#does this count as fluff?

[viperwhispered]

So we all agree that Jamil enjoys when he can nudge others to do what he wants, right? Like, one of the basketball jersey lines is about controlling the flow of the game and making others react, and beans camo has a bit of a similar vibe.

Plus like, the whole plan in book 4 of setting things in motion and having others actually take the decisive steps once he paved the way.

So, consider: Jamil nudging his s/o to being the one to actually act on his desires. Because yeah you're together, he knows how you feel about him, but it's just nice to get himself to feel extra desired and wanted, isn't it? Having you come to him, rather than him going to you.

So he does all sorts of little things he knows get to you.

Knows how you feel about seeing his bared arms? Casually pulls up his sleeves while cooking (if he's not in his dorm uniform already).

Or maybe he'll ask you to come watch his practice or a game, if he knows him on court is a weakness of yours.

The sight of his hair loose gets you weak? Oh better undo his ponytail and take his time readjusting his hair.

A million and one totally casual touches, he just happens to touch you in passing while doing his thing or while you're hanging out.

Similarly, he just happens to be close to you while talking, lowering his voice or using a particular tone that gets to you.

You like his more cocky, scheming side? Oh, why doesn't he tell you about a little something he just pulled off earlier (or is planning on doing), that'll give him a reason to hit you with that smirk and everything.

Sweet words from him are your weakness? Sure he can slip something nice and totally matter-of-fact into the conversation (when you're alone, at least).

Just, all those little things, until he can really see all that love in your eyes, that desire in your expression.

And the satisfaction he feels when you're the one getting close to him, when you're the one to turn those fleeting touches into something more. When you don't let go of him.

He loves pushing you like that.

And how easy it is to make you express your love to him? Well, that just tells of how much love you have to give to him, doesn't it? And how could he possibly not want to see the proof of that, time and time again.

[happybird16]

drabble that suddenly had to come out of me no matter what

Aot finale spoilers, talks of scars and wounds, self-doubt

“Do they ever hurt?” you ask softly, meeting his soft silvery eye with yours.

Levi shrugs unevenly in response, replying vaguely, “Sometimes I get phantom pains. Like they’re still there.”

Gently clasping his hand between yours, you bring his fingers to your lips, tenderly kissing all the little calluses and even the smooth, flawless skin at the tip of each of his fingers. You appreciate every little white knick of a healed scar, savoring the unique texture and history they hold. His nails are perfectly trimmed, and the long digits are almost bony, with knuckles jutting out from his skin and veins visible in trailing blue lines along his palm, resembling twisting rivers.

One by one, you kiss each and every finger until you reach the uneven stubs where his index and pointer fingers used to be. The area is still flushed a dark, upsetting red that makes your chest ache. Despite the passing years, the skin remains rough and sore-looking. Carefully, you lean forward, eyes locked to his. You hear his breath hitch as you oh-so-carefully press the softest of kisses to the stub of his index finger.

“D-don’t,” he breathes, shifting slightly in his seat in embarrassment. Something lingers in the soft grey-blue of his eye, something like embarrassment and shame. “They’re ugly.”

“They’re not,” you tell him, pressing another kiss to his shorn digit. “You’re beautiful, remember? No matter what.”

Levi takes a long, shuddered breath, his shoulders heaving with the strength of his sigh. It’s almost like he deflates a bit, the metal of his wheelchair creaking loudly as his feet shift. His face twists, the large now-mostly-white scar standing out against the pale skin of his cheek. His deadened eye can still move, instinctively tilting up to match the other as his eyes meet yours. “’m not,” he mutters quietly, hissing in pain as he shifts his injured knee. “I- I’m so weak now,” he confesses, his voice laced with frustration and pain.

It’s something he’s complained about quite a few times since the end of the final battle. Not only did he sustain injuries, but the end of Ymir’s curse had also extinguished the Ackerman strength flowing through his veins. He has mentioned feeling empty and hollow, almost fragile in comparison. His slower healing is evident from the still reddened skin of his mangled fingers.

Rising up from your knees, you press a quick kiss to the scar along his cheek. “We’re free now,” you assure him earnestly. “It’s a whole new world. We’re not soldiers anymore, and you don’t have to bear the burden of being the strongest. You have already proven your worth countless times.”

As you speak, your fingertips gently brush back the length of his bangs, exposing his forehead. With utmost care, you place another soft kiss right between his eyebrows, dissolving the tension held there. Then another. And another. Each kiss conveys a message of love and acceptance, a reminder that his worth extends far beyond physical strength.

Levi’s breath hitches again, this time from a mixture of relief and vulnerability. The sound is a bit wet, and there’s a telling moisture welling in the corners of his eyes. He struggles to find the words to respond, mouth opening and closing several times as his shoulders stiffen once again. His eyes, one vibrant and the other dulled by past wounds, seek yours, their depths reflecting the emotions he struggles to express.

“‘m not,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with a mix of pain and self-doubt. The fingers of his free hand instinctively reach for his injured knee, a reflex born from habit and discomfort. His voice sounds so small and hollow, “I- I’m broken.”

“No,” the word comes out sharper and louder than you intended, startling the both of you. “No. No you aren’t.” Your hand gently caresses his, providing a sense of comfort and reassurance. “Strength doesn’t define you,” you emphasize, your voice filled with conviction. “And your injuries don't either. I know you feel different now.. powerless.. but you possess a strength that transcends physical abilities. It’s in your resilience, your compassion, and the love you carry within you. That strength will always shine through, no matter what.”

A long, shuddered breath escapes Levi’s lips as he absorbs your words. His shoulders, burdened by the weight of his perceived weakness, begin to ease. The metal of his wheelchair creaks as his feet shift unsteadily. He swallows heavily, eyes falling from yours to stare at the fabric of the dark slacks covering his thigh.

Pinching his chin between your fingers, you urge his gaze to meet yours yet again. “We’re building a new life together,” you continue, a hint of playfulness entering your voice. “We’re not soldiers anymore. You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders. Instead, let’s focus on chasing out those rude customers from our little tea shop. And if you ever say anything self-deprecating again, well, I’ll be there to shower you with kisses until you realize just how incredible you are.”

