#these two are so funny I’m never tired of it

[p1astr81]

hii could you please write something with oscar x reader, where they are visiting his family in Australia and his sisters are basically are all the time with them and this irritates Oscar a bit but reader thinks is so so cute to see him with the girls because she maybe has all brothers who think she’s another boy. Seeing him being an older brother melts her heart. And he thinks it’s a bit funny because he was doing all of that just so they could leave the two of them alone. Totally not projecting 🙃😀

I’m not sure if this is what you were looking for I apologize if not😔

It was the off-season and Oscar was missing the nice weather so he booked the both of you tickets to visit his family in Melbourne.

He should’ve known he wouldn’t get any free time with you. Should’ve guessed it from the very moment his sisters decided to greet you and ignore him when you arrived.

They’d been attached to you since you arrived. You didn’t mind. You only had brothers so it wasn’t often you got to really feel like a sister. Oscar, on the other hand, felt a little irritated.

Now he sat with you on a sofa in the living room, you curled against his side, watching a movie. His sisters had dragged you from his bedroom, begging for you guys to join them. It was late in the afternoon, past dinner. You were getting tired and craving something sweet. “I really want some ice cream.” You said, head tilted back to peer up at him.

His hold on you tightened. “We don’t have any, but I can go get you some.” He offered.

“Could we go to that parlor down the road? They have good ice cream.”

Finally, an opportunity for you two to get some alone time—away from his sisters. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Nicole was sat on the other side of the room. He got up, standing at her side and said as quiet as he could, “y/n and I are going to go get ice cream.”

Apparently, not quiet enough.

“I want ice cream!” Mae chipped in. Then of course came Edie, and then Hattie.

Which is how he found himself driving his mom’s suv with four girls as his passengers, singing loudly to the music.

And acting as their butler after they’d put in their ice cream orders, chatting off to the side while Oscar waited by the serving counter.

“Mae,” he called, holding out her ice cream. She hadn’t heard him. “Mae.” He called again, still calm but louder this time.

You’d tapped her shoulder and redirected her attention. He gave her an annoyed smile while she plucked the cone from his hand.

His sisters weren’t home. He’d complained to Nicole about their neglect to give the two of you personal space, and she took them to the beach.

You were in the kitchen, making cookies together. He scooped the ingredients and you mixed everything together. Flour dusted your cheeks. He laughed with his arms around you.

And then the girls came home, spoiling his moment. “Ooh what are we making?” Edie said upon seeing you. He sighed as the girls crowded around you.

Hattie handed his phone to him, “can you put this on the charger for me?” She requested.

He wasn’t happy about it, but he did it anyway. You watched with a soft smile as he disappeared down the hallway to her room.

Mae unwrapped the chocolate bar—they didn’t have any chocolate chips handy so you asked her to chop the bar up into bits.

But she’d nicked her finger with the knife. Not badly, but there was a little blood. Oscar’s head snapped to her when he heard her hiss.

He took the knife from her hand, holding her hand in his and analyzing the cut. You watched as he eyed her with worry, wrapping her finger momentarily in a paper towel. He came back from the bathroom with a bandage in one hand and peroxide in the other.

“I’m gonna clean it just to make sure it doesn’t get infected. You can squeeze my hand if it hurts.”

The scene made you feel soft inside, seeing him be so careful with her. Your brothers had never treated you like that, only rough housed with you then laughed when you got hurt.

It was just meant to be you and him going shopping, but like every other time, his sisters just had to tag along. He wanted to say no, but you agreed before he could get a word out.

So now he was buying anything they wanted on the promise they’d leave you and him alone for your last 3 days in Australia. Thankfully, his sisters weren’t the type to abuse his generosity, so they weren’t trying to buy every item in the stores. Only those they really wanted.

You stayed on his arm while leaning over jewelry cases. “That one’s pretty.” You pointed to a necklace with a diamond heart dangling from the chain. The girls crowded around you, agreeing with you.

Oscar turned to the salesman, requesting the object. “Hey! I didn’t mean for you to buy it!” You looked at him like he was crazy. It was a near two thousand dollar piece. He just shrugged.

By the end of the night—when you were back at his house, curled up in his bed and dozing off—you offhandedly commented, “you’re gonna make a great dad.”

His hand froze on your back. “What do you mean?” He panicked. You couldn’t be- no, you were on birth control. There was no way-

“You’re such a great brother for your sisters, like with Mae when she cut her hand, and buying them stuff today to make them happy. I just know you’ll be the same way when he finally decide to have kids.”

The panic eased, and he laughed lowly. “I only did that today so they’d leave us alone the rest of the time we’re here.”

You twisted to meet his eyes. “And here I was thinking you were just so sweet.” You shook your head.

“No, this heart is ice cold, baby.” He joked.

You leaned up and kissed him, laughing against his lips.

[gossamyrrh]

❛ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐓 ❜ ◞ choso kamo

࿔ gn!reader, highschool!au, pining, fluff, sfw , 0.7k words 𓋰 divider by me ⸝⸝ do not use !

letta’s note ✉️ˎˊ˗ : hello, dubai 👽 ! first fluff work. how we feeling?

Like usual, Choso has to wait.

It’s been ten minutes and counting since he arrived at your house—a slanted, rural cottage that sits upon the cliffside—an architectural calamity that he is certain, somehow, shifts farther and farther away each time he bikes to it. Truth be told, if he were just to fare the distance alone, he doubts he would be this winded—this miserable. But when you add the steep, rolling hills and bumpy plains to the equation, it results in a strenuous, tortuous, unfathomably long ride.

Which is to say: he is sweaty, annoyed, and most definitely late.

Again.

Choso bends to pick up a pebble and clasps it between his fingers. Smooths his thumb over the surface, before chucking it over the cliff’s edge, sinking his teeth into his lip to quell his brewing frustration. 

“This is the last time.” He grumbles beneath his breath. “Do this again and you’re walking the six kilometres to school. I mean it—I do.” That’s it. That’s what he’ll say when you come sauntering from your house like you hadn’t just wasted his morning. Cost him his afternoon, too, when he’s forced to stay behind for detention and stare at nothing for a couple hours. He’ll utter it past unclenched teeth, and finally—finally—untether himself from your grasp. 

You’re not worth half the trouble, he thinks. Which is cruel, considering you’re his only friend. Unfair too, since he’s certain he’s not worth a quarter of the effort he thinks that you owe him. But maybe, that’s the trick of it. What makes the whole thing almost work. Two nobodies encircling the other, in constant motion, never alone in their meaninglessness. 

…It’s a sour thought. 

Choso scoffs and runs a hand through his wind-wrangled hair, smoothing the long strands, combing them behind his ears. He can’t help but wonder what excuse you’ll have for him today. 

Perhaps, that your alarm didn’t ring—a classic. Or, even better, that you soiled your uniform and spent near half the morning trying to clean it. A lie that will slip past your charming smile with ease.

Rarely ever does Choso get the truth. Rarely ever does he need it.

Which is why, when he hears your front door slam—feet skipping down the cobblestone steps in twos—the worn soles of your Oxfords skimming the fractured, battered granite—he doesn’t bother to ask. 

Instead, he counts along without meaning to: four, six, eight—until you land on the last step with a soft thud, breathless. Dishevelled. As though along the way, you’d somehow left your kempt behind.

You land beside him in pieces: tie askew, hair snarled from sleep, laces slithering behind you. 

“You ready to go, Cho’?” 

He fights the snarl that threatens to creep along his face. “Are you?”

You scoff and shoulder your school bag higher once you settle beside him, patting your wild hair as he adjusts his position on his bicycle seat. “Yeah. Obviously. We’re wasting time, Cho’—at this rate we’ll be late.”

He’s almost tempted to ride off without you. “Funny how that keeps happening.”

“Yeah, real mystery.” You smirk. “Now make room for me.”

And he does so without protest. Habit, he supposes.

As he scoots forward, you shimmy your way onto the small, metal ledge above his back tire, the one that you precariously balance on per usual. He hears a soft grunt behind him—feels his ears warm—before you wrap your arms around his torso. 

He should say it now, he thinks. Say it now and get it over with—since this is something he wants so badly.

But then you clutch his torso tightly, bringing his back to your chest, exhaling softly against the nape of his neck as he pushes from the ground and begins pedalling.

And the will within him dies. 

Sort of.

“You owe me lunch.” He mutters. “I’ll get another sanction cos’ of you.”

You laugh. “Add it to my tab.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

He doesn’t believe you. Not even a little.

Still, you clutch his jacket a little tighter as the slope of a hill approaches, and rest your chin against the width of him. “…But thank you for waiting, Cho’. Really.”  

His heart stutters.

“Yeah.” 

Perhaps, from the thought of the ride to-and-fro that he will have to fare today, he could argue. Or better yet, the ache in his legs that’ll plague him for the next few days. Definitely not from the warmth of your skin. The way you curve into him. A perfect fit.

