#theres content to be written for him

[sthrnstar]

bi weekly rewatch of the cinematics feeling feral for lt price

[jackass-jones]

Really into the episode of Ouran where this girl confesses her love to Mori but he doesn’t feel the same because he’s into Honey and the girl’s reaction is just like YIPPEE I LOVE YAOI THATS SO COOL FOR YOU YAY 🥰

[arolesbianism]

In other news Odile crashed my game during her friend quest. Smiles in pain.

[simpjaes]

BIG D*CK FOR DUMMIES (s.jy)

The one where you find out that your boyfriend has a huge cock and you’re not entirely sure if you can take all of it. 

MDNI!!! | pls leave feedback and reblog your fave writers!

PAIRING ― jaeyun x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT ― 2.4k

CONTENT ―  first time, established relationship, top jaeyun, painful sex

NOTE ― this was originally written for a different idol on my other blog [ncteez] but i pictured jake in that one en o’clock episode doing this and went feral so……here’s ur giant package. 

smut tags― he’s a little cocky (lmao), i guess you could say size kink but it’s more like huge cock / tiny pussy size kink, theres some crying, praising, reader gets off like almost instantly and becomes incredibly cock drunk the second he’s able to actually fuck

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Things you knew about your boyfriend before dating: he’s very protective, super smart, has good taste in music, his hands are big and warm, and he’s very down to earth.

Things you didn’t know about your boyfriend until after dating and he’s on top of you during a moody and rainy night makeout session: his cock is huge and it’s very intimidating.

One might ask, how could you have not known? Well, that’s easy. It’s a fairly new relationship and a very shy relationship at that. It’s a bit embarrassing for you, actually, because it’s not like you don’t want to be intimate with him. You definitely do, and apparently so does he. 

It’s the first time in the three weeks you’ve been dating that you’ve gotten to be completely alone with him in an intimate setting. For one, you live with your parents, and secondly, he lives with three other dudes who like to be all up in his business. It’s not exactly easy to get alone time with him. Thankfully, your parents are out on a five-day holiday somewhere in the Bahamas and you’re here on your family couch with Jaeyun’s hands cradling your neck as you kiss him. 

It got heated very fast, presumably because the two of you haven’t really had the privacy to do more than a standing makeout session without someone listening in, or worse, walking in. It almost makes the air feel electric now, kind of like a breath of fresh air except the fresh air tastes like the fruity chewing gum he had in his mouth when he originally came over.

Here’s the thing though, and man, it’s a thing. Looking at Jaeyun you’d think he’s average at best and you’re not really the type to go around guessing dick sizes.  So, naturally, when he slots a leg between yours as he got on top of you and you fucking felt it against your leg, you were a little more shocked than anticipated. Maybe he let out a little snide chuckle at your reaction too, you wouldn’t know, you were kind of busy wondering when he was going to let you in on the secret. 

Now, here you are deep in thought of how the hell that thing is going to fit anywhere while simultaneously one hundred percent willing to make it fit because god, does he know how to makeout and feel someone up. 

The more he kisses you, the more his hands roam, the more you experience intimate touches with him, the more you feel like your skin is on fire and replacing that intimidation with extreme arousal and lust. All the way until the point that the presumed makeout playlist starts over and he finally pushes a bit further with you.

“Is this okay?” He asks, now slotting himself entirely between your legs and essentially pressing his length directly against the pool that is threatening to seep through your fucking denim shorts. 

You give him a half nod, trying to pretend that he’s definitely a normal man with a normal cock. He smiles though, knowing full well that this isn’t what you were expecting. No one ever expects it from him. 

“You seem occupied,” he comments, pressing himself against you a little more and leaning down on his arms to nip at your lips. “or shocked, maybe?”

You try to kiss him to shut him up, not wanting to expose yourself for being entirely inexperienced with a size like his. 

“Hm?” He encourages you, pulling back again and looking directly into your eyes with a confident smirk. 

“Well,” you shift your eyes away and sigh out, “you’re kind of huge…” 

He takes that compliment and runs with it. It’s not like the two of you have to finally have sex or anything, but you both knew what was happening and you both definitely knew what the other wanted. At least ten minutes ago that was the situation.

“Is it too much?” He asks, this time a bit more concerned that his own biology could ruin this for you. 

“Probably? no, maybe?” 

Jaeyun pulls away from you, moving himself to sit back against the couch and give you your space. Considering probably and maybe isn’t a yes, he feels no need to push or pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. There have been times where he’s hurt another person while being intimate, though not intentionally, he’s not exactly willing to do that to you unless you’re like, you know, jumping his bones for it. 

“Still, i’d like to try–” You start, looking at him as you sit up and feel your entire body tingle at the cold air that replaces his warmth. “Maybe if we take it slow– like, really slow?”

He looks at you with shining eyes. He asked you to be his girlfriend because he genuinely likes you. He likes your voice, he likes the way you smell, likes when you talk about your favorite songs and favorite movies. He was definitely smitten from the moment he saw you trip on your own two feet down the front porch of a house party months ago. Taking it slow with you was pretty normal, and the fact that you want him too just makes him all the more willing to take his time. 

“I’ll take care of you, ” he hums, spreading his legs a bit across the couch to give himself more space to re-adjust himself. “Just tell me if I need to slow down?” 

You nod, staring directly between his legs and rubbing your own together on instinct. If anyone’s gonna split you open, it might as well be your boyfriend.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When he said he would take it slow with you, he really meant it. The fact that he curled three fingers into you for a solid twenty minutes and you still feel like your legs will buckle on you at any moment knowing that this is just for prep– oh damn. 

 The fact that he even used his tongue on you for the first time, making sure you were more slippery than you already were for another twenty minutes? The fucking fact that you were on the verge of orgasm when he pulled it out and presented it to you like a cock you could totally sit on without issue? 

Fuck.

Reality washes over you far too quickly when you actually make that attempt. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel like you were being torn apart by him, but part of you loves the way his gentle hands hold you steady as you try to sink down. You can feel the wet heat between your legs coat his length inch by inch as you start to slide down.

He stops you only for a moment when he notices you wincing. 

“Breathe, baby, just a little more.” He encourages, getting a nod from you before guiding you down further.

You breathe, clenching around him and doing your best to stop doing that so you can relax. You can tell he’s struggling to actually take it slow by now too, only because you can feel his hands shake against you as he holds himself back from obliterating you, probably. You’d think it would be quite endearing to see, if it weren’t for the fact that your eyes are blurring from the tears threatening to fall. 

Feeling embarrassed, you wipe your eyes and focus on how he feels inside of you. The pain is still there, but as you “sit” here, that pain somehow does replace itself with a strange sensation of pleasure little by little. You’ve always wondered what it felt like to be full, and it appears that this is exactly it.

It’s overwhelming.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks after noticing your tears, a bit of panic in his voice despite the fact that you could have sworn hearing a moan come out alongside it, “Pull up, it’s okay, you can–”

You sink down further instead, now bottoming yourself out on him and releasing a broken whine of both pain and pleasure. He grunts in unison to your whine, gripping your hips even harder than he already was and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, lazily opening his eyes to look at the way you perch yourself on him so perfectly. “Such a tight fit.” 

You nod, mostly unable to hear a word he’s saying as you try to relax your body enough to get rid of that small hint of pain. The consistent clenching of your adjustments send your boyfriend spiraling a bit, unable to contain his sighs of pleasure as your tight and wet heat squeezes his cock.

“Tell me when I can move, please, tell me–” He groans out almost frantically, staring down at where you sit flush against him and wanting so badly to fuck into you.

 He’s wanted to do this to you since you started dating, now that it’s finally happening, and now that you’re quite literally jerking him off simply by adjusting to his size– you know, it’s not exactly easy to contain himself. 

You take a few more seconds to breathe before your body finally relaxes and you give him a reluctant nod. 

Instantly it’s like you’re seeing stars. He barely moves, all he does is flex his abs and press his hips up and it’s like he manages to fit another non-existent inch inside of you. 

You groan out, falling forward against his chest and gripping onto his shoulders as you feel your body adjust to even that small movement. To you, this is so fucking embarrassing, but to him? 

Hottest thing ever. Really. 

He can hear your whiny gasps against his neck when he moves and it’s driving him fucking wild, especially considering the fact that his cock is driven so deeply inside of you that he thinks you’d tell him to stop— but you don’t. 

You’re so good to him, and for what it’s worth, he wants to make sure this will be the best orgasm of your life.

Slowly, his hands fall to your ass and guide you up. You feel slight relief as a few inches leave you, and your stomach bubbles with that same sensation of both pleasure and pain when he slides you back down.

He moans out at you, almost like he’s cooing in pity at how much you’re trying to take for him. It’s incredibly sexy to hear now that your ears have stopped ringing and you’re beginning to believe that you’d never want anything smaller than him anyway.

This time, you lift on your own and sink back down just as fast, wincing again against his neck but releasing a moan that sounds more like pleasure than anything else. He sees this as a green light, gripping your ass and encouraging you to lift slightly again.

“Stay like this.” he mutters with a deep breath before kissing against your forehead and thrusting his hips up once, hard. 

The tight heat you’re offering sends him into a frenzy when paired with the wet slap of his pelvis hitting your pussy, and the sounds you’re making offer little in terms of stopping because by now, you’re both loving it. 

He thrusts into you with ease, the drag loud and slippery, the moans of pleasure you release only make him go faster, harder. Almost releasing a whimper of his own at how fucking perfect you are for taking all of it.

“Look.” he tries to let out, waiting for you to pull yourself up from his chest and look at him.

You do with ease, that broken face from before now replaced with lustful and blown out pupils. 

“Look how good you take it,” he praises with a groan, almost punctuating each word with a thrust, “knew you could take it.” 

Your broken smile that falls into a slack mouthed string of nonsense only continues to push him.  All the way until you can’t think straight at all, and you’re feeling your body tense up with such pressure that you can’t even warn him before your walls are clenching so tightly that it even hurts him. 

You grasp onto him for dear life as your orgasm washes over you, drenching his entire length as you hold your breath. Never have you gotten off while feeling so fucking full, and arguably, you don’t think you could ever feel an orgasm so intense without him being the one to split you open.

“There you go baby.” he hums, watching you breathlessly fall apart on top of him before picking up his rhythm again and chasing his own high.

By this point, you’re so well adjusted that even the searing pain of his restless thrusts feel good. Your brain is foggy but you can’t help but just fucking watch him.

This is your boyfriend and this is what it looks like when you’re making him feel good. 

“Are you close?” you start to bounce on him, meeting his rhythm and allowing him to rest his own hips. 

He nods as he looks at you, awestruck with how you’re already able to ride him as if you weren’t whining just moments before. Seeing you take him in full like this is enough to have his cock pulsing.

“Just a bit more, baby.” He closes his eyes and runs his hands up your waist. “Keep riding me, fuck.” 

And that, you do. Feeling proud of yourself for being able to actually take this literal monster, you focus on the twitch inside of you as he releases with a deep and breathy moan.

