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sooniebby · 11 months

Note

This is my first time doing a request, I hope it doesn't bother you and you can choose the character you want to cast as Reader's partner. So imagine a world where hybrids exist, but they only make up a few percent of the world's population.

Reader is a snow leopard hybrid, but because the snow leopard is smaller than a leopard, much smaller than a tiger, and slightly smaller than a forest lynx, so he has the character of fluffy white ears and tail and short height, he works in an office and because his big and long fluffy tail can annoy people he often bites his own tail so as not to disturb others and it makes people who are in the same department with him spend a little time just to stroke his head and get a purring reaction from him.

This was heard by the Office manager's ears and became curious which in the end he made Reader a private secretary and often stroked Reader's head, until one day he accidentally pulled Reader's tail and got an unexpected reaction. Since then he has often pulled Reader's tail with 'accident' reasons which ended with office sex.

You can change it or ignore it if you feel uncomfortable, sorry if this is too long and sorry if my English is bad. Have a good day

ఌ 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

꧁ 𝙏𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 3.6k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › none

Kinks › breeding, size kink, creampie, mentions of free use

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

(Name) didn’t hate being a hybrid. Sure there was the weirdos that wanted to keep him a pet but most treated him as a regular person. The only odd part was having people just touching his head.

It certainly didn’t help that he couldn’t help the purring that happened whenever he did. It just kept going so he ignored it most time. The pats were nice anyway.

At his job, his boring office job that he’d been debating on quitting, had two people who just couldn’t let go of his hair (plus ears). Kuroo and Bokuto loved to pet him as if he was a house cat.

He usually purred whenever they touched him since they figured out how to get that reaction from it. His ears were sensitive, don’t judge.

(Name)’s tail swished around as he began to get irritated at the paper work in front of him. That damn boss of his was annoying him with the amount of shit he continued to give him on a daily basis. He was just about to get up from his seat when someone stepped in his tail.

He cried out in pain, which was more akin to a cat’s scream, as he grabbed his tail and held it close to himself. Everyone in the office stared at him in shock while the culprit, Yamaguchi, looked as if he wanted to kill himself.

“I’m so sorry!!! Please forgive me!!” He cried, bowing down onto the ground. (Name) simply nodded. He knew he didn’t do it on purpose.

His tail was much longer than normal hybrids. It also didn’t help that he was shorter so it made his tail appear longer than it actually was.

But Yamaguchi wouldn’t be the only one to step on it. Soon enough, at least everyone stepped on it at least once. Kuroo twice became he didn’t watch where his big ass feet went but (Name) had to figure out what to do.

The pain was becoming unbearable and he was sure another two steps would cause his tail to break. He decided, when every other idea sounded stupid, to just hold it in his mouth.

(Name) was used to the fur in his mouth so it didn’t bother him to lightly hold the tail. This way, he didn’t have to fold it into an uncomfortable position for longer than hour. A few times he wrapped his tail around his waist but that always got a cramp after an hour or so.

“It’s like you got your own silencer,” Bokuto once said, scratching (Name)’s hair during his break. (Name) purred happily, his tail curling around Bokuto’s waist to hold him close.

“Oh, he could use his tail during sex.” Kuroo suddenly said, a smirk on his lips.

Kenma looked confused. “Why would he?” He was resisting the urge to pet (Name). His love for cats extended to (Name) heavily but he never actually touched him in fear of making uncomfortable.

“To muffle his moans,” Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Perfect for when you don’t want to get caught.”

“Oh, so dirty,” Bokuto laughed.

“Weirdo…” Kenma whispered.

(Name) was too busy enjoying his massage to care.

The four of them stopped talking when Iwaizumi had walked past them. He nodded in greeting which they returned. Iwaizumi looked mainly confused on Bokuto petting (Name) but didn’t say anything as he walked to his office.

Iwaizumi was the boss’s secretary. He was hardly outside of his office. It usually meant something bad happened if he was.

“Do you think the boss knows?” Kuroo asked.

“Know what?” (Name) questioned, frowning when Bokuto stopped his massage.

“About you. I heard he loves hybrids.”

“In a fetish way?”

“Dunno. Probably.”

Kenma sighed. “I’m getting back to work.”

Bokuto seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before shrugging. “He hardly comes out of his room like Iwaizumi. He wouldn’t care about (Name).”

“True.”

But how wrong they were.

It was a week later after Iwaizumi saw the petting zoo with Bokuto and (Name). And suddenly (Name) was being requested to meet the Boss. He felt worried.

Sure hybrids had protections on them but this was a private company. What couldn’t they get away with if they paid the right people? His coworkers all looked a bit worried themselves as they watched him walk away to the office.

They certainly didn’t help his heart calm down.

He knocked on the door waiting for the voice of a much older man to allow him in. But he only heard a much younger voice. (Name) hesitantly walked inside the office and saw a man possibly only four years his senior.

Oh, he was much younger than he thought. Okay, maybe he could get off the hook for whatever problem he caused. (Name) quickly bowed and closed the door, walking over to the seat in front of the desk.

The man’s brown hair was slicked back with a nice pair of glasses on his face. His smile was wide, a bit creepy but way more welcoming than (Name) had imagined. The man watched him for a second before his smile faded and he slide over a folder.

“Mister Hiragi, yes? You’ve been working with our company for over four years, right when I started after I took over for my father.”

“Yes…”

“I would like to offer you a promotion. You handled any work I sent your way with ease. I believe you deserve a higher position.”

(Name) nodded, a smile on his face. Oh, guess he could stay here a bit longer.

“My personal assistant, is the job I’m offering.”

“Isn’t Iwaizumi-San your secretary?”

“A personal assistant is different than a secretary. You’ll only work for me. Iwaizumi doesn’t have any power over you.”

(Name) hummed, his tail swishing around as he was deep in thought. His eyes were down on the folder, not noticing the man’s eyes that followed his tail with a hint of mischievousness.

“If this is alright for me to ask, will the salary increase?”

“Of course.”

“Then I accept.”

“Great. You’ll start next week, enjoy your Friday, Mister Hiragi.”

(Name) was right where he wanted him. Just how lucky was he?

ꕥ

(Name) had learned the boss name was Oikawa and that Iwaizumi had no fear in talking shit to his face. The amount of ‘shittykawa’ that or ‘asskawa’ this, Iwaizumi still kept his job.

He envied him.

He wanted to cuss out Oikawa too.

After the weekend, that Monday he first started his new high paying job, he was told to make coffee.

A fucking coffee!

After that, he was told to organize a shelf that had bothering Oikawa because he kept forgetting to higher a cleaner. Maybe he should’ve read the contract first before saying yes. But he told himself it was good money.

But it wasn’t just that that made him want to cuss him out, no it was the constant touching of his tail.

(Name) was bending down to pick up some trash when he felt Oikawa grasp his tail. It was a quick touch, as if he wanted to just feel if it was real. And it wasn’t the last time either.

(Name)’s office was now technically Oikawa’s. His old cubicle was given to a new employee so he couldn’t even go back to it if he wanted to. He did visit his coworkers during breaks but he didn’t get the Bokuto massages or Kuroo scratches anymore like he loved.

No, he had to worry with the tail pervert who continuously grasped it before letting go as if it burned him. He really wanted to know what was so tempting about it but decided the money was too good to take any chances.

There were a few times Oikawa pet his hair. It usually lasted just a second, but still resulted in a purr from (Name). (Name) wondered if it was because he was missing head pats for him to enjoy the simply touch from Oikawa.

“Hiragi, can you please hand this out for me?” Oikawa asked, handing over a stack of paper into his hands without even looking up from his computer. (Name) scrunched up his lips into a snarl but hummed, turning over to walk away when Oikawa grabbed his tail.

(Name) stopped and turned back to look at him but only got a mischievous smirk from Oikawa as he let go. His tail swished angrily as he huffed and stomped away to hand out the papers. What was so fun about his tail anyway?

It was similar to a regular cat! He couldn’t just get a cat if he liked touching tails so much?

The rest of the work for Oikawa was surprisingly easy. He felt as if his workload had lessen actually. Sharing an office with Oikawa felt weird though. He had to sit on the chair across from Oikawa, effectively sharing the desk.

It was a large desk so they weren’t cramped but it still felt a bit weird. But he wouldn’t complain. Oikawa never spoke to him during his job unless necessary. He guessed the only thing that truly bothered him about Oikawa was the tail touching.

At least he didn’t have to worry about people stepping on it to though. He was free to let it move around. But he still sometimes had the urge to bite on it again. It had become a habit at this point.

“What species are you?” Oikawa suddenly asked, not looking up from his paperwork.

(Name) blinked. His ears twitched. Most people just knew by looking at him. “A snow leopard.”

“Is that why your hair is white?”

“Yes.”

Oikawa glanced up at him, as if he was trying to study (Name) before a smirk appeared on his lips.

“Has anyone ever played with your tail before?”

“I…”

“Leave him alone, Shittykawa.”

Iwaizumi was in the office. When did he get there? (Name) watched as Oikawa pouted, a look that actually looked cute on him before turning on his blank face. He guessed it was his work default setting. Iwaizumi began speaking to Oikawa about something (Name) didn’t care about so he tuned them out.

His tail curled around in the air as he finished his work much earlier than expected. He was bored. Oikawa was still speaking to Iwaizumi about something so (Name) decided to bring his tail up to his mouth and lightly bite on it, his ears twitching in delight.

“Have a good day, Hiragi.” Iwaizumi suddenly said, walking away to leave.

“What about me? Where’s my goodbye?” Oikawa whined.

“Go fuck yourself.”

The door slammed shut behind Iwaizumi as (Name) wanted to laugh. He was glad his tail was in his mouth at the moment so he muffled it easily. (Name) glanced over at Oikawa and paused when he saw the odd look he was giving him.

Oikawa looked shocked at the sight in front of him. What? Had he never seen a cat hold it’s own tail before? Possibly not a hybrid, (Name) thought to himself as he pulled his tail away from his mouth. He forced a small smile and got back to staring at his computer.

He wanted to go home.

What he didn’t notice was the smirk on Oikawa’s lips.

He was liking this hybrid more and more each day.

ꕥ

(Name) placed down the coffee on Oikawa’s side of the desk, tired of doing the same morning task everyday for almost a month now. But the pay was too good to complain to anyone. Oikawa didn’t even say thank you to him anymore.

When he turned to go back to his side, Oikawa grabbed his tail. And it wasn’t a usual grasp. No, he fucking tugged it. Harshly.

(Name) had always hated how sensitive his tail was to every touch. He didn’t screech. He didn’t yell or howl in pain.

No, he fucking moaned. His back arched as he gripped at the desk beside him. It was silent after his pitiful moan. Oikawa’s hand was still holding his tail while it wiggled to get away.

(Name) wanted to kill himself.

Maybe he should quit.

“Sorry…” Oikawa muttered, releasing his tail.

“It’s fine…” (Name) excuses himself to the toilet. He never wanted to wake up ever again.

It certainly didn’t help that after that, Oikawa didn’t stop touching his tail. No, it seemed like he wanted to get the same reaction that he got he first time. At first, (Name) skillfully dodged most of this.

But there was still a few times Oikawa grabbed it right before he could move it and tug it, earning a whine or gasp from (Name) each time. It also bothered (Name) that he looked forward to it each day.

He couldn’t exactly pull his own tail. His body sent signals in his head that it would hurt and not be pleasurable whenever he tried during masturbation but Oikawa proved it wrong.

(Name) decided that if Oikawa was going to act like this but not do anything further, he might as well try to fuck him. He could always find a new job. Dick was more important.

He just needed some tips.

And he knew just who to ask.

“I’m so disgusted you’re speaking to me about that man.”

“I’m so sorry, Iwaizumi-San! But you have to help me! It’s a…. Hybrid! Thing, y’know? My inner (?) animal is bonded to him now…”

(Name) was spitting out some bullshit but his pouty frown made Iwaizumi not kick him out as soon as he mentioned sex.

“Well, he doesn’t have a fetish for hybrids. He’s just asking weird with you. He just said you were cute last time I asked. Honestly, just ask him.”

“Won’t it be inappropriate?”

“It’s inappropriate to talk to me about this stuff. Shittykawa is also inappropriate to touch your tail. Also your coworkers. But he’s too fucking lazy to enforce rules so I guess they don’t matter.”

(Name) blinked. Oh, he didn’t know it was inappropriate for someone to touch an hybrid’s tail or ears. It made sense….

Yeah, in a more regulated company Bokuto and literally everyone else would’ve been fired.

“Oh, well, thank you.”

“Just have sex when everyone has left, please. I don’t want to hear Lazykawa’s moans.”

(Name) wondered how many nicknames Iwaizumi had for him.

But he now had a plan. Just ask for sex. Oikawa couldn’t say no. He was obviously mildly interested if he kept trying to make him moan.

(Name) wondered how he should execute the plan, however. Since it seemed during the work day, Oikawa ignored him the entire time. Only two times did he look at him and one was to tell him he had a stain on his shirt. The other was to ask for a snack from the vending machine.

It reached around 6 pm, the time most people had left on a Friday night. He was supposed to be leaving now, suggested by Oikawa’s stare at him from time to time. His tail swished around as he closed his laptop, wanting to fake getting ready to leave.

He yawned, as his tail reached over and flicked at Oikawa’s glasses. Oikawa looked up from his computer, a confused look on his face. (Name) grinned, curling his tail around his glasses and pulling it off his face.

“Oikawa-San, you seem to obsess over my tail.”

Oikawa closed his laptop and stood up from his seat. He towered over (Name), a grin on his face.

“It’s a cute tail, Hiragi.”

(Name) placed the glasses on the desk and walked over to Oikawa’s side. “Oikawa… do you want to see me…”

“See you?”

“See on your desk, naked?”

(Name) felt himself cringe a bit at his words but he knew it worked at the smirk Oikawa gave him. He got him so easily. His tail reached up to wrap around Oikawa’s neck and smirked.

“My tail looks so good around your neck.”

ꕥ

“How does my hand feel around your tail, baby?”

(Name) squirmed at the tug of his tail. He was fully naked at the bottom with only his dress shirt on. His tie used to bound his hands together which left him unable to do much. He could take it, it wasn’t too tight but it felt nice to have them.