But, as his irritation fizzes and you begin to feed him yet another unsolicited, ridiculous, entirely unbelievable excuse—laughing in his ear with that…beautiful laugh of yours—he finds that he doesn’t quite mind it. 

Being stuck waiting on someone as troublesome as you.

[multific]

The One He Writes To

Johnny MacTavish x Reader

Summary: You were only meant to write one letter. A gesture of support. But when Soap writes back, it begins a chain of letters.

You never thought anyone would read it.

The paper felt too clean. The words are too stiff.

But you wrote it anyway, one letter, addressed “To any soldier who needs it”

You wrote about the sky that day. The rain on your window. You thanked them for their service. You told them, whoever they were, that you hoped they were safe. And then you signed it.

Sincerely,

Someone who still believes in letters.

You never expected a reply.

Until one arrived a month later.

Dear ‘Someone,’

Didn’t expect a letter like that, not gonna lie. Most mail we get is dull as shite, but yours made me laugh. Real rain-on-the-glass kind of stuff. I liked it. Made things feel a bit more real. Anyway. My name’s John, but everyone calls me Soap. No, I won’t explain why. That’s classified.

Write back? It’s quiet as hell out here when the bullets stop flying.

Yours (sorta),

Soap.

That was how it began.

One letter turned into two. Then three. Then dozens.

You never even saw his face, he never sent a photo, but his handwriting became something sacred. The sharp angles.

The occasional smudge from a dusty glove.

The way he always signed off: “Yours.” Sometimes “Yours, always.”

He was funny. Witty. Crude in places.

But sometimes, something deeper slipped through. Memories of home. Things he’d lost.

The way he’d describe the sky over foreign mountains like it was poetry, even if he claimed he was shit at writing.

And over time, you started writing about yourself too.

The real things. The ache of being alone. Your fears. Your dreams. Your secrets. And he listened, even through ink and distance.

And then… the letters stopped.

A week went by. Then two. Then five.

You checked the mailbox obsessively, fingers trembling every time it was empty.

You told yourself he was fine. That maybe the base moved. That maybe mail was delayed.

But there was a part of you that wondered if he’d died.

If your last letter, the one where you wrote “I think I might be falling for you” in shaky script, had never made it.

It had been two months.

You were on your porch one late afternoon, arms wrapped around yourself, rereading his last letter.

The sky was gray. Your chest felt empty.

And then you heard it.

Boots on gravel.

And there he was.

Soaked in rain. Hair shorter than you'd imagined. A duffel on his shoulder. Drenched, exhausted, and very much alive.

You dropped the letter.

He didn’t say a word at first.

You barely breathed. “J-John?”

A flicker of relief crossed his face. He nodded, once. “It’s me.”

You ran to him before he could say more, arms flying around his shoulders as he dropped the bag and caught you. You were crying. He was shaking.

“I thought y-you…” you choked.

“I didn’t,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

To really see him. His eyes were tired but they lit up when he saw you.

“I got shot,” he said quietly. “So, I couldn’t write. Thought about it every day, about you.”

You touched his face, breathless. “I d-didn’t even know w-what you looked like.”

He gave you a soft, crooked smile. “Disappointed?”

You laughed through tears. “N-no. Never.”

His hand found your waist, gentle. “You said in your last letter that you were falling for me.”

You nodded, afraid to speak.

“I fell too,” he whispered. “Months ago.”

He kissed you before you could reply.

It was slow. Real. The kind of kiss you only give someone who knows your soul before your face.

When he pulled back, you were smiling.

He brushed your cheek with a calloused thumb. “Write me again?”

You took his hand and pressed it to your heart.

“Stay,” you said softly. “And I’ll say the words in person from now on.”

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[dark-l-angel]

I have a really cute idea that I want to share with you. So, there is Batman, Night Wing, Red Hood, Red Robin and Robin but their chibi versions.So, like themselves but a small version of themselves. Very cute and funny, their chibi abilities and characters are also the same.I want to know how they will react when they see the chibi version of themselves, it's so cute, OMG

A/N : AAAAHHH- That’s criminally adorable. I’m melting already. Like, imagine Bat-boys forced to stare into the abyss of their own big-eyed, tiny-bodied counterparts. You’re in for some serious giggles and probably a few “Tt”s from a certain gremlin.

Batfam x chibi batfam

Bruce Wayne :

His reaction : Deep sigh. Squints. Crosses arms.

"This… is impractical."

But let’s be real.. he’s already taking mental notes on how to weaponize the cuteness. He tries to stay stoic, but the moment chibi-Bruce waddles up and dramatically throws a mini Batarang, yelling "Justice!" even Alfred sees the twitch of a smile. Just once. Blink and you miss it.

Dick Grayson :

His reaction: Immediate heart explosion.

"OH MY GOD, IS THAT ME?? Look at the hair! Look at the little sticks!! AND THAT DAMN CUTE BOOTYYYY!!!"

He picks up chibi-Dick and spins him around like a proud dad at a baby photo shoot. He’s already planning merch, stickers, plushies. "We are putting this little guy everywhere."

Jason todd :

His reaction: Confused violence. Finger on trigger.

"…Why does it still have guns?"

Chibi-Jason just yeets a tiny grenade with a "pew pew!" sound. Jason’s horrified… and impressed. He'd pretend to hate it, but five minutes later, he’s teaching his mini self how to flip someone off with both tiny hands. Secretly makes chibi-Jason his phone wallpaper.

His reaction: Panicked spiraling.

Tim Drake :

"What is this? How is it functioning? It’s sentient?! Is it drinking coffee???"

Chibi-Tim is a caffeinated gremlin who never sleeps and hacks the Batcave security system for fun. Tim tries to analyze and fix it.. then gives up and just starts talking to him like a coworker. They start coding together. Two tired insomniacs bonding in chaos.

Damian Wayne :

His reaction: Immediate rage and denial.

"This is an insult. I do not look like that."

Meanwhile, chibi-Damian is riding a tiny Bat-cow, stabbing cardboard cutouts of enemies with a toy sword, and yelling, "For honor!"

The Batfam is cackling. Damian is fuming. But you know… the moment no one's looking? He tucks chibi-him into a shoebox-turned-bed and gives it a plushie Talia doll.

This whole thing is just chaotic adorable energy. Imagine them trying to do missions while being followed around by their pint-sized versions. Bruce trying to give a serious debrief while chibi-Dick keeps booping chibi-Jason on the helmet. Damian challenging his chibi-self to a duel. Tim asking his mini-me to update his files.

I can already see the Batcomputer background changing to a group pic of the whole crew + chibis. And Alfred? He’s already sewing matching capes for the mini versions, sipping tea like, "Master Bruce, you are clearly outnumbered."

🫠

[ixequte]

SIXTEEN | geto suguru x reader

"You're forever sixteen"

and he never made it out of seventeen.

You're forever sixteen.

And in his memories, you're always laughing.

But not the kind of laugh that fills rooms or turns heads.

No. Yours was quieter.

A soft, broken thing.

A laugh like rain bleeding down cracked glass.

The kind of sound that only exists if someone needs to hear it.

And he did.

God, he did.

You laughed through pain.

Not because it was funny.

But because it was the only thing you had left.

When your lungs stopped filling right.

When your vision slipped in and out like a dying signal.

When you gripped his hand and whispered, “Oops. Forgot to breathe again.”

He laughed with you.

Because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

Cry?

Scream?

Beg the universe to pick on someone else?

He didn’t.

Not in front of you.

So he laughed with you.

Held your hand like that was ever going to be enough.

Like grip strength could replace godhood.

And you died.

And he—

He couldn’t stop it.

Couldn’t do anything.

He was a sorcerer.

He was a weapon.

He was a curse given flesh.

But he couldn’t keep your heart beating.

You're forever sixteen.

And he’s been seventeen ever since.

trapped and rotting.

Stuck in a world that forgot you, even when he never did.

Satoru tried to help, once.

"Would they want to see you like this?"

Suguru didn’t answer.

Because yes. You would.

You’d want to see him wrecked.

You’d want to be grieved.

You’d cup his face in your too-small hands and whisper, “It’s okay. It means you loved me.”

You did say that.

Right before blood painted your lips.

Right before you slumped against him like your soul was too tired to stay.

He held you.

Like a goddamn fool.

As if holding you tighter would scare death away.

It didn’t.

You're forever sixteen.

And he can’t look at teenagers anymore.

They laugh like time isn’t real.

They smile like the sun will never set.

They run. They dance. They breathe.

You couldn’t even do that.

He hates them.

He hates them for living.

No one gets it.

Not even Satoru.

“They were strong." He said once.

But you weren’t.

You were fragile.

You were scared.

You were sixteen and terrified of the dark.

Sixteen and begging, “Will you still love me when I’m bald?”

Sixteen and scribbling “I love you” into notebook margins because saying it made your voice shake.

Sixteen and seeing your own death in every mirror.

Sixteen and whispering, “Will you be okay when I’m gone?”

He said yes.

He lied.

At twenty-two, he curses God.