It’s entirely too sexy to ignore, and you continue to bounce even as he tries to hold you in place to subdue the sensitivity of his cock being fucking strangled by how tight you are. 

Once his body stops jerking and you feel the last twitching release inside of you, you fall forward and both of you groan from the sensitivity. 

“There are pros and cons to having a big dick, i guess.” he admits in a groan. 

Even when you laugh, there’s another wince from both of you followed by a groan.

“Pros: big dick.” he whispers, holding you still against him so you don’t move again before he can soften up and pull out. “Cons: big dick.” 

You still laugh, and it still hurts. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

me and my lame ass endings lmfaooooooooooooooooo

[therightbeaches]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 ⋆ 𝐚. 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

synopsis: following a near-encounter with death, your not-quite-boyfriend slash boss takes it upon himself to take care of you. [5.7k] contents: fem!bau!reader, reader was mentioned to be hurt but no gory descriptions about what happened, but theres semi-graphic (?) descriptions of hypothetical injury, first kiss, soft hotch, this is fully self-indulgent fluff (forgive me) a/n: i've never written for criminal minds before and i am rather nervous so please dont criticize too harshly :') + i tried to not make him too ooc (not sure how well that worked out.) i also beg for one-shot requests because i love writing them :p reblogs and comments are more than appreciated ♡ i hope you enjoy!

Sense by sense you come to.

Taste. On your tongue lingers the metallic taste of blood. It coats your throat thick like petroleum jelly. The aftertaste of artificial sweetener. Saccharine.

Smell. It’s sterile, alcohol swabs. Dully sweet like laundry. Coffee and creamer. So good and warm it’s nauseating.

Hearing. Steady beeping somewhere from your right. The rustle of fabric. Birdsong bleeds through thick walls. A phone rings, shrill and stark amongst the dull hustle and bustle outside of your room, and a woman speaks unintelligibly.

Touch. A pinprick tag itches against the back of your neck. Scratchy cotton sheets and a gauzy blanket and a too-flat pillow. Then a slow-burning hurt that climbs through your limbs like being devoured by flame, and you think that if you didn’t already meet your end then this must be what it’s like.

Your eyes blink open. The fluorescent lights above are too bright for you to see anything. Metal clinks as someone opens the curtains, then, Aaron’s face comes into your view in a hazy blur. He has a big bandage on his left cheek and prominent dark circles but otherwise looks well enough.

“Hello,” he says, and a warm paper cup of coffee is pushed into your stiff hands. “How do you feel?”

“Bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry. How much does it hurt?”

“Um... a six and a half. I mostly feel really out of it.”

“They’ve given you as much painkillers as they can. I bet that the brain fog will lift once you have something solid to eat.”

You push yourself up slowly as he edges into focus. In one hand he has a black duffel bag with your old shirt’s dirty sleeve hanging out of the zipper top, white fabric stained rust-brown with dirt and old blood. In the other, a thick manila folder with a seal adorning the front and his pen shoved into the crease.

There’s a strange silence then; strange within itself and strange in the fact that, with him, silence is never strange. His lips twitch downwards: he can feel it too. Then he inhales sharply as though it stings to speak.

“You were more than brave out there. You saved Julia’s life.”

“Thank you. That’s what I wanted to do.”

Your tone must not be convincing enough because he puts the bag down and curls his fingers around the half-rails of your bed, reinforces the idea with a pointed look and sighs, “I’m being serious. We wouldn’t have made it in time to help her without your courage.”

“Thank you,” you say again, milder this time.

He doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t need to. The sort of unspoken communication that blossoms with time and effort; he looks out for you, and in turn you look out for him. It’s the same for the rest of the team, of course, but it’s no coincidence that you’re the one he always picks to watch his six in the field. And, again, he needn’t speak for you to know. Perhaps born from the innate desire to wane the burn of vulnerability; words stamped across his skin invisible to the untrained eye.

It’s different this time, though. He’s leaving not because he wants to — rather, he has to, stolen away from you as you were him by your profession (a whole thirty-six hours he had to spend without you around to nag him, what a tragedy it was!) You’d expected him to come just to leave since the moment you saw him, but perhaps foolishly, you’d clung to a shard of hope that’d cut up and bloodied your palms. You rub them together self-consciously.

He waves the folder in the air unenthusiastically and, despite him knowing you’ve already put the pieces together, voices it anyway.

“I can’t really stay for long,” he says simply.

“Where are you going?”

A prompt, disguised by niceties in typical fashion, though entirely unnecessary with him: when will I be able to see you again?

He sucks on his teeth and flips the folder open. “Albany. I think a day or two at most and we’ll be back.” He spares the details of the case lest you worry yourself to your grave. Your recent brush with death has already been nearly too much for the team to handle.

You don’t mean to slip into the habit of doubting him, not Aaron, who knows better than to lie to you because always he’ll splinter, crack, then crumble into a fine powder under the weight of your gaze. He’s smart, so smart, and so perceptive and by God if you know anything, you know him — down to the lines of his fingerprints and each individual eyelash across his waterlines, and you know now that something is troubling him.

“What is it?” you ask.

His brows crease in the center like you’ve said something offensive. “What is what?”

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not,” he says, sounding like he’s sulking.

He knows something that you don’t and he doesn’t want to tell you — evident through the bob of his Adam’s apple with a thick swallow, the whitening of his knuckles around the bed’s guard rails. You give your cup a perfunctory squeeze and the plastic lid pops off and skitters to the ground.

There’s another silence wherein you wait, he waits too, staring at you dumbly. An eternity passes till he brushes his thumb over the length of your forearm, elbow to wrist, then traces the ridges of your knuckles before letting his arm drop limply to his side. He looks around to make sure nobody is within earshot and draws the blue privacy curtains around your bed to enforce extra precaution.

“I was just worried,” he finally says, his voice lowered. “I still am, honestly. You know, seeing you like… this.” Like, sick and weak, strung up with IVs like a puppet and unable to move without strain. “And I don’t want to leave you,” he adds as an afterthought.

In the presence of other agents, doctors, strangers, he’s a professional. He knows how to keep things curt and platonic, but when it’s just you and him, I missed you, I was worried about you, I need you around, I can’t lose you.

The way he speaks to you makes you feel something. He worries about you every moment you’re on the field. He frets over you when you’re ill, misses you when you’re apart, thinks about you all the time. Long ago you’d passed the threshold between mere team members to friends, and now, you’re touching base with what’s next. Beyond friends. Borderline lovers. Whatever that could mean for you. And the vulnerability in his voice strikes you, making him sound so small, so pained by your pain.

“You don’t need to worry,” you say, hoping to soothe his qualms. “I feel alright.”

“I can’t help it. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” is your light response, then a switch of the topic, and you ask again, “Will you tell me about the case?”

He puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, then it moves to push your hair out of your eyes. Lingers in a soft caress on your cheek and your palm fits over the back of it when you lift your hand to cover his.

“Like I said, I think it’ll only be a couple days. Don’t stress yourself out over it. I want you to focus on getting better, alright?”

“Can you call me?” you ask.

“Every chance I get.”

And, trapped in the makeshift prison of your hospital bed, you can only croak out a weak goodbye that scratches your throat as you watch him leave.

⊹₊ 𐙚

It’s been a week since they discharged you from the hospital, assigned a lot of rest and fluids. Seldom a word from Aaron, though, and you, too, are beginning to fret just like he had over you. Your cuticles are peeled from existence, you’ve bit your nails too short and raw and red, your lips are chapped to the point your mouth tastes of metal more often than not.

Penelope has been more than kind and has kept you company in your too-empty apartment, even bringing over the case file and a grainy image of the evidence board sent over by the rest of the team for your viewing pleasure. You didn’t have much of value to add and ended up feeling more useless than you were to begin with.

Now, your gaze is trained on the toes of your too-big socks. A seam is misaligned along the top and the heel has pulled up to the back of your ankle. And you think of him. He’s all you can think about as of late. Feels something like nausea crawling up your throat to think of something happening to him.

Nervous. On edge. Sick with worry. He said one or two days. It’s been six and counting, who knows what could have happened to him out there, he was being secretive about it and he’s never secretive with you. Not you, why wouldn’t he tell you what was happening? Why wouldn’t he let on any details about the case? What if he’d anticipated getting hurt or —

You don’t dare entertain the thought. The only reason you’d imagined it up in the first place is because it happened to you. In the end, you’re still very much human no matter how much bureaucratic authority you have. That’s to say, you’re very much flesh and blood and bone, and from the safety of your apartment Aaron is even more so when he’s out on the field. Flesh can be cut, torn apart, blood can spill unstoppably like a faucet, bone can shatter into a million unfixable pieces. A bulletproof vest will do nothing against a knife jammed into his neck or a shotgun to the back of his head. You shudder and tug at your socks to un-bunch them from your heels.

In the middle of your bout of overthinking, the lock on your door clicks and turns and it swings open with a quiet creak. Aaron stands in the doorway, backlit by the dingy lights outside, akin to an angel with the cast of his hair and the contours of his face dipped in shadow.

“Hello? Honey, I have something for you,” is the first thing he says, the silhouette of his arm twisted to hide something behind his back. From his other hand dangles his go-bag, which falls to the floor of your living room with a dull thud. He peels out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of a chair.

The relief chokes you. Strangles you till you’re blue in the face. You’re struck speechless and can only watch as he pushes the door closed behind him and tosses the keys into the catchall on the hall table, toes off his shoes, then comes over to sit with you on the couch. Plastic crinkles behind his back as he moves closer.

“I’ve got something,” he says again. “A present for you.”

“Aaron-”

“Before you say I didn’t need to, I wanted to,” he interjects, waving a hand to stop you. “I saw them while I was out and thought of you.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”

All turbulent emotions vanish like morning dew on a sunny afternoon, your heart thrumming hard against the confinement of your ribs. You let yourself think it’s only because you’re just excited to see him in good spirits, certainly not because he places a hand on your knee and squeezes lightly, or looks at you with poorly-concealed adoration in his gaze, or the knowledge of the fact he thinks of you often enough to go out of his way to get you something nice.

From behind his back, he produces a bouquet of pink roses wrapped neatly in a matching shade of cellophane with a flourish and you nearly fall to the ground. He’s brought you flowers. Roses. He saw roses while he was out and they made him think of you, and that thought alone nearly has you knocked out cold.

You’re able to mutter his name before you reach for his shoulders for a hug, and he lets out a small huff as he’s pushed down to lay back on the couch with your arms around him.

“Consider this my apology for being too busy to call,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you say, breathless. “Consider your apology accepted.”

His free hand rubs up and down your back, lingering flush to the space between your shoulder blades to press you close to his chest. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? Has Garcia been taking good care of you?”

You nod into his shoulder. “You know her.”

“That I do. Do you have a vase that I can put your flowers in?”

“There’s one in the kitchen cabinet.”

