed, Daryl?”

“More first.” He mumbles, enjoying the way you play with his hair. He’s never loud, but you can hear a few pleased sighs and content hums from him. He groans as your hand moves from his hair down to his shoulder, rubbing his taut muscles. “Damn…” He groans out. He didn’t think this would be so nice. His mind has always been focused on survival. He never stopped to consider the perks of a relationship. If he knew you’d do this for him every night, he would have probably been with you a lot sooner. “You like that?” 

“Hell yea.” His voice is barely audible. This man is in pure bliss right now. You need nothing more to be perfectly happy with him. It brings you such satisfaction to get him like this. He doesn’t even realize how vulnerable he is. That thought didn’t cross his mind. All he knows is how warm and safe you make him feel. Feeling a bit bold, you move your hand down to his chest.

His eyes open and he grabs your wrist, before seeing your look of surprise. He holds it for a second before letting go. Sometimes you’ll get something like that when you cross a boundary he’s not ready for. So, doing something you know he’s comfortable with, you bring your hand to his cheek, stroking your thumb over his goatee. His eyes close once he relaxes again. His head sinks against his pillow as he sighs.

You love the soft little sounds you're able to pull out of him. It’s a sign that you're doing something good. These are the times he’s most relaxed. When you're showing him affection. It’s easiest to read him when he’s vulnerable. Figure out what he likes, what he doesn't. Which isn’t much since he loves all the affection you give him. That’s what he needed in his life.

He grabs your wrist again, making you feel you did something wrong. Your brows furrow when he pushes himself up, then leans over you. “How do I…?” Oh, he wants to reciprocate. He hasn’t really done that. This must be growth. “Just do what feels natural.” He just looks at you, waiting for you to give him some more direct directions. “Uh… start with kisses. Kiss me wherever you’d like.” His eyes roam over your face and neck as he nods. He lowers his head, his lips just above yours, then he hesitates. You don’t close the gap, not wanting to push him. You want him to be able to make his way to you. He swallows thickly before tentatively pressing his lips to yours. You don’t kiss back until he does. For such a rough man, he has the softens lips you've ever kissed. 

He’s using this kiss to memorise your lips. All his other kisses were usually quick and shy. He never really felt your lips. After a good minute he sighs heavily against your lips as he pulls away. Then he moves his face down to your neck. He keeps his head buried there, enjoying your soft warm skin before he finds your pulse point and kisses it, since it's most vulnerable. It’s his way of showing you’re safe with him. One of your hands makes it to his hair. It’s gotten so long, it’s easy to tangle your fingers in it.

His hair is one of his favourite places to be touched. Why do you think he grew it out? You ruffled it once, back when it was short and he was hooked. He trails a couple of kisses down your throat before lifting his head for reassurance. He’s always asking for reassurance from you. He wants to be doing all of this right. You brush his hair out of his face. “That’s good, that’s good. Feels nice.” Your voice is breathless. He must be doing a damn good job if he was able to get you to sound like that. 

That’s all the confirmation he needs. He’s treating your skin so delicately. He hits a few sensitive spots that make you pull his hair. So those are the sweet spots? Duly noted. Now Daryl knows where to focus. You don’t know what this is leading to, if anything. Either way, you're happy. This is the most expressive Daryl has been since the two of you have gotten closer. His kisses are slow and soft, trying to make up for all the affection he hasn’t shown you yet.

Then he slowly lowers his weight on your chest, making sure not to crush you, and just lays there. There’s a lot going through his mind, there always is. You’re happily playing with his hair. His weight on your chest is soothing. It seems like he needs a minute, so you’re giving him all the time he needs. You don’t press, just leave him be. It must be a lot for him, but you're proud he pushed himself. You press a little kiss to his hair as a way to tell him he did good. You two have a way of communicating in silence. 

His brows furrow as he struggles with his thoughts. Is he doing this right? Why is it so difficult for him? He cares about you. Cares about you deeply, but it’s just so hard for him to get himself to show you. His thoughts get interrupted as you ruffle his hair. It’s like you’re directly scratching those thoughts away. He must be doing ok since you’ve never complained. 

He nuzzles his face into your chest. It’s the warmest part of you, so he loves it. That and your thighs. He loves laying his head in your lap, having his hair played with as you talk about your day. “Sleepy?” You ask quietly. He just grunts in response. Yea, he’s tired, but if he goes to bed, that means no more kisses. He tugs on your shirt like a child, silently asking for more. You happily give them to him, placing kisses all over the top of his head. He’s trying hard not to doze off. He craves more, but the warmth is getting to him. 

You lightly nudge his shoulder to see if he fell asleep. Apparently not, as he lifts his head with a small grunt. “Sorry. Thought you were asleep.” He huffs at that idea as he lowers his head. “Don’ wanna.” Wow, he sounded like a whiny child. You brush his hair back, trying to get him to look at you again. “Why not?” You're always trying to get Daryl to communicate. Even if it’s not vocal. Sometimes if he wants a kiss, he’ll nudge you or lay his head on your shoulder until you do something. Those moments are so cute.

He’s reluctant to speak. He’s not good and not used to voicing what he wants. “Wan- need more.” You laugh softly. Just a few words are good enough. You cup his cheek in your hand as you kiss all over his face. His face scrunches and he sucks in a breath before relaxing. And look at that, his cheeks are pink. Daryl loves and hates all the tingles your kisses leave behind. He never thought they could do that. He thought a kiss was a kiss, but you’ve taught him they're so much more than that. He lays his head back on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. It’s one of his favourite sounds. Your heartbeat, laughs and giggles, your breaths when you sleep, and the way your voice gets when you're excited or talking about something you're passionate about. 

Once he heard your voice get like that when you were talking about him to Carol. That’s when he figured you must truly have feelings for him. You’ve never once faked that voice. Thinking back, there were a lot of signs he missed. Maybe you didn't realize, or maybe you needed to take your time before you told him. Either way, he knows you’ve cared for him for a damn long time. 

He slowly untangles himself from you. Your hand lingers in his hair as you watch him pull away. Then his hands drop to his belt. Assuming he’s just taking it off for bed, you close your eyes and cuddle up with a blanket. He’s never taken his jeans off to sleep, even though you’ve told him to because, let’s be real, sleeping in jeans is uncomfortable. Maybe he’s not comfortable yet to let you see him like that. Your eyes snap open when you hear his fly. Damn, maybe tonight’s different. You catch a glimpse of the bulge in his boxers before forcing yourself to look away to give him some privacy. This is the first time he’s done this. Don’t ruin it by ogling him like a perv.

He slips under the blanket with you, cuddling your back, wrapping an arm around your waist. He presses a small kiss on your shoulder before closing his eyes. “Night.” You glance at him as he settles against his pillow. “G’night handsome.” A small breath of amusement passes his nose. You’ve been slowly easing into calling him pet names. He buries his face into the crook of your neck as he falls asleep.

The longer you slept with Daryl, the fewer nightmares he had. Of course, one will pop up once in a while, but mostly, his nights are peaceful with you. He loves using you as a pillow or holding you to his chest, using your weight for deep pressure therapy. It helps with nightmares. The warmth from your body is his favourite. Sleeping in a tent, the nights get cold, so he likes to snuggle close. He likes to think he’s doing this to keep you warm, but he’s doing it for his own comfort.

The first couple times he slept with you, he’d get up with the sun and leave, going on about his normal routine. One morning he slept in later than he wanted but didn't mind after he watched you wake up. You were so cute, all groggy, clinging to him, still pretty out of it, and so natural. But what he really liked? Your morning voice. It was so soft, softer than usual. Now he’s heard you use a soft voice with him before but this felt different. He ended up starting his day a lot later because he enjoyed watching you be all disoriented as you woke. He found it so interesting. He thought you were so beautiful at that moment. Like you were unreal. 

The first night you invited him to sleep over at your tent, he didn't cuddle. Sure, he let you touch him a little, but he kept to himself as he fell asleep. You tried to get him closer but he kept his distance. All your little touches were still new for him so cuddles would’ve been too overwhelming. However he slowly made his way to you. That’s how it works. You need to let him make his way to you. Let him take his time. 

He always wakes up before you. He’s just used to waking up early. Waking up before you, he’s always greeted with your sleeping form. He gets to see you at peak vulnerability. When you wake up, he’s sitting beside you, quietly watching with a soft gaze. He’s already got his jeans and vest back on. He watches as you blink rapidly to clear the blurriness. Now he’s waiting for you to see him and cuddle close. He’s memorised the way you work each morning. And there it is, you're grabbing him, trying to pull him down, so he’s laying with you. He happily complies. 