At twenty-three, he curses himself.

At twenty-four, he forgets what your voice sounded like and claws at his skull trying to pull it back.

At twenty-five, he wonders what your funeral would’ve looked like if you’d had time to plan it.

If you’d wanted lilies or sunflowers.

If you’d wanted to be cremated or buried.

If you’d wanted to be forgotten.

He thinks about following you.

About taking the elevator down and never hitting the brakes.

But he waits.

Because he promised.

You made him promise.

“Make it to twenty...” You said.

Then, “Okay, twenty-five.”

“Then keep going… if it doesn’t hurt too much.”

It always hurt.

He’s twenty-six now.

And every year since you died has felt like being flayed alive in slow motion.

You're still sixteen.

He dreams of you.

But dreams are liars.

They give him the version of you that never existed.

The healthy you.

The whole you.

The alive you.

You’re barefoot in the sun, smiling like your lungs never gave out.

You call his name like it’s nothing. Like it never became a tombstone.

“You’re late, Suguru.”

And it breaks him.

Every fucking time.

Because in dreams, you never died.

In dreams, you never left.

In dreams, you lived.

You never got to be seventeen.

Never kissed him with your whole heart.

Never got to fight beside him.

Never got to say “I love you” and mean it with the weight it deserved.

You never got to be older.

You never got to live.

You're forever sixteen.

He dies at twenty-six.

As a villain they called it.

He sees you before the end.

The real you.

Or maybe just the version his heart made up to soften the blow.

No tubes.

No sickness.

No apology behind your eyes.

You smiled like time never touched you.

Like death never stole you.

Like this was how it was always supposed to be.

“You’re late, Suguru.”

And for the first time in ten years,

he didn’t flinch.

He took your hand.

Because you were still sixteen.

Still waiting.

And finally—

finally—

he wasn’t seventeen anymore.

He was yours again.

[kitamars]

ginhiji is a workplace romance but one of them is unemployed

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

the price one pays for being gay in this economy <- watching so many episodes of shows I don’t care about for one guy who’s gonna be there for five minutes

[the-casbah-way]

not to be obnoxious but like. you people are mad at those watcher guys for making you pay for a subscription service. but you were all able to look past the fact that they had an entire series where they just made jokes about actual real life true crime cases. that makes sense

[floral-hex]

gosh, I miss flirting and being mushy with someone

[yzzart]

⋆˙⟡ BOYFRIEND!DANTE ── HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of anime, Dante being needy, fluff, cute and light content and part two is here!

── word count: 653!

⭑.ᐟ Dante is always, ALWAYS, in contact with you and it doesn't matter where or when. — This is not an exaggeration, or a complaint, never. — Whether through physical touches or messages, SMS, — that man only uses his damn cell phone because of you and even though it's risky — he never lets you keep in contact.

“thinking about you right now ;)” “Dante, you only left about 5 minutes ago…?” “painful, isn’t it? do you believe i have an amazing joke ready? i need to tell you when i get back.”

⭑.ᐟ The demon hunter loves to snuggle up to you, to cling to you; being unable, and in his words, impossible, not to be close to you. — Well, that's his biggest weakness. — Dante always kept his hands around you, usually on your waist and caressing the region. — Like holding your hand, caressing your face and massaging your thigh.

⭑.ᐟ He loves receiving your attention, especially when he is between your boobs and receiving caresses, which make him fall asleep instantly. — you know this very well — However, there was one night, after a long and unbearable killing against beings from the underworld, Dante ended up falling asleep during one of the night conversations, which was your routine, and ended up drooling on your shirt.

⤷ The scene was…naive, also pitiful; your boyfriend was tired, he needed rest more than anything else. — And you, wanting to make him comfortable and pleasant, tried to get out of the position, which was to be underneath him, but an extremely sleepy and heavy Dante prevented your action and mumbled inaudible words — asking you to stay there, with him — and even without understanding, you obeyed.

⭑.ᐟ DDR — DanceDance Revolucion nights? This has become a routine worthy of you and Dante. — Every night, no matter what time it is, and even knowing that you have things to do the next day, this gentle game becomes a competition; Dante, without even caring who is in front, doesn't miss the chance to have fun with his girl.

"Come on, ma'am! Make me impressed, go, go!" + “It was with that swagger that you won me over, right, you smart little girl?” + “I can’t believe you beat me at my own game?”

“Shut your pretty mouth, big boy.”

⭑.ᐟ You are the only person, the only thing that can breathe, that can touch or question his necklace. — There is no discussion about that. — Dante trusts you, until his last breath, even though he has reason to distrust everyone and everything, he would never leave or abandon his loyalty and trust in you. — Out of fear, and respect and common sense, you don't dare to touch it on some occasions and Dante realizes this, he finds it funny, cute, pure; feeling loved and so cared for by you.

⤷ “There’s not a day, not a single day, that the memory of the day she gave me that necklace doesn’t cross my mind.” — Dante mentioned his mother, able to feel a small and unbearable burning in his eyes; he sighed, arranged you in his lap, directing a compassionate look in your direction as your fingers pass through the cord, without touching the amulet. — “And every day, i’m sure she would adore you.”

⭑.ᐟ Dante knows how to be a knight with you, and he really does. — Last piece of pizza in the box? He makes a point of leaving it for you, and that's a high-class knightly role in his eyes. — Even living such a complicated life, working with something so violent and filthy, he can't help but indulge his girl in a few whims.

⤷ Little writings on small pieces of old newspaper, which he left in his pants or jacket pocket, telling some joke or unfunny pick-up line and decorations are typical of Dante. — Teaching you to play pool and then beating him and your prize are moments of grabbing? Oh, Dante is a lucky boy.

[nezuscribe]

arguing with arranged!gojo is difficult because he’s not used to arguing with women and you’re not used to arguing period.

it rarely happens, but when it does it gets really heated between the two of you. you pace around your room, huffing as gojo stands there with his arms crossed, nose flaring.

like that one time he found out that one of the new guards the brought in from the west was somebody you used to fool around with.

yeah that was bad.

“why do you even care!” you snap at him, and he can’t find a plausible reason aside from the fact that he was purely jealous.

this guard that they’d brought in from the west, much to your shock, was somebody you used to see in the late hours of the night. you never did anything frisky, just some shared kisses here and there.

but the moment you saw him, your whole demeanor changed. and gojo could tell. it took a bit of picking and prodding (which gojo is great at) but you eventually told him the story.

and he was not excited to hear it.

“i want him gone,” he tells you and you roll your eyes, shrugging indefinitely.

“fine,” you throw your arms up, “get him out. but what about those girls? you think i don’t want them gone whenever we walk into one of those balls or those dinners? when i see the way they look at you? you think that’s easy for me?”

“it’s different,” his tone is unwavering and cold.

you scoff, shaking your head in dismay.

“what? what’s so different? that i kissed him? big deal!” you feel like you want to cry and yell and jump and scream at the same time.

because it was different. for you. because the men didn’t seem to care that gojo had a new wife, or that he cared for her. but the ladies did. they gossiped in frenzied tones, batted their eyelashes at him even more as if that could cast him away from your spell.

so you didn’t know why he cared so much about this one man. why it should matter to him when he’s had far, far more experiences than you.

you felt hurt that he doubted you, angered with his hypocrisy, and tired from spending the entire day ignoring each other.

“this is going nowhere,” you mutter eventually, picking up your pillow as his eyes drop to your hands, “i’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“what-”

“and don’t follow me,” you bite out, not even glancing behind your shoulder as you begin to sulk out of your shared bedroom to your old one all across the estate.

and sure, maybe you’re not being entirely fair. there’s been some petty arguments when he bumps into one of his old girls, but it didn’t hurt nonetheless when he accused you of lying, when the conversation of your old romantic life was just never brought up.

you wipe at the stray tears on your cheek as you slug down the stairs, sniffling to yourself as you curse your husband to hell and back, when a force unlike any other picks you up from behind.

“what?” you squeal, your body manicured over a strong shoulder, your legs near his torso, your eyes facing his back as you kick at him, “let me go, i’m going to fall!”

“don’t make me laugh,” gojo murmured, one strong arm around your waist, the other around your thighs as he hauls you back up the stairs.

“i told you not to follow me,” you grumble, pinching his back but he doesn’t react.

“you’re funny if you think i’ll let you sleep alone.”

your brows furrow, feeling the need to kick him, but also not wanting him to drop you.

it doesn’t take long for him to reach your bedroom, opening the door with his free hand (unbridled strength if the greatest warrior of the north meant he could pick you up with just one hand) and plops you back on the mattress.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking away, hoping he can’t see the tear marks.

because it did hurt. his words hurt you. they cut deep. and he notices, his gaze softening slightly.

“don’t cry,” he whispers, leaning down to trace your tears away but you swat his hand off of your face.

“then don’t make me cry,” you say with a heavy sigh, siting upwards, back slightly hunched.

you take a deep breath, rubbing at your eyes as you glance upwards at him. it’s been a while since the two of you had fought, and the first time over something serious, and he looks awful.