But he doesn’t yet stand to retrieve it, too engrossed in the warmth of your hug. This is not how a boss acts with his subordinate. Not even how a friend would act. If he were just a friend he wouldn’t come to you first, because your space is his space, and he wouldn’t have brought you a really nice bouquet, and he wouldn’t find such comfort in your embrace and the smell of your perfume that he goes slack under you. Him and you, always, together.

A moment passes and he shifts out from beneath you. You watch him get up with remorse, his hand holding onto yours till the distance draws his fingers away.

“You know,” he begins, rummaging around in your cabinets to find the aforementioned vase, “I’ve been honing in on my cooking skills.”

“That so?” you ask from the sofa, jelly-limbed with your neck craned to watch him.

“I can make stir fry if you want dinner.” His arm retracts from the cabinet, hand around the neck of your vase.

So he cooks for you. Insists upon it, even. Even though the hospital cleared you fine to go home and you feel more or less well, he insists on taking care of you. You let him. Maybe for his peace of mind. A chance to take care of you just like you’ve taken care of him countless times before. You won’t pretend to not like having him dote on you.

The roses sit between you, lit by warm candlelight because the overhead light buzzes too loud and the bulb flickers when you turn it on. It’s sweet and it’s romantic, shit, you really shouldn’t be getting so personally involved with your boss. The no-fraternization rules implemented by the Bureau higher-ups have been hammered into your skull since the day you joined, yet just look at you. Too late for go-backs now.

Over the table, you say, “You can stay the night, if you want to.”

It’s not that you’re implying anything because you’re not, voice void of sexual innuendo. He doesn’t seem to take it in such a way anyway. His gaze meets yours and he draws closer with a hand curled like a cage atop yours.

“I will,” he replies. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

He’s slept over before a secret half-a-dozen or so times, mostly on the couch. Only in your bed once. That one time was after you’d came home from a particularly bad case, and it was the second time you’d seen him as upset as he was. Beaten black and blue, scraped up worse than he’s ever been on the job. You’d diligently cleaned his wounds up (always too proud to sit in the back of an ambulance and let a professional take care of it), sat with him until he fell asleep, then you never spoke of it again.

Tonight he sleeps beside you. Blissfully unaware to the way you stare at his profile — the line of his nose, the mess of his hair where it’s fallen over his forehead, the way the light catches on his fluttering lashes and turns them a pale blue. The back of your knuckles run against his cheekbone. Tender, soft, so unlike most anything else he knows now.

He’s beautiful. All of you belongs to him.

You stir to Aaron’s heavy arm draped across your abdomen and crack one eye open to see him staring at you. The room is warm, sunshine spilling over his back to paint him shining gold, and the tip his of nose presses against your neck when he sees you’re awake. He must’ve gotten up before you woke because you can smell fresh-cut grass from the open window and the scent of coffee brewing floats in from the kitchen, and from outside you can hear the humming drone of a lawnmower, the song of morning birds chirping.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, more a murmur than anything.

You shake your head no. A part of you — the small part that yearned for his care and attention long before now — is awestruck. You’ve got Aaron in your bed, the same Aaron who bleeds and hurts and fights beside you, the man who hadn’t wanted you on the team in the first place, and he’s touching you like you’re made of glass.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m okay for now,” you reply.

“Are you sure, honey? I can cut up some fruit for you. You could do with some vitamins… maybe some sun, too.” Mournfully, he gets up from bed, leaving you with only the warmth of the sheets where he lay just a moment ago. You watch, blinking slow, breathing slow.

“I’m really fine,” you insist meekly, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

With hands planted on either side of your head, he leans back over you in bed, brows pulled in concern like you’re still bedridden in the hospital. His thumb ghosts over the delicate skin of your undereye, then lower, feather-light down the slope of your jaw and to where your collarbone peeks out from the neck of your shirt.

“I’ll bring you a bowl,” he says, disregarding the rejection.

And then he kisses you before he leaves to the kitchen. Nothing full-fledged, only a brief press of his lips to your cheek, but it renders a swell in your gut, too hot beneath your quilt, breathless like your heart is going to rip straight out of your chest and chase him down to kiss him again. The print of his lips burns white-hot. A brand on your skin.

He pauses in the threshold of your bedroom and looks back. “I’m sorry if that was… weird.”

“No! No, it wasn’t weird. I liked it, actually.”

“Oh, okay.”

Aaron fusses over you incessantly the entire day, from cutting your fruit up to holding your hand to help you to the couch, despite your insistence that you’re fully recovered. He isn’t so used to putting his feelings so brashly on display, but you’ve been walking this tightrope between friends and more for a while and it’s no secret he wants it. Wants you. Wants whatever you may have to offer. No matter if you’re well or not, he’ll want you.

“Thank you,” you say over lunch, picking idly at the tangerine he’d peeled for you. “For staying with me, I mean.”

He lifts his head. He’s opened the window above your sink, citing the lovely weather and your need for sunshine as his reasons for letting the bugs in, and it makes his eyes shine from his seat facing the sun.

You’re like a vampire, he had said. Don’t get me wrong, definitely a beautiful and kind one, but fresh air will do you good, then he’d laughed as he stood in the spill of warmth exuding from the open window.

In his hand is the other half of the tangerine, which he assiduously peels the spongy pith from and discards in a small heap atop your dining table.

“I hope you know that I don’t mind.” Aaron breathes out and hands you two slices stripped of their white viscera. “I like taking care of you. Every so often someone get hurts on the field and it never gets more comfortable to deal with. It makes me feel… good to be here with you.”

“That’s really nice of you to say.”

“It’s only the truth.”

You’ve been better for the greater part of a week and no longer need babying like you did at the start, you think, but withhold on commenting for fear that he thinks you don’t like having him around. You more than like it, really, and you like it even more when he leans over the table enticingly.

He’s smiling widely when he speaks. “And the company is the best part.”

“Even if the company is a vampire?” You touch the side of his throat, flush over his jugular where a vampire might bite. His heart thrums hard beneath the pads of your fingers when you push down with the faintest pressure.

“Even so.”

⊹₊ 𐙚

“Can I see you in my office? There’s something that I want to talk to you about.”

You stand from your desk. Aaron — rather, Hotch, because you’re at work — has been staring at you through his window the entire morning like a reverse-scenario zoo animal in an enclosure. It’s been unsettling to feel someone’s eyes on you perpetually but you let it slide because you know he’s just worried. He made it very clear that he didn’t want you coming back to the office so soon, for worry you might bump a fading bruise on the exceedingly dangerous desks in the bullpen or injure your back further by sitting in the expensive, cushy roller chair.

It’s an overcast Monday in light of your sunny weekend. Aaron had messaged you at five-thirty in the morning, insisted heavily that if you intended on coming in today then it had better be with a warm coat on. You’d come to a tentative middle ground via a knit sweater that he likes because Emily runs cold and makes sure the whole office knows it (Seriously, you can’t remember the last time she’d allowed it to be less than the low eighties, and most of the team would rather bear the heat than listen to her gripe about how cold it is. Today, it’s freezing. The heat is broken and you figure you’ll have to deal with it once she comes in.)

He’s waiting for you when you step in and close the door behind you, drawing the blinds. “How are you?”

“I’m well. I’d be better if you’d stayed home to rest.”

“I promise I’m recovered enough for desk work, Aaron.”

He grumbles with no real upset and beckons for you to come around the other side of his desk. When you do and lean back with palms braced over the lip, a broad hand slips around your waist to touch your back. He drops it quickly. So unprofessional, you might tease, if you weren’t so pleased with the fact that he’s unabashedly touching you at work.

Something in the air has shifted. Following the night you spent together, it’s as if the spark between you has turned into a real firecracker, a sparkling dazzle of neon color and fizzling light. He’d left Saturday afternoon after a lot of coaxing that you’d be alright alone, made you promise you’d eat real food and not just cereal and frozen pizza and TV dinners. Most importantly, he wouldn’t leave without kissing you silly all over your cheeks and forehead and jaw. And when you’d anticipated the killing blow and closed your eyes and parted your lips, he’d bid you goodbye with an affectionate pat to your shoulder.

It was cruel, but you don’t mind waiting for a real kiss. The riper the fruit, the sweeter the juice, isn’t that what they say? This thing, for lack of a better word, with Aaron being as discernible as it is, is still relatively new. Not to mention he’s navigating romance for the first time again after Haley, so you’re more than willing to take it slow with him.

“What did you do over the rest of the weekend?” he asks conversationally.

“You know, the ushe.” You tuck your cold hands between your knees, press your lips together like you’re really devastated by the answer you’d come up with. “I laid around feeling sorry for myself, missing you…” you trail off, wistful.

“You poor thing,” Aaron responds sympathetically. “What can I do?”

You lean forward with a mock show of great sadness, though not without an underlying coquettish, hopeful demeanor. “The only thing that would make it all better is dinner later tonight with someone special.”

“What a coincidence. I was just thinking of asking my own someone special if she wanted to get takeout and spend the night at mine after work.”

It’s awful, the way he’s staring at you and beaming. Like you’re the one who hung all the stars in the sky, crafted the constellations just for him; like you control the tide of the ocean and the spin of the Earth; like you’re the light that makes the moon glow. Makes you want to grab him by his hand and bring him back to your place and never let him leave the comfort of your apartment. Keep him safe and warm and content.

You settle instead on smoothing his lapels down. He isn’t propositioning you when he asks you to stay over — never would he be so blatant, and you don’t think you’re quite involved enough yet for such a risqué offer to be on the table (though the notion has you imagining a torturous handful of things that you wouldn’t dream of telling him about.)

“Tell you what,” he begins. He moves his chair to be positioned in front of you. You have to look directly down to see him face-to-face. “We’ll pick up some dinner and we can watch whatever movie you like. Do you have your go-bag?”

“I do... and if I want to watch Mean Girls?”

“I’ll watch anything you want,” he supplies.

“Oh, how sweet are you?”

“Don’t tell anyone. My professional reputation would be ruined.”

Truth be told, there is a prominent lack of ‘professional reputation’ in Aaron’s department, at least within the team. He can pretend as much as he likes for as long as he likes but it’s their specialty to sniff out lies, pick up on secret cues, and of course they notice when he comes into the office with two cups of coffee instead of one, when he holds your hand to help you up the steps of the jet. You’ve received enough conspiratorial looks to know that they know.

You don’t suppose Aaron is your boyfriend. Your relationship with him is a nuanced thing. Becoming the brunt of office gossip is one thing, jeopardizing your careers is another — Strauss has her suspicions and there’s been, well… talk that stokes the (albeit small) kindling flame. It comes down to having a discussion that will remain on the back burner until the both of you can sit down and discuss the professional implications and the other difficult things that Aaron doesn’t want to talk about.

Dark has long since encompassed the Bureau by the time that he decides to be done working. You’ve been waiting on the couch in his office for the better part of the day, his suit jacket draped over your legs fashioned into an impromptu blanket. And then there’s the shuffling of loose-leaf paper shoved into folders, the scratch of his chair’s wheels as he pushes it in.