He brushes your hair out of your face, then glances at your lips. Is this the right time to kiss you? Should he wait until you’re fully awake? He doesn’t know. He wants you to engage first. That way, he knows you actually want it. He’s always afraid of crossing a boundary. Fuck it. He’s going to go for it. You’ll tell him if you didn’t like it right? You're so much better at communicating than him.  He pushes his lips against yours, lingering for a moment, before pulling away. The happy hum he got from you makes him feel better. He’s considering a way to push himself a little further, but not entirely, so he’s not out of his comfort zone. Soooo... “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

Your eyes light up when he finally calls you that. He’s been wanting to for a while, he was just too shy. “Good morning, handsome!” Your excited demeanour makes him chuckle. Ok, so you like that. He’ll call you that more just to see you react like that. He runs his hand through your hair, trying to smooth it out. “Ya lookin’ a lil’ messy.” A small pout forms on your lips then you get an idea. “Would you like to brush it?”

His hand falters. That’s a very intimate act for him… but it seems easy enough. That’s something that can ease him into something more. He nods once with a grunt. You sit up, grabbing your brush, then sit in front of him. He hesitates as he looks at your hair. It’s messy, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s rough with his hair on the rare occasion when he brushes it, but he knows he can’t be like that with you. You look over your shoulder when he doesn’t start brushing. “I’ll let you know if you pull.” He sighs as he brushes the ends of your hair. He’s brushing slowly, being extra mindful not to hurt you. “How’s tha’?” 

You close your eyes. You can feel how careful he’s being. “You’re doing good.” While brushing your hair, he only snags a couple times, but it’s not enough to really hurt you. Still, he feels like shit. “You’ll get better the more you do it.” He pauses. You’ll let him brush your hair more? He… really likes that idea. He runs his fingers through your hair, making sure he didn’t miss any knots. Then he tries something you always do to him. He lightly scritches your head, drawing giggles from him. “Haha, Daryl!” You laugh, leaning back against his chest and he wraps an arm around you. He’s learned the way you play with his hair, so he has some idea about how he’s supposed to do it. He presses his head against your shoulder, leaving little kisses. He’s observing your reactions, seeing what makes you react how. See, he’s learning. “I’m not goin’ huntin’ today.”

“Why-” You get cut off as he pulls you down with him. “Oh.” You laugh, cuddling up with him. Today, he wants to focus on getting closer with you, learning about you, and feeling more comfortable with you. He’s never going to get any better at affection if he doesn't try it. He compares it to hunting. There’s a lot to learn, a lot of patience, but if he practices then it’ll become second nature. He’s only really affectionate with you at night, and that doesn't last too long because you both end up falling asleep. When you wrap a leg around his waist, he tenses. He wasn't expecting the gush of warmth that would come with that. A second later, he relaxes, holding you close. “C- can I kiss ya?” 

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.” You’ve told him that a couple times before, but he still asks. Though if you keep telling him, he’ll slowly learn. Just reassure the baby. It’s all he needs. He presses kisses to your shoulder, making his way up to your neck. Soft little grumbles and sighs can be heard from him. He’s never let his hands wander, he’s just been too much of a sweetheart for that, but today he’s feeling bold. His hand moves down to your waist, gliding over your curves, then rests on your hip. He likes the way your body feels. It’s perfect. It’s so soft to touch. He’s not used to feeling something like that. His fingers squeeze just slightly, not wanting to be rough. 

Never feeling him touch you like that before, makes you feel those nice tingles. So, you snuggle closer, trying to encourage him to keep going. It takes him a second to realize what you want before running his hand up and down your side. The baby boy is learning! His movements are stiff at first before becoming more natural. He’s giving into the feelings you make him feel. You're soaking up every touch. It's the first he’s really ever done this. “Am I… doin’ ok?” He asks nervously. You sigh happily. As much as you love showing him affection, it’s nice to have some in return. “You’re doing more than ok.” Daryl's eyes gaze over your face and body language, trying to get a read on you. You’re really not that hard to read. You’re basically melting under him. He has to bite back a smile. He can’t believe he’s actually making you react like this. Do you know how good that makes him feel? Knowing he has an effect on you? He’ll be using that against you when he’s more comfortable. 

You mess with his hair as his hands roam from your sides to your tummy. He’s trying to memorise how you feel. He closes his eyes and buries his face in your neck, so he’s solely focused on the way you feel. He’s very bold this morning. He’s never this brave when he touches you. Once he feels like he let his hands roam for long enough, he takes a peek at your face. You look peaceful. He got you like that, huh? That makes him feel a sense of accomplishment. 

He flinches back when you suddenly bring your hand up to stroke his cheek. His facial muscles relax when he realizes you didn’t mean any harm. He’s gazing at you tenderly. His eyes always give him away. And when he closes them, that means he’s feeling comfortable. It’s his way of lowering his guard. He lets out a low groan as you ruffle his hair. That always makes him melt. He turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm while he makes eye contact. 

The fucking BUTTERFLIES, this man just made you feel. He knew what he was doing. When he’s confident with his touches it’s going to be fucking over for you. He chuckles slowly as your cheeks flush and you try to hide your face with your hands. He grabs both of your wrists, holding them firmly to his chest. “Ah, ah, girl.” You meet his eyes. He loves the pink flush to your cheeks. Sure, he’s gotten you to blush a few times, but never like that. He hides his smile by resting his head on top of yours. He sighs contently as he wraps his arms around you. His thumbs are tracing little patterns on your back. 

You close your eyes as you relax, giving into his embrace. His big strong arms are perfect for wrapping around you and holding you close. Have you seen his arms? They’re perfect for this. His grip is tight and secure, shielding you from the world. It’s his way of showing he’s protective of you. He likes to keep you close to his chest. That’s where his heart is after all. 

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

Soooooo, this turned out to be a lot more fluff than I was originally going to write but who’s complaining?

[bunni-v1]

so shadow milk legendary costume is coming so can we get more content of pre-corruption smilk 😝😝😭 pretty please and thank you ♥️

🍓Again I’m gonna call him Blueberry Yogurt because typing out pre corruption is annoying as fuck. Anyway, yes you can pookie mwah mwah mwah! These are short, but I still hope u like them :)

-Blueberry Yogurt is veryyyyy different from Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk describes his past self as a “Goody two shoes wet rag with no personality,” and while he’s being dramatic I don’t think he’s far off.

-Blueberry Yogurt is contemplative, gentle, kind, and above all else caring. He loves his subjects and his friends and he aims to share his knowledge with everyone. He’s in all sense of the word harmless. A sweet cookie with nothing but good intentions.

-He’s, essentially, his position as sage. And he doesn’t mind that, but he’s never really considered that he could be anything more. It’s what he was baked for, of course.

-Booooriiingggggg, as Shadow Milk would put it. But Blueberry Yogurt was content with things, it’s only after he realized cookies turn from the truth — mixed with the understanding of the sheer amount of power he held, that his mind changed.

-You we’re part of that realization. That, maybe, he could be more than what he was. That the life he lived wasn’t all it seemed to be. He was never made to fall in love, but he did, whose to say there isn’t more for him out there?

-But before that, he was likely the perfect partner to have. He cares a lot about his partner and their well-being, and he wants to be their total equal, even if they’re weaker than him.

-He spends a lot of his spare time with you. He’s an incredibly busy cookie with too many things to do, but he will always find time to spend on you. You are a high priority in his life, and he makes sure you know that.

-He likes having you around him, even when you aren’t doing the same things. Just you being there brings him peace of mind and makes him feel content.

-You being educated is equally important to him, so he takes the time to have conversations about serious topics. He’s particularly fond of reading with you and discussing the books with a critical eye. He won’t let you be blind to the truth, and if you’re afraid of it, he’ll work with you to ensure you aren’t.

-He’ll take you around the town when he visits, and most cookies know you as “The Sage’s Lover”. He won’t admit it, but that fact makes him proud. He loves to show you off, and he loves the fact that others know you’re together.

-Oh he does this cute thing where he’ll sweep you up in his arms and dance around with you. He’ll press you tightly against his body and swirl around like you’re at a real ball.

-He is so much more open about how much he loves you. He has no reason to hide or fear his affections for you, so he just doesn’t. His love is unabashedly displayed through physical touch as Blueberry Yogurt.

-Soft and gentle kisses pressed upon you dough. He burns into your dough his love for you so that you never forgot how much you are adored.

-He pulls you close and whispers his adoration like a prayer, as if to convince you of his love for you. Like you might forget if he doesn’t remind you so tenderly.

-He treats you to beautiful dates in locations you’ve only dreamed about, each one more heartfelt and romantic than the last. They’re built specifically to wow you, and he’s phenomenal at his job.

-He also gives you gifts all the time, hand made or things he found around the kingdom, it doesn’t matter. They’re all things you’ll make good use of, he makes sure of that.