“i don’t judge you for being with those girls,” you start with a heavy whisper, “you did what you could to stay sane. but don’t judge me for doing the same.”

gojo breathes deeply through his nose, blinking.

“you’re right,” he says after a heavy second, causing you too look up in confusion.

he nods again, his big hand cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he catches the stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“you’re right and i’m sorry,” he repeats, and you’ve never had somebody agree with you before, “i just…saw the way he looks at you and…i didn’t like it.”

you offer him a small nod.

“but he just looked at me,” you shift so that your resting on your haunches, hands in your lap. he towers over you, one hand going to cradle the back of your head.

gojo shrugs, like he can’t put it into comprehensible words how he felt when that guard looked at you with hunger in his eyes. how only he was allowed to look at you with such starvation.

“i didn’t like it,” he can only repeat, and you know he struggles with his emotions, spent years hiding them so that they wouldn’t become his weakness.

“do you want to sleep?” he finally asks you, and you slowly blink, trying to hide the tiredness from your face.

“i’ll still be here when you wake up,” he offers and you crack a small smile, trying to hide it from him.

but your smile drops as you think, eyes darting up to his.

“it’s okay to not like something, and it’s okay to feel angry that you don’t. but don’t ever, ever, make me feel like that again because of it.”

your stare is unwavering, and he feels a certain sense of pride in seeing that. and gojo nods, one steady movement as he drops down to his knees, trying to be level with your gaze.

“you have my full authority to strike me down if i do,” he promises, his hands cupping your face, his words serious but you can’t help but giggle.

“good,” you murmur, tugging slightly harshly on some of the strands of his hair as he winces, pushing you back onto the bed with the sheer force of his body, climbing up into you as he hold you close to him.

you let out another laugh as he acts like a bear cub, not wanting to move an inch away from your warmth as he cuddles into you, trying to finish his massive size compared to you.

the two of you laid in silence, a comfortable one, as he laid his head in your chest, hearing the steady rhythm of your heart.

“i am sorry,” he whispers, craning his neck to look up at you as he rests his chin on your sternum, “i’m sorry.” he says again, his words barely above a sound.

you blink again, moving some of the hair away from his face as you observe his sorrowful features.

“i know,” you whisper back.

gojo finds your hands, interweaving your fingers together, heart tugging when he feels your ring against his skin.

he brings the finger to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the ring as you watch him silently. no other words needed to be said, no words left unspoken as he pulls you into his chest.

because no woman would amount to a sliver of you. and no man would amount to a morsel of him.

[moonstruckme]

One of my favorite little details about your poly!marauders works is how fit and strong James is, especially with how often, and how easily, he picks up or carries around y/n. Could I request a fic with the four of them but he gives the same treatment to his boys as well for whatever reason? Both sounding so exasperated but secretly loving every second of it because they love their sweet strong boy so much and love being babied as well? 🥺

Ahhh yes I can't believe I haven't done this more! It will definitely have to become more common in the poly marauders drabbles, thanks angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 670 words

By the time the credits roll, you’re all drifting off. Sirius’ eyelids are drooping where his head rests on your chest; Remus is snoring softly on James’ shoulder. You and James share a fond look as you turn off the telly. 

You sit in silence for a few moments, your sitting room dark but for the orange glow of streetlights coming in through the window. Unwilling to end the peaceful night. 

“Alright,” James sighs after a moment, worming his arms underneath Remus’ legs and torso. Remus begins to rouse as he does, but he’s in the air before he catches onto what’s happening, hoisted up against James’ chest. 

He makes a sleepy, demurring sound. 

“You’re alright,” James reassures him in a soft voice. Your heart thumps, smitten. “We’re only going to bed.” 

Remus mumbles something like, “You don’t have to…” 

James shushes him. Remus is easily mollified, letting his head settle in the crook of James’ neck as he’s carried down the hall. You watch them go with a warm, goopy feeling in your chest and a tickle of amusement at your own fascination with the way James’ arm looks hooked under your boyfriend’s knees. 

You coil a piece of Sirius’ hair around your finger absently. “That was rather fit,” you murmur to him, “wasn’t it?” 

You could swear Sirius’ breathing evens out only just then. His head weighs heavier on your chest. 

You give a soft laugh. “Fraud,” you whisper. 

Sirius begins to snore. 

You sigh. “James,” you call quietly. 

No answer. 

“James.”  

Heavy but considerate footsteps sound in the hall. “Hm?” he asks as he peers around the corner. His expression softens when he sees Sirius. “Oh.” 

“I’m trapped,” you say. 

“I can see that. Never fear, I’ll rescue you.” James stoops, lifting Sirius as he had Remus. Sirius puts on a very good show of acting groggy, nuzzling James’ shirt a little as he turns into his chest. 

James smiles. You see his thumb sweep over Sirius’ shoulder. “I’ve got you, love,” he promises. 

You snort, and he gives you a funny look, but you know you see Sirius’ lips twitch before he’s taken down the hall. 

You consider feigning sleep yourself for a handful of moments. It probably wouldn’t be very convincing, but you think James would likely play along anyway. In the end, he comes back to the sitting room without prompting, giving you a puzzled look. 

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” he asks. 

You wet your lips, shy but unable to contain your smile. “I am,” you admit. “I just don’t know if I have the energy to walk there all by myself.” 

James, for the indignant air he tries to put on, is unable to hide his smile either. “You want a lift too, do you?” 

“Please?” you ask sweetly. “Everyone else got one.” 

Your boyfriend—your sweetheart—doesn’t even feign reluctance. He kisses the top of your head as he bends to get his arms under you, and you twine yours around his neck happily. His chest is warm and reassuringly solid. If you weren’t already home, you would be now. 

“Are we tiring you out?” you ask, somewhat contritely, as he lifts you from the sofa. 

James makes a quiet pffting sound. “You lot? Angel, I bench two hundred.” 

“You know I don’t know what that means.” 

“It means that I could lift the three of you together, and it wouldn’t be as much as I lifted at the gym yesterday.” 

“Doesn’t that mean you’re already sore, though?” 

“Not so sore,” James kisses your hair, sounding amused, “that I can’t help my loves to bed. Alright? Don’t worry about me, lovie.” 

He places you in an empty spot at the end of the bed, rounding it to lie in his spot by the nightstand where he leaves his glasses each night. As you roll over, getting comfortable with your head on the pillow, you hear a murmur so quiet it might only be air. 

“You were right,” says Sirius. “That was very fit.”

[caotictimmy]

if you're doing mouthwashing can i have daisuke x reader hcs plz... just pretend the tulpar never crashed i want him to be happy hjdkjkdsjg

OMG ANON…you get me. Daisuke has me in a CHOKEHOLD. Ok so here are how the headcanons are gonna go. Pre dating/confession. Dating and NSFW. I had another anon ask me to do NSFW head canons with daisuke. So why not kill two birds with one stone. The regular head canon r gonna be Gn. But the NSFW are gonna have some AFAB stuff. Still can kinda be read as Gn.

Crushing - Confession

- I believe Daisuke crushing on you would be a very, you fell first, but he fell harder kinda thing.

- I think that because Daisuke can be well.. a bit dense (still love him though). That he’s not really gonna pick up on any hints or flirting. So you kinda of have to wait till he realizes he likes you.

- When he does realize he likes you is probably when you were sticking up for him against Swansea(I love you Swansea but you still were mean to Daisuke🙁).

- It’s gonna be easy to tell when he likes you. This man is gonna be so obvious😭🙏

- We all know he’s eager to please right? He’s doing this with you 2 times more. Always asking if you needed anything, he’d be right on it.

-Little things to. I’m talking some laying his shirt over a puddle for you to step on. I feel like he tries to woe you with these gestures.(and it works)

- Daisuke loves listening to your voice. No matter how your voice sounds. He’ll go out of his ways to find you to ramble on about something. He thinks you look and sound cute rambling. o(^w^)o

- Also I think he just likes looking at you. There have been MANY times where Swansea has smacked Daisuke in the back of the head, cause he got sidetrack staring at you with this very lovesick grin. Staring like you personally hung the stars for him.

- Daisuke would be a bit too nervous to think of confessing first. So Swansea would definitely be pushing him to confess. He’s tired of seeing you two ogling at each other and doing nothing about it😒.

- Our sly little man some how convinced Curly to make a cake for him to give you. (I swear on my life curly is a die hard romantic but I’m saving that for when I do headcanons on him later)

- I feel like Daisuke would sneak in your room. Waiting for you to enter. When you do he lifts up the cake in his hands, “ Imadeyouthiscakewillyoudateme” He rambled out. Being scared you would say no.

