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mariasont · 25 days

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Negotiating with Mr. H - pt. 2

a/n: part two to this

god im such a shluuuut for this man anyhow happy reading

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!nanny!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, unprotected p in v (DONT DO THAT, boo tomatoes), use of sir and mr. hotchner in bed, dirty talk, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, honey, etc.), idk im terrible at warnings

wc: 2k

The hours had stretched into days since you all but threw yourself at Mr. Hotchner. The morning after unfolded with him dodging your company as if you were a wildfire, claiming a day at the zoo with Jack as a shield, yet you saw it as a deliberate distance he put between you. No sooner had they returned, the call for a case arrived. Typical.

But you found no room for embarrassment within yourself; you had played your hand, and he had been receptive, at least so you thought. If he had changed his mind, that was within his right; still, you wished he'd say something about it.

Your fingers tenderly combed through Jack's hair, the soft strands slipping between them, as you gently closed the book, careful not to wake him. He had a nightmare, but you soothed away the scary bits with 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar', as you coaxed him back to sleep. It was his go-to comfort read--and secretly, yours too. You eased your legs over the edge, each step a muted brush against the carpet. You flicked off the light, the soft thud of the book on the nightstand, and you stepped into the hallway--the door sealing behind you softly.

You moved with soft steps towards your room, hands outstretched as they found the doorknob, pushing it open with the slightest pressure. You froze mid-step, the distinct click of the front door's latch piercing the silence. Subconsciously, a plan formed in your mind, as if waiting for this cue. You made a beeline for the closet, fingers flying as you shimmied into your favorite panties and a cropped white long sleeve that highlighting your stiffening nipples. Listening intently for the sound of his footsteps, you slid under the sheets, the door left invitingly open, your legs peeking out as if by chance.

Was this wrong? Certainly, but the blood rushing to your cunt didn't care. You were acutely aware of each groan from the wooden steps under his weight as he made his way upstairs, and you could almost catch the hush of his breath as he lingered at Jack's room, the door's creak broadcasting his quiet check.

You snapped your eyes shut, the sound of his nearing steps triggering an automatic response. You knew he'd have to pass your room to get to his. Every sense tingled to life as his footsteps hesitated at your door. Even with your back facing him, you felt his eyes roam over you, his breath turning heavy, hanging in the air.

You exhaled a shaky breath, feeling it vibrate through the stillness as he continued on to his room. The urge to swear was heavy on your tongue, the realization dawning that your plan had left no impression on him. You turned restlessly, feeling the bite of your failed efforts. Yet, when you propped yourself up, there he was--Mr. Hotchner, standing motionless in the doorway.

"Oh, Mr. Hotchner! I--I didn't realize you were home. How was the case?" Your question floated on a note higher than usual, yet you made no move to hide your body from him, welcoming the observation.

"Really? You didn't hear me? I could have sworn I heard movement in your room as I came in," he remarked, his piercing gaze locking onto you as he casually propped himself against the frame of the door.

"Movement? Could've been the wind," you suggest, your smile bright and inviting, arms falling away to give him a full display of your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

His response is brief, a deliberate blink, a silent count to ten, before his gaze sharpens, a frown forming as he closes the distance between you, the door shutting behind him. "The wind, huh?" he echoed, "I've been neck-deep in a nightmare of case, and this is what I come home to?"

You maneuver closer, your legs now casually exposed as you perch on the bed's edge. "What's wrong, Mr. Hotchner? Don't appreciate the view?"

His presence fills the space by your bed. "The view," he begins, his eyes taking a leisurely journey from your exposed legs up to meet your gaze, "is more than agreeable."

You hand snakes out, catching the silk of that god damn tie, drawing him closer. "Well. Mr. Hotchner, aren't you going to do something about this agreeable view?" you challenge, eyes wide and expectant.

Assertively, he captures your chin, his thumb brushing your cheek. "You should know by now, I'm very much a man of action."

He leans down, a predator claiming his willing prey, and his mouth captures yours in a kiss that sends a surge of electricity through your veins, your fingers curling into the fabric of his suit as if the meld him into you. The way his lips were attached to yours sent shockwaves straight to your core, hands moving from his lapels to his hair.

"Didn't think you had it in you, Mr. Hotchn--," you mumbled against his mouth, but you were swiftly cut off as his teeth dug into your bottom lip.

"The next time you say my name, it's going to be when my cock is buried so deep inside you that you can't form anything else but that name."

And in that moment, you could've sworn you'd never felt desire until he said those words. He began to trail sloppy kisses up your neck, your head arching back, surrendering to the sweet attention he lavished upon the column of your throat. There was a quiet authority in his actions, as he parted your thighs, his fingers grazing closer to your clothed cunt as his other hand pushed you flat against the bed.

A gasp fluttered from your lips, a delicate sound of shock. You would've never pegged him to be like this in bed. So fucking demanding. Your thighs instinctively sought each other, but his large hand held them apart, keeping you open, vulnerable.

You looked up at him with doe eyes, wide and brimming with lust, and it reflected a beauty so intense he was sure it could halt time. He was sure he must've done something right in this life to be privileged enough to see you like this—so submissive despite your big talk, so eager to please. It sent a rush to every part of his body, specifically his cock which stretched against his dress pants, begging to be released.