The toes of his shiny oxfords come into view and a kind hand pushes a loose lock of hair out of your face. “Are you ready?”

He wedges his hand beneath the small of your back to get you up. You’re tired from your day and limp when he encourages you to sit, but ultimately allow him to prop you up against the back of the couch. You take his hand to stand up when he offers it to you.

One and a half years ago, he wouldn’t dream of holding your hand. Wouldn’t even sit next to you in the conference room or on the jet, in fact. But Aaron didn’t really start liking liking you until eight months ago and didn’t tell you for even longer. It took him a long while to gather the courage to come out and just say it like any normal adult with feelings might do.

If you told your former self you’d wind up holding hands with Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner, going home to eat dinner with him and sleep in his bed, you’d have laughed in your own face. The most you’d ever let yourself indulge in such a fantasy prior to his grandiose confession of more than friendly feelings was maybe, just maybe, in an alternate timeline you’d met Aaron under different circumstances and it would have been history.

But you have him in this timeline. You have him picking up your dinner, driving you to his house, crouching down in front of you to undo the buckles keeping the straps of your kitten heels fastened around your ankles. He rubs your calf after tucking your shoes away before he stands and walks to the kitchen.

“What a long day,” he comments. He loosens the knot of his tie and looks over at you over his shoulder. “For you especially, I imagine. Does it get tiring, laying on the couch in my office?”

“Mhm,” you hum agreeably. “A very long day of very grueling paperwork. My boss can’t stop assigning me more and more when there are other agents who could share the workload.”

You know Aaron is smiling, even as he’s faced with his back to you. It’s clear in his voice. “Maybe your boss just thinks you’re very diligent and produce quality work.”

“That sounds to me a lot like favoritism, Hotchner.” You saunter up behind him, draping your arms around his waist. He tears apart the plastic bag holding your food then separates portions onto two ceramic plates.

“Uh-huh,” he says wryly. “You see, honey, favoritism would be more like if I let a member of my team quote unquote lay down to rest her eyes on my sofa instead of doing her work like I very kindly asked — oh wait, doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“So I am your favorite? Ooh, how scandalous. Imagine if word got out that you were picking favorites.”

“I must be doing something wrong if you have to ask.” Aaron turns and puts a hand on the back of your neck, scoffs, shakes his head good-naturedly. This mood he’s in, playful, teasing, is so rare, and you love it. “Do you ever see me letting Morgan take a nap during work hours?”

“Derek will nap regardless if you let him or not.”

(This is true. You’d caught him sleeping in the conference room once. He’d made you swear not to tell Aaron in exchange for vending machine money — and who were you to deny such a generous offer? Your silence was easily bought via chocolate bars.)

“In that case, I might have to give him a stern talking to.” His expression is grim.

“Oh, please don’t. He gave me money to buy candy from the machines if I swore not to tell you.”

Aaron is delighted by this answer. “But you’re telling me anyway?”

“Does that make me a bad friend?” you ask morosely.

“No, no. You’re the best friend. And an even better subordinate for ratting him out… it’s good to know where your loyalty lies.”

He’s laughing when he says it and then he isn’t laughing a mere moment later. Rather, he’s leaning in on a whim, eyes fluttering shut, a hand over the back of your neck, thumbs a whisper against the curve of your cheek. There’s a perceptible flash that travels like lighting up your spine — he’s going to kiss you for real this time, you know he is, and it’s something you’ve wanted for who-knows how long and it’s finally yours to have. To keep. And it’s not just about the kiss, is it? It’s about Aaron, like it most always is, and you thank your lucky stars one by one to have found a man like him and to be able to keep him.

But it’s over nearly as soon as it began. How torturous for it to end so quickly when you’ve dreamt of kissing him day and night. It’s only right for you to go for another and another and another, and yes, juice is always sweeter when the fruit has had time to ripen.

[peterm4rker]

from the rooftops || m.l

in which biochemistry major mark lee didn’t have time to be swinging around the city fighting crime when he had a chemistry report due in two days and a whole plan to make the girl of his dreams to fall in love with him before the new years party.

or

in which journalism major y/n l/n needed her ground breaking story of the year before fuckass yuna took her place in the college newspaper and decided her favorite superhero was the answer, all while trying to get that cute biochem student to notice her.

★ pairing ;; spiderman!mark x journalist!reader

★ genres ;; social media au, written parts, superhero au, slowburn, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers.

★ featuring ;; ph1, aespa, bnd, riize, xikers, other nct units.

★ warnings ;; profanity, sexual jokes and innuendos, death jokes, alcohol use, maybe weed consumption, very mild stalking, let me know if theres more!

★ status ;; ongoing!

★ updates ;; new chapter every monday and thursday !!

★playlist ;; tba...

★ taglist ;; open!

★ blue's corner ;; i cant be peterm4rker without writing a spidermark au, can i? but anywaysss, i love yall enjoy this as much as i know ill enjoy writing it!

★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

we know what you are || store bought avengers

zero. hey guys…

one. you could do that

two. not quite

three. or so he thought (written)

four. LOCKED IN

five. MARK LEE 🫵🏼

six. mission accomplished

seven. you hate me cuz you aint me💅🏻💅🏻💅🏻

eight. who lied to you

nine. YOU BROKE ME FIRST

ten. the girl in the green beetle (written)

eleven. the bar is in hell

twelve. PREACH🙏🙏

thirteen. i should've ran

fourteen. NOT IT

fifteen. singles speak up✊🏻

sixteen. what a loser

seventeen. surprise picnic (written)

eighteen. crisis adverted

nineteen. I WISH I WAS😭

twenty. creepy as hell

twenty one. yn protectors

twenty two. the creep ™

twenty three. the conundrum

twenty four. mark fucking lee

twenty five. the start of the end

twenty six. idc😛

twenty seven. the date (written)

twenty eight. DAMN

twenty nine. im not this mans daughter

© peterm4rker, 2024-2025

[carbonfiction]

A little suprise

Summary: After another cosy Christmas morning shared together, it’s time for the gifts. Little things thoughtfully bought, wrapped and passed over. This year however, theres something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

Master list. Words: 1.2k

Warnings: tw mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy announcement. (Chosen to tw this simply bc im aware of how tough it can be for those struggling with conception/fertility ect, especially this time time of year. i want you to know my heart is with you, your time will come🫶) Lumberjack Logan is a sweetheart, mostly just a nice lil finding-out-he’s-gonna-be-a-dad Logan fluff with a smiiiiige of swearing. Lo calls reader “momma”

The parasites in me yearned for origins dad Logan, so I had to write origins dad Logan. Or in other words, its Christmas and I desperately can’t stop thinking about that large man with a teeeeny tiny baby.. Tadaaaaaa <33 merry Christmas loves!

Christmas morning was always peaceful in the howlett household. It would begin with sleep laced kisses, limbs tangled together as you hold each other close. It's hours before either of you actually leave the bed, too warm and content with eachothers presence to even consider it.

But when you do the first place you go, after the bathroom of course, is to the kitchen. Logan begins breakfast- or nearer brunch by then. While you make sure the coffee machine is switched on and freshly brewing the hot liquid into your usual cups- a cheesy wedding present from a friend, mugs that read 'Mr' and 'Mrs'.

Then, once dinner is roasting slowly in the oven for later, come the gifts. All soundtracked by a movie playing in the background. Little things wrapped and passed over- for you comes a cosy pair of pajamas with matching socks that you'd pointed out a while back, along with a little hamper full of your favorite treats; a perfect mix of sweet and savory to snack on when the mood takes you; or when wrapped up tighter watching a movie.

While you gift him a fresh collection of cigars and workboots that offer a little extra comfort to those long days he spends at the yard on his feet.

But.. Theres also something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

You steady yourself with an anxious exhale before you tap logan on the knee. "Theres one last one.." you say with a smile, quickly retreating to the bedroom and coming back to stand infront of him with a neatly wrapped box in hand.

Logans brow rises, a crease then wedging between them as he looks over the gift and its carefully tied bow. "Thought we agreed on a couple things each?" he murmers.

Hes right, you had agreed that, both having felt like each others company was all you really needed..

"Well, its a Surprise..” you trail, urging him to open it as nuterally as you could. Anxiety festering deep in your chest, part of you unsure just how this would go down.

Its silent as his fingers pluck and pull at the ribbon, deftly untieing it until its left in a pile besides him on the couch. Next is the lid, decorative tissue paper also following as his eyes rake over the unveiled contense.

"Sweetheart?.." logan questions in a whisper, fingers gently lifting out a pair of tiny booties and a matching flannel shirt; Both purposely mirroring items he owned. "what.. what’s all this?”

Logan feels his heart hammer in his chest, mouth going dry. are you telling him what he thinks you are?

“What’s it look like Logan?" you giggle softly, a hint of nerves in your eyes as you look down at him. You grasp an ultrasound photo and the positive test from the pocket of your sweats then, placing them in his hands over the little shirt.

You watch as his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, crease flying away from his brows as he takes in the words written on the test; illuminated by the soft glow of the tree lights. 'Positive'

“You-" he starts, words trembling dryly from his tongue. "you’re really pregnant?”

Tears begin to sting at your waterline as he looks up, your gazes meeting as you nod, bottom lip bitten tight between your teeth. "yeah, ‘m really pregnant.. gonna be a dad lo”

Sure, you'd had conversations in the past about this situation, had both agreed kids would be something you'd like to share one day, but you never actively began trying. Never fucked for the sake of conception. It had just.. happened.

A birthday celebration mixing with a slip up in taking your birth control- an accident you weren't sure you felt guilty for at this point, not with the look clouding over logans features.

Features soon shared by the little you or him growing inside you.

You wobble forward as Logans arms engulf your waist, pulling you toward him with the enthusiasm of a child receiving a toy they'd wanted forever.

Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, landing wetly on your fingers as they find home in the soft tufts of his hair.

“I’m gonna be a dad.." he murmers incredulous and full of wonder as his forehead presses into the fabric of your shirt. You dont know if hes talking to you or himself, but its just quiet enough for you to hear it through your now hiccuped sobs.

“Are you happy?” you sniffle, still slightly unsure. He feels you pull at his hair until his gaze meets you, chin resting gently on your ribs.

“shit sweetheart, yeah" he smiles and its bright on his face as he stands to hold you properly. Logans lips press against yours, the kiss filled with unspoken emotions as the addictive taste of him hits your tongue.

He holds you tightly at the waist for a few moments and its with trembling fingers he pulls back. His head dipping to look you in the eyes, touch twice as gentle when his hands come up from your sides to gently cup your cheeks. Calloused thumbs swiping at the tears that still fall "course I'm happy, are you?"

"Yeah. Yeah Im happy" you assure, teary eyes brightening. "beyond happy even"

A grin lights logans expression as he looks down, glittering as bright as the Christmas lights surrounding you.

"You know, I was.." he starts, clearing his throat as it crackles with emotion. "God i was just thinkin what a pretty momma you’ll make but.. you already are a momma huh.." one of his hands move again, deft fingers creeping under your shirt now until his large palm sits gently against the small swell of your stomach. Your heart skipping at the feel of the cool metal of his wedding band. "growing our kid in there..”

