#it’s always either someone who doesn’t know how to bake

[gay-dorito-dust]

More pjo things that I’ve thought about. More or less things/ behaviours they only have towards you.

Percy would hate going back to an empty cabin, so he just drags you along with him instead.

He doesn’t like how void of life and laughter it is that sometimes he’d sneak himself into your cabin to join you if he couldn’t wait until the next day to see you.

Percy just hates being alone with his thoughts and stuff that he’s more then often doing anything in his power to not be on his own for longer then a hour, it typically never ends well and so he just tries to fill time by doing whatever he could with you in order to have his mind fixated on the new memories, and not the ones he’s still not ready to confront just yet.

Thoughts such as whether Luke was right (he was)

So yeah impromptu sleepovers at cabin 3 are a thing you do.

The gods ask far too much out of him, so when he has time with you, all he wants to do is either nothing at all or mundane things that reminded him that he was someone outside of being a demigod. So baking foods and dying them blue was a favoured pass time for you both before it quickly dissolved into a fight that ends with a really cute kiss.

You guys are sickeningly sweet to everyone but they can’t look away either because if they want to know what a healthy relationship looked like, they’d just look at you and Percy as he’s splashing you with water, meanwhile you can’t do shit because he can’t get wet unless he will himself to. You call him a cheater for this but find that you can’t stay mad at your water boy for very long when he’s giving you sea puppy dog eyes and a cute pout.

He’s even attempted to make you something out of the seashells he’s found amongst other things he’s found at the bottom of the lake, with some help of course, and would beam brightly when he sees that you’ve kept them in good use afterwards that he didn’t mind if a shell or two fell off because as long as you were using what he gifted you Percy didn’t care.

With Percy to be loved is to be a comforting thought, a guiding light in the bleaker moments and a tether to one’s own humanity.

Leo utilises his talents to make something for you that you end up having scattered across your bedside table.

He’s the kind to say ‘you want to kiss me so bad’ but the moment you do give him a kiss, whether it’s his lip, cheek, forehead or even his nose, he’s silent as a mouse and is looking at you as though he was seeing you for the first time.

This dude is a living furnace and a sassy bastard, so if you’ve got a lot to get off of your chest please let this man be the first to know and he’s more then willing to cradle you in his arms as you both chat shit on those that you don’t like.

Leo doesn’t even need to hear the whole story to know whose side he’s on because it’s yours and only yours! He’s in your corner no matter what, hell he’d even support your wrongdoings if you wanted him to and needles to say he’s the man who boosts your self confidence more than anyone else. Without a shadow of a doubt.

Also by the end of the rants your more then likely to be fast asleep as this man runs hotter then most and Leo will shamelessly admire you as you slept against him before feeling left out and joining you in your dreams. He’s a sweetheart and wherever you went, Leo will always follow.

With Leo to be loved is to be seen, thought about and cherished as though you were a treasure only found once in a lifetime.

Nico would tolerate you more than others.

He keeps to himself but he can be often found within your company as though he were your second shadow.

He’s weary of the people who’d come your way, but that’s mainly due to the fact that he’s been through so much and had much taken away from him unfairly, he’s naturally going to want to keep a tight grasp on what he still has while he could.

So needless to say he forms somewhat an attachment to you that Chiron and Mr D considered borderline worrisome considering the hod whom Nico was the forbidden child of. Yet they knew that there wasn’t much that can be done to undo what had already been done.

So when your on quests, Nico is more then likely to follow afterwards if he can get away with it.

If he can’t then he’s most likely to stay near your cabin -the only thing that he had of you- and waits for you to come back on your bed, the longer your gone the more likely you’ll find him fast asleep in your bed, making you smile at how sweet he could be underneath his hardened persona.

You knew the sweet boy Nico use to be was still in there, and he knew it too, so don’t be surprised when he comes back from travelling through the shadows to bring you something that would make you feel a little less shittier. He acts like it doesn’t matter but he just wants you to be okay and doesn’t like the idea of being in able to help you when you’ve been nothing but accommodating to him and his needs after everything.

With Nico to be loved is to be at peace with the silence and welcome it, for words tends to loose meaning when overused to the point it losses meaning. For nothing every proclamation of love has to be said aloud, when it can be said in a whisper also.

Luke is overly more affectionate to you compared to the rest of camp and it shows.

There’s an arm being tossed over your shoulder here, and a nudge against your side with his elbow here, with a sprinkle of his head resting against your shoulder for added effect.

It was as if it came natural to the son of Hermes to always be touching you somehow, as though he couldn’t go a minute without having a hand on you to guide you away from other campers when he wanted to show you something he was keen you’d like.

While sitting at tables that weren’t your own was a camp rule not to be broken, Luke would either save you a seat at his table or even joins you at yours on the odd occasion, much to the curiosity of the rest of camp.

So you knew for certain this was going to be talked about for a good while as he only smiles mischievously at those who wanted to know what was going through his mind when doing such a thing, all despite knowing that he’ll end up with extra chores to do because of it.

He’s very intuitive towards you and poetically knows you better then you know yourself on most days, so it’s not surprising when he’s taking you out of a situation that you find stressful and somewhere less crowded for you both, only to find that he’s set up a lovely little picnic for you as well as you both overlooked the lake in comfortable silence as you just enjoy the others company.

With Luke to be loved is to be known deeper then any ocean, revered with respect and to be valued more then surface level.

[wonkyjaw]

So one thing about me is that I bake a lot and don’t particularly like sweet sweet things so end up bringing baked goods places and pawning them off on people and there are some circles that then ask me for recipes if they like the thing but I have ADHD and can’t sit there and read a full recipe so when I write down recipes it’s a list of ingredients and then like a couple shorthand notes and usually random changes as I’ve fiddled with it scratched into the margins so writing a recipe down for someone else becomes this arduous process that hurts my brain and the long and short of it is that it’s 100% easier to just ask me to make it again for you please don’t make me write recipes please I’ll cry

[ifyourereadingthisblinktwice]

i need to stop forgetting things exist the fucking second they leave my field of vision. why is is impossible for two things to occupy my mind at once especially when im tired. like. i feel like a sim. i feel like actions are being canceled and i just. move on. and completely forget what i was doing moments before. i fucking hate it

[rqnarok]

thinking about being old man!logan’s little housewife...

headcanons - cws/tags: sexual content, mdni! old man!logan. dom/sub undertones. age gap. both characters are of the age of consent. unprotected p in v. 18+ only.

logan’s all worn out. there is no justification made on depicting how done he is with the world. he lives his days in an accustomed routine - dread crawling on his scarred skin - digging the soil for his own grave. 

when he meets you, however, the horror, the panic, and the terror begin to fade away from his blurry orbs—replaced by the sight of your sugary sweet smile. you kept him calm by easing down his drinking and self-destruction. and he just can’t deny you, not when his dick gets so fucking hard when you’re around.

you can’t help it either. the need to fix someone seems very familiar in your generation—so sentimental and at the same time, pragmatic. never accepting ‘no’ for an answer, including when he tries to back you down by saying “ya’ don’t want me, kid. i’m an old dog.” as if sunlight to a plant, it only motivates you. leaving him flushed red and burrows knitted after you whispered filthy remarks to his ear. 

up to the point where he finally tears down his prejudices towards marriage and puts a shiny ring on your finger. 

he turns a blind eye to anyone glancing at him weirdly at how much older he looks compared to you, his salt-and-pepper beard not helping either. when charles notices the changes in him—how he seems to smile more and how hickeys sprawled up on his neck—he just can’t help but make snarky comments about it. logan’s too old for you (or so charles told him), and logan finds himself balking at that. 