He wanted to take his time, to worship your body in the way it deserved, but there was nothing slow or soft about his movements. His hands explored every inch of your body as if he'd been touch starved his whole life.

"Pl-Please, sir, please touch me," you begged, your hips bucking against the graze of his hands.

The word 'sir' triggered a slight twitch in his cock, his voice a throaty rumble. "Feel that? I'm touching you, honey," he teased, his touch a tantalizing drag against your skin, inching your shirt upward, a smug smile etched on his handsome face.

"You know what I mean," you insisted, your hand intertwining with his in a silent plea, guiding them to where you wanted.

"I can't read your mind, sweetheart," he chides softly, his touch retreating teasingly, "be a good girl and tell me where you want me to touch you."

Your mind was going blank, so desperate for him you could almost feel your arousal leaking down your thighs.

"Here?" he questioned, his hands coming to rest on your ankles as he propped them on the edge of the bed, leaving your legs spread wide in front of him. You shook your head in response, a whine leaving your lips, "or here," he said, his hands moving up to your thighs.

You wiggled in his grip. "Mmm, getting closer aren't I?" he taunted, "use your words pretty girl, tell me how to help."

"Mr. Hotchner, please, need you inside me," your words were more slurred than you intended, sitting up to lock your hands behind his neck, your breath fanning his.

"You don't need it, you want it," he corrected, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear, his arm a steady band across your back, pulling you closer. "However, lucky for you, I'm inclined to be generous."

His hands eased you back towards the bed, your hands fingering through his hair as he made quick work with your underwear before tapping your shirt. "Take this off honey."

Without hesitation, you complied, flinging it carelessly to the bed's opposite edge, shifting to prop yourself up on your elbows.

"God, you're so beautiful."

The words seemed to empty your lungs of air, your face turning a delicate shade of pink as you beamed at him, your smile sticky with sweetness. His fingers found your nipples, teasing and tugging as you let out soft little whimpers, arching into his touch.

"Feels so good, sir," you moaned, hands digging into the sheets, leaning towards him to close the distance between you two, your lips seeking his in a tender collision.

You could sense his mouth curve into a silent smirk against yours as his hands moved with unhurried intent to your swollen clit, eliciting an involuntary gasp from you as you writhed on the mattress. You could hear his other hand undoing his belt as his continued his leisurely movements against your cunt. In a smooth, practiced motion, he pulled out his cock from his pants.

Your mouth parted slightly at the length of it, and you had to fight off the urge to drool at the sight. Thankfully he didn't make you beg for it, sliding into you with an ease that made your head fall back against the mattress.

"Shit," he hissed, his hands finding a natural perch upon the gentle swell of your hips. "You're so wet, honey. How long have you wanted this? Hmm?"

"S-So long," you muttered, a moan pausing your sentence, "wanted you for so long."

"I know, pretty girl," he murmured, his words interlaced with the obscene sound of his length pounding in and out of your drenched pussy.

"Feels so good, Mr. Hotchner."

He let out a soft groan in response, his hands tangling through your hair. Your name rolled off his tongue as you clenched around him. He had to move his hands to the bed beside your head, trying to resist the urge to absolutely destroy you.

Your moans heightened with each thrust causing his hand to fly over your mouth, eyes rolling back to your head. "Need you to be quiet, honey. You can do that for me can't you?"

You nodded desperately against his palm, hands reaching out to close around his shoulders as you moved to meet his thrusts, the familiar coil beginning to wind in your core.

"I know you're close, sweetheart. Need you to hold on just a little longer."

He let out a breathy chuckle at your body's reaction, desperately bucking against him. Hotch revealed in the sound of your pussy squishing around him, so wet you're practically soaking his dress pants.

Your slur his name as he reaches between you, his thumb rubbing feverishly at your clit. "Go ahead, honey, cum for me."

His words were all you needed, gushing around his cock as he continued to fuck you through your high. He let out a strangled groan of his own, pumping you full of his cum. His large body slumped against yours, his head ducking into the crook of your neck as you both attempted to catch your breath.

He slowly lifted off of you, tucking his cock back into his pants as moved to grasp your ankle, rubbing comforting circles over the skin.

"Tell me, was that personal bonus sufficient for you?"

Your giggle, light and airy, filled the space as you gingerly lifted yourself, hands laying a gentle claim on his chest, your smile blooming across your lips. It was in this moment he knew he would do anything to keep you like this--content, utterly fucked and next time in his bed.

"Well, I can't say for sure, Mr. Hotchner," you admit, your kiss on his cheek lingering a moment longer. "I work really hard around here, maybe another round would satiate me."

"I don't know think anything would satiate you, honey."

"Maybe so, but isn't it tempting to see if something can?"

"Undoubtedly."

taglist: @mrs-ssa-hotch

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchenr imagine #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch #Spotify

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lifelovemusiq · 9 months

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yamujiburo · 4 months

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Headcannons (some may be canon for ur au, idk my memory sucks. And some are just in general):

- Delia fell first Jessie fell harder

- Jessie has a giant Ekans plush that she curls around her when she sleeps.

- Delia didn’t know Jessie had smth like that and fainted when she saw a big ass snake in the bed after Jessie moved in.

- Ash still can’t tell when Jessie and James get in costumes, even after Jessie and Delia have been married for years.

- Ash thought Jessie and James just didn’t come to Delia’s Halloween party one year near the start of Jessie and her relationship, but they were just in a costume.

- Jessie, James, and Meowth are naturally statically(?) charged bc of how many times they’ve been thunderbolted

- Delia regularly takes home leftovers from her work to Jessie as a gift

- Delia eventually becomes not as scared of snake Pokémon, after being around so many bc of Jessie

- Jessie makes accessories and the occasional outfit for Delia as a gift

- Meowth and Pikachu fight over Jessie for pets sometimes

- Jessie and Delia go to aquariums for dates

- Jessie randomly drops lore about her life to Ash like a dad would do

- Jessie still does contests and Delia is her #1 fan

- Jessie helps out at Delia’s work if it’s busy enough, even if she isn’t asked

- Jessie, James, and Meowth all still make mottos together. Unplanned

- Delia likes to mess with Jessie’s hair, wether it’s styling, combing, or just playing with it.

-Jessie smells like cherries while Delia smells like flowers and vanilla (Pink flowers to be specific, even tho pink doesn’t have a scent.)

these are all so cuuuute

#ask yam

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trulyhblue · 3 months

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Way To My Heart

Jessie Fleming x Reader

warnings: period/menstrual pains, nausea, period guilt?? (idk how u would put it), fluff, hurt/comfort, coarse language.

thank you for the inspo!!! @jessiebronze2 <3

A/N — not all periods are the same!! Also, bit of a short one today

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You couldn't remember the last time you had comfortably moved without feeling the notion of your stomach twisting in the most ridiculing pain.

You always struggled with your period. It was something you had never seemed to get used to as the years went on. No amount of medication could soothe the pain that you felt. Nothing could cure the cramps, the migraines, and everything in between.

It was days of endless, excruciating torture that nothing could eradicate.

Except for your girlfriend.

You and Jessie met at UCLA, where you were studying for your degree, while she multitasked the confronting challenge of being a student-athlete. Everyone could see the talent the Canadian possessed from a mile away, and you were lucky enough to witness her growth throughout the years that she had prospered. While you weren't a football fan growing up, the fondness you felt for the girl must've coerced you to find some enjoyment in the game — though you must admit, the most rewarding part of watching the sport was actually watching your ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Jessie had felt reluctant to leave for training that morning. The early morning chill made a perfect excuse for your girlfriend to cuddle up to your side. There were many instances when Jessie would find herself begrudgingly peeling away from your sleepy figure with a scowl on her face. Training was hard work, full of sweat and grind. She loved it, of course, but she often had trouble shaking the image of you in bed, snuggled into a mound of blankets and pillows instead of her.

The Canadian was the same this morning, except she noticed a subtle change in the furrow of your eyebrows. The crease was pained. It was deep with exhaustion, and your body was curled up into a ball, feigning your figure into the smallest confinement it could muster. Beads of sweat peaked at your hairline, your skin a few hues paler than normal.

Jessie wisped the hairs that had fallen in your sleep away from your face, opening the windows in hopes that fresh air would calm your heated cheeks. At first, she thought you had a fever, or maybe even a cold. Both of you adapted to the London whether easy enough, save for the few times when a virus would spread through the city — that was where neither of you could fight it off. As hesitated by her closest, contemplating whether to call in and say she was unable to attend.

She watched as you tossed and turned, pulling on her training gear in an endeavour to fix her conscience off of you. She knew that if you found out she cancelled training for you, it’d only make your mood worse. You were as stubborn as each other. It was when you stirred from your sleep, feeling the drop of your stomach hurl your eyes open, that Jessie climbed over the duvet to you.

“Are you okay?” She asked, combing your hair softly. You clutched your stomach upon instinct, pulling taunt on the sheets beneath you.

“I'm on it.”

It took her less than a second to comprehend what you meant. Her eyes widened, unbeknownst to you, and shielded the bright light that streamed through the curtains away from you.

“Oh, baby,” she muttered, running her hand down your arm. “What can I do?” She shuffled to your side, maneuvering your body onto her chest, sighing at the way your body complied with her movements like putty.

“Just this is okay,” you replied solemnly, closing your eyes. Jessie made sure to keep her breathing balanced, using as much concentration as possible to keep her body still. The two of you stayed like that for a while, until you moved your head up with a wince, noticing the Chelsea logo adorned on your girlfriend's shorts.

“You need to go, Jess.”

The look on Jessie’s face told you all you needed to know. She must've forgotten all about training, bound by the comfort of your body pressing into her own, and pursed her lips together to show her contention to the statement.

You huffed, lifting your body to move back to your side of the bed. “C’mon Jessie Baby, you’ll be la—”

Your balance was shaky, your arms lacking the strength to hold you up for long. Jessie pulled you back into her chest, wrapping her arms over you, her hands resting on your arse and thighs.

“You're sick,” she stated, swaying you back and forth. The movement was comforting enough for the aches in your body. “I can stay, y’know. They let us stay.”

“Don't lie, Fleming, I swear to God.” You retorted, using all your strength to push yourself back against the sheets. The woman looked at you with the utmost concern. Her eyes were beady and broad, empathy scattered across the constellation of freckles dotted across her cheeks.

“You are going to training, Jess.”

Jess took her time in replying, hoping the silence would make you rethink your decision. She would love nothing more than to shower you with praise and affection. She’d make you breakfast without you getting out of bed, then run you a bath so that your muscles would ease from the heat.

She’d bring you whatever you wanted whether that was chocolate, ice cream, cuddles, kisses — anything. In times like this, she was completely at your will. But on the other hand, she knew you had made up your mind. Jessie loved football, you thought. You weren't going to make her stay home for you, especially when you were experienced with this sort of pain prior to now.

So that's how you were left to yourself for most of the day.

Jessie left reluctantly after ten minutes getting the rest of her things. She made sure to bring you in some food and multiple heat packs before she ran out the door, already inevitably late. You stayed in bed for the most part, finding yourself huddled into a ball with your phone in front of you. After a while, a recurring, dull discomfort flared in your head, and you weren't able to scroll aimlessly on social media due to the light sending hurt across your face.

Jessie sent you hourly questions, asking if you were okay or if you were feeling any better. She was talking to Niamh about her worry for you when Emma sent the Canadian around the field for being late. Niamh told her the best thing for you was Jessie herself, which unfortunately sent a new wave of guilt through the woman as she moved through drills.

By a little after noon, you were feeling hungry, but your body was not equipped to get itself out of bed in search of anything to soothe your hunger. Instead, you drank the rest of the water next to your bed, the thought of Jessie being home soon sending you into a comforting sleep.

It didn't last long though. You sent upwards, a wave of nausea overtaking your senses. You had only just made it to the toilet in time, sitting in the bathroom, by the toilet, in silence.

You were dazed, fatigued, and hungry — not a good mix for a woman. You wanted to be productive — the apartment was in ruins, and there was so much you could be doing instead of lazing about on the floor of your bathroom feeling sorry for yourself. You hated that Jessie would come home from a rough day at training to a messy house and the burden of taking care of you.

The thought almost made you laugh — you would've if your body would've allowed it — Jessie would be appalled if she heard those words come out of your mouth. The woman was endlessly caring, sympathetic and kind. She always made sure you were okay, even if she was having issues of her own. Your relationship was a saving grace for both of you. Together, you built each other up in all different ways. You moulded as a couple but also as friends. You laughed, played and talked like you had known each other forever, even if you had only met her in college. You complimented each other in ways no one else could. If she had heard you call yourself a burden, you’d be in for it.

Jessie loved you in ways you couldn't comprehend. Turns out, you felt the same for her.

You were too stuck in your own thoughts to hear the front door open, or the way your girlfriend announced her arrival. You stirred by the toilet, only looking up when the bathroom door swung open, revealing your girlfriend in all her glory, holding a handful of flowers and chocolate.

“Oh, baby,” Immediately, she placed all the things down, kneeling by your side to scoop you up into a hug. “You’re okay. I'm so sorry you're feeling like this.”

You weren't crying, but the overwhelming sensation of Jessie with you was overstimulating. You weren't usually this sentimental, but the way Jessie picked you up, placing you gently on the bed with a wet cloth over your head. She slipped off your shirt and replaced it with a new one of her own. You listened to her with your eyes shut, hearing she hurried shuffle across the room.

When she met you with cuddles, you knew she had changed from the sweatpants and jumper she had replaced her training kit for. You engulfed her scent, letting it soothe the dryness in your throat.

The two of you were slowly breathing in each other’e ambience when Jessie finally spoke, her whisper sending shivers down you ear.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” Her breath fanned over your neck. “You're my favourite person in the whole world.”

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doubleca5t · 11 months

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ok what is your haircare routine tho, your hair texture looks so similar to mine and its absolutely gorgeous

- wash once a week with design essentials almond & avocado shampoo and conditioner. do not go light on the conditioner.

- for the other six days of the week, rinse and detangle your hair in the morning, but don't put in any shampoo (you can do a little conditioner if you want but it's not necessary). do not use a comb to detangle, just run your fingers through your hair while it's soaking wet until they pass through without tangling

- every day: after you get out of the shower, while your hair is still wet, pour out a generous glob of the garnier fructis coconut air dry curl cream and spread it throughout your hair. You should put as much of it as possible on the ends of your hair and less and less product the closer it gets to your scalp.

- after the curl cream, take a small dollup of miss jessie's pillow soft curls gell and spread it out evenly through your hair. I apply some extra to the top of my head to prevent frizz and to keep my style in tact when it's windy but that's optional

- dry by scrunching your curls into a cotton tshirt. If you hear a really gross, wet noise when you do this, that means you did everything correctly. do this until as much excess moisture is off your hair as possible. once it's not dripping all over you anymore, you should leave it alone and let it air dry. don't even bother blow drying it's not worth the effort

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trebuchetdoctor · 11 months

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I know the Titan submarine incident is very tragic, but not only was there so many safety issues and bad choices, but the mythbusters warned about underwater pressures back in 2009.

I’ve never seen a better example of “you should have seen this coming”

Still Rip to the people involved, a horrid way too go.

Also RIP to Grant Imahara and Jessi Combs, who both tested the deep sea diving myth. (Episode Titled “Dumpster Diving”)

#titanic #submarine #missing submersible #mythbusters #pmseymourva #shower thoughts #oh no #titan submersible #titan submarine

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lavalamp-juice · 1 year

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Hi! Just a Mario Fic based on posts from @zootopiathingz and @jessadamsdraws , thanks for the inspo!

It had been about a 6 months since the Mario Brothers started living in the mushroom kingdom, it had been nice but a pretty big change from Brooklyn.

The air quality was much different, the people were nicer and the abundance of nature and different technology was something to get used to. The brothers had been working for Toads homes but they mainly worked for the castle and there was lots of work to be done. It is a very big castle after all.

While getting their tools and uniforms on Luigi had noticed Mario looking in the mirror a lot more than usual and pacing back and forth. Combing his hair over and over again, Luigi found it strange.

Mario and Peach had some sort of spark since the first time they met. They had never really brought it up to each other, this made both Peach and Mario wonder if the other liked them like *that*. Luigi had figured out they had crushes on each other fairly easily but today he was going to get all the confirmation he needed.

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

When Luigi finally got Mario to stop looking in the mirror they warp-piped to the Castle. Peach and two guards were waiting for them at the front gate. Of course she had many Toads working for her she didn't need to greet them or explain what work needed to be done. She saw it as a way of giving thanks for helping her defeat Bowser and well she just liked spending time with them, especially Mario. Some days she couldn't get him off her mind, how heroic and kind he was. Today was one of those days. She saw the brothers jump out of the warp pipe and walk towards the castle. She got butterflies🦋 but could keep her composure.

"Hey princess how are ya?"Mario asked.

"Hi!, good as usual" she said smiling.

Her smile was always so genuine and sweet Mario thought.

"How about you guys?" she asked.

"Good" both of them answered at the same time.

Peach giggled and gestured to follow her.

Luigi noticed how red Mario would get when he was with her.

She had led them to a guest bathroom, where the sink faucet was leaking a bit

"We'll get it fixed in no time" Luigi assured her.

"Take all the time you need"

He went inside the bathroom to get started while Mario and Peach were chatting outside the door, Luigi overhearing. They were laughing and reminiscing on their adventure to the Jungle Kingdom.

Mario somehow always had something witty to say, Luigi found it strange since he had never been good with women back home. There was just something different about their relationship.

"Well I wont keep you, some toads will have some snacks in the Dining Hall when you done!"

Mario thanked her and joined Luigi under the sink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were just about finished, they just needed to make sure the sink worked properly. They both stood up and Luigi wanted to test out his theory and wanted to tease his brother a bit, what else were little brothers for?

Hand in pockets Luigi playfully rolled his eyes and said "We all know you have a crush on *her*"

Mario, taken a back by his abrupt comment scrunched up his shoulders and thoughts raced through his mind. "I don't want Luigi to know about my crush! Gosh I wouldn't hear the end of it. Anyways it's not like I ever plan on would ever telling her! That was farthest thing he wanted to do. She was a princess after all! Who would want someone like him..." he thought.

"I do not have a crush on Peach" Mario waved his hand and dismised.

Luigi raised his eyebrow and smugly looked at his brother. Knowing he had fallen right into his trap...

Mario turned and asked "What??"

Luigi still with his smug look smiled and teased "I never said who."

Mario turned as red as his shirt in disbelief.

How could I have said that?! He thought.

They both laughed and without a moment to lose he playfully jumped on Luigi's back " Listen here you little jerk!" Mario couldn't stop laughing at the fact his own brother tricked him like that!

Peach had heard the commotion while walking down the hall.

So she came around with a smile and peered through the door "What are you two up to?"

Luigi with Mario on his back happily replied "Oh! Just teasing him about his cru- "

"I hurT MY FOOT AND HE'S GIVING ME A RIDE!" Mario's voice cracking, interrupted him. He was a terrible liar. He could feel how red his face was, he could barely get his thoughts straight.

"uh.... okay." Peach awkwardly answered.

A very long 3 seconds of silence passed by.

"So uh.. You two almost done? To join me for afternoon tea and the snacks?"

"Yup, i- uh yes" Mario still embarrassingly stuttered. He got down from Luigis back.

"We will be there in just a moment Princess we just need to finish up, thank you" Luigi answered still smirking.

Peach nodded and walked away. "Something about a crush" she thought. She wondered if it could be her but alas that was only wishful thinking. "Probably someone back from their world." she sighed under her breath.

Luigi tested out the sink while Mario had his hands over his face.

"Is it really that obvious?" Mario asked, muffled by his hands.

"Ehhh yes... And no. But you just confirmed it for me. I was about 80% sure before ehehe." Luigi answered.

"Gosh- do you think that she uh... She-"

"Likes you? Yeah bro I'd say so. You're a great guy!"

"Really... Huh, I'd really hope so. "

Luigi patted Mario on the back.

"It'll all work out. You'll see. Now c'mon let's go join her for tea"

"Alright" Mario said, the redness in his face had died down a bit.

On their way to the Dining Hall he wondered if he actually had a chance with the lovely princess...

Only time would tell.

#mariomovie #mario movie #mario #mario and luigi #mario bros #mario jumpman mario #the mario movie #the mario bros #mareach #mario x peach #fanfic #first writing #like ever? hope its okay :)#writing #i am cringe but i am free #guys its almost 4am send help #tell me if you want a part 2!#lava posts

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sareenademon · 6 months

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Frost being Bi Han and Sareena’s Daughter AU

In this universe, Frost is half Chinese half white and looks like Jessie Mei Li.

She was named after her grandmother “Shuāngmei” the name roughly translates to “frost rose” that’s why everyone just calls her “Frost” for short.

Only her parents call her by her real name but that’s only if they’re upset with her.

She was daddy’s little girl from the moment Bi Han laid eyes on her. He spoiled her.

Frost was always following her father around like a puppy.

She looks like her mother especially if she wears her long.

Being an ice demon, cryomancy came naturally as breathing to her.

Unlike Bing Xin, she wasn’t a chaotic baby. She was quiet to the point that it unsettled her parents.

She was always a tom boy. She enjoyed running around outside and fighting boys. Especially because she knew she was stronger than them.

This became a problem when she seriously injured one boy while roughhousing.

Her hair and eyes glows a icy blue when she uses her powers in demon form.

She and Bi Han get along best. They’re the same personality wise.

They’re both ambitious, arrogant, stoic, and have issues dealing with and expressing their emotions.

Her arrogance comes from knowing that because she’s a ice demon, she’s the most powerful cryomancer ever born. Also that she’s the Grandmaster’s heir .

When she was little, she and Sareena got along better. She absolutely loved when her mother would comb and braid her hair every morning. It was a daily ritual the Frost looked forward to.

But when Frost got into her teens and became more difficult to deal with, that ritual became very infrequent.

Sareena and Frost started arguing a lot more. Despite their complicated relationship. Sareena loves her unconditionally and Frost loves her.

One day she got so mad at her mother that she cut her hair short just to spite her.

Growing up as a cryomancer/demon hybrid is not easy especially if you’re a hormonal teenage girl and also gay.

Everyone in the family already knows she likes girls. Sareena knew it from when she was ten.

She also constantly bickers with her younger brother Bing Xin. He’s much more easy going and snarky. He knows exactly how to get under her skin.

He enjoys pranking her but always gets in trouble because Frost usually goes running to daddy to snitch on him.

Is scared to death of losing her father one day, that’s why she clings to him so much.

#mk frost #sareena #bi han #my oc bingxin #mortal kombat 1 #sub zero

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adelaidedrubman · 3 months

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COMFORT MY CHARACTER. (from this prompt list) + jestiny +☀️ - a nice day outside (requested by @simplegenius042) + 🧸 - a soft plushie (requested by @blissfulalchemist) + ✋ - a hand carding gently through their hair (requested by both!)

notes: hello hello, look who is coming in three months later to finally answer these. i am sorry for the delay and ofc no pressure to read, but i decided this would be good to pivot and post for valentine’s day. also, avoiding spoilers but if you want a visualization on 🧸 you can find it here. this is set in hook, line, and sinker verse, but the only context from it you really need is that john and jestiny are fake dating. wordcount: 2.3k warnings: animal death, fleeting detailed fantasies of violence against humans, and threats to do violence to humans. pretty tame all things considered.

A gentle breeze kicks up to ease the heat settling into Jestiny’s cheeks and tickle her jaw with the feathery ends of her hair, and as she draws in a deep inhale of the scent of pine carried on the air it dawns on her that this truly is her definition of a perfect day.

The sun beats down on the back of her neck to bake the skin and draw a pleasant coating of sweat that flushes cool with the wind. The glittering waters of Snowshoe Lake lap gently at the thick heels of her boots stuck into mud.

Three trout float defeated and bled dry in the cooler she pulls a fresh beer from, a fourth cutting ripples into the water as it moves to flirt with her hook. The glass on her bottle of Two Hearted Ale kisses her inner thigh with its crisp coating of frost as she props it against her leg.

Hank is tucked away in the bib pocket of her overalls and firmly in the grips of a food coma courtesy of the extra scoop of bait Adelaide threw in for him, pointy pink fingers still curled around the batch of crickets he grew too full to finish.

And any threat of tranquility stagnating to tedium is kept at bay by the sudden plop of her bobber to sink into the water, causing Jestiny to perk up and brace herself just in time for the satisfying tension of weight pulling against her rod.

Jestiny licks her lower lip as she begins to reel, muscles of her arms tensing and tugging on instinct with the perfect amount of pressure to meet the force of the fish in a smooth, elegant dance — a back and forth quickly rewarded as her catch leaps from the water. An opportunity she gladly seizes, reeling it to its doom.

She feels Hank begin to slowly stir against her chest as she pierces her knife through the fish’s brain, his head poking from her pocket for his whiskers to brush against her chin as she drops the trout into her cooler.

A somehow still surviving cricket leaps from Hank’s clutches as he unfurls his fist in a waking stretch, landing at the top of Jessie’s head as the rest of the insects fall lifelessly into the depths of her pocket.

“Hank,” she chides without malice, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she grins down at the opossum. “What did I tell you about goin’ and wastin’ bait?”

Hank claws his way up Jestiny’s chest as she rewards herself with a hearty gulp of beer, climbing over her shoulder to cling to the back of her head and reach to pluck the cricket from her hair and plop it into his mouth.

And to Jessie’s relief he doesn’t scramble back down to grab for the bait she slides onto her hook, instead remaining perched on her shoulder as she casts her line, his fingers tangled in her hair.

Hank combs the fingers through short locks as Jestiny leans back to settle in and watch the water, his snout nudging against her as he sniffs for more bugs, licking to groom out anything he finds.

His sharp little claws send a relaxing tingle along Jestiny’s scalp as they rake along the skin, gliding down her spine to ease the tension from her shoulders.

Yes, in Jestiny’s mind it is truly a perfect day. And with the bright blue of the sky stretching out without a cloud in sight, she felt certain that nothing could happen to ruin —

The low rumble of an engine tears Jestiny from her thoughts, followed by the thud of a car door slamming that tells her the driver is close.

“The fuck,” Jessie mutters under her breath as she glances to her phone. “Shouldn’t be a fuckin’ soul around here but —”

“Ah, there’s the fisherwoman I’ve been looking for!” a devastating familiar voice calls, the surface of the water suddenly busy with the ripples of fish swimming away.

“No,” Jestiny says before she’s even turned around. She jumps to her feet to face the man strolling towards her and shout louder, “No. Absolutely not!”

“You certainly know how to give a lover a warm welcome,” John replies as he plants himself in front of Jessie.

“Never fuckin’ call yourself that,” she says with a grimace, taking suspicious note of the giant, glossy gift bag slung over his shoulder. “Never call anyone that,” she tacks on, a disgusted shudder texturing the words. “And never fuckin’ bother me when I’m fishing,” she snaps. “How did —” she runs a frustrated hand through her hair, pushing it back into the face of the opossum still clinging there. “How did you even find my spot?! You stalkin’ me now?”

A sharp grin carves itself into his face to push back the modest rounds of his cheeks and deepen the sag of his laugh lines, his eyes lighting up with an irritatingly proud twinkle.

He slides a hand beneath his vest, pulling out a sleek smartphone with a cross insignia on its case. “Scathing negative reviews of Snowshoe Lake suddenly popped up last night on Fishbrain, FishHub, ANGLR — even AllTrails and 27 Crags mentioned the nearby mountain pass being subpar.”

“You saw somewhere with shitty reviews and figured you belonged there?”

“I figured it was the work of my clever, reclusive little angler slyly marking her territory.” A slow, dramatic bat-batting of his eyelashes punctuates the statement. “And lo and behold, here you are.”

The hinge of her jaw; her nose twitches. “I like my privacy,” she drawls slowly, so that he may understand. “Now that we’ve gone over the how, maybe we can move on to why the fuck you’re here? And when you’ll be fucking leaving?”

If it’s within the next ninety seconds, perhaps she can still salvage her perfect day.

“Why, you haven’t been keeping track?” His tongue clicks against his teeth with a furrow of his brow in a contrived display of woundedness. “We’re celebrating our one month anniversary today!”

She snarls and bugs her eyes. “Great! Our fake relationship reached a fake milestone I wouldn’t even celebrate if it was real!”

“Do you think that attitude could have been a contributing factor to the death of your real relationship?”

She thinks how beautiful her fishing knife would look lovingly buried to the hilt in his jugular, the sweet glug glug glug he would make choking on his own blood. She thinks about how pretty he would look with that sharp grin sliced to gape and droop like a catfish’s mouth.

“I think interrupting my fishin’ time is about to be a contributing factor in your death,” she settles on. “The only way you’re gonna be any good to me around here is if I chop you up into little bits and use you as bait for my fucking hook.”

“Well, for all that empty posturing you’d think you would better understand the importance of keeping up appearances,” he muses as he rifles through the bag at his side. “We’re pretending to be a happy couple — the kind that would spend their anniversary together.”

“Well, nobody’s here! So how ’bout we don’t and say we —”

Jestiny is interrupted by a hand shoving a bundle of red roses against her chest, full enough to block her vision so that she must snatch them by the tissue paper and ribbon wrapped stems to lower enough for her to glare at the man stepping back to gaze at her with a self-assured smile.

“Aw, John,” she coos with a sweet flutter of her eyelashes and beaming smile. “You shouldn’t have,” she fusses as she leans in to stick her nose in the petals and inhale. “You really shouldn’t have. Because anyone who’d actually been dating me for a month would know —” she hurls the bouquet to the ground, stomping a foot down atop it. “That I! Fucking! Hate! Getting! Flowers!” she screams as she grinds the blossoms into the dirt beneath her boot.

“Ah, well,” his unaffected sigh draws her attention to the repetitive shuttering sound filling the background. “Luckily, I don’t think anyone would suspect as much from looking at you.”

She looks up from crushed petals to see John holding up his phone with screen pointed towards her, her own sarcastically smiling face as she clasps a bouquet greeting her.

“And image is what matters,” he purrs, stepping back and tucking his phone into his vest pocket just as she swings for it.

“Then how about you get the fuck out of here before I wreck that phone and that pretty face of yours?”

He positively glows at the threat. “Come now, you didn’t really think I’d call it quits at a puny dozen roses, do you?”

“I’ll shove the next bouquet so far up your ass your mouth is gonna win an award for best rose garden!”

“Not roses,” he replies, holding out a bright red heart-shaped box.

“Great,” she grumbles, snatching the box. “Another thing I don’t fucking wa —”

He catches her hand as it moves to throw the box to the ground. “Just open it.”

“I don’t fucking like chocolates,” she replies, holding no particular distaste for chocolates. “Especially this stupid fucking February 15th drugstore clearance aisle —”

He lifts the lid himself with a huff.

She sees there are in fact no chocolates in the container. Instead, its five sections are filled with a menagerie of bait — a tangled ball of earthworms in the left round at the top, a school of dried minnows in the right, one pile of crickets and one of grasshoppers in the center, and a cluster of doughballs at the pointed bottom.

“Mm,” she grunts in begrudging appreciation. She pinches the leg of a grasshopper between her fingers, lifting it above her head to offer up to Hank before she grabs the lid from John to place back atop the box.

“Doesn’t make no goddamn sense to have doughballs and insects in the same damn container — where am I finding catfish and trout together outside of a stocked pond?” She snorts with laughter at the ridiculous thought of fishing at a stocked pond before clearing her throat and setting the heart-shaped box down by her cooler. “Still, I guess it keeps me from using you to bait my hook.”

That proud glow of his brightens until he’s absolutely luminous at her walking back of the death threat.

“Don’t oversell the proclamations of love, Jessie dearest — it has only been a month,” he says with a dreamy sigh, leaning into her as if blooming towards the sun itself.

“You wanna quit while you’re ahead?” she offers with a tilt of her head towards his car.

“Rule of threes, my love,” John answers breathily. “What would flowers and chocolates be without a cute stuffed animal?”

Her eyebrow twitches. “Should have quit while you’re ahead,” she snaps. “I am a twenty-eight year old woman, not a schoolgirl looking for a teddy bear to hug at —”

Another flourish of his hand cuts her off, palm outstretched to display a soft plush of pink and gray.

“Not a teddy bear,” he purrs.

It’s not a teddy bear. Its round little ears are bare felt and marbled pink and black, the beads of its eyes pinpoint tiny beads, bubblegum pink tail curling around its body. It’s —

“An opossum,” she mutters to herself, a small, giddy huff of a laugh passing through her lips against her will. She brushes her fingers against its soft faux fur before she can stop herself, and John’s free hand reaches out to cover hers and wrap it around the plush to hold it on her own before retracting his.

She coughs and shoots him an obligatory glare before looking back to the opossum plush, eyes drawn to take notice of the opening in its middle — finding a second tiny opossum head peeking out.

Her eyes widen, and in spite of herself she laughs out under her breath, “It’s got a baby in its little pouch…”

She pulls the smaller stuffed opossum from its place nestled inside the larger plush, holding both up in proud display to no one in particular.

She feels the scraping of claws and a the tickle of tiny, sniffing exhales against her cheek as Hank climbs down to perch atop her shoulder and inspect.

His clawed little hand reaches out to grasp the smaller opossum, holding it to himself in ownership, then tucking it into the pocket of Jestiny’s overalls before climbing down her chest to curl up beside it.

“Ha!” Another laugh bursts out before she can stop it, looking up with a delighted grin on damnable reflex to check that her company saw the precious sight she did.

Blue eyes sparkling bright with pride meet her. Jessie’s cheeks sear under their unbearable heat.

She clears her throat.

“Well, Hank likes it,” she mumbles, spinning on her heels to turn her back to him as she tucks the larger plush into her overalls. “Gotta keep it, I guess.”

“Is that all it takes?” John asks, his breath falling hot along the back of her neck as he crowds behind her with every step she takes back towards the shore, like a trout chasing a lure. “Perhaps Hank can put in a good word for me, then?”

“Opossums can’t talk, dumbass,” she scoffs in reply as she reaches into the heart-shaped box to pull out an earthworm to slip onto her hook. “And people who expect to be allowed to hang around while I fish shouldn’t either.”

Another dreamy sigh and a rustle of clothing against grass as weight sinks beside her in the mud.

She focuses herself on the pleasant plop of her bobber landing in water, breathing in the crisp mountain air and ignoring the encroaching warmth of a knee casually pressing against her own as she spreads her legs to shore up her fishing stance.

Perhaps her perfect day would have to be chalked up as another one that got away.

An arm stretches out behind her to press its palm onto the ground on the opposite side, its owner’s head indiscreetly turned to the side to stare at her rather than the water, and this time she chooses to blame the heat crawling along her cheeks on the afternoon sun rather than the scrutiny of his adoring gaze.

But a bad day of fishing beats a perfect day of anything else, after all.

#also was my excuse to force myself into playing around in present tense more thinking ‘‘oh this will be quick and easy so’’#three months later……#oc: hank the opossum #oc: deputy jestiny ellen #otp: stop bothering these nice folks #praying to the valentine’s gods this queues correctly

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