#morons were my muse
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@jegulus-microfic | april 12 Amortentia | words: 683
DARLING, GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM JAIL (not jail but a hospital, same thing really). I missed writing and maybe some of you missed me so here’s a cute one. enjoy;3
tw: alleged poisoning, swearing
"Have you seen that green shirt Regulus wore to the party last week? He looked so beautiful in it,” James mused, laying down on the floor next to Remus’ bed. “And his hair, oh Merlin, his hair...”
“What the fuck, Prongs?” Sirius snapped at him, sitting straight on Mooney’s bed. Oh, right, he forgot his best friend was in the room.
James looked at Remus, a bit terrified, hoping the tall boy would come up with something to save his ass. With the smirk Remus gave him, James knew he was doomed.
“Oh boy, are you okay, James?” The taller boy asked with feigned concern. “Pads, I think someone poisoned him.”
At the comment, Sirius’ face turned from pissed to concerned.
“What? With what?” he started, running to James to check on him.
Remus hummed, looking at the two of them with a mean grin.
“Some Slytherin must’ve added amortentia to his tea in revenge for the last prank,” he said, acting as if he were terrified. “We should take him to Slughorn; he probably has an antidotum.” With that, Sirius picked James up and led him out of their dormitory.
Padfoot looked determined to help him as they walked to the dungeons, while Remus kept sending him amused glances. In response, James just farrowed his eyebrows, mouthing you’re dead to his friend.
When they finally reached the potions professor’s room, Sirius started banging on them like a madman. Not even ten seconds into it, the door opened.
“What are you doing here?” Regulus asked, looking at all three of them. James could see his eyes softening as they reached his own, and he smiled gently at Regulus, the younger boy's cheeks turning slightly pink.
“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, reminding James of his presence.
“Well, I’m brewing a potion,” Regulus started. “But you still didn’t answer my question.”
Sirius frowned at his brother, and he pointed at James. “Can you see him? He’s looking at you like you’re the world’s eighth wonder; somebody poisoned him with amortentia!”
Regulus and James locked eyes again, the younger boy smirking this time.
"Oh, really?” he started, still looking at James. “What gave you the idea?”
“Well,” Sirius began, “he started rumbling about how pretty you looked last week, and how he likes your hair, and other shit like that!” That was just Sirius being dramatic, but Regulus seemed more pleased with every word. “Is Slughorn here? We need to fix him right now!”
Regulus shook his head, turning to face his brother. “He went to Madam Pomfrey; he should be back soon," he said with a pause. “But maybe you should go back to the dorm; it's almost curfew. I’ll take care of that moron.”
James looked at Remus with pleading eyes, hoping this time his friend would actually help him. Thankfully, Moony seemed like he had enough of torturing him for one evening.
He grabbed Sirius’ shoulder, turning him so they stood face-to-face. “He’ll be fine, honey,” Remus said gently, leaning closer to Sirius’ ear. As the black-haired boy’s eyes widened, James assumed the two of them would be taking advantage of the free dormitory. Good for them, James thought. Just don’t destroy the room. Again.
“If he starts being insufferable, give him a sleeping drought or bind him; I don’t care. Just... be safe,” Sirius said to his brother, getting a dismissive yeah, yeah in response.
As the two Gryffindors left them, Regulus pushed James into the room, slamming the door behind them.
“So, amortentia, huh?” Regulus asked with a teasing smile, putting his hands on James’ chest. The older boy grabbed him by the waist, pulling him closer.
“Yeah,” he began, rubbing his hands up and down Regulus’ sides. “I think Barty wanted to get back at me for turning custard creams into Canary Creams.”
“Perhaps yes,” Regulus said, nuzzling at James’ jaw. “And you think I’m pretty? Evan must’ve helped him with the potion if you talked so nicely about me,” James chuckled as the younger boy grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down for a kiss.
#jegulus#dead gay wizards#starchaser#james potter#james x regulus#regulus black#jegulus microfic#marauders#the marauders#hogwarts au#amortentia#sirius black#remus lupin#1k words or less#by: allyeardepression
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You know how you did You get caught trying to sneak into Katsuki’s room. Can you do a reverse one? Like, one where the guys get caught sneaking into the readers room? I feel like it be a chaotic mess and super funny lol 😂
Katsuki gets caught sneaking into your room.
Chapter links
Chapter Two
"Man, are you sure we won't get caught?" Eijiro said, following Katsuki reluctantly to the girl's side of the dorms.
"We will if you keep complaining so loud shitty hair!" Katsuki barked back at him.
"Sorry, I'm just nervous, you know?" Eijiro said in a much quieter voice.
"It's fine, trust me," Katsuki reassured his friend. "Besides, they both miserably failed and got caught by Iida last time so- it has to be us to sneak over this time," Katsuki explained as he hit the button for the girl's elevator.
Eijiro laughed at the thought of the girls getting scolded by Iida for trying to sneak into the boy's dorms, "It makes it easier that both of our girls are on the same floor, hu?" Eijiro said, smiling at his friend.
"I guess. It doesn't matter either way. We're not going to get caught like they did!" Finally, the elevator dinged open. However, to Katsuki's and Eijiro's surprise, it was not empty.
"Oh, um- hi," Shoto greeted the two boys, surprised to see them waiting for the girl's elevator.
"The hell are you doing here, Icy Hot?!" Katsuki asked.
"I'm just leaving from studying with Yayarozu," he answered.
"Studyinggg~ right," Eijiro said, laughing.
Shoto looked at Eijiro, confused by his statement.
Katsuki let out an annoyed huff, "Well, get out of the damn elevator then," he demanded.
"Oh- actually I forgot to give her back her book so- I was going to go back up," Shoto said, holding and pointing to a book in his hand.
"Well, guess we are all going up then," Eijiro said, cheerfully stepping into the elevator.
"Ugh- fine," Katsuki groaned and stepped in.
"Where are you two going?" Shoto asked as he waited to hear what button to press for everyone.
"None of your damn business!" Katsuki yelled.
At the same time, Eijiro politely said, "Fourth floor please."
"God damn it shitty hair!" Katsuki yelled.
"It's fine- I'm not going to say anything," Shoto said. "But um- what are you two doing up here this late?"
"Studying!" Eijiro answered too hastily, voice filled with anxiety. However, Shoto didn't question the two boys' motives any further.
"The fuck?" Katsuki remarked as the elevator stopped and dinged on the third floor.
"Oh- someone is getting in," Shoto mused.
The three boys stood uncomfortably in the elevator as the doors opened and revealed Denki on the third floor.
"Ohhhh~ hey you guys! What are you all doing here, hmm?" he said, giving the boys a wink.
"Shut the hell up and get in Dunce Face!" Katsuki yelled.
"Why are you acting so weird?" Shoto asked.
Denki just laughed and entered the elevator, then glanced over at the buttons.
"Hmm ok, so the fourth and fifth floor. I think I can guess what rooms everyone's headed to," He teased.
"Hey man, don't make it weird, ok?" Eijiro pleaded.
"What's weird about studying?" Shoto asked.
"Uh," Denki murmured, but before he could make a comment Katsuki intervened.
"Where the hell were you anyway?" Katsuki asked.
"I think it's only Jiro and Hagakure on the third floor, so- my guess is Jiro?" Eijiro said, turning to his friend.
Before Denki could confirm or deny, the elevator opened up to the fourth floor.
"Finally, I can get away from you morons," Katsuki grumbled, but before he could step out, Izuku came from around the corner and crashed into him.
"THE HELL?!" Katsuki hollered.
"Oh! Kacchan! I'm sorry!" Izuku said, apologizing frantically.
"The fuck are you doing here, nerd?!" Katsuki questioned.
"I was just leaving! I was um- studying with Uraraka!" Izuku explained.
Denki laughed, "A lot of 'studying' going on tonight hu?"