Levi’s lips curve into a small, vulnerable smile, the barriers of self-doubt slowly crumbling away. The moisture in his eyes finally spills over, tracing glistening paths down his cheeks. “You would,” he whispers softly, his voice filled with fondness and amusement.

[bleper]

Fuck it happened again. The writing demon got me.

I won't force my nonsense upon ye

Fluffy bs ahead

(do not be afraid to give judgement upon it, I'm still figuring this writing stuff out and input is fabulous)

The crackle of flames from the newly born fire filled the small clearing. The rustling and clanking of armor being removed, alongside the sound of weapons being sheathed and maintained. The chirp of crickets and the quiet noise of the creek moving by. The scrape of wood on metal from Wild and his cooking, the soft stamping of feet from Wind running around camp, the quiet murmuring of Legend and Wars speaking of plans for the next day, the sounds of his pack settling in for the night and readying themselves for bed. He wondered for a moment, how different his life would have been had he stayed in his small town, and casting that thought aside as soon as he could when Wild called the others to eat. Twilight was willing to do everything all over again, as many times as it took, to have a quiet evening like this with them again. Hylia knows they need it.

[an-au-blog]

College Shuggy au wholesome idea for after getting together or idk because i feel like Ogan is mad i won't let them be happy lmao

Buggy being afraid to do anything that has to do with his nose... he's always wanted a nose piercing but didn't want to draw more attention to his nose. One day he offhandedly tells Shanks that he used to think of a septum piercing. Shanks jumps at the idea. He tries to convince his boyfriend, but he's afraid to go get it done. He's scared that people might find out that this was his real nose. But when Shanks found out the reason why he wouldn't go get his nose pierced, he offered to do it for him. Buggy agreed, not knowing Shanks had never done it before.

Shanks started watching tutorial after tutorial, making sure he knew everything. It was, to Buggy's surprise, quite painless and pretty well done. Then Shanks drops an "yeah, can you believe it's my first time too? I'm pretty talented dare I say" and Buggy doesn't know whether to faint, shout at him or start stressing. He just freezes up for a minute trying to digest what was said to him...

[roses-dreams-andthorns]

Raaaah Genshin fic ᴵ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃⁿⁿᵉʳˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱᶜˢ ⁱᵗˢ ˢᵒ ᶠᵘⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃⁿᵛᵃ ⁱˢ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ!!

𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝙴𝚖𝚘 𝙱𝚘𝚢!

xɪᴀᴏ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ʜɪɢʜ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴀᴜ

𝓧iao was seen as a "violent emo boy" around campus. Not many approached him for his intimidating looks and cold personality, glaring at anyone who even bats an eye at him, like a threat to end them if they continue to stare longer... He was mostly calm, but could get a bit violent. He saw others as worthless insects that do nothing but get in his way. If someone were to accidently bump into Xiao, he would glare at them intensely, like he would murder them. Though his views changed when he met... you.

𝓨ou were a new exchange student, coming to this school from your old one after an incident, causing your parents to take you out from that school permanently. You were just like him... cold and reserved, but not violent. You were defensive of yourself, only resorting to violence if you feel you are in true danger, which a few bullies nearly got sent to the hospital after daring to pull out a knife on you. You folded them like paper, as if they were a mere fly in your hand, you crushed them. You also weren't an idiot. Your grades were amazing, from what Xiao had heard. Despite your coldness, you still offered help to others, and you were kind. All the other students liked you.

𝓣his could be considered love at first sight for Xiao, as soon as he laid eyes on you the first time, he felt like you were the piece of the puzzle he was missing. He felt more... complete. You had everything Xiao could ever want in a person. You were smart, kind and brave. He wanted to approach you... but how could he? He was far to nervous and anxious to even get even a centimeter closer to you. For a while, he stuck to watching you from afar. Every time he saw your face, his heart skipped beats. No doubt he was in love. It was the first time he felt like this, he never fell in love before seeing you. Heh, to think his first love was someone who was the same as him... but at the same time, completely different... It was funny.

��very now and then, you'd notice Xiao staring at you, hiding behind corners or doors, whenever you did, he always seemed to have a slightly red face, and if he noticed you staring back, he'd put on a cold expression again and look away. You knew about Xiao from others, but what you were seeing wasn't what they told you, saying he was extremely violent and would beat you up on sight. To you, he just seemed shy... You always wondered why he was watching you like that, and to be honest, you got more curious about him the more you caught him staring, the urge to approach him growing stronger. Eventually, you started trying to do so. He seemed a bit nervous when you first did so, jumping a bit when you came behind him, and said 'hi'. The people around you during the time of this interaction were worried for your safety when they saw you around Xiao, but were shocked to see Xiao didn't seem to be... violent or angry with you. He just... spoke to you with such... nervousness. He had a completely normal conversation with you, besides his stuttering. They immediately thought you used some kind of magic to turn Xiao into such a... nervous wreck. He seemed so warm towards you, and so shy... it was shocking for anyone, really. He always stuttered or spoke really quickly to you, his face just remaining so red... you almost thought he was having a fever or something, when in reality, he was just worried that if he spoke to you for too long, he may just blurt out the words "I love you!" randomly at you, because that's what he really wants to say to you. He wants to tell you all his affections and feelings for you... but he can never get the courage to do so yet. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hey guess what? CLIFFHANGER HAHAHAHAHA

tbh I just wanted to get something out there since I've been so inactive in the fanfic department and my boss (my brain) keeps telling me I need to start spitting fics out like a printer but at the same time I've been super duper tired and had writer's block hahahhaaa! Fun!

[r4inyclouds]

Crying, sobbing, gurgling 😞

Bucky’s metal arm has touch sensors. They’ve just never been calibrated properly. The soldier learned only what was important to him on the field, the cold hard metal of a gun and how much pressure to use when pulling the trigger.

Steve notices this, as he helps Bucky settle in to his new life. He sees Bucky touching the soft flannel bedsheets first with his right hand, then with his left hand, brows knitted in deep concentration.

Uncertainly, Steve asks if he doesn’t like it, if it is too warm or too soft—

“Soft,” Bucky picks up the word from Steve’s ramble. He lowers his head and looks at the pastel sheets between his fingers, and repeats. “Soft.”