“if she doesn’t want it, she would’ve left already.”

he’s right. if you didn’t want it, you would’ve left him. oh, but you stayed. and not only did you stay, but you also took care of him. letting you eat out the palm of his hands. 

greeting logan when he comes back from his blue-collar work, cooking and baking his favorite foods, ironing his work clothes and spraying the fabric with a lovely scent, kissing his bloodied knuckles, putting the prettiest outfit for him as a show, warming his cock when he sits lazily on the couch, nuzzling his thighs while you wait for him to get harden again, and letting him have you anywhere and anytime he wants.

logan keeps a polaroid of you while he’s away. a reminder to himself that he has a home now. he’d keep it in his wallet or his jacket pocket or hanging it on the car’s rear-view mirror. how empty was he to be so full of you now?

he never thought he would live a life like this—like how it is supposed to be. without you knowing, logan added one or two hours into his shift so that he could earn more extra pennies. the money he’ll use to pamper you, to make you feel comfortable and content. let you buy anything you want—all things on your shopping list are checked out by the end of the week.

and y’know, he’s an old man who’s not as strong as he used to be. so you pay for all this hard work by burying your face in logan’s neck as you ride him on the sofa. his head tilts slightly to catch your red-kissed lips with his - logan breathes something about how good you’re making him feel, “such a good little wife f’r your old man.”

he loves to tease you—telling you that you’re making him feel younger than ever when he’s with you, “gettin’ tired already, baby? need me t’do it for ya’?” his murmurs get to you as his large palms cup your ass, getting a handful of the plush skin before guiding you up and down his girth. 

logan knows how tired you can be, especially when you start whining desperately like this, so he gives one or two light smacks for encouragement, “there ya’ go, kiddo. fuck. don’t stop now. doin’ so well, baby. so good.” 

how you always ask for kisses from him ignites that taboo, perverted part of him he did not even know existed. anything that reminds him of how needy you are for him — feels so fucking wrong. but again, it gets his dick so fucking hard, too. he cannot help but to give in. 

“bet no one has ever fucked this pretty pussy like i have, huh? need a real man to do it.”

he’s so fucking smug of himself since he had you. knowing those boys your age wishes that you choose them instead. but he’ll know that would never happen because when he says something like “look acha, drooling over an old man like me. gonna let me fill ya’ up, hm?” your walls manage to grip his girth tighter - squeezing him in so deliciously logan wonders what kind of a heroism act he did to deserve you. 

makes you do a little ‘fashion show’ for him in the living room, parading yourself wearing all kinds of clothes that he bought. logan spreads his muscular thighs wide as he reads the newspaper—and the sight of him wearing his glasses that rest at the tip of his nose is holy to you, waiting to be worshipped. 

you’d come out with a white lingerie that barely covers anything, “do you like it, lo?” whilst you giggle and twirl in front of him, you almost miss how he adjusted his seating position to palm himself through his trousers. telling you, “c’mere here, baby. lemme take good look at’cha, gimme some sugar.” 

by ‘taking a look’ he means hiking up the sheer cloth to inspect your glistening mound, “hm. such a perfect pussy you got here, sweet’art.” probing his thick finger on the wet slick, humming at the dirty squelching sound. the look that he has makes your legs tremble  - his untrimmed greying beard - his vague-looking face scars. 

oh, coming home to you is the best part of his day. always. he’d see you heating the soup you made earlier and loses his fucking mind. turning off the stove in quick movements before hauling you up in his arms. 

skin meets skin slapping fills the room and praises come out of his mouth so naturally, “f-fuck. gon’ stuff ya’ up, darlin'." you’re vulnerable and bare, you can’t even think when he’s got you like this. 

logan would intertwine his fingers with yours. placing them side by side to see the wedding rings. a legitimate reminder that you’re his and he’s yours—forever. 

“good little wife. my good little wife.” 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint.  A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none. 

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any. 

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute. 

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need? 

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir. 

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven. 

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago. 

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus. 

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy. 

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away. 

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home. 

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard. 

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube. 

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her? 

And god, how he would fuck her… 

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob. 

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.  

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of. 

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things? 

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all. 

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job. 

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up. 

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb. 

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for… 

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically. 

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present. 

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear." 

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways. 

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying. 

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?" 

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too. 

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty. 

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening? 

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress. 

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips. 

Mein.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin. 

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries. 

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams. 

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin. 

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined. 

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds. 

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for. 

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child... 

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...? 

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft. 

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go. 

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove. 

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…" 

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness. 

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had. 

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely. 

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog. 

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck. 

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content. 

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity. 

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women. 

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one. 

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in. 

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs. 

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him. 

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?" 

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy. 

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes. 

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets. 

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his. 

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise. 

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness. 

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

[blackbirdie1234]

Paul's Imprint

What being Paul’s imprint would be like.

A/N: Not proofread. Hope you guys enjoy this and let me know if you would like me to do the other pack members or the Cullens(what being their mates/bloodsingers would be like). I really appreciate all of the likes and reposts! Thank you all so much and I am glad you like my fics :)

Being Paul’s imprint would require A LOT of patience.

He has a soft spot for you, so his anger wouldn’t be taken out on you or directed much toward you, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t see his bad side. When someone in the pack pisses him off he usually gets upset and phases. They fight it out, and then he comes home. He is either still upset or wants serious attention. If it’s the former expect some attitude and him taking it out on basically everything else but you. He might be aggressive with things, slamming things down and being loud. You would probably need to give him some time to cool off some more before trying to comfort him. If it’s the latter then you will have to have a cuddle session, his favorite position is laying in the bed or couch with his head in your chest and you playing with his hair and talking about your day. Your voice soothes him and calms him down, so he likes it when you talk to him. He could care less what you talk about, you could tell him about your day, or how much you hate that one girl in your math class because she chews gum loudly, you could literally talk about anything and he would be content. 

Being Paul’s imprint means a lot of love and affection.

When he isn’t on patrol, he is with you. He will be on you and hugging you all of the time. Now if you have trauma with affection or just don't like to be touched he would 100% respect your boundaries, but he would try and find small ways to show and get affection. Like holding your hand or even just touching his pinky against yours when you are next to each other. He would find ways that wouldn’t make you uncomfortable and was still getting his needs met. He doesn’t mind showing his affection in front of others either, he could give less of a fuck if the pack teases him. He loves you and doesn’t care who knows it. At the beginning of your relationship, he was very careful, learning what you liked and what you disliked. He was also very subtle with his affection but he still craved it just as much as he does now. He would softly play with the hair on the back of your head while talking by the fire, small and soft touches here and there, he would DEFINITELY do that thing where guys softly touch your waist while moving behind you.

Being Paul's imprint means you would spend a lot of time with the other imprints.

You would probably be close with the other imprints. Having a werewolf boyfriend isn’t exactly normal. You might feel alone or lost a bit in the beginning. Paul was one of the first to phase, which means you most likely were also one of the first imprints. Especially if you knew Paul before the transition. Emily was one of the first imprints you met, she was so sweet and welcoming to you, and your bond turned into a sibling relationship. She treated you like family right away and made sure you knew that you were always welcome. You met the others as they became a part of the family and now you spend a lot of your time with them. You do a bunch of group things together, shopping, baking, cooking, movie nights, and of course bonfires. You all enjoy each other's company. The boys are on patrol a lot and it helps everyone get their minds off of missing them. 

Being Paul’s imprint means late-night texts and calls.

Again, the boys are on patrol any time of the day or night. When Paul takes the night shift he makes sure to update you and let you know that he is safe. He is also expecting the same from you. He misses your voice, especially when your schedule gets busy and you can’t see each other as much. Sometimes he’s able to slip away for a second to see you, give you a hug and a kiss and then he is back out patrolling. He does it more often if he is patrolling near your house, mainly so he can do it quickly before Sam notices that he is missing and makes him come back.

Being Paul’s imprint means he is VERY protective of you.

He is already a protective person, it doesn’t matter if it is his friend, family, or even a stranger. He will take a bullet for someone he doesn’t know, it’s just in his nature. For you on the other hand, he would take that bullet and then hunt the person who shot it down until they beg you for forgiveness for even daring to THINK about hurting you, all the while he is still bloody and hurt. His protectiveness also correlates with his jealousy. He is a very jealous person when he is in a relationship. Even though you are his imprint he still can’t help but let the green-eyed monster loose whenever another person hits on you or checks you out. He knew you were hot, but you were for his eyes only. Being a werewolf means having to control your anger, but Paul was never really good at that, so most of the time it was you who had to calm him down. You didn’t want your boyfriend to maul someone, especially not in public. You were the only person who could calm him down fully, you would reach for him with your soft touch and everything else would fade away. Sometimes all you had to do was give him a stern look and he would cool himself off not wanting to make you upset. It bothered you sometimes how angry he would get, you tell him all the time that he is the only one for you and he has nothing to worry about but he still lets his jealousy get in the way of reasoning. 

[ravisinghs-wife]

The seven + Nico and Reyna and their red flags ✼

warnings: not proofread, swearwords, lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: okay I'm sorry I didn't post for like two months, ngl I simply forgot that this blog existed😭

notes to the fic: reader is written as gn (one mention off y/n), but pls don't read Nico's part if u identify as female! :)

masterlist

Percy

he's always barefoot during spring and summer

you'll never catch him with shoes on because he things that they are "blocking the fresh air his toes need"

at least they never get that dirty because he can't survive five minutes without jumping in the sea

when he was younger sally had to force him wear shoes to school, to the parkt et cetera and he was always so angry at her after that because he hated it with all his passion

that anger quickly faded after she baked some blue cookies

after growing up he learned that he should wear shoes to school et cetera but the second he is at camp he gets rid of them

after you dressed it he delegated that he always washed them and kept them clean so there was no wrong doing it and that it's actually healthy for your feet

Annabeth

listen, I love annabeth

but she's always mansplaining

Like u could be talking about ur close family that she only met once and she‘d say something like „actually, i had the impression that…“

It’s so annoying

she doesn't even mean it mean or something

but it also could be just a conversasiation that she isn't even involved in and she'll just randomly pop up and mansplain the topic

jason

That boy doesn’t have any basic knowledge

Like he is at camp jupiter since he’s three or something

I‘m not sure if they even knew what they where teaching him

Like that boy doesn’t know algebra

You could be talking about something in history and how deeply that event infected the way society lives now and he‘d be like „what do you mean?“

And he’s serious

Everytime Percy and Leo make fun of him for not knowing something he‘ll run to you and beg you to explain it to him

Most of the time you make a bit fun of him too because a 17 year old boy who doesn’t know what the french Revolution was is kinda funny

He knows that you‘re just joking though

hazel

I love her but she's like one of the extra careful mom's whose world break when their child hears a swear word

every time you are someone near both of ou swears she has this weird shocked and impressed look and looks around the room

you had to stop swearing around her bc she always starts blushing and looks at you in awe

they don't even have to be the "bad" swear words, it could be something like shit and she'd still be shocked

you had to learn to find alternatives like fudge or fox

she made you browse for the alternatives to swear words for around two hours at midnight and made you subscribe to the mommy blogs incase they had "more cool little alternatives"

piper

she's a die hard romance book hater

she always gives you the weird look when you read one or even only look at one at the bookstore

like she doesn't even have a plausible reason besides that they "always have the same ending and are very predictable"

I mean she's right but still

when she was 14 she had an instagram where she just talked shit about romance books because she was bored

it's not even that she doesn't like reading or books that much, she just doesn't like them because they (as already said) have the same ending and because she gor sick of the perfect romantic ending after drew talked night in and out about it

you once convinced her to read your favorite romance book and she tried her best to be nice

she actually didn't find it that bad and liked the ending but she would never admit that to you

leo

that boy either doesn't shower for one week or takes two hour showers

it's a bit better in the summer but especially in winter he never shower because he "would just get dirty later again"

you have to force him too properly shower because he would just forget it again

and when he actually showers for once he takes two hour showers

but especially in summer he's just gonna swim in the lake and call it a day because he basically "got clean already"

frank

I love frank sm but he would 7 in 1 shampoo

he doesn't get why it's bad and insists that it makes his hair shinier

you try to explain it to him once but he just doesn't understand 😪

he also tries to convince you all the time that it's so much better than owning body wach, shampoo and conditioner

nico

is a pop music hater

he always has this annoyed look on his face when you play pop music

he always makes this disappointed dad sigh and says "again?"

nico sounds so disappointed

he secretly loves it about you tho

reyna

she's like a confused mom and never gets jokes

"what do you mean by that, y/n? I never do that"

you try to explain the joke to her but give up after 10 minutes

she's grumpy for the rest of the day because you wouldn't finish explaining it to her

eventually she gives her pride up and asks you again

and after another ten stressful minutes she finally gets it

she kept arguing that what you said doesn't make sense

[traveler-at-heart]

hi!! can I sneak a request here? I think this will be too common but nat and r always bickering in front of the team (they're together but no one knows) and then one day everyone was confuse because nat got sick and the other person who's sick is r who flops beside natasha and gave her a kiss while completely unbothered in the avengers common room and everyone's like 👁️👄👁️ "are we seeing the same thing?"

I loved writing this! Thank you for the request :)

You were constantly fighting with Natasha. Most of the team had a hard time figuring out if it was because you liked her too much or not at all.

Either way, they all tried to stay out of your way when it happened. Unfortunately for Sam, you’re both in the kitchen today, and he really needs to get something to eat.

“We’re baking cookies, wanna join us?” you say while Natasha adds milk to the mix.

“That’s nice” he says, approaching with caution. 

“I know, I can’t believe Natasha didn’t know how. Lucky for her, I was willing to show her” 

“Yeah, I’m so lucky” Natasha mutters between gritted teeth and you turn to glare, holding a knife that you were using seconds ago.

“What was that?” 

“I’m so… yucky. From all the eggs that I cracked”

“It was only supposed to be half a dozen” 

“I added a bit more”

“Why the hell would you do that, Natalia?”

“Because I can, that’s why, Y/N”

You groan, putting the knife away and looking at the dough that will no longer be useful. Before Natasha can catch what you’re doing, you grab a handful of flour and throw it her way.

“Seriously?”

“What you gonna do about it, Romanoff?”

Sam sighs, silently retreating back to his room. He can order takeout. And just to be extra sure, he locks the door and puts on his headphones. It’s none of his business if you two destroy the kitchen.

That’s how he misses the next thing that happens. As soon as Natasha cleans some of the flour, she looks at you, trapping you in her arms.

“No, Nat”

But she hugs you, making sure your clothes get dirty too, and when her lips meet yours, the feeling is so nice and warm that you forget you’re gonna have to clean the kitchen and yourselves.

“Fine, we’ll bring something else to my friend’s party” you say against her lips and she kisses you once more before smiling.

“How about a nice bottle of very expensive wine from Tony’s reserve?”

“You’re evil” you laugh, holding her close. “Not a word about it, Sam… where did he go?”

“Who knows” Natasha shrugs her shoulders, and then leans down to kiss you. “Now, get out of those clothes. I want to do things that are dirtier than this kitchen”

Natasha carries you to her room, while you giggle and hold her close.

—

Movie night is always a pleasant time, especially when you and Natasha sit far away from each other and don’t argue as usual. 

You usually hang in the back with Bucky, because you’re the only one who doesn’t mind explaining him all the references that go over his head.

Today, he’s away on a mission, so you take over an entire sofa and stretch comfortably.

“That’s my spot” Natasha says.

“Find another one”

“I like this seat. The AC doesn’t hit me directly and it’s far away from Sam so I don’t have to listen to his stupid impressions”

“Hey!” he says. “I make a really good De Niro”

“No, you don’t” everyone says at the same time.

“What’s in it for me?” you smile, crossing your arms. 

“Not getting your ass kicked to the point where you can’t sit anywhere else”

“Someone likes it rough” you tease her, and her smile makes you break. “Fine, we can share, but you’re giving me a foot massage”

“I am not”

The redhead sighs, but you still place your feet on her lap. For the first ten minutes, everyone’s tense, waiting for the fight to continue. But, to their surprise, Natasha’s hand is going up and down your leg, while you lean against her. 

Pretty soon, their focus is back on the movie. Until…

“Who’s snoring?” Tony says, looking around. He turns back and finds you sound asleep, your head now resting in Natasha’s lap. The redhead is running her hands through your hair.

“Looking for something?” Natasha snaps and Stark looks back to the screen.

You don’t wake up until the credits are rolling.

“Is it over?” you say, rubbing your eyes.

“I don’t know, we couldn’t hear because of all your snoring”

“I don’t snore”

Natasha scoffs and looks around, but everyone stays silent.

“Cowards!”

“I don’t snore. Come on, you didn’t finish that massage” 

But Natasha is already standing up, walking to her room.

“Get away from me. And go to a doctor, you’re gonna choke in your sleep one day” 

You laugh, following her to her room. Everyone else thinks you’re probably gonna bicker for a while longer, but all you’re planning is to cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

—

It’s a quiet afternoon, with Bucky and Steve watching a game while Clint is fixing an old radio.

But pretty soon, they can hear the familiar sound of two voices arguing.

“Pick one” you say, chasing Natasha. 

“They’re the same” 

“They are not the same” you insist, holding the paint samples closer to her eyes. “Look at them”

“I am. This is blue. And so is this one”

“Oh” you flip them, eyeing them for a second too long. “I’m sorry, Nat. I didn’t know you were blind. This is shappire and this is egyptian. Pick one”

“Are we repainting the common area or something?”  Clint asks Steve and Bucky, but they just shrug their shoulders. Like wild creatures, it is better to not look at either one of you when you’re arguing.

“Neither. I think green might be better”

“I am not going back to the store to get more samples so you can tell me they are both the same green!”

“Fine, I will. In fact, they won’t be samples. I’ll get the paint and you’ll like it”

She turns, finishing the conversation.

“At least wear a damn jacket, it’s gonna rain” when she ignores you, you groan, getting her coat and yours. “Honestly, Natalia”

—

It’s game night, another one of the traditions you’ve incorporated since welcoming new and younger team members like Peter.

You’re starting with charades and Peter, Tony and Bucky are on your team. 

The category is thrillers and you’re on the edge of your seat, waiting for Peter to start. He smiles real big and you shout.

“The Shining!”

“Yes!”

Silence of the Lambs, Taxi Driver, Jaws, Sixth Sense all come up and you guess them one right after the other.

“We’re leading by ten points” Tony says, looking at the iPad. You high five Peter, smiling as Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Alright, I’m next” Steve says and you have to cover your mouth to keep from giggling.

“Uh… pass” he grabs another paper and then another, and a third one. “Pass”

“I’m gonna kick your ass” Natasha groans, massaging her temples.

“Oh, I know this one” he says, doing the signal for movie.

“We already know it’s a movie, hurry up” Natasha looks ready to throw him across the room. 

Steve hunches over, his arms dangling low. He then jumps around, alternating between one feet and the other.

“Hunchback of Notre Dame. Uh… The flying monkeys of Wizard of Oz? Elephant man?”

“It’s King Kong” Steve says and everyone bursts out laughing.

“Are you kidding me?” Natasha says, while your team toasts. You’ve won, yet again.

“Better luck next time. And I hope you haven’t forgotten our little bet” you say, fixing the collar of Natasha’s shirt.

“What bet?” Clint asks and you both turn around at the same time.

“Nothing” 

You excuse yourself, going to the bathroom. The next game is Jenga, and you think you’ll pass, because there’s no way you can beat Peter. As you go back to the living room, you approach Natasha.

“Don’t be a sore loser, baby” you say, making sure no one can hear you. “I know the bet was that the winner gets to do anything they want in bed… but I do have a little peace offering”

You place your underwear in her pocket, smiling as she blushes. 

“Something to look forward to” you wink, walking back to the table as Clint starts the game.

Yeah, thinking about it, Natasha hadn’t lost at all.

—

The day is a bit dark, and gloomy. The morning was slow and the afternoon has been the same.

“It’s quiet” Clint comments, looking out the window as the rain keeps falling.

“Mhm” Sam agrees, sipping his coffee.

“A bit… too quiet, don’t you think?”

Everyone’s supposed to be at the Compound, and yet, there’s no arguing or sassy comebacks.

“Do you think they finally killed each other?” Clint says and Sam chuckles.

“Maybe. If the flu hasn’t killed Nat yet”

“Oh, she’s sick?” Clint feels bad for not knowing. “Maybe I’ll get her some soup…”

“Hey” someone greets from the door. You’re wrapped in a blanket, wearing one of Natasha’s t-shirts and holding a box of tissues. “Sorry, I won’t stay long. I’m just getting us some tea” 

“Us?” 

But you’re too tired to hear what Sam says. You prepare two steaming cups and drag your feet to the living room, Clint and Sam following close behind.

“Why aren’t you in our room, baby?” you say, sitting next to Natasha. You kiss her forehead and smile. “Hey, your fever’s down”

“I told you not to stay in my room. Now you’re sick too” she coughs, but nuzzles your neck and sighs. 

“Shut up and drink your tea, Tasha”

“This whole time, YOU TWO HAVE BEEN TOGETHER” Sam shouts and you make a face.

“Can you not do that thing with your mouth? The talking thing”

“But we thought…” Clint says, looking between the two of you.

“We thought you hated each other”

“Sometimes, because she can be a pain in the ass” you say, laughing when Natasha pokes your side. “Nah, that’s not true. I love her”

Natasha smiles against your neck, pulling you down to take a nap.

“Love you too” she says against your hair and you yawn.

Clint and Sam leave the room, as if they’ve seen a ghost. 

“Is everything ok?” Steve says, running into them.

“Cap, you’re not gonna believe this” 

[cameronspecial]

Can i request a Rafe x pogue! Reader of reader probably ignoring all his calls and texts and he shows uo at her house and ahe gets nervous because everyone can see his truck parked outside her house and she's rushing him inside the house

I Want To Be With You

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings: Underage Marijuana Use

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Rafe is probably the most surprised that he is dating a Pogue, but how could he not fall for Y/N when she is the only one who could see the full potential in him? He also never thought he would be needy for her either. “Come on, Baby. Why aren’t you answering your phone?” he groans into his phone as he is sent to voicemail again. His fingers go back to sending texts asking what she wants to do tonight. They all go unanswered. 

———

Y/N’s knee bounces as she stares at the buzzing phone on her coffee table. Thankfully, Kie, JJ, John B and Sarah are all too high to notice and Pope is too focused on his book to notice either. She really wishes she could get high with them to help ease the stress of keeping her relationship a secret, but she knows Rafe would get jealous of her using someone else’s stash. She couldn’t answer his calls because she wouldn’t be able to hide her excitement from them and it would warrant questions. Any attempt at getting them to leave has not worked. “You guys, my parents are going to be here any moment and they would kill us if they find you high,” she tries to scare them. 

However, their attention is focused on something outside the window. Sarah’s eyes narrow at the car, “Is that my brother’s car?” Y/N scrambles off of the couch and joins them. Of course, it is his truck. He’s about three hours too early, yet, it really doesn’t surprise her that he is. He always gets worried when she doesn’t answer and when he is worried, he gets clingy. “Uhh, no. That’s my neighbour’s truck. They have very similar license plates. I actually need to put the garbage out, so I’m going to go do that. I made brownies. Go eat them in the kitchen,” she excuses, running outside and sneaking to the passenger side of Rafe’s truck. 

She pops up from her crouched position, knocking on the glass to ask him to roll it down. “You haven’t been answering my calls, Baby,”  he pouts. He moves himself over the centre console so he is sitting in the passenger seat. He gives her a kiss on the lips. She shakes her head, “Because I’m currently hanging out with your sister and all of our friends.” “You spend all your time with them. What about me?” he whines, placing his head on her neck.

“I’m supposed to hang out with you at seven, Rafey. You are about three hours early.”

“Well, like I said, you weren’t answering my call. I thought you were hurt so I HAD to be early, so let me just turn my engine off and we can go inside to cuddle.”

“You know you can’t. Everyone is still inside. Why don’t you go get some snacks for tonight and come back?” 

The childish frown he gives her makes her sigh. She knows he is going to throw a tantrum if he isn’t in her warm embrace any time soon. “Okay, you can come in, but through my window. Let me go inside and distract everyone then I’ll open the window for you,” she proposes. His mouth turns into a massive grin, “My second favourite way to get into your house. You promise to cuddle once we are inside?” “Yes, you just have to wait until I chase the others out.” Y/N makes her way back inside to the kitchen. The empty tray of brownies disappoints her when she remembers that she could convince Rafe to make some with her. Maybe they could bake it into an edible. “Oh, no. All the brownies are gone, guess you have to go now. Remember, let Pope drive and don’t talk to your parents,” she chases her friends out of the kitchen and house. 

Once the door is locked up, she heads to her bedroom window. However, she is surprised to find Rafe already in her room on her bed. “How did you get in?” she pounders, kicking her shoes off to lie down beside him. His arms quickly engulf her in a hug, “When it comes to being with you, a locked window isn’t going to get in my way. I couldn’t wait to be with you.”

“God, you are so clingy. You couldn't even wait five minutes to be with me.”

“I am. And proud of it. You are the only person I ever want to be with.”

[tulip-room]

♡•◦Excuses◦•♡

Pairing: Suna x Chubby! Fem! Reader

Content: Suna’s little sister loves your sweet treats. That’s definitely why he’s in there so often

Words: 2k

a/n: This is part of my Sweet Treats writing series! So stayed tuned for the other parts. This is the second story in the series you can find the other one and the future ones in the post!! I hope you enjoy me adding to the Suna chubby chaser agenda <3

 “No, I’m serious Rin. It’s literally the best bakery I have ever been to. They don’t only have baked goods either, they have a deli with regular sandwiches and pretzel buns. It’s mouthwatering.” Suna’s sister exclaims trying to get her brother to agree to take her to the aforementioned bakery. He rolls his eyes with a sigh and starts putting his jacket on.

“Fine, but only if you’ll finally stop talking about it.” The two walk out the door, Suna following behind his sister. She seems excited and as much as he pretends to hate her ramblings it’s endearing and he enjoys making his sister happy. 

“Hello little Suna!” They’re greeted as soon as they walk in. “Who did you bring with you?” Suna looks up and has to take a moment to collect himself. Less than five feet away is the most beautiful woman he thinks he’s ever seen. She has flour on her apron and a bit of chocolate on her cheek, most people wouldn’t think she was his type. Most people were wrong, he lives for chubbier people. More of them to love, as people say. He hasn’t even realized that his sister was talking about him. 

“Yeah, this is my brother. Rinatarou?” She waves a hand in front of his face, she’s abit amused by the blush building on his cheeks and how quickly he froze when he caught a look at her favorite baker. Now she can’t say this wasn’t her plan, she knew her brother would love you. But she was pleasantly surprised to see she was right. 

Suna shakes his head and comes back to where the two of you are laughing slightly. Wow, even your laugh was pretty. “What can I help you with?” And suddenly his mouth is dry and he’s not sure what to say. He clears his thoat and looks at the menu. 

“Uhm…a…ham, cheese, lettuce, tomato sandwich on a pretzel bun. And whatever she wants,” he points at his sister who rattles off her order. He sighs and pulls his card out of his wallet. 

“Alright, I’ll have that right out for you two,” you say, handing his card back to him. Your fingers brush accidentally and Suna takes a quick breath in. His sister can’t help the laugh that escapes her mouth and tries to cover it with a cough. The two make their way over to a table still in view of the counter and the kitchen. Suna is pushed into a chair where he can see you as his sister sits opposite him.

“So,” she smiles at him teasingly. “Y/N huh?”

“Y/N? Is that her name?” He asks, a little distracted as he watches you work. His sister doesn’t need to turn around to see what has his attention. 

“Mhm, she’s single you know.”

“She is?” That got his attention. His head whips to his sister.

“Yup, complains that she needs someone to cook and bake for all the time. If only I knew someone who is hopeless at cooking?” She taps her chin as she looks at him. “Seriously Rin, if you don’t get her to be your girlfriend I will. I need her fresh baked bread.”

“Is that all this is?”

“No, I want both of you to be happy, she’s been very nice to me and you deserve someone as good as her. So man up and ask her out.” She says it a little louder than he likes and it catches the attention of the other patrons. He flicks her forehead with a frown.

“Don’t say it so loud.” He whisper-yells at her. Eventually their order gets called and Suna gets up to collect it. When you smile at him he thinks he died. He just gives you a small smile back. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, Suna.”

“Rintarou, you can call me Rintarou, it would get a little confusing with my sister anyway.”

“Okay, you’re more than welcome, Rintarou.” Did his name always sound that nice or was it just you who made it sound nice. Regardless he takes the food and sits back down.

“Oh my goodness, can you be anymore whipped?”

“You planned this.” He glares gently at his sister.

“You can’t prove that,” she shrugs with a smile and starts digging into her sandwich.

Day One

You weren’t expecting to see Suna again, at least without the company of his sister. “Hello Rintarou,” you greet him as he walks in and finish checking out a customer. They didn’t request a sandwich so you just had to measure out the cookies. He stood patiently behind the person. Once they leave it’s just you and Suna in the shop again. “What brings you in?”

He hadn’t thought that far. “Uhm..just.” He clears his throat and scracthes the back of his neck in a shy manner. “Just picking something up for my sister.”

“Oh, okay.” You start putting things in the computer. “Anything else? I already put her usual in.” You give him a kind smile and try not to think about how his cheeks turn slightly red at the action.

“Nope, that’s it.” You nod and head to the back to make the sandwich. When you come back you get his payment. “My sister really loves you- er your baked goods and sandwiches.”

“I’m aware, it makes my day to see her. She’s adorable, always going on and on about her brother. If I didn’t know any better I would think she was trying to set us up.” You tease gently and hand him the wrapped sandwich.

“Yeah, that would be silly.”

“Maybe, she did a good job selling you. See you later, Rintarou.” You wave as you turn to help the customer that had just walked in. He leaves the bakery with less money in his wallet and a blush on his cheeks.

Day Two

Once again the brown haired man came into the bakery without the presence of his little sister. “Hello Rintarou,” you greet him. This time he’s the only customer in the bakery so the two of you have time to chat before you make his order. “You know, if you come in everyday I may think you’re not just here for your sister.” You tease him as you ring up the order. Your fingers brush against his again as you take his card from him.

“That would be absurd Y/N. Obviously I’m here to treat my little sister while I’m in town.” He smiles and leans his arm on the counter as he rests his chin in the palm of his hand. 

“Mhm, of course.” You give him a smile of you own and hand him the carefully packaged sandwich. “Tell the little Suna I said hello.”

“What not going to say hello to me? Your favorite Suna?”

“I did say hello to you, when you walked in. And favorite? I don’t know about all that, the jury is still out on it.” You lean against the counter yourself. Suna takes the opportunity to wipe at the chocolate on your cheek that taunts him everyday he comes in. Your face grows warm and it’s your turn to stutter.

“Sure I’m not your favorite?”

You let out a small laugh and push his shoulder gently. “It takes more than some teasing to be my favorite. Goodbye Rintarou.” You wave at him as a group walks into the bakery. 

Day Three

Day three is when you call him out. He had to wait in line and there’s more of a crowd in the bakery than there usually is. Probably something to do with it being a Friday. You still wave at him when he comes in and he patiently waits at the end of the line. Thankfully by the time he gets up to the counter there’s only two more customers after him. He orders and stands to the side to talk to you when you become free again. 

“Sorry about that Rintarou,” you turn to him with a smile. He waves you off as you wipe your hands off on your apron. 

“You own a business, I would hope it’s not always empty.” He plays with the container of straws, spinning one around. Happy to see that everyone was sitting down enjoying their food. You allow yourself to lean on the counter as well. 

“Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays are my busiest.” 

“Makes sense.”

“You know the funniest thing happened yesterday.” He hums looking at you in confusion clearly wanting you to go on. “Your sister came into the shop wanting a sandwich. Consider me shocked when I told her you had already come in earlier to get her one. She looked just as shocked as I was.”

Shit. That was the first thing that came to his mind as he reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck. He looks away as his face grows red. “Did she?” He asks his voice, lifting up near the end of the question. 

“Mhm. Isn’t that funny?”

“Hilarious.” He was going to scream into his pillow when he got home and probably glare at his sister through dinner. “Would you look at the time, I have to get home.” He checks a fake watch on his wrist. 

“I think it’s cute that you’re using it as an excuse to see me. I enjoy seeing you too. Goodbye, Rintarou.” You wave at him as he races out the door covering his face with a hand. He still wasn’t used to how gently you would call his name in greetings or goodbyes.

Day Four

It was the last day of his visit, his sister had come in earlier to tease her brother over the situation from yesterday. You scolded her lightly and told her not to tease him too much or he might not come back.

“Like that would happen, he’s whipped your honor.” The two of you are still laughing when he enters the shop. What was she doing here? He remembers requesting his sister not show up today but he supposes he can’t always get what he wants.

“Hello, Rintarou.” Yeah, he’s done for if you keep saying his name like that. “Here to get something for your sister?” You tease and he shakes his head with a small smile. 

“Seems she got something for herself.” He looks at the drink and sandwich in his sister’s hands. Getting the hint she walks away after waving to you. 

“So, what actually brings you in today.”

“I’m here to order something for myself.”

“And what would that be?” You lean closer to him.

“Your number.” It was a surprise, not an unwelcome one though. 

“Okay, give me your phone. It’ll cost you though.” You hold your hand out for him to place his phone in your hand.

“What will it cost me?” He hands his phone over to you with a smile. 

“A date, a proper one.” You smile as you put your number in and hand the phone back to the dumbfounded man. You hear quiet clapping and see his sister smiling and giving you a thumbs up from behind him. He whips his head around and she pretends like she was eating her sandwich the whole time. 

“Deal. I’ll be back in a few weeks, you can cash your date in then.”

“Okay, see you then Rintarou.”

Bonus:

Suna smiles at his phone in between breaks. Now it wasn’t unusual for him to be on his phone during breaks in practice but it was a surprise that he all but ran to it. “Got a girlfriend, Sunarin?” Komori teases as he tries to look over Suna’s shoulder.

“Not yet, but hopefully.” He smiles as he answers. Komori can’t even tease him more because he’s not quite sure he’s ever seen the boy look so happy. Suna knew he would have to thank his sister some more when he visited again, many hours of listening to her gossip (and not pretending like he didn’t care) it would also result in getting his nails painted while they gossiped. They were chipping anyway.

rules masterlist

taglist: @sanaexus

[helenabuu32]

Finally thought of some more headcannon ideas! So here’s my hc’s for who in the Bucci Squad is good at cooking!

Bucci Squad cooking + bonus cooking for their S/O or crush!

Bucciarati:

Of course mother can cook

For real though, he’s one of the best cooks in the group.

I can imagine a young Bruno learning how to cook with his mother, and after she decided to leave it was something he kept up and just kept getting better at

Could also see him going out of his way to cook food for homeless or elderly people around the city just because he loves helping others so much.

He loves cooking for the rest of the squad and likes to have nights where everyone gets together and he can just make a bunch of different dishes and have a great time with his friends. He always make sure that everyone has at least one of their favourite dishes on the table, even if it means spending the entire day in the kitchen

When he has a crush or is in a relationship, he loves cooking for them and secretly learning their favourite dishes so he can surprise them with a romantic dinner. Candles, red roses, fancy wine and music, the whole classic dinner date thing.

Excellent cook, but not as good at baking. Still good though.

Mista:

This man burns water

He’s so bad. He tried to help Bucciarati once when everyone was supposed to come over and Bucciarati had to hide himself gagging. He then tried his best to fix the dish while Mista got distracted so he didn’t have to throw it out and make him feel bad…

…because of this, Mista thinks he’s a great cook.

Even when he makes something bad, he’ll try it and think it’s fine…I imagine he’s like Joey from Friends and will literally just eat anything

He cannot bake either, at all. Even if someone hands him one of those tubes of the pillsbury premade dough things that you literally just have to place on a pan, he will burn them

The first time he tried to cook for his s/o or crush he set the oven on fire

Proceeded to serve the meal after spraying everything with a fire extinguisher

They ended up ordering take out that night, but s/o or crush says next time they’ll help him because they can see how hard he was trying :)

Narancia:

Okay he’s still pretty bad but surprisingly not as bad as Mista

He’s not great with measurements and following instructions because he doesn’t read, so he kinda learned over the years what works and what doesn’t

He still often gets distracted or will put his headphones on and miss the timer, so he often overcooks or burns things…but every once in a while he actually comes up with something edible

He likes trying to help Bucciarati in the kitchen but gets frustrated easily and is known to just be like “fuck this” and go off and listen to music somewhere

He actually tries to bake for his s/o / crush the first time and the cookies look really good!

Until they take a bite and they realize he accidentally used salt instead of sugar…s/o / crush laughs it off and they make another batch together that actually turn out pretty good :)

Will leave the kitchen a mess for days after he’s done if nobody makes/helps him clean up

Abbacchio:

Boy can COOK

He actually might be better than Bucciarati…

But he doesn’t do it for everyone that often because he doesn’t like drawing the attention to himself. When he helps Bruno in the kitchen, everyone just kinda assumes that Bruno did most of the work. He doesn’t really mind as long as he knows deep down that people are enjoying what he made, he doesn’t care about being praised for it.

If the others try to help in the kitchen he gets annoyed and just starts drinking wine.

Will eventually get so fed up that he goes to the dining room table and continues to sip his wine while he listens to all the chaos going on in the kitchen so he doesn’t lose his shit at everyone (mostly Mista and Narancia)

When he first cooks for his s/o or crush he actually tries to pretend that Bruno made it or that he got takeout from a fancy restaurant “this isn’t even a date, shut up and eat.”

Obviously s/o crush can tell he made it. He forgot to clean up around the stove because he was actually panicking about them coming over. S/o/crush won’t out him but won’t stop going on about how DELICIOUS the food is…

…He lied, he loves the praise.

Fugo:

He’s actually a pretty decent cook!

He’s good at following instructions, so he’s naturally just good at following recipes. What idiot couldn’t follow a book….

…Oh. Yeah he’s not allowed in the kitchen when Narancia is there because once he got so angry at him that he broke a wine glass over his head.

When Narancia (and Mista tbh) aren’t there though, he really enjoys helping Bruno in the kitchen. He’s not on the same level as him or Abbacchio, but at least everything he makes ends up tasting good.

I feel like he would be even better at baking actually, because I find baking tends to use a lot more numbers and measuring out ingredients to exact numbers. It’s like science and Fugo loves that.

The first time his S/o or crush tastes his cooking or baking, it’s actually because he brought it “for the squad”. He’s too embarrassed to admit that he just wanted to see if they’d enjoy what he made. He gets all flustered when they tell him how good it is and leaves the room. But then starts bringing stuff almost every week for them to try.

Giorno:

I feel like he’s on the same level or a little better than Fugo…

He always had to kinda take care of himself, so naturally he learned to cook for himself as well

Unlike Fugo, he doesn’t go by the book as much. He just picked up from restaurants and over time learned what worked together

He does also enjoy baking sometimes because he has a bit of a sweet tooth, but just basic things like cookies, brownies, etc.

He doesn’t really help Bucciarati in the kitchen because Abbacchio just glares at him the whole time. Leone hates that he’s actually okay at cooking. Can this kid just be bad at something wtf.

If Abbacchio does get fed up and goes off to sulk somewhere, he doesn’t mind stepping in to help out though

When cooking for an s/o or crush, he has a similar approach to Bucciarati. He likes to make it romantic but in a more light-hearted way? Like he prefers more upbeat music, maybe even sitting on the couch and watching a movie instead of at a table. He will always make sure to sprout a beautiful bouquet of their favourite flowers to be on display nearby, though.

Trish:

Trish just doesn’t really like cooking

She doesn’t like how sweaty the kitchen can get, and hates how onions make her cry. Her mascara is expensive!

Just sits back and lets the boys take care of everything when Bucciarati has the squad over for dinner. Cooking is already stressful enough without 3 fistfights breaking out…

Although she doesn’t like cooking, she wouldn’t be terrible at it if she were in a situation where she had to.

She does on the other hand enjoy baking though!

She always loved baking with her mom growing up. Her favourite thing to make is cupcakes because it’s so much fun to decorate them with colourful icing and cute sprinkles when they’re done!

The first time her s/o or crush tries her baking, they’re just hanging out and she all of the sudden gets the idea to make frosted brownies. She has a lot of fun seeing the different approach they take to decorating them. They start to have weekly baking dates where they try something new every time, and sometimes brings the boys leftovers :)

Yaaaay another one done! I really do love making these. My asks are open so if you enjoyed reading this and would like to see my hcs for a particular situation, go ahead and let me know! I’m also always looking for more moots to talk about JJBA and other stuff with 💖

[sinstear]

more lawyer!abby pleaseeeeeeee

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐘𝐄𝐑!𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 | 03.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ PART ONE | PART TWO

mwah mwah, course baby. sorry it’s late, I got a little lost on what to add :( ♡

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby will always get a tie the same color as your own outfit choice if she takes you out for a meal. She either has to match you or will make a big deal out of it, refusing to leave the house until she’s found something that exactly matches.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby is thankful when you’re there to help her when she’s getting stressed out. Her job is hard, and sometimes she puts herself down when she feels like she can’t do anything to help someone, and that’s when you step in, quick to remind her that she is doing amazing and she can do it.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby owns many cars. Cheap and expensive, she doesn’t really care much about them but she is always thankful that they have tinted windows because she’s a risky woman, and no matter where she goes or what she’s up to, she can’t help herself when she slides her hand up your thigh, gripping the flesh tightly while in the middle of a phone call, enjoying the way you squirm on the seat and suck in a breath through your teeth, clenching your legs around her hand when they make their way to where you need her.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby who has fucked you in pretty much every car she owns. She simply doesn’t care about when and where. You always look so fuckin’ pretty and she can’t keep her hands off you. You could simply be eating an ice cream and that would turn her on, and end up with the both of you in the back seat of her car with her fingers so deep in your cunt that all you can do is grip tightly onto her expensive suit jacket, and bite down on her shoulder. Even though she hates it when you try hiding your pretty sounds.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby brags about you to everyone she works with or meets at a meeting. Shit, she doesn’t even care if its a new client she’s met, she will mention how it was you who helped her pick out a certain suit or it was you who picked up this new coffee she was trying. Abby brought you up in every conversation, even during the long hours she was sat setting up and helping with a new case. You were on her mind 24/7.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby spends a lot of free time looking at engagement rings. She knows she wants to marry you and spend the rest of her life with you, but sometimes she doesn’t know which ring to buy because in her mind, you deserve every single one and more.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby loves it when you cuddle her. There is something about having her face tucked in the crook of your neck after a long day, some old clothes on her body, a movie on the TV with your fingers running through her hair that has her content, comfortable, and warm. She hated being away from you for such long hours but she cherished when she could finally be home with you.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby enjoys when you cook her meals, but also adores being able to cook them for you after you’ve had a hard day at work. The woman will literally be by the door when you stumble in, hands already working on removing your coat for you and handing you a glass of wine while she waits for the food she prepared for you, to cook in the oven. 

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby who yes, will daydream about starting a family with you. It’s not something she’s ready to bring up in conversation just yet though in case you weren’t ready for it, but she’s always imaging what it would be like to come home, find you and your child in the living room, watching a movie or even in the kitchen, baking cookies or whatever you wanted to make that day.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby acts like a literal child on Christmas day when you buy her any kind of new book. She’s a book worm and that’s actually how she first met you, so it makes you happy when her eyes light up and she’s taking the fragile book from your hands with the utmost care and examining the cover, the back, as well as the pages inside.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ lawyer!abby has no shame in eyeing you up whenever you’re sitting on her office, neatly resting on one of the chairs opposite her desk. She doesn’t even hide the fact she wants nothing more than to either have you perched on her desk with her face between your thighs or have you bent over the wooden surface, and working her strap in your cunt.

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Confession Edition!)

(Section two everyone!!! When I have enough posts for both I’ll make a masterlist! I’m kinda surprised how quick it took for people to like the previous one— Thank you so much to the people who have reblogged/followed me!!!)

- Those years of hiding away from the rest of the arcade after his major fuck up gave him lots of time to think, and mellow himself out even, though that violent impulsiveness is still there when he gets frustrated enough.

- If you catch his eye, whether it be due to you being from Sugar Rush, an older game, or newer— Or if you two were a thing before the whole RoadBlasters disaster, he isn’t nearly as stubborn with his feelings as he used to be.

- He handles it far more smoothly, though his reach is more limited (I like the idea that he can’t necessarily leave Sugar Rush due to his disguise slipping without it so this will apply here), probably getting Sour Bill to invite you to the game after hours so he can commune with you more.

- If you belong to Sugar Rush it is a bit of a different story; it's more convenient for his intentions to pursue you romantically.

- He tries and more or less succeeds in being classy in his attempts at courting you, having a kind of classic way of doing so— Giving you various edible gifts he reprograms to your liking.

- Pet name galore, all candy themed. I don’t make the rules they just come to me in dreams/j

- Naturally keeps various things from you, including the mistreatment of Venallope by him and the rest of Sugar Rush, making sure everyone plays nice in front of you so you don’t notice how lonely the little girl is.

- Sugary as all hell, which is something one would expect from King Candy, who seems to never run out of ways to try to woo you whenever you come to his game.

- After like a year or two he steadily makes his intentions more and more apparent before going out and saying it out front after inviting you to a nice dinner at the castle.

- When you accept, my god is he delighted by the result of his patience and hard work (with a good degree of manipulation, knowing him.) Much like the life he was able to carve himself into this game, he has a sense of pride about your relationship.

- His over dramatic personality comes into play, whenever someone takes interest in you in front of him he’s ready to scuffle, raising his fists up to “defend your honor”.

- It’s silly, but endearing, backing his actions up with saying his intentions are true, giving you an overly heartfelt and mushy response that gets an eye roll from Sour Bill, well deserved.

- The way King Candy loves is… Cartoonish at times, over the top, oozing that jolly and wondrous persona he’s so desperate to display in front of others, especially you.

- Though he does have moments where he lets you in, those moments where vulnerability cracks through that hard shell sugar coating he’s put on himself.

- His self-absorbed tendencies are there, no amount of time could ever take that away from him, it’s basically hard coded into him, in and out of his disguise.

- He’s quick to explain himself every time there’s a slip; either from himself or one of the many Sugar Rush subjects.

- He doesn’t let his frustrations out in front of you if he can help it, leading you away from whoever messed with his plan, placing a kind hand on the small of your back and giving the guilty party a brief yet annoyed glare before softening his face up for you.

- In many ways, he treats you right— But there's always a nearly imperceptible wall between you two, which always has him on guard in some way.

- There’s a yearning he wants to indulge in, but there's far too much risk for him to do so— He can't possibly know how'd you react if you knew his little, well, not so little secret.

- As much as he loves you, it isn’t enough to truly fill you in on everything, though unfortunately for him, the term “lies always come to light eventually” definitely fits his situation as his unwillingness to let things go (literally) inevitably does him in.

(Pa'z ZHSTVU)

[oddaesthetin]

junhan is probably the type of boyfriend/love interest who:

- will ask you on discord movie or anime dates late at night when he’s done with practice and couldn’t sleep but is too tired to travel, and/or when he’s at tour

- LEGO ACTIVITIES. i’ve read from somewhere that he likes assembling models (idk how to explain it but when i read it i aGREED cause he just looks like that kind of person)

- mostly when he knows you need a break. he’s not that great with words so it’d be his own little way of keeping your mind away from what’s stressing you out.

- if you like baking, he’ll probably ask you to teach him ;;; he’s a really attentive guy so learning will be easy for him. after that, he’ll always have a cookie in his pocket to give to you when you two are out and about

- he’ll share his hair ties with you anytime anywhere 💯. if you let him, he’ll do your ponytail, too

- will also let you corrupt his punk-goth-emo aesthetic by letting you put those cute little and noisy keychains on his bag ++ will let you design/paint his nails (only if you let him do yours, too ;P)

- will also be your go-to stylist for whenever you don’t have the energy or doesn’t feel like dressing up

- since he’s not big on gatherings either, if he notices that your social battery is down he’ll pull the two of you out immediately for the sake of the both of you

- the type of boyfriend who stares at you with those two lil shy and googly eyes. as an introvert, when he stares, HE STARES. and you don’t even notice it most of the time, but other people DO

- aLSO, contrary to popular belief, i don’t think he’d be that shy or too much of a sub when he’s with someone he truly trust?? almost every fic i’ve read of him already established him as a puppy but gUYS, you know how they say it’s always the quiet ones 😉🙂‍↕️ (no but also bcs as someone on the introverted side, being comfy w/ people really just takes a lot of time but that doesn’t necessarily mean we cannot get accustomed to certain things 😭😭)

- will subtly kiss the back of your hand when nobody (NOBODY) is looking #alexaplayshyboybysecret

—

lol my render is done id hav to byebye. ill prolly just update this list after im done being occupied w other things. this will be it for now, c ya

[elvensorceress]

sunday sentences

@spotsandsocks @chaosandwolves @livinginsunnyhell @rainbow-nerdss @eddiebabygirldiaz @tizniz @bekkachaos @thelikesofus @hippolotamus @rainbow-nerdss @sofa-king-lame @ronordmann @sazanahashi @kejfeblintz @evaneds 💕 tagging anyone who wants to share something no pressure 💕

The last stop before Eddie goes to wait out his remaining hours in LA in his dark, empty house, is his tía’s. 

She meets him in the driveway and hugs him tightly. Too tightly. The way she used to when he was much younger. When everything was overwhelming, lonely, horrible, but he was devoutly holding it in, and Pepa would know he was breaking. She somehow always knew. She’d hug him like she wanted to lift the weight he was carrying and keep it from killing him.

She would cradle Eddie in her arms and tell him it was okay and that he wasn’t bad, he hadn’t failed, he has a good heart and he should have patience, kindness, forgiveness given to him. 

As long as he was in her arms, he wasn’t being crushed and wasn’t alone. And then he’d cry because she told him he could, that it was okay. Then it would feel a little better. 

Who would be able to listen to her reassurance and validation and not cry? Even now, it makes him want to crumble and burst into tears when they hug like this. The feeling is still there, the urge to just let go and break and sob until he’s empty and can’t any more. But he doesn’t.

He got too numb, too old, too jaded for even her words and affection to reach him. It was too hard to believe. They were just faded platitudes. His sins grew to be too great.

This isn’t the same. He’s not punishing himself. He needs to earn happiness. He needs to earn his son back in his life. This is Eddie’s choice. He doesn’t have to do this but he wants to do this so he is doing it. It won’t make everything better, but he’ll have Chris. 

He’s too hollow and numb right now to feel anything else. 

Pepa takes his chin in her hand. “Don’t let them tell you you are anything less than a good father. A wonderful, most selfless father. Don’t you tell yourself that either.” 

Eddie tries to smile genuinely for her. It’s sweet that she believes that and tells him as much. But he’s not sure can ever believe it. He changes the subject instead. “Can you do something for me?” 

“Anything, mijo. What is it?”

The word, the endearment makes his chest tight. He wishes, wishes his aunt could have been his mother. He wishes he could have had a mother who actually felt like a mother to him. Someone who at least attempts to not think the worst of him. “Will you—” He can’t say it. He can’t think it. But he has to. This is his choice. He’ll be happy. Eventually. He needs to be with Chris. He can’t miss out on Chris’ life. “Will you,” Eddie tries again. He just has to get the words out. They’re just words. 

But they make it real. Is that the problem? Is that why they’re so difficult?

He doesn’t even know why he’s asking. Why it feels like he needs to. Other than he knows Pepa and knows she’ll be able to look and reach and connect where other people can’t. Maybe because he knows she’ll be missing Eddie more than most people. Hopefully anyway? And she’ll know what it’s like. She’ll know what to say and how to comfort. She always does. 

Eddie hopes. That’s all he can really do. Hope. 

“Will you look out for Buck?” He finally says. Finally asks. “For me? He’s been. Baking. He likes baking and I’ve been assisting. And I don’t know— I don’t know what he’ll do. How he’ll do. Without. Assistance. He needs someone. He needs—”

He needs someone who loves him unconditionally. Everyone leaves him and Eddie has to leave him and he wasn’t supposed to leave him. They were supposed to be— God, he doesn’t know what they were supposed to be but it’s something. In each other’s lives forever? That at least? 

“I don’t know what he’ll do without me. Not— not me specifically. But without someone like me? Who looks out for him. And you always did that for me. Made me feel better. Loved me no matter what. And he— he needs that, too. I don’t know what he’ll do without that. I don’t know what I’ll…” 

I don’t know what I’ll do without him.

[demigod-shenanigans]

While I’m on the topic of Valgrace adopting a child, this is Sofía:

Some lore:

When Jason and Leo are in their late twenties/early thirties a demigod legacy leaves a baby at the entrance of the Waystation. The decision to adopt her is easy—they’d been thinking about adoption anyway. Besides, Jason has been the abandoned child before and Leo obviously isn’t fond of the foster system and knows exactly what it’s like to feel unwanted by a foster family. They’ve both felt so lost and alone and unloved in the past and they immediately vow that they’ll do everything in their power to make sure this little girl won’t ever feel like that.

They name her Sofía Esperanza Valdez. Sofía because it’s one of the names they both liked and Leo decides she just looks like a Sofía, and Esperanza obviously in honor of Leo’s mom. Jason is the one to gently suggest using it as a middle name, stating that if names have power, there’s nothing quite as powerful as hope, and Leo immediately starts crying. (He knew he wanted to honor his mom in some way. He just didn’t bring it up because he was terrified that the baby sharing a name with his mom after what happened to her might be bad luck. But Jason is right that hope was the thing that saw them through when nothing else would, making it a name that’s fundamentally very positive. Besides, Leo’s mom was so much more than her death. She was smart and brave and stubborn and loved with all her heart. She managed to find happiness, even in the difficult times. All of these are good things.)

Me and @queenjunothegreat have been waffling back and forth about this girl for weeks, there is so much lore I’ll probably need a lot of posts for all of it (or asks, if anyone wants to know anything specific please feel free to send asks)

For now, have some additional Sofía fun facts (under the cut so people who aren’t interested can scroll past more easily):

-She’s a legacy of Luna, the faded Titaness of the moon. Piper thinks it’s hilarious that wolf boy somehow ended up with a moon child and jokes about it a lot.

-When she wouldn’t sleep as a baby Jason would rock her while levitating up and down the hallway. They’re not sure why, exactly, but this almost always worked.

-Sofía’s first word is papa, which is not, in fact, the Spanish word for dad that Jason was going for but instead means either pope or potato (depending on how it’s gendered). The word for dad is papá, which is similar-ish but emphasizes the ending instead of the beginning. Adult Jason’s Spanish is decent but he got it mixed up which part needed to be emphasized and taught her wrong. Leo absolutely explodes into laughter when he hears it and it’s one of his favorite stories to tell for years. Every time someone asks about her first word he lights up like a Christmas tree. Jason is mortified but the whole thing brings Leo so much joy that maybe the embarrassment was worth it.

-Leo is always building her stuff to play with. Sofía is the kind of kid that brings some new toy to kindergarten/school at least once a week because Leo cannot tell her no for shit.

-Leo is usually the one who stays up at night with Sofía when she’s a toddler. Due to the whole moon child thing, she’s a terrible sleeper (good luck waking her in the morning) but Leo doesn’t really mind. He’s just tinkering away at some project that he’d probably be working on at that time anyway as his very awake kid toddles about and they’re both perfectly content with it. They fall asleep on the couch together watching TV the next morning, and Jason just smiles and gets a blanket to put over Leo’s knees.

-Her and Leo definitely bake together and it usually comes out well but the kitchen is always a huge mess after. One time she insisted her dad help her make a birthday cake for her papá’s birthday but Jason cannot cook or bake to save his life and it was a complete disaster.

-Sofía has no concept of fall damage. Absolutely none. Will climb up anywhere no matter how high and jump off with zero hesitation because there’s never been a time when her dad hasn’t caught her (either personally via flying up or with the winds). Leo is way more anxious about this than Jason, which seems strange until you consider that Jason is married to Leo and has had to catch him plenty of times in the past, but while Leo worries about Jason sometimes, he’s never really had to worry specifically about Jason falling from high places before. But obviously, unlike Jason, Sofía can’t fly.

-When she’s annoyed, she scowls in a way that’s almost comically similar to Jason.