"UH- I guess so. Is that why you're all here?" Izuku asked.
"Yep! Just um- about to get started," Eijiro said, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's kind of late to just start studying, isn't it?" Izuku asked.
"Yeah, don't you think you guys should get some rest for training tomorrow?" Shoto asked.
"Are they for real right now?" Denki asked, holding in his laughter.
"Tch, probably," Katsuki exclaimed.
"Wait so- you two," Denki said, pointing to Izuku and Shoto, "Were actually studying?"
"What else would we be doing?" Shoto asked plainly.
Before Denki could make any more comments, the boys heard a loud bang followed by-
"Almost there, the forbidden lands~"
"Is it just me or- did that sound like Mineta in the vents?" Denki asked, looking between the boys.
"He never stops, hu?" Izuku said exhaustedly.
"Fucking perv!" Katsuki yelled and stalked over to the vent. "Yeah, that's him in there... Hey! Half and Half, heat up this vent!" Katsuki demanded.
"Won't that hurt him?" Shoto asked.
"Tch- nah it'll just teach him a lesson," Katsuki replied.
"Yeah besides, it's super unmanly to try and spy on girls in their private rooms," Eijiro convinced Todoroki further.
"I suppose you're right," Shoto said as he moved closer to the vent and shot some fire down, heating up the vent red hot in the process.
"OW!" Minoru's scream came ringing out of the vent.
Katsuki, Denki, and Kirishima burst out laughing.
"LAUGH ALL YOU WANT I'M CALLING AIZAWA AND BUSTING YOU GUYS FOR BEING AT THE GIRL'S DORM SO LATE!"
The boys exchanged glances with one another.
"BACK IN THE ELEVATOR GO!" Eijiro yelled, and they all hurried back in fear of being caught by Aizawa.
"Oh, this is bad!" Izuku exclaimed shaking in the back of the elevator.
"Come on Dunce Face! Press the fucking first floor already!" Katsuki yelled.
"I'm rushing, I'm rushing!" Denki said frantically, but as he pressed the button, his anxiety overtook him, causing him to pop off his quirk. A loud buzzing sound went off as the doors closed to the elevator and the lights shut off.
"YOU SHORT CIRCUITED THE ELEVATOR DUMB ASS!" Katsuki yelled.
"OH CRAP!" Denki yelled back in response.
"You guys! We are going to get caught!" Eijiro said, panicked.
Shoto sat in the corner of the elevator calmly.
Izuku panicked, mumbling to himself, "What do you think Aizawa will think? Surly, we were just studying so- that's fine, right? But it is 9pm, he might think that we were up to no good like Mineta bu-"
"SHUT UP NERD!" Katsuki barked.
"Hu, this is worse than the girls getting caught by Iida don't you think, Bakugo?" Eijiro laughed, finding comedy in the situation now.
"I'm going to murder every last one of you," Katsuki grumbled as he sat down on the floor, accepting his fate.
The other boys shrugged and gave in, waiting for their inevitable punishment from Aizawa.
Thank you for requesting a part two! I had a lot of fun with this!
Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries
#anime x reader#anime x y/n#katsuki x reader#katsuki x y/n#katsuki x you#bakugo x reader#mha bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x you#bakugo x y/n#denki x jirou#kaminari x jirou#kirishima x mina#mina x eijiro#bnha x y/n#bnha x fem!reader#bnha x self insert#bnha x you#bnha shoto#bnha todoroki#bnha kaminari#bnha denki#bnha kirishima#bnha katsuki#mha fluff#izuku x ochako
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𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲! (𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞) (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark!Steve, possessive Steve, alcohol consumption, mentions of: inebriation. 18+ minors dni!
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve and omega find themselves at yet another frat party.
“You having fun, baby?” Steve whispers in your ear before he resumes pressing kisses down your neck. He’s got an almost finished beer in one hand, but his other hand is free to fondle you. He rubs up and down your bare arm before his fingers settle on your thigh and give it a squeeze.
You’re at another frat party with Steve, and they’ve become slightly more bearable now. But the loud, thumping music and the bazillion bodies crammed into one frat house still make you extremely nervous. As does the copious amounts of alcohol that everyone around you seems to be downing — especially Steve, who’s consumed about seven beers, plus plenty of shots (yes, you were keeping track).
“It’s alright.” You answer his question, hoping no one is watching while Steve practically devours your face and neck with sloppy kisses. He’s clearly a bit drunk. And of course, very horny, since he’d dragged you into this dim corner to make out about ten minutes ago. And you were thankful for the semi-privacy, because before that he’d been pawing at you and sticking his hands up your dress in front of everyone — which wasn’t ideal but Steve never cared what anyone else thought.
“Mm, doesn’t sound like you’re enjoying yourself.” He muses, bringing his beer up to your lips, “you sure you don’t want a taste, baby? To loosen you up a bit?” His pupils are dark and dilated, but there’s a glint in them all the same as he nudges the can against your lips. “C’mon, omega, one tiny sip?”
“No thank you, Steve,” you say politely, shooting him a pleading look. Alcohol of any kind still scares you and brings back bad memories, but you’re happy that at least Steve’s a happy drunk.
He shrugs and downs it himself. And then his eyes narrow and you follow his gaze towards a bunch of girls in the middle of the room. They’re clearly drunk, stumbling around and climbing on top of a table to dance.
“Stupid sluts.” Steve comments darkly, clutching you closer to him as if he thinks you’ll run and join them or something. “Those are the type of girls who’ll never find a mate. No alpha is interested in slutty attention-seekers like that, you understand?” He strokes your hair like you’re his pet, leaning down to give you another possessive kiss, “You’re lucky you’re nothing like them, baby. You’re sweet and innocent, and—”
“Steve! There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night! I was wondering if you could give me some feedback on my performance in the last football game?”
It’s Jake Jensen. He sidles up to the two of you with an eager grin on his face and a drink in his hand, and Steve mutters a string of curses against your lips.
“Go the fuck away, Jensen. What have I told you about approaching me outside of football?” Steve grunts, glaring meanly at the younger alpha. And then he pulls you closer against him with a firm, possessive arm around your waist.
Jensen’s face falls, “I just thought I played kind of well, you know? Thought I proved myself in your eyes, and I’d love if you could just tell me what you thought—”
“You’re the shittiest player on the team, Jensen.” Steve says nonchalantly and you wince. How mean! And it wasn’t even true, because you’d been to a few of Steve’s practices now and Jake seemed like he was a good player, in your opinion.
“Oh.” Jake looks crestfallen as he turns to leave. But someone bumps into him from behind, and in slow-motion, the drink in Jake’s hand spills all over you, seeping through your dress and soaking you down to the skin.
“JENSEN, YOU FUCKING MORON!” Steve explodes, pushing you behind him before he grabs a shell-shocked Jake by the collar, shaking the poor freshman boy till his glasses fall down his nose. “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU EMBARRASS MY GIRLFRIEND?!”
Jake looks white as a ghost, “I-I didn’t mean to—” he turns to you with a pleading look in his eyes, “I’m sorry! I’m really, really sorry!”
“It’s okay!” You squeak but you’re not sure anyone hears you. Steve growls angrily when he sees that Jake is talking directly to you. But what happens next is even worse. In his panicked state, Jake drunkenly fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and starts dabbing at your drenched dress with it.
Predictably, Steve loses it.
“ARE YOU FUCKING TOUCHING MY GIRLFRIEND, JENSEN? Are you really that fucking stupid?” Steve gives Jake an almighty push that has the younger alpha staggering back with a fearful look in his eyes. And you know that a sober Steve would’ve killed the poor guy, but a drunken Steve still has a lot of wrath despite his sluggish movements. “You think my girl’s gonna feel sorry for you? You think you have a chance with her? Fuckin’ pawing at her like she’s a free piece of ass?!”
