#which sucks because i know that means that’s something i gotta work on

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Two

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Still establishing some more lore and feelings. Currently, the Batfamily has two yanderes. With more yandere’s being revealed outside of Gotham and some in Gotham about to start falling into obsession. Also, my favorite Reader is one who is manipulated into thinking the collar around their neck is a necklace. Will be working on Part Three, but it might take longer because we have obsessions starting and Reader starting to get to a breaking point.

Warning(s): Yandere themes, Obsessive behavior

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Poor Reader has it rough. Not too rough, but still life kinda sucks and they wanna go home now, please and thank you.

But, as always, things start to brighten up a notch or two.

Reader is thriving at school, sure they can’t hang out with their friends, but their friends understand (which honestly kinda odd, but they’ll roll with it)

There is a small issue.

Reader is a metahuman. (I know, shocking. So unique.)

Reader controls the weather, at will or with extreme emotions (oooooo interesting)

Back in their hometown, Reader didn’t have to hide said abilities that much. (Hell, more than a few people knew about it. Such an understanding community.)

Here in Gotham, in a practical stranger’s house, they’re not gonna to that.

Which is fine. Fine fine fine

Okay, so Reader is tense. Doesn’t have a healthy outlet, and is bottling things up. So that storms brewing. Gonna be fun when that comes back to bite Reader in the ass.

But, things are looking up. (I swear this time!)

Duke and Cass are hanging out with Reader more. They’re sorta becoming a trio of amigos.

Though, they do disappear often. For long periods of time.

Reader is pretty sure Bruce is Batman, at this point.

They’re not stupid, it’s in their damn genetics to be somewhat intelligent, so to speak.

But, no one actually tells reader. It’s lead to some awkward situations of them going silent when Reader enters the room, or the manor being unusually empty after everyone went to the ‘library’.

(Smalltown doesn’t mean stupid, bunch of jerks.)

It just makes reader feel even less like they’re part of the family. Even Alfred disappears for a time, leaving Reader completely alone with nothing, but portraits and old wood furniture.

No one says anything. No one mentions a single thing. (Am I not worthy of the secret? Why did you drag me here only to ignore me?)

Bruce continue to bounce between ignoring and coddling. Yet gets upset if Reader does the same. (Making them anxious.)

Dick pops back in, immediately showering Reader and excessive amounts of affection before shooing them off cause he’s gotta take care of somethings. (It makes reader feel like a pet in a degrading way.)

Jason gets caught harassing Reader by Alfred. Which leads to a screaming match between Jason and Bruce. It’s a violent one, but Alfred drags Reader out of the room before they can see. (But they hear things breaking and It’s terrifying.)

After that, Reader is extremely cautious around Jason. Which for some reason makes him angry and more violent. (Why does he hate me? This is scary.)

Stephanie starts to come around. Slowly. They’re getting there. (Stephanie still prefers to hangout with Tim and Tim…)

Tim ignores Reader the most. Will not talk to Reader at all. Which sucks because Teader thinks they would total get along. (But, nope. All they get is the cold shoulder.)

Reader just avoids Damian like the plague.

Reader talks more often to her other half-brother living miles away than the one she’s currently living with. (That’s gonna piss Damian off later)

While Barbara remains cordial.

Life is moving on. We’re good. Everything’s good.

Wait? Gotham Academy is having its own student Gala? That sounds amazing! Getting dolled up, having a night with friends. Maybe…. Having a date escort them….

And the best part is, Bruce says Reader can go.

Now, Cass and Duke and Damian won’t be going. Which is a bummer, but Reader understands.

Bruce even buys reader something to wear.

An obnoxious designer outfit. (A couture ruffle monstrosity that’s all the rage on the runway.)

It’s so terrible you have to laugh. (Just to hide how upsetting it is that no one actually knows what you like here or bothers to ask.)

Reader even shows Stephanie and they share a laugh. (It’s great. Reader needed that laugh.)

But, there’s no way Reader is going to wear this. So, Reader calls their childhood friend and favorite fashion designer.

Commissioning a more mature outfit. (Reader is almost grown, time to take a break from the ruffles and embrace the sexy.)

BFF comes through and then a week later someone shows up at Wayne Manor. (Damn that was fast.)

Someone from Reader’s hometown, and this starts to set things in motion.

BFF’s older brother, Reader’s childhood crush, shows up holding a dress and driving Daddy’s old truck. Which he hands Reader the keys too.

Nana and Grand Daddy, the Step Grandparents, wanted to surprise reader with a gift from home. (Remind Reader how much better living in a smalltown is compared to somewhere like Gotham. How much their town adores them and misses them.)

Poor oblivious Reader. Not realizing their smalltown is so desperate to have them back. (Reader was their’s first, they know Reader best.)

Nor how desperate Gotham is going to be to make force reader to stay.

[deadsetobsessions]

Writing Prompt… kind of? Definitely write more if you want but this was a cute little “fic starter” that popped into my mind.

——

Danny didn’t know the first thing about art. This is an important fact.

“Sam, why am I even here?”

“Suck it up, Casper.”

“The show or the school?” Danny privately thought Casper the Friendly Ghost was the best thing to have come around. It did wonders for improving relations between Amity and inhabitants of the Zone.

Sam smacked him on the arm. “You know which one. You’re just here to be the normie judge. You don’t need to know anything about art.”

“Everyone here is like an art acolyte or something, Sam! I’m an engineering newb in a room full of people with art PhDs!”

Sam rolled her eyes and checked her manicures. “If you call Fenton Works newb level, then the rest of the world would be Neanderthals. Seriously that’s why you’re here. The art’s gotta appeal to the untrained eyes too. I trust your judgement.”

Danny gave in. “Thanks, Sam. That means a lot.” He followed after Sam but after a moment, he whined, “But couldn’t you have taken Tucker? Dude’s got four untrained eyes!”

“He’s busy with his internship. And you were already in Gotham.”

They reach the exhibition, Sam and Danny being welcomed in. Sam’s parents, while not the richest of the rich, were known art connoisseurs and respected people in the communities that dotted around the world. On top of being the descendants of the man that invented the deli toothpick cellophane twirling device, that is. Sam was standing in their place today- begrudgingly- because they’d promised to pay for an entire month of Gotham architecture tours and a trip to Japan. After all, Sam had much of their knowledge too. If anyone could say anything about the Masons, it was that they were passionate in their chosen field. L

“The contestants are in the room next door. The judge panel is beginning.” The person at the door informed them. He gave them a slip of paper and a pen to mark their choices in each field. Danny breathed a sigh of relief and began wandering around.

After he wandered between the oil paintings- “oo, this one. Reason why… the vibes are nostalgic. I like it.”- and the various depictions of a specific ship, Danny was pulled to a stop by his core reaching out. He looked up and what he saw took his breath away.

It was just a photo.

But it felt like he was there, on that rooftop, crouched among the shadows and watching the early rays of muffled light hit the tops of his city. His core thrummed. It felt like protection. It felt like he was being fulfilled, like Danny was once more becoming Phantom and that he was watching over this city he’s beginning to understand.

Danny, almost fevered, scribbled down the name [A Robin’s Nest- by Tim Drake] as his number one choice to win the contest over all. And, at least, to win the first in the photography division.

——

“Oh, Ancients, are you okay?”

Danny had wandered around in the interim as the votes were tallied. He hadn’t been paying attention when he smacked into a little kid that could have been his little brother.

“Uhm. I’m good.”

Danny helped the kid up. “I’m Danny. I’m sorry I smacked into you. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yeah. I’m Timothy Drake. I’m good.”

Danny’s smile widened in shock. “Like the photographer? Oh, wow! I really loved that photo! It was amazing! It felt like I was up there with the vigilantes!”

As he spoke, Danny glanced around for the kid’s designated adults. Hm. That’s odd. Everyone and their parental figure was accounted for.

“Oh.” Timothy flushed. “Thanks! I hoped the judges liked it too.”

Danny smiled, a small secretive thing. “Oh, I’m sure they will. Will you tell me more about your photography?”

“Oh, if you want!”

——

[always-just-red]

Heya! Rafayel with a reader who's slightly afraid of deep water because she doesn't know how to swim? Fluff please!

Thanks for the request! Hoping this is the perfect balance of heartfelt moments and utter silliness. It's Raf, after all! Gotta have fun with it! ❤

Practice Makes Perfect

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: "I'll teach you how to swim!" he said. "It'll be fun!" he said. Let's be honest: the warning signs were there from the very start.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, one instance of swearing, a mild panic attack, humour, Raf bullies you ('out of love!!'— his words, not mine 🙃)

| Word count: 2.3k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel, can you stop that? Please?”

You watch as Rafayel bobs around in the water in front of you. “Swimming?” he asks, pushing slick hair back from his forehead with a lazy smile. “Nah. I’d drown.”

“No, I—” you suck in a sharp breath to keep yourself from wasting it. He knows exactly what you meant. He knows what he’s doing, too: making everything look effortless when you can’t even get out of the stupid boat.

It tips you a little closer towards the ocean, as if responding to your criticisms. You’re done with this. Done with him. Swimming lessons with Rafayel had seemed such a promising idea a few months ago, but now? You’re thinking it would have been better to go it alone. If you’d have drowned, you’d have at least drowned in peace.

He calls his teaching style ‘motivational’, which is to say he spends every lesson trying to motivate you to lunge at him, regardless of your personal safety. It was funny at the local pool. It’s less funny here, on a rickety boat in a deserted bay, where the only witnesses to your demise would be a setting sun and an insufferably smug Lemurian.

You glance up, seeking the familiar half-oceans of his eyes. They’re taunting you to the point of distraction: heating the blood in your veins that had just been running cold. Look at me, they gloat, alive with shimmering reflections, you’re mad at me, remember? 

And they have a point. You are. “Stop showing off.”

“Can’t help it.” Dark water laps at the pale of his collarbone. “It’s just so easy.”

“Says the actual mermaid.”

“Merman!”

“Oh whatever!”

He pouts. Then he strokes his chin thoughtfully. “I was worried about this,” he muses, as if he has actually masterminded a teaching plan, and hasn’t just been winging it from the start. He clicks his fingers, signalling a lightbulb moment. “Lucky for you, your super duper swimming teacher came prepared. Check my bag!”

He sinks until he’s peering out from the water, the lower half of his face submerged so you can’t see his smile. You can, though; it’s obvious. You roll your eyes and take the bait because it’s better than sitting here questioning your life decisions and your own mortality. Your hands rifle through his bag until they stumble upon something unusual. Smooth. Plastic. Is this what he meant?

You pull the package out into the evening light, narrowing your eyes.

Inflatable arm bands. Brand new. A toddler beams at you from their cover, seemingly thrilled by its extra buoyancy, and its parents are watching on with unbridled pride. You tilt your head as you read: suitable for ages 2-5! “Not funny, Raf. Not funny at all.”

“What d’you mean?” You flash the photo at him, tapping the toddler’s face. “Yeah? What about it?”

“These are for kids! You’re making fun of me now? Really?”

“No…” His hand leaves the water to scratch at the back of his head. “I thought that was a suggestion? It was kinda confusing, actually. You humans have such weird stuff to help you swim.”

“Oh don’t you dare play the Lemurian card right now!” you seethe, in the middle of retrieving an arm band from the packaging. “You knew! I know you did.”

Set on making your point, you blow air into the arm band’s nozzle. It’s so infuriatingly small; it takes all of three breaths to fill it. “I mean, look at it!” you exclaim, holding it out to him.

He barely keeps his act together. “I think it’s, like… stretchy, yeah?” His bottom lip is caught between his teeth: he’s biting back laughter. “Try it on, maybe it’ll—”

Smack! The arm band hits the water in front of him, and he blinks down at it, shocked.