Oikawa was way more aggressive than he had imagined. After his little comment, he had pushed him to lay down face first into the desk. Swiftly pulling down his pants and underwear to get a good look at his ass. His ass was something Oikawa had only seen through pants that hardly captured the look bare.

He massaged them before delivering two quick slaps to them, earning a gasp from (Name). Oikawa was taking his sweet time with giving (Name) any sense of penetration. It was as if he wanted him to beg for it.

Oikawa tightened his grip around (Name)’s tail and pulled once more, enjoying the whine from the small man beneath him. His body was much larger compared to the hybrid’s, covering it with ease whenever he leaned down.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on (Name)’s bubble butt, enjoying the giggle that left his lips. (Name) grunted when he felt Oikawa bite down on his butt, using a free hand to massage his left cheek.

Oikawa had thought only female hybrids would have self lubrication. So he pulled out a bottle of lube from his desk drawer, he had masturbated in here once. But to his shock, (Name) was leaking slick.

“You have slick?” Oikawa asked, a look of awe on his face.

(Name) blushed in embarrassment. “We can all produce slick… you can just fuck me, my body can handle it.”

“Hm, really? Then realistically, I could grab you whenever I wanted during work and just fuck you?”

“Yes…”

“We should add that to your contract. You’re a personal assistant for a reason, let’s add sex to the list,” Oikawa joked but (Name) couldn’t hate the idea.

It sounded sexy to think about entering Oikawa’s office and being told to cockwarm him during the day. (Name) mewled at the thought as Oikawa slipped in two fingers easily, he stretched his hole a bit to get him ready. Whenever his fingers went close to his prostate, Oikawa only grazed it.

“Oikawa… c’mon… fuck me.” (Name) whined, tail twitching in Oikawa’s hand.

“Want me to pump me full with my cum? That’s what you hybrid’s love, yeah? To be stuffed full.”

(Name) nodded. “I wanna see you though…”

Oikawa hummed as he flipped (Name) to lay on his back. He pulled down his pants and his cock was free to the cold air. (Name) grinned as he watched Oikawa pull at his tie, loosening it. His hair was still slicked back as the light from the sunset shined behind him.

(Name)’s tail curled as Oikawa rubbed his cock against his slick covered hole. He waited with a baited breath, his more animalistic side mewling at the chance of getting breed.

It took two more fake outs until Oikawa slammed his cock inside (Name). He gripped his waist and held him still as started out with a fast pace. (Name) cried out, legs wrapping around Oikawa’s waist.

(Name) moved his tail to his mouth to muffle his moans. Sure, most workers would’ve been gone by now but you never know those weirdos who worked unpaid overtime. Oikawa seemed to into it as he somehow managed to get faster. His cock continuous brushed against his prostate, causing (Name) to arch his back.

His ass was dripping with slick, allowing Oikawa to easily fuck him. The sound of squelching, skin slapping together, and the muffled cries from (Name) filled the office. (Name) was mainly surprised the desk could hold his weight with how fast and harsh Oikawa was thrusting inside of him.

It was squeaking with each thrust, making (Name) worried it would’ve break beneath him.

“(Name)…” Oikawa grunted.

(Name) hummed. He was too far gone to notice him saying his first name. The feeling of Oikawa’s cock inside him was dumbing him down.

“(Name), this isn’t a one time thing, I hope you know that…” Oikawa grabbed his legs and pushed them to rest near his head. (Name) felt himself cry at the new position. The burn of being stretched out like this as well as Oikawa’s cock reaching in even deeper.

He felt close.

(Name) removed his tail from his mouth and used it to wrap around Oikawa’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. Oikawa kissed him back as his thrusting began to become inconsistent. He was also close.

“Inside…” (Name) mewled when Oikawa pulled away from the kiss. He couldn’t get pregnant. Not by a male human but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t like the feeling of cum inside of him.

“You think it’ll take? Some cute little snow leopards.”

(Name) moaned. He wanted that badly.

It took two more thrusts before Oikawa pushed in deep inside to have his orgasm. (Name) was right after him, crying out before moving his tail to muffle it.

Oikawa’s previously slicked back hair was out and wild, covering half of his face as he grinned at (Name). (Name) purred at the sight of him and wrapped his tail around his waist.

Maybe he shouldn’t leave his job so quickly.

“If you guys are done… I’ll just slid the paperwork underneath the door,” the sound of paper sliding from the floor was heard.

The voice was Ushijima.

“Congrats on your new relationship.” Ushijima said before leaving.

Actually, maybe he should find a new job.

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

This was fun to write. Thank you for the request!

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life69

#bottom male reader #x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #oikawa x male reader

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ch3rriiii-bunn · 1 year

Text

Big spoon or little spoon

With the upper moons again bc I love them sm + tamayo <333 links are added too!!!

Warnings: female bodied reader, mention of boobs, touchy demons, hugging, slight mention of killing but in a funny way

Akaza

- both big spoon and little spoon.

- akaza loves holding you like this but also wants you to hold him the same way once in a while

-"You're so warm. Try not to move away from me I'll get cold" and "hold my hands too"

- has a habit of holding your hands and playing with them until he sleeps

- likes to cuddle with you mainly when he sleeps, which is during the day

Douma

- little spoon

- lays on your chest or stomach like this, but mainly your chest. He has a habit of rubbing your stomach and humming

- "youre boobs are softer than my regular pillows!!" and "you smell so nice"

- if his hand isn't on your stomach, it's on your hips so he can pull you as close as he can to you

Kokushibo

- big spoon

- he just likes having your head on his chest with his hand around your waist. Isn't a big fan of your legs being thrown on him, so kokushibo would either push your legs off him or turn himself to face you

- "you're... quite clingy tonight" and "I kind of like this"

- If you're lying on his chest, he likes to grab your hand, putting it on his chest, too. He'll give you forehead kisses but only when you're sleeping and definitely giving them to you when he has to leave while you're sleeping

Nakime

- little spoon

- She doesn't ask. Not because she's shy but because she expects it

- she'll always have her back turned to you and move herself closer and closer to you until you have her like this in your arms

- isn't much of a talker with it but she has her back turned to you to hide her smile and flushed face

Tamayo

- big spoon

- she notices that you move a lot in your sleep and overall a bad sleeper so she likes to hold you like this

- "want me to pet your head until you sleep?" And "y/n wrap your arms around me too. Feel comfortable yet?"

- Tamayo cuddles you when yushiro isn't around. That way, you can sleep without the fear of a demon killing you

Aizetsu

- little spoon

- always runs to you or takes you to you're shared bed and lays on you like this (the one with the cat) when Sekido yells at him or if Karaku and Urogi are just bothering him

- "the sound of your heartbeat is so relaxing..." And "Wait, don't go to the bathroom yet just hold it in"

- very clingy with it and would get very sour if you had to leave him for just a few seconds

Sekido

- little spoon

- this man is not a cuddler. In fact he would either yell at you or push you away, it just has to be a good day when you hold him like this

- "1 minute. That's all you're getting, after that get the fuck off me" and then he's not moving letting you hug him like a big teddy bear until you sleep

- will yell at you in embarrassment if you bring up the times he's let you spoon him

Karaku

- big spoon

- he finds a lot of comfort in your holding boobs but it doesn't mean it sexually (sometimes). His hands will go up your top just to cup your boobs, not caring about the size he just likes hugging in this position to do so

- "stop squirming! I'm not doing anything perverted!" And "they are like squish soft balls"

- likes to nuzzle his face on the back of your neck or shoulder until he sleeps

Urogi

- big spoon

- has you like this in his arms but wraps his legs around you too, whether you're facing him or having your back to him basically locking you in place

- "see? my claws aren't so bad! Other than killing, they're cool and soft, huh?" And "what if we sleep in a tree like this?"

- rests his chin on your shoulder and nuzzles his whole face on your neck to feel more of your warmth

- when he's about to sleep his wings will close in wrapping you both up like a nice thick blanket

#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #akaza x reader #kokushibo x reader #douma x reader #aizetsu x reader #karaku x reader #sekido x reader #urogi x reader #nakime x reader #tamayo x reader #upper moons

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andypantsx3 · 11 months

Note

ANDY U CANT LEAVE US HANGING I NEED MORE DRAGON SHOUTO?,!?.!. please… i think ill die if u dont elaborate WHAT DO U MEAN WE’RE FACE TO FACE WITH HIM… what does he say… what does he DO… i need to know more omfg

Riffing off of @mhathotfic's tags on my original post, which I absolutely loved.

It happens on a cold January evening, just a few months after you've reached your majority.

You escape out into the frosty winter evening to join Shouto, unable to bear your family's increasingly-regular discussions of your marriageability now that you're of age.

Once you dragged home a dragon fledgling, you'd always sort of imagined that the question of your eligibility would be somewhat moot. Not many men wanted a wife who came with little dowry, and even fewer might want one who came with an enormous fire-breathing lizard who barely let her out of his sight.

You thought Shouto would sooner burn down your husband's house than listen to any sounds of discomfort on your wedding night—you didn't think many men would be willing to consummate a union with that threat lingering just beyond the window.

Not that you wanted to be married to any of the village men. Ever since you were little, you'd always had this feeling—a feeling like there was someone out there for you, just out of reach, like they were just a step beyond the next corner. Close, but somehow impossible to catch. So you'd never wanted a husband from the village, and you certainly don't now.

So once the discussion turns towards the topic of your being married yet again over dinner, you excuse yourself, and go out into the night to find Shouto, who is never more than a few hundred meters away.

You find his enormous form easily, his red-and-white patterned scales glittering in the light of a fire he's set, out in the fields you'd found him in as a child, as if he'd somehow anticipated you'd be coming out to him.

He cracks open a fiery blue eye, watching your approach, and lifts a wing as you near him, crowding you between the fire and his warm scales, creating a sort of tent with his wing to keep the heat in, and keep you close to him.

You absently pat his side, sinking down against him, sticking your hands out to the fire.

"They're talking about husbands again," you say, and Shouto cranes his neck around so that he can rest his head across your lap, nearly as large as you are, heavy and warm. You reach out to rest a hand across his snout, petting the glittering scarlet scales there.

You've always known he can understand you, given his reactions to the questions you ask, the way he sometimes watches you with knowing eyes. But how much of what you say to him he truly understands will forever be a mystery, as you'll never be able to ask him.

You think he understands enough, though, to know you're displeased.

"A husband," you repeat in disbelief, scratching over his scales again, listening to the rumble that builds up in his chest almost like a purr. He always likes to be petted, though you get an intentionally blank look from him whenever you dare to bring it up, as though he does not like to be made fun of.

"When they should know you're the only boy for me," you tell him, teasing.

Shouto's eye blinks open again, and you lean back to watch him watching you, something curious in his gaze. You begin to recognize the look for what it usually is—the precedent to some type of mischief—whether that be digging up a garden when he was still the size of a particularly fat cat, to accidentally setting a man's pant leg ablaze when he'd whistled after you, the evening of your sixteenth birthday.

You make a curious noise, and you're just about to ask him what he thinks he's up to when there's a crackle like lightning, and the hot, burning scent of ozone reaches your nose.

There's suddenly a rush of cold air over you, Shouto's massive form gone from around you, and the weight in your lap is suddenly much smaller and lighter.

When you look down, Shouto's head is no longer across your legs. Instead, your gaze meets the perfect pale skin of a very strong, very naked back. You realize belatedly that there is a stranger in your lap, a man with a mop of red-and-white hair, scarlet and snow, who has one warm, muscular arm curled around your waist.

You let out a scream, scrabbling backwards, but the stranger's arm locks around you, and the man's face tips up to yours, blinking curiously.

You freeze, your gaze meeting eerily familiar grey-and-blue eyes, set into the most utterly perfect face you have ever seen. The man's features are careful and exact, the slope of his nose blade-straight, his jawline strong, his mouth pretty and plush and weirdly captivating in the flickering firelight. You cannot help but feel you know him, though you are incredibly certain you have never seen him before.

There would be no forgetting a man as beautiful as this.

"Who the hell are you?" you demand, shock rendering you frozen and dumb.

The man blinks, slow and catlike and so hauntingly recognizable. His eyebrows scrunch, as though something's confused him, and then he speaks, slowly and carefully, as if he's just getting a feel for the shape of words in his mouth.

"I am...Shouto," he says, his voice so deep and smooth. It reminds you so much of the deep, rumbling purr Shouto had just been letting out moments ago—your mouth drops open, disbelieving.

"You're Shouto?" you echo, thrown. Though you're beginning to realize that this devastatingly handsome, distractingly naked man is horribly familiar in hundreds of different ways—from the timbre of his voice to his eyes to his hair to the way his arm suddenly curls even more possessively about your waist, the way Shouto's tail sometimes does to keep you pressed close to him.

And with Shouto the dragon suddenly gone...

"You're my dragon? My Shouto?" you demand.

The man blinks, shifting in your lap so that's he's fully turned towards you. He props up on one hand, his face drawing alarmingly close as his other arm presses you into him. He looks very much as if he likes the sound of that.

"Yes, your Shouto," he purrs, pupils going darker. Your heartbeat suddenly kicks back to life in your chest, stuttering and tripping over itself as his large, hot palm presses proprietarily at the small of your back, as he leans in to bring his mouth close to yours.

"And you..." he says, his tone going rich and smoky and dark, like dragon fire. "You have always been mine."

#andie's writing #i hope this is what u were looking for anon!!!#character: todoroki shouto #dragon shouto au

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eludin · 8 months

Text

THE CROWN'S WHORE | CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS: Addiction themes, sexual content, manipulation, dark themes, incest (this is Westeros people), grooming, and possibly more in the future.

The Realm's Delight wasn't Rhaenyra Targaryen once Vyera Waters started walking and talking. She was unaffected by the sexual moments held within the brothel she called home and would often approach the clients without hesitation. The whores around her try to coral her away, but she had her father's stubbornness. She slipped out of their grasp and pestered the clients for their stories since most were knights, children of lords, or lords in general.