- But when you say yes. I’m not kidding he shouted “WHOO HOO!!!”. It was very funny. Daisuke would quickly put the cake down and rush to hug you,

Dating

- I feel like the affection he likes to receive is words of affection and physical contact. And for what he usually gives. Acts of service and physical affection. Let me explain

-(Daisuke receiving) It’s a bit obvious that Daisuke probably hasn’t gotten a lot of praise in his life. So I believe that he absolutely melts when you give him these encouraging words. It can range from a lot. From a small, “good job” to a “I love you so much, no matter what.”. It makes him so happy like you don’t even understand.

-(Daisuke receiving) Idk it’s just a an itch in my brain telling me. I think he likes all kinds of physical affection. From holding his pinky, to wrapping you arms and legs around him cuddling. If it insures some sort of touching he’s down. I also think he like resting his head on either your thighs, or chest. Resting his eyes. PLEASE scratch his head or tangle your fingers through his hair. He loves it so much. Like it calms him down so much.

-(Daisuke giving) You can’t tell me this man isn’t at least a bit clingy. Not in a “if you talk to someone else I’ll kill them” type of way but a “ you make me feel safe and secure” kind of way. Does that make sense? Anyways, he loves flopping onto you when he sees you laying down. Like I’m talking full rag doll flop. I fully believe he brought a stuff animal on the ship. So he fully treats you like a stuff animal. Quick random switch. I don’t think he likes being the small spoon. Only because I feel like he needs to sleep holding something. I don’t think he would mind being big spoon. But overall he prefers you two facing each other.

-(Daisuke giving) We all know he has a knack for trying to be as helpful as he can. We can see that when he tried to fix the vent! To trying to crawl up it to save Anya… guys I can’t do this anymore. ANYWAYS. This man does not want you to lift a FINGER. He is so head over heels inlove with you. He’ll do anything for you. He’ll ask him to bring you a star and he’d ask which one. LIKE HE LOVES YOU SM AND JUST WANTS TO SEE YOU HAPPY.

- He loves kissing. Receiving and giving. From a simple peck, to kissing your face all over. He just loves it so much. He finds it so romantic. Listen hear me out. Non sexual neck kissing. He could be waking up before you(highly unlikely). Softly kissing your neck to wake you up. Just soft and sweet.

- Late night talks are a must with him. It could be about anything really. From what plot twist you guys thought would happen on the shitty soap opera you guys were watching. What ifs, what your guys future would look like, what you guys would be if you were animals. The topics you guys talk about are far and wide. But he enjoys the comfort of being by you.

- You can’t tell me this man isn’t a big back. Daisuke definitely brought a bunch of snacks with him. So he will happily share with you. He is a very giving person. But also expect to get your food stolen sometimes.. make sure you get extra food in your plate to give him the rest. He would appreciate it a lot!!!!!:3

- He also really loves spending anytime he can with you. Especially if it involves games. Let me tell you. YOU DO NOT WANNA PLAY DRESS TO IMPRESS WITH THIS MAN. He would cook you so hard in the game it’s not even funny. He’s literally in the top 10 players in dress to impress.

NSFW - DO NOT READ IF YOUR A MINOR OR UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW (AFAB)

- Praise kink. YOU GUYS CANT TELL ME I’M WRONG. You guys could water board me. Scream at me that I’m wrong. Every time you praise him when y’all are getting freaky. Busting. Like it gets him going SO HARD (pun intended) Like omg… Especially if you praise his efforts/ how good he’s doing. Pray that you’ll be able to walk after.

- This man is LOUD…… grunting, whimpering, moaning, panting. Any noise you can think of hes made it. Like he doesn’t even think of suppressing his noises. He also doesn’t want you to either! He loves hearing you. He thinks the louder you are = the better he’s doing. So please don’t suppress your noises he’ll get so sad:(. But back to the topic. This man needs something to muffle him. Wether that be kissing you, or lightly nibbling your neck. When he starts to get to loud you need to find a way to shut him up.

-Speaking of loud Swansea has definitely caught you guys once’s. Y’all were a bit to loud and he was wonder what was going on and… Let’s just say he wasn’t able to look at you guys for a bit. But after he gave Daisuke a fist bump. Man to man🗣️🗣️🗣️

- Daisuke is willing to try almost everything. I full heartedly believe this man is a virgin. The furthest he’s ever gone is making out. So he’s eager to learn! He was a bit nervous your guys first time. But after a bit that nervousness dissolved into eagerness! I don’t think he’d be into hurting you badly. And I don’t think he likes pain that much either. But I think he would like his hair being pulled. Or maybe you lightly scratching his back.

- I think he would be open to having sex not just in your rooms. Either in random room barely used. Or a couple of times on the couch when everyone was in their sleeping quarters. Thankfully you guys weren’t caught!!! But Curly was wondering what that clear sticky substances was on the couch…

-(AFAB) Munch no question asked. LISTEN WHEN I SAW HE WANTED AN EXTRA PACK OF SWEETENER I IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT BIG BACK MUNCH BEHAVIOR. Also because this man loves to please. DO YALL SEE ME VISION. This man who’ll slurp it up like no tomorrow. His favorite made is your pleasure is his pleasure. But omg like he gets so into eating you out it’s not even funny… You have to pry his face away from your core. And he looks so hot. His hair a mess. His eyes dazed but still has that love in them. And your juice all over his face like…

- He doesn’t have a favorite position. He likes way too many. And when you asked him what position he liked the most, he only responded with, “how can I pick a favorite when there all so good, and what about the ones we haven’t tried yet!” Safe to say you guys went to go try some more positions 😜

- I know I’ve been doing really freaky headcanons but I think Daisuke loves soft sex and morning sexy to. Maybe the morning after a bad day HES still feeling bad. You both are still groggy but you have time before you have to get up. Hell sink himself into. Before thrusting as his arms are wrapped around your waist. His hot breath on your neck, as he trailed kisses all along it. Just because he can be a freak doesn’t mean he can’t be really soft either.

- Daisuke loves cock warming. Try. Try to prove me wrong. He loves cuddling. He loves being as close to you as possible. What’s better than combining the two! But after a bit he does get a bit impatient and starts to subtly thrust. He really is trying to not to be you feel to good!

Authors note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I STARTED THIS WHEN I GOT HOME AND FELL ASLEEP MID WAY THROUGH WRITING THIS. Again sorry for request being slow I’m trying my best😭🙏

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

This piece contains 18+ content

Pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary Eddie’s had a long day, but being with you is enough to turn even the worst days into something sweeter [fluff, artsy reader, mild hurt/comfort, smut, 3.2k]

A/N This is some of my favorite smut I've written. Still very much stuck on him.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

It’s much quieter in your neighborhood than it is in Forest Hills. No muffled music or raised voices carry from the houses around the cul-de-sac. Tired men don’t tinker on rusty cars. Unleashed dogs don’t sniff their way through ailing yards that aren’t their own. The only signs of life are cars in driveways and lamplight through windows. The golden sun hangs low in the darkening sky.

Eddie makes a final attempt to exhale the weight of the day away before he presses your doorbell. Not even a second later, the lock clicks and the door swings open.

The smile you offer has him convinced that every butterfly he’s ever seen now exists within the confines of his stomach. It’s as if familiarity and radiance itself exist in the way your lips lift upwards to reveal the glint of your teeth.

“I heard you pull up,” you say. “In case you were wondering why I opened the door in two seconds…” you trail off when you realize you don’t sound as convincing as you want. 

Eddie smiles with a fond shake of his head. The action causes more of his curls fall onto his shoulders. He’d never make fun of you for being eager to see him. Especially when half the people in Hawkins care more about his skills beneath the hood than him as a person.

“Sorry I’m later than I said I’d be,” he says as you usher him inside. “Wanted to grab a shower before I came over.” 

“Didn’t you hear?” Eddie's brow furrows innocently at your question. “I love the smell of motor oil.” 

He huffs out a chuckle that makes you bite your lower lip to keep from grinning like a fool. Then he laughs again, deeper this time, like a funny thought has struck him. But he takes a step closer, cups your cheek, and kisses you. His lips are slow and easy against your own.

When he pulls away, you catch the weariness in his eyes, softened by gratitude as he takes you in. He could’ve gone home. He could’ve turned in for the night. But he wanted to see you too. He needed to see you. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Everything okay?” 

You reach out to tuck his hair behind his ears, and he lets you. Any other time, he’d shake it back loose with a playful smirk. Tonight he doesn’t. 

He catches your hand as you pull away, and dots a few kisses over your knuckles. Work and playing guitar have calloused his palms. His steel rings glint in the low light of the foyer. 

“I’m okay,” he says into your skin. You remain quiet in hopes that it’ll coax more out of him. “Long day at the shop.” 

You hum. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. Don’t be. 

“Got you something,” he remembers. "Been holding onto it for a couple days." He realizes he’s empty-handed.

“Shit. I left it in the van.” 

You chuckle as he presses another quick kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go and pulls away. 

When Eddie comes back inside, you’re on the living room couch with one leg tucked beneath you. The TV plays low reruns of I Love Lucy, but you grant him all your attention as he settles beside you. Before you have the chance to ask what’s in the brown paper bag, he pulls out a nice set of drawing pencils and a leather-bound sketchbook. 