-His goal is to make you feel considered and thought of. Again, he’s very successful. Everything he does takes you into account, and you become a very important part of his day to day life.

-One thing he does that Shadow Milk keeps is his love for carrying you around. It’s not a strength thing, he isn’t showing off, he just loves carrying you around. He feels like he can really care for you like that, so he does it as much as he can.

-He’s also very protective of you. He doesn’t stop you from engaging difficult topics and finding out truths, but he does stop others from disturbing your peace. It’s the one time he’ll use his magical abilities for selfish reasons, his need to keep you safe and happy winning out his morals for once.

-This is why when he feels himself… slipping… he sends you away as soon as he can. He doesn’t want you to think of him differently, and he’ll even take extra measures to ensure he won’t find you once he’s fully gone. (It’s the most annoying thing about himself, if you ask Shadow Milk. He plans for everything far too well.)

-It does ache and pain him to be so far from you when he does it, but it’s more important to him that you are safe. Even if it means you have to be safe from him.

[bejeweledinterludes]

— ⌈ dean x reader headcanons that are way too specific and very important TO ME! ⌋

『 part 2 of @bejeweledinterludes’ headcanon series. 』

read my headcanons part 1 here!

↳ . . . YOOOOO HEYYYY here’s a part 2 since everyone seemed to like the first one! thinking about doing a solely nsfw headcanon post OR some chubby!reader headcanons for deano 😋 bc i’m in the trenches of ovulation week rn and my stupid thoughts have to go somewhere. also, if anyone had requests, i’d definitely be open to that as well! anyhoo enjoy my pookies <3

𖤐 ────────────────────────

> being a decent hunter, the winchester brothers had heard of you before, and you them— you’d heard stories, of course, but you never officially crossed paths until you were at bobby’s house at the same time they were. you’d known bobby— because everybody knew bobby—since you started hunting.

your greeting to them came almost as quickly as your goodbye, nodding at them with a “hey” while clambering down bobby’s front porch to your car, your usual bag full of weapons and books in hand— but not before you notice the jet-black ‘67 impala next to your own.

and you know your way around a car, having your own ‘baby-esque’ vehicle that you love more than life itself (can be vintage or newer model, doesn’t matter, because it’s yours). dean had noticed your car in bobby’s driveway immediately, too— who wouldn’t? the man had eyes.

anyways, you walk past baby in all her glory while nodding appreciatively— turning just a little to dean and tossing a free thumb towards her with a grin before saying a quick: “dude. bitchin’ car.”

and after initially being thrown off by the way you carried yourself, a mixture of confidence, respect, and almost familiarity— dean shoots back with a “could say the same about yours.”

at that remark, you freaking smiled. and dean almost fainted right then and there at the sight. you got in your car, and that was it, due to your visit to bobby’s house really being just a pit stop/supply run before you headed right back on the road again, a new hunt already waiting for you in montana.

> because despite sam and dean being the most good-looking hunters you ever laid eyes on, you weren't one to dilly dally over just a pretty face (when lives were on the line, of course). but somehow, you knew that you’d see them again. hunting wasn’t exactly a booming career field, after all.

> that being said, it took dean a while to get comfortable around you whenever you did end up working together— like a while. you’d only crossed wires with the brothers a few times, helping them out when you could on hunts over the next few years. sam and you made easy friends almost immediately, but dean took longer to warm up to you. but you didn’t mind, or take it personally. you never pushed dean to be your friend even with how much you wanted to be.

> when you guys do work together, though, you and dean understand every single pop culture reference you guys throw at each other. he was shocked when he referenced a classic 80s movie (it was weird science) while working one of your first cases together.

and not only did you understand it and laugh— you made your own joke about it. now you two can’t shut your traps once you get going (for the love of god, do not ask about die hard around them).

> dean and you have also almost blown your cover and gotten caught on hunts because you guys laugh/giggle too loud at what the other says (especially in serious situations).

your favorite running joke is finding old portraits of ugly dead guys, pointing a finger at them and saying to dean “huh, i didn’t know you were alive in *checks plaque under painting* 1837” (and don’t worry, he does the same exact thing to you.)

> dean once fell asleep on your shoulder during a stakeout/recon/watching a potential victim’s house and you didn’t move an inch the entire time. when you finally tried to gently wake him up, he had the audacity to sleepily mumble “jus’ five more minutes” into your shirt and cling to you like a koala in the car. you, being the saint and not wanting to argue, let him sleep for another 2 hours couple minutes.

> and soon enough, dean eventually came around. you knew he cared about you way before he did, but you never forced anything. he appreciated that more than you knew.

and it wasn’t just one single moment of realization like in the movies when dean knew he cared about you. it was quiet, simmering, and when he looked, it was already just… there. but the feelings he hadn’t noticed he’d been pushing down for so long came to a head on a hunt when you almost died— the way they always did when someone he cared about was hurt.

after that, something shifted. you could feel and see it, even if dean didn’t say anything outright to you. for one, he called more often when you were away— he’d need help with something you knew that he already knew damn well how to do, or with something you knew he had much better contacts for.

i mean, come on. he knows freaking rowena, and he’s calling you for assistance on a spell? and sometimes, he’d call for no reason at all, making up some excuse just to hear your voice. you never mentioned it, out of fear he’d stop calling entirely.

> because you always loved when dean called.

───────────────────────── 𖤐

you have two ( 2 ) new messages from the author ! ↓

i genuinely believe that i tweak out over this man at least 4 times a day stg. and the gif i picked lives in my mind rent-free. he looks so ethereal sigh i wish he was real 💔

ANYWAYS here’s my taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[sonicssweetheart]

do u do x reader fics / reqs ?

if so,,,, can u do prime characters x reader headcanons (none in specific js curious on your ideas!!)

sonic prime characters x gn!reader || platonic / romantic headcanons

ᝰ.ᐟ disclaimer: i’m simply sticking to the new yoke city + green hill universes since that would take a lot of time to write!

⊱ ─── [ 💌 ] ─── ⊰

— sonic ;

there’s no doubt that sonic needs you around at all times throughout the plot. any universe he goes, he wants you to go with, no excuses. however, this backfires because he never stops to think how something may be affecting you negatively and only thinks the opposite.

“i..i assumed you would want this too after seeing things the way i do.” (ref to THAT scene…)

that being said, sonic can be selfish at times, but of course he always has the best interest at heart. he simply needs to learn how to think before he acts.

he’s very playful and finds it hard to be serious when you need him to be so the most, all because he’s afraid of confrontation and constructive criticism. he can be a little stubborn when it comes to you trying to ease him out of denial, but when he finally lets go, you can tell how anxious he is.

is always reminding you how much you mean to him at random moments. it could be completely out of the blue, when you’re reading a book or doing laundry, he doesn’t see a restriction to remind you of your worth. you will never have to worry about not being enough for him.

— shadow ;

it takes ALOT for shadow to be direct about how he feels about you; it’s all about subtle things for him.

he will show up to your door with a gift and brush it off like it’s a daily thing and has no impact on your relationship, or completes a task for you that he deems as “not worthy enough for you to stress about.”

his compliments come off more as rude rather than genuine and polite. again, he can’t be too direct out of fear of embarrassment — so sugarcoating it with annoyance works for him.

“don’t wear that, what are you, ancient? that piece doesn’t give you any credit.”

“you’re undeniably fatuous. however, you’re not dull, i guess i’ll give you that.

secretly protective as well. he will sneakily follow you around or just keep an eye on you by a nearby tree whenever he has an instinct that something may go wrong. he unquestionably abuses the chaos emerald to get to wherever you are as fast as possible. if he were ever caught, a scoff and a “i’m ensuring you will not cause havoc by acting foolish.” is the most of an explanation you will get.

if you’re travelling the shatterverse, he is very precise in the rules you follow so you don’t get hurt or lost. he would blame it all on himself if that were the case.

— amy ;

in the green hill universe, she adores you like a bee loves a flower. she takes pride in being close with you, and i like to think she always her arm linked with yours. she’s comfortable enough to talk to animals around you, as it comforts her immensely. she loves when you do little things for her like tending to gardens around the terrain, making her little crafts and standing up for her over little disputes between her and whoever.

“you do so much for me, y/n, you are so… ugh, i don’t know! thank you, for everything.”

in the new yolk universe, rusty rose is indifferent about you depending on how you treat her. if you act as if you’re sorry for her and see her mechanical front as a disability, she will refrain from speaking to you. your best bet is to treat her as you would anyone else but still admire the small things about her that makes her her. she doesn’t want anything huge, like big favours or even small things that don’t matter to her, however she LOVES flowers, just like canon verse amy. when you finally confess how you feel about her and offer a rose, the poor girl is so confused, yet secretly beaming inside.