“Well, it’s technically sill early d-“ you go to say, but he cuts you off. “Your glowing already you know that sweetheart?"

His lips find yours again, fingers still cupping your jaw as his next words press against your mouth in a soft coo. "My beautiful girl.. Our baby's gorgeous momma"

Your arms wrap around his neck, swaying gently as love drunk grins adorn both your faces. The room filled with a new kind of excitement. A memory made you know both of you will remember forever. “i Love you Logan...” you affirm, hushed.

"Love you more sweetheart, like you wouldnt believe." he honeys back softly, stroking his thumb over your belly again "Giving me the damn world here"

Its silent then for a while after, appart from the crackle of the fire. Post dinner you both rest full, wrapped up in each others arms on the couch. you lying curled onto his chest.

Your fingers alternate drawing shapes and drumming on his left pectoral, wide grins still adorning your faces as you peek over at the test, photo, boots and flannel still sitting on the coffee table.

You hum softly then, breaking the silence with a simple whisper of his name. "Logan?"

He responds just as quiet, hand still not having left its new home on your tummy. "Yeah sweet girl?"

"Once i get huge.." you start with a teasing glint making logan cock a brow as he listens. "Im reserving the right to be carried around the house.."

That makes Logan chuckle, the louder rumble shaking beneath where you lay as you too break into a fit of giggles.

He shakes his head, lips kissing your hair softly as he speaks, still deeply amused. “Whatever you want momma, whatever you want."

Is this my best work? Fuck no, fluff is my kryptonite. But Was it a sweet thought? Yeaaa..

[trumanbluee]

lights out - deadpool / wade wilson

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

please reblog if you like it! ᡣ𐭩

content: theres a black out in your apartment. wade asks you, "what's one thing you've always wanted to try?".

word count: 3.9k (jesus, sorry)

warnings: pegging, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol, sub!wade, established relationship, fingering (m receiving), this is quite literally porn with very little plot

a/n: hi !! sorry this is such a long one! i've never written something like this before, so i hope it's okay! please let me know what you think <3

you're sitting on the couch, chin resting on the knee of your right leg, the other tucked underneath you. wade's sitting on the opposite side of the couch, and he leans forward to take a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table.

you take a sip of your rosé, leaning forward to get yourself a slice of pizza too. wade's fixated on whatever crappy show he's put on on the television, but you're bored (and horny, but that could wait until you were a few more glasses of wine deep.)

you huff, shuffling your position to place your feet in wade's lap. you finish your slice of pizza, setting your, now empty, glass of wine on the table. wade's still focused on the television, so you gently tap his thigh with your foot. he still doesn't look.

you sigh, slightly annoyed that he's giving the tv more attention than he's giving you. you give him one more opportunity, tapping his upper thigh with your bare foot once again. wade catches your ankle, attention finally turning towards you.

he's smiling at you, and he looks so cute and cosy in his pyjamas that you almost outwardly coo.

"whats up, baby?" he asks, thumb rubbing circles on the soft skin of your ankle. you smile softly at his caresses, but furrow your eyebrows slightly as you answer his question.

"..m'bored," you whine, rolling your head back against the pillow thats propping you up against the arm of the couch. wade chuckles, squeezing your foot affectionately.

"bored, huh? what do you wanna do, doll-face? i told you you could pick the show."

you shrug and go to speak, but are interrupted by a flash of light outside, followed by the booming sound of thunder echoing through the apartment. the lights flicker above you, before the room goes completely dark.

"..shit," you hear wade murmur, watching as the tv and fridge turn off too.

"y'better get creative, pookie-bear. power's out."

you groan, getting up and bringing the bottle of wine over to the couch, pouring yourself another glass. you also bring the candle you had lit in the bathroom, the light slightly illuminating the room. you sit back down on the couch, laying your feet back in wade's lap. he resumes his soft circles on your ankle.

"so, pookie, whatd'ya wanna do?" wade asks, taking a sip from his beer. the room is barely lit by the candle you've brought out, and you can only make out that wade's looking at you because of the city lights streaming in through the window behind you.

you shrug, taking a sip of your wine.

"i don't know, baby," you say, leaning forward to scratch an itch on your knee. wade uses this as an opportunity to pull you closer to him, nestling you into his side.

you don't put up any fight at all, easily settling in to his arm pit as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

you sit in comfortable silence for a while, the hand thats not holding your wine glass tangles with wade's hand as it hangs off your shoulder, occasionally squeezing it softly.

the silence doesn't last long though, to be expected when you're with wade wilson -- but you don't mind, you'd happily sit there and let him drone on and on about whatever he was particularly animated about that day.

wade's voice cuts through the silence, and you hear him swallow as he takes another sip of his beer.

"if you could be any vegetable in the world, what would you be, and why?"

you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, pressing your face into wade's side to stifle your giggles.

"what the fuck question is that, wade?' you laugh, looking up at him. you're close enough to be able to make out his face in the darkness, and he's looking down at you, a fond smile on his face.

he puts on a serious voice, stating sternly, "a very fuckin' serious one, princess."

you laugh, shaking your head, but you answer anyway.

"i'd be a cucumber, i think."

wade chuckles, and you feel it rumble in his chest as you lean into him.

"a cucumber, huh? why? 'cause you're cool as fuck?"

you laugh, nodding your head. "exactly, baby. y'know it."

he chuckles, taking another sip from his beer.

"what else've you got for me, wade-y?" you ask, tilting your head to look up at him. he puts a finger to his chin in thought.

"chocolate or vanilla?"

you laugh softly, looking at him with an 'are-you-serious?' expression.

"you know this already, doofus."

he puts his hands up in mock defence, "fine, fine. um... marvel or dc?"

you laugh loudly at this, stifling your giggles into wade's shirt again, shaking your head with a smile.

"..well... batman is the best super-hero, maybe ever.." you say trailing off, "but probably marvel, i guess, 'cos you're not dc, baby."

wade laughs, and you hear him mumble a playfully dejected, "fuckin' batman" to himself.

you laugh, leaning forward to pick the bottle of wine up off the coffee table, pouring yourself another tall glass of rosé. wade guzzles the last of his beer, setting it down next to the now empty wine bottle.

he leans back against the couch once again, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you back into him.

wade's hand slips beneath the fabric of your top, his hand gently rubbing the skin of your shoulder and the top of your arm.

"..last one, mm baby?" he says, continuing to caress your skin.

"what's one thing you wanna do with me that we haven't done yet?"

you almost scoff at this, knowing exactly what wade is trying to suggest. he's been trying to get you to let him fuck you up the ass for awhile now, but you'd always said no. so, you were gonna flip the script on him.

you pretend to think, eyebrows furrowing as you tap a finger to your chin in fake deep thought. you struggle to hide your smirk, stifling it by having a sip of your wine.

"hmm," you say, and your cheeks heat up as you go to speak, though you convince yourself its all the wine you've had, "..always wanted to try pegging, actually."

wade almost gives himself whiplash with how quickly he turns to look at you, your wine almost sloshing over the rim of your glass at his jostling.

"...wha-" he shakes his head as if trying to clear it.

"come again? this time in my ear?" he says, cupping a hand around his ear as though he didn't hear you.

you roll your eyes, playfully shoving wade's shoulder.

"i know you heard me, wade." you say, voice sounding bored, but your face shows your amusement, a smile poking at the corners of your mouth.

he takes a beat, looking at you and trying to figure out if you're serious or not.

"...you... you wanna... peg me?" he asks, his eye contact almost too intense as he speaks slowly.

"yes, wade." you say, matter-of-factly, "i know you did it with vanessa, and i wanna see what all the fuss is about. plus, maybe it'll finally shut you up." you throw that last part in as a joke, an attempt at disguising your obvious jealousy of vanessa knowing a part of wade that you didn't.

wade groans breathily, leaning his head forward to press into your boobs.

"..fuck, doll-face, why didn't ya' say something' sooner? y'tellin' me that i've been begging to fuck you like that, whole time you've wanted to do it to me?"

you nod, feeling sheepish the more the conversation continues. you feel your cheeks warm up, and quickly go to dismiss the idea.

"forget it... it's not--"

you're cut off by wade pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

"who said i didn't want you to do it, hotstuff? fuck, can you imagine how hot that'll look? maybe we should record it."

you laugh, pushing him back by his shoulders.

"i think you're getting ahead of yourself a little bit, baby."

wade smiles, mostly to himself, and shakes his head in what seems like disbelief.

"i can't believe you wanna peg me," he mumbles, pressing a sloppy kiss to your pulse point. your breathe hitches, but you push him off.

"you asked me the question, wade!" you laugh, lightly shoving him off of you and leaning forward to put your wine glass on the coffee table.

wade gasps dramatically, holding a hand to his heart as you shove him off, albeit lightly.

"i did, didn't i?" he grins at you, "well... i can't deny the princess, can i? lets make the magic happen."

you giggle, not taking him seriously. he quirks an eyebrow at you.

"what? you don't think i'm man enough to handle it?"

he makes a show of flexing his arms and puffing his chest out.

"why don't we find out right now?"

wade jumps off the couch, grabbing your arms and pulling you up, leading you towards your shared bedroom.

you laugh softly, "baby! baby, wait... y'need to slow down," i laugh breathily, a twinge of excitement nestling in my stomach.

wade's already dragged you to the bed, and is in the middle of taking his sweatpants off, his t-shirt already discarded on the floor somewhere.

"y'gotta be like... warmed up first, right?" you ask softly, your cheeks turning pink slightly. wade coos.

"well... i mean... i can just heal, but..."

you cut him off, screwing your face up in disgust.

"what? wade, shut the fuck up. m'not just shoving a plastic dick up your ass with no preparation. i wanna do it properly."

wade's face softens at your words, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your lips before pulling his boxers down.

you know wade has a strap on, and he retrieves it from it's resting place amongst the rest of your sex toys in your wardrobe as you undress yourself.

wade turns around from the closet, his arms dropping to his sides as he takes in your naked body.

"fuck baby, y'so beautiful." he bites his lip, walking over and placing the strap on on the bottom of the bed.

you blush, shyly mumbling a thank you. wade laughs at your reaction.

wade must sense your uncertainty, and he throws you a bone.

"where d'you want me baby? on all fours on the bed?"

you nod, cheeks turning a deeper pink at the crassness of the situation. you take a deep breathe, putting the strap-on on and kneeling on the bed next to wade.

you spit into your hand, bringing it down to half-heartedly stroke his hardening cock. he groans, hips grinding into your hand softly.

"fuck, baby... don't stop.."

you pull your hand off at wade's words, reaching for the lube in the drawer of the bedside table. you squirt some onto wade's asshole, spreading it gently with your thumb.

wade lets out a deep breathe, burying his face into the pillows, muffling his moans as you slowly work your finger into him.