Your mouth falls open as he passes them over to you, his expression quietly hopeful. Big brown eyes eager for your reaction. 

“Eddie…” 

“You filled your last sketchbook. And you’ve been needing some new pencils." He rests his forearms on his thighs and licks his lips. "Knew you’d hold off on getting them for yourself so I figured..." 

A smile finally breaks across your face.

“These are the fancy kind too," you note as you look over the pencils. "Thank you so much, baby. Really.” He shrugs like it's no big deal even as he bites back the proud quirk of his lips. It was a privilege to be able to do little things like this when he could.

The leather of the sketchbook is smooth as you flip open the cover to run your fingers over the crisp, fragrant pages. 

When you meet his eyes again, your gaze is soft and observant, like you have an idea. It feels like you're seeing straight into him. He's handsome. Long curls, kind eyes, plush lips. Even then, it's clear he still wears the remnants of the hours prior, though he masks it well.

“Maybe I can draw you," you propose with the quiet hope he’ll oblige. “To break everything in.

"All you've gotta do is sit back and relax. We can talk, watch some TV, eat my snacks." He smiles at that last part. 

After the frustrated customers he had to diffuse today, he can do that. Gladly so. 

•••

The warm lamplight and the glow of the TV cast soft shadows across Eddie's face. His long lashes appear heavy with the relaxed way he blinks at the screen. He’s sunk back into the cushions, legs spread just so, hands interlocked over his stomach, rising and falling with his breaths. An empty bowl of popcorn rests on the coffee table along with a hollow box of Jujyfruits. 

Five separate sketches of him now constitute the beginnings of your new sketchbook. He tilts his head to peer over at you when he no longer hears the familiar brush of graphite against paper.

The cushions shift as he straightens up and rubs his eyes with lazy fists. 

“All finished?” he asks, and you nod. “Can I see?” 

When you pass him the sketchbook, his eyes rove over the drawings with the attentiveness of a critic, but void of any harshness or critique. It’s more of an assessment, an appreciation. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. Raises the book to get a better look at the hatching technique you used to shade the first sketch you completed. 

It’s a straight-on portrait that he’d faced you for. There’s a sense of ease about his gaze. A warmth paired with an underlying pensiveness. He knows he’s being studied but feels more seen than exposed. 

Except, Eddie's so much more than you’ll ever be able to confine to a couple sheets of paper. Charming in an awkward way, with one of the kindest hearts you’ve ever known. Loving him is as easy as blinking or breathing. So natural it feels innate. He feels your gaze as he studies the sketches.

When he redirects his attention to you, he offers one of his steady, slow-moving smiles that never fails to make your stomach flutter. 

“Always staring at me,” he accuses, too lighthearted to be mistaken for a complaint. 

In truth, you observed everyone and everything. But never with the same admiration allotted to Eddie. There were so many layers that you feared you wouldn’t have the time to unravel them all. You’d never wanted to know the inner workings of another person so intimately. 

After a lifetime of slipping through the cracks, it sure was nice to be seen in an unadulterated way by you. 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur.

Eddie tracks your movements as you grab one of the accent pillows and toss it to the floor at his feet. A second later, you drop down onto it. His breath catches when you place two gentle hands on his knees and spread his legs so you can better settle between them. 

"Hope your day's gotten a little better since you’ve been here," you murmur.

Eddie swallows. Sets your sketchbook aside with a jittery hand. 

“It has." His voice is thick as anticipation stirs within him. "As soon as I walked through the door.”

You hum as he squirms, hyperaware of your touch as your hands drift along his thighs. His head tips back when you palm him through the fabric of his jeans. Warmth ignites in his cheeks and melts to his torso as his pants tighten in the wake of his arousal. Along the thick column of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobs with another swallow.

It hadn’t even taken much. 

His legs fall open wider, like a gate, when you begin to unbuckle his belt. The metal hardware clinks with your movements, breaking the hush between you. You pop the button, drag the zipper down. 

“Wanna help me get these off?” A sweet smile plays on your lips as you blink up at him. 

Eager, Eddie lifts his hips, and you help him shuck down his pants and underwear. There's a tent in the front of his boxers when you get to them, and he shifts with the new exposure by the time everything pools at his socked feet. 

Featherlight, your fingertips ghost toward the apex of his thighs, his milky skin dusted with sparse hair. His muscles twitch at the ticklish sensation, and he braces for the inevitable.

Except your touch flutters past where he aches. Bypasses where he strains toward his stomach. Instead, your hands sweep over his hips. Slip beneath the hem of his shirt to scratch along the low part of his stomach where a thin, dark trail of hair leads down to his need. 

His chest deflates on a slow, bated breath. You hide your coy smile in the inside of his thigh in the form of a kiss. Right over the small smiley face inked into his skin. Eddie huffs in flustered amusement. 

“This is—” 

“One of your favorite tattoos of mine,” he finishes with flushed cheeks. 

You grin in feigned surprise. “How’d you know?” You trace your nails back down to his quivering thighs. 

His arousal kicks up when you grant him the gentle brush of your fingertips over the rounded fullness that rests heavily between his legs.

“Sweetheart,” he finally sighs, dark eyes molten when they find yours. 

“Teddy,” you coo back. 

He doesn’t have time to brace when you begin to pepper an alternating line of kisses up his thighs until your lips find the part of him that needs you the most. 

His breath hitches. “Baby—”

A pleasured shudder rolls through him as you kiss up the elegant curve of the thick vein along his underside. You follow the path of his need all the way to the rosy tip, where a wet, gleaming pearl beads in a testament to his want. You suckle it away. Savor it.

Eddie's eyes flutter shut, body taut as you spit over him and wrap a secure hand around his base. The slick heat of your palm makes his hips stutter as you begin to pull upward in a steady tug. At the top, you circle your thumb around the mushroom tip. You dedicate another swipe of your thumb to a slow trace along his slit. 

Eddie is warm and rigid in your hold, beautifully at your mercy, and he knows it. Doesn't mind it. The full hum in his throat unravels into a low, shameless moan when his lips part. 

“Yeah, baby?” you meet his gaze and hold it. Heat pools between your legs. “You feelin’ good?” 

Eddie reaches out to stroke his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Please don’t stop.” 

You wouldn’t dream of it.

As you continue your languid strokes, you mouth at his inner thighs. Kisses, nibbles, licks. He’s so wound up that all of it gets to him. Pleasure tugs low in his gut with a radiance he can feel in his fingertips, his toes. 

With a practiced gentleness, your free hand lowers to massage the velvet weight of him that you’ve neglected. A rugged sound escapes him as he writhes. Even more so when you move to lap him again, this time taking him halfway and working what's left over with your hand. 

You pull away to trace your lips along his shaft, mindful of every inch and the tell-tale shudder that startles through him. You peer up through your lashes to find desperation etched across his features. 

He cups your cheek to get you to pause. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he insists. "Wanna feel you—lemme feel you.” 

You clench around nothing as he encourages you upwards. 

After you shuffle to your feet, you push your lounge shorts down, followed by your panties. Eddie strokes himself, gaze heavy-lidded as he watches. 

No sooner do you move forward to straddle his lap, standing on your knees with your hands braced on his shoulders. His hands find your hips, but one drifts lower in a curious glide between your parted legs. He graces through your slick folds, then brushes his thumb over your swollen bundle of nerves. He’s gauging if you’re ready for him, but you nearly crumble forward at his thoughtful touch. 

“So sensitive,” he notes lightly. A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as they find yours. 

“Because of you.” You pout as you reach down and align him at your entrance. 

He catches at your slick warmth and whispers a string of curses. It shouldn’t already be this good. You shouldn’t already be this ready. But both things are true because the two of you have somehow stumbled into your own little perfect world. Both his hands find your hips again as you ease yourself down to welcome him in. Inch by slow inch, every vein and ridge. 

You don’t realize you’re whining until you’ve sunken to accommodate all of him. Eddie runs a soothing hand up your back as you lean forward into his chest in an encompassing haze of fullness. Already, he’s touching that devastating part of you that’s so thoughtfully tucked away. He’s the only one who’s been able to reach it. To find it as if the path had been carved for him alone. It’s a homecoming in its own right. 

“You feel so good,” he sighs the news like it's hot off the press. Like the words can't make it out of his mouth any sooner.

For a brief moment, stillness prevails as you adjust around him. You tuck your nose into his hair, where the subtle scent of his sweet, herbal shampoo lingers. Instead of canting his hips upwards like he so desperately wants to, he lets you have the moment. Presses a kiss to the bulb of your exposed shoulder, then allows his hands to find the hem of your tank top. You move to pull it over your head. He does the same with his own shirt, biting back a groan as you shift over top of him. 

Your nipples pebble in the cool air, even more so when he cups your chest and circles them with his thumbs. The sensation throws you into a shiver that jumpstarts a roll of your hips. Eddie’s fingers return to your waist in a silent encouragement. 