“…i do not comprehend what you are telling me. you… really? i do not believe i was programmed to reciprocate, but… i feel warmth. is that good?”

— rouge ;

in the green hill universe, she is infatuated by you, however she still makes you work for her friendship/love. she likes the reassurance that someone will fight for her, as for i believe she was wronged in her past. help her fight in battle, participate in her favourite activities, compliment her style; you will gain her trust and devotion quickly. rouge likes to tease, knowing that you feel something for her, whether it be just wanting her friendship or more.

“dear, you know if you want something, you can come get it, right? it’s upsetting seeing you so defeated. oh, what’s wrong? did i touch a nerve?~”

in the new yoke universe, she rests similar, however she is very devoted to the friends and acquaintances she already has. she isn’t looking to complicate her life anymore, and would rather look ahead then stay in place and relish in the moment. but, you can twist that fact by helping her out without getting in her way. she will begin to see your respect and appreciation, and might even reward it with a token of gratitude.

“i saw what you did back there. i gotta say, you’re.. something else. don’t, uh, be a stranger.”

— knuckles ; (new yoke —> no place. dread knuckles>>)

in the green hill universe, he’s pretty stern towards you at first, but grows protective fast. as much as he wouldn’t admit it, he shows off in front of you in hopes that you’re impressed by his manly attitude and confident demeanour, and holds pride for weeks on end when you acknowledge it. he’s the type to challenge you to different activities that test strength and skill, and whether you’re successful or not, all he admires is your willingness to try. he loves those who don’t care if they’re good or bad at something and does it anyway because they want to, not because they have to, which sort of makes him think of his younger self and soothes his self destructive behaviour over it.

“not bad, little one. best of five next time? …you’re tired? oh, don’t be indolent. we’re almost done.” (he wants to see you thrive sooo bad)

in the no place universe, he is very upfront. if he wants to hang around you, take you on a date, have a deep talk, or anything along those lines — he’ll let you know. this man knows he’s everyone’s dream to befriend and follow like a God, and he takes pride in that. he’s also very persuasive by convincing you to do things you would never do, whether it be something as simple as trying a new food or swan diving off of mount everest. you give him that rush he craves in life, especially since life can be plain out on the water, but you give him that spark whenever you comply to his challenges. sometimes late at night while you’re both coaxed in the mood on the dock, he’s sloshing whiskey in his tainted cup and muttering to himself you.

“err… without you, this ship’d be soulless for sure. ya’ bring a fire, a flame to this old lassie, and i’d be sure not even hell could melt the ice frozen upon its ol’ heart.

— tails ; [FAMILIAL/PLATONIC ONLY]

in the green hill universe, tails admires you. he looks up to you as his mentor similar to sonic and is always happy to help when you’re in need. since tails didn’t grow up with a parental figure, sometimes he catches himself imagining such with you, and he feels embarrassed. he isn’t used to relying on someone else to fix his problems, and usually he just plain doesn’t like it. but with you — you follow his boundaries perfectly which makes him feel immensely appreciated and seen, something he looks for in a friend. he’ll let you know once in awhile how he appreciates your kindness, but his insecurities slip through every time.

“you know you don’t have to do this, right? i know im a kid, but you don’t have to take care of me… you want to?” (he looks down at whatever he’s doing, where you can see the small smile creep on the corner of his mouth)

in the new yoke universe, he is very apathetic towards you at first. he sees you just as another sonic, trying to change him to be his opposite reality self, but when he’s met with acceptance and loyalty — he begins to change his mind. he would never say it out loud, but he has a small spark of hope that you could be a forever companion he wouldn’t have to worry about betraying it. his ways of showing how he cares differs from letting you watch/help him work, crafting you things you mentioned you needed, letting you ask questions about his past (which takes some time). however, the smallest inconvenience relating to your friendship towards him can trigger him such as mentioning going somewhere without him, wanting to hang out with someone else, or just seeming off throughout the day.

“did you just lie the whole time? is that was this is? a game? original, y/n. i can’t even look at you right now.”

but, of course, when the reassurance and gentle conversation follows quickly afterwards, he reverts to an embarrassed but now angry at himself front.

“… okay. just… you would tell me if you were a traitor, right? sometimes i’m stupid and can’t tell. sorry.”

[blairxbear]

Boyfriend Headcanons - Tamaki Amajiki

What it's like dating Tamaki Amajiki

A/N: I will be doing these individual headcanons for each of our favourite MHA boys. Let me know if you guys have any specific requests or characters you want to see these boyfriend headcanons for!

The Shy, Flustered, Deeply Devoted Boyfriend

Dating Tamaki Amajiki is like experiencing the purest, most genuine love imaginable. He may be incredibly shy and introverted, but when he loves, he loves deeply, fiercely, and without hesitation. His devotion to you is absolute, even if he’s too nervous to express it outright. He’s the type of boyfriend who won’t say “I love you” a million times a day, but he’ll show it in a thousand small ways that mean even more.

Tamaki isn’t the kind of guy who falls in love easily, but once he does? He’s all in, and there’s no turning back.

The Flustered, Soft, Hopelessly Shy Boyfriend

Tamaki is the KING of getting flustered. The moment you show him affection, his brain short-circuits.

Hold his hand? Bright red.

Kiss his cheek? Visibly shaking.

Call him handsome? Completely malfunctions.

“W-wait, you actually like me? Are you sure?” (Yes, Tamaki. You are literally the cutest thing ever.)

He struggles with eye contact at first, especially when you say something sweet to him. He’ll glance away, mumble a flustered “thank you,” and try his hardest not to pass out from how much he loves you.

If you initiate cuddles, his whole body tenses up at first—but then he absolutely melts into you.

His arms wrap around you tightly, his face buried in your shoulder, and he’s so warm, so gentle, and so content just holding you.

The Sweet, Devoted Boyfriend Who Worships You

Tamaki may not say much, but he adores you more than anything. If he had to choose between saving the world or making sure you’re okay?

He’s choosing you. Every time. Without hesitation.

You are his safe space. Around others, he’s reserved and anxious, but with you? He can finally relax, finally breathe.

He remembers every little detail about you.

You casually mention liking a specific snack? He buys it for you the next day.

You say you had a bad day once in passing? He surprises you with something comforting.

He doesn’t always say what he’s feeling, but his love is so obvious in the way he treats you.

He always makes sure you eat, you’re comfortable, you’re happy.

He offers you his scarf when it’s cold without you even asking.

He waits for you after class, after work, after anything—just to make sure you get home safe.

The Extremely Flustered but Affectionate Boyfriend

Tamaki is so touch-starved it’s actually heartbreaking. The first time you hug him, he freezes completely like he doesn’t know what to do.

Then he slowly—shyly, hesitantly—wraps his arms around you. And when you don’t pull away?

He melts. Completely, utterly melts.

He actually LOVES physical affection, he’s just shy about it.

Holding hands? He gets so nervous at first, but once he’s comfortable, he loves lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing gently.

Cuddling? He LOVES IT, even if it makes him flustered. He likes being the big spoon because holding you makes him feel safe too.

Kisses? He gets so nervous the first time, but when you kiss him, he forgets to breathe.

His face burns, his hands shake slightly, but when he kisses you back? It’s soft, hesitant, and filled with so much love.

The Protective, Ride-or-Die Boyfriend

Tamaki isn’t the aggressive type, but if anyone disrespects you? He will step in immediately.

His usual nervous demeanor vanishes, and his voice gets sharp and commanding.

“That’s enough. Leave them alone.” (His gaze is cold, unwavering, and scary enough to make anyone back off immediately.)

If you ever feel unsafe, he doesn’t even ask questions—he just pulls you behind him and makes sure you’re okay.

If you get hurt, even slightly, he panics.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? W-we should go to Recovery Girl, just in case—”

You have a tiny scratch.

“That’s still an injury!” (Yes, he is overreacting, and yes, it’s adorable.)

The Secretly Romantic Boyfriend

Tamaki isn’t the flashy type, but when he does something romantic, it’s unbelievably sweet.

Loves giving you little surprises that are deeply personal.

He won’t just buy you flowers—he’ll find out what your favorite kind is and bring those.

He won’t just take you out for a date—he’ll remember something you mentioned WEEKS ago and plan a whole date around it.

Writes you little love notes but gets too embarrassed to hand them to you.

You find one hidden in your bag that just says:

“I… uh… I hope you’re having a good day. If you ever doubt how amazing you are, please remember that I think you’re the best person in the world.”

Would absolutely get flustered if you flirted with him, but if HE ever flirts first? GAME OVER.

He’ll say something sweet out of nowhere, and when you blush? He immediately loses his mind.

