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livlaughloveluke · 5 months ago

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NSFW ALPHABET WITH LUKE CASTELLAN…

warning! this fic contains- a lot of nsfw headcannons, all varying. soft!dom!luke. afab reader.

18+ mdni !

(also keep submitting your guys nasty thoughts i love reading them lowkey & do you guys want dark luke version?)

A = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

luke’s all over you after sex, holding you in his arms and asking dozens of questions to make sure you liked it and aren’t hurting. he massages your plump skin, trying to soothe any future soreness and because he likes to touch you in a non-sexual way. unless you want it be, of course.

B = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite part of himself would have to be his hands. he loves to make you writhe and squirm on his fingers, curling and pumping them inside your wet heat. it’s also so easy for him to grab and manhandle you as he pleases with the size of them.

as for you, he loves your thighs. he doesn’t care about the size or any scars, he’s just completely obsessed with squeezing the flesh. it could be while he’s sitting next to you at the bonfire or while he’s eating you out, but he is always groping them somehow.

C = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

at camp half-blood, there’s a low supply of condoms and birth control is only given out for medical reasons, so he’s usually forced to pull out. most of the time he likes to cum in your mouth, and occasionally on your tits. although, there was this one time you let him cum inside, on the promise that he bought some plan b from the dionysus kids, who snuck out into the city every so often and stole a bunch of shit.

D = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he likes to be dominated. it started one night when you felt frisky and rode him, whispering praises into his ear while bouncing carelessly. something snapped inside his brain that day, and he developed a new desire to be under your control. but he has a reputation to uphold, so it’s rare he let’s you take charge.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s definitely not inexperienced. luke’s a good looking guy, so it’s no surprise that he’s had a few girlfriends before you. he grew to be decent in bed, knowing how to get a girl off while still pleasing himself. with that being said, he still had a lot to learn while dating you. there’s no real porn in camp besides some old playboy magazines his brothers stole, so he just had to go off what he heard girls liked.

F = favorite position (this goes without saying)

luke likes to stick with the classic missionary, mainly to see your face and your tits, but also because of his lack of knowledge to other positions. if he’s had a bad day and feeling rough, he’ll try doggy, although it usually ends in him flipping you around and fucking you on your back.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

typically he’s pretty serious, too busy spewing out mindless praises to crack a stupid joke. every once in a while he’ll softly laugh at something dumb, but that’s mainly him just being pussy drunk and happy at everything.

H = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

not clean shaved, but well trimmed. he’s got a little bit of a bush, but nothing dramatic or anything that would irritate your skin.

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he grew up treating women with uttermost respect, and thinks sex is only for real relationships. in other words, he’s not a believer in hook up culture. luke’s only interesting in fucking if there’s strings attached, mainly because there’s a strong chance of him falling in love after getting intimate with someone.

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

the hermes cabin is packed, so there’s not a lot of places for him to jack off. if he can’t see you and is really desperate, he’ll do it quietly and quickly in the shower, but overall, he doesn’t feel the need to that often. i mean, why use his own hand if he can use yours?

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

he’s typically a vanilla person, besides the whole secret sub kink. unless we’re talking about post tlt dark!luke, in which case that’s a whole other story. (would you guys want a different alphabet based on that?) but anyways, he’s got a huge thing for praise. complimenting you helps him get off on it’s own, but when you turn the tables and start telling him how good he’s doing, that’s when he really starts feeling it.

L = location (favorite places to do the do)

basically any private places around, whether that be one of the empty cabins or a secluded spot in the woods. with no other alternatives, he’ll find a way to make anywhere work.

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

literally just you. he’s fascinated with anything you do, even something as simple as brushing your teeth or waking up all disheveled and groggy in the morning. that doesn’t mean he sees everything as sexual, but there’s nothing more of a turn on at night than you.

N = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

not really into anal, just prefers just good old p in v. if you asked he would be willing to try, but he wouldn’t never suggest it. he knows it can be really painful, and he wouldn’t want to hurt you for his own pleasure. this includes pegging, mainly because it sounds like it would hurt him.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he loves loves LOVES giving head. there’s nothing hotter to him than eating you out, and sometimes you have to pull him away because he’s still going after your second orgasm. and he’s so good at it, too. he knows every every spot that makes your moan like the back of his hand.

he’s into receiving head, too. the innocent look you send up while on your knees and kitten licking the tip makes him go fucking insane.

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

like mentioned before, he’s a believer in intimacy. it usually includes slow and hard thrusts and him taking his time with you. although sometimes at the end, he speeds up, eagerly chasing both of your highs.

Q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not really big on quickies, but with such a busy schedule, it tends to happen more often than not. again, he’s big on taking it steady, so a quick fuck behind the shed isn’t ideal.

R = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

if you’re cool with it, he’s most likely cool with it, or at the very least he’ll try. he’s down for some risk, as long as it’s not hurting anyone. sometimes you’ll fuck in semi-public places just for the risk of getting caught, although no where near any kids.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he’s good at lasting a while, but not at multiple rounds. if you’re just going straight at it, he could last for a maybe twelve minutes, depending on the situation. but he can also make himself finish quicker if needed. as for rounds, usually it’s just one or two.

T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

honestly, i don’t think owns any toys. it’s hard to his hands on get condoms alone, so he can’t even imagine trying to get any sort of toys. (he would find a way if you asked, though) he prefers it plain and simple, just using his body to help you climax.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

surprisingly, he’s always down for some teasing. nothing painfully time consuming, but just a minute of running his dick through your folds before sticking it in. although he hates when you tease him, and won’t hesitate to take what he wants if you’re acting up.

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he groans a little, but in most situations you two are forced to be somewhat quiet. if you’re on top, he’ll occasionally just moan and whimper.

W = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he’s gotten off untouched while eating you out before. you were in an empty cabin, eyes rolled back and letting a few hushed moans slip, and he couldn’t stop himself from cumming in his pants as you climaxed.

X = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

more length than girth, but he’s definitely got something. about 6inches, maybe 7 inches while hard?

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

decent, but not anything crazy. he’ll do as much as you like, or as little. anything to keep you happy.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’s out almost immediately once he’s checked up on you and cleaned you up. he doesn’t mean too, but how can he help it when your cradled in his arms?

#luke castellan #luke castellan smut #percy jackson #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan blurb #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan headcanons #luke castellan imagine #percy and annabeth #pjo

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fiapartridge · 5 months ago

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you don't go to parties | j. hughes 🎆🪩✨

“i don’t know who im looking for ‘cause you don’t go to parties anymore…” you don’t go to parties, 5 seconds of summer

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: after ending your relationship with jack, he finally plucks up the courage to attend a party—and all he can think about is you.

warning(s): cursing, smut (like they have sex but it’s more heated & slow than trying to be super smutty), angst + fluff?? (in some aspects LOL), also noticing now that there was no protection so beware lol

author’s note: i don’t write smut so this is probably the closest ill ever get to writing it LOL but it’s much more for the plot rather than it trying to be super 18+, r-rated type smut yk

wc: 4.01k

not proofread

Glitter hung in the air, every room bathed in a purple glow as Jack hung by the wall, nursing a beer he had managed to snag from the cooler outside. The air was thick with the scent of perfumes and sweat, and the music thumped in his chest, yet he felt—detached, almost alone in the scheme of things.

The party was a blur of lights and sounds, of hookups and dancing. None of it held any interest for him, but his friends had practically begged him to come. They nagged him the entire summer to leave the lakehouse, to have a drink at the bar downtown, or even to just go on a drive with them, but Jack always came up with an excuse. “Can’t. Training for next season,” or “Gotta raincheck. Something came up.”

They knew what it was. It was obvious. He was missing you. You plagued his mind every second of every minute of every day. Jack knew he had messed up. The moments leading up to the collapse of your relationship replayed in his mind like a broken record—the arguments, the tears, the things he said that he couldn’t take back. The memories of you haunted him. He could feel you throughout the whole house.

You met Jack when you were 17. He hosted a draft party at the lake house the second he got back home to Michigan. Jack, being the cocky teenager he was at the time, made it an open-invite party. Sure, it wasn’t smart on his part but he was a clueless teen. He didn’t know better, but he thanks himself everyday knowing that that one decision led him to meeting you.