She grinned widely and listened with apt attention, easily washing away the agitation they may have had with a bastard brat bothering their fun times. She made cute and sometimes strange noises at certain parts of the story, dramatically reacting at the more messy bits. They laughed at her very open reactions.

The Gold Cloaks quickly turned into regulars, bearing toys, books, and whatever a little princess could wish for. One smile from Vyera and they melted. They proudly told her stories, not only of themselves but also of her father. They listened just as attentively when she shared stories from her dreams; of talking cats whose grins sent a chill down one's spine and who vanished and reappeared before your eyes, hot deserts with horses made from sand threatening to bury you deep within the dunes, or riding the back of a bird the size of a dragon with feathers made of steal.

Ariston Algood smiled as the girl flipped through her new book. Many prayed for the poor girl to be the occasional late bloomer. That was the only thing keeping her from being thrown into the beasts' den.

Just one more day, one more month, one more year without that light that shone from within her being snuffed out by scum who desired to torment and corrupt that light.

Yet, no Gods answered their prayers.

She had bled a day prior and was now dressed in provocative clothing. No longer the baggy rags she used to wore, but a dress made of thin, almost see through, fabric. It looked peculiar on a girl of nine name days. Only the worst of scum would find pleasure in the sight.

"Riz?"

He smiled and patted her head. "Thinking, squirrel."

Vyera rolled her and scowled at the words sprawled on the page. "Dragon, not squirrel." Her words didn't fit her cuteness as she pouted and patted the thick pages. "And you're supposed to be teaching me how to pronounce these words."

Ariston laughed and joined her on the bed. Books with varying thickness surrounded her and most he never cared to read until Vyera. They never seemed all that interesting. It was just words on the page. What good were words when actions could be seen centuries after the person had passed? Yet, she hugged them close as if they were a fine treasure worth more than the gold mines at Casterly Rock. She brightened up at the usual pleasures, like jewels and beautiful dresses and gifts, but books got a loud and vibrant reaction.

She bounced off the walls of the Whore's Blood Brothel with each book, eagerly snatching from any offering hand and pestering the person to read it with her.

Some of the married lords who visited bonded more with her than their own children. "I wish my children had such a hunger for knowledge as you," said the Heir of Blanetree, running his fingers through her locks. She had preened under his touch and giggled, like a dog eager for treats and praises.

Lord Broom sighed, "A whore's daughter knows duty and grace better than my own daughter."

"Such a pity."

None did anything to change her situation; not that the girl complained. She clung to her mother and the brothel as any child would cling to their home and their mother. A year or two more and that opinion would certainly change.

Ariston leaned closer to Vyera and looked over the page. "Where are you finding difficulty understanding?"

"What does this mean?" she taps at the word abomination.

Fuck.

He peaked at the book's name. Just as he thought, it spoke of the Faith. "Uh... Something going against the order of the Gods. Like, um... the... the Children of the Forest with their magic." Sweat gathered at the base of his neck. "Don't you want to read something else?"

Vyera frowned and stared at him. For a Dragonseed, she resembled her father incredibly close yet there were a few traits none knew where they came from. They knew without uncertainty that Narelle of the Whore's Blood was the girl's mother. Yet she carried traits neither side of her lineage granted. Her eyes were golden and flecked with silver. Her canine teeth were ever so slightly pointier and sharper than most. Even as a child, her features were already showing a sharpness no girl her age naturally possessed. Unlike either parent, she possessed an innate glow that simply compelled every man who entered her presence to shower her with gifts, praises, and affection. Some were less pure than others, but she paid little mind to those types.

Her expression softened once she saw whatever there was in his eyes. "No need. Tis' truly fascinating to read how certain sorts of individuals view the world." She paused, and added, "And don't worry about the stuff on bastards. It doesn't hurt me. I know who I am, and I am not everything that is written in this."

"You are none of what is written."

She smiled and pressed against his side. "Riz?"

"Hm?"

Vyera curled up and hugged herself. Instead of the girl he'd grown to care for, a child frightened off the future revealed herself to him. "The brothel master will want me to lose my maidenhead. Doesn't matter I am a child, he's gonna want evidence." She peaked at him through her dense locks. "I don't want it to be any of the others. I care for them, and I know they would never intend to hurt me. I... Please... Please be the first once my moonblood ends. I... I don't want it to be anyone else."

Oh, fuck… She… As much as he gagged at the thought of any of the Lords lusting over Vyera, it made painful sense.

Ariston was not that far in age from her. Only seven namedays apart. It was still strange yet…

He looked down at the girl who skipped up to him, even when he was running his hands along her mother’s sides. Now that had been mortifying. She smiled widely and rushed him with a hundred different questions. Their second meeting didn’t go any better either. Neither did their third. Yet, she cared for him, eagerly listened to his stories of his home, of his older siblings, of his parents, and now… looked to him for protection from any who wished to destroy whatever innocence she protected with a tiny dagger.

He had no doubt she’d ask any of her other friends the same favor. After all, he couldn’t spend the entire day with her. His pockets did not boast such a fortune. And yet…

“If that is your wish.”

He couldn’t free her from the brothel’s clutches; he couldn’t shower her with luxurious gifts; he couldn’t protect her as he wished. But he could do this.

Vyera Waters smiled. A waning moon in comparison to the usual exuberance.

Want to be tagged? Comment down below "AYE"

@sanya-prose

@gpr2149

@prettylittlelady

@thirteenth-fangirl

@daughterofadream

#got #hotd #house targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #house of the dragon #pre asoiaf #aegon targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen x reader #dance of the dragons #various x reader #reverse harem

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uluvjay · 5 months

Text

Our first Christmas-O. Piastri

Oscar Piastri x fem! Reader

In which you and Oscar celebrate your first Christmas together

Warnings?; kisses, pure fluff, rushed so I apologize for any errors

Day 7 of my ficmas celebration!

You could feel the warmth of his lips trail along your shoulder, his soft hair tickling the back of your neck causing a soft giggle to escape.

“I knew you were awake.” He spoke, his voice deep and full of sleep.

“Don’t wanna get up yet.” You groaned, turning your body so your head could tuck its self into his neck.

“But it’s Christmas.” He pouted.

You sprung up, causing your head to connect with his chin and pained groans to escape both of you.

“Ow.”

“Shit, sorry.” You laughed stroking his chip and applying a small kiss in apology.

“It’s okay, but does this mean we can go open presents now?.” He smiled at you.

“Coffee, then presents?”

“Deal.” He laughed and pulled you out of the warmth of your large bed, following behind him you admired his large frame that was enhanced due to the white shirt he wore.

Making your way into the kitchen Oscar grabbed two mugs from the cabinets while you powered on the coffee pot.

“Do you want regular or the gingerbread coffee?” You questioned, looking through the different coffee pods.

“Regular please.” He smiled politely.

After two fresh cups of coffee the couple found their way into the living room, a soft meow followed by a thump caught their attention just as a furry little body rubbed itself against Oscar’s leg.

“Morning izzy.” Oscar greeted their orange tabby, reaching down to pick the small cat up.

The cat purred at Oscar’s touch, immediately nudging her head against his hand for more attention.

“Hi pretty.” You spoke in your baby voice, placing a kiss to her head before Oscar sat her down and made his way over to the tree.

“Open this one first.” He blushed handing you a small box that took him much longer then he’d like to admit to wrap.

You smiled at him before ripping into the paper, underneath was a square velvet box that held a new set of beautiful diamond earrings.

“Oh Oscar they’re gorgeous.” You cried, jumping to your feet to pull him into a hug.

“You like em?”

“I love them baby, thank you.” You kissed him sweetly before running to get him one of his gifts.

Many presents and a mountain of wrapping paper later Oscar handed you your last gift.

“Saved the best for last.” He smiled handing you a medium sized box.

You shook it jokingly trying to hear what was inside due to how light the box was but there wasn’t any shuffling from the inside.

Looking up at Oscar questionably you raised an eyebrow that he laughed at, “just open it”

You laughed along with him before removing the paper and opening the cardboard box revealing a glass ornament.

However it wasn’t just any normal ornament, on the front there were two human bodies and an orange cat in the middle, all three wearing red Santa hats.

Below each figure held names, Y/n, Izzy, and Oscar and right below that ‘CHRISTMAS 2023’ was written in bright red.

“Turn it around.”

Listening to Oscar you turned the ornament around in your hands and on the back there was a small message inscribed.

Happy first Christmas my love, here’s to many more

- Oscar

You didn’t realize you were crying until you saw the tear land on the ornament, wiping it away as well as the ones streaming down your cheeks you stood to pull Oscar into your arms.

“I love it.” You sobbed, tucking your head into his neck.

“I’m glad baby, took me and izzy a while to pick it.” He laughed softly as he remembered the cat sitting beside him the whole time he scrolled on the website.

He held you in his arms for a while longer until the sound of his phone ringing from the couch pulled you two out of your little bubble.

“It’s mum.” He spoke as he picked up the device.

You two spoke to his family for a while before it was time to clean up the living room, Oscar tackled the trash while you began breakfast.

Coming into the kitchen he wrapped his arms around you from behind and placed a sweet kiss to the side of your head.

“I love you so much.” He whispered

“I love you too, thank you for an amazing Christmas.” You smiled as you leaned into him.

“You are very welcome.” He giggled tucking himself into your neck.

#oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 #f1blr #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #oscar piastri blurb #jay’sficmas

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hockpock · 7 months

Text

Glasses Review - Firmoo

Hello vision impaired friends, I bring you the gospel of Ordering Your Damn Glasses Online

I have previously ordered from EyeBuyDirect (luxotica/lenscrafters'/America's Best in disguise, sorry.) and Zenni Optical ( most well known online provider, A+ would recommend) and have seen lots of ads for free pairs from a competitor, Firmoo. I have too much prescription for the free pair offers to ever work out from ANY provider, but their fun designs put them on my list.

When my current glasses broke, I was dinking around and saw their current promotion is Buy One Get One Free PLUS 20% off lenses and as lenses are the real $$$ I jumped on that like tigger on crack. I am VERY nearsighted with astigmatism and the average pair of glasses from lenscrafters used to cost me $300 minimum.

After much deliberation with a million tabs open and a poll I ignored the results of for Reasons, I ordered a pair of clear frames and a pair of purple steampunk-y wireframes . Two pairs of HIGH PRESCRIPTION glasses for $87 shipped. I could cry, y'all.

Note: I have an up to date prescription and a nifty app that measures Pupillary Distance or 'PD'. you will need both these things accurate to have the best experience buying your glasses online.

I ordered them 9/22, they shipped 9/25, I received them 9/29 with regular shipping. They came well packed - each pair was in a bag made of cleaning cloth material inside a sturdy plastic case and they come in a foil bubble mailer.

Both pairs feel well made, with lots of attention to detail-

however I did not pay attention to detail or pay extra money for the Re-he-heaaallly thin lenses. So the clear ones are slightly too big and I hate the way the nose pieces sit, while the purple ones are a wee bit small across the temple and heavy to boot. I haven't had dents in my nose like this since I was 12.

the website lists their exchange policy as 30 days, the pamphlet that came with the glasses says 60. Either way it was pretty painless to go into my order history and select "exchange". The form I filled out with my reasons for dissatisfaction promised me I would be contacted within 24 hours.

My 'personal Firmoo consultant', 'Karen', emailed me with a code for the full price before discount of both pairs + standard shipping, as well as the usual customer service canned answers about checking the sizing information and did I know I could upgrade the lenses?

Also I could keep the failed pairs 'FOR NOW', here are some places that accept glasses as donations. (mixed messages, Karen, but sweet!)

New friends are April006, round anodized wireframes with a cute dingly gem thing, and Sandy020 , literal tortoiseshell cat eye frames.

This time I used the site's search terms to cut the temple width and earpiece length options down and double checked the weight of the base frames. (14g vs 24g for the round wireframes before my coke-bottle lenses. RIP my nose. )

New order was placed 10/5 and they arrived 10/17 . (last time I checked the tracking estimated arrival had creeped from the 19th up to the 23rd so grain of salt. This may be a tactic to make the order feel like it got here faster or legit delays. In my case there was a federal holiday involved.)

Complete disclosure I'm gonna grab a pair of pliers and take the little dangly off the wireframes. It makes a noise when I move my head and if I don't fold the frames in the right order when I take them off it'll scratch up the lenses. I ain't gonna remember to avoid that, so off it goes.

The Good:

Large selection, Good Quality, Good Communication. Lots of Off the Beaten Path options for internet weirdos. Firmoo p much always has a promotion going.

My wallet is so happy. SO HAPPY. Frames run $20-30ish to start. lenses will vary with your prescription and options.

If y'all want 50% off your first frames and to give me a $10 credit they have a referral program and my code is T4Z8I2. BOGO20 is a better value but it expires 11/01/23.

The Bad:

Not flexible about lens options- you go down one track and pick your options within that. If there was a way to put tinting on a pair of glasses other than blue light blocking I couldn't find it. (in contrast I believe Zenni lets you choose a range of colors and tint depth on any pair, designed as sunnies or not)

You Will Get Emails. Firmoo REALLY wants you to buy more glasses and post about it and tell your friends and HERE THIS CODE IS ONLY GOOD FOR 3 DAYS, GO BUY NEW GLASSES. They are marketing themselves to fashionable young influencers who change styles every month. Unsubscribe with impunity.

like Zenni, this is a company with the majority of it's functionality based overseas. It's cheaper because you're ordering directly from a factory and not paying Luxotica's markups to itself. Customer service is mostly English as Second Language speakers and there may be delays.

Not For Emergencies. I was able to coast on a pair of glasses from a prescription or 2 ago but it's gonna take time for your order to be made and shipped.

Overall I'm very happy with them and will probably order again.

Next time I have spare money I'm aiming at Wherelight because y'all. they are next down on the list of reputable to shady AF but they have the most amazing WTF designs.

#glasses #low vision #review #pock posts a thing #firmoo.com #vision impaired #long post

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afewproblems · 1 year

Text

Steve always falls first, falls fastest.

It happened three years ago with Nancy, it happened with Robin back before the bathroom confession cemented their platonic soulmate status. It happened with Lauren MacNeal in Steve's freshman year, and Cindy Carlile back when he was eight years old.