“D-did I say that out loud? Oh my god—” (Hides his face in his hands.)

The “I Miss You Even When You’re Right There” Boyfriend

Tamaki doesn’t like being away from you for too long.

If he hasn’t seen you all day, he gets quiet, fidgety, and a little sad.

When you finally show up, he relaxes instantly—his whole body language softens.

Hates leaving you after dates.

He’ll hesitate at the door, shifting on his feet, until you finally say, “Tamaki, do you want to stay a little longer?”

“…Yes.” (His voice is so soft, so full of longing.)

If you fall asleep on him, he does not move. At all.

He just sits there, holding you, staring at you with pure awe and disbelief.

The Absolute Best Things About Dating Tamaki Amajiki

He may be nervous and shy, but his love is deep, powerful, and unwavering.

He will never take you for granted. Every time he sees you, he falls in love all over again.

He is your safe place, just as you are his.

Loves you more than he even knows how to express—but in every little glance, every soft touch, and every shy, hesitant “I love you”…

It’s so, so obvious.

Final Thoughts

Dating Tamaki Amajiki is like being wrapped in the softest, most gentle kind of love. He may be shy, flustered, and nervous, but his love is deep, unwavering, and endlessly devoted.

He loves you with every quiet moment, every lingering touch, and every shy, whispered word. He may not be the loudest person in the room, but when it comes to you?

He loves you louder than anyone ever could.

[girl-lostconnection]

Hello, just saw your post about not wanting people to get upset when they demand work from you, which I’m so shocked to see isn’t absolutely obvious. I’ve been a lurker on this site for some time and I LOVE so many of the things you’ve written, honestly one will pop up on my blog and then I’ll go down the rabbit hole of everything you’ve written. You’re so lovely and owe absolutely nothing to your readers; you’re doing this for free?? Why would I demand you write something?? If people want something to be written, they can write it themselves. I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this.

On that note, I just wanted to say that I just read your tf141 x deceased!reader angst and you broke my heart. The way ghost was worried they would bury you alive because he remembers how horrible that was for him and would never want you to go through the same thing?? Even though he knows, realistically, you’re not alive? AND THE PHONE????? Absolutely crushing, thank you.

Lurker anon, the light of my inbox! First of all thank you, you are very sweet. And yeah, it did feel peculiar and I brushed it off for some time (avoidance of conflicts be damned) but yeah, it was time to address the issue. Anyway, I appreciate your support, it really is very nice of you🌻🌟

Also, yes! I wrote his part specifically because I remember that being buried alive traumatised man to hell and back. So even though logically he knew that Reader was already gone, this deeper part of him couldn’t bring himself to let go. Partially because he himself was not ready to let Reader go, partially because what if. What if they got it wrong, what if the coroner was wrong, what if Reader wakes up.

What if they wake up and they are in the awfully tight space with 3 feet of ground above them and oxygen running low. Simon remembers how terrifying it was, how part of him still hates tight spaces and the feel of soil under his nails.

So yeah, part of it was grief, part of it was trauma, part of it was Simon’s desperate need to protect or to try, however fruitless and mad it might have looked to the outside perspective.

But also, imagine him twitching awake every time his phone pings for like a week straight after the burial because again, what if. What if (he hopes) they were wrong, what if Reader is coming back, what if they are alive. I think he’d hang onto this thread as long as he can because it allowed him to keep it together at least partially. Bc you know if you aren’t truly gone then he might not need to mourn.

And then a week passes, then another one, then a month and it could be a random morning, his regular cup of tea. Seemingly nothing out of ordinary. And then the realisation hits him. Reader is not coming back. They are really truly gone.

I think Simon is the one (along with Kyle) who processes grief the hardest. Because Simon already lost so many and because Kyle doesn’t know how to let go. But that’s just a thought. Honestly, all four of them mourn pretty heavily

[zeel-zzz]

Red Rose Surprise

[a rosekiller kid fic]

BARISTA BARTY | ROSEKILLER | WC: 2.7k

i'm not sure why no one's written a rosekiller kid fic, but i give you this. i will definitely expand on this because i just love this idea so fucking much.

"Stupid strawberry milk."

If Barty was allowed to say one thing publicly without the risk of being fired from his place of employment, he'd probably say fuck big companies who ruined coffee shops for regular ass people. 

Sure, the big coffee chains have been around for years and it’s not like he knew what ordering coffee was like before them, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t despise them.

At least they were taking away the really insufferable customers, or that's what his boss liked to say. The only reason she can say that is because she doesn’t have to deal with them. 

Barty’s known to have a shit attitude. This is especially known in the coffee shops that employed him so many years ago. He doesn't take shit from anyone, and who have been going long enough know that Barty doesn't fuck aroud. 

He’s pretty sure Rosmerta is using his bad attitude in some marketing scheme.

“Stop by The Three Brews and get uniquely insulted by our prickly barista as he makes you latte art.”

He has to give it to her if that is actually what she’s doing, it’s one hell of a marketing tactic.

Still, it doesn’t mean he enjoys dealing with the annoying customers, and sure, he does know how to make the complex orders, and yeah he technically can make them, but it's not like he wants to. There’s a menu for a reason. Barty was not going to make a triple shot latte with a fraction of every type of milk substitute they had in stock. 

I mean, he could use the syrup pumps when people wanted hyper specific orders, but there’s a reason why they were placed so far back. Barty wasn’t going to walk all the way back there when the next customer just wanted an espresso. Getting orders out quickly got him tips and tips were what paid for his lunch.

What really worsened them was Rosmerta's seasonal menu, because now if Barty said they ran out of something they could just point to the menu’s seasonal options. 

“If you’re out, why are you still offering it? The least you could do is take it off the menu."

Apologies Susan, he wasn't aware someone could simply wipe off the words from their laminated menu that was placed in front of the cash register.  

He also hated the menu because it meant he had to put even more effort when serving. It’s not like you could serve a ‘Heart Flutter’ with a frown. It ruins the atmosphere or whatever.

Sometimes he wishes he would’ve just taken Regulus’ money, at least then he wouldn’t be forced to work the morning before Valentine's Day listening to the same romantic pop songs as he wiped down the coffee machine for the umpteenth time. 

One more hour, he just had to hold off for one more hour.

The door chimed and Barty only rolled his eyes when he heard the soft clicking of metal rings rubbing against each other.

“If you're not gonna order, you can make your way out, Sirius. I'm not dealing with your shit today.”

Barty could feel the judgemental stare of a mother on the other side of the counter. If it wasn't for the fact that he was still on the clock he would've flipped her off already.

“You can't kick me out Crouch, Rosmerta loves me.”

“Rosmerta loves using your face to draw up business. Hurry up and get behind the counter before we get told off again.” Barty threw him an apron that Sirius was just barely able to catch.

So, the thing was Sirius didn't actually work here, and technically he wasn't allowed behind the counter, but it's not like Sirius needed the money and Rosmerta wasn't going to keep him from working for free. 

“Are you still pissed off that I'm ditching you to go out with my super tall, super smart, super hot boyfriend tomorrow.” 

Sirius pulled his hair back carelessly before tying it up. Only Sirius Black could present an effortless look with no actual effort.

“Do I need to remind you that I've already had the pleasure of enjoying your super tall, super smart, super hot boyfriend.”

Barty had in fact had a go with Sirius’ boyfriend some couple months back. They hadn't known each other at the time, and Barty was certain that if he hadn’t hooked up with Lupin that night, Sirius and Remus would have never even met. Sirius’ entire relationship existed because of Barty.

“Don't talk about Moony like he's a piece of meat.”

“Oh, so only you can objectify him?”

Sirius nodded as he took off his jacket to hang on a hook and tied his apron. “Boyfriend privileges, but you wouldn't know about that would you Crouch.”

He wouldn't actually, Barty Crouch Jr wasn't known for settling. Not a single one of his relationships lasted longer than three months, at least if you didn’t count Emmeline Vance, who Barty tends to go back to every couple months when she’s single.

Sirius didn't count Emmeline as a relationship.

Barty could only roll his eyes before he started on the next order, cappuccino, no foam. He wanted to kill someone.

And so it went for the next half an hour, Barty rotated from creatively insulting one of his regulars and resisting the urge to pour the frothing milk on some prick's head. 

“Fuck this, I'm taking a break, call me if you don't know what your doing.”

Sirius waved him off before he turned to the cash register with a bright smile, his loose curls falling to frame his face. Barty wasn’t even surprised when the woman began to stumble with her order, Sirius had that effect on everyone.

He was sitting across the counter when a little girl walked in all by herself.