Your brother—one of Jack’s school friends—had been invited and asked if you wanted to come. You were hesitant at first. You had seen Jack around school, laughing loudly with his friends or pressing a girl up against the lockers, locking themselves together with heated kisses. You had always found him obnoxious, masking his stupidity with insensitive jokes and being portrayed as a “dumb jock.” But ever the hypocrite you were, because there you were, at that obnoxious, insensitive guy’s draft party. Go you.

Entering the house, you noticed the high ceilings and swarm of strangers that knew Jack better than you; who were probably wondering why you were even there, or who you even were. To your left, a group of friends talked animatedly on a set of plush couches, their drinks spilling out of their cups with every swing of their arms, and their makeup perfectly done on their face like they had hired professionals for this specific event. You felt out of place and, to your luck, your brother had abandoned you the second you stepped through that door.

Who knew you could be surrounded by hundreds of people, yet still feel so alone?

Weaving through the crowded house, you made your way to the backyard, which was just as packed as inside the house, except there was a slight breeze and it didn’t smell as terrible. String lights criss-crossed above the partygoers, creating a canopy of twinkling stars. A fire pit crackled in one corner, Adirondack chairs lining the perimeter as guests chatted all around you. The pool was lit within, its water glowing an intoxicatingly vivid blue. You stood there, watching the stillness of the water as everyone filled around you. The music thumped in your chest, in your ears, in your bloodstream, but you watched the water, and for a moment, you felt okay.

“I always wanna jump in at parties,” a deep voice said beside you.

You hesitated before speaking. “Why don’t you? It’s your party, isn’t it?” you asked, face-to-face with the man of the hour. His chestnut hair was cut short, truly showing how young he is. You wondered how he could do this: have eyes on him at all times, have so many expectations weighing on his conscience, being judged constantly. It felt—suffocating, to say the least.

“Do you know how many hockey legends are here?” he laughed, as if the building was swarmed with secret spies.

“And yet you’re standing here. Why’s that?” you asked, looking up at the boy.

And for the first time in your life, Jack Hughes looked at you. And it wasn’t in the gross, disgusted way he looked at clumsy kids in the hallway, or the way he looked at pretty girls like they were his next meal. He looked at you in earnest, an emotion you didn’t even know he was capable of possessing.

“Do you think I don’t know you?” he eyed you, his brow raising as you broke his—hate to admit it—intimidating gaze. You watched the water before you, crossing your arms over your chest as you began to feel that unwelcome, fish-out-of-water feeling again. Moving closer to you, his voice fell almost to a whisper as you felt chills run down your spine due to the proximity. “I know you’re the obnoxious girl that thinks she knows every answer to every question, who already judged every single person at this party without ever learning their names, who doesn’t like me, yet still came. Why’s that?” he asked, repeating the same question you had asked just moments before.

You felt bare in front of him, confused as to how he knew any of that stuff about you. Surely he was too busy making out with girls and slinging a stick around to pay attention to you. So why had he just read you like a book without you having to say a single word?

You shrugged. “I wanted to see what you were about, I guess.”

“Yeah?” he smirked, his tongue poking his cheek as you dared yourself not to look up at him. “How’d I do?”

“Not sure yet.”

He bumped his shoulder with yours, butterflies bumbling around your stomach. “Not just a dumb jock, you know. That’s all Luke.”

You scoffed quietly, a small smile playing on your lips as you lessened up the need to try to fight it. You were smiling because of Jack Hughes, and to be honest, you didn’t really mind it. “He asked me the difference between a square and a rectangle once,” you joked. You had some classes with Luke, and while you two weren’t best friends, you still talked to each other once in a while.

Jack laughed, watching Luke in the corner of his eye try to talk to a girl that was way too old for him. “You’re laughing,” he smiled, noticing you cover your face and still your giggles. “See, I’m not that bad.”

You rolled your eyes before looking up at him. He watched the partygoers on the other side of the pool mingling, his jawline sharpened and his moles scattering much of the surface area of his face. You hadn’t noticed much about his appearance until then, until you finally got a good look at him, at his personality.

You two sat poolside for a while, your legs dipped in the water as you talked about anything and everything. Occasionally people would pull him away to chat, but he would always come back to you, telling you all about the boring conversations, how much he hated networking at a party that’s supposed to be fun, how he hated being treated and expected to be like an adult when he was far from it.

He didn’t notice he was talking to you for so long until the party thinned and it was just you and him in the backyard. Cups littered all around you, his mom picking them up as she not-so-subtly eavesdropped on your conversation. His brothers were inside the house, watching you two from the kitchen window, and Trevor and Cole speculated who you even were while trying not to pass out on the couch in the living room.

For the first time in a while, Jack felt, I don’t know, good about himself? Like he wasn’t praised for doing such little things, or told he’s some amazing person just because he’s good at passing a puck around. Like he was able to talk, and someone was there to listen. And for some reason, he actually kind of liked being criticized by you. It showed that you paid attention; that you were real. He hadn’t met someone real in a while.

He remembered the time you had dragged him to a New Year’s Eve party at your friend Avery's apartment a couple years later.

He was wearing “2024”-shaped sunglasses that matched yours, and a shiny, gold, plastic fedora that made you laugh every time you looked at him. His arms were wrapped around you from behind as you entered the house, his lips planting a kiss on the crown of your head as you two separated to hug the group of people that stood near the door.

You talked to your friends, catching up on everything you guys missed in each other’s lives while in college. Jack snuck up behind you, kissing your cheek before slipping off your coat and placing it on the couch by the entrance.

The party was chill, much more relaxed than any of the parties Jack was invited to that night. You had urged him to go to them, knowing he would have much more fun with his friends, singing karaoke, getting wasted, and blasting music until they can’t hear anymore, but he shook his head, saying, “Parties are only fun if you’re there,” he shrugged. “Besides, how am I supposed to get my New Year’s kiss without you?”

The two of you mingled for a while, sharing nostalgic stories about high school and the time Jack had confused “pads with wings” with pads and chicken wings. The living room was filled with soft music and the hum of conversations. Jack kept close, his hand finding yours every now and then as if to ask if you were okay, if you needed food or a refill on your drink, if you were tired and wanted to go home—you were always his first priority.

As the night progressed, the countdown to midnight drew closer. People began to gather in the living room, excitement buzzing in the air. Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve played on the television as Jack pulled you to a spot where you could both see the screen. His arm wrapped around your waist, and you leaned into him, sniffing his cologne and laughing when he caught you.

Before you knew it, the countdown began and everyone started chanting along.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

You turned to Jack, his eyes locked on yours, a charismatic smile playing on his lips. Even after dating for five years, he still managed to make you nervous. You had hoped that that feeling would never go away. You want to be nervous because of Jack Hughes every single night—forever.

“Seven, six, five…”

The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there.

“Four, three, two…”

Jack’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his palm warm and tender against your skin as you leaned into it.

“One! Happy New Year!”

Cheers erupted around you, but all you could focus on was Jack as he leaned in—not too slow, not too fast—capturing your lips in an impossibly better-than-the-last, sweet, honey kiss. Your hands were in his hair, his were glued to your hips, and it was perfect. And for a moment, it was just you and him, sharing the first kiss of the new year.

When you finally pulled away, grins were etched to your faces. You still couldn’t believe he was yours.

“Happy New Year,” Jack whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

“Happy New Year,” you echoed.

Jack’s head rested against the wall behind him, his eyes closed, the music muffling around him as he thought back to the first time he said “I love you.”

It was your 18th birthday and you were celebrating it at the lake house. Knowing Alex, Trevor, and Cole, they planned this huge rager for you, inviting nearly half the neighborhood—and then some.

After you said your hellos and knowing that the party could continue without you, you wandered upstairs, finding yourself in Jack’s room as you sat on his bed; his gray cover soft under your fingertips as you brushed over the fabric. You just needed a minute.

Before you knew Jack—like, really knew Jack—you hadn’t had a birthday party in years. It wasn’t like your family didn’t care about you, or your friends didn’t want to celebrate you. Everyone in your life meant something to you, and you meant something to them too. You just couldn’t go to parties to save your life. You would walk in, see all the girls that are prettier than you, all the guys that act like you don’t exist, you’d get in your head, get overwhelmed, and leave quickly after. This just wasn’t for you.

And because Jack knew you, he knew you would be upstairs.

The door slowly creaked open, causing your head to rise, and a sigh to fall from your lips—just Jack. He smiled at you, shutting the door softly behind him as he sat beside you on the bed. You two sat surrounded by the soft glow of dim lamps, and the distant thumping of music that had seeped through the floorboards beneath your feet.