You wince before grabbing Steve’s arm and telling him to stop. But it’s no use and everyone knows it. You’re just lucky that the alcohol in Steve’s system has slowed him down a bit, because sober Steve would’ve murdered the poor boy in ten seconds flat.
“I didn’t paw at her, I was just trying to help her!” Jake protests.
“Are you calling me a liar, Jensen?” Steve seethes. “You’ve had your creepy eyes on my girl since day one, don’t think I can’t tell! I’m not fucking blind, you dumbass moron! I’ll have you kicked off the football team for even looking at her! Hell, I’ll have you fucking expelled, even. How does that sound, dumbass?” He shakes the poor freshman by his collar, “huh? How does that fucking sound??”
Jake looks like he’s about to cry, or piss himself out of fear. Thankfully, that’s when a few other alphas from the football team intervene. It takes both Thor and Sam to pry Steve off of Jensen, and you see Sam whisper something in Steve’s ear as Thor leads Jake away.
“Can you take him away to cool off somewhere?” Sam’s voice snaps you out of your frozen state and you nod, happy to be of some use.
Steve is drunker than you originally thought, and helping his considerably larger, 6’6 frame down the hallway takes every ounce of your strength — which isn’t a lot to begin with.
“Can you believe Jensen thinks he has a chance with you?” Steve scoffs, slurring his words as he leans against you. You thank your lucky stars that he can still keep himself up somewhat, because if he put even an ounce more of weight against you, you’d probably both end up on the floor.
“Flirting with my omega right in front of my fucking eyes!” Steve fumes, more to himself now as you both navigate down this random hallway. You don’t even know where you’re meant to be taking him—you just want to get him as far away from Jake and more alcohol as possible.
“You’re the prettiest girl on campus, as if he ever stood a chance. I should shove his fucking glasses up his ass for touching you like that. Son of a bitch.”
The compliment makes you pause, your heart lifting. Steve thought you were the prettiest girl on campus? Well, he was drunk and not thinking clearly, because it obviously wasn’t true. Not when his ex looked like a supermodel.
You don’t have time to ponder over his words, however, because the big alpha stumbles just as soon as your fingers curl around a random doorknob, and both of you fall into a bathroom that’s thankfully unoccupied.
“Aha! You dragged me in here so we could fuck, didn’t you?” Steve’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches down to pinch your ass. You yelp softly, but remember not to bat his hand away because you’re not allowed to do that - whether he’s drunk or sober, it doesn’t matter.
“Wh-What, no!” You protest but he’s not listening. He grabs you by the hips and yanks you forward, flipping the lid of the toilet seat down before taking a seat and pulling you into his lap.
“Aww, my little baby omega got horny at the party, so you decided to take me somewhere private, hm?” He sponges kisses down your neck, hands slipping up to fondle your breasts through your dress. It suddenly makes you acutely aware of how wet the material still is from the drink that was dropped on you earlier, and the stench of alcohol seems to be sticking to your skin.
It’s when Steve starts fingering your panties and pulling them aside that you jump off his lap and make a beeline for the sink.
“I’m sorry, Steve. It’s just... my dress is completely drenched.” You try not to let it affect you but you can feel your lower lip wobble and your eyes begin to water. It’s a weird reaction that’s come out of nowhere, but the strong smell of booze only brings back unsavoury memories of things you really don’t want to remember.
“Come back, omega.” Steve orders you, palming his dick through his jeans. “You got me all hard, baby. Well, I’m always hard when I’m with you, but that’s besides the point. Now get back here.”
You try splashing water on your dress and scrubbing away the smell but all that does is make you feel wetter and even more disgusting. Panic begins to set in, what if the smell never came off? What if you were doomed to spend the rest of the party in this booze-soaked dress? The smell was already taking you back… all you had to do was close your eyes and you were back at home, with all the yelling and screaming and hitting and–
“No, no, no!” You shake your head, sinking down to the floor. It’s only when you try (and fail) to breathe that you realise you’re having a panic attack.
“Hey. Come back to me.” Steve’s voice cuts through your racing thoughts, his warm hands cupping your cheeks and his potent scent helping you breathe. “Come back, omega. I’m right here.”
You feel tiny in his arms as he draws you close, but you can’t help but hug him so hard that he stumbles back a few steps.
“Don’t like the smell.” You whimper against his chest. “It won’t come off my dress, Steve. I’m sorry.” You don’t know why you’re apologising but you have feeling so helpless and panicked. All you want is to go home and take a warm shower where you scrub yourself raw to get this smell off of you.
“Well, that’s an easy fix.”
Steve rips your dress in half. One second, it’s on your body. The next second, you’re standing there in your underwear, the material of your dress torn in two sorry-looking rags in either of Steve’s hands. Your alpha smirks triumphantly, as if he’s just solved world peace and world hunger all in one night. “See? Problem solved.”
“B-But how will I get home? I have nothing else to wear!”
Your alpha shrugs off his own sweatshirt and pops it over your head. And it’s like every single worry dissipates from your mind once the soft, heavy material of his sweatshirt hits your skin. It’s thick and of good quality, and so much cosier than the tight dress you’d had on. Plus, it smells absolutely heavenly.
“Thank you.” You hug him again, pressing your face against his bare chest. On any normal occasion, you’d be way too shy to show this much affection to him. You have problems giving him simple eye contact and holding his hand, hugging him is something you can’t even imagine doing off your own accord. But you’re so thankful to have the alcohol-soaked dress away from you, that Steve may as well be your knight in shining armour right now.
A very drunk knight in shining armour.
“See, there isn’t a problem I can’t solve.” Steve boasts, hugging you back and kissing the top of your head. He’s always touchy with you but it’s usually a lot more lewd. This, standing here hugging in a stranger’s bathroom, slightly swaying together, it feels a lot more intimate. Romantic, even.
He half carries you to the bathtub, and you let out a squeak of protest when he casually just settles down inside it. Lying down and pulling you on top of him, your back to his chest. You giggle, “Steve! You have a huge, king-sized bed at home, you don’t need to sleep here!” (You’re hopeful that he might call an uber and take you home because you’ve had about enough of this party).
Steve booms with laughter, “Home? What am I, a pussy? Let’s just rest our eyes, and then we’ll go back downstairs and party some more.”
He doesn’t rest his eyes, however. For the next five minutes, you lie there while he just… stares at you. His blue eyes dilated till they’re practically black, blinking down at you where you lie on his chest. But you’re far too cosy to feel uncomfortable, with the combined heat of Steve’s bare skin and the sweatshirt you’re wearing keeping you cocooned in delicious warmth. You just wish the alcohol-stench memories would go away, because they keep flashing inside your head every time your eyes grow heavy.
“You’ve still got that look on your face.” Steve muses, heavy hand drunkenly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
You look up at him imploringly, “What look?”
“Your nightmare face.” Steve says matter-of-factly, wrapping his arms around you even tighter as your head snaps upwards.
“My wh-what?”
“Your nightmare face. You do it all the time in your sleep. You start frowning and whimpering.” Steve shrugs, tracing the planes of your face with his pointer finger. Stroking your cheekbone before going down to rub over your bottom lip. “A lot of the time, you start doing it when I get up early to go to the gym. But then I just throw your toy at you and it seems to work because you calm down.”
You can’t quite wrap your head around what you’re hearing, “M-My toy?”
Steve rolls his eyes, “The little fluffy guy. Steve Junior or whatever.” He bats his hand dismissively and knocks over a bottle of shampoo and a bodywash, which he seems to find hilarious because he bursts out laughing, “Whoops.”
“I’m sorry!” You blurt out, feeling your palms begin to sweat. “I didn’t realise I had a nightmare face, and it’s not your job to have to take care of me when I… do all that.”
He kisses you, lips soft as a pillow as they work against yours. It amazes you how sweetly Steve kisses you sometimes, and how tender and careful he’s being right now despite the fact that he’s so drunk. Even the taste of alcohol on his tongue doesn’t seem to bother you because it’s him, and you can’t get enough of him.
“I wish I knew what gets you so scared every night.” He whispers against your lips, cupping your face and holding you close. He takes a deep breath, his long lashes fanning his cheekbones as he strokes your cheeks. “I hope it’s not me.”
“It’s not.” You breathe, but it’s swallowed by his kiss, which is more passionate and deeper now as he begins to pull you closer to him. His hands slip up the sweatshirt you have on, cupping your ass and giving it a squeeze. And that’s when you know that the tender moment is over, and Steve is horny once more.
“Just a quickie,” Steve murmurs excitedly, and it’s crazy how quickly his mind has jumped to sex, and you wonder if he’ll remember how sweet he was just a few seconds ago. It made your heart skip a beat, but now he’s trying to peel your clothes off. “C’mon, baby. Gotta be inside you right now. Gotta–”
The bathroom door crashes open at the exact moment, and Steve lets out a string of curse words under his breathe as your eyes register who it is…
“Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee!” Jake Jensen mutters to himself, clearly unaware that he’s not alone in the bathroom. The sound of him unzipping his fly has you gasping and covering your eyes as Steve jumps to his feet and drags you up with him.
“JENSEN, DON’T YOU DARE WHIP YOUR DICK OUT IN FRONT OF MY GIRLFRIEND, OR ELSE I’LL GOUGE YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT!”
THE END FUK BYEEEEEE IDK WHAT THIS WAS I’M NOT TOO PROUD OF IT, I JUST... IDK HOW TO WRITE STEVE IN DRABBLES BC I DON’T WANT TO DEVELOP HIS CHARACTER, SINCE THAT IS FOR THE MAIN FIC!!!! IDEK YALL FUCKKKKK BYE
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|Mistakes|Platonic Yandere Alastor x fem!reader
Requested: /
Warnings: Violence, manipulation, Alastor
Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (You are here)
"Come, sit. We still have some hours to pass."
You nod simply and sit politely on the summoned couch.
The Radio demon sitting at a not so comfrotable distance. Checking out your jellyfish cap from above.
"So tell me, my dear. How does one die and turn into a jellyfish? I'm so curious." Alastor hums in that slightly condescending manner.
"Burned at the stake."
You answer as un-emotionally as you could. It's been a long time since your death after all.... No use being upset about it now.
Alastor freezes for a moment, smile stiffening. "What was that now?"
"Burned, at the stake, like as a witch." You subtly glance at him.
Alastor seems just a tad bit caught of guard by that. Wich was strange... Nobody is meant to surpise the Radio Demon.
"Do explain, we have all the time." Alastor muses, now totally intrested in what tale you're about to tell.
"It's long ago, so I'll spare you the details-"
"I want the details."
..."Alright..." You began, recalling your life on earth... In unfortunate times. You told him the tale of your adulthood, when you had been married off by your parents to a richer man, as was standard.
You had never truly wanted a lover, for your own reasons. So when your husband had eventually gotten in his head that it was time for children, he may have come off too forcefull, you may have gotten scared...And he may he landed himself in the fireplace.
Perhaps it's ironic that you both died in the same, burned.
Alastor sat silently, listening to your every word as if it were gospel. He was incredibly intrigued at the vague mention of your unneed for romance.
He found you two more similar by the minute.
Thrid mistake: Romace is moronic, yes.
"You don't deserve to be here." Alastor speaks up after he let your story sink in for a moment. You freeze at the words, taking them more hostile then he meant.
"Excuse me?" You blink in confusion, not wanting to sound offended.
"You're excused..." Alastor smirks.
"No, I mean in hell. You barely did anything wrong... Just one murder? To save yourself? Come on now, you're a saint compared to the demons I know. Perhaps that's why you're so enticing." He leans to you to look into your eyes trough your deadly veil of tendrils.
"Its still a sin." You frown. It's obvious that the demons restraining himself from unescesailry touching you.
"Y/N, wouldn't you like to live in a safer area? Not one where your appartement may fall appart?" Alastor tilts his head, red and black hair bobbing to the side.
"I uhm... can't afford that?" You mention awkardly.
"What about, you come live in my territory, free of charge. All I want from you, is your compagnionship." Alastor smirks further."If this is a deal, then no thank you- respectfully." You begin.
Alastor halts you with a hand raised."No deal, just a little promise between friends."
You look into his eyes for a moment.
They don't give away anything in the slightest...
It's like you're being urged to agree.
Your appartement was in ruins..
He wasn't that bad to hang out with...
It couldn't be that bad, could it? It would be safe....
"I'll... do it? Pinky promise." You say unsurely.
Alastor visibly brightens as you stick your hand out from under your stinging veil, to pinky promise.
"It's a promise."
The rest of extermination had gone by quickly, Alastor and you had just talked more, he shared some of his own answer, wich he insisted were rare to hear.
When the battle of angels was finally over, the ruckus outside stopped and Alastor just... dissapeared, saying he had to get your residence ready.
You honestly just tought he had changed his mind and left you in your still blocked off appartement to starve.
So, as any logical person, you started making your way out, trying to get trough the rubble to get to your window, because you knew damm well that the hall way was totally ruined too.
After too much trouble then it should have been worth, you made it to the window and climbed out like worlds most inexperienced firefighter.
Landing safely on the yucky streets of hell, you took some steps back to take in your ruined appartement, years of work, gone!
You take just a moment to feel bad about everything before walking down the sidewalk to go think about what you'd do now.
It's a shame you only got half an hour to yourself before an all too expressive Radio demon appeared behind you. Quickly halting your walk with a black tentacle before you on the sidewalk.
"Why were you not in your appartement?" Alastor smiles, tough he hoped you didn't notice his little twitching eyelid or the way his sharp fingers were twitching occasionally.
"I was scared it would collapse." You explain calmly. The radio demon can't help but feel like he isn't fully in control here because of your stupid tendrils.
"It wasn't going to, my dear." Alastor reassures and tries and fails to find a way to lead you away by the shoulder.
"Well I didn't know that..." You frown slightly. Alastor falters and bends down to meet your eye again.
"Turn that frown upside down, dear. You're never fully dressed without a smile." Alastor motion to his own sharp toothed smile.
You give in and force a smile upon your face.
The Radio demon is almost offended at your fake little smile. But no matter, he'd make you smile genuingly soon. He did get you a nice house to live in, after all.
If he can't get your soul then the next best thing might aswell be having you as close as possible. In his territory. In a safe place.
Untill he figured out how to cut of those tendrils...
The next weeks went by smoothly. You had moved into the house you were promised and Alastor never failed to visit you daily.
Why he kept on his intrest, you didn't know, there wasn't anything to gain from you.
But well, you suppose overlords had diffrent plans..?
And they did... have very diffrent plans.
Like keeping a wonderfull compagnion such as yourself.
Eeveryday, Alastor got closer to finding a way to keep you, to cut off those pesky tendrils and just have his now dubbed 'friend' with him.
Surely you wouldn't mind. You wouldn't need those stingers anymore when he's here to protect you. And there's no reason to be scared of him since you both know he'd never touch you inappropriately.
Just all the time...And that forever.It's okay to hold your 'friends' isn't it? Especially if they're as cute as you...
Wich is why you found yourself in the middle of a tea party.
Your life had been peaceful and easy ever since Alastor let you live in his territory.
Altough it seemed as if none of the other residents wanted anything to do with you, you managed.
You had Alastor to keep you compagny.Just like today.Just a tea party.
The Radio demon took a sip of the tea you prepared.
You did the same.
He stopped.
You didn't.
And in one swift swoop, you found yourself wacked agaisnt the wall like a ragdoll. In complete confusion.
Seeing as nothing was supposed to even be able to touch you. No less harm you like this.
So with the pain tolerance of a toddler you slumped to the ground in pain. Clicking of shoes stopping right before you.