Before long, you leverage the bend at your knees to lift off him, then lower yourself back down. A rhythm soon forms, Eddie’s hips rise to meet yours. His thighs quake as a strangled sound of relief spills past his lips. 

A whimper escapes you as an invisible string pulls you forward to dot a few languid kisses across the apple of his cheek as you continue to ride him. 

“Oh—shit,”  he exhales shakily. “You’re perfect, sweetheart.” He sounds panicked and awed all the same. 

All you can do is hum at his words. Every time you lower onto him, it feels like he manages to reach a new depth that makes you want to crawl away. Yet your hands find his tattooed chest for the sole purpose of feeling more of him, his warm, dewed skin. A shiver shakes him when the tip of your nail grazes over one of his nipples. Spurred on, you pinch the peaked flesh next, which earns you a particularly hard thrust as he groans. A jolt of electricity rushes straight between his legs with the threat of being his undoing. 

“You’re gonna make me come, angel.” The shameless, exasperated way he says it makes you clench around him. 

You lower a hand to rub tight, purposeful circles over the tender bud between your legs, the pleasure sharper in the wake of his words. 

“I want you to come,” you attempt to keep your voice steady as you lilt. “Want you to fill me up. Want all of you.” 

Eddie groans and sags back into the cushions in an air of disbelief. Somehow you’re real. Somehow you chose him. And you’d never led him to believe that things should be any other way.

You lean forward in pursuit of him to kiss his throat, then up along his jaw until you’ve arrived at his bitten lips. The kiss carries the neediness of being on the edge. 

“Always gonna want you,” you whisper heavily against his mouth.  

Eddie whimpers. “You have me.” His thighs tense beneath you as he teeters on the brink. This time, when his hand finds your waist, it’s to ground himself in the intoxicating rock of your hips. 

You kiss him one last time, saliva slinking between you, before you touch your dewy forehead to his. 

“Come with me,” you frantically encourage. “Eddie, please—” 

The broken sound that punches out of him sends you into the thralls of a reckless release. It’s swift and forceful like a lightning bolt zipping from the sky. Your walls flutter around him as pleasure courses in every direction. Eddie has no choice but to let go. He jolts beneath you like stricken earth. His stomach clenches in time with each pulsing wave of release. 

Eddie’s neck becomes your hiding place as aftershocks ripple through you both. Your lips begin to press more deliberate kisses to the space where his neck and shoulder join. Beneath you, he sits like putty and softens within the warmth of you. He’s attuned to every small shift you make. You’re not quite ready to relinquish the fullness. 

A steady, clammy hand glides up your back and settles at the nape of your neck. When you sit up to meet his tired, satisfied gaze, you're struck by a surge of fondness. Of love. If you could erase his bad days, keep them from ever touching him, you would. But you can’t. They’ll come, for both of you, whether you like it or not. 

Still, you had this. Each other. That’s enough to make life a little sweeter, a little kinder. Even on the days that are anything but. 

Eddie’s lashes flutter when you run a gentle finger down his nose. “You okay?” you ask. 

He shifts beneath you, wincing at his forgotten sensitivity. A small smile pulls at his lips as he finally nods at your question, contentment clear in his eyes. 

“Promise?” you ask. 

“I promise, sweetheart.” 

He offers his pinkie as a seal of truth. 

- 

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all!

MORE EDDIE

ALL MASTERLISTS

[slutzforbueckers]

interruption— p.b x fem!reader

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: fluff

synopsis: kk burst into a romantic moment between you and paige to tell you about her latest crush.

a/n: idk i just thought of this, i was going for something sweet and funny. i hope it’s good!

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

the bedroom was quiet, a sanctuary of warmth and soft murmurs. the only sound being the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling in the small space between you. the dim glow of the bedside lamp cast a golden hue over paige’s features as she lay facing you, her hand cradling your cheek like you were her most prized possession.

“you know i love you, right?” paige murmured against your lips, her voice low and intimate, like she was afraid to break the delicate are atmosphere surrounding you two. her thumb tracing lazy circles along your cheek, her touch feather-light.

“i know,” your lips curled into a small smile, your eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as you leaned into her touch. “but i never get tired of hearing it.”

paige’s chest tightened at that. she took her time admiring every inch of your face— the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. then, she leaned in, pressing the softest of kisses to your lips. your movements were unhurried and gentle, both of you savoring the warmth of each other.

you sighed into the kiss, fingers tightening slightly where they rested against paige’s waist. she pulled back just enough to hover, her nose brushing yours as she whispered, “i love you so much.”

your hand slid up to rest at the nape of paige’s neck, fingers playing with the fine hairs there. “i love you more.” you murmured. your voice was barely above a breath, like you were scared saying it too loudly would make the moment disappear.

“not possible,” paige shook her head smiling, her tone soft but teasing, eyes bright with affection. she let her fingers trace down the side of your jaw, then along your collarbone. her touch was slow and deliberate, like she was trying to memorize every inch of you.

just as you opened your mouth to respond, the door flew open with a bang against the wall and kk came rushing in. she basically yelled your names as she jumped on the bed, making you and paige both jump. paige groaned and dropped her head onto your shoulder. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

you let out a quiet chuckle, clearly amused by the sudden intrusion, but paige was nowhere near as tickled as you. she lifted her head just enough to glare at kk.

completely oblivious— or just entirely unbothered— kk strolled into the room and flopped onto the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly from the impact. “okay, so listen— there’s this new girl i met today, and i swear she might be my soulmate,”

“kk,” paige gritted out, her voice heavy with irritation. “what the hell? you know you’re cockblocking right now.”

you rolled your eyes and shoved paige’s shoulder, laughing at the disgusted face on kk’s face. “tell us about her.”

paige scoffed at your niceness. “i was trying to be romantic.” she grumbled, reaching blindly for your hand and squeezing it like she needed to ground herself before she lost her mind. you laced your fingers together and pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head.

“we’ll continue later, promise.” you whispered into her ear before pulling away and turning your attention to kk, who was making a gagging noise.

“oh my god, see, this is why I have to interrupt. yall are too much.” paige groaned again, dramatically throwing her free arm over her face. “anyway, back to the important part—this girl. I think I’m in love.”

paige let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “fine. tell us about your ‘soulmate,’” she muttered, because at this point, there was no getting rid of KK.

kk beamed, launching into an animated story about how she met the girl, while you just smiled, shaking you head fondly. paige sighed again and rested her head on your chest, listening to the steady beat of your heart and kk’s voice eventually became a noise in the background. you gently squeezed her hand, as if a reminder that later you’d pick up where you left off.

for now though, you’d lay back a listen to the younger girl ramble about being in love.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

[bueckersworld]

GOOD WITH HER HANDS

SYNOPSIS: paige is always true to her word—“yknow i’m good with my hands.”

WARNINGS: smut - mdni, fluff, umm idk if there’s anything else, but comment if you notice something! continuation of WHISPER

WORD COUNT: 2.4k. info. masterlist. taglist.

────୨ৎ────

the day was chaos. from back-to-back interviews to nonstop teasing from your teammates, you felt like you were constantly trying to dodge sly grins and side-eyes. every time you looked up, someone was whispering, nudging, or flat-out laughing. you swore even the hotel staff looked at you funny when you walked through the lobby.

but paige? paige was thriving.

she never let go of that smug smile. the kind that made you want to kiss her and smack her at the same time. and somehow, even after a whirlwind of attention, she never seemed rattled. if anything, she looked energized by it. and every time your eyes met across a room, her expression darkened just a little—like she was still holding onto that promise from last night.

and you hadn’t forgotten. not for a second.

so when the night finally settled and the team filtered off to their rooms, paige found you near the elevator, her championship hoodie slung over her shoulder, curls damp from a shower, face glowing under the dim lobby lights.

“room 1205,” she whispered as she brushed past you, just barely grazing her fingers along your hand. “don’t keep me waiting.”

your heart skipped. maybe two beats.

you tried to act calm, tried to look unfazed as you gave your teammates a quick wave and told them you were turning in. but your fingers were trembling when you tapped the elevator button, and your stomach felt like it was twisting into tight little knots of anticipation and nerves.

by the time you reached the twelfth floor, your skin was buzzing.

you hesitated outside the room for a moment, swallowing hard before you finally knocked.

the door opened almost instantly.

paige stood there in a uconn hoodie and black basketball shorts that clung to her hips. her blonde hair was down, loose and slightly messy, and she was barefoot, looking both impossibly casual and dangerously inviting.

“hey, superstar,” she said, leaning against the doorframe with that same cocky glint in her eye. “you get tired of being famous yet?”

“so tired,” you muttered, stepping inside as she moved aside. “can’t go five minutes without someone mentioning that damn video.”