His heart pounded in his chest. He knew you were beautiful, but sometimes he’s just so amazed by you, like you’re a new person every single day. Like there were new discoveries to be made, like he could never get bored with you. To Jack, you were everything. And who needs anything else in the world if he had everything sitting right beside him?

His hand rested on your thigh, his thumb running up and down the exposed skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You furrowed your brows. “For what?”

He shrugged. “For the party. I know you didn’t want it.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want it,” you murmured, sighing. “It’s just—I’m not Trevor, or Cole, or the number one overall draftee, Jack Hughes,” you smirked, bumping your shoulder with his.

He shook his head. “No one’s telling you to be. We could’ve watched a movie,” he suggested, grinning. “Or gone on a shopping spree, or went on a drive. You don’t have to do anything for anyone else, especially on your birthday.”

“I like parties when you’re there—and no one else is,” you laughed as Jack scoffed, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I like those parties, too.” He went silent for a minute, just the hum of music playing from the outside filling the room as you focused on his thumb on your thigh. “I know I’ve been busy with hockey and everything lately, but I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re not important to me, or that I’m not thinking about you, because I am—all the time. You’re the most important person in my life.”

Your heart swelled at his words as you squeezed his hand. “I know, J,” you nodded. “I knew what I was getting into when you asked me out,” you smiled, meeting his gaze.

He had been busy with his rookie season for the past year: being called a bust, getting injured over and over again, fans questioning if the Devils made the correct choice with him. He grew quiet during those months, more frustrated—with himself, with his game, with the people around him. You were worried for him, begging him to just talk to you about it. He shielded himself from everything and everyone. He almost lost you because of it, and he vowed to never do that shit ever again; to never get so close to losing himself that he ends up losing you.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re really fuckin’ cool, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, that smile planted on your lips never fading away. “I know.”

Laughing, he smiled, a small, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You buried your face in Jack’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of seasalt and ocean breeze. “Luckily for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

He kissed the top of your head, his chin resting on your hair as your cheek laid against his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

He felt you tense beneath him, pulling back slightly. His heart sped up. “What?”

He gulped before breathing in. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice steadier this time. “I think I’ve always been in love with you—you make it hard not to be.”

Your breath caught, a small smile encapsulating your blushy face. “I love you, too.”

Before you could say anything else, Jack closed the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. The music was gone, the thumping of your heartbeat was put to the back of your mind, every doubt and every worry you had for this relationship was dissipated immediately—nothing existed at this moment. It was jack, jack, jack, plus a hundred times more.

Jack’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. You responded naturally, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as if afraid he might disappear, like this moment was just a figment of your imagination.

Gently, Jack guided you higher up the bed, his movements careful and deliberate. He laid you down, hovering over you, his eyes filled with adoration. “I love you so much,” he whispered against your lips before capturing them in another kiss.

Your hands roamed his back as you tugged at his shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours. Jack immediately understood, pulling away just long enough to discard his striped tee before returning to you, his kisses growing more urgent.

As you pulled him closer, your own shirt joined his on the floor, your lacy red bra standing out against your skin. Jack’s breath hitched at the sight, his hands trembling as they traced the contours of your body, committing every inch and every curve to memory. He wanted to explore every dimple and every mole, every birthmark, and every faint touch that made you squirm. He wanted to know you, as thoroughly as possible.

“Holy shit,” he murmured breathlessly, praising you to the highest level. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Jack’s lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He paused, his gaze meeting yours, a silent question in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything unless you wanted to. You answered with a nod, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw before pulling him back to you.

“I love you, Jack,” you whispered against his lips. “I want this.”

Jack’s hands moved with increasing urgency, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Roaming lower, they explored the curve of your waist before slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. His fingers found their way to your core, gently exploring, teasing.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your body arching against his touch. “Jack,” you breathed.

He kissed you deeply, his fingers moving with deliberate, tender motions, drawing soft gasps and breathless moans. “I love you…so much,” he murmured against your lips.

Your breaths became ragged, his name becoming the only thing left in your vocabulary. The room grew warmer, more intoxicating. Jack felt you getting closer to your high, quickly removing his fingers before you could reach it as you whined out, breathless.

He paused, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and heavy. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked again.

You nodded, your eyes locked with his. “I’m sure, Jack. I want you.”

With a shuddering breath, he captured your lips again, the kiss deep and all-consuming. His hands found the clasp of your bra, unhooking it, and letting it fall away. He stared at you for a moment, taking in your bare body before his lips began to trail downwards, worshiping every inch of you.

Your hands found the waistband of his pants, your hands working sloppily as you fumbled with the button. Paying no mind, he helped you, discarding his pants and boxers in one swift motion. Jack’s body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin against yours almost too much to bear. His kisses were everywhere, trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and finally to your breasts, where he lingered, drawing soft moans from your lips.

You arched against him, your body pleading for more, for everything. "Jack, please," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath.

He met your eyes, his gaze soft and safe. "I love you," he said again, his voice full of emotion. "Let me show you how much."

With that, he kissed you deeply, his body aligning with yours. The moment he entered you, it was like everything else fell away, leaving only the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible. The rhythm of your movements, the gasps and moans, all blended perfectly, like this was right where you were supposed to be—with Jack, here, and in love.

His thrusts were slow at first, measured, each one driving you closer to the edge. The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was overwhelming. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated against your lips, over and over again.

Jack’s thrust became more urgent, his breathing ragged, matching your own. His heavy grunts, as your fingers dug into his back pulling him closer, closer, impossibly closer, filled the warm room.

As your climax built, your hands weaved through his hair, needing to feel him, needing to be as close as humanly possible. Each thrust hit harder and faster than the last, bringing you closer to the edge.

“Jack,” you cried out, your body tensing as that unfamiliar feeling approached, the high almost too much to handle.

His face was buried in your neck, holding you tightly. “Y/N,” he groaned, pushing you through your high, his own release nearly there.

With a final thrust, the string you held onto so tightly, slipped from your fingers, a balloon inside you erupting at the feeling. You cried out his name once more, your body trembling with the force of your release. Jack followed, his own climax crashing over him.

You clung to each other, your bodies trembling with aftershocks. Jack held you against his chest, his breath ragged, and his heart pounding against yours.

As you laid entwined, the world slowly came back into focus. The sounds of the party were distant now, a faint reminder of where you were. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. You didn’t care about what was going on downstairs, who was missing you, or who was asking for Jack. All that mattered right now was the two of you, and it felt perfect.

“Don’t know if I said it enough, but I love you,” Jack chuckled, his arm wrapped around your small frame.

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. “I love you, too, J. Always.”

Always.

Opening his eyes, Jack watched the crowd around him, his gaze instinctively searching for you. He didn’t know why he was doing it. There was no point—not anymore, not when he fucked everything up. Not when he let you slip from his fingers and leave his life entirely.

His eyes settled on a girl in the corner of the room, a red solo cup in hand, her cheeks a flushed mess, and he wondered why he was even at that party. None of these girls could hold a candle to you, not even if they tried.

Yet Jack watched the door, and willed for you to come, despite knowing you don’t go to parties anymore.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes angst #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes smut #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x y/n #new jersey devils #nj devils #nhl imagines #nhl fan fiction #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #jack hughes fan fiction #jack hughes x fem!reader

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laurenairay · 10 months ago

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hopeless hearts just passing through - J. Hughes

This my entry for @wyattjohnston’s low-key lovefest 2k24 prompt list challenge. I chose “stop making promises you aren’t going to keep” from the angst list and “you’re the only person I wanted to see tonight” from the fluff list.

Summary: Jack had messed up, again. Can he make it up to you this time, or is it too late?

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: light angst, Jack being a dumbass, some bad language, fluff

Title from: I was made for loving you, by Tori Kelly

Thursday 28th December

[7.00pm] You’ve reached Jack. I’m obviously not here right now so leave me a message after the beep.

[7.25pm] You’ve reached Jack. I’m obviously not here right now so leave me a message after the beep.

[8.00pm] You’ve reached Jack. I’m obviously not here right now so leave me a message after the beep.

“Hey Jack, guess you’ve forgotten our call. Again. By now you probably have other plans tonight? Just… please give me a call when you listen to this.”

Friday 29th December

Morning came without a phone call. You didn’t know whether you were surprised or not, if you were being honest – this wasn’t the first time he’d forgotten to call you while on the road like he promised he would. This time though it felt different. Maybe it was because the two of you had spent a wonderful happy Hannukah & Christmas together only days before that hurt you the most. Maybe it was just because you believed Jack when he promised. Either way, this time you couldn’t let it go – it was a matter of principle.

You made it through your entire morning routine, getting washed and dressed for work, eating breakfast, packing your lunch into your work bag, before your phone started to ring. Jack. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, wincing as you slipped into your shoes and grabbed your hooded coat, bag and keys on the way out the door. You weren’t going to be late, not for him.

“I’m on my way to work, I really can’t talk right now.”

You answered bluntly, pinning your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you put on your coat the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“I am so sorry baby.”

Really?

“That’s really all you have to say?” you snapped, picking your work bag up off the floor now that you’d zipped up your coat.

“What else can I say?”

You were stunned for a moment, lips parting. The nerve of this guy.

“Oh I don’t know, how about what you’re actually sorry for?” you said, the sarcasm in your voice barely hiding your anger.

You heard him huff out a breath, perfectly in time with the elevator doors opening on the ground floor of your apartment building.

“I’m sorry I missed our call. I know I promised to call you but I just totally forgot. The guys were all excited about a mario kart tournament and I really wanted Luke to finally get in on the action!”

“Please don’t blame your brother for your mistakes.”

Jack inhaled sharply over the phone. You could almost picture his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say, just as he usually did in person, so you just waited for him to speak as you trudged down the street to your usual bus stop.

“I’m sorry. For blaming Luke and for upsetting you. It won’t happen again, baby, I promise.”

Yeah, okay. As if that was the first time he’d said that.

“Stop making promises you aren’t going to keep,” you said sharply.

Jack was silent for a moment or two.

“What do you mean?”

His voice sounded so small, so quiet, like he finalised realised the depth of how badly he’d screwed up. Good.

“You know what I mean, Jack. I’m not asking for the world – I know your team will always be priority. I’m just getting sick of never even crossing your mind at all. Even a text to say a mario kart tournament had started last minute would’ve been better than being fucking ghosted by my own boyfriend,” you groaned.

Thankfully there was no-one else at the bus stop to hear your cursing.

“Baby, please, I can do better. I will do better.”

He was clearly panicking, voice full of desperation with whatever he was reading from your own voice. But you just sighed, not really sure what to say because this wasn’t the first time so would it really be the last? Could you really believe him?

Before you could think of an answer to his pleading, your bus came into view as it turned the corner onto your road. Clearly this was a sign.

“I have to go, my bus is here,” you said softly.

“No baby, wait please, I-”

You ended the call without letting him finish, already feeling a headache coming on as the anger washed out of you. This was the last thing you needed after the heartache of last night – his panicked pleading. It wouldn’t help his case when he was so far away, not when you were this frustrated with him. The best thing for you to do, rather than tumbling into saying something you would regret, would be to give yourself some space, some breathing room.

Something that Jack clearly didn’t agree with as he immediately called your phone again.

Thankfully the bus pulled up right at that moment, so you felt justified in ignoring him, slipping your phone into your pocket as you flashed the driver your bus pass, focusing on finding a seat for your commute.

It was all you could do to keep your face neutral, trying to ignore the overwhelmed tears stinging at your eyes as your phone continued to buzz for most of your journey.

As you suspected, your morning at work was terrible. Not only did your mild headache turn into a fully formed one, but you were clearly giving off ‘leave me alone’ vibes because your colleagues steered clear, leaving you to stew in your emotions in peace. Not even a walk outside during your lunch break did any good – you still had a headache, the food you packed was so-so, and you had three emails to deal with that were really not your problem.

Didn’t people know that sending emails between Christmas and New Year was pointless?

“Hey, you’ve got a delivery.”

You jerked your head up from your computer to see your office receptionist standing next to you with a gigantic bouquet of flowers – white and pink roses, to be precise, around three dozen. What the hell?

“Uh, thanks,” you murmured, forcing a quick smile as she passed the bouquet over.

You tried desperately to ignore the whispers and stares around you as you spotted a card. Really you knew there was only one person who would send you flowers, but you still opened the small envelope with shaking hands anyway.

‘I’m sorry. Jack xx’

A simple message but it still made your heart ache.

That, and it made your lingering headache pound more. This was so typical Jack, wanting to do some sort of grand gesture which in technicality was very sweet but also so not what you needed right now. You didn’t need the reminder that things were shaky between you two. You didn’t need the stares and attention from your colleagues, all of them now knowing that something was wrong from your reaction. And you didn’t need to carry the bouquet home on the bus with you, the unresolved tension between you and Jack hanging over you like an axe.

Or, well, like a bouquet of 36 flowers, bigger than your head.

“Oh honey, what did he do?”

You winced at the pitying voice of your colleague, smiling sadly as you shook your head.

“I’d really rather not talk about it,” you said softly.

She nodded, smiling sadly back.

“Well if you change your mind, message me and we’ll go for coffee,” she said, voice quiet, trying to give you a modicum of privacy.

You just nodded, thanking her quietly in response, and she left with a squeeze of your shoulder. She meant well, you knew she did, and hopefully this interaction would stop anyone else (especially those who loved to stir drama) from approaching you too.

It was all you could do to put the flowers on the side of your desk, trying to ignore everything they represented. You had work to do – thinking about Jack right now was not going to do you any good.

When your phone buzzed a couple of hours later though, you still read the messages that Jack sent, one after another coming in.

[3.22pm]

From: Jack I got an email saying the flowers had been delivered. I chose white and pink roses to symbolise how much I love you and my loyalty and how sorry I am. I know that I messed up and I understand why you’re upset with me. But please give me a second chance?

He'd looked up flower symbolism. He specifically chose white and pink roses because of their meaning. What were you supposed to do with something so romantic when you were this frustrated with him?

Fuck.

With a sigh you pulled up the Devils schedule on your phone, confirming the date in your mind that he’d be back from his roadtrip. He was still in Ottawa today and then Boston tomorrow…but he would be back on New Year’s Eve. You could work with that.

[3.35pm]

To: Jack The flowers are beautiful. Thank you. I am still upset with you, but I will hear you out. If you want to talk, come to mine on NYE. I have no plans.

The two of you hadn’t discussed any parties or plans at all for New Year’s Eve, even though you had assumed Jack would’ve dragged you somewhere in the end. But this was better. You needed time alone with him because there was no way you could face him for the first time after all this while surrounded by other people. Putting the ball in his court was the only way to keep your sanity at this point.

With another sigh you put your phone down, raking a hand through your hair as your eyes lingered on the colourful blooms on your desk. They really were beautiful.

You weren’t surprised when it took mere minutes before your phone buzzed again.

[3.37pm]

From: Jack I’ll be there. I promise.

Saturday 30th December

[11.15pm]

To: Jack Sorry about the loss. You’ll get the Bruins next time.

[11.20pm]

From: Jack Thanks ❤️

Sunday 31st December

You hadn’t spoken to Jack since texting him after yesterday’s defeat. Mostly because you knew he was travelling, but also because you knew that him coming over to yours tonight was when you really needed to speak.

For some reason you were a little nervous. You didn’t know what it was really that had you furiously cleaning your apartment, but those fizzing bubbles ran all through your body the whole day. It didn’t help that you had no idea what time Jack would come over. Assuming he was still coming over, that was. No, he had promised, and he knew how you felt about promises. At least you hoped he had learned his lesson on how you felt because you weren’t sure of how much more you could take.

Tonight had to be your deciding factor on protecting your heart, you knew that much.

When you’d scrubbed and rearranged and hoovered all that you could, you showered and dressed up in a comfortable black velvet tea dress, curled your hair and put on a little make-up before putting some wine in the fridge to chill. It was New Year’s Eve after all, and you knew that if Jack didn’t turn up by 9pm, your friends had insisted that you go over to theirs to celebrate the new year together. It felt good to know that you had a safety net because if Jack didn’t show tonight? You were done. And you knew you’d need the support of your friends to get you through.

Fuck.

You really hoped he showed up.

When it got to 6pm, you put some soft music on, hoping to drown out the silence of your apartment, feeling like an idiot for just sitting around waiting for him. What if he didn’t show up? What if he let you down again? What if this was the end of your relationship? What if…

Bzzzzz

The buzzer for your apartment crashed through your swirling thoughts and you quickly jumped to your feet, cheeks heating with how ridiculous you felt.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Can you let me up?”

Jack. He came.

You didn’t answer, just pressed the button to let him in, trying to keep yourself calm as you paced to and forth while you waited for him to take the elevator up to your apartment. In all reality it didn’t take long, but after the last few days it felt like a lifetime.

“Hey.”

You huffed out a laugh at your awkward greetings, stepping aside to let him in.

“Thanks, uh, for inviting me over,” Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wasn’t sure what time you would come. Or what you were doing tonight,” you murmured, shutting the door behind him.

Jack groaned, walking further into your apartment, you following silently. “I should’ve texted. Fuck, I should’ve told you exactly what time I was coming over, but I got so caught up trying to find the right thing to wear and dropping Luke off early at Nico’s and…”

Oh bless his heart. He was going straight into it then.

His rant trailed off as you pressed a finger to his lips, responding to your amused smile with a shy one of his own.

“You look great, Jack – you always do,” you said simply, dropping your hand back to your side, “But I actually meant if you had other plans around this like parties you were going to go to.”

Jack immediately shook his head, face more serious than you’d ever seen it.

“You’re the only person I wanted to see tonight,” he said firmly.

Oh fuck. Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, Jack taking the chance to hold both of your hands.

“I messed up. I know I messed up. I haven’t been treating you with the respect you deserve and missing even one call with you without letting you know why is unacceptable…”

Wow. This was far more than you had ever expected from him, and your heart ached with the emotion he was putting into his thoughts. Maybe he’d rehearsed this with Luke, maybe he was winging it, but you could tell in his eyes that he meant every word. He was right – you hadn’t been respected like you deserve. Could he really turn himself around though?

“…I really am sorry, baby. I love you so much and I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Please, will you forgive me?”

The confidence in his voice wavered a little, voice cracking with the emotion of his words, and you felt a pang radiate through your chest. You’d never seen him look so vulnerable before. Maybe you needed to see it.

As you formed your thoughts, you kept your hands in his, squeezing to let him know you were processing so he didn’t panic or shut down. That was the last thing you wanted or needed. This was a lot, and it was important that you said what you really meant.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to dive straight into this.”

Jack winced slightly, lips parting, but you shook your head. No, it was your turn now.

“You really hurt me, Jack. I appreciate that you understand that, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I was hurt. I don’t ask for much and you couldn’t even give me the bare minimum,” you started.

The whimper that escaped from his throat just about broke your heart, but you barrelled on.

“I deserve more. I deserve better. I deserve respect, you’re right. I just…I really hope you’re the one that can give that to me,” you said softly.

As your words sunk in, a hopeful smile quickly spread across his face.

“I get a second chance?” he grinned, making you huff out a laugh.

“Yeah, Jack, you do. But you won’t get a third. I don’t like feeling like I don’t matter and you can’t do that again,” you said, hoping he understood how serious you were.

Jack nodded, squeezing your hands.

“I won’t let you down, baby. I almost lost you once by being a careless asshole, I won’t lose you again,” he said, smiling.

Oh how that smile gave you butterflies.

“I love you,” he said again.

It didn’t matter how long you’d been together or how many times he said it – hearing those words fall from his lips made your heart race every single time.

“I love you too,” you said, finally smiling back.

Jack whooped, throwing his head back in celebration, making you burst out in laughter, even more so as he dropped your hands to wrap his arms around your waist, picking you up to spin around in a circle. Ridiculous, ridiculous man.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You just clutched at his shoulders as he murmured the words over and over again in your ear, hoping that this time, his words would be true.

#my writing #jack hughes fic #lowkey lovefest 2k24 #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine

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jackmanbj · 6 months ago

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bikini bottom

summary: you go to the beach with your boyfriend for the first time.

a/n: i think im back .. probably for good

you got into the passengers side while jack started packing everything into the trunk of the car.

when he was done he went to the drivers side and started playing the music on the radio.

“j how long is the drive?”

“about twenty minutes why?”

“cause you were rushing me i didn’t have time to do my makeup and now its not going to get done cause its only a twenty minute drive.”

“mamas were literally going to a beach..with water you dont need makeup..”

“i might not even get in the water!”

“baby you amazing you don’t even need the makeup can we go?”

“you’re just saying thattt!”

jack didn’t listen to you convincing him to let you do your makeup and pulled off.

when you both got to the beach jack immediately got in the water but you decided to tan for a little while.

after about 10 minutes you were lying on your stomach when you felt water dripping on your back.

you turned around and seen cench hovering over you, the water dripping off his chest onto your back.

“boy more you blocking my sun!”

“never seen somebody so spoiled they called the the sun ‘their sun’.”

“well you seen one now, move!”

you pushed him and he dramatically fell onto the ground.

“you are so embarrassing get the hell up!”

“my leg!”

“boy this is not no fucking spongebob, jackman get upp!”

jack pouts and gets up “ma watch this!” jack says as he runs into the ocean while you watch making you giggle

“jack your really a big child”

jack didnt hear you and continued to play in the water

after five minutes of watching him you decided to go get in the water for a while

“i told you that you would get in the water”

“jack hush because im not even gon’ be in long, and did you put on sunscreen? you know yo’ ass sunburn”

“no..”

you sighed and grabbed him by the arm and brought him to the chairs to put sunscreen on him

“there now you can go back and get in the water”

jack immediately got up and ran to the water with you laughing and walking behind him

“jack boo come here” you say calling him to the shallow part of the water where you were

“huh?” jack says coming back by you with his hair soaked from being underwater

“im hungry is there any close food spots?”

“uhmm… not that i know of, wanna go get some?”

“no not right now your having fun”

“it’s fine im getting tired anyway” jack says rising out of the water and picking you up carrying you bridal style to the chairs

jack places you on the chairs and you both dry of and start getting dressed in coverup outfits.

you both decided to go to canes being as though it was your favorite food.

“jackie after we eat what do you want to do?”

“i dont know mamas, its up to you really.”

you thought about it for a second before asking to just go back to the room and relax a while.

while you both were eating you took some of jacks food and he popped your hand away.

“jackman i know you didnt just pop me like im a child.”

jack laughed and kissed your forehead before getting up and throwing away the trash.

“come on pretty girl, lets go back to the room.”

you and jack walked the 10 minutes to the hotel. once you were in the room you put on a movie for yall to watch together.

“jackie bring the weighted blanket” “i forgot to pack it” “jackk! i told you several times to pack it!” “i know mamas i forgot, im sorry”

you huffed and turned to face the tv while jack came next to you

“your so pretty baby..”

you smiled and kissed jack “thank you handsome..”

“i love you girl” he said smiling and wrapping his arms around you “i love you to, forever and always?”

“forever and always my girl”

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x you #im back

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 6 months ago

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"dance recital" - hotch x mom!reader!

your family attends your daughter's dance recital

1480 words, domestic family fluff

cw: none? unless u hate kids then don't read this xD

a/n: i am looking at requests and actually have a couple of them started! inspiration just struck and i needed dance dad hotch xD plz keep sending requests i love getting them

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

Lizzy had been practicing for weeks, at home, in the car on the way to school, even in the waiting room at the dentist’s office. If there was a free moment, she was up on her toes, practicing her dance routine.

When she turned four, she was so excited to sign up for dance class, and now her very first recital is later today. She takes it very seriously, and you attribute that entirely to her hardworking father.

You’re standing in the kitchen, packing the picnic lunch you’ll be sharing as a family after her recital in the park. PB&J, no crusts, for Jack. Even though he’s nearly ten and he should be eating his crusts, you can’t help but to baby him a little. He’s been such a good big brother to Lizzy. You were anxious about that when you were pregnant with her, since Jack was so used to being the only kid. And there would always be the looming presence of Haley and the family he was a part of before you came along.

But Lizzy became the center of Jack’s world when she was born. He’s so doting and always playing with her, from when she was an infant to now.

Nutella and peanut butter sandwich for Lizzy, because she has a sweet tooth just like her mother. Turkey and cheese for you and Aaron. “D’you want mayo, honey?” You call out to wherever Aaron is in the house. He was in the living room just a few minutes ago, but with your two crazy kiddos, he could have ended up anywhere.

“Just the mayo, no honey,” Aaron jokes and nearly makes you jump as he enters the kitchen, padding silently behind you despite being the largest person in the house. Must be that fancy tactical FBI stealth training.

He stops at the counter, leaning against it and facing you. Your eyes meet his and his voice is low when he speaks to you. “You need to make a big deal out of this,” he prefaces, nodding to the doorway. You don’t fully know what he’s talking about, but you understand enough, so you set your butter knife down and turn around to face the doorway. Aaron makes a drumroll on his thigh. “Come on in, kids!”

Jack enters first, in a bright orange t-shirt that is definitely a size too big. Written in blue, puffy fabric paint, no doubt by Jack himself, are the words PROUD BIG BRO. Jack’s also holding Lizzy’s hand, escorting her into the kitchen. She’s in her violet tutu and has her hair up in two haphazardly pulled-back pigtails that could only be described as the work of her father. She’s walking on her tiptoes, with her free hand arched up in a semicircle shape, mimicking all the ballerinas in her books.

You’re beaming, and take the sight in silently for a moment before bursting into uproarious (for one woman) applause. “You guys look so great!” You exclaim, grinning at the kids, and then back at your husband. He’s got this sly look on his face and you want to smooch it off. “When did you make this shirt?” You ask Jack, stepping forward and grabbing his face with both of your hands. You kiss his forehead and ruffle his hair.

“Dad and I did it while you were at the store last night,” Jack explains.

“I love it, baby,” you tell Jack, and he beams. You stroke the apples of his cheeks with your thumbs before releasing him.

Lizzy lets go of her brother’s hand and leaps for you. “My big girl is all dolled up for her first recital,” You lift her up, hugging her close. “Did Daddy do your hair for you?” you ask.

“Yes! He sang our song and I didn’t cry!” she says. You always sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star to Lizzy while you brush her hair because she’s very tender-headed. It makes your heart soar to learn that Aaron did it, too.

“I’m so proud of you!” You kiss Lizzy’s face all over until she squeals and wriggles to get away. “Why don’t you guys go play in the living room for a little bit, and we’ll get going soon,” you suggest. Jack races Lizzy into the living room, leaving you and Aaron in the kitchen alone.

“You did her hair,” you say as you smirk up at Aaron.

“Yeah, I know. It's not as good as when you do it,” he settles back against the counter and you roll your eyes. He’s holding his palms out, wiggling his digits. “I’ve got sausage fingers, and she cries if you pull the twist-tie too hard. It’s heartbreaking.”

“And you made a shirt with Jack,” you say, ignoring his self-deprecation. Your smirk has turned into a full-force, Category Five Grin.

Aaron realizes what you’re doing as you inch a little closer. He takes your wrist delicately, tugging you toward him, and you kiss his lips three times in succession, each a quick thank-you for all he’s done. “You’re the one driving her to classes twice a week,” Aaron deflects. “And Jack to school, and to soccer practice, and doing all the shopping and-“

“Aaron,” you roll your eyes in warning. You hate when he butters you up like this. You’re just doing your job, just like he is when he’s away on cases.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he holds his hands up in defense, and you snatch them like they’re precious jewels. You kiss him again, this one longer and lingering.

You finish packing your family’s lunch into the cooler. Lizzy’s recital is at a small amphitheater in the park, and after you drop her off with her teacher backstage, you and your boys find a good spot on the green to set up your picnic blanket.

Aaron makes this small grunt when he squats to sit down on the ground and you hold back a snicker. Jack does not read the room and calls him an old man.

You’re giggling as you sit down, Aaron tugging you to sit between his legs. You affectionately run your hand through Jack’s hair a few times before the first class comes up onto the stage.

You watch the first class, and the second, clapping politely. Then, the four-and-five-year-olds are announced, and you are on your feet immediately. You hear a bit of rustling and Jack and Aaron are standing up, too. You grin when you see Lizzy with the other little kids, holding the hands of the boy in front of her and the girl behind her as they all walk in a line.

Their dance is simplistic and whimsical and joyful, set to a light, poppy tune that makes you think of spring. You’re grinning and watching Lizzy float across the stage. She’s not the most graceful, but she hits every move at the right time.

You hear rustling behind you and turn over your shoulder to see Aaron and Jack subtly performing the dance with the class. They’re not moving nearly as dedicatedly as the group on stage, but they’re helping Lizzy from the audience. It’s so sweet you want to cry.

When Lizzy’s group is finished, the three of you on the lawn explode in applause. Aaron wolf-whistles behind you and Jack is cheering, “that’s my sister!”

After the other classes go, you’re allowed to head back and pick up Lizzy. She’s giggling with the other kids in her class, but she freezes and grins like it’s Christmas morning when she sees you.

“Mommy!” she squeals, and runs to you. You lift her up off the ground in a hug and spin her around, before passing her off to Aaron. He does the same thing. “Dizzy! Dizzy!” She’s squealing, and Aaron finally sets her down.

“Dizzy Lizzy, huh?” Aaron teases, running his thumb and his forefinger down one of her pigtails. “You did so good, sweet girl!” He was never the best at baby-talking to Lizzy, but now that she’s a little girl, he speaks to her so excitedly and she always beams when she learns her father is proud of her.

“You got the leap at the right part!” Jack exclaims proudly, and you watch as Lizzy hugs her big brother.

You point out the picnic blanket with the cooler and tell Jack to take Lizzy ahead to it. Jack loves being responsible, so he takes Lizzy by the hand and leads her towards your family’s setup.

Hanging back with Aaron, you look up at him and brush his dark hair off his forehead. “You learned her dance?” you ask with a small smirk on your face.

Aaron’s dark eyes gaze into yours and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close to him. “She was doing it every chance she got,” he shrugs, like it’s totally no big deal. “You’re telling me you don’t have it memorized?”

#criminal minds #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #hotchner #hotchner x reader #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #domestic hotchner

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s1llysmut · 6 months ago

Note

Can I request a Husk NSFW alphabet >_<

A/N: Absolutely! I’ve been waiting for this!

NSFW alphabet for Husk

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Prepare for some great cuddling! He’ll save cleaning up for later unless it’s like a huge mess. He will just hold you or lay on you until you both fall asleep. He purrs by the way.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part on himself is his wings. He simply likes flying around. On you he loves your waist. He loves wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind. He also loves using your waist for a good grip when he’s railing you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves cumming in you but only with a condom on. He’s terrified of having kids cause he’s scared they’d have a bad life in hell.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has 100% sniffed your panties before when you weren’t around. He’s probably used them to get off too.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s quite experienced. A little rusty but overall good. He knows what makes you tick.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. He likes to watch your ass jiggle.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious but if you start being goofy he’ll join in.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn’t shave. It’s all natural baby.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s extremely intimate. He doesn’t just see sex as sex, he sees it as love making. Why wouldn’t he be intimate with such an intimate act?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He uses your panties to get off. He’ll sniff them and rub his dick with them.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hair pulling. He loves to hit it from the back and tug at your hair.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bedroom. He’s very private.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’s a sucker for you in lingerie. He just melts.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t do threesomes or anything risky like public sex. He doesn’t want to share you with anyone.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a GOD at giving head. He loves having his head nestled between your thighs while you’re moaning and tugging at his ears.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s slow but deep and hard. A weird mix of slow and sensual and rough?

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He hardly ever does them. He wants to take his time with you. He doesn’t see the point in making love if it’s rushed.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Absolutely not. Sex is a very private act to him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go about 3 rounds give or take.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns rope to tie you up but that’s it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He only teases you as a form of foreplay.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He grunts a lot. Like an old man lmao.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves it when you touch his ears. If you do it in public he will get so red.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s packing a girthy 6.5 inches. And yes it has those marks that actual cats have.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not very high. During mating season however that’s a different story.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like I said in the aftercare part, almost instantly.

#hazbin hotel #smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #smut fic #headcanon #smut headcanons #smut alphabet #hazbin x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk smut

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incorrectbatfam · 2 years ago

Note

Could you please do some headcanons about Batmans cooking disasters over the years?

Age 5: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

Age 6: He decorates a cookie so badly another kid cries until they throw up

Age 7: He tries to make a PB&J and the countertop is sticky for a week

Age 8: He tries to make Martha's chicken noodle soup but ends up crying on the kitchen floor surrounded by half-chopped vegetables

Age 9: He tries to impress a houseguest by recreating Thomas's mixology tricks (sans alcohol). There's still a stain on the ceiling to this day

Age 10: He makes green eggs. It's not on purpose. He's never even read the book

Age 11: He makes lava in the school cafeteria

Age 12: He tries to make cheese bread by drilling holes into a baguette and filling it with melted nacho cheese

Age 13: He melts a cutting board in the oven

Age 14: He folds a Pop Tart

Age 15: The chocolate-covered bananas he makes for the school bake sale come out looking very very wrong

Age 16: He's asked to drop a home economics class after mistaking refried beans for pumpkin puree in a pie

Age 17: He boils eggs in the carton

Age 18: He makes his entire freshman dorm evacuate after burning his ramen to ash

Age 19: He sculpts a severed hand out of meatloaf and is sent to the university psychologist

Age 20: He tries to bake a cake but doesn't have a cake pan, so he pours the batter right in the oven

Age 21: He tries Thomas's mixology tricks again, this time with alcohol. One of the tricks is flipping it over his head. He ends up losing part of his vision for 3 days

Age 22: He burns water. Harley Quinn is there. She still holds it over his head

Age 23: He packs his first patrol snack as Batman. It's a chocolate bar wrapped in a tortilla. The chocolate melts onto his gloves and he drops the tortilla down a sewer grate

Age 24: He makes an ice cream cookie sandwich to eat while he and Batgirl work on a case, but he's so engrossed in the work that he doesn't notice it melt until Babs points it out

Age 25: He enters the first annual Justice League cook-off and immediately gets banned from ever entering again

Age 26: He tries to comfort little Dickie Grayson by making fried cornbread from a book of Roma comfort recipes. It turns out about as well as you'd expect when you give Bruce Wayne hot oil. Bruce is genuinely bummed out, but Dick says it's the thought that counts

Age 27: Clark delivers a huge hunk of beef from the farm. Instead of waiting for Alfred to come back, Bruce and Dick try to break it down with a power saw

Age 28: Bruce and Dick's latkes are burned so badly they can play floor hockey with them

Age 29: He makes stuffed mushrooms. Badly. Like imagine the worst way you can fuck up a mushroom. It still won't compare to what Bruce did. And it's for a potluck with the West-Allens that Barry won't let him live down

Age 30: Bruce sees Dick struggling to make ravioli and he's like "Let me show you how it's done" before proceeding to make it infinitely worse

Age 31: Bruce sees a hungry Jason Todd and the first thing he does when they return to the manor is make a double-decker bread sandwich. That's bread with two more slices of bread in between

Age 32: Bruce packs Dick and Jason's lunchboxes when Alfred is out of town. They're supposed to include a salad. Instead, Dick gets a whole head of lettuce and Jason's is just a bottle of ranch

Age 33: He makes hot chocolate after patrol... but forgets the chocolate

Age 34: The Manor is too cold, so Bruce tries to warm it up by making Jason's favorite soup. His hands shake the whole time. Suddenly, he's eight years old again, sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by scraps reminding him of his failure

Age 35: Jack and Janet Drake are out of the country again, leaving young Timmy by himself. Bruce decides to bring some dinner over. It's baked perfectly, but it's full of things that shouldn't be anywhere near a casserole dish. They end up ordering takeout and watching old detective movies together

Age 36: Steph walks through how to make waffles. Bruce is standing there, watching closely and taking notes. They still come out looking radioactive

Age 37: Cass asks if they can get smoothies. Bruce says he can make them at home. She gives him a warning look but that's not enough to stop him. Cue Bruce forgetting to put the lid on the blender

Age 38: Jason's first night back at home, Bruce tries to make that soup. It shoots out like a geyser and hits the lights. He's panicking until he hears Jason laugh, and then the soup doesn't matter

Age 39: Damian screws up hummus and he desperately tries to hide it so people won't see him as inadequate at something so basic. Instead of getting upset, Bruce assures him it's okay and offers to fix it. (He doesn't fix it, he just makes it worse)

Age 40: Bruce's birthday happens while he's fake-dead and away from home. He grabs a convenience store cupcake and sticks a single candle on it. Then he closes his eyes, pretends his family is around him, and makes a wish. (The candle droops and sets the hotel sheets on fire)

Age 41: Back at the Manor, he attempts to make lemonade on a particularly hot day. Selina offers to help, but Bruce declines, saying, "How hard can it be?" (Spoiler alert: it's not supposed to be full of seeds)

Age 42: Kate shows him a video of Canadians pouring maple syrup into the snow to make candy, so he gets her to boil the syrup so they can do it together. The problem comes when they can't control the pour and end up with a glob the size of Damian

Age 43: As part of a school project, Bruce and Duke try to deduce the Coca-Cola secret formula. Duke's teacher takes a point off because at the beginning he told her he'd taste the results, but there's no way he's doing that now

Age 44: The family gets together to make a full English breakfast Alfred's birthday. Each person takes a part—Dick has eggs, Jason has the grilled tomatoes, Tim has mushrooms, Duke has the bacon, Steph and Cass are tag-teaming the sausages, Damian just has to open a can of beans, and Bruce needs to put bread in the toaster. It goes South immediately when Damian reaches for his katana instead of the can opener

Age 45: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

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https-florals · 2 years ago

Text

banana pancakes - j.m.

word count: 2,347

summary: soft slow morning sex with JJ.

warnings: smut under the cut, minors dni!!! really soft fluffy smut, very slight dacryphilia (literally just mentioned in dialogue)

a/n: would have never guessed that outer banks would be the hyperfixation to pull me out of my smut writing block but here we are!!! likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━

You could never wake up in a bad mood at the Chateau. Even on the mornings after partying hard, the hangover always seemed a little weaker; not as rough and it would have been anywhere else. It’s like the place was laced with dopamine, a bubbly warmth spreading through your body the second you walked in. It was a similar feeling creeping through your veins right now, waking up with JJ’s face buried in your neck.

Laughter and the sound of cookware clashing together come from the kitchen. Somebody is blaring Jack Johnson, and you hum to the song as you try to extract yourself from JJ’s grasp.

He groans, shifting so most of his body weight is on top of you.

“J!” you manage to choke out, trying to squeeze out from under him.

“S’too early,” he grumbles, pushing his face into your chest. You can practically feel him grin against your boobs, and you roll your eyes as you finally push him off.

“You’re such a perv,” you joke as JJ rolls onto his back, hands behind his head. He’s so pretty in mid-morning light, you think as you watch the soft shift of muscle in his bicep. The ends of his dirty-blonde hair are so sun-bleached that they glow in the sun like pure gold, and you card your fingers through it like it’s an involuntary reflex.

JJ is still grinning as he takes your wrist and presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Morning, sweetheart.” He pulls you back on top of him, like he’s stuck to your skin with superglue. With his chest bare underneath your fingertips, you think that JJ Maybank is the prettiest boy on the cut. You kiss him, hoping to get the point across. It’s like pure heaven when his hands smooth up your thighs to rest on your hips, playing with the band of your underwear as he pushes your shirt- his shirt- up. You could never get tired of mornings like this.

JJ’s tongue has just slipped over yours when there’s a loud clanging somewhere in the back of the house, then someone shouting, “Pancakes are done!”

You practically jump off him, much to his disappointment, and yank on a pair of his boxers that’s resting on the dresser.

“Hey!” JJ whines as you slip through the doorway.

“I’m gonna bring you some!” you promise. Everybody except you and JJ are in the kitchen, you realize as you step into the room. The little galley- style kitchen is a little too packed, with Kiara flipping pancakes on one side, Sarah cutting up strawberries and bananas on the other. Pope is sat at the table with all his textbooks spread out, and John B is rolling joints across from him. It’s such a mismatched little group, but you couldn’t love it more. You snatch a strawberry from Sarah’s cutting board, yelping when she tries to pinch you in return.

“Look who’s up,” Kiara says, smiling as she flips two pancakes onto a plate. “If you’re trying to take these to JJ, I’m not letting you. He can come get them himself.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing the plate. “Do you wanna deal with a hungry JJ? Cause I don’t wanna deal with a hungry JJ.”

Kie sighs, but nods and puts two more pancakes on your plate nevertheless. You utter a thank you, then Sarah is piling fruit on top of your stack. “It’s sweet, how you act all motherly.”

“Freud would be so proud,” Pope comments, not even looking up at you.