"s'this okay, baby?" you ask, unsure as you slowly press your lubricated finger into wade.

you don't get a reply, only breath moans as wade pushes back against your hand, "..please, baby... more..."

you shush him gently, working your singular digit deeper into him, curling it slightly.

wade lets out a soft groan, "..fuuck... just like that," he whimpers into the pillows, pushing his hips back to meet your finger.

"so good..so fucking good." he mumbles, and that spurs you on. wade already being fucked out from just one finger feeds your ego, making you feel more confident.

you rub his asscheek with your unoccupied hand, cooing a soft "relax, baby."

you hear him take a deep breathe, and his hole relaxes slightly. wade keens into your touch as you continue your soothing circles on his ass, quickening the pace of your singular finger.

"..please, princess.. more.." he whines, pushing his hips back to meet your finger.

deciding that he's stretched enough, you push a second finger into his asshole, scissoring the two to spread him open. you watch as wade's hips mindlessly buck forward, and you can see his pre-cum leaking onto the sheets.

wade cries out in pleasure, the sound muffled by the pillows. his hips buck forward as your second finger enters him, his body tenses at first, but he relaxes, whining softly as he pushes back to meet your hand.

"..fuuck, yes... jus' like that.." wade whimpers, shoving his face into the pillows beneath his head.

you rub soothing circles on his asscheek as you scissor your two fingers inside him, trying to loosen him up and prepare him for the strap-on.

"good boy, baby," you praise, caressing the curve of his ass as you move your fingers in and out of him at a quicker pace, "taking my fingers so well, yeah?"

wade nods frantically into the pillows, already too lost in pleasure to form coherent words. he pushes back to meet your hand, and you can feel his asshole loosening around your fingers as you scissor them open inside him.

you watch as his hole starts to relax and loosen around your fingers.

"m'gonna make sure you cum before i fuck you, kay baby?" you coo at him, your hand still rubbing your soothing circles on his skin.

wade whines as he moves his hips back to meet your fingers, nodding eagerly at your words.

"..y-yes... please... need t'cum.." he babbles from beneath you. you smile at his desperate voice, and begin to shove your fingers deeper into his ass, curling them up in search of his prostate.

at the same time, you reach the hand that was rubbing soothing circles on your ass around to stroke his cock, smearing his pre-cum down his shaft and swiping your thumb skilfully over the tip.

wade moans into the pillow, hips bucking into your fist, and you can tell by the way his length throbs in your hand that he's close. you fuck your fingers into wade with the same pace as you stroke his cock, watching as his hips stutter in uncertainty of whether to buck forward, or push backwards.

"c'mon, baby.." you murmur, squeezing your hand around his cock. the sensation of your fingers inside of him, and your hand tugging on his cock, is too much for wade to handle, and he strangles out a guttural moan into the soft pillows as he cums, his body tensing up as he empties himself onto your hand and the bedsheets beneath him.

you feel his asshole clench around your fingers as he shoves his face into the bed, his cock going soft in your hand as the last bit of his cum spurts out onto the sheets.

wade collapses onto the bed, spend and out-of-breath, his body relaxed and pliant, limbs heavy with post-orgasm bliss.

"mmm.. that was.. so good," he hums sleepily, burying his face into the soft pillows, "..now.. please.. need you inside me.." he whines softly.

you smile down at him, still seating on your knees on the bottom of the bed. you lean forward to capture wade's mouth in a soft kiss, rubbing his back soothingly.

"y'sure, baby?' you check in with him, wanting to make sure this was something he wants to do, though who were you kidding? wade was the freakiest person you knew, of course this was something he wanted to do.

wade lifts his head slightly, looking up at you through bleary eyes.

"..please, baby.." he whines softly, brows knitting together.

you smile at him softly, still rubbing his back soothingly, "m'kay, baby. get on your hands and knees for me, can you honey?"

he nods, slowly getting up and moving into position, his movements a little clumsy as his legs wobble from his previous orgasm. he rests his head back on the pillows, turning to look at you over his shoulder with a sleepy smile.

"like this, baby?" he asks, voice so small sounding that you can't help but coo at him.

you nod, smiling at him and affectionately rubbing the curve of his ass.

"good boy, honey." you praise, and wade's cheeks flush at your words, a strange mix of embarrassment and arousal flooding through hi as he bites back whatever noise of pleasure he was about to make.

"m'not a dog," wade mutters, causing you to scoff, laughing softly.

"no, y'not. what? you don't like being called a good boy, wade?" you ask, putting on a stern voice, though you're teasing him, having seen the way he bit his lip to stifle his noise.

his face heats up even more, if possible, and he lets out a small, embarrassed, whine.

"s-shut up.." he glares back at you, but there's no way of hiding the way his body reacts to your words, his heart racing and cheeks burning hot.

you laugh, almost cruelly, spreading lube down the length of the strap-on before lining up to wade's asshole.

"y'ready, honey?" you ask, voice soft as you rub his hip softly.

he takes a deep breathe from beneath you, letting it out slowly as he nods. he bites his lip, butterflies swirling in his stomach as he feels the cold lube against his skin.

"..y-yeah.. do your worst... or best?" he mumbles, looking at you over his shoulder, a gentle smile on his face.

you laugh softly, spreading his ass open with your hands before pressing the tip of the strap to your asshole.

"relax for me, baby.."

he takes another deep breathe, slowly letting it out as his body relaxes, his shoulders slumping forward slightly. you press the tip of the strap-on past the tight ring of muscles, and wade lets out a low moan, his fingers gripping the pillows tightly.

"..m-more..." he whimpers, pushing back against you.

you rub his ass soothingly as you slowly press into him. he whimpers and moans beneath you, his body tensing and relaxing in turns as he adjusts to the sensation.

he buries his face in the pillows, voice muffled as he begs for more.

"..please, baby.. s'good.."

you coo softly, pressing further into his tight hole as you continue your soft circles on his hips, "good boy, baby... takin' me so well.."

his cheeks turn pink at your words, and he pushes back against you, moaning as you bottom out inside him.

wade lets out a deep, shuddering moan as you fill him up completely, his body going tense and then relaxing as he adjusts to the sensation. he whimpers, and you can almost see the thoughts leaving his mind as you fuck into him with shallow thrusts.

"..oh, fuck... so good," wade mumbles into the pillows.

"such a good boy, wade," you coo, stilling your hips to let him adjust to the size of the strap-on inside him.

he lets out a low whine, shifting uncomfortably against the sheets, feeling empty and restless without your steady thrusts. he tries to push his hips back to meet yours desperately.

"..c-come on... keep goin'.." he begs, looking back at you over his shoulder, "..need it... n-need you.."

you tut, "barely fucked you, and you're already a mess, baby."

you begin moving your hips at a painstakingly slow pace. wade lets out a sharp gasp, his body writhing beneath you. he moans into the pillows, his hips moving back to meet your thrusts, your hands on his hips guiding him softly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles.

wade moans underneath you, jolting forward with every thrust you push into him with. you angle your hips up, searching for his prostate with every thrust.

you know you've found it when you hear a loud keen from wade, his face shoved into the pillows as he arches his back, as he moans loudly.

you keep your pace, angling your hips the same way over and over, feeling wade's thighs begin to shake as you rut into him. you squeeze your hands on his hips harshly, nails digging into the skin slightly.

he hisses beneath you, babbling nonsense as he whines incoherently. i continue my steady rhythm, relishing in the pretty noises slipping from your lips every time i thrust forward. i spit in my right hand, leaning forward and slipping my arm underneath you, wrapping my hand around your cock and tugging softly.

you feel wade's hips buck into your hand, listening to his soft whines as you skilfully swipe a thumb over his slit, smearing his pre-cum down his length as you continue the rhythm of your thrusts.

you tug at wade's cock, feeling his hip stutter with uncertainty of whether to buck into your hand or or push back against your thrusts.

"look at you, huh?" you tease meanly, slowing the drag of your hips, deliberately hitting the spot inside of him, over and over, "big, bad Deadpool, so fucked out by his little girlfriend he can't even form a thought."

you squeeze your hand around his cock, listening to him whine, babbling something that sounds like," ...f-feels so.. good..." into the pillows, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth.

you know he's getting close, his length throbbing in your hand as you twist your fist around it, slamming your hips into him.

"c'mon, honey.. y'gonna cum for me?" you coo, thrusting into him harshly as he ruts into your hand, his high-pitched moans muffled in the cushions.

he whines, a gently, "u-uh huh.. m'gonna..."

you deliver a particularly harsh thrust to his prostate before you feel his body tense up beneath you, legs quivering as he groans into the pillows, back arched as his hips jerk into your hand, thick ropes of cum spilling out onto your hand and the sheets below him.

you slow your hips, gently fucking him through his orgasm, cooing soft words of praise as his body goes slack beneath you with a guttural groan. you rub soothing circles on his back as you slowly pull out of him, a soft whimper sounding from him at the loss of contact.

you take the strap-on off, discarding it on the dresser before crawling up the bed, slipping in next to wade. he instantly snuggles into you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck.

"how'd i do, baby?" i ask gently, voice barely above a whisper as you lay against me with your eyes closed. i know you're not asleep because i can feel you tracing soft circles on the exposed skin of my upper thigh.

"so good, doll-face," he mumbles against your skin, "..fuck, i can't believe you didn't let me record that. y'know the numbers that shit would get on only fans?"

i laugh softly, shaking my head, "next time, baby -- maybe. m'not making any promises."

wade goes silent for a second, before asking, his voice soft, "did you like it? was it.. fun f'you?"

you pout at how cute he is, twisting your body beneath the sheets to face him.

"wade, i just got to shut you up for more than a minute, of course i loved it." you giggle softly, bringing wade's hand up to your mouth and kissing his knuckles softly.

"seriously, i had fun, wade. don't worry about that." you assure him when he gives you a pointed look, eyes softening as you press your lips to his knuckles.

wade smiles cheekily, pulling you into him, "well, if that's how you're gonna shut me up, maybe i should start talking more, huh?"

you give him a look, laughing, "are you sure that's even possible?"

he smiles, "remember what happened the last time you thought i couldn't do something?"

©trumanbluee - reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! but i do not wish for my work to be republished, translated, or copied. thanks!

taglist: @tvwebs @muteprincess @blckbarbiedoll @dwthisuserisalive @catts-world @helpyourself-9 @tiredemzz @starstruckracc @imcrying24 @aintsoprettynow @thedevilsaysthings @darerlin @tokkiwrites

[thornethenorn]

My favorite "canon" Pact Commander facts

Victory and Death.

Eats anything. Anything. Would eat uranium

Adopts 34 cats, eventually goes on to rescue sick wild animals in the JW story.

Is as dumb as rocks. (Asura comms are a bit of an exception)

The commander is, presumably, very attractive.

There's an entire list of characters who are attracted to them, but they refuse all offers of sex.

Because of this, Snargle told them to buy a jade tech sex toy because they were 'so tense'

Despite being a prude (/j) they have read every Snargle Goldclaw book (which, despite being called risque romance from the author, we know is just smut with a little bit of plot. Booktok would love him)

While there are others with the title of 'Commander,' they never appear after lws2, and theres been no other "THE commander"s. Even though the commander stepped away from the pact.

