do you do taglists for your BOT content? if so i’d love to be added. if not its totally fine!!
yes of course!! i haven’t had anyone ask but i will absolutely add you to every post now. infact anyone who sees my work just has to reach out in some way if they wanna be tagged in something. i see the comments, inboxes, etc.
you assuming that zuko has had sex due to his past relationship with mai. but in actuality, zuko and mai only really kissed and kept things over the clothes.
so you're endearingly surprised when you and zuko take your relationship to the next level and he's a flustered mess. he's done his research, ensuring that he does things right and doesn't end up hurting you. but research is far from the real thing and having you naked before him, gorgeous and pilant, overwhelms him so much he starts to steam.
zuko ends up setting the silk bedsheets on fire and the both of you, in loosely tied robes, have to put it out and it's a whole frantic mess. at the end of it, zuko is so embarrassed and you failing to hide your laughter doesn't help matters. but once you've calmed, you gently cup his flushed face and rest your forehead against his.
"what a night, huh?" you say, grinning. "didn't think i'd be hot enough to have my boyfriend set his sheets on fire."
zuko groans, still mortified, but his lips tick upwards at the sound of your pretty laugh. because he knows you aren't laughing at him but at the hilarity of the situation. neither of you could have expected that this would be your evening's outcome.
"c–can we—?" zuko tries, subconsciously leaning into your touch when your thumbs rub soothing circles against his temples. his body relaxes steadily into yours. "i—?"
"you wanna try again?" you ask kindly, and zuko shakes his head slowly.
"i just want to hold you," he whispers, the words brushing over your inner wrist. "if that's okay."
your gaze soften and you lean in to place a tender kiss upon his lips.
"you can always hold me, zuko."
zuko smiles, turning it into the softness of your palm.
omg i loveeee your smaus esp for off campus boys AND you included beau. pls pls keep them coming and know they’re LOVEDDD (theres not enough content on here for beau x reader 😔😔)
hi!! thank you so much for the love you're so kind <3 of course i write for beau! because nothing happened to him!! he's happy and healthy!!!
i will def make more!! as of right now i have a lot of requests to fill and some of my own ideas i wanna finish and i have to admit its a bit overwhelming but im trying my best for yall!
Johnny Kavanagh with a lowk bitchy girlfriend plssssss
“Am I a bitch?”
Summary: Everyone knows you don’t let Johnny away with much, especially being 40 minutes late to your date.
Masterlist!
You’re pissed. Like, seriously pissed. Like Johnny better have a really good fucking excuse as to why he is late. You’re dressed to the nines: high heels on, your shortest skirt blowing around your legs and your hair perfectly styled just the way you like it. And Johnny is half an hour late.
Your patience is wearing thin. Not that you had much to begin with. Johnny had promised to take you to this new, fancy, restaurant in Cork city because you were pissed at him for spending so much time playing rugby. How much time does one person possibly need to spend practicing for a stupid sport? All you really need to do is run around with a ball anyway.
And now he’s late, and you would bet money that he’s still at rugby practice. You had even bought him a Dairy Milk bar because you had felt bad for nagging at him. Sighing, you look at your watch. Forty minutes. That’s it.
Slamming the chocolate down on the counter, you grab your keys and head out to the car. In five minutes you’re at Tommen, high heels clacking against the pavement as you storm over to the rugby pitch, handbag swinging in your hand.
There he is. Running a drill with the rest of the team. Usually, you might focus on how hot Johnny looks right now: jersey stuck to his muscular arms, hair tousled and looking just the right amount of sweaty. But you’re not focusing on that.
It’s Patrick Feely that notices you first. “Hey cap, your girlfriend’s here! She looks pissed,” he calls over his shoulder.
Johnny freezes. You can see him realising what time it is as he turns around, face cringing in apprehension. He knows he’s a dean man walking. You finally reach the pitch, making a beeline straight towards Johnny. Several of the lads give out low-whistles.
“You’re dead Kavanagh!” One of them calls.
“Fuck, she looks bloody pissed,” another remarks. You give them the middle finger without so much as looking their way.
Gibsie steps forward, valiantly protecting his friend. “Look, it was my fault, don’t blame Johnny…”
“Don’t make excuses for him Gibs,” you say, walking around Gibsie until you come face to face with a sheepish Johnny. “Explain yourself,” is all you say.