He knows himself and knows the beginning stages. It's always quick and never painless, and seems to hurt more with every passing year. A dull ache in his chest that throbs and whispers darkly, 'remember Harrington, you'll always be bullshit'.

And when he finds himself falling for one Eddie Munson, he knows exactly when it starts.

Movie nights became a regular thing shortly after Eddie was discharged from the hospital. Robin, Steve, and Eddie all pile into the Harrington living room or the Munson trailer every other week, it's too hard to be apart.

Really, it becomes a way to keep a late night conversation going with Eddie while the credits roll, Robin dozes on the beanbag in the corner and Steve can't help but stare.

Eddie is so animated when he talks about something he loves, his brown eyes light up with his thousand watt smile and the dimples come out in full force, Steve almost has to squint with the amount of natural sunshine this man emanates when he talks about his passions.

He says as much to Robin during their next shift and she can't help but roll her eyes and gag, "Steven Remington Harrington-"

"Not my name," Steve cuts in with a laugh as he stuffs their second copy of the Shining into the machine to rewind.

"Don't interrupt dingus," Robin continues imperiously, "I get it, you have heart-eyes for the guy, but you gotta stop gushing about him to me and tell him".

Steve rolls his eyes and ignores the way his stomach swoops at the thought of telling Eddie how he feels, and the realization that it's happening again.

"I-I mean, it's not like I'm in love with the guy Robin, he stutters out eventually, "it'll go away, or he'll find someone else to talk to, they always do eventually".

He focuses on picking up the stack of freshly rewound tapes and walking them into the shelves, avoiding Robin's silent sad look that bores into the back of his head as he hides in the stacks.

Weeks turn into months and Steve absorbs nearly everything he can about Eddie.

He wears a size 10 shoe, but the 'shit-kicking' steel toes always look a smidge bigger - the inch or two it adds to Eddies height doesn't hurt either as Steve finds he has to tilt his head up to meet Eddie's gaze when he's decked out in his metal gear for a show...

He got his first guitar when he went to live with Wayne, it was a simple acoustic that he learned his chords on and practiced CCR on to his uncles delight.

He hates orange juice and loves coffee.

He loves cats and is scared to death of birds.

Every detail draws Steve in, but that small voice in the back of his mind reminds him again and again, 'they always leave Steve, don't get too comfortable'.

But how could he not?

Eddie is comfortable, he's nice and funny, and seems to enjoy hanging out with Steve almost as much as Steve enjoys being with Eddie. There is a softness to him when they're alone that makes Steve feel safe.

So what if he doesn't feel the same, Steve isn't about to give this up.

Not yet.

Steve takes to dropping by the Corroded Coffin band practice every weekend, a six pack in one hand and a small wary smile on his face - he's still not entirely accepted by Gareth and Jeff but the beer helps and Eddie vouches for him every time.

The atmosphere is still somewhat stilted, but it isnt as icy as it had been. Now Gareth even sits with him after practice while Eddie and Jeff go over their solos just outside the door as they share a joint, blowing smoke rings into the evening air.

"You know," Gareth says one night to Steve as he plops down beside him onto the sunken couch in the garage, "If someone had told me in high school I'd be sitting here with King-Steve and sharing a beer after practice, I'd laugh in their face".

Steve fights down a wince at the mention of the old nickname, and nods once. Who was he kidding, 'King-Steve' was not something he'd ever be able to outrun.

"So," Gareth continues, tapping his hands against the neck of the bottle, "how's the crush going?"

Steve chokes on his beer and swings his hand up to pound his fist into his chest to loosen up the liquid, Gareth claps him on the back with an alarmed expression on his face.

"Jesus Harrington, y'alright?" Gareth says as Steve tries to catch his breath.

Steve nods and breathes deeply through his nose, his eyes flick to the open garage door to see if Eddie or Jeff are on their way back inside, "I-I don't think I heard you right," he manages with a rasp.

Gareth snorts and shakes his head, leaning back against the couch. He's quiet for a moment, eyes trained on Steve's face.

Steve, for his part, stares resolutely at the floor hoping his gaze is strong enough to burn a hole into the concrete he can jump into.

"Look," Gareth says after a beat, "I guess its not really any of my business Harrington," his eyes travel over to the open door before flicking back to Steve, "and I don't mean to sound like a prick when I say this, but you're not really his type man".

Something in Steve's throat pulls tight, bullshit echoes in the hollow cavity of his chest as he nods and swallows the last dreggs of his beer.

"Right," Steve mumbles, he puts his hands on his knees and stands up from the couch, "Right, yeah, I mean, makes sense...".

He crosses to the door and manages to toss the now empty can into an open bin they'd officially commandeered for empties.

"Dude," Gareth says softly standing as well, he makes no move to walk towards Steve though.

Steve waves a hand and drops the other to his back pocket to hide the sudden trembling. Gareth is right, it doesn't make sense. Why would someone like Eddie ever want to be with someone like Steve? How would that even work?

Always fast but never painless, right on time.

"You guys were uh, great as usual, I'll see you around man," Steve says with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, he hasn't had to pull out the 'King Steve' smile in a few years but it still fits, still manages to hide a few things.

He turns away from Gareth and walks out through the open garage door.

The sun is nearly below the horizon and the stars have begun to migrate, the inky blue of night begins to steep into the last vestiges of light, if he's careful he can slip past Eddie and Jeff without either of them noticing.

He makes it to the beemer before Eddie turns towards him.

Eddie's brown eyes widen before narrowing in a questioning stare, he opens his mouth but Steve opens the car door and quickly slides into the driver's seat.

He stares straight ahead as he backs out of the driveway and pulls out onto the road.

Steve can feel those brown eyes follow him as he makes the long drive back to his empty house.

Part Two Now Up!

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #fanfic #hurt steve harrington #stranger things season four #is it bad that i love to hurt my favourite characters?#hurt and not a whole helluva lot of comfort #oblivious eddie munson #made myself sad with this one

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 7 months

Text

Pumpkin spice

Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader

Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), a cheesy (romantic) date, a short appearance of Mike The Idiot TM, awkwardness, a lot of coffee and abuse of a cable knit... I think that's it?

A/N: Another promise made to @deandoesthingstome. I swear this woman is responsible for half the stuff on my masterlist at this point. Credit for the other half goes to @geralts-yenn of course. This time, it was - of course - because I made the mistake of adding one of the - according to her - more attractive Henry-shaped men to the Coffee+Cats universe. Naturally, grumpy coffeeshop manager Walter needed a hug and some good head, and Charlie volunteered, so here we are.

What we're left with is a crazy crossover between the Coffee+Cats AU and the 179th Crescent Street AU, because this is - indeed, for the people who are familiar with Crescent Street - the librarian!reader from After Hours.

@ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

The brooding man behind the counter has been getting on your nerves for weeks. His only crime is ‘getting your order right’, which shouldn’t even be all that surprising, because that’s his job – if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to know exactly what it’s going to be before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak.

“What can I do for you today?” He could look less godlike, maybe? Don’t say that. Or he could smell worse? Or that. Or he could not smile in a way that seemed to make the earth stop spinning. Very dramatic, also don’t say that.

“Ehh…” Brilliant. Someone should give you an award for that monologue. Shake it off. “Since when do I have to order for myself?”

Alright, you’ve made him chuckle – God, that’s a delicious sound – and look away. Now what? “I’m sorry,” he says, still avoiding your eyes, “I can’t read you today. But you seem annoyed enough with me to make me want to make whatever you’re going to order lukewarm in case I get it thrown in my face later.”

“That’s too bad,” you say, “I was really hoping to get a recommendation.” Because you only know what you want to order when you’re here for coffee. And you’re not here for coffee. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, why are you getting coffee today?” Son of a bitch! It’s a good thing the shop is slow right now, so you’re not holding anyone up with your… is it flirting? God, let it be flirting! No, definitely not flirting. Or maybe…?

“Maybe it’s not the coffee so much as the company,” you say shyly. Yeah, flirting. Qualitatively very poor flirting, but still. It stays quiet on the other side of the counter for a beat too long, which sends your anxiety through the roof.

“So, how about she has whatever you’re having when you go on your break in about... A minute and a half?” The voice belongs to Mike, the almost annoyingly upbeat barista you’ve seen around countless times. He’s responsible for at least half the college crowd that flocks to this place, because he’s a cutie. A little young, maybe, but he has a nice ass.

“I was going to go with a regular old espresso.” He smiles apologetically.

“You look like you could do with a double.” God, that’s a horrible line.

It’s Mike who ends up laughing. “He could do with way more than a double,” he snickers, shooing Walter away from the cash register. “Get out of here, or I’m getting you both pumpkin spice lattes.”

Walter shudders at the thought. He never struck you as the kind of guy who likes his coffee sweet, and you’re happy you’re right. At least… You think you’re right until you see the little twinkle in Mike’s eyes. Granted, that happens a lot, but never for nothing, and the little wink he throws your way suggests he knows his boss has a secret pumpkin spiced sweet tooth he doesn’t want the world to know about. So you pretend not to notice.

When you’re finally settled at a table, you talk for what feels like forever, your knees touching under the table. You’d expected him to move his leg out of the way when you first bumped into it accidentally, but he didn’t. Then, as your conversation went on, more and more of your legs got mixed up together.

“Walter?” For the love of God, why? “I hate to break up your date, but a whole sorority just walked in and I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m on my break, Mike,” Walter grumbles in return, clearly not happy about the interruption. That’s a good sign, right?

“Your break, Mr. Manager, sir, ended forty-five minutes ago.” Mike would make a great wingman, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems a little keen to pat himself on the back for his efforts. “Give her your number and come do your job.” With a dramatic sigh, he walks back to where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Walter says with an apologetic smile on his face. You shrug it off – it really doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even supposed to have spent the better part of the past hour with you – and slide your phone towards him.

A poetry reading in a – different – coffeeshop in town. That’s where he suggests you go. First, any man who is creative enough to come up with something other than ‘a drink’ or ‘dinner’ is worth a shot in your book, but when they’re of the dark, gloomy, burly variety; all the better. And no three-day-wait nonsense, either. He calls you right after his shift ends, and asks you to meet him in two hours.

It's barely a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment, which leaves you with plenty of time to complain quietly to yourself that an hour and forty-five minutes is not enough time to get dressed for a date, while getting dressed for your date. You manage with time to spare – five whole minutes – which you spend pensively checking out your outfit in every imaginable angle in the mirror on your bedroom door. You toy with the hem of the skirt you’re wearing, fondly remembering another time you put it on. You’re not one to kiss and tell, so only a few of your closest friends know the crudest of outlines to the story of your scandalous liaison in the university library – and the long night that followed. Not that you’re particularly happy that those same friends, to this day, still tease you about how you – a grown woman – let yourself get talked into a night in student housing with a guy just about so much younger than you that you really didn’t want to even begin doing the math, but you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything in the whole world.

One look at your watch tells you it was time to go, and with trembling hand you open the door of your apartment. It had been sheer, dumb luck that even got you this place in the first place. It's tiny – just the second floor of a beautiful old townhouse – and narrow, but it has a separate bedroom, which was all you could really wish for with your income, anyway. During this time of year, the street it was on looks like a picture; orange leaves bravely cling to the steadily baring branches of the trees, and litter the ground, making for the perfect autumn scene. The sight also never fails to make you more desperate than usual – even for you – for coffee.

You’ve always enjoyed the fall, including all its necessary trials and tribulations – slippery sidewalks that weren’t quite suited for folks with your level of coordination, the unannounced rain that mercilessly drenched you and your absolutely everything in the early morning so that the sleeves of your coat would be unbearably wet when you put it on later in the afternoon, the cold that had you shivering and covered in goosebumps more often than not, and your toes. Freezing. Always. On that front, living in an old, drafty apartment with less-than-efficient heating isn’t exactly your top choice. Oh well.

The coffeeshop is – as per your calculations – a little less than a fifteen-minute walk away from your place, and you dread being early. Getting there first. Waiting for him. Fortunately, when you round the corner, you see him standing outside. You happily note that he is standing there – again, outside – in nothing but a dark cable-knit sweater, jeans and sturdy shoes that are the most weather-appropriate part of his outfit as far as you’re concerned.

“Hello.” His blue eyes smile down on you, and you barely remember your own damn name. Was he always this tall? This big? This handsome? A nervous smile will have to serve as your answer, because you’re at a complete loss for words. He doesn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, you stand there, simply staring sheepishly into his eyes, until finally a drop of rain falls right on the tip of your nose, pulling you from your trance at once. “We should get inside,” you say softly.

Walter reaches an arm out. “After you,” he says with the same kind smile in his eyes. You pick a table in the corner, settling nicely on the comfortable couch, while Walter grabbed the two of you coffee.

“Pumpkin spice,” you chuckle when he returns with two identical steaming cups. He nods, a playful smile in his eyes, only. “Is Mike the only one who knows your secret?” Your nerves convince you that your shot at playful banter goes wide, until Walter sits down and chuckled.

“There’s, eh… There’s this woman,” he says softly. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit in the chair opposite you, but he joins you on the couch. As the café is filling up, another customer quickly confiscates the chair Walter isn’t using.

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell,” you say, your voice trembling as you briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t referring to you.

When the reading ends, you linger until the shop closes – which isn’t too long after, but still, you find it comforting in the sense that you’re simply glad Walter doesn’t try to run as soon as he can. Outside, the rain has picked up, and if the autumn air was chilly before, now, it’s downright icy. Despite his lacking a jacket or coat, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Walter, and though the rain clearly does, he offers to walk you home – an offer, mind you, he’s not intent on allowing you to decline.

It would have been obvious to anyone just under half as nervous as you are, but neither of you seem to be in a hurry to get you home, despite the rain, both clearly dragging out the little time you both think is still left to this date. Until you reach your front door, that is, and you both look at each other.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” Is that your voice? Your invitation? And is that him? Accepting your offer? Apparently it is, because he follows you in when you open the door. The stairs to your floor are almost too narrow for him, and he has to watch his head for that one ridge in the ceiling of the stairwell that you never look out for because you’re small enough to never have it bother you. “This is me,” you say nervously as you open the door and invite him into your place. He seems comically large in your tiny living room, and you barely manage to suppress a chuckle. “Coffee?”

“Please!” he says before he shivers visibly.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry,” you say as you realize – what you consider – your error. “I shouldn’t have… You must be wanting to get home and get out of your wet clothes, I…” A hand on your cheek and the heat that, despite being soaked through and through, radiates off his body cuts you off mid-apology.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of these clothes,” he says slowly, his voice dark and husky in a way that makes your breath stick in the back of your throat for a moment, “but I don’t see a reason to wait until I get home to do that.” Without waiting for a response, he captures your lips in a scorching hot kiss that almost make you forget that both of you have wandered – slowly – through the pouring rain for nearly fifteen minutes.

Large hands gently tug your coat off your shoulders until a single move of your arms makes it drop to the floor, then they’re at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips are gentle, surprisingly soft, and his beard scratches against your cold skin. When you reach for his face, and your fingers connect with his skin, he inhales sharply.

“Are your hands made of ice?” he mumbles against your lips, his lips pulling away in a grin. He takes your hands away from his face, draping your arms around his neck instead, where you weave your fingers into his messy curls. They’re all but soaked from the rain, and part of you wants to offer him a towel, but another – much bigger – part of you swears it will die if not attached firmly to big, big man. Walter pulls you close, not expecting an answer to his question, and carefully slides his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. You do, and you allow yourself to be swept away by the gentle yet thorough way in which his tongue explores your mouth, dances with yours.

With near-greedy impatience, you push him back, towards the door of your bedroom, longing so desperately to feel more of this man than you currently are. ‘Stumble’ is an apt descriptor for the way you cross the threshold into your room. Here, too, he seems almost too large for the space – which is so small that from where he’s standing, he couldn’t fall in any direction without hitting a wall. Your bed covers the whole wall beneath the window, easily taking up half the space, with your wardrobe taking up most of what’s left. You might have fit another bookcase in there, if it weren’t for the fact that you prefer your bathroom door actually closes.

Without thinking, you reach for the hem of his sweater, your fingers purposely lingering on the skin beneath, which – despite being damp from the rain – still radiates heat. Under your touch, his grip on your waist tightens, and his abs twitch. There’s more muscle to him than you’d thought, and you find another pleasant surprise when you rake your fingers over his stomach. So pleasant, in fact, that you can’t suppress a soft chuckle. Nothing says ‘perfect fall hookup’ like a deliciously hairy man. Now, if only that damned – and dampened – sweater would come off, that would be so amazing…

Frustrated groans escape the both of you when the garment puts on more of a fight than any sweater has the right to, and as soon as it’s on the floor, Walter kicks it out of the room for good measure. Your hands eagerly travel the now-exposed skin of his chest and back, making him shiver and moan loudly as you drag a single fingernail softly down his spine. He captures your lips again, stringing you along into the depths of another scorching kiss, fingers working diligently to untuck your sweater from your skirt. A soft growl slips from his throat as he finishes his mission, only to encounter the fabric of the blouse you’re wearing underneath the sweater – you really do get cold easily. This time, he is far less friendly in his approach, pulling almost recklessly at the fabric that finds itself so rudely between your body and his greedy touch.

Your sweater meets a fate similar to his, and your hands make quick work of just enough buttons of your blouse that you can pull the thing over your head while his hands continue their exploration slightly further down, following the soft curve of your ass and pulling you closer to him as he goes. His mouth barely leaves yours – he alternates between using just the right amount of tongue, and nipping at or sucking on your bottom lip. Paired with his obviously horny impatience, it’s nothing short of divine.

You can’t wrap your head around how warm his hands feel on your skin, but the contrast with the chilly air of the room is both staggering and arousing. Not that Walter had thus far been unsuccessful in arousing you – quite the opposite, in fact. His lips move to your neck while his hands roam your back and sides, hesitant to grab more of you. What does he think you’re going to do? Object?

Your hands are already undoing his belt, eager to take the final pieces of wet fabric off him so you can finally seek the solace of your warm bed, and he lets you, kicking off his shoes while you struggle with the buckle. Finally, he takes over, taking care of the tricky metal contraption with one hand while staring directly into your eyes. It’s at that moment that you finally realize what all of this is doing to you…

The arrogant little smirk on his face while he licks his lips doesn’t help – the whole thing sends shivers down your spine and your body answers with a greedy throb between your thighs. You manage to kick your own boots off before Walter mercilessly tackles you to the bed. With a single, swift move, he rolls you both over, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands firmly on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with admirable determination. His face does a poor job of hiding the fact that he likes what he’s feeling.

When you bend over to press your lips to his again, you shriek in surprise as his hand disappears from its newfound playground and lands there again, only a moment later, with a firm smack. He shoots an apologetic look at you as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his by means of a faux-admonishment you’re nowhere near serious about. A man like that can manhandle the ever-loving fuck out of you every damn day. When he groans, your insides turn to jelly. In the heat of everything that’s been happening, you haven’t exactly been paying attention to what this has been doing to him, but that move of your hips makes you instantly aware of the very impressive erection you’re sitting right on top of. Another moan escapes him when you repeat the motion, his hands grabbing your ass tighter – nudging you, urging you to keep moving.

Suddenly, he sits up on the edge of the bed, keeping you in his lap, his hands finally moving underneath the fabric of your skirt. Walter moans again – appreciatively, this time – when his fingers explore the soft lace of your underwear. Then, he chuckles. “For someone who gets cold a lot…”

“Shut up,” you reprimand him before kissing him hard. The line between fun and functional is thin, and it wasn’t that you were expecting to end up in bed with this guy, but you sure as hell were hoping you would, and peeling off tights in the heat of the moment has proven disastrous on many occasions thus far. You shiver when he runs his hands up and down your thighs, lingering just above your knee, where his fingers toy with the hem of your thigh-high socks – an absolute requirement in your marginally successful attempt to not freeze to death – and you feel his cock twitch as he does. He likes them. Good.

Apparently, your smirk is too much for him, because he grabs the backs of your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, and Walter hovers over you, diligently seeking out the most sensitive spots on your neck. He kisses a blazing hot trail down your chest, pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your waist. You can almost feel his gaze between your legs, and the way he licks his lips wrings a whimper from your lips. Seconds pass in which you anxiously wait for his reaction – a mocking grin, a victorious chuckle or a vicious smirk filled with pity – but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a hand on your thigh, creeping higher until you’re not sure if ‘thigh’ is still an appropriate label. His thumb softly trails the thin fabric between your legs. The smile that appears on his face isn’t mocking, cocky or challenging – it’s peaceful and almost grateful in a way you don’t quite understand.

“My turn to get you out of your soaking wet clothes.” It’s a joke, absolutely, but it’s a gentle one, just like his hands are when he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulls them down.

You’re holding your breath. At first you don’t notice – it really isn’t until his hands slide up your thighs again and you suck in a desperate breath that you realize just how welcome the air is. He pushes your legs apart, settling comfortably between them before using his thumbs to spread your pussy wide. Insecurities plague your brain. You should feel exposed. Insecure. Uncomfortable.

You don’t.

Walter looks up at you with a question in his eyes, and you mouth a breathless answer to his unspoken query. Please. Carefully, he inches closer, until you feel the tickle of the coarse hair on his jaw against the sensitive skin of your thigh. You can see the shiver travel down his spine as he licks a single stripe through your folds, and you moan in unison. Almost immediately, your hand weaves into his hair, pulling his face closer to your center.

He's thorough, relentlessly lapping at your clit while you squirm in his arms, strong hands firmly pressed to the back of your thighs, keeping your legs open for him while he takes his time exploring you, tasting your arousal and learning what works for you. After some time, you notice he settles into a rhythm that might actually work for you, which – as you’re somewhat reluctant to admit, even to yourself – is a rather rare feat. Encouraged by the movement of your hips and the sounds you make, he continues on his mission, and before long your grip on his hair tightens and your squirming gets worse – so much worse, in fact, that he reaches around your thigh to steady your hips against his mouth.

Outside, the rain threatens to turn into a thunderstorm, and if you’d been in any position to notice the weather, you’d have been happy to be inside. As things are, you’re still quite content with your whereabouts, but luckily for completely different reasons. Your back arches off the bed when you come, crying out Walter’s name as you do. With trembling legs, you lay there, your walls pulsing and clenching around nothing. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his lips never leaving you as he kisses a path up your body again, effortlessly reaching for the clasp of your bra on your back. He doesn’t find it – your favorite just happens to close in the front. Once found, however, that pesky clasp is no match for his capable fingers, and only a moment later you’re shivering as the cold air of your bedroom brushes past your exposed nipples.

He looks at you briefly before latching onto your neck again, gently sucking and biting your skin, making you shiver. One hand finds its way to your chest, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, fingers brushing tentatively past your hardening nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. You whine, writhing against the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your skin – the result of the electrifying combination of the slightest sheen of sweat meeting cool air. He grins. Chuckles. Then, he bends his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, that capable tongue passing over it, toying with it, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin, luring cries of pleasure from you in abundance.

Your hands all but scramble for the waistband of his underwear, slipping into the dark boxer briefs without a trace of patience. Fuck. Fingers wrap around – try to, at least – his unapologetically massive cock, images of that one night flashing before your eyes as you give him a few gentle strokes. A trembling exhale tells you your ministrations are appreciated, and you smile, hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg – a hope that is soon confirmed truth when he lets out a loud moan as you run your thumb gingerly over the underside of his cock.

A hand on the back of his neck, pulling softly, is enough to guide him to lie down next to you, and he smiles up at you when you sit on your knees. He’s all too eager to help you get rid of his underwear, and when you take your sweet time taking him in, in all his glory, he almost looks shy.

You start with a light kiss on his lips, then work your way down, fingers trailing the expanse of his chest, dragging slowly through the coarse hair on it, further and further down over his abs until they meet his hips, where they linger to draw teasingly light patterns on his skin. A featherlight touch of your lips to the tip of his cock makes him twitch and groan, and a soft tap on your ass urges you to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and with the tip of your tongue, you circle the head, teasing him until he’s impatiently moaning. His hand hooks around your thigh and pulls you closer – at first you wonder why, but soon after, his fingers run along your slit, searching for your entrance.

He pushes two fingers into your wet core exactly when you swallow as much of his cock as you possibly can, and both of you let out a long moan at the same time. You bob your head up and down his shaft in the same rhythm his fingers pump into you. It’s easy to figure out he likes it sloppy, and you’re happy to oblige. With the delicious symphony of moans and grunts that spill from his lips as an inspiration, you’re enjoying yourself greatly – which makes it all the more disappointing when he pulls his fingers back, a sharp smack on your ass breaking your concentration.

“Come here,” he says huskily, impatiently tugging at your arm.

You straddle his thighs again, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand to grab a condom, and waiting entirely impatiently for him to put it on. Normally, you’re somewhat nervous about being on top, but tonight, you couldn’t care less. You need this man inside of you.

Now.

Walter helps guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself, screwing your eyes shut at the stretch his incredible girth provides. Nails dig into his shoulder so hard he hisses, and you rest your head on his shoulder, whining pitifully against his skin.

“Easy,” he shushes you, sensing whatever distress you’re feeling, “take your time.” His permission helps; you slow down, and steadily make it all the way down his length. You take a moment to get used to the stretch, gradually relaxing around him. It feels no less full, but definitely increasingly less uncomfortable. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. It’s impossible to keep quiet – luckily, you’re not the only one who can’t seem to hold their tongue. Soft praise is mixed in with the abundance of expletives that come out of Walters mouth. “That’s it.” A personal favorite of yours, especially when he says it – a gravelly snarl through gritted teeth.

You could ride him forever – sure, your thighs will be sore tomorrow, but it’ll all have been worth it. Right? He clearly has other plans, pushing you off him unceremoniously. You’re on your stomach, and you half expect him to turn you around – but he doesn’t. Rough hands drag you to your knees, and – knowing what’s about to happen – you don’t bother raising yourself up on your elbows. They’ll give out in no time, anyway. Walter lines up behind you and sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust that has you gasping for air. He’s rough and demanding, yet kind and careful, clearly trying not to hurt you. Every thrust wrenches a moan from your lips, and your hand snakes between your legs, fingers drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss. His laughter when you beg him for more, harder, faster is largely obscured by the sound of rolling thunder outside the window. Your orgasm, when it finally does rip through you like an explosion, is theatrically accompanied by an almost unnaturally well-timed lightning strike.

“Dramatic,” Walter notes dryly behind you, his strained voice signaling his stamina knows a limit after all. In a moment of poetic justice, the storm lulls for a moment when Walter’s orgasm forces a sound from him that could be described as many things, but not ‘charming’. When he pulls out, your walls clench against nothing, and you whine softly at the somehow overwhelming emptiness. “Bathroom?” Walter asks, pointing at the other door in your bedroom. You nod, speechless, before collapsing on your bed.

His return marks the start of that awkward hooked-up-on-the-first-date-dance. Stay? Go? Hookup? Date? Yes? No? You sigh your relief when Walter hesitates for the shortest possible moment before crawling under the covers with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and allowing you to snuggle into his chest.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice. “It’s raining.”

“Is that the only reason you want to stay?” you chuckle. It’s strange. Normally you wouldn’t be so confident he hadn’t been genuine in his remark.

“Well, eh…” he mutters as he nuzzles your hair, “there’s this woman…”

The sun is an unwelcome intruder in your house the next morning, and you do your very best to hide from the rays as long as possible. A new preferred method: burying your face in Walter’s chest. A very nice added bonus to the approach is that it comes with strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight. As far as you’re concerned – and you’re well aware that it’s a little soon to say this after one date, but it’s not like you’re planning on proposing today – you’re not letting this man walk, ever again. He didn’t complain when you warmed your icy feet against his legs yesterday, and the only reaction you get out of him when you put your cold hands on his body is a low grumble and an involuntary shiver.

“Morning,” he groans after a while. By now, you’re awake enough to at least make an attempt at playing host.

“Coffee?” you ask – a suggestion that’s met with an approving grunt.

On your way to the kitchen, you come across his discarded and banned-from-the-bedroom sweater – and you make the mistake of stepping on it, shrieking in surprise when the damp fabric touches your already cold foot. Coffee first, you decide.

“I have some bad news,” you say as you enter your bedroom with two cups of coffee in your hands, his sweater dangling from your pinky. “This is still wet.”

“Oh, god, no,” Walter says with a smile, “whatever will we do to pass the time until it dries?”

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #night hunter

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mybutcheredtongue · 4 months

Text

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER FOUR (see full series list here)

1992

You awake on a regular Wednesday morning a few days before the return to school, groaning and stretching as you sit up in your queen-sized bed. The sun is streaming in through your windows, and you can hear birds singing their first few melodies of the morning.

You hear a very croaky meow from beside you and you look over to spot Dubh awakening from her slumber, seeming very angry about it being awoken. Dubh's actual bed is resting in the corner of the room, but it has long since been forgotten and she much prefers to sneak up onto your bed covers during the night. This little habit of hers means you've had to deliver a quick cleaning spell to her every night before bed, but you enjoy her company anyways. You reach out and pet her lovingly, scratching under her fluffy chin.

"Yes, yes, good morning, Dubh," you say. You yawn, trying to muster up the will to properly get out of bed, before eventually you manage to swing your legs over the edge of your bed and step onto the soft rug beneath you.

You throw on your favourite pair of jeans and a sweater to accompany it, taking a quick minute to wash your face before heading downstairs and into the kitchen. Dubh follows you the whole time, complaining as she waits for you to get her breakfast.

This is the home you've lived in for the past 13 years. The home yourself and Sirius had bought after you got married. It's small and cosy: exactly how you had wanted. The walls are covered with photo frames and beautiful oil paintings that look straight out of a dream.

The kitchen is charming, especially as it's lit up by the August sun. You push open a window to let some air in, waving your wand to pour out some cat food for Dubh. You click the kettle on and drum your fingers on the countertop as you wait.

At that moment you hear a small hoot and a light thud outside your back door. You leave the kitchen, unlocking the door to open it and spot a small folded package on the front step. It's the newspaper, the Daily Prophet.

You toss the paper on the kitchen table, humming as you prepare breakfast for yourself. Finally, when you've finished, you take your plate in one hand and your ready cup of tea in the other, sitting down at the kitchen table. You pull open the twine wrapped around the paper, unfolding it out.

You nearly spit out your tea when you read the headline of the front page and spot a familiar face.

Sirius.

Sirius Black.

Sirius Black has escaped.

Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

What the fuck?

You swallow hard, looking at the article again. Your heart is thumping. Your hands are trembling. You feel like you're about to be sick.

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

'We are doing all we can to recapture Black,' said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, 'and we beg the magical community to remain calm.'

You scoff. Fat fucking chance!

Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

'Well, really, I had to, don't you know,' said an irritable Fudge. 'Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?'

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand which Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

You feel like you're dreaming. How the hell did he break out?

This article makes you feel so sick. The things they're saying — the things they've always said about him — they're not true. They can't possibly be true.

Sirius would never do that.

Your Sirius would never do that.

Your Sirius who kissed you on the Astronomy Tower.

Your Sirius who proposed to you in your first tiny London flat, lit only by candlelight.

Your Sirius who waited patiently for you at the altar.

Your Sirius who spoke in detail of his undying love for you during his vows.

Your Sirius who gave you the most perfect first dance you could ever ask for.

Your Sirius who spent your wedding night reminding you how much he loved you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, making sure there wasn't a single patch of skin on your body that went unkissed.

Your Sirius who bought you flowers every week, so the ones on your dining table were always fresh.

Your Sirius.

For twelve years you've maintained the belief that Sirius is innocent. There has got to be another explanation because the Sirius you know would never sell out his friends like that. He would never support Voldemort like that. He would never murder thirteen people like that! It's bullshit.

The Sirius you know would sooner die than rat James and Lily out like that.

Sirius isn't mad, like the way they say in that article.

Or maybe he is.

You wouldn't be surprised if 12 whole years in fucking Azkaban turned him loony.

Suddenly, there's a loud knock at your front door and you startle, dropping the paper.

What if that's him?

You slowly, apprehensively get up out of your chair, carefully walking to the door. You take a deep breath, and place your hand on the handle.

You turn it agonisingly slow and open the door a crack, peering out.

It's not him.

You don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Well, you're definitely not happy anyway, as you're met with Cornelius Fudge and three other Ministry officials.

You gulp.

"Good morning, ma'am," Fudge says. "Can we come in?"

You sigh, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. Of course."

You open the door wide to let them in, wrapping your arms around your torso nervously. They walk into your kitchen, looking around and you gesture to the kitchen table with a nervous smile. "You can sit down there..."

The four of them sit. You notice how Fudge's eyes immediately land on the paper, and he looks quickly back up at you as you lean against the counter, anxiously fiddling with your fingers. Dubh's head lifts from her food bowl, eyeing the newcomers suspiciously.

"Tea, coffee?" You ask, forcing a smile.

The officials glance at each other, as if deciding whether or not it's safe to accept a drink from you.

"Um...no thanks," one squeaks, looking up at you fearfully.

You sigh.

"Ah, so you've evidently heard the news..." Fudge starts, tapping the paper with one of his large, pudgy fingers.

You nod wordlessly.

"Is it a...surprise?" he asks.

You blink at him. "Yes, Minister, of course it's a surprise. I hardly expected him to break out of bloody Azkaban."

"Yes, yes, it is a shock to all of us," Fudge replies, eyes glancing over at the wedding photo on your countertop. "Have you...heard from him? At all?"

"No."

"It's just that you are his wife, you would be the first person he'd run to."

You raise your eyebrows, folding your arms. "Oh? I would've thought you'd expect him to run to Voldemort?"

They all wince at the name.

Fudge sighs, trying to keep his composure. "Look, regardless of your personal feelings on the matter, Black is a criminal and — "

"You have no proof — "

"He is a convict!" Fudge snaps. "Regardless of whether you believe it to be wrongful or not, he is a convict! If you see him, you must contact the Ministry. The magical community is in shambles with him on the loose. People are afraid."

You scoff. "The magical community has been in shambles for centuries."

Fudge ignores your statement, standing up from his chair unsteadily. "We will have to monitor your home, in case he decides to...visit."

"Shocker."

"We — uh, we'll be going now," Fudge says semi-certainly, motioning for the others to follow. They all stand, narrowly avoiding you as they exit the kitchen. You see one woman flinch when you move. You feel a hand on your shoulder, looking up to see Fudge's red, fudgy face looking at you pitifully. "I am truly sorry, dear. Remember what I said."

You watch as the party leaves and you shut the door behind them. You groan, running your hand through your hair as you slide down the door and sink to the ground.

Dubh appears around the corner, plodding over to you. You smile weakly at her, petting her softly. You feel your eyes starting to water and you sniffle, lip trembling.

You shake your head in disbelief.

"What am I gonna do?"

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You wave your wand, levitating your heavy trunk up onto the overhead carriage of your train compartment. Most teachers don't take the Hogwarts Express — they just apparate to Hogsmeade instead — but you find that apparition tends to distress Dubh immensely and don't do it. You don't mind it really, the train ride gives you that little bit of extra time to look over lesson material.

Lucky for you, you have the compartment to yourself and freely let Dubh out of her carrier. She stretches with a long meowl, moving to settle on your lap, and you spend the ride reading a book and looking over lesson material, though your mind keeps drifting from what you're doing, choosing instead to fixate on Sirius.

You have a sickening seed of guilt and worry circling your gut ever since you heard of his escape, an overwhelming sense of dread looming over everything you do.

Heavy rain pelts the window harshly, wind battering the sides of the train, rattling it loudly.

You glance out the window pensively, wondering what he must be doing right now. Maybe he's been recaptured and you just haven't found out yet. You hope he's not out in this weather.

If sixteen-year-old Sirius had been caught out in torrential rain, he'd be busy complaining to you about how it completely ruined his hair and you'd just have to listen on and on because truthfully, you liked his hair after the rain.

The train starts to slow and you sigh, starting to pack up your things. Then, your eye catches the window and you squint out into the dark surroundings. You're not in Hogsmeade — you're not even close to it. You've been on this train enough times to know that you have a solid 20 minutes or so left in the journey.

Maybe there's something blocking the track and you'll all just have to continue on foot?

Hardly.

You stand up, gently plucking Dubh from your lap and placing her onto the seat beside you. You slide open the compartment door and stick your head out, looking up and down the hallway. You know well that Professor Flitwick is inside along with some of the Prefects so you step out, closing the door behind you and moving to their compartment.

You open the door and look in at Flitwick and three students, shiny silver badges on their chests. "Hey, Filius. What's going on?"

Flitwick shrugs, straining his neck to see up out the window. "I don't know."

You bite your lip, turning around uncertainly. "I'll ask the driver."

Suddenly, the train stops with a jolt and you stumble into the wall beside you, knocking your head against one of the flickering lanterns. You groan, bringing a hand to rub at the sharp stinging in your temple.

You try to make your way up the carriage but before you can the lights extinguish with a small puff and you're plunged into darkness. Rooting around in your pocket, you fish out your wand and mutter, "Lumos." A small bead of white light appears at the tip, illuminating a short distance in front of you.

To your horror, you look up and are met with a dark cloaked figure that towers to the ceiling. Its face is completely hidden beneath its hood. You feel your breath hitch in your throat as the room grows cold, freezing cold, making the hairs on your arms stand up.

A Dementor.

"He's not here," you choke, but it doesn't seem to matter as the dementor draws a long, slow, rattling breath. "He — he's not — "

You feel an immediate sadness overwhelm you. You feel every stitch of joy being sucked from you, your body desperately trying to cling on to whatever it can. You hear Sirius' voice, screaming raw and pleading, and it feels like the pain in your head is magnified a billion times.

Before your last stretch of consciousness can escape from you, you grip your wand tighter and, summoning all your will and happiest memories, you yell, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A bright, blue light bursts forth from your wand, taking on the form of large, scruffy dog and chasing the Dementor as it glides away from you. You stumble back, chest heaving, placing a hand on the wall for support, before remembering about the rest of the students and you turn, sprinting back down the corridor to the other carriages.

You throw open the door, moving quickly as you throw glances in each compartment window, checking that everyone was alright. Was there only one?

As you continue down the corridor, you look in one compartment and see the back of a tall figure blocking your view. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see it's not a Dementor, and slowly slide open the door to poke your head in, trying to carefully look past the figure in front of you.

"Hey guys, everyone okay? I think — Remus?" You stare in shock at the tired face of Remus Lupin, currently holding a gigantic slab of chocolate in his hands, loudly snapping it into pieces. "What are you doing here?"

Beside him is Harry, Ron, and Hermione, looking between the two of you in surprise. Harry is as pale as a ghost, his hair messy and untidy.

"Guess I took your advice," Remus shrugs, handing everyone pieces of chocolate. He hands one to you and you accept it gratefully, biting off a piece with a loud crack. "Taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

You grin. "Remus, that's brilliant!" You throw your arms around him and he chuckles, tapping your back softly.

You pull back, noticing Harry's shell-shocked face and turn to him in concern. "Harry, are you alright? You don't look too good."

"Dementor," Remus explains and you nod in understanding.

"There was one in my carriage too!" You say. "Bastards."

"Language."

"What? It's true!" You say in defense, looking back at Remus' unapproving face. You glance at the three thirteen-year-olds also present in the compartment with you. "Er — sorry, guys."

"I'm going to go talk to the driver," Remus announces, tossing a small bite of chocolate into his mouth.

You nod. "Alright, I'll go check on everyone else." Remus moves past you, but before he can go in the opposite direction to you up the train, you grab onto his arm. "Next time, tell me if you're coming. Could've saved me a very boring train ride."

Remus chuckles. "I was asleep the whole time, not sure if I'd be great company."

You just give him a knowing smile, heading down to the carriage to check on the other students.

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter five here!

p.s. it's easy to miss grammar/spelling mistakes when im editing it myself, so if you find any please let me know!! 💌

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #the marauders #marauders #angst #angst with a happy ending

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laurancezvahlslefteyebrow · 4 months

Text

SHADOW KNIGHT HEADCANONS

aka things from my rewrite

idea from @xerith-42 <- <- <-

————————————————————

Appearance:

They have pointed ears. They’re not as large as an elf’s or half elf’s ears, really just the size of a human’s ear… But pointed.

They’re skin sparkles. (Edward who?) Idk why I added this I just like the idea of Laury lookin like he’s rocking body glitter 24/7 ig. It’s most noticeable in direct sunlight.

They’re eyes are reflective, like a cats, and often glow in the dark. They’re eyes also appear more… empty… than a regular person’s. Almost uncanny.

When in their full Shadow Knight form, their irises become red, and the whites of their eyes turn black. The skin around their eyes also becomes red and cracked, almost irritated looking.

They have fangs. Much like this v

They each have a scar pertaining to the way in which they died. (Assuming it wasn’t something like poison). It is usually a dark grey or black color, but not always.

When they are premature, their fingers and toes are blacken. This is called the corruption. Each SK has at least some, but the amount tells you how long they resisted gaining their immortality. The longer they go without gaining their immortality, the further up the corruption creeps, only stopping at the shoulders and hips.

They have Rune Scars and Tattoos. The tattoo is located on their palms and is the source of their SK abilities. It’s embedded with the curse of binding so it cannot be removed or carved out. The scars are on their face, three claw marks on each cheek. These are referred to as The Tears. These scars enhance their SK abilities.

While in their full SK form, their scar runes turn black and emanate pure darkness. Their fingernails also grow into claws that are extremely sharp and nearly unbreakable.

All SKs appear pale, no matter their skin tone. They have no red/pink/orange undertones bc their blood technically no longer flows.

They often appear very ridged or mannequin like. Standing either too perfectly or too hunched over. Again, uncanny.

Because of all these physical traits, Shadow Knights are very easy to spot, assuming you know what to look for. Many trying to hide or blend in, will hide their heads, faces, and hands.

THE… OTHER STUFF:

Their body temperature fluctuates quite a bit. Generally, theyre cold to the touch, because yk their dead. But when they feel strong emotions like anger or happiness their temp rises, possibly to the point where they feel feverish. The only emotions that actively make them colder are sadness and fear.

Their temp also rises when the Calling comes a knocking. Rising hotter and hotter the longer they try to ignore or fight it.

^ Inspired by a convo with @xerith-42

It’s impossible to sleep in the Nether, though the reason is unknown. Because of this, Shadow Knights don’t require sleep. They still can sleep, but it’s not a necessity. Premature Shadow Knights however, still become tired and can still feel the physical repercussions of having no sleep.

Similarly, SKs also no longer need to eat or drink. However again, prematures do. Since not much grows in the nether, they’re forced to eat Nether Wart. It’s essentially a very tough, charcoal tasting mushroom. It’s their only source of food OR water as water cannot be found anywhere else in the Nether.

While they’re in the Nether, their blood becomes cold to accommodate for the extreme heat. Because of this they need to be careful about regulating their emotions while in the nether so their blood doesn’t overheat.

Nether time is faster than Overworld time. A year in the Nether is only a few months in the Overworld, if that.

Premature SKs can be killed the same ways a human can be, due to their lack of immortality. A full SK however, is a bit more tricky. Their physical form can be killed, though it is more difficult due to a combination of things, but they respawn. If their body dies, is will *poof* disappear and reappear back in the Nether on an alter. The amount of time it takes to respawn depends on the severity of their injury. A full SK can only be permanently killed with an enchanted Netherite weapon (hehe minecraft reference). These are extremely rare and hard to come by. …Zenix has one…

When a PMSK (Premature Shadow Knight) is trained, they fight against real, full SKs. They could very well be killed during their training, call it natural selection. The PM is expected to kill the Full SKs they’re fighting against.

Soul sand houses the souls of innocent lives taken by Shadow Knights. Their souls not only add fuel to their power, but also gives strength to the Shadow Lord/Shad.

In Shad’s eyes, someone with magicks or brains is often more valuable than someone who is physically strong. Though physical strength is needed in order to be a SK, if they are not particularly clever and they have no magicks, they aren’t very useful. Often used as simple pawns or sacrifices.

The first ever Shadow Knight was some random guy named Randal. He didn’t fit any of the criteria, in fact he was just some farmer who ate a bad potato and suffered the consequences. Shad only resurrected him to experiment a bit.

A Shadow Knight’s armor isn’t actually armor. It’s more like a shell that pops out when their body recognizes it’s needed. Or at least when it thinks it does. These shells are generally identical, but they do each have some variations depending on the person and their alignment. Their weapons are an extension of this shell as well, and can be any hand held weapon. Weather is a sword, hammer, mace, or even daggers. Swords are just most people’s go-to. Along with this, they cannot drop their weapons as they are basically a part of them. The only way to rid of it is by… sucking?? it back into the shell. Think of venom. But less… slimy.

They’re impervious to fire/lava. At any stage, full or pm.

Oooookay that’s all I got

Thanks for reading this far love ya mwah mwah

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misc-obeyme · 6 months

Note

FOR FLUFTOBER,,, domestic satan content, where you finally get to adopt some cats with him. the preparation hed do would be more than most people do for their literal babies

Hello there, anon!

SO. I spent some time thinking about the scenario here, but in the end I decided not to describe the setting. That way you can kind of insert Satan, MC, and the cats into whatever setting you like. At first I thought it could be the House of Lamentation in a situation where Lucifer finally lifted the cat ban. But then I also thought it could be that Satan and MC had their own place somewhere. And then I thought it could be interesting if Satan decided to move into Cocytus Hall only so that he could circumvent Lucifer's cat ban lol. I actually really like that last idea, but knowing me it'd end up with too much Solomon in it.

As for the cats, I dunno I just made some stuff up. Which to be fair is what I do for most of the stuff I write lol. I find that shelters tend to give cats ridiculous names that are either just regular human names or something completely out of left field. I also realize that the cats might've been scared and decided to hide upon being in a new environment. However, I based this quite a bit on the day I brought my own cat home. She wasn't scared at all and in the end she fell asleep on my lap.

Anyway, it's a bit cheesy, but I liked the prompt 'cause I'm always happy to write about cats.

Thank you for submitting a prompt!

FLUFFTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Satan

Warnings: none!

"Satan. Did you move the cat tree again?"

You were looking at the cat tree - a piece of carpet covered furniture that was taller than you. It had certainly been in a different spot before, but now it stood in front of the window.

Satan came up to stand behind you. "Of course," he said. "But this is the last time. Don't you think they'll want to be able to look out of the window?"

You cocked your head a little bit, trying to imagine the cats perched upon the tree. He was right. They probably would appreciate being able to look out the window from a tall vantage point.

"All right," you said. "I agree. But you have to stop moving it around."

"I won't have time to move it again," Satan said, glancing at the clock. "We have to go."

You turned to look at him. He had a calm expression, looking relaxed, but you could see the trembling behind his green eyes. He was excited and nervous, his feelings all in a jumble. He tried to smooth them out, keep them below the surface, but you had learned to read him long ago.

You took his hand and smiled. "Everything is going to go perfectly. You'll see."

He really didn't have anything to worry about. Satan was nothing if not thorough. He had stocked up on high quality cat food and the finest of fancy cat treats. There was a box that was overflowing with cat toys of all shapes and sizes. Several cat scratchers were placed strategically around the room. The floofiest cat beds you'd ever seen had been procured. He even purchased a robotic litter box.

All that was left now was to get the cats themselves.

The two of you walked to the adoption center, picked up the cats, and brought them back. Satan was practically vibrating with nervous energy as you put the carriers on the floor, opening the doors, and allowing the cats into the room.

The first one to come out of his carrier was a handsome long haired tuxedo cat. He sat down in the middle of the room, looking at you and then Satan and then at the cat tree.

"You know, I was surprised when you pointed this guy out to me," you said. You were sitting on the ground with a pile of cat toys nearby, waiting to see what the black cat would do. "He reminds me so much of Lucifer."

"Me, too," Satan said.

This surprised you enough to look up at him, but Satan's eyes were on the cat.

Before you could inquire further, the second cat poked her head out of her carrier. This was a calico cat with a sweet face. She came over to sit beside the black cat. They were already friends from their time in the shelter.

"And this one reminds me of you," Satan said.

Another surprise, but he still wasn't looking at you. Satan hadn't told you any of this before, simply bringing each of the cats to you for your approval. You had loved them both instantly. The black cat was a little aloof, but sweet once he got to know you. The calico loved everyone and was always rolling over for tummy rubs.

You laughed. "Really? She reminds you of me?"

Satan met your eyes then, as if he was startled by the fact that he had said anything about it at all. He blushed and looked away again. "Her agreeable personality and ability to befriend anyone is similar to you, that's all."

You tried to hold in another laugh because you didn't want to embarrass him. "They named her Kitchen."

Satan sighed. "We can change her name."

"Beel would like it," you said.

"He would. Are you suggesting we keep it?" Satan asked.

You shrugged. "It is kind of funny. But I think we should keep Maurice."

"Maurice is a good cat name," Satan agreed. He bent down and picked up one of the cat toys, a long pole with a string and a stuffed mouse on the end.

The black cat, Maurice, instantly jumped at it, catching it easily in his claws. He meowed and swished his tail as Satan pulled it away only to dangle it near him again.

The calico sauntered over to you and pressed her head into your hand. You rubbed between her ears and she began to purr.

"She's so sweet," you said.

Satan looked over at you. "Sugar."

You frowned. "Huh?"

"Her name," Satan said.

You grinned. "It's perfect. And I think Beel will still like it."

Satan chuckled. "I'm glad you approve."

The cats eventually found their way to the cat tree. Satan sat down to watch them inspect it and you sat beside him. For some time, the two of you sat in silence, watching the cats as they climbed the tree, finding all of its toys and spaces.

Eventually, both Maurice and Sugar came over to the couch, apparently having decided that curling up together on Satan's lap was preferable to remaining in the cat tree. You scooted closer, leaning in against Satan as he put an arm around you. How both cats managed to fit on his lap, you weren't sure, but they did.

You kissed Satan's cheek. "Are you happy?"

Satan looked over at you and the way his eyes shone with joy answered your question. "More than I've ever been. I have these two. And I have you."

Satan kissed you, gently and softly, the cats purring in his lap. It was a moment that you would hold in your heart for the rest of your life. It was the moment you thought of when you heard the word home.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me fluff #obey me flufftober #obey me satan #om satan #satan obey me #obey me satan x reader #om satan x reader #satan obey me x reader #misc flufftober 2023 #misc writes

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scorpioracha · 4 months

Text

Skz as Bubble Tea

How did I come up with this monstrosity you may ask? Oh no reason, I just had the most TOE CURLING JAW UNHINGING ORGASM INDUCING BOBA OF MY LIFE☺️☺️ anyways I hope you enjoy! if you do pls like/reblog so people can actually see this lol

Bang Chan 방찬

this man is a large dirty matcha milk tea with extra tapioca + an espresso shot and 50% sugar I do not make the rules.

Minho 민호

surprise surprise also matcha but he’s a regular matcha milk tea with red beans and milk foam on the top. Also has one of those cute little cat art things in the foam too. 100% sugar obvi.

Changbin 창빈

idk why but Changbin is feeling fruity—👀—so he’s like a small mango smoothie with mango popping boba or lychee or regular boba,honestly depending on how zesty he’s feeling. 50% and he wants a colorful straw.

Hyunjin 현진

he is so specific in my head. Taro milk tea,boba and coconut jelly, with 75% sugar. My boy only supports small businesses too. He gets his in a reusable cup too.

Jisung 지성

Jisungie is a brown sugar milk tea 100% sugar with tapioca,coffee jelly and Oreo crumbs🥹😭

Felix 용복

oh this ray of sunshine is a strawberry milk tea with strawberry jelly and strawberry popping boba. 100% sugar cause he’s so sweet☺️

Seungmin 승민

black milk tea, 50% sugar, tapioca pearls and a size small. Might get grass jelly if he’s feeling spicy

jeongin 정인

I feel like jeongin is a honeydew milk tea with white tapioca pearls and honey. Size large and either 75% or 100% sugar.

#skz #skz fluff #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids #bang chan #Bangchan #lee minho #skz lee felix #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #seo changbin #kim seungmin #yang jeongin

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coeluvr · 11 months

Text

prompt by @jonyxtion 🫶

Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere...

A young girl’s cries rang out through the dimly lit camp.

“Oh for my sanity’s sake, the frog is fine so please stop crying before all the coyotes gather to eat us.”

But the girl’s tears persisted unabated, her gaze piercing through the man with an accusatory glare. In her eyes, the man had become an emblem of guilt, the embodiment of her pain and torment, “You hurt her.”

The man sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. Handling such situations, especially when it involved teary-eyed children, was far from his comfort zone.

“Look, Fadiya, I didn’t hurt your precious amphibian friend,” he said, trying to sound reassuring but failing miserably. “I merely... conducted a few experiments on it.”

Fadiya’s tear-streaked face contorted in confusion. “Experiments?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted sheepishly. “But it was all in the name of the arcana! And perhaps a touch of curiosity. But observe!” He gestured towards the frog, which was now the size of a cat and changing colors every minute. “Isn’t it amazing?”

But his attempt to evoke wonder only deepened Fadiya's despair.

The young girl’s sobs intensified, her voice choked with anguish, “Why is she doing that? You have ruined her!”

Just then, a loud noise came from a nearby hammock. The abrupt noise had jolted Naima out of her slumber, she let out a groan of irritation, her desire for the comfort of a plush bed evident in her grumbles.

“What’s going on? Why are we crying at this ungodly hour?” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes and squinting at the unusual sight before her. “What is that?”

“He hurt her.”

“Her?”

“Oh, Fadiya, do you know how many frogs she has–”

“I cannot believe you hurt her, that is unacceptable.” Naima interrupted with a glare, she refused to let Fadiya hear about any of her less-than-virtuous acts. Naima tried not to laugh at the sight of the frog but she couldn’t help but smile a little at the strange sight.

Fadiya hiccuped, her tears subsiding momentarily as curiosity mingled with her sorrow, "Auntie, why did he have to experiment on my frog? Can’t we change her back?"

“First of all it’s my frog. Secondly, she is now far better than a regular frog.”

Naima shot him a glare once again then turned her eyes towards Fadiya. She softened her gaze, realizing the depth of Fadiya’s attachment to the now-transformed creature.

Naima’s wavy black hair cascaded around her shoulders like a midnight waterfall as she crouched down to Fadiya’s level. Her pale skin, softly glowing in the light of the lanterns, accentuated the depth of her amber eyes.

“Well, sweetheart, sometimes things don’t go as planned, especially when magic is involved. But let us look at the bright side. She doesn’t appear to be hurt, and she possesses a magical allure unlike any other frog you’ve encountered.”

Fadiya sniffled, wiping her tear-streaked cheeks with the back of her hand. She glanced at the vibrant, ever-changing frog and let out a small giggle amidst her sorrow.

“I suppose it is sort of amazing,” she admitted, her voice filled with a mix of wonder and sadness.

The frog hopped closer to Fadiya, its bulbous eyes fixated on her. It seemed to sense her shift in mood and croaked cheerfully, as if trying to comfort her.

The man scratched his head and mumbled to himself, “Maybe I should have experimented on a different animal…”

Naima gave him a sideways glance, her eyes twinkling mischievously, “Well, that’s what you get for meddling with life without considering the consequences. Next time, maybe think twice before turning a frog into… that.”

“I wasn’t trying to turn it into that.”

“What were you trying to do?” Naima’s curiosity got the better of her, and she motioned for the man to explain while they moved away from Fadiya and the frog, leaving them in their own quiet world.

Fadiya reached out a trembling hand and gently stroked the frog’s smooth, damp skin. Its delicate webbed toes tickled her fingers, causing her to giggle once more. The frog responded with a contented croak, basking in the affection it received.

Her tears had dried up, replaced by a newfound curiosity and a glimmer of hope. She looked into the frog’s round eyes, filled with wonder and innocence, and whispered, “I’m naming you Asha.”

“Seems like Asha is quite fond of you,” Naima remarked as she walked back to Fadiya, her voice filled with warmth and affection. “Just like how you’re fond of her.”

Naima crouched down beside Fadiya, her eyes filled with admiration. “You have a gift, Fadiya,” she said, her voice filled with pride. “It’s a rare and beautiful thing.”

Fadiya nodded, her gaze returning to Asha, who had nestled closer to her side. “I love her,” Fadiya admitted, a radiant smile spreading across her face. “She’s my favorite frog.”

She then turned towards her aunt, “But don’t worry, you’re still my favorite person.”

Naima chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with affection, “Oh, Fadiya, you always know how to make me feel special. You’ve been my favorite since the day you were born.” She reached out and ruffled Fadiya's hair playfully, her touch filled with warmth.

“You weren’t there when I was born,” Fadiya narrowed her eyes, “How come I don’t remember seeing you?”

“You may not remember, but I held you in my arms shortly after you took your first breath. Your mother was exhausted, and I was there to welcome you into this world.”

Fadiya’s brows furrowed as she tried to recall the distant memory. “Really?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Naima nodded, a soft smile on her face. “Yes, really. I remember the way you looked, all tiny and fragile. You were my little gift from the world, Fadiya.”

Asha, as if sensing the conversation had shifted away from her, croaked loudly, as if to say, “What about me?”

The sudden interruption made Fadiya and Naima burst into laughter, Naima gently patted Asha’s head, “You’re my favorite too, Asha.”

#crown of ashes and flames #crownofashesandflames if #interactive story #interactive fiction #coaaf if: short stories #coaaf if: fadiya

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py-dreamer · 1 year

Text

SBI & RodentHybrid!Reader

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

GN!Reader, (this is my first time doing something like this-)

Rats, mice and most rodents alike are under-appreciated in my opinion and I had some SBI brainrot I could not stop.

How did they find you?

Philza had just adopted his 3 chaos sons and was not expecting to have anymore children.

Tommy was 3, Wilbur and Techno were both 10

however, one day he heard tiny squeaks during a trek in the forest.

he thought it was just a regular mouse but it was too loud to be one so he followed the source and peered in the bushes and in it was lil' ol' you

you couldn't have been more than a year old by the looks of it and you were absolutely tiny! you could fit in the palm of his hand

you were also freezing cold and there were no adults around so... guess Phil's gonna adopt another child then!

Your rat features:

I put down rodent hybrid cause' I couldn't make up my mind if you were going to be a mouse or a rat (there's a difference!) so neither can your family!

You have the cartoonishly big mouse ears (think Mickey Mouse) and also a long thin and scaly tail

You also have delicate whiskers and a itty bitty nose that has a surprisingly good sense of smell

There are small patches around your body hear and there

TOE BEANS! TOE BEANS! TOE BEANS!

Also, smol. Extremely small. You are by far the shortest in the family. Mice are really small so I think you'd grow to 1ft 6 at most

Rats have strong teeth so you also have a set of really strong buck teeth

Since Techno once talked with a piglin, and Phil's chat are literally crows, you can talk to other rodents

"I'm not like other people! I'm 1ft 6, I have the best sense of smell, I can talk to animals and I have a tail cause I'm a foocking rat baby"

Life with the SBI

it was rather difficult to adjust to the new family member because of the drastic height differences but nothing they couldn't handle

All the seats, tables ect have a little ladder carved in or have a step-ladder attached so you could climb up

Stairs and doors. They were going to be a problem. So Dadza made like a little elevator out of string, small planks of wood and pulleys so you can get up and down the floors. Each door in the house also had a small doggy door on it so you could easily enter...though one time a stray cat had gotten in and chased you around the house so the main door and the door to the backyard had to have little locks installed on the little doors too.

Once you got a bit older, Dadza realized it would've been a very tiring life for you to have to climb up every seat and every table and every shelf you want to use so he made a little hole in the wall under a table and built tiny furniture perfect size for you and helped you decorate your room

Any soft fabric in the house was a perfect napping spot for you. your family would often find you nesting in hoodies, cushions, jackets, cloaks, blankets ect. (Although once Wilbur almost sat on you when you got a little too comfortable and fell asleep on the couch)

I'd like to think whenever you were mad at one of your brothers, you'd steal their stuff (that you can carry ie Tommy's disc, Wilbur's beanie, Techno's gold) and hide it in your room or a small crevice that only you can fit in and they'd be to big to fit in and reach their stuff.

You would also take advantage of your size and hide in places impossible for your family to hide in but not for you! You were always the hide and seek champion and could evesdrop on your brothers from inside the walls or inside a chest.

Midnight snacks. Just all the snacks. Rats can fit through any space they can get their heads into and some can chew through metal so there was nothing stopping your hungry tummy. Phil was even considering enchanting the pantry to prevent you from theiving all the snacks (you'd share with your brothers though, Phil was just miffed you ate all the snacks before dinner and could get ill)

When you guys were going out and you couldn't keep up, you'd just ride in one of their bags. You were extremely light and it was hard to keep up with their long legs so this was a perfect solution (you 100% fell asleep in a bag once and the family almost flipped the house upside down looking for you)

Your relationship with Dadza

We already mentioned him earlier but he loves you very much

Phil was a lot more nervous to take care of you cause he'd never raised a child this small before

He was very hesitant to let your brothers hold you when you were a baby because you were just so small and fragile-

When you were little and went out with him, you always had to be on him or holding his hand. Sitting on his hat, his shoulder, riding in his bag, him carrying you, he didn't mind but you couldn't be let out of sight especially in large crowds or tall grass.

He always had at least one of his crows keep an eye on you when you went outside to play just in case anything goes wrong

He still worries about you a lot but knows that at least you can defend yourself now.

Your relationship with Wilbur

he was your big brother and you both love each other a lot

it took some time getting used to you but the moment he saw such a tiny baby, he just went 'SMOL CHILD I WILL PROTECT YOU'

in the early days, when Philza couldn't take care of you, he'd hand you to Wilbur who'd spend time with you and Tommy. Be it going to town, making a new song, going to meet Sally, he was mostly glad to bring his little siblings along

While he cared for you a lot, he still played tricks on you sometimes like when he told you that birds eat mice and you just became terrified of Phil and his crows for a good week XD

He was much more relaxed when it came to your safety (not that he'd let you go into the woods alone, like just be less protective than dadza) though he would just be wary when you guys are with a lot of people so he'd prefer it if you were riding on his beanie. He'd get weird stares but as long as you're safe, he didn't care

when composing songs and you're with him, he'd sing the lyrics and you'd sometimes squeak them back in your high-pitched voice and he would either laugh or die from cuteness...or both

rats also generally have better hearing than humans so when he was composing a song, he'd ask for your opinion to see if it was good or not

Your relationship with Techno

when you were first welcomed into the family, he didn't know what to do-

don't get me wrong he got the same 'PROTECT DA CHILD' feeling as Wilbur and even the voices told him to 'PROTEC SMOL THING' when he got them later on

it's just that you were so small that he was afraid he'd hurt you he was never as gentle as his twin or his dad and Wilbur seemed to like you so he figured he'd him take care of you like Tommy

though one day, you were out in the garden. Techno was training, Phil was in the house, Wilbur and Tommy were with friends. A stray zombie found its way to your home and it started to attack you.

you were too small to get away quick enough and tripped but just as the zombie was about to hurt you any more, Techno shot an arrow through that f*cker's head he then realized you were too weak to defend yourself so decided to train you to be stronger

Wilbur was unsure about letting you wield a sword but Techno insisted it was for the best. Eventually, Tommy bugged him enough to train him too.

it took a while but after enough time and hard work, you were able to wield a few light weight weapons and were able to hold your own at pvp by quickly darting and dodging around your opponent.

when you weren't training, Techno read you and Tommy greek mythology. Tommy would sit in his lap and you would rest on his head (if he felt like it, he'd let you two braid his hair)

like the rest of the SBI, he gave you a piece of golden jewelry, for you it was a small earing

Your relationship with Tommy

I'll be honest: Tommy didn't really like you at first

He was glad to not be the youngest but he didn't realize that he'd get less attention due to you being a baby

they still loved him of course, but Tommy couldn't help but feel jealous when Dadza helped you make your own room or when Wilbur took you on their trips to town or when you'd always be carried by Wil or dad or when Techno started training you before him ect

he'd always try to ignore you or glare angrily and naturally, you reciprocated the behaviour and thus you two always had a sort of rivalry

he'd call you names, yank your ears, tail or whiskers and in turn, you'd call him names, steal his stuff and sometimes bit him if he pulled too hard

But then, one day:

You were 10 and sitting by yourself on the swings in the park. Barely anyone else was there and you were doing your own thing. It was one of the rare opportunities when you could be alone. I mean, you did love your family and all but it was nice to have some alone time too. You were minding your own business when suddenly:

"Hey are you a doll?"

A little kid had just picked you up by your waist and you were frankly very startled. You started wiggling, trying to get out of the kid's grasp but it was too tight.

"You're a very weird doll"

The kid held you tighter and you squealed out for help.

"I'm not a doll! Let me go!!"

The child gasps "A talking doll! Mama, mama! Look, a talking doll! Can I keep it please?" they called their mother over

A woman strides over and looked down while you were trying to get out of there. She gasps in horror and shrieks

"A RAT! A RAT! THROW IT AWAY AT ONCE BILLY! IT HAS THE PLAGUE! GET IT AWAY!!"

She then snatched you out of her child's sticky hands and threw you at full force into the mud.

"GET BACK YOU VERMIN! GET AWAY! RETURN TO THE MURKY SWAMP WHERE YOU CAME FROM!" She screeched while you were trying to process what just happened and collect yourself.

All of a sudden, you heard a very angry yet familiar voice from the bushes

"OI! NO ONE GETS TO PUSH MY SIBLINGS INTO THE MUD BUT ME!!"

He then pounced and shoved the prick and her brat into the mud.

"AHHHH YOU INSOLENT BRAT! HOW DARE YOU!"

Without warning, she grabbed Tommy and tried to trip him over him but before she could, you sneaked up behind her and bit down hard on one of her legs. Tommy then grabbed you and booked it out of there with the screeches of the witch behind you.

Once you two made it back home, you started to clean yourself up when Tommy handed a towel to you. He said nothing and looked away but the gesture was all it needed. The both of you were silent but a mutual care about each other started to grow that day.

it took a while but you two soon became thick as thieves

he even introduced you to Tubbo later on!

You and Tubbo relate to each other on the fact that you were both often underestimated and your shorter heights compared to everyone else.

Life in the smp

you decided to follow Wilbur and Tommy when the left home and promised to write to your dad and older brother

by now, you were as tall as you could be and could defend yourself reasonably well

you, Tommy and Tubbo absolutely cause chaos together. I mean the rat, the racoon and the goat? Who makes better thieves than that?

You definetely participated in the disc wars, stealing Tommy's discs back from Dream whenever you could

During the L'Manberg era, you decided to join your brothers' country and became good friends with the rest of the L'Manberg members. You had a little uniform and everything, you helped to plant flowers and decorate around the country since it was a bit hard to place down blocks.

L'Manberg really felt like a second home and a second family for you even with the constant battles, you still had each other and that was enough.

Then you and everyone else lost your first lives during Eret's betrayal and Tommy had to give up his discs (you wanted to steal them back but Tommy told you that it was ok and they'd find another way) but hey, at least you guys were independent now...right?

Then the elections happened. You were sure your brothers would win until the votes were revealed. They were banned from the country and you desperately scurried after them, trying not to get trampled in the angry mob

You helped them set up Pogtopia and that's when Wilbur decided to give you a job.

With all things considered, you were arguably one of the best spies on the server: You were tiny and hard to spot, you can hide in places no one would think to look, you were fast, agile and hard to catch, you have a far more superior sense of hearing and smelling and can therefore sense if anyone's coming much easier, and you can communicate with rodents; one of the most common and unsuspecting animals.

Therefore, Wilbur gave you and Tubbo the job of spying on Schlatt and Manberg. Tubbo would pretend to be on their side and you would eavesdrop from the shadows.

You should've been more wary of Wil's behaviour, he looked like he was loosing it but still wanting to help your brother, you accepted the job and spied on Manberg, giving Pogtopia info when you could.

Techno came to help and you thought that it would be alright from now on...then the red festival happened. Tubbo gave his speech while you watched from behind the curtains. Then he was boxed up and you could only watch in horror as Techno walked to the stage to execute your best friend.

You thought it couldn't get any worse when someone grabbed you from behind and took you to the stage. JSchlatt held you by the neck and learned that you were the spy sneaking info all along. And before you knew it, he squeezed your throat and you died from suffocation on stage.

Wilbur couldn't look you in the eyes after that and you were told that Techno shot a firework at Schlatt cause 'it wasn't part of the deal'

After the final battle, you couldn't be happier. You were celebrating with all your friends and looking for Wilbur before the ground shook and everything exploded.

You lost half your tail and parts of your left ear that day. But that loss couldn't compare to the loss of your brother, dead in your father's arms

You tried your best to return to normal and just when you started to recover, Tommy was exiled. You followed him to Logstedshire and tried to stand up for him against Dream but he was too strong.

Tommy convinced you to leave him and that he'd be ok and you naively believed him.

When Techno took him in, you followed him and couldn't be happier; your family was back together!...well most of them.

Then doomsday happened. Techno didn't tell you his plans and you were in shock as to why he would blow up L'Manberg now.

He then told you about the execution. That while you were with Tommy in exile, he was going to be executed by the butcher army. That news shook you to the core but you couldn't think straight with your second home being blown to smitherines again.

Afterwards, you decided to take a break from society and ran away to live by yourself in a small home you built in the woods for some time to recover.

Tommy would visit sometimes and told you about the hotel he was building with Sam Nook, Tubbo visited when he could, he even brought Ranboo with him once and told you about their son Michael. Philza visited once, he told you that Techno was doing alright but just hasn't found the time to visit. You didn't answer when he knocked on the door.

(Sorry if the end sounds rushed, its because it is. I just didn't know what to do about the rest of the extensive lore but let me know if you'd like more of these x reader stuff, only platonic though. Anyways, until next time my lovely marshiemellows!)

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