“Wooooow,” he enthuses sarcastically, “nice throw! I bet the Wanderers just run for the hills when they see you comin—”

Thwack! Another half-inflated arm band strikes his face, and he reels backwards.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re so full of it, Rafayel!” you can’t help leaning towards him, and the rowboat lurches. You clutch at the side of it, but you’ve had enough. “Ugh. Screw it.”

Your adrenaline is lurching too, and you make the most of the momentum: taking a deep breath and swinging your legs over the boat’s side. The chill of the ocean steals that breath away as you lower yourself into it. You’re going slowly, so slowly, your fingers still latched to the boat. But this is… something. You’re in the water. Oh gods you’re in the water. Don’t think about it. Don’t.

“Raf…” you squeak, because how can you not think about it when it’s cold and around your neck?

“I’m here,” he reassures from behind you, and he’s not close, but he’s close enough.

You look at him over your shoulder, gently tugging at the boat until you’re afforded a better view. He chuckles as he flicks the offending arm bands back into it: a calculated arc that sprinkles saltwater over your head. You wince, but you don’t mind.

“You just gonna… hang out there, then?” Rafayel enquires as you wipe a stray droplet from your eye.

“Yep.”

“Nice,” he grins, and it’s weirdly sincere. “Kinda wish you were over here, though.”

“Yeah?” You don’t move.

“I miss you.”

“Aww.”

You’re still not moving, but it doesn’t crush the embers of amusement that glow within his eyes. He’s thinking up ways to drive you crazy again, you just know it. “You could totally make it over here if you wanted,” he says flippantly. “It’s just swimming. If jellyfishes can do it, you definitely can.”

What? What? “They’re sea creatures!”

“Yeah, but they’re soooo stupid.” He taps his head. “No brains, y’know?”

You turn to the boat, pulling yourself impossibly closer to it. “Raf, c’mere,” you beckon, reaching back to him— grabbing at air.

“Why?” He draws nearer.

“So I can hit you.”

You swing a hand at him, but he dodges it, laughing. “If you wanna hit me, you have to reach me.”

There’s movement in the corner of your eye, so you twist to see it. His thumbs and forefingers have met as a square; he’s making a viewfinder. “What are you doing?” you speak from inside the frame.

“Making sure I remember this. I think I’ll paint it.” A corner of his lips lifts as he reveals a prospective title: “Cutie braves shark-infested waters.”

“Sharks?!”

“Who said anything about sharks?”

He’s messing with you— you know he’s messing with you— but you hide your face against your arms, all the same. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stifle your senses and your spiralling thoughts. You’re feeling everything too keenly: the water licking at your throat, the darkness beneath you, around you, waiting to pull you under and fill your mouth.

You never feel further from Rafayel than when you remember he calls that darkness home.

“Rafayel?” you call out, because you need him to tell you you’re being ridiculous. You need him to laugh with you, at you— you don’t care so long as you can hear it.

The only sound is water, and it’s cold and dispassionate.

“…Rafayel?” You glance behind you, and he isn’t there.

What do you do? What do you do? Your mind is in contest with your heart; they’re both trying to see who can race faster. You still can’t move. Shit. What can you do?

“Hey.” Rafayel’s voice makes you jump. He’s next to you all of a sudden, water streaming down from his hair and running over his shoulders. He rests an arm on the boat, too. “I’m here, ok? I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

Breathe? “Don’t do that!” you force out of aching lungs, and then your mouth is trying to catch up with the rest of you. “I thought something happened to you! What if something did happen to you? I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t help you. What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he cuts in. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes are watering and he’s so close, but it’s not enough. You reach out, pulling him, urging him to close the distance, and he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. You can feel the heat of his breath and it’s deep, slow: one, two. One. Two. You hold him until you can match it, and almost everything’s still— the ocean, your mind— but not your heart.  

The waves break softly against the boat and they’re breathing with him, too.

“You ok?” Rafayel murmurs. His wet hair is clinging to your skin.

“Yeah,” you sigh.  

He pulls away and gives you a smile. “Wanna know what I’m thinking about?”

Always.  

“The claw machine,” he continues, because it was, as you suspected, a rhetorical question. “Remember that time you took, like, a hundred goes to get that one plushie? We were there for, what— an hour? Maybe two?”

You sniffle, and you’re just leaning on the boat, now— not gripping it. “That’s because it was a peach blossom birb, Raf. They’re super rare.” Another sniffle. “And the only reason I got it is because you kept buying more tokens.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Because I knew you’d get it eventually. Just like I know you’re gonna get this. We’ve got all the tokens in the world, yeah? So it’s just like before. One go at a time.”

His gaze is full of faith, and you want to be worthy of it. “One go at a time,” you repeat. “Thanks, Raf. Really.” You tilt towards him again, set on kissing his cheek, but he swerves away like it’s another attack.  

“Nuh-uh.” He propels himself backwards. “You wanna kiss me? You gotta meet me out here, cutie.”

And he’s so far already. “C’mon, Raf,” you whine.

“C’mon yourself! Look at me!” He runs a hand through his hair— beads of water sliding and sparkling across his skin. “I’m a total catch.”

“More like catch of the day when I get my hands on you.”

“Cute,” he quips, treading water. “You gonna come get me then, or what?”

You eye up the distance between you. You’re willing yourself to cross it; it won’t be good, it won’t be graceful, but you can do it, right? You just have to go for it. Three. Two. One… Go!

Nothing happens. Rafayel laughs quietly, and it’s warm— so passionate.  

“Here,” he says, meeting you in the middle. He holds out his hand.

You can’t trust the boat; it rocks beneath your touch and at the behest of every wave. It is just a thing, like you, at the mercy of something so much bigger than itself. Not Rafayel, though. He’s a part of all this, maybe even the heart of all this. The ocean will not betray him. It needs him to beat for it. To bleed.

Your hand grasps his and you let him guide you into the open water. You’re borrowing him. Stealing him, if only for a moment. He isn’t living for his ocean right now— he’s looking at you. Just you. There are canvases back in his studio, awash with cerulean waves and his love for Lemuria, but there are sketchbook pages, too: you, asleep on his couch. You, with a lily in your hair.

A few days from now, there’ll be a new one, etched eagerly in dark pencil. This.  

Rafayel smiles as you tread water with him. Your movements are clumsy, half-frantic, but you’re keeping yourself afloat. He gives you time to adjust, to find some semblance more of a natural rhythm, but your muscles ache and you’re getting tired, so he draws your arms around his neck.

“What d’you think?” he asks, because you’ve captured him. “Better than a beach bottom bird, right?”

“A peach blossom birb,” you giggle into his shoulder.

“Yeah, that too.”

…

The sky is full of stars, and the sun has sunk behind the wine-dark horizon.  

Rafayel rests his chin on his arms, staring down into the ocean from the edge of the boat, and he’s deep, deep below those waters too. You don’t have to see his eyes to know the faraway look they’re harbouring. There’s nostalgia for all the things he cannot show you. Grief. Rage. Regret.

He thinks you don’t see it, but you do. Especially on nights like this, when the azures of the waves turn black beneath the moon, and they could just as well be blood-red.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Rafayel.”

You’re not sure what compels you to say it, but he glances up at you, his gaze a brief storm of turquoise before settling to its usual amethyst. “Waiting for you?” he asks warily.

“To get all of this swimming stuff. I know it must seem silly to you.”

He relaxes, sitting up straight with a smirk. “Most of what you do seems silly to me. Not this, though. Change can be… scary sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

He slouches back down, but he’s on his side this time— still looking at you. “What made you decide you wanna swim, anyway?”

You mirror him, laying your head against the boat’s edge. “I don’t know. I guess—” waves are sloshing beneath you— “I guess it’s because the sea is a part of you. It’s in your paintings, your stories, and I’ve always felt… disconnected from it. Like it’s fiction— something I could only ever hear about second-hand. But I want to feel it for myself. To know it. All of it. All of you.”  

With a sigh, you give your hand to the ocean and draw mindless shapes in the water. Rafayel watches. You both know you’re only touching the surface.

He smiles, bittersweet. “Wanna go home?” he says.

Home. You pull your hand out of the water and smile back.

It’s been a long day. Yeah, you wanna go home.

[tootiecakes234]

I just know you would receive “gifts” from Katsuki all the time. They’d be little things to make your life easier that you didn’t even know you needed.

You like to read at night to unwind, but sometimes it’ll be a really good book so you want to stay up reading it. The thing is you don’t wanna bother Katsuki cuz you know he has a strict bedtime. This means often times you’ll stay a little longer in the living room reading as to not bother him.

One night you’re getting ready for bed when you see a box next to your bed.

“Hey Kat, is this yours?”, you say loud enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

He peaks his head out the door and says, “No, I ordered it for you.” And then goes back to what he was doing.

You sit on the edge of the bed and open it up. It’s a reading light with a dampener so you can adjust the brightness.

He comes dragging his little slippered feet towards his side of the bed.

“Now you can keep your ass in bed. Tired of waking up and you being asleep on the couch. I’m an old man, I can’t keep carrying you to bed.”

You look at him with a bright smile on your face.

“You know you can just say, you like me being in the bed with you while you’re sleeping. You know, because I’m your big bad protector and I make you feel safe.”

“There is no talking to you sometimes you know that?”

It’s winter time and you always have your gloves on because you HATE your fingers being cold. The only problem is of course you have to remove said gloves to use your phone when you’re out and that SUCKS.

You’re out with him one day and you’ve been texting back and forth with Mina because her and her girlfriend are in an argument and she of course comes to you about it.

You are always there for your friend so you’ve been removing and putting on your gloves over and over again until Katsuki can’t stand it anymore.

You’re outside on a bench waiting for him while he runs into some shop when he comes back out he snatches your phone out of your hand.

“What the hell? I’m usin-“ you start shouting at him.

“ give me those shitty gloves and put these on. I’m sick of watching you struggle.”

When you look down you see a pair of gloves in your favorite color.

“How are these any different from the ones I have now, Mr. Know-it-all”

He smirks at you, “These gloves are thicker than those thin ones you use AND they work on smart phones.. so yea. I do know it all.”

“Oh…. Well thanks I guess” you murmur lowly.

“Now you can talk Racoon eyes through her mental breakdowns without getting frost bite in your fingers.”he says then hands you back your phone. “She deserve better than that idiot anyways. Don’t why she keeps putting up with it.”

Katsuki is leaving for a mission today and you’ve been so gloomy. He gonna be gone at least 3 days, maybe even the whole week.

You’re been wrapped around him like ivy since you woke up this morning.

“Listen woman, I have to go. You do this every time.”he says with his arms wrapped around you waist pulling you even more flush against him.

“You should clone yourself or something. Who am I gonna cuddle with now?? And who is gonna cook for me?? I’ll die of starvation before you get back. Is that what you want. To come home to a dead girlfriend???”

“You are so damn dramatic. Cuddle with the damn plethor of plushies you have in my goddamn bed. And as far as food… you won’t starve. You’ll just eat out everyday and I’ll come back to you complaining you’ve gained weight when you look the exact same.”

“I do not.”, you start to object.

“Yes you do. Which is why I made a few meals and froze them.” He says all smug, cuz he knows that would surprise you.

“You what??” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There’s a pot pie and dumplings. I even stored a lasagna in there.” Then his phone buzzes letting him know his ride is downstairs.

“Ok I gotta go. I love you.” And he bends down to give you a deep kiss. “Be safe. Call Eiji if you need anything and try not to burn the house down before I get back.”

“I love you too. Come back to me in one piece please.”

He smiles at you, “always”

He kisses you one more time and then heads to the car.

You go directly to the fridge to see the frozen meals he left you. And not only are the packages all neatly but he’s left the heating instructions on top for you.

To say there were tears shed would be an understatement.

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list in the comments💕

[ddejavvu]

hear me out... spencer reid with hickeys I can imagine him getting all nervous and reader just gives him like 20 on his neck and he puts on a scarf and the next day Morgan tugs it off and l o s e s it poor thing WHAHHA

"That's... a new look." Morgan raises an eyebrow at Spencer's purple scarf with a confused half-smile on his face, like he's trying to be supportive for Spencer's sake but doesn't know how.

"I'm cold." Spencer blurts, avoiding the man's eyes and staring down at his paperwork. He's a behavior analyst, he'd pick his mannerisms out as shady if anyone else did it, but he can't seem to appear casual for the life of him.

"Okay..." Morgan sits cautiously at his desk, "Something eating you, pretty boy? I know we're not supposed to profile each other and all, but you seem tense."

"Nothing's wrong." Spencer dismisses in that same clipped, tight tone.

"Right," Morgan drawls, "Okay."

There's a moment of awkward silence in which Spencer scrawls in information on the form he's looking at, and Derek stares at him.

Then he tries making peace, "Here, uh, lemme help you with that."

"With what?" Spencer wants to glance up, but doesn't want to see any hidden amusement in his coworker's eyes, "I know how to fill this out."

"No, I mean-" Derek reaches over his desk, fingers outstretched towards Spencer's neck, "The- scarf."

Spencer jerks away like Morgan's touch will sear his skin, eyes wide and panicked, 'No!"

"Reid," Morgan drawls, hand still stiff in the air, "What's your problem, man?"

"I- It's nothing." Spencer huffs, "I'm getting coffee."

He stalks off to the kitchen, but Morgan isn't deterred.

"Pretty boy," He calls, rushing to join Reid at the counter, "Listen, usually when people show up with a giant scarf on and don't let anyone touch it, they're hiding a hickey."

"I'm not hiding a hickey," Spencer pours sugar into his coffee by the pound, nearly emptying the container as he stirs it in, "I'm going to file a workplace harassment complaint against you if you don't stop."

"Sensitive," Derek marvels, keeping the hand that's creeping towards the back of Spencer's neck out of the man's line of sight. Then, quicker than Spencer can stop him, he grabs hold of the purple cloth and yanks, revealing that Spencer was telling the truth.

He's not hiding a hickey, he's hiding twenty hickies. Fifty, maybe, Derek can't tell because they run into each other like someone had sucked him like a leech.

He doesn't care about being dramatic; his jaw drops.

"Holy shit!" Derek whoops, holding the scarf over his head and pushing against Spencer's chest when the man tries taking it back, "You're- Jesus, did Dracula get to you? Oh my god," He laughs, not even bothering to quiet down as Hotch stalks in, a stern frown on his face at the noise level.

"Give it back," Spencer manages to overpower Derek, only because the man is too busy jeering to use his full strength. Spencer wraps himself tight in the scarf once more, avoiding Hotch's eyes as he finishes stirring his coffee.

"I've gotta go break the news," Derek rushes out, headed straight for Penelope's lair, "Babygirl!"

The silence in the kitchenette of the BAU is stifling, and if Spencer weren't hiding an army of hickies so dark that they nearly painted him purple all over, he'd take off his scarf for some relief. He's silent as he finishes stirring his coffee, and tries to drown out Penelope's excited shriek.

Hotch makes quick work of the coffee pot, and stands beside Spencer to put minimal cream into the substance. Before he leaves, while Spencer is still sugaring up his concoction, he clears his throat.

"Congratulations," He murmurs as he claps Spencer on the back once, nearly ramming the man into the cupboards he's weakly clinging to, "I have an old turtleneck somewhere that I can bring you, if this is gonna be a regular thing."

[gatorbites-imagines]

could I perhaps request some Bucky x male reader where it’s set after the kinktober oneshot and Bucky does realize that he still has an oral fixation until he like instinctively puts readers fingers in his mouth? Or maybe they’re just cuddling. Whatever you want mr gator!

Bucky Barnes x male reader

Headcanons

I miss Bucky, I miss Marvel, it just hasn’t been my number one since endgame. Where my Bucky lovers at? i miss his long hair too, it was such a look.

You two don’t start dating for a long time. Neither of you talk about that evening where you pretty much stole him from Hydra and he slobbered all over your leg and hand, sucking at your fingers like a delicious treat.

When Bucky started healing, he ended up apologizing to you with an embarrassed flush. You just wave it off, telling him to not even think about it. Everyone deals differently with trauma. Tony used to drink, Clint hid away on his farm, you hunted bigots and bucky sucked fingers. He was probably coping the healthiest out of all of you.

You guys probably first start really dating post endgame, unless you stay in Wakanda with him for one reason or another. I tried to place the reader as somewhere in the middle during the civil wars, so it’s up to you which side you were on.

When it takes place after endgame doesn’t matter much. You two are dating, finally getting some time off to just relax and get to be domestic together.

I can imagine Bucky somewhere inside yearns for something domestic, at least sometimes. Theres something so comforting about getting home, you two cooking dinner together, showering together, and cuddling with a movie.

Bucky is also a beast in the grocery store. That man is sniffing out sales like a bloodhound. You just have to push the cart as he places everything you guys need inside. You have a theory it’s because he grew up under the great depression, but you’ve never said this out loud.

This does also mean that you guys sometimes have some, strange… meals… it always tastes great, but Bucky comes up with combos you haven’t ever thought about. Theres very little food waste in your guy’s house, which is another plus.

Bucky would have believed all this time that the whole episode with him sucking on your fingers when you first rescue him, was just a fluke. His half-fried brain looking for some kind of comfort in it all.

So what if he still finds himself chewing on pens, straws, candy, the works. It’s just him needing something to do, it doesn’t mean anything.

It’s only after you guys have dated for a while, and everything is comfortable and good. Bucky gets the chance to heal and start discovering things about himself, that it starts to shine through.

It would happen when you guys were cuddling. Maybe it’s been such a long day that even a super soldier like Bucky would be tired, to the point where he isn’t thinking too hard about anything he does or says. He trusts you too much to be on edge, so he just kinda goes with the vibe.

Bucky would be laying with his head on your chest, your guy’s hands intertwined. You don’t say anything when Bucky brings your hand up to his mouth, just assuming he was gonna kiss the back of it like he does sometimes.

Well, that’s what you thought, before Bucky started sucking on your fingers. He doesn’t even seem to notice what he’s doing for a while.

And he looks too relaxed for you to say anything about it. Honestly, Bucky relaxes even more, sighing out his nose and melting further against your chest. It’s not like its painful or anything, so you just let him do his thing without saying anything.

Bucky is extremely embarrassed when he realizes what hes been doing. Maybe its when the movie ends so he has to focus again, only to notice the pool of drool on your chest and the soft calm sucking hes been doing of your fingers.

Your lover tries to apologize, stuttering and mumbling about not knowing what’s wrong with him. This is where you gotta step in and reassure him that it’s fine, you don’t mind. You like seeing him comfortable, and honestly? Knowing you are part of that comfort only makes it better.

This doesn’t mean Bucky is gonna start always sucking on your fingers, biting at you or anything. But he still feels more welcome to do so when he needs it, or when he feels really comfortable. Having an oral fixation is far from the closest thing you’ve ever met, so you are just happy to help.

[luveline]

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

When Eddie asks you on a date, you don’t believe it. He probably meant as friends, right? Spoiler alert — Eddie wants to be more than friends, and he’s willing to prove it. [4k]

fluff, slight hurt/comfort, fem!reader, plus-sized!reader, reader feels undesirable, kissing, obligatory ‘don’t be cruel’ scene, eddie calls you pretty like ten times, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has one of those smiles that screams trouble. Every time he looks at you with that smile he might as well have "I'm gonna break your heart," written across his forehead in tandem. 

You sneak a glance at him across the atrium. Eddie’s paused bussing tables to talk to a patron, his customer service voice in play with a matching smile. It isn't the one you mean, but it's bad enough to make you flush red-hot. You cross your arms over the bar, regret it for its stickiness, and let your head rest against the crook of your elbow. 

You've been working together for a long time now, almost six months, and he's your favourite coworker hands down. He cleans up after himself, he brings snacks that you never accept (lest you look like the greedy chubby girl you worry everyone expects you to be), and he talks to you like a real person.

It's horrifying and it's not fair, but being fat means that sometimes guys don’t want to look at you. They don't want to be in the same room with you, and you can tell; they avert their eyes, or simply don't talk to you directly.

You've never had that feeling with Eddie. He meets your eyes, unflinching, and he sends you one of those pretty smiles and you think Fuck, because he should've been a movie star, he has the cheekbones for it, or a rockstar like that band he's always raving about. He'd have a slim LA girl on both arms, no doubt about it. 

He likely wouldn't waste his time with you. 

Not someone pretty as he is. Sometimes he'll lean over and expose the flat stretch of his stomach, his v-lines and the dark trail of hair peeking above his jeans, and you feel acutely miserable 'cause you know you'll never get to touch him. Workplace crushes suck. 

"Hey, are you okay?" a voice asks, a hand dropping against your shoulder. 

You pull yourself up quickly. Speak of the devil, Eddie stands beside you with his hair tied away from his face. He looks more entertained than concerned, his smile unfortunately genuine. 

"I'm fine," you say, stepping back. His hand falls away from your shoulder. "Sorry, just tired." 

Eddie leans into your space, squinting. You freeze up, but he's only checking the time on the clock behind you. "Gotta tough it out. Still an hour and a half 'til closing." 

Which means there's more than two hours of your shift left. Your face must show how unexciting that is —Eddie laughs, warm and quiet, and gives your hand a squeeze. 

"You'll live," he promises. "Are you busy tonight? Maybe we could go get pizza or something." 

"What, nobody else is available?" you ask. 

His head juts back a touch, put upon shock. "And why can't I ask you? I like you and I like pizza, that's a good combination. And even if you don't like me that much, you like pizza, right?" 

You know —you know, you do— that Eddie doesn't mean it as a slight. This isn't some thinly veiled insult on how you look. Why wouldn't you like pizza? Most people do, but his comment twists itself into an evil inky ball in your chest anyways, thick and hot as tar. 

You shake it off. 

"Who says I don't like you?" you ask, steering the conversation away from food altogether. 

His smile gets somehow better, which is to say worse. You're being punished for something, a childhood wrongdoing or a future crime, perhaps. Nothing else could warrant the mental torture that is being so close to him while he looks the way he does. 

"Good. Good, then we should get pizza. It's a date," he says, nodding. 

Morgan the shift manager calls for him to stop distracting you, though the Hideout is abandoned tonight, and there's nothing to distract you from. Eddie stands at full height, with a soldier's salute. "Yes, sir. No more lollygagging." He turns to you when you laugh, and you share a secret smile. 

He and Morgan disappear into the back of house. If you strain your ears, you can hear Eddie complaining about having to keep his hair in a bun, as it's totally against what he stands for, dude, it's stifling his self expression. 

"Count yourself lucky I don't make you wear a hair net, kid," Morgan says.

You turn back to your sticky bar, numb. It's a date? Did he mean, like, an actual date? A romantic date? 

Not a chance in hell. It's a colloquialism. Nothing more. 

Despite yourself, you stare into the silver reflection of a beer tap and try to liven up. You fix your hair, check your teeth, dig a lip balm out of your apron pocket and scratch the corners of your mouth just in case. The entire time you're heckling yourself about delusions. Eddie Munson doesn't like you. He's had a girl come around once or twice, and she'd been everything you're not: slender, confident. You'd wanted to dislike her, but she hadn't done anything wrong. There's no crime in being desirable. 

For the remainder of the night, you man the bar and serve the occasional patron. It's a Sunday night, so most stick to light beer or soft drinks. The live entertainment says goodnight and the Hideout empties like an opened floodgate. You clean the bar, Eddie buses the tables, and the kitchen staff turn on the radio and get to work cleaning. Soon, you can smell cigarette smoke and reheated mozzarella sticks. 

You wander into the kitchen to help. 

"Hi beautiful," Leon says, one of the cooks, "you want something to eat?" 

"No she does not!" Eddie says, helping the dishwasher Marcie with her last round of plates. Suds drip down to his rolled sleeves as he waves his hands around. "We're going to get pizza." 

"Yes!" Marcie says, delighted. 

"Where are we going?" Paul asks, another cook. 

"We," Eddie says, pointing at you and then himself, "are going to Marletto's. Yeah?" 

You startle when you realise he's asking you. "Oh, sure. Anywhere you want." 

His head bobs up and down, pleased. He goes back to his dishes. "Anywhere I want," he murmurs to Marcie, though he's saying it for everybody to hear, "hear that, Marc? I'm spoiled." 

You wipe down a few counters, label some leftover iceberg lettuce and put it back in the fridge. It's easy work, made better by the camaraderie of your coworkers, but you can't settle down. Your heart races at what's to come. "It's a date," is starting to feel less colloquial now Eddie's dissuading the other from joining you. That's how that works, right? He wants to be alone with you.

It might not mean anything. Maybe Eddie needs something from you he doesn't want the others to know about, like money. Maybe he wants girl advice, finally chasing that pretty girl who drops by sometimes. Or boy advice —there's a guy who comes around too, tall and blond and handsome. 

There's a logical solution. Any other girl would hear the word date and take it at face value, but you aren't them. You're you. You can't remember the last time somebody looked at you with desire in their eyes, if they ever have. High school was a shit show and work isn't exactly a hub for romance. Eddie joining the team here is the most excitement you've ever had in your life, for all his gentle squeezes and teasing elbows, his inside jokes and his tendency to burst into an air guitar solo at any given moment. He's a cheeseball, and you like him. It sucks. 

"Hi, are you ready?" he asks, coming out of nowhere. You're kneeling down near the lockers tying your shoelaces. 

It is a horrible position for him to see you in. You can't imagine what you look like, but you know it won't be pretty. You spring up with your shoelace untied still and smile weakly. "Yeah, I'm ready." 

"You need help with that?" he asks, eyes on your shoe. 

You burn with embarrassment. "I– no, I–" 

Eddie kneels down on the floor and reaches for your shoe. He ties it quickly in a double-knotted bunny-loop and pats the side of your ankle when he's done. When he looks up at you, you're in the middle of hoping a natural disaster will occur and put you out of your misery. 

He smiles at you from his position. Does he ever stop? 

"Cool," he says, standing up. He grabs his coat from his locker and doesn't bother closing it. "Let's go! I'm starving, man, Leon needs to mess up more often so I can steal the rejects." 

You follow him in a daze. Through the lockers and out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to the lingering closers and a grimacing Morgan. You aren't looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow. You're more than sure he'll have something to say about workplace fraternising and general dawdling. 

"You okay for us to take the van?" he asks. 

Eddie's given you rides home before, and what felt awkward before has lended itself to a familiarity. You nod your agreement and cross the small parking lot out back, your breath rising in the cold night air. 

Eddie pulls open the passenger door of his van with a strong-armed tug. 

"Been meaning to get the latch looked at. I'd rather it have trouble opening than trouble closing, though, so that's a plus." 

He waits for you to climb the short step and sit before he closes the door. 

“All limbs inside the ride?" he asks. 

You laugh. It comes out weird. You kind of sound like you're being held at gunpoint. 

Eddie gets in the van and makes small talk as he starts the engine and pulls her out of the lot. Your mind isn't there, exactly, or rather it's too close. You want to think about your answers but instead you're worrying about how you look while you say them. You're worried about the seat belt around your stomach, and the way you look from the side. Being around Eddie makes you more self-conscious than usual. 

Marletto's isn't the best pizza place in Hawkins but it's open until three AM. You and Eddie take the first empty booth you come across, and the agony of ordering in front of someone else begins. 

"Meat feast for me, obviously," he says, pulling off his jacket. 

The cracked vinyl seat beneath him crunches with his movement. You dedicate yourself to staying still. 

"I'll get a margarita," you say, glancing between him and the menu for his reaction.  

"Didn't take you for such a bore," he teases. "Drinks? Sides?" 

"Just water will be fine." 

"Are you sure? I'm paying. If you wanna take advantage of me, now's the time."

You shake your head, pushing your cold hands under your thighs. 

Eddie frowns. "If you're sure…" 

He gets up to track down the register. You sit there, wondering why you agreed to this, what possessed you, why you could ever think this was a good idea. You don't wanna eat in front of him, you don't know what to say, he's looking at you like everything's normal but this is so not normal, this is the opposite side of the spectrum. 

Eddie returns with your water and a coke, all smiles despite your clear nerves. 

He puts the drinks down and clambers into the seat with a leg folded underneath himself, his elbows halfway across the table. He looks you straight in the face. 

"That guy just looked at me like I was crazy. I'm hungry, sue me. Three orders of mozzarella sticks is a normal human thing to get, right?" 

"Three?" you ask. 

His hand reaches toward you. If your hand were there, he'd likely squeeze it roughly as he sometimes does, like a playful scolding. "I'm hungry," he repeats. "I didn't get any lunch on my lunch break. What's the point in that? Just sat down in the locker room thinking about it. It was actually worse than working." 

"You should've had Leon make you a burger. He's always offering." 

"Always offering you, maybe. The rest of us gotta fend for ourselves." 

"That's not true. He asks Marcie, too." 

"Yeah, well, Leon's a sucker for pretty girls." 

You look down at the table. 

"I got enough fries for both of us, I know you didn't want any sides but everyone wants fries. I won't be sharing the mozzarella sticks, so if you want some you better speak now." He raps the table with his knuckles. When you look up, his face softens. "Well, alright. Maybe I'll share them with you. I'm a sucker, too." 

"What's that mean?" 

"What?" 

"You know what," you say. 

Eddie crosses his arms across the table. His hands and arms are pale, the ink of his black tattoos stark. You could draw them without prompting, that's how often you've fallen into his trap. When he crosses his arms like this, his biceps bulge up a little bit, emphasising the pretty curves and ridges of his arms and the hints of greeny-blue veins hiding under his skin. He tilts his head toward his shoulder, his limp curls dragging against the table. 

"It means…" he says, holding your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips, "that you're pretty. You're so pretty, I'd do anything you asked me to." 

You flinch. You pull your numb hands from under your thighs and cover your stomach with your forearms, glaring at the table between you thoughtlessly. 

"That's cruel." 

"What?" 

"That's cruel, Eddie. You're being mean," you mutter.

"I–" Eddie stammers. "What? I'm just trying to tell you how I think about you– how I feel. I'm sorry if you don't wanna hear it, I'm not trying to be mean." 

Hurt creeps into the lines of your face, your eyebrows pulled down and the starts pulled up, your lips pursed. Heat bursts in your throat as a molten lump takes shape there. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you have to. 

"I thought you were my friend," you say quietly. 

"I want to be more than that." 

"You're making fun of me." 

"No." 

Eddie reaches across the table again. There's nothing for him to grab so he spreads his fingers and presses his palm flat. He ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are ridiculously big, the black of his pupils blown and leaching into his dark irises until they're almost indistinguishable in the fuzzy lighting of the restaurant. 

"Come on," he says quietly, "when have I ever done that to you? I mess around, but I wouldn't say shit like that unless I meant it." His fingers lift off of the table. "I mean it. I think you're beautiful." His voice takes on a raw quality. 

You bite the tip of your tongue, fully frowning now. "I don't believe you," you say. 

"Why not?" he asks, frowning back. 

"Because I'm– I'm– I'm fat." You hate yourself for saying it out loud. 

People hate that word. Usually, if you admit to it, there's a rushed response. No, you're not. Pretty friends talk you down, loved ones wrap an arm around your shoulder and harp about puppy fat or big bones. 

Eddie doesn't do either. He sits back in his seat and smiles hesitantly. 

"Why's that a bad thing?" he asks. He shakes his head at himself. "I mean– I'm sorry, I should've said you aren't, you aren't–" 

"No, I am," you say. 

"You're so pretty," he says again, in a rush. "I don't care what size you are, I really don't. I just think you're beautiful and I wanted to ask you on a real date but I saw you and I couldn't wait anymore." He wraps his hand around the neck of his coke bottles and pulls it towards his chest. "Shit, I've made a huge fucking mess of it." 

You lean forward. Your body doesn't know what to do, the whiplash of hurt smothered by his enthusiastic, sincere compliments.

Why's that a bad thing? means more than anything else he said to you. 

"You really think I'm pretty?" you ask timidly. 

"Drop dead," he says. Hope flickers behind his eyes. "Morgan pulled me aside on my second week, you know that? Said if I didn't stop staring at you he'd put me in the back for the week." 

"He did put you in the back," you say, confused. 

"Exactly." 

Oh. You raise your head properly. Eddie's watching you, just you, obviously waiting for you to speak. The hope on his face is clear as day now, his lips parted, the tiniest peek of his tongue on display. 

"You promise you aren't messing with me?" you ask finally. 

"I promise." He holds his hand out, palm up. "I swear." 

Your heart a hummingbird, you take your hand from your waist and put it carefully in his. His fingers curl around yours like a prince, the tip of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles slowly, half an inch at a time. You exhale out of your nose as goosebumps race up your arm. 

He looks like he has more to say, but the pizza and all his sides arrive. You spring apart like teenagers, blood rushing in your ears. The server unloads his tray.

"Alright guys," he says, looking down at you both with a knowing smile. "Anything else I can get you while I'm here?" 

Eddie sneaks a look at you that holds way too much meaning. "No, I think we're alright." 

There's a tiny, awkward silence. You busy yourself with unfolding a napkin over your lap, not sure what to say to bridge the gap. 

Eddie takes the plunge. 

He slides a basket of mozzarella sticks at you. "Pretty girl privileges," he says.

You feel insecure eating in front of him, but the sheer ferocity of his compliments discourages any shame. He thinks you're pretty. He held your hand like it was made of glass and he got put in Hideout jail for staring. 

"I think you're handsome, too," you say. 

Eddie almost chokes on a handful of fries. "Shit," he says, swallowing roughly, hand thumping at his chest. "Thank god for that. I mean, of course you do. My devilish good looks are hard to resist." 

He's not wrong. 

—

Getting put on kitchen duty isn't half as bad as Morgan seems to think it is. Eddie kind of likes it, the noise, the chaos, the heat. Plus, he can steal fries hot and fresh out of the basket. He's only burned himself once. 

"What're you in for?" Leon asks him.

"Staring." 

"You're a freak, Munson, you know that?" 

Eddie shrugs. "If your girlfriend looked like mine, you'd stare too." 

"Uh-huh." Leon grabs up a spatula to flip a burger, pink meat down and brown side up. Fat sizzles dangerously. Neither man flinches. "She ain't going nowhere." 

"You don't know that. Some rockstar might blaze through here and snap her up. Who would I be to stop her? She should be a trophy wife, she's a stunner." 

"Christ," Marcie says from across the room. 

"How the fuck can you hear us?" Eddie asks. Over the sound of the overhead spray and the sizzle of the burners, Marcie must have superpowers or something. 

"Uh, 'cause you're fucking yelling," she says. 

Eddie looks to Leon for some defence, but Leon agrees. "You are super loud." 

"You would be too–"

"If I had a girlfriend as pretty as yours," Leon says, audibly grouchy. "I know." 

"Don't be jealous that I got there first." 

"How is this fair? You get in trouble and I'm the one punished." 

Eddie blows a big breath out of the corner of his mouth, one of his shorter curls dancing away from his warm face. Ridiculous. They're all awful, and jealous, and nobody wants him to be happy. "Losers," he mumbles. 

He's kidding, mostly. He knows that everyone is actually very happy for the both of you. How could they not be? Eddie's happier than ever and you've turned to mush. It's his favourite thing in the world. 

He thought you were pretty before. These days, you're gold dust incarnate. You see him and smile like you've been waiting for him, no more nervousness (which, he found out, was down to a raging crush on him) (he walked on air for days), no more shying away from his touch. Eddie puts a hand on your shoulder and you don't tense; you melt. Butter in the sun. 

It's glorious. 

And sure, Eddie ends up in the brig a lot. He 'hovers' apparently. So what? He'll say it again, if any of these guys were in his shoes, they'd fall victim to the same compulsion. 

He waits for an opportunity to arise, four dinner tickets and a dishwasher disaster, and sneaks away as silently as he can manage, creeping out of the kitchen and to the bar. You're busy pouring a beer and don't notice him until the customer's left and he's wrapping an arm around your waist. 

"Eddie," you scold lightly, leaning forward to accommodate his weight against your back, "come on. You might actually lose your job." 

"They can't fire me. I'm the best bus boy ever." 

You turn your face to look at him. Eddie wants to put you on TV, you look that sweet. 

"No, you're awful, you," —Eddie interrupts you, leaning down for a quick chaste kiss— "distract me, and you," —he steals a second— "don't actually bus tables when you should," you finish, disjointed. 

He brings his hand to your soft cheek, stroking a badly behaved baby hair back into place. You go lax like he's some kind of quick fix drug, and your eyes contain a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He covers his heart with his hand. 

"You're awful," you murmur. 

He takes your face into both hands slowly. One cups your cheek, and the other slides behind your ear. He pulls your face forward and down toward his chin, his lips by your ear. You smell amazing. His eyes close on instinct.

"A little. It's not my fault. You're just–" 

"So pretty?" you ask. "Yeah, you've told me." 

"I have, have I? Have to let me tell you again." He kisses the skin before your ear, more a press of his lips than anything. "You're beautiful," he mouths. 

You shiver, but ultimately end up planting your hands against his chest and ushering him away from you. 

"Stop it. I mean it! We're in public, at work, and you're gonna mess me up." 

"I want to mess you up," he says easily. 

"I know you do." 

Eddie sighs, agonised, but heeds your warning. "Alright," he says, squeezing your shoulder in goodbye. You smile and squeeze his elbow in return. It's your new thing, silent conversation in fond touches. 

He's a couple of feet away when the urge to turn back is too much. He jogs back to your side, gets his hand behind your neck, and kisses you with enough pressure that your lips part underneath his in shock. He adores the side of your neck with his thumb one sweeping stroke at a time, his nose digging sliding against yours as he inches in further, and further. The dizzy pleasure of your lips can't be understated. Eddie fights back a kiss-ruining smile with all he's worth. 

"Sorry," he says, pulling back. Your lips shine and you blink, dazed. "Sorry," he says again, leaning in to kiss them dry. 

You laugh quietly, a breath against his cheek, and he's a goner, dropping pecks all over your pretty face until you're giggling and sinking into his arms. 

"I really am sorry." He punctuates with a kiss under your jaw. 

"No," you say breathlessly. Your hand twines loosely in his hair. "You're not." 

No, he isn't. He's never felt less sorry for anything in his life. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider reblogging, it helps more than you know!! <3 

[opiopal]

imagine just a regular human OM au,

as in like, no angels, no demons, no magic, none of that whatsoever, everyone is just their character trope but in a regular kinda sitcomy romance

RAD is just a fancy private school, Dia is like, the rich principals son who’s also like class president, and Luci is vice, snd luci made all his brothers join student council because he wanted them all to have at least one activity that would look good on a resume for them, mams is still known for being scummy, Levi is rarely seen at school cause he’s a shut in nerd, Asmo is super popular, ect. Ect. Literally it’s just them but… human. and mc showing up is just like, they qualified for this program and didn’t really know it(bc public schools suck at communication dog), and so they are suddenly told they’re gonna be flown halfway across the world for this, and the rest is history.

now, you guys are probably thinking, “Opi, you basically just said imagine OM but without the thing that makes it OM” and to that I say,

Yah lol,

BUT LISTEN!

it has potential to be cute, like, instead of big cool pact marks, it’s just the brothers who like mc doodling on their arms in pen when they’re bored, like they all do it and don’t really know why, but mc lets them so they do it. or like, mc is just given an item to signify that they gained that brothers friendship, like a bracelet, painted nails, a keychain, hairclip, a book, literally anything at all.

So maybe mc and mams becoming friends would have to be more of a hostage situation rather then an exchange??? Like, instead of “if I give you your credit card you gotta make a pact with me,” it’s “if you don’t give your brother his toy back I’ll cut your card,” and somehow it turned into mams hanging around mc more often, maybe he liked them being mean or something lol, we know how he is.

also, maybe this would make the brothers whole situation sadder?? Since it would practically be a highschool au, they’d all have to be like 16-19, so would this mean they got kicked out of their home after the death of their sister? Maybe their father, while in grief, decided to blame the seven of them for encouraging her? Maybe she got attacked/mugged, or got into a car crash with her bf? Obviously this work leave zero room for mc and her being related in a sense(maybe they had been friends in the past?) so the brothers beginning to like mc more would have to happen more organically instead of being pushed further along with the Lilith plot point.

Thought moving onto the other characters, Solomon is probably just a weirdo that’s into scifi stuff, and believes in a bunch of stuff(maybe ghosts are still real or something? So he gives mc things to ward off evil spirits as gifts) he’s probably still a student as well, but has back problems or something so everyone calls him old. Thirteen prolly just skips class whenever she feels like it(which is prolly always) so she’s rarely seen/isn’t seen until later into the series, but whenever she’s around she’s like, that one super cool side character that you want to hang out with but luci doesn’t allow it because he worries that she smokes behind the school or something wild like that. Mephisto I feel like would be that one kid you rarely see because he’s in all the honors and honors college classes, so unless you also get into one there’s a rare chance of seeing him around the school, though when you bump into him, he’s so weirdly passive aggressive, like sorry for breathing wrong I guess???? (He would totally get into a fight for someone stepping on his designer shoes) I could also imagine him pulling the whole “my father will hear of this!!” Crap. Though eventually he’d warm up and be pretty nice! Though wouldn’t wanna show it often in public, but he just might, only for mc of course. Raphael simeon and Luke are most likely those close family friends that you legit forget aren’t actually family because they’re so insanely close, and I can imagine they’re basically the same, though maybe luke isn’t a little speciest. Luke is most likely either just like, a 6th grader that is around sometimes, or is in a higher grade cause he was moved up. Simeon is on ao3, and TOL is totally an on going story he wrote in like the 5th grade and just kept it going because he realized people really really liked it. Levi is probably just one of those WEEEIRRDOOS who got the fics printed out into book format to keep physical copies of lol, rapheal.. I don’t know him very well, though I feel as if he’d be one of those like, eerily quiet kids, not like “the quiet kid” just.. he’s quiet, but you chat with him and he’s a bit of a nerd, not a raging one, but a chill one, and he likes his hedgehog, I could see him carrying a photo of his hedgehog around to show people.

now here’s the gag guys..

barbatos is the exact same, like there is nothing with him that seems different at all, he’s odd, he shows up randomly, he’s very attentive, and has his strong hate/fear of rodents. no one knows if he actually has any classes of his own because he just follows dia around all day long,

but yea, also no I’m not running out of ideas gang lol, this is just one of my many many OM AU’s I think about often, and I guess I’m just in a domestic mood today lol

[canirove]

Pedri Imagine

Author’s note: This is a request I got on Wattpad, something sweet and cute after he got injured at the Euros. Hope you like it and thank you for reading! 💜

Masterlist

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Are you feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah” Pedri says over facetime. “I'm sorry about earlier, tho.”

“Uh?”

“When I kept ignoring your calls and texted you that I wanted to be left alone. I was kind of rude.”

“Pedri, you had just left the game with an injury that meant that the tournament was over for you. It is normal to be angry and frustrated and to want to be left alone.”

“Yes, but… I don't know” he shrugs. “I feel like I was a bit rude with you. With the person who is always there for me on the good and bad days.”

“It's ok” I smile. “But urgh, don't remind me of how much it sucks that I am stuck here with work and that I've only gotten to watch you play once. I should be there taking care of you, not about to start a 24 hour shift at the hospital.”

“I miss you too. But I'm fine, I'm taken care of. Your patients need you a lot more than I do” he says.

“You are being taken care of by who? Nurse Ferran?” I chuckle.

“Among others. Unai has been offering to carry me around.”

“Lucky bitch” I whisper.

“What?” Pedri laughs.

“Nothing.”

“I heard you. Who is a lucky bitch, me because I get to be carried around by Unai, or him because he gets to carry me?” he smirks.

“What do you think, Pedri?”

“Him, obviously. Carrying me is an honour.”

“What are you now? A prince?” I laugh.

“A king, actually. King of your heart” he winks, making me laugh again.

“I'm glad you are making jokes, tho. That means you are feeling a bit better.”

“I'm not joking. I am the king of your heart.”

“Of course you are” I smile. “Have they told you when are you coming back?”

“Actually…” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I'm not.”

“What?”

“They are allowing me to stay with the team and start my recovery here.”

“Oh, that's… that's really nice of them.”

“It is. See how De La Fuente isn't that bad?” he says with a teasing smile.

“Yeah, whatever” I reply. “But if you are staying…”

“We won't be seeing each other in person until they've made me champion of Europe. Which they will.”

“I see…”

“Aren't you happy about it?”

“Of course I am, Pedri. Seeing you this positive after what happened makes me really happy. Relieved too. But I just… I just wished I could get to at least see you once before you come back. Get to enjoy the atmosphere of the Euros together and not just through a screen.”

“Me too… But this isn't my last Euros or international tournament. There will be more in the future, and we will experience them together. I promise you.”

“Ok” I say, forcing myself to smile. “Anyway, I gotta go. My shift is about to start and I need to finish getting ready. Can I leave you in the hands of nurse Ferran and nurse Unai?”

“You can” he chuckles. “But what about you?”

“Uh? What do you mean?”

“Are you ok? You looked a bit gutted after I told you I'm staying in Germany.”

“I'm fine, Pedri. Don't worry. I'll call you tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok. Go be a superhero” he smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too” I smile back before hanging up.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

A few days later…

“They are very optimistic about the injury. They say that if I work hard during the summer, I'll be back sooner than I think” Pedri says.

“Yeah, well. Let's not rush things.”

“Oh, hello!” Ferran says, showing up on the screen next to Pedri.

“Hello” I smile. 

“How are things in Barcelona?” he asks me.

“Same as always. Over there I've been told you've been so good at your job as a nurse that you may steal mine.”

“Yeah… But I don't think there will be a second time. I don't know how you can deal with him, Pedri is the worst patient ever.”

“Hey!” Pedri complains, giving Ferran a little push and only managing to make him laugh.

“It's the truth, bro” he shrugs. “Anyway, have you shared the news yet?”

“The news? What news?” I say.

“I… ummm…” Pedri says, nervously touching his face. “I've got a surprise for you.”

“Ok…”

“It's a good surprise, of course. It doesn't have to do with my injury or anything.”

“Pedri, c'mon!” Ferran urges him.

“Yes, ummm… I got you a ticket for the final.”

“You what?” I say.

“I made some calls, and you are gonna be free for a couple of days, which means that you can come watch the Euros final with me and my family.”

“Pedri, that's… how… I mean…”

“Someone is speechless” Ferran chuckles.

“But how… How did you manage to do this?” 

“Perks of being Pedri González” he shrugs. 

“I… I don't know what to say, I…”

“See? Speechless?” Ferran says again.

“Just say yes. Say that you are coming to watch them make me champion of Europe and then celebrate with us” Pedri says.

“I… Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Pedri. I'm going to Germany” I smile.

“Thank God” he sighs. “I thought you were going to say no.”

“And miss the chance of being carried around by Unai while celebrating that Spain has won the Euros? No way” I say with a teasing smile. 

“What?” Ferran says with a confused look.

“Inside joke” Pedri says. “Will I see you in a couple of days, then?”

“You will. Germany, here I come!”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“See? I told you the will make me champion of Europe!” Pedri says, limping towards me.

“They did, yes” I laugh. “But please be careful” I say, nodding towards his knee.

“I'm fine, don't worry” he smiles as he reaches me. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“It was the best. I still can't believe I'm here, to be honest.”

“You're welcome” he says, still smiling. “Now, before the boys come kidnap me again… Can I get my first kiss as champion of Europe?” he smirks.

“You can. But” I say, stopping him as he wraps his arms around me. “First I need to say something.”

“Yes, Unai will carry you somewhere if that's what you want.”

“What?” I laugh. “I mean, I do want a photo with him later. And maybe we could take it while he is carrying me… But that's not what I wanted to say.”

“Then?”

“I wanted to say that I am so proud of you, Pedri. And not only because of that medal around your neck. I am really proud of you because of everything you've done during this tournament even if you didn't manage to finish it on the pitch, and especially because of how positive and strong you've been. Not many people are capable of doing that after what happened to you, you know?”

“Yeah, well” he says with a shy smile.

“I love you, Pedri.”

“And I love you too. Can I get that kiss now?”

“Yes, you can” I laugh before kissing him.

[juuuulez]

🎧 | agora hills, carmen berzatto.

somethin' different about you / love it when he hit and smack too / baby, lemme lick on your tattoos / that’s true that i like PDA / take it to a seedy place / suck a little dick in the bathroom.

NSFW, blowjobs, semi-public sex, cum stuff.

request a playlist roulette here!

It had been innocent enough. You’d suggested a bar you regular at, managing to drag about half the kitchen staff down. Beers were shared, maybe you had a few too many shots, but what the hell, who’s counting?

“Hey, hey,” Carmen whispers, shooting a panicked look over at the door. “They’re gonna realise. Someone’s gonna come in.”

He’s utterly freaked out as your nails scrape under his shirt, pushing the white fabric up and up and up. You get it high enough, before replacing fingers with teeth, leaning in to nip playfully at his exposed chest.

“Locked.” You mumble into his warm skin, pressing a few kisses into his chest before flattening your tongue, dragging it over the smooth surface of his pecs.

It earns a grunt in response, Carmen’s gaze still focused on the bathroom door. Outside, it was bustling, and it’ll be sooner rather than later that another patron needs to pee, and management discovers someone’s hijacked their bathroom.

But Carmen can’t help himself, a bitter taste on his tongue thinking back to the bar’s interior. Not the bar, the guys. You were a regular here, right? So, you had to know, how they all eyed you like a piece of meat.

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.” He mumbles, words tinged with something alike to jealousy, slightly condescending and definitely petty.

You bite sharply down at his chest, which earns a wince in response. Carmen’s hand moves up, clasping at the back of your head, trying to pry you from his sensitive skin. It works, for you move away, only to drop to your knees.

“Men are so goddamn weird,” You huff out, complaining mindlessly while your fingers work at his belt. It reduces Carmen to a nervous mess, his face fluctuating between the locked door, and you. “You don’t gotta be all anxious about other guys. I’m very happily taken.”

“Yeah but—” His voice tapers off into a sharp inhale, as you tug his cock from those old jeans. “They don’t know that.”

There’s more he wants to say, but it doesn’t come out, doesn’t even form in his mind. Carmen’s focus dissolves, forgetting all about the door, all about the bar, their friends. Your hand is soft as it wraps around his length, gentle caresses that have him quickly hardening, as if the sight of you down there didn’t do it already.

You move forward, licking a long stripe up the length of him, tracing a swollen vein. It ends at his tip, which you’re quick to wrap your lips around, mouth hollow as you mumble your reply through a mouthful of dick: “Then I gotta show them, huh?”

It’s filthy and Carmen is absolutely fucking done for. His hands grip the counter so hard his knuckles are white, panting and groaning above you while you suck him off, wet and messy, just the way he likes it. Spit is collecting in your mouth and dribbling past your lips, running down his shaft and collecting at the zipper of his jeans.

You’re quick about it, slick noises filling the space, hollowing your cheeks just right and paying extra attention to his reddened tip. “Please— fuck, please, can I?” Carmen doesn’t even get the question out, because you know exactly what he means, and you’re nodding as well as you can with him stuffed down your throat.

His hands move to your head, gripping handfuls of your hair and pulling you further onto him. Air forgoes you in favour of pulling each wrecked noise from your boyfriend, Carmen’s legs trembling with the pressure of an orgasm that builds and builds until he’s cumming hot strings down your throat. It’s salty and fills the cavity of your mouth, but you pull off a second before he’s finished spilling his load, fisting his cock and letting the few last drops land on your lips.

And Carmen is still panting, hair stuck to his forehead, unable to catch his breath as he watches you: using his dick to smear the cum over your lips, almost like putting on lipgloss, letting it seep into the cracks and crevices.

Words fail him as you hoist yourself to your feet, knees a little sore, feet a little numb, but ultimately uncaring. You bend over the sink next to him, pressing an exaggerated and firm kiss onto the bathroom mirror. The imprint it leaves behind is clear as day: a milky cum stain in the shape of your lips. You stare at it proudly, turning to grin back at Carmen, whose cock is hardening once more at the sight.

“Think that’s good enough?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Walter hale 50 covering their mouth to shut them up. 😏

Hungry

A/N: Well this was fun. Any excuse to get dirty with Walter.

Pairing: Walter Hale x reader

Word count: Just a smidge over 1K

TWs: This is a smutfest. Walter is a soft dom, praise kink and some really dirty stuff with panties. Maybe the tiniest hint of orgasm denial.

You're the piano lady at the Chautauqua - you do all the accompaniment for the children’s singing during the daytime. You have no idea what Walter sees in you, when he has his pick of all the singers and dancers in every town. Not that you're under any illusion that you're the only woman he's sleeping with, that would be ridiculous. But he has been spending a lot of time with you lately. You run your fingers over the piano keys, doing a few scales absent-mindedly as you wait for the next kid. It's almost lunchtime. You can't wait for a break from this. 

Walter wanders into the tent where you're playing, eyes roving until they finally land on your figure, sitting behind the piano, just as he expected. He likes you a lot. You've got a little extra padding, in that kind of mid-thirties way, and he’s really been enjoying the effect it has on you. There’s a point that women hit at that age where they stop caring about what other people think of them and start caring about having a good time instead. He can’t understand why you haven’t been snapped up by someone already, but then maybe you’d never have got to this stage. You love sex, and he loves doing it with you.

He stands at the side of the stage until someone shouts something about lunch, and then you feel his presence behind you. 

“Hungry, honey?”

You somehow find yourselves in a walk-in linen closet, which would be spacious if it wasn’t for the shelves of linen, you and Walter all being in there. The shelves dig into your back and Walter, pressed against you, digs into your front. Your arms are around his neck and he’s kissing you passionately, grinding against you just a little. You let out a little pleasured noise as he moves from your mouth to your neck. 

“Still hungry?” He asks, with a raised eyebrow and a smile playing on his lips. 

You don’t need to be asked twice, nodding and getting onto your knees as best you can in the cramped space. Freeing his dick from the confines of his pants, you set to work licking and sucking, and he bites his fist to stay quiet. It’s hard not to make a noise when you’re so good at this, but he doesn’t want to be found. Eventually he decides you’re getting him dangerously close with your mouth and he wants to finish somewhere else. He taps your cheek and you let him slide out again, and stand up, obediently. He pulls your long skirt up around your waist and your panties to one side, and then he’s inside you in one quick movement. Grunting, his cheek pressed against yours as he rolls his hips into you again and again. 

“Oh, Walter! It feels so good.” You can’t help yourself, something just makes you want to tell him how his dick makes you feel. How much you love it. 

He moves his head just enough so you can see the smirk spreading across his face. 

“Is that so, honey?”

You nod quickly, and then the moaning starts. You don’t mean to moan, but every time he fucks you it drives you crazy and the noises just pour out of you. He’s still smirking, because he can’t help loving hearing you like this, but he starts to shake his head just a little too. 

“Uh-uh. You’ve gotta be quiet, honey.”

“Mmmm. I… I c-can’t…” you stumble over the words, brain feeling like mush. “...’s too good…”

He’s still slowly rolling himself into you, and he shakes his head a little more as he presses his hand over your mouth. 

“Gotta be quiet,” he says again, and then he starts to really fuck you. 

Your eyes roll back in your head as he thrusts harder and faster, his fingers pressing against your soft lips, fingertips digging into your cheek. 

“Good girl,” he mumbles, knowing he’s getting close and thinking you probably are too. But he doesn’t want you squeezing him and tipping him over the edge right now. 

Keeping his hand over your mouth, he slows down and pulls out, and you stare at him in gasping surprise. Not that it’s very easy to gasp with your mouth clamped shut, a snort of air rushing out of your nose instead. 

“Shhh,” he reiterates, before moving his hand. He needs both of them for this. 

Jerking himself with one hand, he pulls the top of your panties down with the other and rubs his dick through your folds, struggling to hold back a moan as he feels his release growing closer and closer. You look down at what he’s doing, dazed, and gasp as he cums all over your pussy and in your panties, making a mess in your underwear. Putting your own hand over your mouth instinctively, you watch as he moves back, letting your skirt fall back down to hide what he’s just done. Taking a few steadying breaths, he puts himself away again and then looks at you. You’re completely dumbfounded, and really, really horny. 

The smirk is back when he sees the look on your face. He puts his hand back over your mouth, and his lips to your ear. 

“Want ya to sit and think about me for the rest of the day now, honey.”

You groan into his palm. As if you were going to do anything else after that. 

“Then tonight I might give ya what ya want.”

He moves his hand and looks at you. 

“Yes, Walter,” you breathe. 

Another little smirk. “But no takin’ those panties off. Want you in ‘em all day.”

You accidentally moan out loud again and he tuts, clamping his hand back over your mouth. 

“What did I tell ya? Shhh.” He softens then, smiling down at you. “Not that I don’t love those pretty little noises of yours. But save them for tonight, hm?”

“Yes, Mr Hale,” you tell him, when he moves his hand again. 

He hums approvingly. “Good girl. And keep those panties on. I’ll be checking.”

***

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[qhazomb]

so some recent art by @we-cool-beans reminded me of this one "sharing a body" au i've thought about.

i've talked about my other one where it takes place post-canon, with the temporary body-sharing happening in order to save gordon from a life-threatening disease he developed (likely from all that radioactive raw sewage...), but this is one that takes place during canon.

(this is using my headcanon that benry's true form is just a big glowing cloud of rainbow cosmic energy containing a consciousness).

after gordon's hand gets chopped off, and then benry realizes humans cannot in fact regrow limbs, he's not exactly jazzed over the fact that he got gordon perma-fucked up. he's also not a big fan of the fact that he can't un-fuck him up. benry doesn't know how to make someone else's body regrow limbs, just the body that he's in!

....so then he gets the idea "oh i'll just pop into gordon's body to fix it, then."

so benry abandons his own body somewhere (not important, he can just make a new one later), and slips into gordon's when everybody's asleep. when he gets there, he originally intended on just fixing gordon's hand and then leaving, but holy shit this guy is a LOT more beat up than benry thought. this hev suit's kinda sucks at being armor, huh. there's new wounds that are looking pretty rough, and benry also notes evidence of old injuries that don't look like they healed the way they're supposed to. he's got a looooot of work to do.

when the science team all wake up, they're all extremely surprised to see that gordon is no longer down a hand. the others of course make light of it, but gordon himself is feeling a weird mix of relief and what the fuck over the fact that he just... regrew a limb. like a fucking lizard or something. the rest of the team try coming up with theories on why this happened- "Perhaps the hazardous materials you've been swimming in have given you mutant powers!" "Are you sure you're actually human?" "Maybe Black Mesa's been secretly experimenting on you without you knowing it."

gordon of course does not like any of these theories.

at one point gordon gets a cut on his hand, an sees that his blood is a LOT darker than it should be, which freaks him out further. and then, again, when that cut heals up pretty much right before his eyes, he's not sure if he should be thankful or freaking the fuck out over it.

gordon also doesn't like the fact that benry's been missing again for A While, which normally he'd be thankful for, but given the current circumstances, it's putting him extra on edge.

gordon finally finds out both why he has a hand again and where benry went when he has a big emotional outburst... that's accompanied by sweet voice.

"I didn't know you could use the Black Mesa Sweet Voice, Gordon!"

gordon insists that he can't, and his panic is rising as more coloured orbs spill from his mouth (which tommy comfirms means gordon is panicking. bubby makes a comment like "Yeah, we can tell.")

it's then that benry, who has been just been staying quiet the whole time, finally speaks up in gordon's mind. "hey, calm down maybe?"

obviously this just freaks gordon out even more, albiet in a different way.

when gordon says he can hear benry in his fucking head, there's definitely some jokes in there from the team about gordon hearing voices now/being haunted again, pff.

eventually benry's able to explain himself (the best he can, at least). he's in here because gordon couldn't heal that good on his own, and benry couldn't heal him without being in here. and he's staying here because gordon's weak lil baby human body is just SO easy to break, like damn, so benry's gotta stick around to make sure it stays put together. he's the maintenance man, now.

gordon of course HIGHLY objects to this, but it's not like he can force this weird cosmic energy being out of his body.

(and though he's not saying it out loud, he does appreciate how all his usual aches and pains have been completely gone ever since benry started this "maintenance" work.)

gordon does at least get benry to agree to get the fuck out of him once they're all out of black mesa, though.

and then through the rest of their journey, understandings happen, and bonding happens. i've imagined one point where gordon is feeling Overwhelmed with Emotions and having a bad time because of it, when benry tells him to just, sing it all out with sweet voice. gordon begrudingly does so, and then... actually does feel better afterwords. turns out sweet voice is a really good way to get Big Feelings out. huh.

now the thing that we-cool-bean's art specifically reminded me of, is when they get to xen. benry obviously isn't here to be the big bad final boss, thus the nihilanth is still kickin' around, and proving to be just as dangerous as xenrey. during the fight, benry gives gordon a lil power-up: RAINBOW DEATH MODE

(gordon doesn't get freaky shape-shifting like benry does when in RAINBOW DEATH MODE, he just gets glowy. there's extra orange in there as that's gordon's life energy colour signature!)

i picture gordon getting to land the final blow on the nihilanth, managing to get up on its head, prying open that noggin' to expose the crystal... but then being unsure what to do next.

benry yells in his mind "song of death at it!"

"How do I do that!?"

"just think about how much you wanna kill this guy and SING!"

the 'singing' that comes out of gordon's mouth sounds less like the angelic theramin notes benry sings, and more like death metal screaming, but hey it gets the job done all the same!

in the end, even after benry's vacated the freeman, it soon becomes aparent that gordon is... not entirely human anymore. having benry spend so much time hanging out within him, and then giving that RAINBOW DEATH MODE boost at the end fully cemented gordon's own connection to the cosmic ether, which is what sustains benry. now it's sustaining gordon, too.

...aaaand gordon's gonna need some lessons on how to keep from spitting out sweet voice when he gets a bit too emotional while in public :B

[starry-hughes]

secret santa (jack hughes)

day 17 of star’s ficmas

jack hughes x reader

Jack Hughes tolerated you. He didn’t like you, he didn’t hate you, he tolerated you. You worked in the Devils organization, working as an analyst behind the scenes, meaning you were always around. You’d be in your office, analyzing the game from the night before or practice.

You weren’t exactly sure why Jack didn’t like you. Maybe you made too many suggestions to his game or got him in trouble which forced him to work on faceoffs more. You got along pretty well with everyone else, why not him?

The Secret Santa Tradition was always fun, you looked forward to it every year. You’d appreciate any gift really, no matter how big or small it was. You had pulled Jack. You were excited, hoping this was the chance for Jack to like you. You had given him the gift early, leaving it in his stall, half of the items on his list were bought. But, now it was the last day of the Secret Santa and you tried not to be sad that you hadn’t received your gift.

Jack had drawn your name. He was hoping for one of the other boys, but he got you. He knew who you were. Jack walked by your office every day, seeing you hunched over your laptop, sometimes he’d see you by the bench, or in team meetings. You were smart and he knew it. He actually thought you were really smart and pretty, but he had made a bad impression on you.

He didn’t know what to get you, staring your list of items you suggested, looking at what you like. He wished he didn’t participate. He saw your office decorated for Christmas and could just assume you liked the holiday. Jack picked the smallest item from the list.

The present was thrown into a gift bag and left on your desk. You saw your coworkers getting big gifts and nice things, and the keychain you asked for stared back at you. You blamed yourself for even putting the item on the list but you didn’t want to seem like you were expecting a big gift.

“Dude, my Secret Santa got me this nice blanket,” Erik said. “I got mine a keychain.”

Jack suddenly had the whole locker room staring at him. “You got them just a keychain?” Dawson asked. “It was on their list!”

“Who’d you even gift?” John asked. “(Y/N).”

“You’re a dick,” Nico scoffed. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What did I do?” Jack questioned. “What did your Secret Santa get you?” Luke asked him. “Like four things off my list…”

At the end of the day, you shoved your stuff into your bag. It was hard to not be upset over the small keychain you were given. But you had tried so hard to be in the holiday spirit, buying everyone hot chocolate, decorating your office, offering to do extra work so other people could spend time with their families. And you got a keychain.

You began the walk to your car, when you were stopped by Jack. “Hey, (Y/N), you got a second?” Jack was just going to apologize, make amends. “I was your Secret Santa, and it was a bad gift I guess,” Jack confessed. The guys had all convinced him to apologize. “It’s fine Jack. I put the keychain on the list, I didn’t want anyone to be forced to buy me something special, I appreciate it,” you blurted. Jack frowned, “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged. “I just,” you sucked in a breath, “I don’t know if I did something to upset you or anything, I put the keychain on my list, I got what I asked for I guess.” Jack felt bad.

“I gotta go Jack. By the way, I hope you liked all your gifts. Surprise, I was your Secret Santa,” you sighed before walking away.

Jack felt like a dick. He remembered how excited he was for getting his own gift, knowing how much his teammates spent on the gift game, he was an absolute jerk. You deserved more than that.

The next day, your office was empty and Jack had brought a bunch of gifts and left them on your desk. The day after that, you were out again. He was thinking it was because of him until you walked in on the third day. Jack finally didn’t have to throw away the extra coffee he bought. “(Y/N), here,” he greeted. “What’s this for?” you whispered. “I’m trying to make it up to you?”

“It’s fine, it was just Secret Santa. Your gift to me is useful, I haven't lost my keys in two days,” you joked. You went to open your office door. Your eyes landed on all the presents. “Jack, I didn’t need these. I’m okay.”

“A date then. To make it up.”

You looked at him, “Really? A date, just to make it up?”

“I don’t hate you, I just don’t know how to act around you. I want to impress you. I’m sorry. Just one date, a Christmas present?”

[lnfours]

Helloooo prompt (maybe reverse) "i pictured you with other girls in love... then threw up on the street." With Lando x reader (she is a legal expert for McLaren) having a fight because he underestimate her job. So during a social event, after seeing her smiling and talking with Charles about her work activities, he gets jealous and afraid of losing her.

god anon, thanks for killing me! tom’s-gf has been found dead!!

this also got so long omg i’m sorry

10k celebration

lando felt sick. physically ill, almost like he was going to throw up.

“you okay, mate?” oscar asked his teammate and friend, worry etching his face. lando was unaware of his paleness, his eyes visibly sad as he looked over towards where you were standing with charles.

he had his arm wrapped around your waist, head leaning down towards your face so he could hear what you were talking to him about. you had a bright smile on your face and he could tell you said something funny with the way his friend’s eyes squeezed shut, both of your giggles almost loud enough to be heard over the noise.

“lando?”

his attention flipped back to the aussie next to him, shaking his head and furrowing his eyebrows as he desperately tried to fight off the nauseating thoughts of you and his friend that snuck into his head. anxiety was a fucking bitch.

“yeah, i’m good. why?”

“you look pale,” oscar stated, “and you keep looking at y/n and charles with this weird look in your eyes, almost like you’re sad.”

lando shook his head, swallowing the sip of his drink, “nah, i’m good, mate,”

oscar quirked an eyebrow, “did something happen between the two of you?”

lando immediately was transported back to the hotel mentally, where a little over an hour ago the two of you had it out. he was frustrated, and he took it out on you, which he shouldn’t have done. and one thing led to another…

“seriously, lando, i don’t fucking tell you how to drive the car! why’re you trying to tell me how to do my job?!”

“i’m just saying that maybe you should try getting behind the wheel of a literal rocket before you complain about your job to me.”

he didn’t mean to sound like he was underestimating you or your job, he knew you worked hard for the company. he knew how many late nights you had pulled at the office to get extra work done and to stay ahead of things. he wasn’t entirely sure why he said what he said, but now he was really wishing time travel was real so he could go back and undo it.

lando’s silence was an answer, “mate, just go talk to her. i’m sure she’s over it by now, whatever it is. you know her, she doesn’t stay angry for long.”

oscar was right. you got over things quickly, only really needing twenty minutes before you moved onto the next thing. but right now, the anxiety was eating at him as he watched charles lean in closer to you for a photo. he just had this overwhelming feeling that you hated him and that this was it. it was the end of the road for the two of you.

oscar grabbed the glass from his teammate before shoving him forward, “my god, go!”

lando compiled, shoving his hands in his pockets as he concentrated on not letting his legs give out as he walked towards you two. your eyes landed on the worried looking brit, your eyebrows furrowing. your confused look caused charles to turn around.

“hey, mate,” charles said, “you’ve gotta hear about this story y/n just told me-“

“actually,” lando cleared his throat, “i was wondering if i could borrow her. i’ve got to talk to her,”

he sucked in a nervous breath as you responded, “yeah,” you grabbed your purse off of the bar behind you, looking over at the man next to you, “i’ll be right back.”

you led lando through the groups of people, the fresh air filling lando’s lungs as he desperately tried to feel better. you stood in front of him, searching his eyes.

“you look pale,” you frowned, placing the back of your hand on his forehead, “you feeling okay?”

his heart was going a mile a minute, his hand grabbing yours. your eyes met his in silent question, “i’m sorry.”

your expression softened, “lando-“

“no,” he said softly, “i’m sorry. i know how hard you work, and i had no right to yell at you or tell you that your job isn’t hard. i could never do the things that you do. you’re absolutely incredible and i’m sorry,”

you let him ramble on, waiting for the right time to speak, “you never complain and it was dick move for me to yell, just please…”

he felt like he couldn’t breathe. you frowned, knowing what was going through his mind all too well. a small tear dropped from his eyelashes and your heart shattered in your chest, “lando,”

he licked his lips, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. his shoulders shook and you reached out to him as he let out a quiet sob. you wiped the tears away from his cheeks before wrapping your arms around his neck. he breathed in the smell of your shampoo, immediately clinging to you as he buried his head into your hair.

you rubbed his back, “it’s okay. i promise, it’s okay,”

he sniffled softly, “you’re just the best thing to ever happen to me, and i don’t want to lose you over a stupid argument. i’m sorry. so so sorry,”

you pulled away, meeting his glossy eyes and giving him a soft smile as you wiped away the fallen tears, “it’s gonna take a lot more than a silly argument to push me away.”

he let out a soft chuckle and you smiled, “there’s that smile.”

he rolled his eyes playfully, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, mumbling a soft, “shut up,”

you reached up and planted a kiss on his lips. his mumbling against yours when he pulled away to breathe, “i love you.”

“i love you more, handsome.”

[preeningpisces]

Sukuna NSFW Headcanons

Lemme know if you want me to elaborate or write something about any of these ♥️

18+ content below, mdni, implied chubby f!reader, dark content

TW: implied non-con, mentions of death, Sukuna is not nice!!!