The Commander likes heavy metal music.

There's a Commander Fan Club.

To save on voice acting in recent stories, the commander's pronouns are now almost always 'they/them," including written content. ANAW. Assigned Nonbinary at Wizard.

The norn Commander is a blackout drunk and stole a whole ass fucking tank while blackout drunk

They canonically view Aurene as their daughter

They've been fataly wounded three times, and are still up and running around

[generalsmemories]

HELLOO THEREE!! i love how dedicated you to jing yuan!! Can i have req for 1k event???

Fluff sentences "8" + fluff scenarios "4"!!

Thank you so much!!

I keep looking forward to your JY work!!

Bedrest

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: Not letting the sick one move an inch + playing with their hair until they fall asleep & "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me." "And you're just going to get worse if I don't" || 1k event also requested by @/thetwinkims

✧ content: fluff, established relationship, i swear it's just fluff like for once there's no hidden angst over here.

✧ a/n: hello fellow jing yuan lovers, i'm still alive. this was once again written at 1 AM and not edited at all so if there's any writing mistakes, no there isn't. the initial plan was to keep this one in the drafts while I also write other WIPS to feel productive but i have honestly starved ya'll for months at this point i'm so sorry i'm back with milk.

have soft jing yuan just giggling, is he delirious, sleepy or just in love? we don't know.

If you could describe Jing Yuan in one word other than mischievous, it would be stubborn. The General of the Xianzhou Luofu is too stubborn for his own good, you don't know if this stubbornness of his is rooted in his desire to protect Luofu from danger, or from the fact that he just dislikes when people wish for him to do something in particular.

In any case, his stubborn and mischievous nature could very well be linked to that of a feline - which he himself has been told that he share similar traits of, despite being fully human.

You just wished that he would be less stubborn when it also came to his health.

"Jing Yuan, how many times have I told you to just lay down…!" you say whilst gritting your teeth, using almost every ounce of your strength to push the general back down on the bed. Jing Yuan merely lets out a quiet chuckle, still trying "playfully" wrangling with you. "I'm injured, not sick, dear." he says, to which you merely roll your eyes in exhaustion.

Jing Yuan truly loves it when you finally forego your usual gentle demeanour to a more brazen one. It's usually a side of you that only he can see, more so because he's the only one who can annoy you enough to make you realize that gentle words and probing won't get you anywhere.

"I don't think someone with a temperature of 40 degrees is only injured, darling. Now can you please just lay down before you reopen your wounds?" you plead once again, pressing the heels of your palms further down Jing Yuan's broad shoulder which shook in quiet laughter at your desperate struggle.

"I'm wide awake after having taken numerous naps because per your request though?" he informs, finally settling back down on the bed which finally allows you to lean back to sit on the edge of the bed again. "Last time you insisted that you were fine, I had to get Mimi to help haul you up the stairs because you could barely move." you remind him with a huff, Jing Yuan turning over on his side to face you, his already messy bangs sweeping over to the side to almost cover his right eye.

He didn't say anything, his arm was still laid behind his head to act as another form of cushion while the other rested lazily over the bedsheets. You could however see the golden eyes peering deeply into your own between the grey strands. A silent request that he didn't dare utter to you.

Jing Yuan rarely requested things from you after all.

With a sigh, you turn your body over and hoist your knees over the bed. Nudging Jing Yuan's arm aside with your hands, "Move them." you quietly demand, the same golden eyes that were peering at you blinking in slight confusion. "What for?" he questions softly while moving his arm upwards.

You don't reply, merely raising the thin blanket up to lay down beside Jing Yuan - making sure that you were hoisted a bit higher up than he was. You snake one arm around Jing Yuan's neck, a silent request to make him scoot closer to you.

When he's close enough, you hook your chin over his head while pressing his face towards your chest, the other arm wrapping around his hair. "There we go."

A few beats of silence passes by, you can feel Jing Yuan take in a few more breaths than normal whilst his eyelashes brush against the material of your shirt, the material thin enough to feel every movement of his face that's pressed against the upper part of your torso.

And then he's shaking in another quiet chuckle, "You're going to get sick if you keep coddling me at this point, darling." he says, and yet the arms that snake around your waist and the way he snuggles deeper into your chest indicates that he won't let you go now that he got you within his grasp.

He can tell that you're rolling your eyes yet again. You decide to answer his jab with a small peck on top of his head, mostly focusing your attention to the locks of hair in between your fingers, curling a particular strand around your finger whilst your other thumb is busy rubbing soothing circles at his hipbone. "And you're just going to get worse if I don't."

The general merely huffs out a laugh, replying to the peck on his head with kiss against your shirt. "You spoil me way too much." is the last thing he whispers, before he quickly falls into a deep slumber.

Because you both know that Jing Yuan truly never sleeps unless you're near him.

[sweetieviktor]

"cuddles? cuddles!", feat. steb.

summary: after patrol, steb come home asking for cuddles!

word count: 300.

content warning: just fluff!! :D ((and this may be a little bit ooc since he got so little screen time

author notes: okay, theres almost 1 month since i’ve written something for this blog and im really sorry for it (but hey, at least im 18 now and looking for a job :)). i hope this count as an apology lol. hope yall like this!

after a hard day at work, steb favorite thing to do is to lay down on your bed and just listen to you and all the sounds coming from outside your home. the raindrops were hitting softly against the window, the dark clouds blocking any source of light, no voices could be heard in the streets, a peaceful night. perfect to cuddle.

he rolled to your side of the bed, stealing some of the blanket while doing so, but now he was closer to you, sharing his warmth. you wouldn't need the blanket anymore, would you? he poked your arm once, twice. his shiny eyes looking up at you, secretly hoping you would get his intentions.

you tried to contain your smile, looking at the ceiling, not wanting to fall for his charms again. he did this every time, he annoyed you till he got what he wanted. he pushed his upper body up, using his forearm as a support. looking over you now, he blocked almost all the ceiling, still making this face, glossy eyes, pout lips and turned down ears. the same face he knew you wouldn't say no to. “urgh, fine! but give me back my part of the blanket.”

you snorted while he smiled smugly once you opened your arms, letting him accommodate himself over you, adjusting the blanket so it could shield you both from the cold atmosphere on the outside. he propped his head over your chest, taking your hand in his and kissing your palm shortly, bringing it to his hair. you knew what he meant, so you played with his hair till his ears dropped and the scales around his eyes moved softly, only reacting when your fingers touched his scalp again, letting go of any stress from earlier. he surely looked adorable when sleepy.

[milkbreadtoast]

SAY NO MORE-- the huge grin i had reading this🥹🥹🥹 I'M SO EXCITED TO READ MORE..!!!! i had no idea it had over 600+ chs(im only in the 30s rn) but thats also good bc i have plenty of material to read... I'm rly happy to hear that u think it's as good/meta as orv too omg... im also ecstatic to hear it's rly popular in korea and there's an active (kor) fandom!!! TY FOR WRITING ALL THIS and U HEAR THAT GUYS... PLS GET INTO THIS W ME IM GOING INSANE ALL BY MYSELF🙉🙉😫

posting abt it here too.... its been a while since ive gotten rly invested in a new webtoon but im rly enjoying this one...

I just clicked on it bc the art style looked cute... and it IS but I didn't expect to actually get so invested 😭😭 It's an adaptation of a webnovel, and it's a twist on the fantasy romance novel isekai genre!! I have no interest in normal romance novel isekai stories tbh, theyre just so boring to me... the only novel isekai I've enjoyed so far have been subversions of the genre... orv, surviving romance,,, so what im saying is im enjoying this bc its also a subversion-!! (So far it doesnt seem to be a romance at all, and the guy being isekai'd hasnt even read the book so it's interesting bc he has to do like detective work to figure out whats going on... ) Here's the synopsis:

There's not many chapters of the webtoon out but I'm already liking it a lot😭😭 I actually couldnt wait so I found a translation of the webnovel and I started reading it too... It goes into more detail than the webtoon and I can't wait to read more aaah😭😭 Making this post in the hopes of getting someone else to read it with me bc i feel insane rn dkfbndnd

[kawoala]

WINNING YOU w. ushijima - chapter five.

⨳ word count ; .8k (800)

⨳ content warning ; smau 、 profanity 、 written section 、 shiratorizawa winning again… 、 scared & anxious & WIMPY! reader (i say this with love) 、 TW: ushijima texts first 、 feelings realization.

previous ; masterlist ; next

right now, there are mere seconds before shiratorizawa academy's boys volleyball club walks through the gym doors that you have your eyes glued to. you're sitting on the bench - like you have been for awhile now - leg bouncing anxiously.

you don't know why you're so nervous. you've met the guy before - hell, you've run into him before! why is this so much more nerving than it was before you ran into him?

maybe it's because, now, he knows how much you ramble when given the chance. or, maybe it's because he's seen the way you text people. or, maybe it's because not only will he know who you are, but the rest of his team will as well.

you pull your bottom lip into your mouth and bite down, gnawing at the skin there - a nervous habit you've had since you were young, something you haven't been able to kick. kind of like your thoughts about ushijima.

sometimes, when you ought to be doing important things, like studying or writing things down on your clipboard, your mind drifts to ushijima. not anything specific, really. just him.

finally, you tear your eyes away from the door, over to yachi, who's doing the same thing as you, only her face is paler and her eyes are a bit wider. you have got to suggest some anxiety medicine to that girl.

"yacchan-"

"they're here!"

and then, it's almost like the world has started moving in slow motion. you can barely register turning your head to look at the opposing team walking through the doors. cheers erupt around you - kids from shiratorizawa that showed up earlier than the bus did. does shiratorizawa regularly allow student to leave class early for away-games?

you don't have to look for him because, of course, he's standing in the front, leading the other players to the court. and, of course, he's looking directly at you.

it takes everything in your body to move. on your face, a small smile forms and you bring a hand up to wave at him.

theres a flash of recognition that crosses his face, then, for a moment, you swear you can see him returning the small smile. he nods at you and you feel light-headed.

you feel your face heat up and you have to look away before you embarrass yourself. your eyes land on kiyoko, who's wearing an impressed look on her face. your eyes widen a fraction before she signals for you and yachi to stand up. you do, because who are you to not listen to kiyoko?

you do introductions with the other managers - a tradition that isn't really necessary, but is something every team does.

the game goes by in a blur. a jump here, a spike there. you should be ashamed of yourself, the way you don't pay attention to karasuno's score. the only thing you can seem to focus on is how ushijima's thighs strain against his shorts when he jumps.

"y/n," kiyoko says quietly from beside you, nudging your arm. she's smiling at you, but the smiles disappears in an instant. "you're drooling. close your mouth before a fly lands in it."

you clamp your mouth shut, eyes widening once again. "you're so mean, kiyoko!" you exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest. your eyes drift back to the court just in time to see shiratorizawa's setter score the last point, winning the last set and, in turn, winning the game.