“mm,” she hummed, shutting the door behind you. “they’re just jealous.”

you turned around to face her, arms crossed loosely. “jealous of what?”

paige raised a brow, walking toward you slowly. “jealous they don’t get to hear you scream their name.”

you groaned, heat rushing to your face. “paige, come on—”

“what?” she said innocently, stopping in front of you. “i meant during basketball. obviously.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto your lips. she was impossible.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“and you,” she said, stepping even closer, her hands finding your waist, “are beautiful.”

you swallowed thickly, her closeness turning everything inside you to static. “paige…”

her hands slid around to your lower back, pulling you into her. “i wasn’t kidding, you know,” she whispered against your ear. “last night. what i said.”

your breath caught again.

you could feel the heat radiating off her. her lips brushed your jaw, featherlight, and her hands wandered—slowly, deliberately—over the curve of your hips.

“i’ve been thinking about it all day,” she murmured, voice low and sinful. “how i’m gonna back it up.”

you shivered.

your hands found the hem of her shirt, fingers curling in the soft cotton as your forehead pressed to hers. “is this your idea of celebrating?”

“mhmm,” she said, nose nuzzling yours. “and you’re the confetti.”

you laughed despite yourself, a breathy, nervous sound. “that’s so corny.”

“you love it.”

you did.

you loved every stupid, smug, infuriating thing about her.

and she knew it.

she leaned in and kissed you, slow and soft at first—just enough to make you lean into her. then deeper, more urgent, like she was tasting victory all over again. your fingers gripped her shirt tighter as her mouth moved against yours, all heat and promise, and your body melted into hers like instinct.

it wasn’t long before she was backing you toward the bed, her kisses growing bolder, more possessive.

“still embarrassed?” she asked between kisses, her voice dropping.

“mortified,” you breathed.

she smirked. “good. let’s make it worse.”

your laugh was swallowed by her mouth.

and in that moment, with the championship trophy sitting somewhere miles away, and the internet still laughing at your expense, none of it mattered. not when paige was here, holding you like you were her real prize.

and this time, there were no cameras.

no mics.

no teammates.

just you and her, and the silence waiting to be broken.

your back hit the mattress with a soft thud, paige hovering above you, eyes dark with desire.

you broke away from her lips just long enough to tug her hoodie over her head, barely catching your breath before she was on you again—kissing you like a woman starved, devouring you like you were her last meal.

her mouth traveled along your jaw, then to the curve of your neck. your fingers tangled in her hair as you gasped.

“so pretty…” she murmured against your skin, grazing it with her teeth before soothing the bite with her tongue. her hands slid up under your shirt, the chill of her fingers making you shiver.

“paige…” you breathed out, your voice trembling. she pulled your shirt up and over your head, the sudden exposure to cool air sending goosebumps across your skin. her gaze roamed hungrily over you, drinking in every inch.

“god,” she whispered, eyes locked on yours. “look at you… absolutely beautiful.”

her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she reached behind you, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. she peeled the straps down your arms and let it fall somewhere behind her.

“paige, c’mon… please,” you whispered, desperate and aching, still clutching at her hair as you pulled her closer.

“patience, baby. i got you,” she whispered back, her voice low and reassuring. her fingers toyed with the waistband of your pants, tugging and letting it snap softly against your skin.

you groaned in frustration, your body flushed and ready. she only laughed, low and teasing.

“alright, alright…” she murmured, finally sliding your pants down your legs, your underwear following.

she took a moment, just watching you, her smirk growing wider.

“this wet already?” she teased, her hands gliding over your thighs. “been thinkin’ about this too, huh?”

you couldn’t even speak—your breath caught in your throat as she gently pushed your legs up and apart, sinking to her knees between them.

her thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

you whimpered. “paige, please…”

and then—no warning—her mouth was on you. her tongue slid through your folds, relentless and greedy, like she’d been waiting forever for this moment.

your back arched off the bed, a loud moan escaping as she found every right spot without hesitation. one hand yanked at her hair while the other clenched the sheets beneath you.

it only got more intense when she slid two fingers inside you, curling them perfectly, smirking against your skin when you cried out.

“oh fuck—” you gasped, your thighs threatening to close around her head, but her free hand pinned you down.

she switched between slow, tantalizing flicks of her tongue and rough, desperate sucks to your clit. you were drowning in pleasure, moaning like you couldn’t breathe without it.

“paige—oh my god…” you whimpered, your hips bucking up to meet her mouth. you were delirious, her name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“c’mon, baby,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, her voice thick with lust. “gimme all of it.”

she pumped her fingers faster, curling them just right. your hips moved with her rhythm, chasing the edge until it slammed into you—sudden and overwhelming.

your back arched, your eyes squeezed shut as you cried out, her fingers dragging you through it, coaxing out every last wave of release.

“fuck…” paige breathed, finally easing her fingers out. she watched as your slick dripped down, then lifted her hand to her mouth, sucking her fingers clean—never breaking eye contact.

your cheeks burned with heat, breath still shaky.

she wasn’t kidding when she said she was good with her hands.

the night was a blur, filled with soft kisses and whispers from paige to you.

⸻

sunlight was barely peeking through the thin curtains when you stirred.

you weren’t sure what woke you—the warmth of the room, the faint hum of the air vent, or maybe just the steady heartbeat beneath your cheek. either way, you were cocooned in something impossibly soft and still, the world outside muffled and far away.

paige’s arm was slung over your waist, heavy and possessive, her hand resting against your bare skin like it belonged there. your legs were tangled together under the sheets, your body completely wrapped in hers, as if even in sleep, she couldn’t bear to let you go.

her breathing was slow and even, her chest rising and falling in rhythm. she was out cold, lips slightly parted, hair messy and fanned out across the pillow. you smiled to yourself, gently tracing your fingers across her ribs, careful not to wake her.

last night was still buzzing through your body—ghosts of touches, the echo of her voice, the way she looked at you like you were everything. and now, in the soft glow of morning, it felt even more real.

like it wasn’t just heat and want.

it was this.

quiet, tangled, close.

safe.

you shifted slightly to get a better look at her, and she stirred, brows twitching before her eyes fluttered open just a sliver. she squinted against the light, then blinked at you, bleary and slow.

“mm,” she hummed, voice rough with sleep. “you’re still here.”

you snorted. “that a surprise?”

“a good one.” she tightened her arm around you, burying her face in your neck. “i thought maybe you’d sneak out and escape the teasing.”

“i considered it,” you teased, stroking your hand through her hair. “but you’re warm. and i like your bed.”

“my bed is a hotel mattress with questionable sheets.”

“yeah,” you whispered, “but you’re in it.”

that earned you a soft laugh, muffled by your skin.

she pulled back just enough to look at you. her eyes were sleepy, but so clear. like she was really seeing you for the first time today, and maybe every time before.

“you okay?” she asked quietly, fingertips brushing along your spine.

you nodded, biting your bottom lip to hide your grin. “better than okay.”

“good,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “you deserve to feel good.”

you exhaled, your chest rising into hers. “you always talk like that?”

“like what?”

“like i’m fragile.”

“you’re not,” she said immediately, firm. “but you’re mine. so i care.”

your heart squeezed.

god, she always knew how to say the one thing that cracked you wide open.

you leaned in, pressing a lazy kiss to her jaw, then another one just beneath her ear. “you’re soft in the mornings.”

“shh,” she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut again. “don’t ruin my rep.”

“too late. i’m telling the whole team.”

she groaned. “you’re evil.”

“you love it.”

“unfortunately.”

you both laid there for a while longer, limbs tangled and breaths syncing. there was no rush to move, no place you’d rather be. even the thought of breakfast or the inevitable team group chat roasting you again didn’t bother you as much as it should’ve.

paige shifted onto her back, bringing you with her so your head rested on her chest. her fingers absentmindedly traced along your arm, drawing little patterns into your skin.

“do you think anyone heard?” you asked after a moment.

“they definitely heard.”

you groaned and buried your face in her.

she laughed softly. “don’t worry, they’re just jealous.”

“you already used that line.”

“because it’s true.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading across your cheeks.

“you know they’re never gonna let us live that video down,” you muttered. “i might actually die.”

“no, you won’t,” paige said, lifting your chin so you’d look at her. “you’ll survive. i’ll protect you.”

you gave her a look. “you’re the reason the video exists.”

“and i’d do it again.”

you glared, but she leaned in and kissed the pout right off your lips, slow and sweet, until you melted into her all over again.

you pulled away just enough to whisper, “you’re dangerous.”

“i know,” she whispered back. “but you’re safe with me.”

your heart did a backflip.

it was stupid how easy she made you feel things—like your entire chest was too small for what you were holding.

“can we just… stay here?” you asked, voice small.

“all day,” she promised, running her fingers through your hair. “they can win the parade without us.”

“yeah,” you yawned, already sinking deeper into her. “we’ve won enough.”

paige smiled, watching you curl into her side, your breaths slowing.

“sleep,” she murmured, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “i’m not going anywhere.”

and neither were you.

© bueckersworld

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ first smut!!! idk how i feel about it but yall let me know what yall think!!! ahhhhh

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠٫ 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎..

🏷️: @shikaizer @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround