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cowpokeomens · 6 months

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Blood Born

Hi hello! Sorry I disappeared, life has just been happening lately no matter how much I tell it not to. Anyways, below the cut you'll find Noah Sebastian with a mysterious secret doin the nasty bc I'm nothing if not a monster fucker.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of weapons, dirty nasty p-in-v smut, Noah's monster cock (canon), praise kink, there's some biting too. I think that's everything but I'm really tired so if I missed something, let me know! Enjoy!

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New Orleans had always been one of Noah’s favorite cities.

He’d been partial to the French, anyway. Liked the way they baked absurd little confections, the way they fucked without remorse- the way they’d put each other’s head on a pike just to get a leg up in court. He’d been fortunate enough to be endowed with a pretty face, and there were few things the French liked more than that.

Which is where he found himself now, walking through the French Quarter, looking for dinner. There were approximately a million restaurants with old signs beckoning him inside, but Noah had lost a taste for that kind of food long before he stepped foot in this city.

He smelled you before he saw you.

It was the off season, if such a thing existed for a city like this. You were bundled up in a jacket, hurrying through the streets. It was chilly, even for this time of year, the wind making its way through your hair to whip in every direction. That must have been what blew your scent his way, the intoxicating scent of jasmine and an uninterrupted heart beat almost making him stiffen up where he stood, across the street from you. He mourned your scent as you ducked into a building, trying to escape the chill. You didn’t reek of alcohol the way most people in this area did- if he had to guess, he’d say you probably hadn’t had anything stronger than a glass of wine tonight. The thought of how that would taste had him darting across the nearly empty street to follow you into the building quickly.

He didn’t get a good meal often. The drunken strangers he usually managed to entice sated him in the way a pint of blueberries would satisfy a black bear. It was hard to find a sober person who would let you bite them, and the ones who did come along were, well, strange to say the least. As if he had any moral high ground.

The inside of the building was warm, dimly lit. He spotted you immediately, in a far corner by the bar, alone.

Blessed be to the old gods and the new. He thought to himself. He wouldn’t even have to lure you away from a group. He could easily seduce an individual, but multiples were hard when he was hungry.

He made his way over to where you sat, sitting around the corner so he could face you, but not be in your personal space. “Whiskey neat, please.” The bartender nodded once, pouring something foul and cheap-smelling into a glass with an ice cube. Noah fought back a grimace at the stench.

“Oh, come on, Remy, don’t give him the fucking Jack Daniel’s.” A voice called next to him. “If you want to cheap out, do Crown. Who the hell voluntarily drinks Jack?”

Noah slowly turned his head to where you sat, frowning at the bartender, who was rolling his eyes in return. He did remake Noah’s drink though, with something decidedly more palatable.

As he sat the drink down and walked to another patron, Noah turned to you. “Thank you. I was having a difficult time coping with the thought of that on my palate.”

You flashed him a grin. Briefly, he wondered what it would feel like to breathe again.

“No worries. Remy likes to give the tourists the bottom shelf shit, but you seem like the sort of guy who knows his whiskey.” You took a small sip of your wine, something deeply red that made Noah shift in his seat ever so slightly.

He inhaled once. “Grenache?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You know your wines, too. How could you tell?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Lucky guess.”

You cocked your head to the side curiously. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’ve never been here before.” Noah responded, emotionless.

“January is an odd time to visit for someone who’s never been here before.” You prodded further.

Noah couldn’t fight the smirk on his face. “Must you always play with your food?” Jolly had sighed once. “Maybe if I had a better tour guide, I would know that.”

He turns to look at you know, registers every emotion that crosses your face. Your pupils widen noticeably, your back going a little straighter. You were making this too easy for him.

“You’re in luck, I happen to know a gal.” You’re beaming at him- a sweet, lopsided grin as you take a gulp of your wine and introduce yourself. Noah watches the movement of your throat as you do so, responding with his own name. He takes a moment to drink you in.

Your jacket is gone now, but you’re still wearing a sweatshirt for a school he’s never heard of (Which, to be fair, is most of them.) Dark jeans cling to your legs where they sway idly from the barstool, your feet not touching the ground. Your hair has been pulled away from your face, but a few wisps escape and kiss the sides of your cheeks. He realizes, almost startled, that you’re beautiful.

A dignified kind of beautiful, not the otherworldliness that his kind manages. He knows he’s attractive, but it’s the same kind of beauty that humans see in tigers, snakes- A warning sign, a mark of predation. The kind of beauty you admire from the other side of bullet proof glass.

You, though- you’re so warm. He can feel your warmth, even from over here. It transcends physicality; Warmth that is visceral, in your eyes and your lips and the scrunch of your nose reacting to the cold.

“Hey, you okay?” Your soft voice shakes him out of his thoughts. “You looked sad.”

His eyes lock with yours, finding such human concern that if he could have wept, he would. You looked like you cared for people. He had not been cared for in a very long time.

“Yes, sorry. Zoned out for a second there.” He quickly finished off his drink. “I would love to take you up on that offer, though. It would be nice to see the city from a local’s perspective.”

He was a dirty liar. He knew the earth of this place before the French could even see it from their ships. It was wild then, and wild now- though in different ways. He could see the old wild in the eyes of workers practicing their vaudou and the shadows that lingered at the edge of the swamps surrounding the city. It beckoned, a siren’s call out to the murky depths of the region. Colonizers said they “settled” the territory, but everyone old enough to remember knows that lands like that don’t settle.

He supposed he was, in some ways, a marriage of those wilds. He remembered the things that lurked in the shadows… and now he was the thing lurking in that same darkness, however many lifetimes later.

“You know,” You interrupted his thoughts again, grabbing your coat in the process, “You get this really old-and-wise look on your face when you zone out. Are you thinking about war crimes, or mac ‘n cheese?”

He smiled despite himself. “Mac ‘n cheese.”

You blinded him briefly with a smile in return. He knew instantly that he would regret this, but followed you out the bar nonetheless, throwing a bill onto the counter without looking back.

You walked alongside each other in companionable silence until you spoke up.

“So, what brings you to the city alone?”

Noah smirked at the ground. You didn’t even try to disguise your inquiries. It was refreshing.

“I was supposed to be visiting friends, but they’re not here anymore.” It wasn’t a lie- not the truth, but certainly not a lie.

You frowned. “You didn’t think to check that your friends lived here still before you came?”

Noah shook his head. “I was actually just passing through- decided to stay a few days.”

You nodded, as if his non-answers made any sense. It reminded him of how he would nod at the eloquent words of his elders when he was a child, like pretending he was wiser than he was would somehow allow the wisdom to materialize out of sheer will. A thought occurred to him. “How old are you?”

“Oh, I’m 25.” You responded, turning to cast a glance up at him. “You?”

He found he didn’t want to lie to you. “Older than you.” Was the answer he settled on.

You snorted, surprising him. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Come on man, that’s like, the most ‘Guy Older Than 27’ thing to say.” You rolled your eyes at him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone rolled their eyes at him.

He grinned anyway, not looking at you. “Fair enough. I am older than 27.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. “Why so cryptic? Scared I’ll send you back to the nursing home you escaped from-”

You were cut off as he crowded you up against a wall, staring down his nose at you, arms on either side of your head. “You’re kind of mouthy, you know that?”

“Then shut me up.” Your words were rushed, like they escaped before you could think them over properly. He hesitated for only a second, then leaned in to kiss you.

You bloomed like a flower in spring for him, lips parting in a gasp, chest heaving as color rushed to your cheeks. He felt drunk as his tongue traced your lip, hands coming down to grasp your hips. You parted after only a few moments, breath ragged.

“I live about a block from here.” Your intentions were not lost on him.

He took a step back, gesturing for you to lead the way. You finished your nighttime stroll soon after, quickly pulling out your keys to unlock your front door.

Noah pauses at the door. Some of the superstitions were all too true. You turn around to face him, framed by the light of your entryway.

“Well, come in then. It’s cold.” You urge him, holding the door open. He lets out a breath he didn’t need.

He follows you inside to the warm interior. He’s taking in your interior decoration choices when you pounce, pulling him to your mouth. He happily obliges, deepening the kiss and wrapping an arm around your back. He felt your hands come up to his chest, pushing him away.

“Did you want to stop-” He began, until you interrupted him.

“No, but thanks. I’m just trying to get us to a flat surface that isn’t my hardwood floors.” You gave him a sly smile, taking him by the hand and tugging him through the house.

His eyes could see in pitch black, but he was still thoroughly impressed by how you could navigate in the dim light. You must have lived here for a while.

You flung open a door with ease, still pulling him behind you. He could see the bed as you shoved him onto it, crawling on top of him. He was grinning as you leaned in to kiss him again-

Then you stopped.

He suddenly realized, not reacting quickly enough as you scrambled off him and flipped on the lights.

“Your teeth-” You began, then froze as you took in the sight of him. He already knew what you were seeing. Blood vessels protruding around his eyes. His irises, sclera- blown pitch black. Cold skin even paler than usual. He could feel them now, behind his lips-

Fangs.

“What the fuck is going on?” You were too calm, given the circumstances, given your words.

Noah could only imagine the look on his face; Shame, embarrassment, regret. “I’ll go-”

“No no no, nuh-uh. You’re going to stay right there and explain what’s going on or I’ll scream bloody murder and Mr. Joe will come over with his 42 and we’ll have real problems.”

Noah stilled, though probably not for the reason you were wanting. “I’m sorry, did you just threaten to shoot me? I grew teeth, I’m a big scary monster, you can’t just shoot-”

“Yes I can! And I will! I’m crazy! I’m not scared of sexy scary monsters, I’m from backwoods Louisiana, pal! I’ve been hunting! I-”

“You think I’m sexy?” Noah could feel his eyes returning to normal as he grinned at you.

“Shut up.” Your voice cracked, betraying you.

Noah stood up, cocking his head to the side. His fangs were retracting now, disappearing from view. He gave you a long look.

You looked pissed, which was new. He was more accustomed to fear, knew how to respond to it, soothe it. You had a glint in your eye that looked different from just anger, almost like-

Betrayal. The earth whispered to him.

He took a deep breath. He could still smell arousal on you. “I’m sorry, this wasn’t… how I wanted this to go.”

“Then how did you want it to go?” You threw back at him.

“I- I don’t know! I thought we could hook up and then I’d leave when you fell asleep and I’d find some rando on the way home and-” He stopped short, unsure of how to continue.

“And what?” You prodded, sounding fearful for the first time that evening. Good. You should be scared. He was a monster- an old one. For all you knew he ate virgins and burned down villages.

He looked down, unable to meet your eyes. “And… drink their blood.”

You exhaled, long. “You kill people to eat?”

His neck snapped up at you. “No, no! Oh my god, no. Just a nibble and I’m on my way-” He stopped at the giggle you let out. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just,” You straightened your face. “You eat people and refer to it as a ‘nibble?’”

“I don’t eat people.” He deadpanned, giving you a look.

“You just drink their blood.”

“Right.”

You both stared at each other for a long moment.

“So why-” You began.

Noah motioned for you to continue.

You blinked. “Why the fangs, then? If you weren’t going to… y’know.” You averted your gaze.

A movement Noah quickly mirrored. “Oh, um. It’s like- an arousal thing. Pretty girl kisses me, fangs pop out.”

You were looking at him again. “You think I’m pretty?”

He met your eyes. “Yeah. Prettiest thing I’ve seen so far, and I’ve been around for a while.”

You took a slow step towards him. “How often do you eat?”

“Um, once a week, if it’s good. Maybe twice if it’s not.” He responded automatically, trying not to think about how bizarre this conversation was.

Your head tilted slightly. Another step. “How long has it been? Since you’ve… fed?”

He was watching you carefully now. Then, very quietly, he said “Two weeks.”

Something like concern flooded your eyes, and you almost winced at him. “That’s a long time to be hungry.”

He could see your jugular on your neck, pulsating with life. He said nothing in response.

You took another step. “Would it help if you… fed on me?”

He looked at you sharply, processing your words in seconds. “No.”

“Why not?” You countered, cocking a brow.

Why not? The earth whispered at him again, voice a caress in his ear. He could smell you- Alive, fresh and-

Fertile. The familiar voice supplied. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. I’m not going to tell her she smells fertile, he retorted.

“You can’t think of a good reason.” You assumed, staring almost directly into his silence.

“I could hurt you.” He supplied helplessly.

“And that’s worse than hurting someone else?”

He tried again. “No- it’s not, but-” A deep breath, “I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

You placed a hand on his arm, too warm and too close. “Then I’ll just hurt you back.” You were so close to him, when did you get this close- “You look awfully hungry, Noah.” You murmured, looking up at him through your lashes.

It was impossible for him to misread your body language as his hands came up to grip your hips, tugging you closer to him. He could feel your nipples hardening where your bodies met.

“You can tell me to stop, okay? Whenever you want, just say the word and we’ll stop.” He was panting now, salivating in anticipation as his canines slid back out.

You nodded. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Then you kissed him again, sliding your tongue over his fangs in a move that made him outright moan into your mouth. He scooped you up in what was obviously a feat of superhuman strength, chucking you onto the bed.

He made quick work of your clothes, pulling your shirt over your head in a swift movement that had him pausing to stare. “Blessed be to the old gods and the new.” He breathed, taking in your pert nipples, breasts swaying at his hasty movements. He leaned in, running his tongue from your sternum, up through your breasts, stopping only at your neck. “Do you taste as good as you look, love?”

Your cheeks reddened. “Let’s hope so.”

He grinned, a wicked, awful thing, tugging on your pants until they slid off, leaving you in just your underwear. “Wanna see a trick?”

You did not want to see a trick, you decided as your body betrayed you and nodded anyway.

He came down to eye-level with your mound, slowly and carefully hooking a single fang on the fabric, sliding it directly through your panties until they were completely torn open.

You gaped, unable to form words.

“Sorry, those were cute. I’ll make it up to you.” Noah promised as he spread your legs open for him.

You felt exposed, vulnerable. Your entire body went red as he watched you. He ran a finger up your slit, making your entire body shudder. “Oh? Baby likes that?”

You nodded, blinking rapidly. Noah swatted your inner thigh, not enough to hurt, but enough to get your attention. “Use your words.”

Your cheeks grew even pinker. “Y-yes, I liked it.”

He leaned down, caging you in. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Please.” You whispered. His eyes went pitch black again.

“Good girl, already knows to beg.” He backed off of you, tugging off his turtleneck sweater, revealing a fully tattooed torso. Your mouth went dry at the sight. “Again.” He demanded.

“Please.” You obeyed, still barely above a whisper.

“Prettier.” He demanded again, unbuckling his pants.

“P-please, Noah, please-”

“Almost there.” His pants hit the floor, revealing a pair of equally as inked legs.

“Please, I’ll be so good, Noah, please, let me be good-”

“That’s a good girl, good job. C’mere.” He sat back down on the bed, the outline of his cock clearly visible in his briefs. You wanted to feel, to taste.

You obliged his command, crawling over to straddle his lap.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, pretty thing.” He began, sliding a finger inside of you as he did so. You gasped, latching onto his shoulder for support. “I’m going to get you nice and loose, then you’re going to ride me, like this. Understand?”

“Yes sir.” You stammered as he added another finger.

“Ooh, nice manners.” He praised, dropped a kiss to your jaw. You shivered at his touch. “When you feel like you’re close, you’re going to tell me, and then I’m going to bite right-” he rubbed a small line on the side of your neck- “Here. Does that sound okay?”

You nodded, then remembered to say “Yes, yes, sounds wonderful, sounds amazing, Noah fuck me please-”

He chuckled quietly, lifting you up ever so slightly to align himself where he had pulled down is briefs. “You ready?”

“Noah I swear to whatever gods, old and new- fuck.” Your rampage broke off into a moan as he slid himself into you. His thrusts were short at first, letting you adjust, until you finally sank all the way down.

You were panting when you finally bottomed out. “Big- ‘S so big.” You whined, clenching and unclenching on him involuntarily.

Noah’s breaths were equally as ragged. His hands had come to rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on them. “Whenever you’re ready.” He placed another kiss on your forehead.

You waited another few seconds, then pulled up experimentally. The drag of him inside you had a long moan escaping your throat. You dropped down, gasping, rising up again. You repeated this until you were riding him in earnest, moans and gasps escaping you both.

You didn’t know how Noah was managing to hit that bundle of nerves inside of you every time you sank down, but he was. You draped your arms on his shoulders, leaning in to kiss him deeply, fangs tugging on your lip ever so slightly. “You look so good riding my cock baby, look so good with a big cock in you, like you were made for this-” Noah’s profane train of thought continued on until it was white noise in your ears. You registered that your thighs were shaking from the effort, but you couldn’t stop, not when you were so close-

“Close.” You panted. “Fuck, Noah, I’m so close, so close-”

He pulled your hair to the side quickly, teeth lining up with your throat.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-”

The world went white as Noah sank his fangs into your throat and you came, release squirting all over the both of you as your body shook.

You panted as he sucked at your throat, eyes fluttering shut. One of his hands was rubbing at your back, the other snaked around your waist. You stayed like that for a few minutes more, until you almost felt light-headed and he released you with a soft “pop.”

You blinked at him sleepily as he laid you down against your pillow. He stood up, tugging up his boxers and turning to walk away. “Are you leaving?” You slurred, sounding sad even to yourself.

You could hear his little laugh. “No, I’m getting you a snack and some water. I know I’m dreamy, but I can’t have the ladies passing out on me.”

You rolled your eyes as he disappeared, faint clattering alerting you of when he found the kitchen.

When he returned, you were more alert, taking the water and gulping it down. You took a second to look at him.

He was beautiful before, but now- wow.

His hair was silky, skin still pale but not so lifeless. His eyes were richly dark, amusement seeming to dance in them. “Y’know,” You began, “You’re really pretty when you’re not starving to death.”

If he could have blushed, he might have. “Back at you.” Was his response, handing you crackers.

You nibbled on them while he went about dressing himself. “You’re not staying?” You did your best to not sound disappointed.

Noah shot you a smile. “Sadly, no. I have to get back to my hiding hole before the sun comes up.”

You nodded, looking down. “Will I get to see you again?”

“I have a feeling you’ll be seeing entirely too much of me.” Noah responded, sounding amused.

“What makes you say that?” You questioned, confusion written on your face.

“Because you broke the cardinal sin of running around with a vampire.” Noah grinned, looking devious. “You invited me in.”

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens smut #noah sebastian smut #vampire!noah sebastian

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artigas · 4 days

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I’m really happy that Black Sails is experiencing a bit of a renaissance, but (predictably) some of the takes I’m seeing online are so busted. It’s wild to me that anyone would complain about the fact that Anne Bonny kisses Jack after she’s developed this life-changing relationship with Max. It’s absolutely wild to see anyone roll their eyes or feel uncomfortable about the fact that Flint has sex with Miranda when he returns to her in season one or that Max is most likely a lesbian but actively has sex with men for pay and knows how to make that pleasurable. It’s crazy to me that some of the very audiences who claim to want queer representation feel so discomforted when they actually see the mess and seeming inconsistencies of queerness that they asked for.

The reality is that there are lesbians who have had (and will have!) meaningful, mutually-gratifying, and deeply sexual relationships with men. There are gay men who’ve enjoyed having sex with women, who are gay as the day is long and nevertheless feel sexually attracted to a woman or two and are nevertheless gay men, full stop. There are gay cis men who are happily married to trans women. There are femme dom tops and butch bottoms and there are mascs afab people who like femme boys. There are non-binary people and trans men who actively identify as lesbians. There are ace and aro people who enjoy thinking about and engaging with sex — sometimes in fiction and sometimes in real life. Queerness, in fiction and in reality, defies neat categorization. That is the beauty, power, and (perceived) unorthodoxy of queerness.

Now, I’ll say this — do I think the straight men behind Black Sails were actively thinking deeply and insightfully about the paradoxes and fuckery of queer identity when they wrote Black Sails? No! By their own admission, Steinberg and Levine have owned up to the fact that some of the writing of the show was really hinged on their own blind spots as people who are not (to my knowledge) members of the queer community. If I want to be generous, I think that the beautiful mess of Black Sails is that, in not feeling like experts enough to designate specific identity labels to any of their characters, the writers stumbled their way into more authentic representation of lived queer experience, which is to say that the notion that James Flint was actively thinking of himself as a gay man was anachronistic. As many lesbian archivists and theories have noted, the notion of a queer identity — as in, queerness is who you are, not what you do — was patently unthinkable for most cultures in the past. In other words, the idea that Anne Bonny operates in the eighteenth century as a lesbian and thus would not willingly engage in relationships with men is not only untrue of the series, but untrue of most recorded lesbian experiences in the real world. The notion that a lesbian would operate her entire life without engaging sexually or romantically with men, for instance, is a very new privilege that some of us are very lucky to enjoy, but it is not true for the vast majority of human history — hell, it’s not even true of our present world.

This is all to say that think that there’s something really funny about how we want queer characters to fit into neatly organized boxes. This isn’t a new problem, either. When the show was still airing, the BS fandom would get itself into tizzies about wether or not Flint is gay or bisexual, wether or not Anne Bonny is a lesbian, wether or not Silver is queer when his only canonical relationship is with Madi, etc etc. We’ve been having these discourses for years and I don’t know. I get that much of it is fueled by how badly some people want to see themselves represented in media, but . . . well. The siloing of queer characters and queer narratives into neat little boxes has never felt very authentic to me and nine times out of ten, it’s also just so damn boring.

#black sails #anyways I gotta stop yapping #its just wild seeing the same arguments play out on twitter and other corners of tumblr when like #lmao I was there for the day when like 2.5 people got very angry that I referred to Max as a queer woman ONCE #and interchangeably with calling her a lesbian lmao #when I tell you … I love this show but those writers were not being that intentional with any of this lmao

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spider-man-199999 · 1 year

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Paris to Tokyo

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+; academic rivals to lovers

word count: 5K

warnings: smut; slight angst; unpotected sex

summary: You start your new life at college, expecting it to be the most exciting time of your life, only to be met with Peter Parker, who decided to dedicate his free time to making your life a living hell

a/n: I've been dying to write an enemies to lovers type of fic, it's also my first time writing anything with suggestive content in it, so bear with me please. The heading is the most random thing I could come up with I'm sorry

College was the place you were looking forward to the most since you graduated high school. It was supposed to be a place where you met people with similar interest, went out with them to have fun and engage in intellectual converstaions. And it was exactly like that, for the most part. Growing up as a natuarally intelligent kid had you been putting little to no effort in school and always got you good grades. This quickly escalated into you trying a bit harder with each test and striving for more academic validation. At some point you even managed to become the best student in your class. But sitting hours on end on a desk and studying was still something very foreign to you. Sure, you would revise from time to time on topics that were harder to remember or things you couldn't recall from class, but it never went further than that. And maybe a degree in Biophysic was not the wisest idea given that backgroung. So, when college came around and you started the new classes on topics your common knowledge could barely help you keep up with, things went downhill very fast. For the first time you were faced with faliure, hard work and putting hours on end to study. It felt like everyone around you was more knowledgeable, more prepared, more educated on literally any topic that was discussed in and outside of class. Being at the bottom of the academic foodchain was mildy infuriating, to say the least.

And after the first few months of sleepless nights, filling up all of the holes so you could catch up to speed, you finally did it, and it felt more rewarding than anything else. This assisted you into making casual conversations with so many people from your different classes, one of them even inviting you to a study group that had been going on for months. You happily agreed to that idea, thinking it would be the best way to keep up with everyone in the class, not only academically but socically as well.

The day of the study group finally arrived on what seemed like the most normal, yet the most exciting Tuesday. They added you to a groupchat, everyone texting back and forth until all of you had agreed to go grab a coffee before heading to the library. You had tried your best to look presentable for this study date, putting on some white wide-leg dress pants and a neat navy blue t-shit that hugged your body very well. You hair was in a sleek bun, having a white buttonup because the weather was slightly chilly. Almost everyone had arrived there on time, which took you by surprise since you were used to being the only one being on time. After the cheerful greeting and formally learning everyone's names, you went inside and grabbed a coffee, returning to them promptly. You stood by the door, since the group had formed a circle around the entrance of the small shop.

"Was I the last one?" You asked concerned, looking around and counting the people.

"Actually, we're waiting for Peter" Someone said, everyone giggling softly and shaking their head.

"Who's Peter?" You asked, and as soon as you did, you felt something push againt your shoulder, sending you a step forward so you wouldn't come crashing down from losing your balance.

"I'M SO SORRY" you heard from behind you, turning around to see a boy with a worried expression on his face, paper cup in his hand. He was handsome, hair pushed back, warm eyes and nervous smile, leather jacked over a black t-shirt.

"That's Peter" someone stated, pulling you out of your trance. Peter chuckled, moving past you and motioning for everyone to go, since he was the one you all had been waiting for.

On the walk there you kept staring at the back of Peter's head, annoyed that he pushed you with the door, frusrated because he didn't even bother to introduce himself to you. Not that he really had to, you already knew well enough who he was. The guy who always came in rushing because he was late, somehow still managed to sit directly in front of you, blocking your view, no matter where you sat. He was the guy that would beat you to every question, the one who would always have the best grade on the tests. He leaned way too back in his seat, back pressed to your desk, pushing it, as you would try to keep up with writing everything down. And he would always ask you for a pen, every single time.

The study room was spacious and bright, it had a big round table for everyone to sit at, as well as two whiteboards and plenty or outlests for chargers and what not. It looked like the perfect place to study with a large group, excluding the fact Peter was there as well. You all took random seats around the table, Parker sitting across from you, almost as if it were on purpose. You held back an eye roll when he smiled at you cockily, making you look away and take out your laptop and notebook from your bag. The screen managed to block out most of Peter's face if you sink into your seat low enough. The conversation in the room flowed naturally, it was so interesting and engaging and you were having a blast speaking to these people. Soon enough all of you had solved the first homework questions, you quickly grabbing a pen and writing it down in your notebook. As you were in the middle of writing, an outside force closed your laptop. Your eyes looked at the laptop, seeing a pale male hand, fingers spread. You stared at it for a few seconds, noticing how pretty the hand actually was, long and straight fingers, follwed by a slim wrist and a muscular forearm. Your gaze trailed the hand up to Peter's face, looking into his eyes with annoyance already.

"Hey, do you-" before he even managed to finished his sentence, you had taken out a pen from your pencil case and placed it on your laptop, next to his hand.

"Thank you" he muttered, you not even looking back at him. This routine, as much as it was annoying, gave you some kind of comfort as well.

"How come you never have a pen with you?" You asked after a while, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Oh, well actually I do have one, it's easier to just use yours"

''Unbelieveble"

"Come on, like you would ever need a second pen for anything"

You hovered over the table and grabbed the pen from his hand in a swift motion, he looked a bit taken a back, as well as the few people following your interaction.

"Actually, I need it now" you said, putting the one you were using away and continuing your writing with the one you just got back from him.

"You're being unbelieveble now" He said slightly irritated, reaching to get his won pen from his backpack.

"The two of you, cut it out, you're acting like children!" someone shushed you, making you blush when you realised it wasn't just you and the curly-haired boy in the room.

You gulped softly, mummbling a sorry to everyone as you kept writing down.

"Us cut it out? She was the one acting like a child, making a big deal out of a pen!" Peter whined and complained, starting to write down things in his notebook after he got a few angry glares from other people.

Around the time the group got to the third and final question for the homework you were feeling confident enough to try to contribute to the assignment.

"So you're basically saying that principle of hemodialysis is the same as other methods of dialysis - it involves diffusion of solutes across a semipermeable membrane?" you asked, as you were brainstorming through the question.

"Oh come on, y/n, this is the easiest question so far!'' Peter said, leaning froward, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Ever since the pen situation, he's been worse than ever before, taking every opportunity to show of how much smarter he was, followed by a cocky smirk.

"Intermittent dialysis therapy is used in chronic uremia to re-establish body water solute concentrations that cannot be achieved by the natural organ. In this sense, the dialyzer becomes an artificial kidney and it is through the transport of substances by this device that chemical and biophysical control consistent with continued survival is achieved." He explained, solving the question for you.

"She had it figured out, you could have let her be" Someone you didn't remember the name of said to him, making Peter's head turn in that direction.

"She obviously didn't, keep in mind her highest grade is my lowest" He snapped back.

You could feel the tension in the atmosphere thicken with each second, things were about to escalate very quickly. His words stung a bit and you felt something like a ball stuck in your throat after he said them. He didn't know how much work you had put in and he was incosiderate enough to just assume the worst of you. Before things managed to get any further, or worse, out of control, you slammed your thick notebook shut.

"Since Peter was kind enough to solve the last question, I think I'm going to call it a night" you said, fighting back the tears. Your voice gave you away as it wa slightly shaky, earning a few sympatheric looks.

You shoved your things in the bag as quickly as you as possible and walked out, trying to get as far away as possible. You were trying not to break down the whole walk back to your dorm, bitting your lip, brushing away some stray tears that ran down your cheeks with your sleeve. You were mentally blaming yourself for everything, for not walking fast enough, for not knowing enough, for deciding to join the study group, for even deciding on this degree to begin with. By the time you made it to your room, your phone was already blown up by text messages from Natalie, the person who originally invited you. She was a small blonde, blue-eyed beauty that was just as smart as she was pretty. You could bet on your own life that she was class president and the prom queen in high school. She was more than kind to you this whole time and her text messages suggested that she was worried about you too. With a quick click you deleted all the messages from your notification centre and threw the phone on your bed, followed by your bag. Hot tears ran down your face, breathing heavily as you were preactically sobbing at this point. You sat down on the floor, not being able to hold in the frustrstion anymore as you finally broke down, letting all of the shame, pain and anger flow out of your system through your tears.

A couple of hours had gone by, your tears were dried up on your face and neck as you lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Your phone kept buzzing from time to time and you finally gathered the emotional strenght to reply to the messages. Sitting on the bed, you unlocked the device and scrolled through the unred chats. The groupchat had sent the written solutions for the questions. Natalie had probably sent you 20 messages apologising and asking if you were okay. The guy who defended you had also sent you a message. His name was Brad and he looked like any normal person did. You texted him first, thanking him for standing up for you even though he did not need to do that. After him it was Natalie, who called you immediately after you hit send to reply to her first message. You picked up hesitantly, since you knew your voice was definitely going to sound like you had been crying.

"I am so sorry for everything! If I knew you and Peter were on bad terms I wouldn't have done this to you" She immediately spat out

"It's okay, I we aren't on bad terms, well... weren't"

"Have you been crying?"

"No..."

"I'm really sorry! I spoke to him after the whole thing, he's usually nothing like this! He himself couldn't explain why he acted like this"

"Nat, I really, really don't care"

"He said he wanted to make it up to you! He asked me himself for your number and your dorm room!"

"Please tell me you didn't give him any of that information"

"Well..."

"Oh my god now he knows where I live" you whined, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them.

"He wanted to apologise! He looked very sincere and worried"

"Yes, all the psychopaths do, that's why they're so hard to recognize!"

"I'm sure he wouldn't just show up at your door trying to make amends, you'll be fine, plus he's a really cool dude, give him a chance to prove he's not an asshole"

"He had his chance, it was today"

After you two said your goodbyes and hung up, you deicided it was finally time to take a relaxing shower. As you walked out, you heard a knock on your door. Still wrapped in a towel, one hand holding it in place, you opened the door to a Peter Parker, leaning on the doorframe. You blinked a few times rapidly, trying to process what you were seeing.

"Why are you here?" You asked, after carefully calculating your tone and your words

"You weren't picking up your phone" he replied, trying to step a foot inside. You blocked his action with the door.

"I didn't say you could come in"

"Can I come in then?"

"No, good night Parker" With that you tried closing the door on him but he grabbed it, not letting you close it.

"Look, I'm here to apologise for what I said earlier. You don't have to forgive me"

"And I don't, go Peter"

He looked shatter at your words looking into his brown eyes, you almost felt sympathy for him, like he really did feel sorry about what he did. Despite that, you kept your composure, looking at him with all the resentmet you had for him, a sigh leaving his lips as he let go of the door. He didn't need superpowers to know he fucked up, so he left. And you on the other hand, were more devistated than before, but your ego was bruised and your self-esteem ruined. The only person, no matter how annoying, you didn't want to think less of you, thought less of you. Yes, it was good that he wanted to apologise but this was not going to undo his words and the image he obviously had. You didn't even know if the apology really was his idea or was forced on him by the others in the group. You shook you head, dismissing the thoughts as you got ready to sleep. Sleep always helped with heavy emotions and you hoped you would feel better in the morning.

A few weeks went by and you still refused to forgive Peter for what he said. In your heart, you knew he was really sorry at this point but you enjoyed his suffering as you roasted him slowly on low heat. He tried all the cliché ways, buying flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, buying you coffee before every study date. Your neighbours were convinced that the two of you were dating and would always ask about him when you gathered in one of the rooms to eat together or drink. You denied that but they rolled their eyes and never believed. In the mean time Brad tried to get closer to you, even inviting you on a date. You accepted hesitantly, since your heart seemed to be someplace else, liking all of the effort and attention from Parker more than it should. You told Natalie about the date, the two of you had become very close, spending a lot of time together, which often resulted in Brad and Peter tagging along. To say the boys were not getting along would be an understatement. Eyes throwing daggers at each other with every glance, snarky, rude comments were exchanged back and forth. But when you told the pretty blonde about Brad, she was more than excited about it finally happening . She would go on and on about how she knew he liked you ever since the first study session you had together and how he had a very heated fight with Peter after you left. You were grateful for him and what he did, and somehow it still felt wrong to be going out with him.

The night of the date had arrived and you were almost ready, putting in your earrings as you heard a knock on your door. You took a quick look in the full lenght mirror, fixing the long black dress you were wearing. It had a long slit on the left side, exposing your leg, no sleeves and a turtle neck. You had tied your hair in a ponytail, so your light make up would be more visible in the muffled evening lights of wherever he was planning to take you. You opened the door, still not wearing your chunky leather boots but just stockings.

"I thought we were going to meet in front of the library" you said as you opened the door but to your sursprise, someone else was standing there.

"You're not going on that date" Peter said firmly, almost as a command

"You're the last person that's going to tell me what to do" You snapped back at him "Why are you here Parker?"

He walked inside, closing the door behind himself. Peter seemed slightly distressed, looking you up and down with a dark expression.

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, leaning his back against the door, his arms behind him as he looked down at his feet. "Or do you just want to hurt me by going out with the guy I like least? Like really? All the guys are in your feet and you decide to go out with Brad, and look as gorgeous as this."

You could hear the annoyance and sadness in his voice, a bit taken a back from all of the things he just said to you. He just loved doing that, didn't he? Saying the most obnoxious things to make you feel bad about yourself.

"Wait, what?" was all you managed to say, taking a few steps back until your butt pressed agains your desk, making you stop. Books and make up palletes were scattred on it. Peter looked up at you, smiling weakly.

"I've liked you, this whole time" he confessed, staring directly into your eyes "Please, don't go on that date"

"Make me" you said faintly, surprised by how you almost whispered it. There was no way he could have heard that. But somehow he did, taking a few rapid steps towards and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I'll make you forget everyone else but me" he whispered in your ear.

Feeling his hot breath near your face made your heart beat faster, one of your hands resting against his upper arm, looking up into his eyes. You were having a hard time processing what was actually happening, a sudden fear it was one of his games to make fun of you. You tried pushing him away after the realization, but his grip on your waist tightened.

"I'm serious, y/n" he said "I've liked you since I saw you, and I would make everyone sit away from you so I could be near, I would ask you for a pen so I could talk to you. And I tried to show off because I wanted to impress you, I wanted you to think I'm smarter so you could ask me for help in class."

For some reason you believed him, nodding lightly to let him know that. He lifted you up with one arm, sitting you on top of the desk. You were having a hard time vocalizing what you were feeling but you didn't want him to feel awkward because of your silence. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand falling on your exposed leg. You looked down at where his hand was, your skin burning with desire to be touched by him more. Your eyes met his again, his filled with hopefullness and lust. He got closer, titling his head to the side and he kissed you softly and sweetly. You returned the kiss, hands cupping his face and bringing him closer to you. Peter deepened the kiss, turning it in a heated make out session as one of his hands romed around your leg, going up your dress so he could touch more of you and the other one placed on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. You spread your legs, pulling him by the belt so he could position himself between them, your hands going to his hair and playing with his messy curls as your lips and tongues danced against each other. After what seemed like a forever of heated, hungry kisses and filty touching, you broke the kiss so you could catch your breath. You panted havily, chest rising up and down rapidly. Peter pressed his forehead against yours, both of you closing your eyes to collect yourselves.

"Should I at lest text Brad and tell him I'm not going?"

"Well, there goes my hard on"

You hit his chest lightly, both of you giggling at his stupid joke. He looked around, noticing your phone that was charging on the bed, moving away from you to grab it and hand it to you. You unlocked the phone trying to find your chat with Brad while Peter found his previous position, viciously attacking your jaw and neck with kisses. You tried your best to be concentrated and write a normal message, but made a few spelling mistakes nonetheless. Peter nibbled on your neck, which earned him a slight flinch from your side.

“Peter, please, we’re not 16, no hikeys”

He ignored your words, continuing his act the way he had planned it, kissing, licking and sucking on your soft skin while you begged him to stop. His hands were all over your body once again, touching everything that was exposed to him, one hand travelling further up your leg than before, almost landing on your ass but hesitantly stopping. You noticed his uncertainly, pressing your cheek against his so you could whisper in his ear.

“Don’t stop now, Peter” you breathed in his ear, your own hands exploring his body.

He didn’t waste a second after that, grabbing your butt in his hand and pressing his lips against yours. Your hands moved under his shirt, touching his toned stomach. Your were quite shocked to what your fingertips were pressed up against, not expecting him to be as muscular as he actually was. You knew he worked out because you had seen his toned arms in a t-shirt too many times for your own good, but you were definitely not expecting that. Hands quickly slipped him out of his jacket, reaching to pull up his shirt in the heat of the moment but he stopped you, moving slightly away. Your lipstick was smudged all over his mouth and it made you giggle.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked you, his hands finding their way back to your waist. You nodded, undeniably longing for him and his touch, his presence.

“Good, because if we keep this up any longer, I probably won’t be able to hold back” Peter muttered, removing his shirt and tossing it on the floor before he pulled you in again, kissing you.

You took that as a signal that you had to get undressed as well, reaching for the hem of your dress pulling it up. He grabbed your hands when he noticed the act, stopping you from doing what you had planned so he could do it himself. Suddenly you felt the cold air from the room against your skin, along with Peter's warm hands, making you shiver. You undid his belt, helping him pull his pants down, breaking your kiss in the process. You laughed soflty at how he was jumping on one leg while he was trying to kick his pants off, shaking your head.

"What?" He asked

"Nothing, nothing, I'm really missing a date right now for you jumping on one leg to get out of your pants" you bursted out laughing, him joining you shortly after.

"No, it's going to get so much better, trust me" He stated, grabbing you and lifting you up, throwing you on the bed. You squeaked softly from his actions, not expecting it. Soon enough he had your hands pinned down with his, hovering over you. A soft gulp at the sight from you made him chuckle, kissing on your neck once again. He had already left a mark there, starting to suck on a second spot next it.

"Peter really! It's going to be so hard to cover them up" you whined, secretly enjoying his lips and teeth on your skin like this.

He looked at your face, smiling viciously at you.

"I just want people to know you had a good time"

"Yeah, with Brad? I was suppsed to be on a date with him" you teased him, chuckling softly. His expression changed suddenly, he seemed almost angry. His hands let go of your wrists, travelling down your skin as he reached the hem of your panties. His fingers played with the hem of them before slipping in under the thin fabric, the middle finger going between your folds. He could feel how wet you actually were, making him smirk with that cocky smile he had, looking into your eyes. You were holding back a small moan from his touch, looking at his pretty face.

"Can Brad make you this wet baby?" He asked.

You shook your head no, keeping eye contact with him. His middle finger started moving up and down tesing your clit before entering you slowly. This time you couldn't hold back and you moaned, closing your eyes. His smile remained present as he insedted a second finger inside of you, starting to move his hand teasingly slow. Your body squirming underneath him, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, rocking his hips against your leg while he fingered you. You could feel his erection through his boxers, making you even more needy than you already were.

"Parker" you moaned out softly, remembering your hands were actually free and you could move them, immediately attaching to his shoulders, which was the closest body part besides his head. He looked up at you after you called out for him, grabbing your face with his hand and kissing you.

"Peter" you moaned again against his lips, feeling his skin shiver from that. I never considered what effect you actually had on him. "Please, I want to feel you."

After you begged him, he wasted no time pulling your panties down, unressing himself as well. His arms spread your legs forcefully, positioning himself between them. You didn't really manage to follow everything he was doing because you were too eager yourself, pushing up against him in hopes to speed up the process. He pinned you down by the waist, shaking his head in disapproval at your actions. Peter didn't like it when you disobeyed him, even though it was the only thing you were good at doing. He lined himself up to you, teasing you lightly with his tip as a warning before he inserter himself inside, both of you moaning from the act. You felt something like actual electricity when he did that, making you breath heavy from the ecstacy. His hips moved rythmically, along with yours. He was still holding you by the waist, standing on his knees while he fucked into you. You moved your leg up on his shoulder, making him smile and kiss it, one of his hands running up and down it while both of you looked into echother's eyes. You enjoyed the view, so much, his naked toned body, his messy hair, that gorgeous face, your leg on his shoulder while he moved. It was hypnotysing, breathtaking, made your legs shake alone. He could feel you tighthen up around him, making him laugh softly.

"So soon?" he asked, noticing how you started squrming more than in the beginning, legs shaking from time to time, moans becoming more freaquent

"Peter, I'm really close" you managed to say, hands gripping on the sheets around you. His grip on your waist taightened as he went faster and deeper, making you whines more prominent than before. You walls started clenching around him, feeling yourself already starting to cum on him. He placed a hand on your lower stomach, applying slight pressure on it which really sent you over the edge, whole body shaking, heavy breathing and moaning uncontrolablly. He had to hold you down while you came, leaning forward and pecking your lips after you calmed down.

"I need a moment too" he whispered against your lips "Can you handle it for me?"

You nodded, letting him continue rocking his hips into you. You were covered in sweat and so was he, bodies pressed against eachother as he moaned softly in your ear, your legs wrapped around his waist to stop the shaking from the overstimulation.

"Peter" you mumbled against his ear ''I think you're really hot... like, way hotter than I expected''

"Fuck" he replied, pulling out of you and stroking his lenght a few times before he came on your stomach, both of you panting. He lay down next to you for a second, kissing your forehead and hugging you.

"You did so well" he praised you, starting to leave small butterfly kisses all over your face. You laughed softly, cuddling into him.

"We should go take a shower"

"Are you suggesting a second round in your shower?"

"No! Well... maybe, okay, yes"

He laughed at your reply, shaking his head.

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radiance1 · 11 months

Note

Prompt idea: inmortal teen looking Danny, jumping across different dimensions he lands in DC. He quickly become annoyed because the native heroes won't stop trying to adopt him.

Oh and it take some years to Danny to jump to another dimension

*Cracks knuckles*

Alright so this is extremely, very, late. But it shall be DONE!

So, let us start with some BACKGROUND.

Danny is an immortal teen, yes? So then, Danny has outlived every mortal he knows, as in Jack, Maddie, Sam, Tucker, Jazz, everyone.

So when the last person he loved and cared for died (your pick as to whom), he went into the ghost zone to explore to hopefully forget all the pain. He explored the zone, stopping by some of the ghosts he knows before finding a portal, to which he just says fuck it and dives in.

At first he didn't know where he was, but with some digging he came to the conclusion that it's a different dimension and is like neat. So he explores a lil, meets some people, drinks and eats some food.

Y'know, the usual tourist stuff.

So after a few years he had his fill of this new dimension, seeing everything there is to see and all. So he left, finding a conveniently open portal and then goes on to the next.

And the next.

Until one portal, like any other. He pops into a new dimension and expects it to be like all the others, he already had things going on his mind about what it would be.

Perhaps old timey? Maybe Prehistoric even? Oooo, maybe it would be futuristic, those are always fun.

Except it was none of that, in this dimension people have powers and superheroes are actually real.

He was a bit surprised, but easily accepted it.

So there he was, just minding his own business outside of earth's atmosphere, eyeing up the planet to think about where he would visit first, he picked up a lot of languages in his travel, so he doesn't think he'll have a problem where he choses.

So he picks a certain spot to land, some city by the name of Metropolis, only to be met with two people.

A man with a red cape in blue and red spandex, and standing near him is a bat furry in black spandex.

Weird choice but alright, he doesn't judge.

It was when the former turned around- Superman if he remembered correctly, that he felt like he was punched in the gut.

He looked so much like him, so, so much that he thought he was standing- well, more so floating, right there in front of him.

"Dad?"

Danny noticed his mistake after he let it slip, there were some slight differences that his father didn't have, and well, his father is dead and all.

So what did he do to save himself from the embarrassment of mistaking some guy for his dead dad?

He's an adult- practically older than a lot of people actually, even if he looks like a kid. He is mature and will solve this and act accordingly.

He turned invisible and peaced out.

He's sure nothing won't come out of that frankly.

It was just a teeny, tiny slip up.

Something did come out of it, much to Danny's chagrin.

Now he's being followed by these superheroes everywhere for whatever reason and they won't leave him alone when he just wants to sight see.

In a dark and grim city because he was avoiding Metropolis?

Followed by some ninja furries in spandex. (Also what the fuck, why the hell are they so damn sneaky for he almost forgot they were following him-)

He went to New York.

Got found by this random lady who also wouldn't leave him alone.

He escaped to Central City and had a conversation with this guy in red spandex with a lightning bolt of his chest.

Honestly he had a pretty nice time but what is it with Superheroes and spandex?

He wanted to leave, but the portal isn't gonna open again for some undetermined amount of time.

...The universe really likes to fuck him over, don't it?

#dp x dc #Hey so uh #Sorry if this wasn't up to what you wanted #Haven't been in this fandom for a WHILE #But I hope this is good enough?#Or at least somewhat close to what ya wanted #dp x dc crossover

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kolsmikaelson · 6 months

Text

— JACAERYS VELARYON NSFW ALPHABET

— a/n - have a soft spot for jace and heres what came of that :) special tag for @valeskafics bc she encouraged me to write this <3

— warning(s) - 18+ mdni, fem!reader, not proofread

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post!

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

he’s so sweet and soft with you. if he’d been able to take his time with you he calls for a warm bath to be drawn and sits with you pressed against his chest until the water’s gone cold. if you’d been rushed he’d still clean you up with whatever he had or could find and would promise to take his time with you later <33

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

your tits. he loves anything to do with them, laying on them as he’s falling asleep, sucking on your nipples when you’re riding him, leaving hickeys and bite marks all over them. it’s one of his favorite things. his favorite body part of his would probably be his arms, like he can’t get over how strong he is and how easily he can toss you around

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

he loves making you cum and then cumming inside of you and eating you out right after. he loves watching it drip out of you while he kisses at the inside of your thighs before eating you out and making you cum on his tongue again

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

loves people seeing you fuck but especially if it’s someone like aemond or aegon because he sees the way that they look at you and he feels so smug knowing that they can’t have you. except for the once or twice he gives in to you and lets one of them fuck you alongside him

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

not experienced at all. had no clue what he was doing because when he was younger he vowed to himself that because his future wife had to save herself for him that he should do the same for her

F = Favorite position ( goes without saying)

anything that has you on top of him because while he loves being able to throw you around he also loves it when you get dominant with him

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

in the beginning for sure but over time once he learns what he’s doing he’s not as goofy

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

carpet does match the drapes. he’s (surprisingly) quite well groomed. he’s not shaved completely but it’s all very neat down there

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

so so needy. he’s so in love with you and your body it’s like he can’t get enough of you. he’s on the rougher side but he always keeps your pleasure at the front of his mind and doesn’t care nearly as much about his own

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

jacks off so much when you’re just betrothed. he doesn’t want to dishonor you and do anything before the wedding so he keeps to using his hand until then

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

mommy and daddy kink. loves spitting in your mouth and on your pussy. loves choking but would rather be the one getting choked

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere you could get caught. he loves the idea of knowing that someone could turn a corner and find you shoved against a wall being fucked on his cock or on your knees gagging on him. aegon and aemond have both been victims of this and have both ended up fucking you too

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

everything about you gets him turned on. he loves it when you stand up for yourself against anyone but especially alicent or otto. he loves seeing you in red and black. and as basic as this is, he loves seeing you bent over because he usually gets a great view of your ass or your tits

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

there's not much he wouldn’t do honestly. the main thing i can think of is nothing to do with bodily fluids that aren't spit or cum. most other things he would at least consider before deciding

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

jace LOVES giving. he loves fucking your face but loves when you sit on his more. once he gets the hang of things? he’s a fucking god

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

so fast and rough and needy. he feels like he’s been waiting for you and to be able to fuck you for his entire life (you were betrothed for a matter of weeks) he’s like a dog in heat for a good while after getting married but eventually he can control himself more

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

loves them and wants them all the time. just about to leave for dinner? he’s got his fingers up your skirt and fucking into you within seconds. his mother wants to see him? she can wait he needs to fuck you before he goes

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

as long as he knows for sure you won’t get permanently hurt he’s game for a lot of things

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

god he can go for hours. he’ll start out fingering you before he moves on to fucking your face then eats you out and then finally he fucks you. he’ll do that for as long and you both can stand it

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

toys aren’t really a thing but he has heard a thing or two from aegons nights in the street of silk about jade being carved into the shape of a cock for women to use for their own pleasure. as discreetly as possible he has one made in a very similar shape and size as his. he surprises you with it one night and used it on you for what felt like forever

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh he’s the king of teasing you. will do anything to get under your skin

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

he’s not super loud but he’s not super quiet either. he grunts and groans and whimpers more than anything

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

he had one of his best orgasms the time that daemon walked in on the two of you. he stood in the doorway smirking as jace fucked into you

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

pretty nice in length, a bit above average and he has a gif but of girth to him too. it curves to the right just slightly

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

so high. he wants to be inside of you all the time. when he’s away for something rhaenyra needed from him he’s thinking about you as he fists his cock every chance he gets

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

passes out so quick, like within minutes. after all he is just human. after all this hours of taking you apart he’s worn out

dividers by : @.cafekitsune

#◜ caitee’𝗌 works ✎ ˚✧ ꜝ #jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon drabble #jacaerys velaryon headcanons #jacaerys velaryon x you #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon drabble #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon headcanons

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madelynraemunson · 21 days

Note

I’m not sure if you’re taking requests atm but if you are, would you be willing to do an Eddie x reader oneshot/short series based on Sober + Sober II by Lorde? The idea is stuck in my head but I trust you to execute it more than anyone else <3

hngnngh comfort eddie please save me comfort eddie

music is such an important part of life, and a vital part of story-telling in my eyes. so thank you for this!!<3

will you sway with me? go astray with me?

bartender!situationship?eddie x fem!billy's girlfriend!reader

CW: alcoholism, mentions of heavy drinking/alcoholism, fluff, angst, established abusive relationship btwn reader & billy, reader has a bruised face, eddie getting touchy feely; city divider by @emeraldurafreak

WC: 1.4K words

12:00 MIDNIGHT

Oh how fast the evening passes…

“Do I need to cut you off, Munson?”

“Funny. I thought you already did.”

Eddie had been drinking with customers all night and — to his surprise — so have you.

He was shocked to see your face. Especially since you've spent all week avoiding him (and The Hideout) like the plague. For a moment he even thought you ditched him for a cooler bartender and some cooler pub down the way. But the reason behind the week long absence soon registers with Eddie — when he sees the black and blue that decorate your cheekbones, poorly hidden by your blotchy layers of cheap, Dollar General concealer.

God fucking dammit, Eddie thinks to himself. He hit her again.

The grip on his washcloth tightens as he watches you saunter over, looking for your vice to band-aid the problem (like you always fucking do).

Unfortunately as a bartender, it's Eddie's job to deal you some cheap booze, strike up a superficial conversation, and cut you off only when he saw fit. He was to cater to your drinking needs whether he thought it was a good idea or not. And for a while it did start out that way. Until his smitten ass got to know you. Now Eddie always your best interests at heart. And it appears like he's the only one who seems to.

“Your usual, sweetheart?”

“Yes please,” you drunkenly slur. “If you don’t mind...”

He's always going to be more than a bartender to you. And you're more than just a patron to him. Often times, when you get in a fight with your abusive fuck of a boyfriend Billy, you'll find yourself at The Hideout, in the comfort of Eddie's arms, slow dancing to all your favorite songs two hours past closing time while Billy blows up your phone.

A cocktail for disaster for sure.

Eddie knows not to ask. It's a rule in his doctrine pertaining to you, an unspoken loyalty — communicated through swift eye contact — that implies YOU KNOW that EDDIE KNOWS what’s up.

And the more he's gotten to know the complexities of you, the more he's fallen in love.

Despite you breaking all of Eddie's rules about the notion though, Eddie knows that you two could never work. You're gonna keep forgiving Billy. And Eddie will keep picking up the broken pieces... waiting agonizingly long periods here and there wondering if you made it out unscathed or not. It's part of the reason he drinks so much as well, but he'll never admit it. It's a vicious fucking cycle. Eddie's accepted it at this point.

Still doesn’t make it hurt any less. And as much as Eddie wanted to figuratively storm the castle, run up to your tower, and break your ass on out of there, Eddie knows that leaving Billy is ultimately up to you.

The bartender goes to pour you your usual neat shot of "Jack Daniels" while you sit across from him. He's most definitely cutting you off. And when you're as wasted as you are right now, Coca Cola tastes just like liquor.

"Mm!" you cheer as you sip the soda-in-disguise. "Hits the spot. Thank you Eddie."

Amused with himself, he snorts. "Anytime, darlin'."

He goes to clink your glass with his beer bottle, then makes an effort to tell you it's his fourth Wildflower Ale, a sour beer that definitely did not seem like something he would like.

“Odd," you observe. "Always thought you were more of a mead guy.”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

You shrug.

“I dunno…” a flirty hum escapes your lips. “It’s very… medieval times-y. I can picture the knights in shining armor going to their pubs. Grabbin' mead with one another…"

His cheeks a tinted pink now, Eddie chuckles down at the counter.

"Jesting with one another… preparing for battle…"

“I’m a knight in shining armor?” Eddie blushes at you.

You trail off there, hoping that he gets the rest of the picture.

“I should stop talking.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, confused and a little disheartened by the way you shut yourself down simply for explaining yourself again. “No. No, I like when you talk.”

King and Queen of the weekend.

As the last of the five drunks stumble out of the bar, Eddie begins to wrap up his closing, finalizing everything at the register and cleaning up the champagne glasses. You watch him as he pops his hip to the right in attempts to switch on the stereo that he had authority over at the end of every shift.

Atmospheric music sounds through the speakers. Meanwhile, Eddie's enamored eyes trail back over to you.

"I can think of another way to get your mind off things," Eddie smiles. "And they don't involve alcohol. Don't involve talking either if you aren't up for it."

Heat settles at your cheeks "Our usual?"

"On the house," he insists.

He nears you now, extending a hand to you to guide you off the elevated bar stool and safely to the ground.

"M'lady," he jests.

You fall into him almost immediately, giving all of you to him in the form of a long overdue hug. The musky pine and cool mint of his fragrance seduces you, his beer breath strangely giving you the same amount of comfort that a warm blanket would. For the first time in days, you finally felt safe.

There’s a distant gaze in Eddie’s fawning eyes as he stares dreamily at your lips. Grazing the small of your back as you two sway, he allows you to nuzzle your head against the crook of his warm neck.

“I hate when you make yourself small," he croaks against you.

You draw a shaky breath, allowing the music and booze to liquidate into your bloodstream as you continue to melt into Eddie. He squeezes you tighter, delicately resting his chin atop your head.

“I’d ask why you do it, but… I think I know the answer.”

“Yeah," you mumble.

“You guys gotten better?”

"Not exactly."

It eats at him, knowing he can't save you unless you wanted to be. You've always been a regular who drank often, but watching you full on spiral into alcoholism as a form of escape gnawed at Eddie's conscience. Especially since he felt like he was feeding it. The guilt of going behind Billy's back probably consumed you on top of everything else you had to deal with.

But Eddie doesn't know the real reason behind why you drink. You drink to go back in time. Back to when you feel okay. Because every time alcohol touches the tip of your tongue, you're whisked back here. Where you feel most safe. You've broken so many rules to be in the presence of Eddie Munson, but you never regret it when you look back because you've never felt this good when remaining 'compliant'.

The cheeky bartender proceeds to go lower, testing his boundaries as the song continues on by softly squeezing your hips with his calloused hands. A tear escapes his eye, quite possibly due to his fear that he probably won't remember this when he wakes up tomorrow afternoon.

"Just say the word and I'll back off," Eddie says to you.

You swallow hard. "Never."

Eds cracks you another smile before luring you further into his grasp.

“Leave him,” he whispers. “Be with me instead.”

"When I'm ready," is what you end up telling him all the time. It still feels like the very first time whenever you say it though. "And when I'm sober."

That's another thing about rules. They're made to be broken. And no memorable hero was ever well behaved.

You end up staying for a couple of hours again. Billy, for some reason doesn't call, and your brain shuts down the desire to even know why. All you were focused on anyways was Eddie and how safe you felt beside him.

"This never happened?" he questions you, scanning the look on your face for an answer.

"Nope," you shake your head discreetly. "Never."

And when you two sober up, you turn the music off, help Eddie stack the chairs, give him a passionate, grateful peck on the lips before heading out...back to home...back to familiarity.

Eddie watches you leave, taking a long anxious drag of his cigarette as your car drives off. When you're out of sight, he rests a hand over his heart, praying to whatever is out there to make sure that there will be another opportunity dance again in the near future.

We pretend that we just don’t care.

But we care.

What will we do when we’re sober?

#maddy’s mailbox ✨#maddy’s requests 🍸#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #bartender!eddie munson #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

Text

Someone's been leaving you gifts, recently.

'Someone', because you've never once woken up during their little visits and no one you could name would think to be so secretive (or so quiet) if they stopped by, let alone leave before you woke up, and 'gifts' because, to be completely honest, you're not really sure what else to call them. You're not really sure if you want to call them anything, but you don't really have much of a choice.

They're not exactly gifts, anymore, either. They used to be, when it first started, when the most worrying thing you ever found was a dozen roses scattered across your windowsill or a few books you'd left in class left on your doorstep, bound together with a pretty, black ribbon and topped off with a hand-made bow. You'd been a little unnerved, sure, but flattered too, despite the way Ace teased you whenever your not-so-subtle admirer left another container of your favorite chocolates, another hand-written note in neat, swirling cursive tucked inside of your rusted mailbox. It was sweet, if a little over-romantic. You were flattered, even if it did little to spark any fondness in your heart. It was fine.

And then, the gifts started showing up in other places, places they shouldn't have been. In the locker you always use before gym, in your bag when you make it to your first class, in your dorm - obviously, or else you wouldn't be as worried as you are. Grim says it must be magic, that there's no way anyone would ever make it past the door without getting burnt to a crisp by his fire, but that doesn't really matter to you, it doesn't help to calm that bolt of panic you have to swallow back every time you wake up to a bundle of blackened, burnt feathers on the end of your bed. Duece and Jack have offered to spend the night a few times, and Ace and Epel never bother to ask, but you don't really think it helps. The gifts only get worse, more visceral, more likely to be spotted in little, crimson dots and contain certain... things. Sometimes, you can tell what they're supposed to be, and sometimes, they're so eviscerated, so broken down, it's all you can do to tell what's bone and what used to be flesh. Those are the worst ones, the ones that you always have to ask someone else to get rid of. You can take the love letters, the braided flower crowns that make you feel dizzy and exhausted to hold for too long. The dripping, stained cloth bags with something that might've been a bird, once - those are more difficult to stomach.

You've told Malleus, too, if only because he's so charming and so comforting, you can't really help yourself. He seems to think it's another fae student, telling you at-length about courting rituals in Briar Valley and how sacred the gift-giving period is meant to be, to those who still follow such ancient traditions. He's offered to host you in Disomnia, before, to express that you (and Grim, even if Malleus always forgets to mention him) are under his protection, and you've always turned him down, but it's only getting harder and harder to justify trying to weather out your elusive stalker, only feeling less and less safe to stay in a dorm that so clearly wasn't built to protect you from, well, whatever you're dealing with. He's such a good friend, too, and he's always been so willing to help you.

You're sure he'd keep you safe, and more importantly, keep you just a little farther from whoever's been so determined to scare you, lately.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere drabble #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #yandere twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #yandere twst #malleus x reader #yandere malleus #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yanderecore #yancore

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copperbadge · 3 months

Text

[ID: Two images of a flat sewn cloth for reading tarot on; it is essentially a rectangle with tabs on the end. The "outside" is made from tan fabric edged with purple, with a pair of patches sewn on; the inside, where the cards would be kept and laid out for a reading, is a busy checkerboard pattern of black, grey, and orange.]

I've been trying to use up fabric from my stash, and also get better at both sewing and designing my own patterns, so I made a Tarot reading cloth that also carries a couple of decks stylishly and securely. Finished it this morning with the final addition of a couple of patches and the button closure.

The outer fabric is printed with dinosaur fossils and the purple is a replica of the wallpaper from Disney's Haunted Mansion. The inner fabric is skeletons (orange), Ed Emberley cats (grey), bats from an old pair of pajamas (other grey), and a couple of squares of plain orange from an old bedsheet.

[ID: Three detail images; left, a patch of a haunted garden featuring regular plants like carrots and watermelon, along with a skull, a ghost, a jack o'lantern, and several crossed bones; beneath the patch is a subtle buttonhole. Center, a pair of decks, the Fantod Pack by Edward Gorey and the British Gothic Tarot, are sitting in the center of the interior of the reading cloth. Right, the cloth has been wrapped around the decks and buttoned shut; it is a neat purse-like bundle.]

The patch on the front was a gift from a reader years ago who went by Niamh at the time, but that doesn't appear to exist anymore; if you're still reading, I saved it for YEARS so that I could put it on a tarot cloth and finally got to!

I'm pretty pleased with how the thing folds up -- it's not exactly how I wanted it to, but it gets the job done. I might put two more buttonholes into it so that I can fix a strap to the fabric itself, but if I want to carry the pad without a strap (just tucked into a bag) I can, and if I want to have a shoulder strap I can run a strap under the top flap pretty securely (the ends of this strap have D-rings that just hook into each other to make a loop).

[ID: The folded bundle of the cloth has a quilted strap attached, tucked under the upper flap; the strap suspends it from a coat hook on the wall, showing how it would hang from a shoulder.]

Very pleased to have completed a sewing project -- I basically at this point have a basket of half-finished stuff that I'm working through, and it's nice to be able to complete them and either put them to use or give them away.

#crafting #sewing #making #tarot

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shoshiwrites · 13 days

Note

"gamble" or "quiet"? kissing out where nobody can catch them? - for Jo & Egan, of course, because I live the life of an enabler handing you another juicebox 🧃

You are the best, Killy, and thank you to you and @mercurygray for helping me break my little sick-time writer's block ♡ Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3!

close to you

She’d gone with Kay back to London for a few days. Enough time to catch herself up, wire the stories she hadn’t already, knock her head against the wall a few more times over what did and didn’t go through. The damn blue slashes. Black ones too. Hell, a woman at the corner newsstand had showed Jo a letter from a boyfriend, cut into the RAF’s version of a paper snowflake. It fluttered strangely in the humid breeze, in the young woman’s hand.

She’d seen Bill March’s broken arm, sustained in some manner during an air raid, though the correspondent still had his usual cheerful smile for her, and the pallbearers carrying a distant cousin of Kay’s out of the church in Marylebone, all of twenty when his ship had been torpedoed off the coast of Italy.

She’d gotten back to Thorpe Abbotts on a Friday afternoon, the air still soupy, her suitcase with a half-broken latch and her bitten nails, a growing hole in her last pair of stockings.

It wasn’t raining. Maybe that counted for something.

Trousers then, and maybe she was optimistic, thinking she felt the air cooling a bit around her. There were small scraps of blue sky, like she’d found them in the bottom of her mother’s rag bin. Calico up in the firmament.

The coffee’s warm, if bitter, she hardly pays attention to that now. A few Clubmobile women cleaning trays in the kitchen take pity on her and sneak her a donut. She dips, sloshes, remembers the good old days of milk and cream, and wanders back outside, wondering if she’d made a mistake in coming here straight from London. Her room is still hers in Norwich. Mrs. Fitzgerald had made sure she knew that. It’s a kindness she doesn’t quite have the words for.

She’ll stay in the Clubmobile quarters tonight, on the extra cot. She’d left a book in Crosby’s care last week and he’d returned it to Tatty Spaatz, a piece of stationery stuck in the middle with neat, if hurried, observations. His handwriting reminds her of Evie’s, the block print of a planner.

“Major Egan will be happy to hear you’re back,” Tatty says, and there’s almost a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, her lipstick the color of red wine.

Jo hardly keeps stone-faced, a little scrunch somewhere between a question and an acknowledgement, distaste and curiosity. “I haven’t seen him,” she says.

They yawn, the seconds between the conversation outside and when he’s walking, seeing her, redirecting his path. His eyes look like he’s been squinting in low light, the mask-marks raw across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He’d come out of his office. Post-mission administration, she thinks. Letters home. He writes them longhand, someone had told her. He’s never spoken about it. She’s never asked him.

And she’s not sure happy is the word she’d use, right now. But Tatty knows what she said. Happy is on the ground. A girl smiling at you. The smell of her hair, clean.

The question comes on an exhale, the tie loosened around his neck. “You wanna go for a walk?”

It feels faintly ridiculous, the way she’s not used to being asked. And it’s faintly ridiculous too, the way propriety and a respectful difference between his boots and her lace-up shoes becomes a sneak-around, a glancing journey to the far edge of the airfield, the side of an outbuilding backed by trees.

Maybe he wants something else, she thinks. Another jigger of whiskey, playing cards on the table, chips or dice or jacks. Someone else. Someone who lets him forget.

He kisses her before they’ve even stopped moving, as she rounds the corner in the half-tall grass.

She hasn’t snuck around like this in — god — she can’t remember. Years.

She can’t remember the last time she’s been kissed like this. A sunlit kitchen, softer. Before the leather interiors of fancy cars and class rings. She never thought it could be dressed like this, callused hands and muscle. The flutter of tiny wings falls still. A fly buzzes around their ankles; she can hear it between the sounds of his mouth, breath hot between them.

She can feel that little swatch of damp at the small of her back, the feeling of her hipbones beneath the wool of her trousers. He breaks away to kiss the side of her mouth, the short hairs of his mustache brushing her upper lip.

John, she wants to say, but maybe she can help it, the desperate act of naming him. It all sticks in her throat, like a glob of too-soft caramel. Hardening. John, John, John. “Afternoon, Major.”

He looks like he’s trying to decide something, kisses her again by her nose while he does. She’ll do the same if he’ll let her, the cuts of the oxygen mask and the freckles she can see in the light. “Afternoon, Captain.”

#masters of the air oc #mota oc #john egan x oc #bucky egan x oc #title from listening to the sinatra vdiscs while writing #not to be confused with the carpenters #i mean. you could. it would be fine also.#i've had a really fun cold for the better part of a week so this may be a little....interesting. but i'm feeling a lot better!#hope people enjoy <3 #motaverse #jo's tag #anyway!#shoshi writes

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her-storybooks · 2 years

Text

Self-Made: Aaron Hotchner and Y/N

Summary: Prompt – Making Something For Someone Else. The BAU gets a visitor who tares through the bullpen and leaves everyone in puddles of mush and exploded hearts. Be Warned: Major Fluff ahead! Author's Notes: When I tell you this made me broody, you better believe it.

The squeal from Penelope was what alerted Y/N to the visitor in the BAU. She jumped up and down excitedly making Y/N laugh and turn in her chair.

“Baby Hotchner!” Garcia gushed, opening arms as Jack leaped from his father’s embrace and into magical Aunty Penelope’s cuddles.

“Well, hey there little man!” Morgan greeted, rustling Jack’s hair as Penelope picked him up.

“Hi.” He greeted in his small cheeky voice.

“I thought it was your day off?” Y/N raised an eyebrow as Hotch walked into the bullpen in his jeans and t-shirt.

“Jack wanted to come and say hi.” He shrugged.

“Or you wanted to come and check up on us, and you’re using your sweet innocent son as an excuse.” Y/N jibed as she crossed her arms.

“I am offended at the suggestion.” Hotch grumped falsely. “I’ll have you know; Jack and I were busy all morning making something very special for you all.” Hotch’s hand appeared from behind his back, presenting a large paper bag with mystery goodies inside.

“Presents!” Garcia beamed as she tickled Jack’s sides. He laughed ferociously as he wriggled out of her trap and ran over to his dad.

“I want to give them out!” he ordered his dad.

“Okay, okay.” His dad hushed pulling out the first wrapped box and handing it to his son. “You remember where Miss Jereau’s office is?”

“Miss Jereau?” his son scrunched his face.

“Henry’s mum.” Aaron reminded him, confused at his son’s forgetful memory.

“That’s not her name!” Jack laughed. “You mean Aunty JJ! Silly Daddy!” Jack giggled and began sprinting up the stairs to JJ’s office.

“My mistake.” Hotch chuckled as he watched his son run off.

“He’s so cute!” Garcia continued to fuss, pressing her palms to her chest as if her heart was going to escape.

“He’s beautiful.” Y/N smiled at Hotch. She had been at the BAU for almost 9 months now but was still yet to meet the Mini Hotchner.

“Thank you,” Aaron smiled sincerely.

“Get him in a suit and he’s going to be a real heartbreaker like his dad.” Morgan teased, waggling his eyebrows not so subtly at Y/N.

“Dad!” Jack shouted from the top of the stairs. “I need Uncle Dave’s gift!” Hotch rolled his eyes playfully and carried the bag over to his son. Y/N stood and watched with a blush across her chest as she watched Hotch in ‘Dad Mode.’ She played with the necklace around her neck absent-minded as Hotch lifted the small, wrapped box with one hand, passing it over the railings to his son.

“Oh, I know that face!” Garcia sang.

“What?” Y/N questioned as she noticed Garcia’s and Morgan’s teasing smiles at her.

“Someone’s swooning.” Morgan playfully flicked Y/N’s necklace out of her hands before she batted his hands away.

“I am not!” she scolded him!

JJ left her office, walking calmly down the stairs with her opened box in her hands. She joined the others with a bright smile on her face.

“Have you seen this?” she laughed happily.

“No! What is it?” Garcia begged. JJ lifted from the box a large pink pompom ball with googly eyes and blonde strands of string poking out from the top to form hair. In felt-tip, Jack had drawn JJ’s necklace gifted to her by her sister when she was little. Little popsicle sticks had been cut into small pieces and painted to become shoes glued to the bottom.

“Oh, My God!” Y/N beamed and melted.

“That is so cute!” Garcia laughed.

“What I tell you? Boy’s gonna have game!” Morgan chuckled, sitting himself down on Y/N’s chair and resting his feet on her desk. Y/N frowned and pushed his feet off her desk.

“Whoah!” Rossi’s loud roar came from his office as Jack presented him with his own gift! Rossi ran Jack out of his office, using his own pompom figure to scare and chase him. The pompom was bright orange, with curly black hair plopped on top! The PomPom had neat brown popsicle stick shoes and a miniature Italia flag poking out from the side. Jack squealed with joy as he ran down the steps and leaped into his father’s arms. The bullpen was alight with laughter as the Hotchner boys and Rossi re-joined the group by Y/N’s desk.

“Please, Please, tell me I’m next to get my gift?” Penelope whined to Jack who continued to giggle.

“Daddy, can I have Aunty Penelope’s gift now?” Hotch pulled out a sparkly pink box with bright neon ribbon wrapped around it, delighted in how Garcia’s face transformed into genuine shock. She made baby grabby hands, desperate to see her little PomPom figure. When she pulled it out, it was as extravagant as her. It was bright purple with multi-colored hair and fashionable pink glasses. Jack had drawn on bright red lipstick and covered the feet in as much glitter as possible. Garcia attacked Jack with kisses and tickles whilst Aaron passed a box to Morgan. Morgan’s green PomPom didn’t have any hair on the top but had bushy black eyebrows sitting on top of the googly eyes. Black shades had been attached to the top of the PomPom, easily taken off, and placed on the googly eyes.

“Look at that!” Morgan laughed. “The most handsome PomPom in the land!”

Tutting and laughter bounced across the agents until Jack crawled up to his father’s side and tugged on his shirt. He motioned for his dad to crouch down to his level and whispered something in his ear. Hotch looked at his son seriously and nodded firmly. He reached into the bag and pulled out a small blue box with flowers doodled on the side with a white pen. Jack held the box carefully as if it was a bomb about to go off. He slowly crossed the circle and stood in front of Y/N.

“Are you Y/N?” He asked nervously. Y/N smiled kindly and crouched down to the boy’s level.

“I am!” She whispered as if the two were having a private conversation. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jack. You’re Dad has told me lots of amazing things about you!” Jack blushed as he presented the box to Y/N. “For me?” he nodded enthusiastically and stepped back, watching as Y/N opened the box. Very slowly and carefully Y/N pulled out a light blue PomPom figure with googly eyes and a little cardboard crown glued to the top of her Y/H/C thread hair.

“Daddy said you have Y/H/C hair, sparkling Y/E/C eyes, and are as pretty as a queen! That’s why I gave you a crown.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat to a rosy red and her chest tightens immediately. “Do you like it?” Y/N looked up at Aaron and noticed how he too was bright red, refusing to meet her eye. Y/N smiled and leaned forward, pressing a sweet kiss to Jack’s cheek.

“I love it.” She whispered. Jack giggled and blushed just as hard as Y/N. He ran to his dad’s side and hid his face behind his dad’s back. Y/N stood up from the ground and placed her mini-PomPom proudly on the top of her desk shelf, safe and protected from the ground below. She managed to pull her eyes towards Hotch and meet his gaze. “Thank you.” She mouthed silently. Hotch nodded and smiled bashfully before picking up his son.

“Come on, let’s go find Emily and Reid.”

The Hotchner boys walked away, in search of the next lucky reciprocates of their gifts. Y/N stared deeply at Hotch’s back as he carried Jack, the two boys laughing and smiling with one another as they talked.

“Oh yeah,” Morgan broke the silence, patting his hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “Definitely swooning.”

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