♛ Boy oh boy. Mr. Monsterfucker wet dream himself

♛ For starters, make no mistake: Sukuna gives absolutely zero fucks about your pleasure. You’re there solely to please him, and it makes no difference whether you enjoy it or not

♛ Knows where the clit is, he just doesn’t give a fuck lmfao

♛ I think one thing that would make him actually intelltionally please you--which is very rare, but happens on occasion when he's in a good mood---is sounds. If you make sounds of pleasure he likes, he’ll try to get more out of you. Again, not for your benefit. It's purely because it brings him some satisfaction. It’s the same with sounds of pain tho, oof

♛ Not very noisy, but doesn’t stifle any sounds either. Definitely a grunter. Talkativeness depends on his mood

♛ I definitely agree with the notion that he’d have concubines. As we know him now, I can’t imagine him falling for anyone or being loyal

♛ With that in mind, Sukuna doesn’t really have a type. His concubines all look very different. Yuki asks Sukuna what his type is and he just says pussy

♛ One thing he appreciates about you is how your soft body fills his hands. With him being humongous, having someone larger just feels more comfortable. Sometimes he just wants that vava-voom if you know what I mean. Also enjoys how your thighs feel when you're riding him--their softness rippling against his muscles

♛ That’s not to say Sukuna doesn’t have preferences, I just don’t think they’d be consistent, or that he’d care enough to pick up on a pattern. He just sees someone & knows ‘I’d stick my dick in them’ or ‘Uraume feed me this ugly hoe’

♛ OF COURSE he has a double-decker dick!! The one on the bottom is more sensitive. He likes having one of his concubines riding the top one, and another sucking his cock and balls

♛ His cum shoots--it gets airtime. Think that scene in Devilman Crybaby

♛ Without a doubt a sadist, in every way. Making you cry, making you bleed, & hurting you all get him going. Big on dacryphilia, and degratation

♛ Absolutely nooooot going to be submissive. Nope no way, especially not to some lowly human or sorcerer such as yourself. He’d have to see you as an equal, and even then, I’m not sure he would

♛ Not submissive but lowkey a pillow princess LMFAO you gotta do all the work. He just lazes while you suck him off or ride him

♛ When he’s in the mood he treats you like a fleshlight. If he legitimately railed you, it would do permanent damage. Mfer is 8ft tall—if he were to actually pound you with vigor you’d DIE. In fact, he probably does that when he doesn’t care to keep someone….yikes let’s not think about that

♛ Honestly I don’t imagine he’s that freaky or kinky. Really just wants to blow his load in (or on) someone pretty & that’s about it

♛ The freakiest thing he does is use his tummy tongue—largely because it frightens you & his other concubines bc, yknow, he could legit eat you. Also, he just wants to eat some pussy every now & then, and there’s no way he would lower his head or kneel for anyone

♛ He eats pussy for his own pleasure, not yours, but that tongue is so big and slippery you usually cum anyway. Doesn’t stop until he’s had his fill

[eepwriting]

hello hello I'm dropping by with another request to my favourite blog!

could we please get iii x reader where the reader is a brat and has been teasing him to high hell for a while so he decides to return the favour with rough cnc/dubcon sex + lots of degradation and praise and all that good stuff just leaving the reader a sobbing overstimulated fucked out mess (+ maybe blood play if you're feeling it 👀)

craving that commanding, aggressive and frustrated iii

Love,

thigh anon

What Did You Expect? ✶ III x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, hints of dubcon, degradation, spanking, light slapping, biting, intercourse, oral, overstim, mean! iii

My beloved thigh anon🦵returns!! Your asks never disappoint. No blood play cause I gotta research and learn how to write it so I hope that’s okay 🥲 Hope y’all enjoy 🤍 p.s there’s like no plot really, just filth.

!! mdni !!

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“Make me.”

The words leave your mouth with little to no thought behind them.

The look he gives you has your heart beating out of your chest. You open your mouth to take the words back but your breath gets caught in your throat.

He stares at you, head tilted before he’s stalking over to you. His hand closes around your throat, pushing you back against the wall. “What was that?” His other hand hits the wall behind you, his head tilting down to eye level.

You try to speak again. Panic sets in because you know you’ve really pissed him off. Your mouth opens and closes with no words escaping while you look at him.

He spins you around and crowds you against the wall, grinding against your ass while roughly gripping your hips. “All day. All day you’ve been a pain in the ass.” He deals a harsh smack to your ass. “Why is that, hm?”

You only let out a whine which earns you another smack before he’s hurriedly tugging your bottoms down your thighs. His hands leave you momentarily and you hear the metal clink of his belt buckle. “It seems that you’re after something. What are you trying to accomplish?”

You have no time to answer before he’s thrusting into you fully. You gasp and bite over your bottom lip. The sting of the sudden intrusion makes your eyes water. “What? You want my cock in you?” He grabs both your hands and brings them together behind your back. “Take it then. You seem to want it so bad.”

You grit your teeth as a tear escapes. “I’m sorry! Please just give me a second!” Your voice shakes.

“Why would I do that? What did you expect? You act like a whore so you’ll be treated like one.” His grip on your wrists is tight as he roughly thrusts into you. You breathe through your nose and close your eyes. Each individual thrust still stings and you’re almost embarrassed to admit that you like it.

He’s buried to the hilt and sneaks a hand around you to grope at your chest. You let out a moan and you hear him snicker behind you. “Oh, what a pretty noise. I thought you needed a second?” He speaks against the side of your neck. “Do it again.” His teeth close over the skin on your neck before he laps his tongue over the bite. You whine out and grind your hips back against him, your hands straining to touch him. “C’mon, let me hear another one.” He nips at your shoulder.

He tweaks at your nipple before closing his hand over your throat to tilt your head back. A loud whine leaves you and earns you a grunt from iii, his hips snapping to yours faster. “That’s it, good whore.” He relentlessly pounds into you, words of filth and grunts leave him, his hands wander your neck and chest.

You chase your release when his hand finds its way in between your thighs, fingers and palm working over you quickly. You push your hips back to meet iii’s thrusts, whines and whimpers freely flowing from your mouth. He groans against your neck, sucking the skin. You clench your hands behind you, eyes squeezed shut as you let your head fall forward. Your legs shake as iii’s hand and cock work you through your climax. It’s only when you’re begging him to let off, on the verge of tears that he pulls away from you.

He’s quick to spin you around, his mouth meeting yours in a hurried kiss. “I’m not done with you.” He speaks against your lips, a hand reaching around to land a sharp smack on your ass before groping your flesh roughly. You whine at the sting and he pulls away from you, a smirk on his face. He cups your jaw and looks down at you. “What? That hurt a little?” He tilts his head, thumb running over your cheek. You nod and furrow your brows. “Good.” His hand lightly slaps your cheek. You’re taken aback but you can’t deny the slight ache that returns between your legs.

He moves to stand behind you again, crowding against your back while pushing you towards the bedroom. His head bends down to kiss along the side of your face, teeth closing over your earlobe. You can barely focus as you walk, his mouth and wandering hands making it hard to think.

“On your back for me.” He says once you reach the bedroom. You’re quick to follow instructions, not wanting to make things worse for yourself. He stands at the side of the bed and pulls you to him by the backs of your knees. You watch his jaw clench when your hips meet abruptly. He shakes his head as he looks down at you. “Don’t look so nervous, love. You knew what you were getting yourself into, didn’t you?” He brings your legs to rest on his shoulders, fingertips lightly running along them.

You nod and dig your heels into his shoulders to bring him down to you. “I said I was sorry.” He lets you pull him down and smiles slightly when you press a kiss to his mouth. “I heard.” You feel the head of his cock press against you again. “But I still haven’t taken out all my frustration on you yet.” He says through gritted teeth as he sinks into you again. You hiss. You’re still sore but he at least gives you a couple seconds before he starts moving.

A gravely groan comes from him as his head rolls back. His fingertips dig into your calves as his thrusts speed up. “Shit, you just feel too good.” He breathes out. You can tell his focus is purely on finishing, his eyes screwed shut, brows furrowed. It doesn’t take long before his movements turn frantic and sloppy.

You’re surprised when he abruptly pulls out of you and moves to crouch down beside the bed. His mouth is on you before you can even register what’s happening. His tongue works over you as his fingers dig into the sides of your thighs. You thread your fingers into his hair and tug, which earns you a groan, the vibrations from him only furthering your pleasure. His hand eventually replaces his mouth and he moves to suck marks on your thighs. “You’ll cum from my mouth and again while I fuck you. Hear me?” He speaks against your skin as his hand moves faster.

You whine out and tug on his hair again. “What about you? I know you were close a second ago.” You speak breathlessly. You hiss and try to jerk your leg away when you feel his jaw close over the top of your thigh quickly. “I didn’t say anything about what I want.” He hums before digging his teeth into your skin again. “You really don’t know how to listen, do you? Dumb little thing.”

Tears brim your eyes as he repeatedly lets his teeth close over the same bit of your flesh. Finally giving you some reprieve, he runs his tongue over the marks before replacing his working hand with his mouth. That doesn’t stop him from running his thumb over the bite marks, massaging over your aching skin. A few tears fall. Half due to the pain, half due to the overwhelming feelings and sensations you’re experiencing. Your hips buck up to meet his mouth and he does nothing to still them. Your whines and moans are just as constant as the tears that fall from your eyes.

Your second release hits you just as hard, if not harder than your first. It sneaks up on you and knocks the breath out of you. Your hips still and your fingers pull roughly at iii’s hair as he works you through your second climax. He groans against you and it sends shockwaves through you. It’s almost too much when he keeps his mouth on you, cleaning you up with his tongue.

You feel like you could drown with the amount of tears falling down your face. A labored sob comes from you and you feel iii reach up to rub at your sides. His mouth eventually lets up and you feel like you can relax a little. “Now I’ve got you crying. How fitting.” You can barely hear him through the blood rushing to your head.

He gives you little to no time before his cock is in you again. You could scream out at the oversensitivity between your legs but you’re too spent and dazed to move away from him. He gives in to two quick thrusts before he stills above you. “Hey, look at me.” You feel his thumbs on your cheeks wiping tears away. You open your eyes and attempt to catch your breath as you look up at him. You think you see concern flash across his face but it’s hard to tell through your hazy vision. “You’re alright. You’ve been so good for me. Just once more for me and we’ll be done, alright?” He smooths a hand over the top of your head. “C’mere.” He leans down to press a tender kiss to your mouth, wrapping his arms under and around you in a tight hug.

His mouth moves to the side of your face to pepper kisses on your cheek and jaw. “You okay?” His hips grind into yours. You sniffle and nod, digging your fingertips into his sides. His full thrusts return and you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a deep breath. He coos and shushes you before pushing his head into the crook of your neck. His tongue lazily laps over your neck, quiet grunts sound in your ear. He keeps his movements somewhat slow and gentle, making sure to take notes when he hears whines from you.

You knew it wouldn’t take long to finish again but you’re almost surprised at how fast it hits you. Your legs loop around iii’s hips in an attempt to keep him to you. Mouth open in a silent cry, hips bucking up. III goes silent next to you but you feel his jaw clench against your neck. His movements once again turn sloppy before his hips still against yours and a deep groan leaves him. His arms squeeze you tighter as he shudders when clench around him.

You’re on the verge of sleep by the time he pulls out and away from you. You feel his lips on your forehead and faintly hear his words of praise and appreciation before he leaves the room.

He eventually gathers you to lay next to him on the pillows, after cleaning you and himself up. He wraps himself around you, fingers running down your arm as he waits for your breaths to even out, before falling asleep himself.

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III is just so….

Thanks again anon for this ask, was very….fun 👀

I think I’ll be closing my requests for a lil bit so I can work on the NINE I have sitting in my inbox!! Y’all are so fun with your requests and I love it!! 🤍

K. Bye bye.