Bright blonde hair held in two crooked pigtails. A set of plastic butterfly wings that were sliding off her shoulder, her face decorated with glitter and star stickers. He was pretty sure that the smudged paint around her eyes was supposed to resemble wings as well. It was the sparkling princess skirt and mismatched shoes with untied laces that really pulled the whole thing together.

She was already heading towards the display case, eyes focused on the pastries that had been delivered earlier that day by the local bakery.

Sirius leaned over the counter when he noticed who Barty was looking at. 

“Hi sweetie, you see something you like.”

The girl looked up at Sirius with a nod before she pointed at one of their last brownies. Barty bit the inside of his cheek, he was really hoping that someone wouldn't take it before his shift was over.

As if to sense his despair Sirius looked over at Barty in question.

Would Barty be generous for the first time in his life and sacrifice the last brownie to the little girl who had her face pressed against the glass, or would he be a selfish prick and break this little girl's dream?

Barty sighed before gesturing for Sirius to give it to her.

He hated kids. He hated seeing their round faces with their big eyes.

Oh, but the smile that broke out the moment Sirius handed it to her in a napkin was heart melting. Barty couldn't help but laugh at the way she began to jump around in joy. Her little wings flapping with each jump she made.

“Luna, there you are. What did I tell you about running off on me?”

The girl turned around proudly presenting the brownie she had just received, “Evie look, brownie!”

Barty hadn't even noticed when the guy walked in, too focused on making sure she didn't slip on her untied shoelaces.

He was tall, and that was saying something because Barty was tall. He might not have been Remus Lupin tall, but he was definitely tall. He also had blonde hair, nearly platinum. Barty was almost in awe of how good it looked on him. He didn't know many people who could pull off platinum.

Silver septum ring with plenty of other piercings on his ears. Each one carrying silver jewelry. Barty couldn't help but think that gold would've suited him better.

“I can see that angel, but I only have enough for one treat right now. You're going to have to choose if you want this or your red rose surprise.”

The girl, Luna, pouted, and Barty wanted to groan. Kids were his weakness.

Sirius looked over at Barty unsure of what to do. Barty only mouthed his response.

“The brownie's on the house.” Sirius gave the customer that charming smile of his as he rested his arms on the counter. This was the real reason Rosmerta kept him around. Always so charming that Sirius Black, no one could resist him. 

“My boss just loves fairies, and she told me that every fairy who visits is supposed to get one treat for free.” 

Luna beamed up at Sirius before turning around to the guy, Evie, and sticking her tongue out before turning back to Sirius.

“I want a red rose surprise.”

“I don't think we have those here.”

Evie let out an exaggerated sigh before he kneeled in front of her. “Imma have to work my magic little moon. Why don't you go pick a seat and enjoy your brownie while I get that red rose surprise.”

Fuck it all to hell, ‘little moon’. Kill him, kill him now. End his existence before he ends up falling in love with a complete and utter stranger.

There was something that needed to be known about Barty.

He found people who were good with kids attractive. And he didn't mean it in a ‘Oh, wow. That's so cute. You're sweet and protective.’ kind of way, but more like, ‘I don't care if it's biologically impossible. I want to have your kids so that I can see you do this for the rest of my life.’ kind of way.

Regulus says he's absolutely mental and this is a result of his daddy issues, while Sirius says that it's perfectly reasonable because it's exactly how he feels about his own boyfriend.

Seeing this super hot guy talk to this little girl like she was the only good thing in the world made his heart race a little. A strangely weird feeling because even though he's felt this way before, it's never gotten this intense.

His friends find the dichotomy between what he's like and what he finds attractive absolutely hilarious, because Barty liked pretty people. He liked sweet looking people who take control of a situation with a smile on their face. A big contrast to Barty who was covered in tattoos, used cheap black box dye, and had a shitty ass personality, or so he was told.

His last boyfriend would disagree, but Sirius refuses to listen to anything James Potter had to say in regards to Barty. Skewed perception was his reasoning. 

“Cute kid, is she your's?” Sirius stood back up and eyed Evie as he stood up, blue eyes following Luna as she sat down at one of the booths.

“My sister's, actually. I’m babysitting today.” 

“Oh, and what, no girlfriend to help you out.”

The guys smiled at Sirius and Barty wanted to roll his eyes. 

Although in a fully committed relationship, Sirius Black was incapable of not flirting with their customers. He's probably the reason why Barty has to deal with so many annoying customers. Charmed by Sirius and insulted by Barty, only at the Three Brews.

“No one at the moment, but Luna’s a good help in getting people interested. Someone's bound to find me worth sticking around for.” He smiled at Sirius and although Barty couldn't see just how lethal it was he could definitely see its effects by just how red Sirius was getting.

It wasn't by much, but no one's been able to get such a reaction from him since he's gotten with Lupin. It wasn't often when Sirius Black could be brought to blush, and if someone ever did manage it, it was a sure fire way to get Barty interested.

Sirius looked over at Barty and Barty took it as his cue to go save his friend from possibly ruining his newly established relationship.

The transition was quick and simple. Barty pulled Sirius back and told him to check on that order Rosmerta had placed for sandwiches for the incoming lunch rush. Sirius barely had time to wish him luck before he was pushed to the back where the phone was.

“Good morning, I'll be serving you since my coworker doesn't know how to keep from drooling when he sees a pretty face.”

And fuck did he have a pretty face. Barty was going to need more than luck to get through this.

“Well, I'm not complaining. One pretty face replaced by another, nothing to be disappointed about.”

Red alert, red alert! This is not a drill! Why the hell is this guy flirting with him?

“Um– what would you like to order? We have plenty of Valentine's Day specials if you're feeling festive, but we do have regular coffee if you aren't looking for anything fancy.”

Barty looked over at the little girl who was carelessly kicking her feet as she broke off a piece of the brownie. He was kinda regretting giving it to her now. He could really use some chocolate to ease the nerves that were eating at him. 

“Do your Valentine's specials have strawberries?”

No, no, don't do this to him. He really didn't want to make anything too difficult. He already had to make three of those today and tomorrow that all he would be doing.

“Some do.”

“Okay, then, do you mind just putting regular milk in a cup, adding some diced strawberries and whipped cream with strawberry syrup on top. It's my niece's birthday today and I always get her one of these, but the last place we went to ran out of strawberries.”

“So, the red rose surprise is just strawberry milk.”

He shrugged a little, “It's what my parents used to do for my sister and I on our birthday. I guess I'm just following the tradition.”

Oh, he was so fucking screwed.

“Yeah, I can make it work, Evie.”

He laughed and Barty could only stare at him as he covered his face in embarrassment. 

“It's Evan actually.”

“Barty.”

“Well, thank you Barty, you just saved my day and made her birthday ten times better. How much would it be?”

And Barty knew the moment he made eye contact, he was done for.

“It's on the house, a gift for the birthday girl, and you if– if you want something?”

“No, I'm good for now, but thanks.”

Evan smiled and Barty swallowed nervously.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Yeah, no problem. I'll have your drink ready to go in a moment.”

Evan nodded his head before he turned around and sat next to Luna who was now staring at him with wide eyes and head tilted to the side. As soon as Evan sat down she turned to him and pointed at Barty before gesturing at her cheeks. 

Evan laughed for a moment before looking over in Barty's direction. They made eye contact, Evan winked at him and Barty quickly turned around to get that drink ready.

Strawberry milk, strawberry milk, strawberry milk.

How the hell was he supposed to make strawberry milk?

“Hey Barty, are you okay? Your face is all red.” 

Barty jumped at Sirius' words

“Relax, it's just me.”

“You know how to make strawberry milk right? I mean the pretty kind that you see all over Instagram and shit.”

“Yeah, I used to make it for Reggie. Why?”

“Teach me.”

“What?”

“Teach me how to make your stupid strawberry milk.”

“I can just make you some.”

“No, you have to teach me so I can give it to that little girl and then when Evan sees how good I'm at making strawberry milk he'll have no other choice but to marry me so I can keep making strawberry milk.”

Sirius blinked at him before laughing. 

“Evan? Is he the reason why your face is all red like that?”

Barty wanted to strangle Sirius or drop to the floor and die, preferably both, but not necessarily in that order.

“Fine, I'll teach you how to make it, but first go wash your face. You're as red as a strawberry right now.”

Barty could only hang his head in embarrassment when he saw his reflection on the mirror. Bright red, strawberry red.

Stupid red rose surprise. 