The cotton tee, the woollen cardigan, the denim pants, the mesh sneakers, he gently rubs each textile between his fingers with both hands. He does the same when in the kitchen, running his fingers lightly over the coarse heads of a cauliflower, the pockmarked rind of an orange, the sharp stalks of rosemary, the glossy skin of a plum.

His vocabulary recovers more with time, and whenever Steve asks how it feels, he can give a few extra words — firm, smooth, hard, sharp, rough. On the occasions he says the word soft, his whole expression relaxes and all the lines soften, and Steve wishes he could swathe the man with everything soft and fluffy just to keep it there.

They sit down to watch TV after dinner. lt’s their ritual. A time when they sit together silently — when Bucky gets used to being in the same physical space, without feeling the pressure to make conversation. It seems silly but Steve has seen the difference it has made, from Bucky wedging himself into the other end of the couch, to now relaxing next to him, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they reach for the crackers on the table.

This has been a particularly long day, Steve having just returned from a 3 day mission where he barely caught a wink. About ten minutes into the soothing documentary about red pandas, he is fast asleep. He wakes to something brushing against his hand, light and tremulous. Then something a little cooler and a lot harder does the same, and he realises what it is.

Bucky snatches his hands back when Steve opens his eyes. He says guiltily, “Sorry.”

Steve reaches out and rests his palm over Bucky’s metal fingers. “How does it feel?”

Bucky searches his face warily, and then he relaxes. Steve feels a light tickle as the small metal plates whir quietly under his hand.

“Soft,” Bucky answers. After a moment, he adds, “Warm.”

Steve threads his fingers through the metal ones, and hold the hand close. After a little while, he feels the metal fingers curl slowly until they rest, ever so gently, against the back of his hand.

“Tingly,” Bucky suddenly says, out of nowhere.

Steve smiles and answers, “Same.” He points to his chest, “Here.”

He can see the concern and confusion as Bucky glances a few times at his ribs.

One day, Bucky will understand what that means. Steve looks down at their linked fingers and runs his thumb along the metal plates, drawing a slight shiver from the man beside him.

This is a good start.

[killerpancakeburger]

Sleeping Beauty

Gif by @no-one-fights-alone

SUMMARY: The sleeping beauty is Soap hehe. You weren't supposed to fall asleep in the rec room, but you did. When you emerge, there's someone snoozing in your lap.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Fluff, first kiss, confessions, light/non graphic smut: dirty talk, friction, Clingy!Soap, Civilian!Reader, Smitten!Soap AND Smitten!Reader. Part of the Moaning and Blushing Soap Agenda.

WORDS COUNT: 1.8k

A/N: My thanks to the fanartists who draw Soap alseep, giving me inspiration :') been obsessed with this piece.

It was never your intention to doze off on the rec room's couch.

However, the combination of the coziness of the sofa, the bone-deep tiredness you accumulated over the work week, and the delicious warmth radiating from Soap's body eventually defeated you. The rowdy Sergeant  had always displayed a tactile kind of friendliness, but lately he was glued to you, downright clingy. 

Another person would have been irritated by this behavior quickly enough - his teammates from the 141 made it pretty clear, teasing him frequently about it, and jokingly pitying you. Nonetheless, you didn’t mind, at least outside of the bursts of heat that would overrun your face from time to time. Just when you thought you were used to him, one brush of his fingertips or one gaze from his piercing blue eyes would revive the fire in your blood. 

But just like with most things, you couldn’t say no to Johnny. Not to mention, you were seriously touch-starved; had been your whole life, to be honest. To have someone apparently addicted to the feel of your skin was like a heaven-sent gift.

This was how you ended up sitting way too close to him on the couch, thighs touching, his burly arm thrown carelessly on the backrest behind you, as the task force was enjoying some TV before heading to bed. Between vaguely paying attention to the movie, keeping up with the guys’ conversation, and fighting your own mind to forbid it from obsessing over how burning his leg felt against yours despite the barrier of your respective jeans, you were plenty busy. At least until you fell asleep without realizing.

Filled with confusion, you sluggishly blink at the half-light illuminating you. The lights have been switched off, but the TV provides enough brightness for you to figure out your surroundings. The room is silent and empty, save for the murmur emitted by the television, and your lap feels strangely heavy.

You lower your eyes to figure out that mystery, and immediately supress a yelp of surprise by pressing your hand against your mouth.

John Mactavish in the flesh is right there, sleeping like a baby. 

You can’t help but drink in this one-of-a-kind sight; you've never seen him asleep before. Never contemplated him looking so peaceful, so tranquil. There's an inherent vulnerability that comes with catching him sleeping. 

He's laying on his stomach, the side of his face pressed against your thigh, grabbing it with one hand. The way his cheek is squished by your leg is both funny and adorable. Low but regular snores escape his parted lips.

His mohawk is as ruffled as hair that short can be, and now that you’re observing it, you’re tempted to stroke it, to find out whether it is as soft as its owner. You ponder over that dilemma for a minute, biting your lip, before giving into temptation. Tentatively ruffling the top of it at first, terrified of waking him up, you gain in confidence as his hair proves to be delightfully smooth. You run your hand through the strands carefully, your touch as delicate as possible, removing some stray locks from his forehead as you go.

Eventually you stop, taking in the room around you, and thinking about how this situation can’t last. Soap really needs to reach his bed. You peek at him again.

There's a self-indulging part of you that very much desires to let him sleep, keep him in your lap and stare at him for hours. With how heavy he feels, you’re not sure you could get up even if you wanted to.

“Why'd ye stop?” he rasps, voice made hoarse by drowsiness, tone surprisingly whiny.

You barely stifle a screech, completely taken aback by his awakening.

He shoots you a look so indignant, you'd think you woke him up at 3 a.m with a bucket of ice-cold water. That, or he's a petulant child you’re waking up for school.

“Sorry…?”

Why you are apologizing, you don't even know. His expression somehow manages to make you feel guilty, so you lift your hand and caress his hair again. 

His eyes instantly close at the contact, like a cat. A pleased, satisfied “Mmmh” leaves him, as a deep rumble escapes his torso, like a purr. A blissful smile stretches his lips, sending a pang to your chest.

“Soap.”

“...”

“Johnny.”

“Mmh?”

“You need to get to your own bed.”

“Nooooo.”

He proceeds to turn his head and bury his face in your lap. Next thing you know, the hand squeezing your thigh releases you, only to sneak behind your back and grab your waist. The other slides under your legs to seize your knee.

You end up well and truly trapped in his grip.

“M great ‘ere.” he retorts, muffled by your body.

His hot breath sends tingles over your skin, and the motion of his lips against your pants provokes a throbbing between your thighs. You feel your cheeks’ temperature rise dangerously. The fact that you two are alone together is both a blessing and a curse. You’re going to give Gaz and Ghost a piece of your mind for abandoning you like that.

“Soap,” you sigh, trying your best to sound unaffected, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can’t stay here all night.”

“Can't I?” 

The cheekiness in his voice manages to be both irritating and arousing.

“John Mactavish,” you scold, attempting to sound menacing.

“Could spend tha whole night between yer thighs, bonnie.”

Yep, that's it, your entire face is on fire. He's never been so forward before; your chest feels like it's about to burst.

Unfortunately for Johnny, your annoyance exceeds your embarrassment. This explains why your next course of action is to take hold of his mohawk and yank. 

Face finally unsticking from you, he lets out a noise that's half a grunt, half a moan, and fully obscene.

Astounded, turned on, and just a bit sheepish, you stare at him in bewildered silence as he returns your gaze, cerulean eyes wide, cheekbones and the tips of his ears bright red.

You only meant to remove him from your lap - cross your heart and hope to die. And roughen him up a little in the process as payback, but that was counting on the fact that his pain tolerance must be way beyond the average mortal's.

As you stay frozen in place, he pounces. Next thing you know, he got you pinned against the backrest, hands on each side of your head, hovering over your lap.

“Can I kiss ye?”

His voice suddenly turned so husky that the question comes out more like a growl than anything else.

“W-what?” you stutter, convinced you heard him wrong.

“Can I kiss ye? Please?” he insists, pouting.

The “please” has the effect of a punch in your sternum.

“I… you… uh.. “

His face is way too close to yours, his gaze way too intense for you to do anything else but combust on the spot.

“We shouldn't”, you mumble, looking anywhere but at him.

“Aye we can, fraternization is authorized between military and office personnel.”

That has the merit to make you look back at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“How do you..?”

“Ah checked”, he asserts like it's evident.

“You're really putting me on the spot…”

You pivot your head to the right to relieve yourself from his piercing blue eyes. That doesn't seem to deter him at all, however, as he presses his forehead against your temple.

“Well, ye tend tae run away when ah flirt wi’ ye…”

His lips brush against your cheek as he talks.

“So really, this is all yer fault. Yankin’ mah hair like that-”

“MY fault!? You’re the clingy bastard who stuck his face into my lap-”

Outraged, you face him abruptly. He must have predicted your reaction because he backed away enough to avoid a headbutt.

“Very nice lap.”

The compliment leaves you unimpressed.

“Not really,” you correct automatically, your self-consciousness deeply ingrained.

He doesn't lose his smug smirk at that.

“Oh? Need me tae demonstrate?”

His hand leaves the backrest and slips between the sofa and your leg. He grabs your thigh and lifts it slightly, then slowly trails the tips of two fingers from the edge of your ass until the back of your knee, sending suggestive tickles all over your lower body.

You stare in anticipation, voice stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Bonnie? Ah'm not hearin’ a no, but ah'm not hearin’ a yes either-”

“Yes,” you murmur.

He tilts his head questioningly, smile teasing.

“Wha’ was that? Didn’t catch-”

“I said yes, you-,” you assert, riled again, loud enough that he cannot pretend to have missed it.

His mouth presses against yours almost immediately, so eager that your back hits the backrest. You close your eyes and interlace your fingers behind his neck.

His hands feel everywhere at once, like he can’t get enough of you. As for you, the accumulation of sensations threatens to overwhelm you, so you clench your hands into fists to hold on, one desperately clutching the other's wrist.

Lost in his embrace, you forget yourself. At the feeling of his muscular thigh between your legs, you grind against it thoughtlessly.

Soap reacts instantly, abandoning your lips for a moment, despite you chasing after his.

“Humpin’ my leg, ae? Ye naughty girl… ah can give ye so much better than mah leg.”

Regardless of his comment, he pushes back against your crotch.

“But if that's what ye want… ah'll give ye anythin’. Everythin’ ye want, baby. Ah'll be so good to ye, promise.”

The sweet vows falling from his filthy mouth makes you hang onto him tighter, as if you were trying to fusionate your two bodies.

“...Everything,” you reply softly after kissing him some more.

“Wha…?”

Taking Johnny by surprise is not something that you manage often. But oh, how the view is worth it.

He withdrews a bit, face flushed, mowhawk tousled, gaping, eyebrows lightly frowned in incomprehension.

“What if I want everything? All of you?” 

You cup his cheek affectionately. Your own boldness surprises you, but this whole situation feels like a dream anyway - maybe it is one -, so you might as well make the best of it. Soap has never been one to be stingy with compliments, so the least you can do is return the favor.

“You're amazing, Soap. You’re so brave, and smart, strong, selfless, and goodhearted, caring… and you have the prettiest eyes I've ever - mmh.”

He seemed pretty captivated by your words, listening religiously, until something snapped and he crushed his lips against yours.

After making you dizzy, he releases you, beaming. You remember hearing Price calling him “sunshine”. He's always been luminous, but now he's downright blinding.

“I love ye. IloveyeIloveyeIloveye.”

He chants fervently while covering your face in ardent kisses.

“Ye don't have tae say it back,” he adds hastily afterwards, like distressed he'd scare you away.

“Ye don't have tae say anythin. Ah just… can’t contain it anymore…”

“I love you too,” you cut in.

The words came out more easily than you expected. Almost naturally. It makes sense in a way - you’ve been enamored for a while after all.

You two seal your mutual confessions with an enthousiastic kiss.

BLOOPERS

[mistress-riddle]

thinking about cuteness aggression but with james and sirius.

james adores cute things. he's the type to see a cute plushie and immediately buy it because he likes it and he likes having something soft and nice to hold. so surely it's no surprise that he takes a likeness to your cuteness except what you should've realised beforehand was that he was most definitely a squeezer. and with his toned arms from all his athleticism, it was sure to knock the breath out of you every time you succumbed to one of his attacks. luckily, there is a pattern, his cuteness aggression strikes when you're in oversized (his) clothes and if your cheeks are full of a sweet treat. he just thinks it's so cute how soft you look and before he knows it, he's captured you, mid speech, in his arms and giving you an affectionate squeeze as he rubs his cheek against your own, cooing softly about how you're the sweetest and most adorable person to ever exist. he doesn't release you until the next morning when you need to go to the washroom, although very reluctantly because he enjoys being cuddled up in bed.

sirius has a different way of displaying his cuteness aggression and you're quite sure it has everything to do with his spirit animal. he gets random urges to nip at you when he thinks you're looking extra cute. his favourite places to leave a little bite are on your cheeks and thighs, your most supple areas that he adores. he just can't resist it, and it surely doesn't help your case that when he's in one of his episodes of gently nipping at you, you let out the most adorable and delightful giggles he's ever heard that just spurs him on to continue his ticklish attacks. he's obsessed with you and just loves leaving little marks to show how you grab a hold of his heart. (although he's absolutely on board if you reverse it on him and start biting him instead)

[ditzyclown]

@amimuu woe, fluff be upon yeh

[callsign-mimic]

Nikolai gives the best, most bone crushing hugs.

The man is a big, Russian bear. Well padded, strong as fuck, and delightfully hairy too boot ❤️

Imagine the satisfaction of hearing (and feeling) your entire spine crack and pop the first time he wraps you in a tight bear hug. And the amused chuckle from him as you go limp in his arms, groaning in complete bliss.

He would be delighted that you would seek him out every time your back pain became unbearable, squeezing you tightly before laying you down and rubbing your sore muscles. His heart would soar when you feel safe enough with him to fall asleep under his touch.

And the feeling of waking up in his arms for the first time would be more than enough for you to never want to leave.

[tofics]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write something about dean reacting to you getting your 🍒's pierced or him even finding out that they have been. Totally totally okay if not LOVE your work 🫶

Eeeek, my first request ever!!! 🤩 For that alone I'm inclined to make this as perfect as possible, but due to post-holiday brain-rot I can make no promises about the actual quality of what I'm about to produce. 🙈 I immediately had two ideas when I read this, so you're getting both.

Version 1 is just funny, whereas version 2 has a slight bit of angst to it, still a funny ending though. Hope you enjoy! 🤗

Warnings: nipple piercings, bare titties, exposing your 🍒's in front of strangers (willingly), some bleeding, canon typical violence (monster death)

POV: Dean finds out you got your nips pierced.

Version 1 "Sam, don't! He could be the shapeshifter, for all we know!" Dean pulled his brother back by the jacket. "A - a what?" The man in front of you stammered, his eyes blown wide in fear. You quickly hushed him. "It's okay, just get in there!" You were convinced this guy wasn't the shapeshifter. You knew it in your gut, but you knew that explanation wouldn't fly with Dean.

The four of you quickly pressed into the small bathroom. Dean had his gun pointed at the guy's throat, who was nervously eyeing the weapon. "It's okay", you assured him in a hushed whisper. "We'll get you out of here. Just give him the spoon, Sam." You nodded at the younger Winchester, who in turn started prodding his jacket. One pocket, another, then a quiet curse.

"I must've dropped it!"

You glanced at Sam in disbelief. Dean grunted, though he didn't take his eyes off of the stranger.

"Now what?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't have anything else silver on me. Do you?"

"I got lots of silver bullets," Dean growled, still clearly convinced that the poor soul trapped in this bathroom with you was the monster you were looking for. The man yelped quietly.

"Not helpful, Dean," you hissed, but the hunter just grunted.

"You got any better ideas?"

Silence filled the air as all three of you pondered over your current predicament. Then a lightbulb went off in your brain.

"I do, actually."

With swift movements, you handed your gun over to Sam and then began pulling your sweater off.

"Uh - what are you doing?" Sam stared at you like you had lost your mind and even Dean was glancing over at you as you began peeling your top upwards.

"My nipple piercings are made of silver," you explained casually. Sam's eyes grew wide while a vein popped out on Dean's temple. The man you were trying to save looked like he was trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. "If Dean's bullets are the only other silver thing we got, then I don't see any other way than this. I'm not blowing some guy's brain out just to be on the safe side," you continued.

Your top went over your head, leaving you in nothing but your bra from the waist upwards. Sam's face had a funny color and Dean looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. His eyes briefly traveled down to your exposed cleavage, then quickly flicked back up to your face. "You can't be serious," Sam cut in.

"About my nipples being pierced or the piercings being silver?"

"About letting this guy touch you."

You brushed Sam's concern off with a tut. "Oh, hush. Don't be so prude. Now, go on," you said and undid the clasp of your bra with swift fingers.

Three loud inhales sounded as you revealed your boobs to the room. Sam's eyes immediately went towards the ceiling. The stranger briefly glanced at your tits with a pained expression before following suit with Sam, mumbling something about how surely, all of this just had to be a weird dream. Dean, however, took a good long look before a smile whisked across his lips.

"When'd you get this done?" He whispered with an appreciative tone.

"Couple of months ago," you replied, smiling back at him. "You like it?"

"Like it? Sweetheart, I-"

"Guys," Sam interrupted, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

"Right, right, sorry." You reached for the man's hand who jumped when your hand touched his. "Go on, dude. Just put a hand on it so we know you're good."

The guy made no move to do much of anything, so you gently lifted his hand to your chest until it made contact with one of your piercings. "Just a dream, just a dream," the man mumbled with his head still turned upwards and away from you. "Maybe I'm a shapeshifter too," Dean mumbled, his eyes on the man's hand pressed to your boob.

You grinned in reply. "See? He's good." The man's hand showed no signs of injury as you lifted it off of your chest again. "Now how about I get dressed again and we go find the actual son-of-a-bitch?"

Version 2 Sure, people warn against getting body alterations done under the influence of alcohol all the time. It's sort of an unwritten rule, the kind of common-sense one is just expected to have. But as booze tends to do, it prefers to link up with mischief instead. Common-sense is just so boring. Such a goody-two-shoes. The nay-sayer of all genius ideas. And clearly, that's what getting your nipples pierced is: a genius fucking idea.

At least so you thought last night while out and about with Jo. The two of you had teamed up in an effort to drink your shared sorrows away: you'd just come back from yet another hunt during which you'd felt belittled by Dean yet again, and Jo was in the midst of another heated fight with Elle about being allowed out for a hunt at all - again. Each dismissal had lit the fire of injustice within the both of you, and while your first few drinks were meant to quench the flames, they had the opposite effect, acting like fuel instead.

Soon, both you and Jo were slurring your respective rambles about your 'suppressors'.

"Just isn't fair." Jo slammed her fist down on the bar top, earning herself a quick glance from the bartender.

You shook your head woefully. "It isn't. They just don't see us. It's like we're invisible. Or babies. Invisible babies."

Jo pointed her finger at you. "Exactly! Invisible babies. But we're not! We're grown women, god dammit! Women! Would babies have boobs like that?" Her finger swayed from your face to your cleavage, followed diligently by the guy who sat two seats down from you. Your chin dropped to your chest as you glanced at your own boobs before meeting the eyes of the sleazy guy two seats over. A sluggish grin crawled over your lips. "Nice, aren't they?" A toothy grin appeared on the other patron's face. "Sure are, baby, sure are," he called back, causing you to look at Jo with triumph in your eyes. "See? He agrees too. No baby would have boobs like that."

Jo nodded, her head bobbing up and down in a wobbly fashion. "Cause he sees us. Not like my mom. Or Dean." She scowled, then downed another shot the bartender had dutifully lined up for you at your signal.

"We jus' gotta find a way to show 'em," you slurred. "Way to show how badass we are. Hmm." You nodded to yourself like you'd just said the most profound thing.

A moment of silence passed between you two girls before Jo's face suddenly lit up. "I got an idea."

As genius as it had seemed to you four shots in, the next morning, you weren't so sure anymore that piercing your nipples had been a genius move. It did look amazing (one glance in the mirror in the morning after waking up confused why your nips felt so damn sore had convinced you of that easily), but you still needed some convincing about the practicality of it as you got dressed and put on your clothes for the day. It proved as your first challenge: a bra was immediately out of the question after feeling how tight the material pressed against your sensitive and raw skin. You threw on a large, comfy t-shirt instead and paired it with an even larger sweater. Oversized clothes to the rescue.

As expected, your drinking spectacle of last night didn't go unnoticed by either of the boys. Sam's "Whoa, you look rough" got quickly followed up by a dry snort from Dean at the sight of you. "Jesus, you and Jo empty half a liquor store or something?" You only grumbled something unintelligible as a response while you fixed yourself some coffee from the small breakfast spread your motel offered.

While you nursed your coffee, Dean and Sam made a plan for the day. Their mission yesterday had been a bust - the empty factory had, in fact, not been the hiding place of the shapeshifter that the three of you were after, which left it still roaming about. You didn't partake in the planning process, partially due to your hangover, but mostly due to the fact that you were still hung up on your exclusion. For your own safety. Dean's reasoning had felt like a punch in the gut. Did he still not trust your abilities?

"Hey." You were pulled back to the present by fingers snapping in front of your face. "You with us?" Dean's eyes were searching your face as you zeroed back in on him. You grunt for a response had one of his brows raising, but he didn't comment on it, instead pulling you aside when the three of you headed out towards the parking lot.

"Are you okay?" You knew that look. Dean's scrutinizing gaze roamed over your face to look for the subtlest of clues. You'd made your protest heard loud and clear yesterday, and you read the subtext in his question with ease. Are we okay? You inhaled deeply as you stalled to answer. You were still upset with him, but you didn't have it in you to discuss his views on your involvement during hunts in your current state. Your head was pounding too much, and your nipples faintly felt like someone was holding a lighter to them. "Yeah. I'm okay," you responded with a sigh. Dean looked like he was about to object, clearly not buying your answer, but just then, Sam called out for the two of you.

Genius fucking idea. You gritted your teeth as you sprinted after the shapeshifter. Of course you'd end up in action the one day you didn't wear a bra. As if chasing supernatural beings wasn't challenging enough, you were now forced to awkwardly press your arms under your boobs for support as you ran down the damp alleyway. Because of your makeshift-bra, your gun was holstered between your hands right under your tits, aiming directly forward. It wasn't a safe way to run, nor a comfortable one, but you didn't have time to ponder either of those facts. The shapeshifter was getting away, and you couldn't let that happen.

You saw it turning a corner a couple hundred feet ahead of you and dashed after it, tits squeezed together in front of your chest like they were your main weapon and not your gun. The fabric of your shirt rubbed over your freshly pierced nips like sandpaper on wood and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself focused on the monster chase instead of the pain.

When you skid around the corner, you found the shapeshifter trapped between yourself and Dean on the other end of the back alley. It's head spun back and forth between you and him like a trapped animal and for a moment, it felt like time had frozen. Your eyes briefly flicked over to Dean, whose brows were furrowed in concentration and determination, and he shook his head at you ever so slightly.

The flush of anger inside your belly was hot and instant, yet before you had time to react, a loud shriek echoed through the alleyway and the shapeshifter launched itself your way.

It all happened so quickly that you acted more out of instinct than on rational thought. The kicks and blows to your body barely registered before a gunshot rang through the air and the monster's lifeless body dropped to the ground in front of you.

You stared at it, panting. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like fire being pumped through your body. It took you a second to register Dean's voice through the ringing in your ears.

"Hey. Hey. You okay? Are you hurt?" Hands were gripping you by the shoulders and you were spun sideways. You blinked a couple of times as Dean came into focus in front of you, concern etched into every fine line on his face. "Talk to me," he urged as his eyes feverishly scanned you up and down. You shook your head faintly, still dazed. "I'm fine." You'd taken down the shapeshifter yourself. You'd done it. You'd kicked ass.

A slow smile spread on your face as the realization set in. You had taken down a shapeshifter all by yourself. In front of Dean, no less. Now he had to see you.

"We got it, Sammy. Yeah. It's done. Uh-huh. No, she took it out." Dean glanced over at you as the two of you walked back to his car. You were still smiling smugly ear to ear. Dean looked like he'd been forced to eat a lemon whole.

"What d'you think? Of course not." He growled into the phone. You could imagine Sam's question without having heard it. You let her come? Dean had ordered you to stay in the car of course. But then you'd seen the shapeshifter run by. Who in their right mind would've stayed in their car at the sight?

"Uh-huh. Yeah. We'll meet you back at the motel." Dean hung up. Anger radiated off of him in quiet, shaky waves. Under any other circumstance, you would've been quaking in your boots right about now, wary of the storm that was about to come your way any second now. But not today. Today, you were flying high, fueled on by your win.

Dean settled into the driver's seat, but didn't start the car. Here we go, you thought. Speech incoming. Yet it didn't come. When you turned your head to look at him, you didn't find Dean staring you down, but frowning at your chest instead.

"You're bleeding."

Your own forehead crinkled up as you looked down on yourself. Two deep red spots were starting to bloom on your chest, right where... Crap.

You quickly slung an arm over your chest, covering up the two spots. "I, uh. It's fine." Though it felt anything but. You hadn't noticed it in the moment, but the monster had apparently struck you in the chest, right across your boobs. Your fresh piercings had seemingly not appreciated that move in the least. Now that you had been made aware of it, your nipples felt like they were on fire, pain striking through each boob like a spasm.

Dean's jaw tensed. In one swift move, he leaned in and plucked your arm from your chest, exposing the bloody spots on your sweater that were slowly growing in size. You could see his frown deepening as he examined your injuries. Warmth crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

"It's not fine. What did he do? I can't see puncture wounds. Why are you bleeding?"

Whatever triumph you had felt just a moment ago had ebbed away and was now being replaced by the icky sticky feeling of shame. You turned your head so he wouldn't see the embarrassment coloring you the same color as the spots on your sweater, but Dean spoke your name in a soft, yet stern voice.

You knew he wouldn't let this go.

You sighed deeply. "I got my nipples pierced." Your voice was barely above a murmur. Heat blazed from your cheeks and pain throbbed in your wounded nips.

For the first time ever since meeting Dean Winchester, he did not hit you with a quick comeback. The lack of a snarky reply was so jarring that you looked back at him, despite the embarrassment shining bright in your cheeks like Rudolph's nose.

Dean's face seemed to be frozen in a state somewhere between surprise and amusement. You stared at him for a moment before scoffing. "Just get it out." His eyes flickered from the bloody spots on your torso to your eyes and back, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Get what out?"

"The comments. Whatever you're dying to say. I know you've got some stupid shit already cooking in that brain of yours," you scoffed, and as if on cue, mischief glinted in his eyes.

"Actually," Dean started and flung a casual arm across your seat. "I think it's kind of hot."

The lack of reprimand caught you off guard so much that you could only stare at him.

"But I am gonna need details. Was it Jo's idea? Or yours?" Dean flashed a widespread grin at you and started the car. He was clearly enjoying himself.

You could only roll your eyes and groan.

"You know, I'll have to check when we're back. See how injured you are. Patch you up," he continued, the grin now stretching so wide that it almost went from ear to ear.

"Not a chance, Winchester."

Dean only snickered in return.

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[omi-boshi]

thinking of little omi wanting a dog but his parents tell him he has to earn it because it's a big responsibility for someone as young as he is. so, he sets up a piggy bank to save up for adoption fees. he doesn't tell his parents about it because he wants to show them when he's saved up enough money.

surely if he has the money that means he's responsible enough right?

in the following months, omi sets aside a fraction of his daily allowance to put into his piggy bank.

it's slow-going until his siblings find the piggy bank labeled with "dog savings" in omi's messy scrawl. they're so charmed by their baby brother's antics that they slip in their own spare change behind omi's back.

they never tell him of course because knowing their brother —their sweet and earnest little brother — he would want to do this on his own.

by the time omi's 10th birthday comes, his piggy bank is practically bursting at the seams. he holds it tightly in his little hands as his family sings him a happy birthday.

when it's time to blow out the candles and he has to make a wish, he lifts up the piggy bank and tells his parents how he's been saving up the past few months. that he has enough to pay for the adoption fees. that he's 10, and he's a big boy now, ready for big boy responsibilities.

"i'm responsible enough for a dog now, right?" he would then ask, eyes bright with earnest hope he tries so hard to tamp down just in case they say no. his parents would exchange surprised looks followed immediately by shaking heads and laughter. lots of laughter. omi is rightfully confused. he frowns.

are they laughing at him? the thought makes him flush in embarrassment. his dad leaves the room, still laughing. when he comes back, it's with a box that's almost a little too big for omi. the birthday cake lays forgotten, candles melted, as omi looks curiously at the box in front of him, then to his parents, and then his siblings, and then back to the box.

his older brother nudges him to open it and when he does, omi doesn't know what to do with himself. the akita puppy yipping at him in the box was too much for 10-year-old omi to bear that he starts bawling.

he's hugging the puppy to hide his tears, and in the background he hears cooing and more birthday wishes from his family.

see, his parents had always intended to give omi a dog the moment he asked. omi rarely asked for anything so whenever he did, his parents were always more than ready and excited to give it to him. however, this time, they waited until his birthday because, admittedly, they had a hard time thinking of what to get him.

it seems they made the right decision watching their son pet the akita in quiet awe. they're happy that their little boy loved his birthday present but when they see his dejected little pout a little while later followed by a sad, "i saved for nothing then..." they knew they had to make right with him (not really but what is omi if not their precious youngest).

and that's how omi ends up with not one but two puppies for his 10th birthday.