You fake gag, Sarah bumping against you as she laughs.

Kie calls him out, saying, “Don’t make it gross, Pope.”

Maple syrup is your last pancake topping, and with two forks and some napkins in hand, you’re all set. You’re focusing on balancing the plate in one hand and your metal water bottle in the other, when John B shouts after you, “Remind J we’ve got a surfing date.” He holds up one of the joints, adding, “I’m even packing us a picnic.”

“I gotta get this study guide done,” Pope states. “Take your time.” He waves you off, and with that you slip back into the bedroom, just to find JJ sound asleep again. You set the plate on the nightstand, and crawl over him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “J,” you whisper, rolling your hips into his without even realizing what you’re doing. His eyes fly open, hands clamping onto your hips. “And I’m the perv?”

You sit up, frowning, but JJ keeps you where you are, hands like a vise. “I was trying to give you breakfast in bed, but of course all you think about is sex,” you scold, like a liar.

His expression hasn’t changed from that punchdrunk grin. “What kind of breakfast are we talkin’ here?” He’s proving your point and he knows it, but you can’t say much. You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you at any time, but the pancakes are warm, and you don’t want them soggy. You climb off him as he leans up, and set the plate in his lap. “You need like, real nourishment.”

“I could live off you and be the healthiest man on earth.” JJ’s grin is cocky, his hand not leaving your hip.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the little twist in your stomach, and take a bite of the pancakes. They’re perfect, and you force a bite into JJ’s mouth before he can protest.

“Isn’t that so good!” you exclaim, taking a few more bites before you give him the fork.

“Bet it doesn’t taste good as you, though.” He sets the plate on the bedside table, pulling you onto his lap again. JJ kisses you soundly, tasting like bananas and syrup.

“You’re supposed to go surfing with the boys,” you remind him as he trails kisses down your neck, and he pauses.

“Baby.”

“Yeah?”

“I got all the time in the world. Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

You wrinkled your nose, answering with a “Fuck is such a harsh word.” But you’re pulling the blanket up around you and wiggling out of your underwear.

“Fine. Make love,” he laughs, and you can feel him twitch through his boxers. He’s already hard and it makes you smile.

“That’s just a little cringe,” you reply, taking his hand and pushing it between your legs.

JJ kisses you as his fingers dip into you, forever loving the way you gasp against his lips. “Whatever you want, I’m your man.”

“My man needs to touch me,” you state, grinding into his palm, desperate for a little friction.

His eyebrows quirk up, and two fingers slip into you quick, working you open. “Then who the hell’s fingers are in you right now?”

You slump against him as his thumb begins to circle your clit.

“You’re soaked, baby,” he groans.

Of course you’re still wet. It’s a little bit leftover form last night, from JJ fucking you hard like you were dying tomorrow. It’s also partly from the sun bouncing off his hair, the slope of his abdomen, the gravel in his voice as he sweet-talks you. “Think you can take it?”

You nod fervently, pushing his boxers down and positioning yourself over him. You’re still a little achy from last night, but the tiny discomfort is worth it.

That first push is always heaven. Your foreheads are pressed together as you sink down onto him, breathing in tandem. It’s slow and soft like a Saturday morning, all smiles and gentle touches.

“All mine,” is the only thing tumbling past JJ’s lips as he fucks up into you, his pupils blown.

You’re both quiet, all too aware of your friends still in the house, but the sex isn’t rushed. His hands creep under your tshirt, thumb grazing your nipple and staying there. You could never get tired at the way he smiles at each of your little noises. His head is tilted back against the stack of pillows, the muscles in his abdomen tensing as he fucks you gently.

“J,” you exhale, hands flat on the plane of his stomach. “You’re so fucking pretty.” You can’t help but babble on, practically drunk on his taste, his smell.

“Shut up. I’m gonna come in two seconds if you keep talkin’ like that.

You smile, and fall quiet for a moment as you kiss him. It’s open-mouthed and messy, sharing breath.

His eyes are wider than the moon and bluer than the aquamarine stone in your necklace.

He slips his hand between you, finger just grazing your clit. A almost pornographic moan slips past his lips as you clench around him at that first touch, and you do the same in quick succession as he rubs that little bundle of nerves again. His rhythym stays slow, and though it stutters a bit, it doesn’t falter. You like rough sex as much as the next girl, but something about this lazy morning intimacy drives you wild. You swear you can feel every vein and ridge of his cock, the gentle speed making everything so heightened. JJ feels the same. He takes his time with you, rough palms smoothing over every curve of your body. There isn’t a square centimeter if your skin that JJ hasn’t touched.

He deepens the pressure on your clit little by little, but still keeping the slow pace.

You’re a mess, whining and writhing above him.

“Come on, sugar. You need to come, pretty girl?”

You slump against him, with your mouth on his collarbone, and whine.

He tilts your head up so his eyes meet yours, and he shushes you softly. “Lemme hear you ask.”

“Please, J.”

“Fuck.” His eyes roll back as he bounces you a little quicker, rubs your clit a little harder. His touch slips away for just a second, and you groan, brows furrowed. “What the fuck, J?” It’s a little rude, and he smacks your ass as a little rebuke.

“You’re being mean,” he shushes as he sits up and pulls your legs around him. The slight shift lets him hit a little deeper, and your head rolls back. JJ has a cocky grin plastered on his face, and it just gets wider when his fingers return to your clit. “Feel good, darlin’?”

You can only get out two coherent words in between your stifled moans, babbling, “S’good. S’good.”

A knot begins to tighten in your abdomen, hot and heavy. JJ knows your signs all too well, and keeps pressing on.

“You close?”

Like he doesn’t know the answer. You nod, and he presses his forehead against yours.

“I want you kissing me when you come, pretty. Think you can do that?”

The task seems simple enough, but as JJ pushes you closer to the edge, your head keeps falling back, causing him to remove his fingers and use that same hand to push your face back to his. “I had one request, baby. C’mon.” His tone is playful, but it’s frustrating nonetheless. You’re determined to keep your lips on his.

You can feel him twitch inside you, and the knot in your stomach begins to unravel. Your mouth is open against his, breath hitching in little sobs, tongues meeting then parting then meeting again.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, and JJ kisses you hard, just in time to at least muffle your moans. He stutters inside you as he fucks you through your high, and it takes seconds for him to come crashing down with you. JJ has always been noisy, almost more than you at times, and you have to clamp you hand over his mouth as he groans a string of curse words randomly interjected with your name. There’s a lull to the movement of both your hips, but he doesn’t pull out immediately. You can feel the mix of you two slipping out, and you move off of him, grinning at his annoyed whine. “Just wanna have you sit on me for a while, babe,” he pleads.

“You have a surf date,” you remind him, kissing his cheek.

“Surf date, smursh date,” he mutters, swinging his legs off the bed and pushing himself up.

You drink in the view as you crawl under the covers and grab the plate of pancakes. His back muscles bunch and smooth as he pulls on his trunks and a cutoff tee. “Y’know, we could have slow sex for the rest of our lives and I’d never get bored,” you muse, taking a bite of pancake. They’re a little cold and soggy now, but you don’t mind that much.

“Yeah, but you’re so pretty when you cry.”

“Don’t be gross. You’re not changing my mind on this, Maybank.”

He kisses you on the forehead, soft and sweet. “Let’s go out tonight,” he proposes, switching the subject seamlessly.

“And do what?”

JJ pushes the baby hairs out of your face, answering, “Let’s go out on the boat! I’ll bring some weed and snacks, and you just bring your pretty little self. We’ll figure out something to do.”

You give him a dubious look, but your excitement peeks through. “Why do I feel like that something is gonna be sex?”

“Well, I was thinking we could stargaze, but I’m cool with sex if you are.”

You punch him in the arm and he laughs, pinching your sides in return.

“J!”

“C’mon, baby, it’ll be fun!”

You finally grab his hands in an effort to keep him from tickling you. “We can’t have sex on the boat. Sound carries so bad out on the water. The whole island would hear.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Maybe I want the whole island to know that I, JJ Maybank, am fucking the hottest girl in Kildare.”

You push his head away and press your lips together, trying to feign disgust, but you’re blushing.

JJ kisses you and wipes the look off your face. “So, 8?”

“You’re such a freak,” you laugh.

He opens the door and starts to slip out. “Only for you.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #obx #obx3 #obx fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rudy pankow #jj obx fic

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