Stupid strawberry milk 

Stupid Barty for falling for some guy named Evan.

tags: @the-person-that-did-that @saiichai

[perseus-jackass]

okay we've got jason & dick fans who hate what fandom does to tim. im mostly a damian stan and i have to say that everytime i see a post by a tim fan that says ANYTHING abt any of the al ghuls, it ends up being the weirdest grossest stuff ever. do they even realize how they sound????? a lot of posts abt the al ghuls end up being abt tim somehow and ive already blocked so many ppl. but it never stops.

i still think of that panel where tim puts damian on his "contingency" list and says its bc of his "biology"🤮🤮🤮🤮

and for a while there were a lot of posts that made jokes abt how tim had the highest kill count in the family. Like are you flexing that?????

also for the sake of jason's fans ive got to mention red hood tim aus. the only way he gets to be red hood if you flipped the batfams ages around is if you straight up ignore women and poc characters - and then tim fans do. But no he would not give a shit abt crime alley lmao he was rich and grew up rich and spoiled and has nothing in common w these people

YES YES YES OMG THANK YOUUUUUU i’ve said up before, I’ll say it again.

If you have not read a comic that they’re in pre-911 you don’t get to speak on the Al Ghuls. 

And for the most part, it’s usually Ra’s or Damian, but I’ve seen Talia catch a few strays from Tim fans too!! Which pisses me off like you do not know my wife. I just don’t understand how they can’t see the blatant racism. I am beating them away from Ra’s and Damian with a stick.

I have not read that because I make a point to avoid Tim reading stuff. And more specifically early Tim and Damian stuff because of the way Damian is written, BUT THATS INSANE WTF. I will have to go to my Damian fan mutuals about this. That’s genuinely so racist. What the fuck who wrote that? Was it Morrison? It was probably Morrison. 

“Tim has the highest kill count in the family.” I WILL KILL YOU. It’s basic comic book logic that if the deaths do not happen on screen, they did not happen. THOSE BASES DONT FUCKING COUNT OMG

Also, thank you for the reverse robins comment. Those are the bane of my existence. If we’re gonna reverse robins, either Steph is Red Hood or we just reverse the order and keep the roles the same.

You’re absolutely right about Tim not giving a shit about Crime Alley. The whole reason Jason made that his whole thing is cause that’s where he’s from, those were his people, he loved them. Tim doesn’t have that. 

But yeah, Tim stans ignoring women and POC once again? I’m so surprised. 

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

ahem.. alien!art.. I’ll just drop this here

he’s so overly grateful every single time u make him food like. for me :DD

maybe where he’s from, it’s a bit like, food is a labour of love, takes time to collect ingredients, to mix it all properly, to prepare stuff, to make it yummy (maybe their food is purely sustenance, nothing there really for the tastebuds). maybe sharing/giving food is seen as something like an offering or a token - be my mate, or be my confidant, or be my family. he doesn’t know that you don’t know this, so no matter when this happens (pre or post sex stuff), he’s constantly trying to figure out which he is to you now, cus he accepts the food everytime, but he’s a bit weird cus he’s like… in a mate way or in a ‘we coexist well together’ way :(((

everytime u set a plate infront of him, he’s shooting up to spare u a cheek kiss, he’s doing everything in his power to say Im accepting this token in a mate way.

Some NSFW + All of the Alien Art lovers are so big brained <3 thank you for keeping him alive

I agree, food on his planet is generally bland and most of life there is boring. It’s all routine

3 different meals to choose from for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Go to work specifically designed for your skill set, some leisure only made for maintaining health, the occasional book and craft making for entertainment and sleep. After crash landing going back to that is actual torture for him.

And yes! the luxuries of enjoying life are meant to be exclusively shared with a lover or family, actual good meals are saved for special occasions, birthdays, holidays etc growing and harvesting plants wasn't easy on his planet most of the soil there was rotten so imagine his shock the first time you ever offered him anything, a small snack with tea or even a leftover slice of cake. 

It’s scary the way he’s slack jawed following your every move in the kitchen ready to pounce on you. You actually love him like that?? But you don’t even know him! He hugged you so tight, craved to be bonded to you for life while you’re trying to pry him off. It hurt his feelings when you first rejected him. You realized to accept his affection when he burst into tears while serving him breakfast he wouldn't let go of your hand and you yanked it out of his.

and irritated scoff left your lips “Stop it Art it’s just food" you mutter under your breath

“But.. it’s from me, made special by you.” He cried eyes glimmering from adoration and sadness munching on pancakes with blueberry eyes and a whipped cream smile. 

he always latches his mouth onto yours after you taught him how to kiss as a thank you sex as well, Art would get on his knees pull down your pants or ask you to sit on his lap so he can finger you before he eats, he's eager to please. 

Dummy never tells you why he’s so excited to love you after you offer him food either he’s too embarrassed to and it just adds onto the complex nature of your relationship, are you his damn girlfriend or not :(

[keiffeine]

this is very specific but like patrick with an eyebrow piercing.

one night he goes clubbing with his mates, everyone has their hands up, vibing with the music. suddenly a girl's bracelet flies up and catches on his piercing, almost ripping it clean out.

AND OFC SHE STARTS TO APOLOGISE, SHE EVEN FOLLOWS HIM TO THE BATHROOM TO MAKE SURE EVERYTHING'S OKAY

author’s note: ty for for req, i love it!! and so sorry for getting to this so late :)

patrick wanted to let loose for the night so him and his friends decide to hit up a club in the city. there’s loud music blasting through the speakers, bass pumping so hard he could feel it thrumming in his chest, and bright strobe lights cascading over everyone. it’s the exact ambiance that he needed.

the dance floor is pretty crowded already but patrick doesn’t mind. at this point, he’s a little buzzed after downing a couple drinks and it’ll take more than just a cramped dance floor to really bother him when he’s this relaxed. he starts nodding along to the music, raising his arms up once the beat drops just like everyone else.

suddenly, someone’s arm comes into his view and he feels a sharp pain directly in his right eyebrow where his piercing is. there’s another pull and he winces, then he hears an: “oh, fuck! i’m so sorry, fuck, gimme a second. stay still.”

whoever it is—she carefully starts to maneuver her hand away. patrick looks down to see who the perpetrator is and his eyes land on a pretty girl, eyes blown wide as she’s clutching her braceleted wrist.

“i’m so sorry! my bracelet got caught on your piercing. shit, you’re bleeding!” you tell patrick. he doesn’t hear you at first; maybe it’s the alcohol but he’s mesmerized by the way you look under the lights as it shifts from color to color. he stares, trying to think of something witty and charming to say to the pretty girl standing in front of him, but he’s blanking until he snaps back into reality moments later.

he raises his hand and gently presses a finger to where his piercing is, and sure enough, patrick looks at it and it’s wet with blood.

“crap, i should clean this up,” he mumbles, not irritated with you in the slightest but more with the fact that he knows it’ll probably swell overnight. “‘scuse me,” patrick sheepishly says to you before he’s turning to head to the bathroom. he’d love to stay there and try and make a move on you, but not while he’s got a stupid bloody eyebrow piercing.

“wait!” you call, hurrying after him after him in your little heels. you follow patrick into the men’s bathroom (someone gives you a strange look just as you enter while he exits. you ignore him), and stand beside patrick as he leans over the sink. you wince as you catch the sight of his bloody piercing. patrick prods it with a gentle finger and turns to look at you.

“almost pulled it clean off,” he says jokingly with a smile, which doesn’t help the guilt you already feel inside.

“sorry. here, let me at least clean it,” you insist, ripping off a piece of paper towel and wetting it. patrick’s about to refuse but you’re already dabbing it against his eyebrow, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. “m’so sorry,” you apologize for the hundredth time tonight. “already acting stupid drunk when i haven’t had a single drink yet.”

patrick huffs a small chuckle. he finds all of this a little endearing and cute. he’s staring down at you again, a smirk grazing his lips with how close you’re leaning in, gingerly cleaning all the blood away. patrick can make out your features more clearly now without the distortion of the strobe lights; the color of your eyes, pretty (and kissable) lips, and down to your outfit.

“i’m patrick, by the way,” he says coolly, swagger returning after a moment of hindrance. his eyes flit back up to meet yours. “and it’s fine, by the way. don’t worry about it.”

you let out a quiet, unsure grumble but smile a little anyway at his reassurance. your cheeks heat up a little with the way he’s so shamelessly checking you out. “y/n,” you respond, tossing the paper towel into the trash. “it’s all good now, i hope,” you said under your breath, attention turning from the silver barbell to patrick’s eyes.

“you said you haven’t gotten a drink yet?” patrick recalls, biting the inside of his cheek before adding, “come on, i’ll treat you,” he suggests hopefully, nodding towards the door.

of course, you fall into step with him right away. he’s charming and so handsome, your type to a t. like you’d say no to that.

challengers masterlist

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[spleenthecat]

alright let me take a crack at this

there are a few plot holes that we need to avoid here. and by a few i mean a good amount.

stan’s criminal record. nobody would want to take the identity of someone who still has jail time to serve. so this will have to be an au where a. it takes place before stan turns to crime or b. stan doesn’t commit crime at all. or a secret third option where ford doesn’t even realize how much of a criminal stan is until he’s too far in and has to learn how to run from the cops.

the fingers. nobody in gravity falls ever noticed that ford had 6 fingers, so it was easy for them to just go with a normal guy who had 5. but someone with 5 fingers seeming to randomly grow an extra finger? strange. especially since stan is much more sociable than ford. the guy who’s known for being super talkative and knows everyone in town suddenly locks himself away in his house? also strange.

stanley needs to be out of the picture one way or another. probably not dead?

ford needs a motive. this has two parts two it. a. he needs a reason to leave his old identity behind and b. he needs a reason to take stan’s identity specifically.

so with all of this in mind. i give you this.

stan gets to gravity falls before ford does. thinks “hey this place isn’t on any maps. no cops will find me here!”

settles in. makes a good living off of being a tourist trap.

he uses the bill summoning thing as another attraction. Very Stupid Idea.

bill comes to make a deal with stan. thinks “hey look there’s a guy i can con.”

stan gets approached by bill for a deal. thinks “hey look there’s a guy i can con.”

stan goes missing

ford arrives to gravity falls.

ford does not have grant money. people don’t believe in his weirdness theory because they think he’s just talking about the tourist trap that used to be there for a while.

finds an old abandoned shack.

investigates old abandoned shack.

“hey wait a minute. not only are there scraps of proof for my theory, but these are stan’s belongings!”

ford thinks. nobody takes him seriously. people don’t seem to take stan’s disappearance seriously either.

“hey! what if i took on his identity, reopened the tourist trap, and used this footing for money and such while i look for stan?”

and thus. ford takes stan’s identity, runs the tourist trap and tries to look for his brother.

the excuse for the fingers is that he had a run in with some kind of magical creature. it gifted him with extra dexterity in the form of extra fingers. everyone loves it.

ford learns to run from the cops. something he never thought he would have to do.

You know what? We have Stanley pretending to be Stanford for a long ass time

Now give me an AU where Stanford pretends to be Stanley. I don't know man, like he wasn't anyone you could even pretend to be. Stanley is a nobody. Basically.

So this AU would be where he is someone somewhere and Stanford has to pretend to be him. Why? I don't know, figure it out.

[ohtobefreaky]

Head in my fucking hands I’m blaming my best friend for this

I DONT EVEN PLAY WHY AM I HERE (trauma)

Caleb was made specifically for me and me only, sorry girls he’s MINE

tw: get incested (it’s built into his character yall can’t even blame me for this one)

I think he would thrive with a puppy little sister he can spoil and buy a million treats and toys and the softest dog beds for

I just wanna be his puppy sister 😔😔😔 want a big brother to give me tummy rubs and spoil me (and call me a good girl while I drool and slobber all over his cock)

I wanna be his kitty too :( I should be allowed to pounce on him and dig my nails into him while we cuddle cause he smells like another person and he’s supposed to love ME

I need him to teach his baby sister how to masturbate </3

his hands so big and gentle on yours as he guides them over your tits, pinching them so hard you can feel his skin flooding around yours

Guiding you down your own body, your hands twitching under his from how warm and hot you feel, his breath on your neck as he leans over you to show you your pussy, spreading it with his free hand as the one guiding you brings your fingers down to run over your little clit snd tease your hole :3

your dear big brother, your biggest comfort, now showing you exactly which spots to touch to make yourself moan

Big brother Caleb with a smile on his face when you climb into his bed late at night, pouting because you just can’t do it like he can :( can he show you just one more time?

(One more time leads to twice, leads to three times, leads to him just doing it for you)

Him making fun of you for being so needy but so useless you can’t even get yourself off <3 it’s okay, big brother will do everything for you, just lay back

I want him to show his little sister how to kiss for “whenever you get a boyfriend” which obviously turns into showing you how to give a blowjob and how to fuck and then he’s just saying he’s ur boyfriend now so you should do that with him all the time and oh

I wanna be his bio sister, the only one left, ur only connection to anything before and you get so jealous and sad when he starts treating MC as his sister

Does he hate you now? Does he even want you anymore?

I want his nickname for you to be mouse and the first time you hear him call the mc pipsqueak, you ‘know’ you’ve been replaced

Big brother doesn’t need you anymore, he has her, so you start pulling away

He’ll be happier with her </3

God I want him to reassure you so gently, cradling your face in his hands and kissing your cheeks and nose and forehead and everywhere he can

He loves you, differently than he loves the MC

You’ll always be his baby sister, the most precious thing in his life.. maybe he should prove that to you <3

his slightly cold hands trailing down your stomach and slipping under your panties and ohhh

The way he plays with you so softly, like you’ll break if he’s too hard with you

Him smiling and kissing you, his lips soft against yours and when he pulls away you can hear his soft laughing at how dazed you look

You’ll never doubt him again (although you might pretend just so he’ll remind you :3)

My bestie was describing him for me and omg the whole flipping personality,,

I do not hear that and immediately imagine being all soft and silly with ur big brother and suddenly he’s all mean and rude and keeps asking you to do weird stuff with him

Him pinning you down and looking at you so harshly when just a few minutes ago he was smiling and playing with your plushies with you

His lips rough and demanding against yours as he forces himself into your mouth, chasing your tongue when it tries to retreat from his <3

Goddddd I need this man so bad and I don’t even know him help

[sickkandstonedd]

rambling because i can’t sleep

thinking about a post fall hannibal and will, hidden away someplace in europe from hannibal’s past, doing their best to replicate domesticity. and maybe one day it somehow gets brought up in conversation, if they do eventually talk at all, or they’re cozied up one night and hannibal decides to tell will about his childhood; everything that made him into what he is, even if he doesn’t view it that way. and maybe after a long, long time of working things out, in whatever messy ways they need it to be done, stability settles into place and possibly love could be a little less violent between them. i see it as with time, it’d erode and wear and get softened at the edges, expressions of said love both morbid and typical can coexist. pack hunting, indulging each other in their reasons for murder. cooking and eating together. sleeping in the same bed, touches growing more gradual. i don’t know. i’m reading hannibal rising and i just want hannibal to have everything he’s ever wanted and more and i’m too tired to go more into detail and get all philosophical about it and talk about all of hannibal’s trauma and how his specific needs can be found and met in will past his understanding of hannibal and how they could find balance eventually even though a lot of their relationship is built on instability and hannibal’s inability to love correctly without being violent and manipulative because that’s all he knows but he so DESPERATELY wants to be loved and thought fondly of by will and ugh! i just want them to work out and be happy and stable while still being able to be their true selves and build a life together and and and. banging my head on the fucking wall rn

[flameishstudios]

I just realized I never posted this but details in this edit!!!

So the first big thing is that from the beginning to the line right before the second Birdie it’s all clips from before their ascension (exept Veah’s art) and after the second birdie it’s all clips of them as Quixis

The first “my name is Birdie” is young Icarus,

“I’m trying to learn how to fly” is Icarus trying to learn how to be kind, it’s them helping Rae for the first time in Rae’s memory, the moment Rae described Icarus as staring to be kind to him

“I don’t know how to describe” is Icarus’s eye blood falling in their wack book. Specifically the Quixian pages because he doesn’t really know much about Quixis

“So many things” is a collection of clips from their villain arcs and “too little of others” is a collection of clips of them being happy with their family, their people

“He’s my rock” is a clip from their s3 end stream when Centross is comforting them because they’re scared to waste the eye potion

Also all references to Violet are in a glow purple cursive text and all references to Centross as in the same purple color, but it isn’t glowing and is a rougher font

“I felt free with him like I could be with him” are both drinking stream clips bc I love that stream and also they felt safe enough with him to get drunk with him and let their guard down

“And now I wanna be with him” is when they are reading the book Centross left them

“I’ve got eye on me though” on the eyes line Fable’s eye start to appear and flicker over the ends of Icarus’ wings

“It’d be the last resort” ‘It’d’ is in Athena’s colors because getting the powers from Athena is the last resort in their eyes

“I need to know myself before I fly” The “I”’s here are the last time we see the purple and yellow text for Icarus, also after this all the text is in a diffrent font with a yellow glow because it’s all Icarixis and they finally get to be themself (or atleast as much of themself as Quixis will let them be)

“I know there’s more than one place to call home” Home is Centross bc prison duo < 3

“Whether it’s people” people is in Rae, Centross and Athena’s colors

“Or a place” Place is the worldport because for the foreseeable future the worldport is their home, at least until they get to hand off the Quixis mantle to Sherbert and go home

GLITCH WARNING

Me when Birdie!!!!!