"ah, crap," yachi mumbles nervously, pressing her lips into a thin line. "we lost to them. again."

you let out a sigh, brows pinching together. "well, that's okay. we'll..." you trail off and shake your head, effectively collecting yourself. "we'll get them next time! right, kiyoko?"

she doesn't say anything, just nods.

karasuno returns to the benches looking dejected - expected. a few boys on shiratorizawa are cheering, high-fiving each other - expected. ushijima starts walking over to the karasuno benches - what?!

"kiyoko," you say quietly. you can't take your eyes off of him. he's staring at you - peering into your soul. "kiyoko," you repeat again, this time emphasizing it with an elbow to her side.

finally, she looks over to where you're looking. "oh," she says simply. "well, that's- uh, is he walking towards you?"

"i don't-" you're starting to panic now. him acknowledging you before the game is one thing, actually talking to him is another. "oh, god. i- i have to pee!"

you drop your clipboard onto the bench and speed walk your way over to the girls bathroom. once your safely in a stall, you pull your legs up to your chest and let out a deep breath.

how are you meant to marry him if you just end up running away every time you talk to him?!

⨳ CHAPTER FIVE !! WOOHOO !!

⨳ finally some honest-to-god, traditional writing up in here 🙄 get this lady a computer and a matcha latte or somethin man

⨳ AND SO THEY MEET AGAIN !! … almost… (y/n is sellinggg)

⨳ taglist ; @heartmaddie @blueballslock @tespho @celestialm1nd @saintcosette @mjustag1rl @loveucad @savvvsch @frootloopscos @fridaenpina @cherrysurf @tsxkishimx @sunghoonsgfreal @tangerinelovr @pookalicious-hq @six-number1 @toorumaiwaifu @hohoshiumi @gumims

^ bold couldn’t be tagged :’(

[mywifealhaitham]

pre release boothill relationship headcanons!!!

a/n: I'm fiending off crumbs... I've wanted to read some x reader of him but theres none so I gotta write it myself. I hope the other 4 boothill fans enjoy

warnings: gn!reader, like 2 gendered pet names (pretty girl/boy), most of this is written with bias because we don't have alot to go off, obviously written prerelease, when we actually get content of him I'll definitely be rewriting

LEAKS AHEAD!!!

bc: Valentine_DD_ on twt

- Boothill is described as a righteous person if his bottom line doesn't get crossed, so he definitely treats you good. probably more on the protective side when it comes to you, he's probably not afraid to use his gun if someone is threatening you.

- and believe me he's intimidating. from his overall tough and "unruly" cowboy look to his mechanical body it leaves enemies just a little challenged. he lowers his voice too and probably has a more fierce look in his eyes too. after any threats have been delt with he probably turns to you and turns into the sweetest thing ever, a wide grin across his face and his hands on your cheeks peppering you with small kisses.

- Its said he's a bit sophisticated due to his experiences so I'd like to imagine sometimes he charms you with facts and details about other planets or just genuinely sharing some tips and tricks he's picked up from other cultures. he's also a person who can get along with others pretty well but he can easily give strangers an impression he's selfish and is a bad person.

- again this kinda feeds into he's basically you'd guard dog... but I mean who wouldn't want to be saved by a handsome and sweet cowboy. despite his unpredictable personality and looks he's a huge gentleman for sure. always opens doors and pulls out chairs for you, makes sure your behind him and okay if any danger approaches and practically listens to your every command (lowkey giving off my girl and I don't argue she tells me to shut up and I do)

- one part I'm so excited to see is what they mean by he's illiterate and using metaphors. it's probably just him using slang but it's still kinda cute. I feel like his cheesy and strange metaphors turn into pick up lines when talking to you. perhaps he'll pull a "did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" or something cheesier. Definitely a huge nickname guy, almost never uses your real name. I'm guessing he'd use stuff like doll, sugar, baby, pretty girl/boy and more teasing names. heavy on doll and sugar and just imagine him saying it in a deep southern accent... 😍 kicking my feet. also I imagine he loves making you giggle by not cursing (because he literally cant) and normally he'd get pissed if someone laughed at him like that if it's you he doesn't mind at all.

- that's pretty much it for like analyzing the leaks I saw but now the stuff up ahead is just bias yapping because I always project

- HE DEFINITELY IS A HAND KISSER. greets you by getting on one knee, holding his hat to his chest and kissing your hand. makes eye contact with you too and does that toothy smirk of his IM SWOONINGGG

- maybe he's a dancer! pulls you into his arms and places his hat on your head when a good song plays in taverns. even if your clueless on any type of dances then he'll pull you along to the beat whispering Instructions in your ear.

- gets so lovesick when drunk it drives everyone mad. any folks he's sitting with at a bar gets a whole speech on his wonderful beautiful darling who he owes his live and would happily die by their hand. and may God save you when you come pick him up because he'll be all over you. Immediately he wraps a arm around your waist as he slurrs his hello as he proceeds to tell you he loves you like 40 times. besides the mass amounts of kisses you'll receive once you both reach a private spot he let's some feelings that he might be too shy to share normally, holding your face as he calls you his pretty girl/boy and how he's so lucky to have you.

- honestly not the best for cuddling however unfortunately he needs to cuddle you to sleep so goodluck! his metal body isn't completely uncomfortable it's just cold alot. he tries to get around this by literally preheating himself with blankets before you go to bed.

very bad boothill brainrot atm... only a few more weeks until we get official content 😭 everyone hold hands we got this

here's the actual leaks if anyone is curious ^_^

[allisluv]

i got this idea from somewhere i don’t remember where but finnick x reader with a facial scar (from her games) and she covers it up with makeup bc shes insecure abt it but he convinces her not to bc he really likes the scar

bizarre stories.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

content warnings: hurt/comfort, use of pet names (my love, angel, baby), insecurity, reader has a scar on her face but it's not specified why or how she got it, background everlark.

word count: 0.8k

a/n: if this has been written before pls lmk!! reblog and comments are highly appreciated <3

Finnick rolls up the sleeves to his white dress-shirt, and fixes his collar before leaving the en-suite and heading into your shared bedroom. “Are you ready yet, angel? I know dinner is at Peeta and Katniss’ place, but Johanna will throw a fit if we’re late.”

You chuckle under your breath but don’t look away from your reflection in the mirror. A concealer stick is balanced between your fingertips as you apply the make-up to your face. “Yeah, I know, I know. I’ll be ready in a second. Just need to finish this.”

Finnick hums and sits down on the edge of the bed, watching you watch yourself in the vanity mirror. A frown tugs at the corners of his pink lips as he mulls his question over in his head. “Angel?” 

You hum to show you’re listening. 

“Can I ask you something?” His voice is casual, but there’s a more serious undertone hidden in there that you have to be really listening for to hear. 

You hum again and spare him a glance before going back to your reflection. “Course you can.”

Finnick hesitates, but he knows that he has to ask. If he doesn’t, it’ll just nag him for the rest of the night. “Why do you do that?” 

Your brows furrow ever so slightly. “Do what, babe?”

“Why do you cover your scar when we go out?” He can see your shoulders tense up as you sigh and cap the concealer stick. He rushes to backtrack, making sure to keep his voice soft and gentle. “I don’t want you to think I’m judging you or trying to berate you or anything like that. I’m not. I’m just… curious, is all.”

You purse your lips and lift your shoulders up into a shrug. “I don’t know, really.” 

Finnick doesn’t believe you, and it’s clear with the way he arches a brow. Still, he doesn’t call you out on it; he really doesn’t want to make it seem like he is on your case, because the truth is, he isn’t trying to be. He keeps his mouth zipped shut and waits to see if you elaborate. 

It takes a minute for you to start talking again, and he can tell theres a nervous, almost vulnerable, edge to your voice when you speak again. 

“I just… I’m sick of it being the first thing people see when they look at me. I’m sick of the constant questions that come with it and feeling like I’m an animal to be ogled at in a zoo. I’m fed up of feeling like it makes me less of a person; like the fucking scar is my only distinguishable feature. It makes me feel like I’m not worthy of love and I’m not pretty and—”

“Angel.” Finnick cuts you off firmly but gently, and pulls your chair over to the edge of the bed. His legs are sandwiched between yours as he reaches up and cups your face in his hands. “I need you to listen to me for a minute. You think you can do that?” 

You huff out a sigh, but nod your head nonetheless.

“Your scar does not make you unlovable or any less gorgeous. Your scar is part of who you are, and I get that it can suck at times but it doesnt make me think any less of you. In fact, I think it makes you even hotter.”

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments.” You insist, but he gives your face a gentle squeeze and you quieten down after that. 

“I know. I know that isn’t what you were doing, my love, but I need you to know that I dont see you any differently just because of a damn scar.” He pauses to take a breath. “You wanna know what I see when I look at you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I see a gorgeous, beautiful, strong, stubborn woman who I couldn’t be any more in love with.” He smiles. “I think it’s badass, anyway.”

You quirk a brow. “You’re not just saying this to make me feel better, right?”

Finnick scoffs. “Come on, angel, when have you known me to sugar coat the truth just to make you feel better?” 

You sigh. “Fair point, well made.” 

Finnick pulls you closer until you’re straddling his waist. He kisses your forehead and murmurs, “So, how would you feel about taking off that concealer while we go out tonight?” He can feel you tense in his arms and he rushes to reassure you. “You don’t have to, angel. There’s no pressure.” 

You sigh and relax in his arms. “Fine. But if anyone says anything, I get to make up a really bizarre story on how I got it and you have to go along with it.” 

Finnick laughs. “Deal.”

[r4cc0on-in-tr4shcan]

would you maybe….write more for caseoh….i love what you’ve written so far and theres a SERIOUS lack of content for our mans! maybe like us being all cutie on stream and chat teasing us or something? feel free to take this in whatever direction you want:) tyyyyyyyyy

thank you 🤭 *does the Debbie Ryan lip bite and tucks hair behind ear* sry it took so long for me to answer this😭

Caseoh x gn!reader

You and Case have recently started dating, which means extra lovey dovey and being cutie patooties. This is a fun thing for chat. Chat reacts like children seeing their parents kiss. You laugh as you watch the chat blow up in: "EUGHHHHHH" "GET A ROOMMMM" "🤮🤮🤮" "STOP IT."

You laugh more when your boyfriend then yells out, "Y'ALL JUST MAD." If your a streamer too then be prepared. If Case ever mentions you or something you two did, maybe like spelling a word funny, or maybe you forgot Case's name, or maybe you didn't immediately realize who "Casey" was based on, then him and his whole chat is gonna go to your stream to confirm it. After you two have been together for a while then the lovey stuff starts to be more lowkey, still obviously in love, but shown in more subtle ways. Such as buying each other food, posting each other on socials, you would check in on him sometimes if he's been streaming and raging for wayyy too long. (cough, cough, like chained together), giving him water and before leaving, giving him a little kiss on the cheek and saying "you got this."