Johnny takes a deep breath. “Look baby I’m so fucking sorry, okay? I didn’t realise that practice would run so late. I’ll make it up to ya, yeah?” He says, big hands circling around your wrists soothingly. He starts to pull you in but you put a hand on his chest, pushing him back.
“You’re all sweaty and I spent an hour and a half getting ready.”
Johnny nods. “I’ll leave right now. I’ll be ready in like, forty minutes, yeah?”
You pause. You’re still angry, but merely seeing Johnny has taken most of the flames from your fire. Originally you had planned to say that he was too late, and to make him regret being late by showing him how good you looked right now. But now, you just wish he’d been there in the first place.
Johnny can see your hesitation. “Please babe. Just let me make this up to you,” he murmurs against your ear and you shiver at the heat of his breath against your neck.
“Okay,” you concede. “But you’re paying. And you need to make it up to me,” you cross your arms. Sometimes it’s easier to demand things from Johnny than to tell him the truth; that you feel forgotten and insecure, that you feel like maybe he just doesn’t like you anymore.
“Of course baby. I’m so fucking sorry, love. I’m such an eejit, especially when my girl looks so beautiful.”
“Mhm you don’t deserve any of this,” you whisper against his lips. Johnny moves to kiss you but you turn away before he can, sauntering away with your handbag still swinging. You can hear Johnny groaning behind your back. “You can wipe that smirk off your face,” you warn Gibsie, who has a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Yes ma’am,” Gibsie replies, moving back towards Johnny.
True to his word, Johnny is at your house within forty minutes, dressed in jeans and a designer jumper. When he arrives, he even presents you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. It even draws a smile from you.
“I ate your chocolate,” is the first thing you say to him as you take the flowers and put them in a vase.
“What?”
“I bought you chocolate but then you were late so I ate it,” you explain as you walk outside and step onto his car.
Johnny looks like a wounded puppy. “You ate it?” He asks, looking truly heartbroken.
“I don’t know why you’re so upset, you’re all into healthy eating anyway. You rarely eat chocolate anymore,” you defend yourself as Johnny begins driving.
“I would have eaten it if it was from you.”
“Well it’s too late to cry about it now. But I am sorry. Kind of. It was really scrumptious,” you shrug.
“It’s okay babe. I shouldn’t be eating any of that anyway.”
“Johnny do you think I’m a bitch?” You ask suddenly, looking down at your nails. They’re sharp, like claws. You frown, picking at them.
“What? Of course not,” Johnny replies without hesitating.
“I know what your friends say about me,” you huff, looking out the window.
“All they say to me is that they don’t know how I managed to pull a girl like you.”
“Johnny that’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. They’re always talking about how I ‘run a tight ship’ and everyone knows that’s code for ‘your girlfriend’s an annoying bitch.’”
“Baby I don’t care what they think. I love the bones of ya. You’re not a bitch. You just care more than people realise.”
You sigh, still looking out the window, still unsure. In your own mind, your behaviour is perfectly reasonable. All you do is hold Johnny to a reasonable standard. But that’s not what everyone else thinks and you know it.
Johnny can see your insecurity plain on your face. “I love when you boss me around.”
“What?” You turn to Johnny in confusion.
“I think it’s really sexy that you know your standards and hold them. I love that you’re confident enough to not put up with any bullshit,” he explains, putting his hand on your thigh.
“You’re sure?” You ask, hesitating.
“Of course baby,” he confirms.
“Good because your hand is sweaty and I’m wearing wash off tan,” you delicately remove Johnny’s hand from your leg. Johnny simply laughs and places both hands on the steering wheel.
Notes: sorry this is so short, I don’t know if this is what anonymous wanted exactly, but I tried. It probably isn’t bitchy enough.
Also does anyone know how to get them fancy fonts on tumblr and like the little decorations? I want to jazz up my fics 🥲
summary: when girls keep on trying to get Deans attention, you can’t help but get into your head about it.
request: yes/no
warnings: drinking, swearing
word count: 1.86k
authors note: hey you lot! I have just finished uni for the semester so the updates will be back to a more regular schedule!
The first time you met Dean, you assumed he was flirting as a joke.
Because guys like Dean Di Laurentis didn't look at girls like you.
Not really.
And definitely not twice.
But most certainly not in the way he was looking at you.
You were standing in line at a campus coffee shop, bundled into an oversized sweater, trying very hard not to notice the hockey players who had just walked in.
Then one of them stepped beside you “hey." That voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand.
You looked up.
Dean smiled.
Not a smirk.
Not some cocky grin.
Just a smile that, if you didn’t know any better felt genuine "hi?" You looked behind you as if he was looking through you, only to stupidly be faced with his teammates.
"I've seen you around."
Your immediate thought was that he was either blind or just s
Your second thought was that he was making fun of you.
But then he asked for your name.
And remembered it.
Because he showed up again a few days later.
And then again.
And somehow, against all logic, Dean kept choosing you.
Which six months later, left you still trying to understand why.
Not because Dean gave you any reason to doubt him. It was exact opposite, actually.
He was the most affectionate boyfriend you'd ever seen.
Which for a man that lived and breathed casual, it felt like you were waiting to wake up from this always.
Always touching you.
Always pulling you into his lap.
Always kissing your forehead.
Always looking at you like you were the prettiest girl in every room.
The problem was that your brain refused to let your heart accept it.
Years of insecurity didn't disappear because one beautiful hockey player loved you.
So most of the time they crept back in.
Like tonight.
You and Dean were at a team party.
The house was packed.
Music thumped through the walls.
Girls crowded around the hockey players.
And every few minutes you caught someone staring at Dean.
A blonde near the kitchen.
A brunette by the stairs.
Another girl who literally laughed and touched his arm while he was talking.
You knew Dean wasn't encouraging it because you knew he loved you.
But the little voice in your head was being particularly cruel tonight.
Look at them.
Look at you.
Of course they'd want him.
Why wouldn't they?
You found yourself drifting toward a quieter hallway.
Just for a minute.
Just to breathe.
Your feet carried you up to his room, the place you found yourself most nights.
A few minutes later you heard footsteps.
Then Dean's voice "thought I’d have to get some missing posters up soon.” You looked up to see him holding two drinks.
One for him.
One for you.
You forced a smile as your fingers dropped your bracelet “hey.” Dean immediately narrowed his eyes.
He knew you too well. In the few short months that you had been together, this man could read you like a book "what’s wrong?" He cocked his head as he shut the door behind him.
Dean handed you your drink as you frowned “it’s nothing.” You shook your head.
The boy crouched down in front of you “liar." He rested his hand on your knee as you looked away.
You knew it was one of those things that shouldn’t have been picking at your heart but it rang in your ears "it’s stupid." You pursed your lips together as you sucked at your teeth.
Deans fingers traced random shapes on the inside of your thigh "tell me anyway." You twisted the cup in your hands, clearly letting the mental coin toss play in your head.
He waited.
Patiently.
Eventually you sighed.
Tugging your fingers through your hair "I just-" You sipped at your drink as if it could buy you time.
Because you hated saying it out loud "I don't know." You shrugged almost wishing that he hadn’t caught you upstairs.
Dean stayed quiet.
So you continued "I look around at girls at these parties and they're all gorgeous." Your voice got smaller trying not to look stupid “then there's me."
Dean's entire face fell.
Not in annoyance.
In heartbreak.
Like hearing that hurt his soul “baby.” His hands pulled away from you.
As if he was walking on a tight rope trying to avoid hurting you.
You shrugged "it’s fine." You tried to convince yourself that it was normal to feel that way.
Dean was quick to disagree with you “it is absolutely not fine." You laughed weakly as you picked at the edge of your nail.
"It's not your problem."
The words didn’t get a chance to hang in the air before Dean decided that he had enough "the hell it isn't." Dean set his drink down on the floor and turned fully toward you.
His hands rested on your thighs "look at me." You hesitated and it made him repeat himself.
"Look at me."
So you did.
His expression was unbelievably serious "you think I settled for you?" He cocked his head as you almost looked annoyed.
Your eyes widened "what? No-" you went to explain yourself but he cut you off.
Dean wasn’t trying to argue with you but he really wanted to make sure that you got what he was saying “that's what you're saying." The hockey player sucked at his teeth “you think I looked at every girl on campus and somehow ended up with you by accident?"
You blinked as Dean leaned closer "I chose you." His words were both sweet and somehow effortless at the same time.
Your heart throbbed “Dean,” you couldn’t help it when you cracked a small smile.
His voice was barely a whisper “please listen to me.” His hand found yours as his squeezed.
It was as if you could hear a pin drop in here that’s how quiet Deans room was around you both "I like the way you laugh." Another finger intertwined with yours.
Still your heart pounded in your chest "I like the way you get excited when you're talking about something." All of the guys were used to listening to your tangents about what meats go on a sandwich or why the boys picked the wrong star in whatever Real Housewives collection they let you put on.
He licked his lips before he continued "I like that you snort when something's actually funny." You groaned knowing that it was something that he really wouldn’t let you live down.
Dean smiled as he nodded "I like every inch of you." Heat flooded your face as you scrunched your nose.
You sounded like a teen boy that had just been smothered in kisses by their grandmother "Dean." Your eyes rolled trying to act like you didn’t feel like you were drowning in love.
If you gave him the chance he’d kiss every inch of your body he’d do it "I do." Dean brought your hand up to his lips as he kissed your fingers.
His thumb brushed over your knuckles "you’re beautiful." You shook your head automatically.
Dean immediately caught it "nope." He narrowed his eyes at you like he had all the time in the world to deal with this.
"Dean-“
"No." He poked your cheek cutting you off "you don't get to argue with me about my own girlfriend." You laughed despite yourself.
"That's not how that works."
He stuck his tongue out at you "it is,” as he nodded.
"It isn't."
The two of you sounded like children "it absolutely is." His arm wrapped around your waist.
Strong.
Secure.
Like there was nowhere else he'd rather be.
"Besides."
He lowered his voice “do you know how obsessed I am with you?" His words sent shivers down your spine, shooting straight to your core.
You covered your face "oh my God." You shook your head as it was buried in your hands
"I'm serious."
You held back a laugh "you're ridiculous." Your cheeks were sore as you wanted his bed to swallow you.
Dean pulled your hands away as he wanted to see you "I am." He kissed your nose.
He had that smug look on his face as he had your total attention “but I'm also right." It was the truth.
Then your forehead.
Then your cheek.
Then finally your lips.
Slow.
Soft.
Patient.
The kind of kiss that felt like being wrapped in a blanket on a cold winters morning.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours “you know what I see when I look at you?" You swallowed almost nervous about what you’d hear.
"What?"
His eyes dropped to your stomach before they quickly went back to your eyes “the girl I want to come home to." Your chest tightened as you knew all about how he wanted three kids.
His thumb drew circles against your wrist “who I want in my jersey at every game." Getting to see you sat in the crowd was almost just as good as getting to get you out of the jersey.
Another kiss on your lips.
He stopped as he took the chance to really look at you, "the girl I can't stop thinking about." His voice was soft as if he was worried he’d scare you.
And just like that he was ready to hit what felt like the nail in the coffin "the girl I love." Your eyes immediately filled and Dean noticed instantly.
"Oh no."
You laughed.
You raised your hand to stop him "don’t." You blinked rapidly to avoid tears falling.
He was quick to tease you "oh, she's crying." You sniffled as you shook your head.
"I'm not crying."
The hockey player laughed as he shook his head "she’s definitely crying." You shoved his shoulder.
Dean grinned as he sat down next to you, quickly pulling you onto his lap.
The moment you settled against him, he wrapped both arms around your middle and squeezed.
Tight and protective.
Like he was proud to be holding you.
Like he wanted the entire world to know you were his “you know," he murmured into your hair, "those girls at the party?" You groaned, shoving your head into the crook of his neck.
The boy grinned as he ran his fingers through your hair “they can look." If anything he enjoyed getting the chance to show you off.
He didn’t stop there, no he was actually convinced he was going to be the most insufferable boyfriend that day “they can stare." It made him smirk how you squirmed.
Your cheeks reddened as you whined, "stop." He laughed as he shook his head.
His fingers danced over the waist of your pants "because at the end of the day?" His lips brushed your temple as he let out a soft breath.
Dean let his fingers rest under your chin as he forced you to look at him "I get the girl I want." That was more than any public claim mattered.
And somehow, tucked safely against his chest while he held you like the most precious thing he'd ever touched, you almost believed him when he said it.
dededos
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