[lostreverb]

--

"looks like you need another dye job..." you say softly, examining kai's hair. his chestnut roots had begun to overtake his faded blue hair, the color almost resembling a light purple.

he had his face situated in your chest, arms fitted around your waist like he was afraid to let you go. to any outsider you'd look like a normal couple. and at one point you were. a time feeling so far, so different from the present chaos you weren't even sure if it was real.

kai's behavior was purely self-serving. you were just a stress ball, a toy for him to fidget with, holding off his descent into madness. none of this meant anything... at least to him.

but as you watched the cult leader, his eyes closed, expression tense even in his resting state, the impulse to soothe him grew. he was just so angry... all the time. he never really had the opportunity in life to be anything but.

"why d'you stop?..." kai muttered, the tone of his voice resembling a grunt.

broken out of your thoughts, your eyes focused onto the sight of your fingers tangled in his stringy locks. you had been unconsciously massaging his head, touching him without permission, for who knows how long.

"i.." you exhaled, fear taking the air out of your body. you were lost at what to do next. kai loved to play mind games. was he taunting you? about to punish you for crossing boundaries?

suddenly, kai's hand wrapped itself around your wrist firmly, sensing you pulling away. betraying the fear he had instilled into you, you took a breath and returned to running your fingers through his hair, seeing the wrinkles in his face slowly dissipate and his body relax against yours.

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath

[birdy-babe]

I like to theorize/headcanon that Stolas’ “do you know what I want?” Monologue will eventually be mirrored by Blitz. Like when he confesses or when their relationship is real and healthier.

So… I wrote a lil thing for it. Do with this what you will

The actual monologue by Stolas:

“Do you want to know what I want? I want to know what it’s like to not be alone. I want to be someone’s someone. I want to feel wanted, but like In a romantic way. Like I’m standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting ‘Harriet!don’t get on that train! It’s going to London and I cannot be without you!’ The point is I just want someone to care if I stay or go. I want someone to want me. To want to see me, to hold me, to look at me and think: ‘you’re the only one I want. I desire to hold you and talk to you, never let you feel so…’ You! Why are you here? I don’t want you here, go home please! Let me not feel so sad”

My Headcanon mirror monologue:

“Look stolas, it took a while but I… I figured out what I want. you told me what you want- to not be alone. And… god dammit I think I want that too. I think I want you to be my ‘someone’ or whatever, and in some pansy-ass romantic way not just… for fucking. Like, shit- okay, like if you were at some dumb train station, and it was raining or whatever, and you were running off to some fucking placed called ‘Log-bog’-“

“London, my dear”

“Whatever- I’d… fuck Stolas. I’d tell you to stay. Maybe not at first. First I’d probably yell at you because I’m a mess and I don’t know how to handle my own emotions. And then I’d call you shitty names, really shitty ones that I don’t actually mean, all because I know you deserve better than me. So It wouldn’t be like your shitty rom-coms. But fuck it- the ending would be the same? I’d tell you not to go. Because fuck- I don’t really want to be without you”

“Blitz I-”

“No- don’t Interrupt- if you interrupt then I’ll start thinking about what all this means and I’ll change my mind and jump out your window or kill myself or something-“

“Go on”

“Fuck it- Stolas… you’re the only one I want. Okay? You make me want to do some gay shit like hold you- and I actually fucking like talking to you. So I want that- I want to talk to you. I never want to let you feel like that again. I was a coward at that stupid fucking party. I should have said it back then, but I hated myself for making you feel so sad. But fuck it- that’s why I’m here now. If you want me to be. I want you, Stolas”

[embrosegraves]

𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘

Just a lil something I thought of and couldn't get out of my head :P I hope you enjoy <3

Max Verstappen x Reader  “If you can justify the purchase, then you can buy it for me.” Sugar Daddy x Slightly Reluctant! Sugar Baby

very brief google translated dutch (it's like 2 thing near the end)

You weren’t sure how you managed to get to this point in your life. One night you were working at your local club, trying to make ends meet with three jobs. You needed to pay for rent and utilities and food and the ever looming University degree you had begun studying for. You never thought you’d ever get to a point of financial comfortability, because the situation definitely wasn’t the most stable but it was comfortable. 

At first you thought he was just another rich snob who wanted to impress his mates with the amount of money he could spend on a single night. And to be fair he kinda was. He just also happened to be the one that sat with you while you worked the bar, listening to your woes of being a uni student who needed to work more than one job throughout the day on top of going to class.  

Now though, almost exactly 3 years after first meeting him, you couldn’t believe what you were looking at. 

“I’m not letting you buy that for me, Max.”

“Why not?” He was almost (definitely) pouting. 

“Because I can buy my own laptop? And besides, my final year is almost over, I can get it after.” 

Max looked at you unimpressed. “The one you have now is falling apart. You need a new one.”

You grabbed his hand and slowly led him to a bench that was outside the store you were just standing in. “My love, I adore that you want to get me a new laptop for school, but you cannot justify spending three and a half million dollars on a laptop for me. I don’t care if it’s Swarovski, I don’t care if it’s the best laptop in the world. I don’t need it.”

It was always like this between you and Max. He wanted to buy you the most insanely expensive things just because he could, but you always told him not to. Looking at him in front of you, his face sporting an almost unnoticeable frown, you sighed. Keeping hold of his hand in yours, you moved your free hand to cradle his face. 

“I will let you buy me a laptop-” His face lit up, “on the condition that it cost no more than eight thousand. I know I cannot get you to spend like a regular person, so that will be the cap on how much you spend on my laptop.”

“You never let me do anything fun.” Max was pouting again, but you could see his eyes were happy. 

“Well, that’s tough Schat. If it makes you feel better, after you get the laptop because I’m not budging on that, you can buy me whatever you want-” You held your hand in front of him before Max could interrupt and start celebrating, “but you have to be able to properly justify the purchase. Which means no more mindless spending on things, okay?” 

He pulled you in and wrapped his arms around you tightly. “As long as I still get to spoil you, like you deserve, then I will agree to your conditions.” 

You felt as he placed a kiss on your head before you moved back. You gave him a kiss on his lips and smiled at him. 

“Go. I can tell you’re just wanting to find a laptop to get me.”

He laughed and kissed you again before grabbing your hands and leading to a different tech store for your new laptop. “Let’s go then, Mijn Liefje!”

Translations (Provided by Google Translate) Schat = Darling Mijn Liefje = My Love

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Advanced Interrogation Technique: Dog

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