"You'll be fine, my darling." Alastor reassures as he looks down at you.
You gasp for air and get met with another hit. Onto the ground you fully went.
A painfull thud was felt against your head and you were out like a light.
Much to the Radio demons amusement.
You even looked peacefull, beaten up on the floor.
It was eternal.
And now it was his.
This sinner.
This sight.
All his.
_____☆_____
Yo, I made the thing. I don't know.
Also on Wattpad
Lol.
Have a nice day/night.
Requests are open as always.
Words: 3565
Tag list: @ceramic-raven , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @ellaprime7 , @ratchetprime211
#yandere#xreader#oneshots#yandere x reader#platonic yandere#alastor#hazbin hotel#yandere alastor#platonic yandere alastor#yandere hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel oneshots#hazbin hotel imagines
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birthday cake (zoro x fem!reader)
more zoro fluff, i'm on a roll lately. recently discovered i share a birthday with brook (even though it's currently ages away), and got this silly little idea. wc 1k, zoro bullies sanji. same reader as my other zoro x reader fics!
Though it may not appear so to an outside observer, Zoro hangs onto every word you have ever said, absorbing them all like a sponge. It scared him at first, worrying he was getting distracted from his training, but over time he figured that singularly focusing on swordsmanship left him with a lot of empty space in his head to fill. The things you tell him; your poetic musings, all the technical aspects of the paintings you create, your darkest fears, and your eclectic range of knowledge about almost any topic all get filed away in the back of his brain.
His crew often found themselves flabbergasted when Zoro pulled this information to the forefront. When Chopper wonders aloud how lasers work, he grabs a napkin and sketches diagrams to accompany his explanation that was at least eighty-percent correct. When Robin comments on the ever developing impressionistic style of your pieces, she is quite amused that he has quite a lot to say about your brushwork as of late, going so far as to compare the way you hold your brush to his grip on his swords; you had stopped choking up so far on your brush at his suggestion to help increase the fluidity of your marks and seen a large amount of improvement in your work as a result. During the two years he spent on Kuraigana, he drove Perona up a wall whenever he caught her reading a book he recognized and gave her his very strong opinions on the characters that were entirely based on a brief synopsis you had given him.
That’s why it makes him absolutely crazy when he realizes the stupid, shitty cook has forgotten your birthday, one of the most basic, mundane things about you.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Zoro had asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.
“Nothing too far out of the ordinary. I suppose I’ll make a cake despite the fact that Brook can’t really taste it; I know Luffy will want to throw a big party—” Sanji began, before being cut off.
“Moron. Aren’t you forgetting something?” Zoro asks, voice dropping and laced with venom.
Sanji goes pale white with the realization that you shared a birthday with Brook—he had bought you a gift ages ago and forgotten about it, the exact date vaporizing into thin air.
“I can’t believe you forgot it’s her birthday too, especially after all the nonsense she did for yours last month. I told her it wasn’t worth it, but she insisted anyways.” Zoro hisses, jaw clenched.
Sanji ignores Zoro’s hostility and begins flipping through recipes, deciding on an elaborate, three tier sponge cake with strawberry flavored icing.
“She doesn’t want that.” Zoro said, staring over his shoulder.
“Remind me what your job is here again, moss-head?” the cook asks, cigarette in his mouth snapping as he bites down on it in frustration.
Zoro goes to the cabinet that harbors his liquor stash and pulls out a small cardboard box he had bought at the last island. “This is what she wants. Do you have the special pan for it?”
Sanji examines the box of angel food cake mix and sighs. “I’m not feeding her cake mix for her birthday, moss-head. I’ll make one from scratch.” he says, swearing under his breath when he realized how much of a dent it was going to put into the ship’s supply of eggs due to the sheer amount of egg whites required.
“She wants the box mix. It’s what she grew up having. If you won’t make it I will.” Zoro insists, pushing the box back towards the cook. “You know those cookies she likes from that bakery on her home island? With tons of sugar piled on top?”
Sanji nods. “I’ve been there. Zeff and I stole the recipe years ago. It’s really just a basic sugar cookie—"
“They have to be in the shapes of lambs.” Zoro said. Sanji desperately searches the moss-head’s face for any sign of him not being serious, but he turns up empty.
“Where the hell am I going to get a cookie cutter shaped like a lamb in the middle of the ocean?” Sanji snaps, secretly grateful for Zoro’s assistance but nonetheless vexed by his the swordsman’s demanding tone.
“Dunno, but you better figure it out soon.” Zoro says with a shrug, thoroughly enjoying the emotional turmoil that this entire situation was causing Sanji. “Ask Usopp or Franky to make one for you, though who knows if they’re willing at this hour.” Sanji clenches his jaw and nods and picks up a napkin that Zoro has scribbled a rough sketch on, making a mental note to bring it to Usopp later.
As Zoro turns to walk out of the kitchen, Sanji can’t help but throw him one last remark, despite not being in the position to do so.
“I’m surprised you remembered all this, moss-head. I thought all that was between your ears was empty space and ear wax.” he says, not looking up from his recipe book.
“You’re surprised I pay attention when she talks?” Zoro asks incredulously. Sanji sighs, knowing he practically walked into that one, and prepares for another verbal lash.
“I hope I don’t have to tell you her favorite meals too. Honestly, I don’t even see why we keep you around when you can’t even get this right without my help. Stuff like this is why Nami doesn’t give you the time of day, besides being an idiot pervert and all—”
“Out of the kitchen now, moss for brains.” Sanji snaps, shoving his boot into his back and kicking him towards the exit. Before he closes the door, Zoro pokes his head through the opening.
“No frosting.” he says. “Don’t forget.”
“None at all? You’re certain?” Sanji asks incredulously. Zoro nods affirmatively and slams the door to the kitchen, finally giving the cook some peace and quiet, fingers rubbing his temples to get rid of the headache that the swordsman had given him.
The next day, your shared birthday party with Brook in the Sunny's kitchen is the most memorable you’ve ever had, and you’re nothing short of amazed when Sanji pulls out cake and cookies identical to the kind your mother always served you.
The wonder in your eyes at how Sanji was able to replicate the desserts dissipates and is replaced by appreciation and understanding when Zoro grins at you and squeezes your thigh under the table, a silent admission that he'd helped the cook put everything together.
No wonder everything turned out so perfect; how could it not when he pays so much attention to what you need?
#one piece x reader#zoro x reader#x reader#zoro x you#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#i feel a lil bit sorry for sanji in this lol#i love writing them arguing
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It's Sunday night so why not read part 3/3 of "Zoro gets lost because he uses the red string of fate like a compass" ? Part 1 here, part 2 here, ao3 here Hope you guys like it ;)
Sanji is being weird. Ever since that day on Thriller Bark, he’s definitely been avoiding him, only interacting with him when strictly necessary (to feed him), never making eye contact for too long, and leaving as quickly as he came.
Shitty cook. What’s his fuckin’ deal?
Zoro lets it sit for a couple of days, too injured to move out of the infirmary or to do anything about it anyways, before he comes up with a potential reason for the cook’s strange behaviour. It must be because of the self-sacrifice thing. It can’t be because of that... other thing, he muses.
Back at the Baratie, when they’d first met, Zoro could immediately tell that Sanji didn’t know. The blonde couldn’t see it, or feel it...nothin’. It was painfully obvious. (It didn’t make him feel hollow at all!) So, he hadn’t said anything- what would’ve been the point? It wasn’t like it mattered to him either way: his goal was already fixed. Become the world’s greatest swordsman. Then, maybe look for the person tied to his soul.
He didn’t expect to meet them so soon.
He also didn’t expect for him to come aboard and join the crew. Sure, the ridiculous moron grew on him much faster than he expected, and he took great satisfaction from having someone of comparable strength look over their crew with him, someone who could handle him, his power, his ambition, his rough edges and biting words. He wouldn’t deny that. But he also hated how the proximity made his little...navigation problem way worse.
Learning that Sanji grew up on a moving restaurant in the East Blue certainly explained why the thread moved around so much. Being on the same boat, however, brought the realisation that the closer they were to each other, the more the thread moved- and when living in such close quarters, stuck on a ship, the thread was constantly bobbing around as the cook moved around his kitchen, the pantry, the bridge, happily serving freshly prepared meals and snacks to his crewmates.
If there was one good use that he got out of this, it's that he could always find the best time to sneak some booze from the kitchen- the red string a reliable indicator of Sanji being busy elsewhere. The downside was, of course, all the teasing his nakama, especially that witch Nami, made him endure. And it’s not like he could even reciprocate the teasing the day her tattoo turned the exact shade of a certain Miss Wednesday’s hair. He couldn’t risk his debt going up.
Even when off the ship, Zoro’s sense of direction had never been as comically bad before. Using the red thread to move around was like breathing to him, and it constantly caught his eye, getting him lost- even in the midst of battle- going up the wrong stairs, running off in the wrong direction, finding himself in the most unlikely of places because the damn cook wouldn’t. stop. moving. Around. (Somewhere in his mind, Zoro was aware that he couldn’t expect Sanji to not move- he just was oh so tired of getting lost.)
He noticed that Sanji never had problems finding him. Zoro’s chest felt light whenever he did. He didn’t linger on it.
His chest feels anything but light now that Sanji is avoiding him like the plague.
Strong enough to stand after a few days’ rest, Zoro follows the red thread to the galley. He pushes the door open and catches the sweet smell of Sanji’s stress baking. Of course.
“I’m not giving you booze, marimo.” Sanji doesn’t look up from behind the counter, hands meticulously working to decorate whatever baked goods he’s whipped up today.
“’m not here for booze, cook.”
“Then get the hell out of my kitchen, it’s not lunchtime yet.”
Zoro regards him cooly, standing between the counter and the dining table, and waits for him to look up. He has time.
“...You gonna stand here all day, shithead?”
“Mn.”
Sanji sighs and meets his gaze with an affronted look, hands finally stilling in his decorating.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Zoro’s not one to beat around the bush. “Is this about what happened with Kuma?”
Sanji stays silent, absentmindedly worrying his lower lip.
“Look, I’m never gonna apologise for knockin’ you out and doing what I did- especially since everything turned out ok in the end. The crew couldn’t lose you, curls. This was my burden to bear. How can we move past this-”
His blue eyes look furious, like burning ice. “We can’t,” he bites out. Sanji reaches for his cigarettes, soothing himself with the familiar motion of placing it between his lips. It wobbles as he speaks. “And the fuck do you even mean, they couldn’t lose me- they can’t lose you, dumbass. You still have to beat Mihawk and become the greatest, right?”
Zoro sighs, tuning the cook out a bit as he nags him. Why Sanji can never see his own value, his importance to the crew, to him, he doesn’t know. He knows it’s not something he can fix with just a few words.
“Why would you even,” Sanji starts losing his words from his frustration. His thumb and forefinger pinch his cigarette and he waves it around angrily. “you silly moss- I can’t understand you!”
“That’s my line. Why did you try to take my place? Spoutin’ all that bullshit about finding another cook, huh?”
Sanji blanches, mouthing silent words as he looks for a way to answer Zoro’s question. His visible eye flits to Zoro’s hand on his chest. The swordsman notices.
“Y-you wouldn’t understand...” his face contorts painfully, brow furrowed.
Zoro takes it all in. Where he’s looking, the way he’s been acting strange...it was more than what happened on Thriller Bark, then. “Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”
“Not really, no.”
“All right. Then why don’t I let you in on a little secret.”
Zoro’s face is impassible as ever, and the cook seems intrigued.
“...sure, why the hell not.” Then, to break the tension, “You gonna tell me the secret to your ridiculous hair colour?”
“Better. ‘m gonna tell you why I get lost all the time.”
“...so you are self-aware. Good job, marimo. Maybe next you’ll figure out basic hygiene.” Sanji’s jeer doesn’t mask how intently he’s waiting for Zoro to reveal his secret.
The swordsman comes closer to the counter, placing his forearms and hands on the cool granite. Sanji’s eye follows the movement and seems to linger on the thread before returning to meet his own. This helps steel the swordsman in his decision.
“You see, the reason I get turned around and lost is ‘cause I don’t navigate like most folk do. Growing up, I relied on my inner compass, and it worked just fine- I could always tell where North was, back then. No matter where I was.”
“What changed?”
“My north started movin’ around,” he huffs.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah, didn’t make sense to me either. But then my friend told me that the red string on my finger wasn’t a compass.”
From how close they’re standing; Zoro hears Sanji’s breath hitch. He grins and brings his hand up from the counter, wiggling his pinky.
“Y-you can see it?” Sanji’s face is twisted with shock and confusion.
“Always have.”
“But then why- why didn’t you say anything?”
“Could tell that you didn’t see it too. Didn’t wanna make a fuss.”
Sanji’s mouth opens on an inhale- ready to retort, but Zoro cuts him off before he gets the chance. “Think, cook. How would’ve you had reacted if I’d told you?”
That shuts him up. Head slightly hanging, his unlit cigarette is in pieces, wrung out by his nervous hands.
Always a contrarian, Zoro feels calm, his chest now warm and light like bread fresh from the oven. He can feel his lips stretch into a lazy smile despite himself. The shitty cook can see it. He can see the thread. It’s a start.
“Sanji.”
His blue eyes are cloudy, distant, deep in thought, and it takes him a few seconds to realise that swordsman said his name. His actual name. Zoro’s chest feels a little tight at the cute blush that dusts his cheeks, spreading to his ears. Tempers the urge to tease him about it, watch it deepen. He should probably say the important stuff first, do what he came here to do in the first place.
“I won’t apologise for Thriller Bark because I'm selfish. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Zoro prefers to speak with actions, not words, and he hopes that this action was loud enough.
Listen, cook. Please listen.
Sanji ponders his words for a moment, eyes searching his face with an intensity that keeps Zoro rooted to the spot. Under his crisp white button up, his chest rises and falls with a deep, deep sigh. He seems to come to a decision, and Zoro can’t deny his sweaty palms are itching to fidget with his earrings as he watches Sanji join him on his side of the counter. His footsteps suddenly feel quite loud, the light a bit too bright- but Zoro keeps his face schooled in a neutral expression and turns to face his crewmate.
The thread is short, now, their bodies, close.
“You won’t apologise.”
Zoro shakes his head no.
“Then you better be ready to make it up to me your whole life, you shitty marimo.”
I hear you.
Zoro’s heart beats like war drums, victorious and bold and indomitable, blood racing, making his body sizzle with restless energy. He watches in awe as Sanji’s hand- the one with a delicately corded red rope tied to the pinky- reaches for his own, interlocking their hands between them. It looks nice, the red string bright and proud against their skins’ neutral tones. Evidence of their unique bond.
His face must be saying something because Sanji looks handsomely mischievious, pearly whites peeking out from an idiotic grin.
“So, you’re gonna kiss me or what?”
Zoro doesn’t need to be asked twice, and for once, does as Sanji says.
#saying sanji's name can actually be something so personal#i love these two idiots so much#zoro choosing to reveal he knows in the most dramatic way possible#because he is that bitch#he's that i t g i r l#you know he is that girl#zoro roronoa#black leg sanji#zoro x sanji#zosan#one piece zosan#zosan fanfiction#zosan fic#zosan fanfic#zosan soulmate au#red string of fate
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LMAO READER AND JARED GETTING HIGH AF WHILE READERS BOYFRIENDS (embry and paul) ARE CONFUSED AFFF ON WHATS GOING ON WHILE THEY TRYNA ACT SOBER BUT KEEP LAUGHING AT EVERYTHING😭😭
PLEASEEEEE💀💀
...
"jared," you burst into laughter right after you said his name, both of you cracking up over nothing.
the two of you had decided to share a blunt about a half an hour prior and were just now feeling the effects of your decision. unfortunately for the two of you, your boyfriends - embry and paul - had gotten back from patrol slightly earlier than they originally thought so they walked in just as the two of you started cracking each other up.
"hey princess," paul smiled when he saw you, quickly stepping over to your place on the couch to give you a soft kiss.
you giggled, smiling up at him, doing your best to look as normal as possible, "everything okay?" embry asked softly as he sat down next to you, gently cupping your face in his hand so he could scan your face.
you nodded, smiling at him too. you were too afraid to say anything, already knowing that if you opened your mouth it'd be a dead giveaway that you and jared were cooked out of your minds.
"hm," embry hummed, looking over to paul who shrugged, "did you make her dinner or anything yet?" embry asked jared who looked like a deer caught in headlights.
the face he made had you instantly cracking up, bursting into a fit of giggles which led jared to do the same thing a moment later.
"okay what the fuck did you two do?" paul asked, chuckling as he crouched down in front of you to get a better look at you.
"jared," you turned to the male beside you and burst into laughter again when you saw his expression, both of you doing an absolutely horrific job of pretending to be sober.
"oh my god," paul groaned as he got up and noticed the blunt in the ashtray next to jared, "you seriously got her high you moron?" he asked, rolling his eyes when jared nodded.
embry chuckled, picking up and pulling you into his lap which had you squealing, bursting into another fit of giggles at the action, "you're high?" embry questioned, chuckling when you nodded.
"just a little bit." you whispered, giggling when embry pulled you close to him and pressed his lips to your hair, "jared and i are trying to watch a movie." you whispered to embry who nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before allowing you to crawl off his lap and over to jared who had laid back down on the couch while paul chewed him out for getting high with you.
"outta the way paul, me and princess are watching a movie tonight," jared mused dramatically, both of you laughing as you pulled a blanket over your waist and curled into embry's side.
"move fatass," paul grumbled, dramatically pushing jared out of the way so he could sit in between the two of you, "how much did you smoke kitten?" paul asked you, his tone softening as he spoke to you.
you giggled, smiling up at him, "i dunno," you beamed, puckering your lips and he just rolled his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before allowing you to get him under the blanket with you and embry as well.
"alright just..." he trailed off, "just watch the movie, yea?" he suggested and you giggled, nodding as you took his hand and interlaced your fingers, happy to be between both of your imprinters.
#poly!embryxreaderxpaul#poly!paulxreaderxembry#embry call#paul lahote#embry call x reader#paul lahote x reader#embry call imagine#embry call blurb#paul lahote imagine#paul lahote blurb#paul lahote fluff#paul lahote smut#paul lahote angst#embry call fluff#embry call smut#embry call angst#twilight#tts#the twilight saga#twilight wolfpack#twilight wolves#twilight wolfpack imagine#twilight wolves imagines#sam uley#emily young#jared cameron#quil ateara#jacob black#seth clearwater#leah clearwater
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𝑊𝑖��𝑒 𝑀𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝐹𝑜𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒
Even the wisest of men are no strangers to the addicting feeling of love. A feeling no darshan can explain, an emotion that can make even geniuses such as them - crumble into irrationality, moronic actions unexplainable, acting like fools pining for love.
Sumeru Men Story Teasers : Cyno x Reader; Tighnari x Reader; Cyno x Reader x Alhaitham; all gender neutral
(Read: teasers for my WIPs that I'm too slow to work on)
+
𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬
He should have been stronger.
Cyno was no stranger to prejudice and judgment, but he had the greatest patience and the iron will to not be moved so easily. It came naturally as a desert dweller among the sea of Akademiya scholars, their side glances and hushed whispers in the dark.
The forest never took kindly to those born over the scorching sands, so when you came up to him with innocent excitement and unadulterated passion, he was unprepared by the strength of your heart.
Against his iron walls, they turned into sand dunes easily swept away. He was no stranger to prejudice and judgment, nor to temptations and vices, so easy to whisk him away in your presence so welcoming of him.
He should have been stronger.
He should have been strong enough to resist your warmth. To refuse you despite you accepting him wholeheartedly.
He should have been strong enough to refuse your reckless offer.
He should have been strong enough to keep you safe.
But Cyno is just as human as any other person in Sumeru, he was no iron wall. There in the depths of the ruins his wails echoed with raw emotion as he gripped your motionless body closer, growing colder against his chest.
He freely cried in desperation knowing there were no audience to his vulnerable state, only the constructs that caused both of you to bleed, and the remnants of a spirit you were deadset on knowing. The main reason the both of you had fallen into this place, and soon, the reason you fall.
"Please, someone," the desperation in his hoarse voice felt foreign even to himself. "Save them, please. Anything... I'll do anything, just save them."
Cyno swore to no religion or deity, but that day even a stranger would have owed his life if they were to save the one he loves. Was it a blessing or a curse for his prayer to be answered?
"Your heart is light, worthy to be a vessel." There is a weight on his shoulder and power behind him, stealing the air from his lungs in waiting tension. "I will give you the strength to save them, human, but from then on your heart will be weighed, judged until you are no longer worthy."
Cyno was a man that can't be moved easily in the face of danger and temptation.
Yet when his hand went to cradle your bloodied cheek, he knew from the very beginning that he would move the stars, the moon and the sun to keep your warmth alight and aflame. He seals his promise with a bloodied kiss.
And with a steeled gaze, he lifts his head with voice filled of pure devotion. "Anything."
You offered an inch, he's willing to sacrifice a mile in return.
+
Komorebi
At one point he thought to ask, since when did he care so much about anything beyond his darshan? When, oh when did anything beyond plants ever intrigue him like this?
"Box wrench, 8 points," your gloved palm reaching out brought him out of his musings, his own hand scrambling to pick up the tool from the table, hoping that was the right one. "Thank you."
Tighnari never imagined that he would find himself here, inside a workshop devoid of the greenery he'd loved, the scent of grease and rust in the air so foreign to him. Cogs and metal scraping grating in his sensitive ears.
Why was he here? Right, to accompany you on your current project.
Inside your room that became your garage of inventions, it smacked Tighnari on the face just how different you two are.
Kshahrewar and Amurta. Metals and plants.
"That should be it," he watched as you removed your googles, planting it atop your head. It gave way to your wide eyes, practically glowing in contentment. That was always the best part of coming here, watching you in your natural environment, in a place you fit in so easily.
Perhaps this was how you see him when he talked about the successful growth of the flowers assigned to him in Pardis Dhyai.
"Thank you for the help as always, Tighnari." While you worked on removing your gloves, you can't seem to peel your eyes away from looking at him. "There's something on your face."
What? "Here?" The ravenette furrowed his brow in confusion, rubbing at the spot you were eyeing with the sleeve of his robe. A dark spot now stained it.
"Here, let me." Tighnari's eyes widened as you licked your thumb without hesitance before rubbing it on the spot where the grease stain dirtied his light skin. "There we go, much better."
The damp touch had his tail, ears, and the hairs at the back of his neck stand straight. Tighnari was never shy, never quiet. Yet he couldn't stop himself from burying his face in his hands, his embarrassment ever more apparent from the warmth he felt from it.
What is he supposed to do? Especially when he's with you?
+
𝐄𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬
Alhaitham wasn't one to dwell on regrets regarding his decisions, especially not one this long.
But he couldn't help but wonder how things would play out in an alternate timeline where he had chosen differently, where he didn't adhere to his principles and instead taken what he was first offered. A guiltless, unrestrained pursuit of knowledge —
Would he be so willing to give that up just for you? Just for you to look at him again?
At the very least, his choices had lead him here, to not be the victim of your cold, indifferent gaze.
Quietly he followed your line of sight to his companion standing next to him, the General Mahamatra. "Former General Mahamatra." Cyno's grip on his staff tightened like his scowl. "Surrender yourselves right here and now."
From the short time that they had been forced together, the Scribe knew that expression were different from the irritation of stalling culprits, nor rage for the Akademiya minions that recklessly used the lives of the Village Keepers. This was not a bitter look shared between enemies, or those one perceived as enemies.
Then and there the lunatic realized that perhaps the both of them had at least one thing in common.
Clearing the pained expression from his face at the sight of your red Akasha and polearm readying to fight, Cyno (with great reluctance) readied himself for a fight next to Alhaitham, the air holding its breathe as the your gaze continued to size them up. In that moment, the two men shared a look -
Before dispersing their weapons away in favor of their fists and raw strength.
Dispose the Akasha terminal in your ear, quick and painless.
"If I ever see one cut on them," Cyno's voice was borderline murderous. "I'll make sure to give you tenfold of their pain."
"We may be temporary allies right now," Alhaitham's voice was taunting and confident, paired with a smirk that contrasts Cyno's scowl. "But that doesn't mean I'm letting you win."
And the long, dreaded fight started the moment your controlled self triggered your Delusion, forcing them to dodge as you made the first strike.
They'll free you from the vile control of the Akademiya, there is no doubt on that.
It's just a matter of who can do it first.
Based on my brainrots here and here. I'm quite the sapiophile - ohhh that's a potential title right there. I've changed Cyno's story title too many times and I'm still not satisfied.
#cyno x reader#tighnari x reader#alhaitham x reader#al haitham x reader#cyno x reader x alhaitham#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#gender neutral#exile.flower#exile.circlet#deity from above please give me the energy and focus to write in one sitting#genshin impact fluff#genshin impact angst#majorly contemplating whether the tighnari one should just be one long oneshot at this point#sumeru arc
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→ Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader
Summary: When a guy asks for your number, you sternly insist on a condition that leads to unexpected love.
Content Warning: Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Highly Suggestive, Canon-Compliant, Swearing, Social Media AU
Taglist: Open
Series Masterlist
Chapter 12: Aquarium Date
Written Portion
Apart from the bustling traffic outside, it's rather quiet inside the car, the soft tune from the radio barely reaching your ear.
"You look pretty," Suna's voice breaks the silence. You turn and notice that his eyes still remain focused on the slew of cars in front of him
He's wearing something of a pseudo suit, a soft blue shirt donning his figure as he continues to drive. His hair was a bit combed, a stark contrast from his usual mussed self. "Likewise," you reply, your gaze soon drawing back to the road ahead.
"So, how did you know?" You continue to add, "About the aquarium, I mean."
"Oikawa told me," he reveals plainly.
Your eyebrows arch in surprise, "When did you start talking to him?"
"Just recently. Just texted him while I was searching for places," he explained.
A subtle disquiet settles in, prompting a dramatic sigh from you. "This is bad news for me."
The car comes to a halt; your glance shifts upward, catching sight of the red traffic signal. You turn your head to him and find that his eyes are already fixed on you, "And why's that, baby?"
"Well," you pout. "He has a lot of shit on me."
He smiles, leaning down to leave a soft kiss to shoo away the pout.
"Are they together now or something?" He asks.
"Yeah, Iwa asked him out on Twitter like a moron. Oikawa's never going to let him live that down."
"Poor guy," he muses in response.
"So, since it's our first date as a couple and all." You ask, curious. "How are we feeling?"
"How are you feeling?" he deflects. "I did plan this for you, you know."
A smile tugs at your lips, "I feel good so far. So long as the glasses on the aquarium don't break, I think it might be the best first date ever."
"First best date ever? My my, aren't you setting the standards too high?"
"Never with you, baby."
A soft smile etches itself onto his lips as he revs up the engine, the car gliding through the traffic as the traffic signal turns green.
—
“Suna, look! That's Bioluminescent Jellyfish. I've always wanted to see one," you exclaim, your voice filled with wonder.
He joins you, positioning himself behind you to see where you're pointing. “Where exactly?”
With a soft chuckle leaves your lips, you playfully nudge him. "You don't have to stand right behind me, you know."
He tilts his head, his expression genuinely intrigued. "I really can't see it."
With an amused smile, you step back to his side and gently guide his gaze with your hand, directing his attention to the delicate corals at the bottom of the expansive tank. "See those white fish?"
He lets out a contemplative hum, focusing on the area you're indicating. "Yes."
"Right next to them," you say as you turn, watching his feigned squinting turning into a smirk he couldn't fully withhold.
You move back, tilting your head, as he continues to smirk. "Always a game huh, Suna Rintaro?"
He grins, a silent affirmation as his hands come to pull you in front of him. He rests his chin on your shoulders as the two of you watch in silence.
"They're pretty though, aren't they?" You speak up.
"Not as pretty as you," he replies, leaving a soft peck on your cheeks.
The two of you spend the rest of the evening, flitting through from one side of the tank to the other, moving onto different tanks, and soon as the hours dissolve the two of you start heading to the exit.
You gaze upon the tank one last time and turn to find Suna but as you do, you find Suna with his phone up, discreetly attempting to take a photo of you.
"Have you been taking pictures of me, Suna Rintaro?"
"Just the one," he says, showing you the result. "Can I post it?"
Fun Fact:
When they were 14, Y/N told Oikawa that her ideal date would be a trip to the local aquarium. He has been trying to take her on a friendship date ever since, but something has always come up. He's just glad Suna could give her the perfect date he always wanted to give her.
TAGLIST: @wolffmaiden @tenaciouswritersheep @90s-belladonna @alienvarmint @kodzuchim @themoonreflectsthesun @baramii @haruskatana @rukia-uchiha-98 @aimno256 @userwithlotsoftime @the-moonandthehermit @alldaladiesloveleooo @iluv-ace @noideawhothatis @vivian-555 @buggy-cj @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @cloudsvna @zukowantshishonourback @rory-cakes @shookykookie30 @2baddies-1porsche @thechaosoflonging @rntrsuna @ahnneyong @saiewithakatana @sukunasrealgf @reveusecherie @tkooooop @k0z3me @riiceandsoup @weird0o0 @toomanygoldfish @seiamor @thebrownemo @breakmyheartlater @xbl00dy-r0s3x @linmabbe
#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintaro fic#suna rintaro x you#suna rintaro x y/n#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyu x reader#suna rintaro smau#suna rintaro smut#haikyuu smau series#haikyuu smau#suna rintaro fluff#suna rintaro angst#suna x reader#suna x y/n#suna x you#suna x reader smau#suna rintaro x reader smau#suna rintaro x reader series#suna rinatro#suna rintarou#suna rinatro x reader smut#suna x reader fluff#suna x reader angst
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a writer & his muse — sirius black
writing masterlist | askbox
─── summary: renowned mystery writer sirius black has a new muse, and it just so happens to be the homicide detective who hates him. (castle!au)
─── pairing: mystery writer!sirius black x detective!reader.
─── warnings: fluffy banter, mild threats of violence, sirius is a little bastard and knows it, honestly just a fun time. muggle au.
─── word count: 1k.
You're not entirely sure what you did to deserve this sort of punishment.
The station is pretty quiet when you arrive, as it usually is this early in the morning. A sigh of relief escapes you as you arrive at your desk, dropping your bag at the foot of your chair, and you realise that aforementioned punishment — the newest irritation in your life — has yet to arrive.
You’d really love to know what you did to deserve this. Whether you accidentally pissed off some ancient deity, or cut in line at the supermarket so your cosmic karma is unbalanced, or perhaps your boss just really hates you, even though he invited you to his birthday barbecue a few months ago and had called you, endearingly, the 'best detective he'd ever trained.'
You hadn't thought he could be harbouring a secret grudge against you, but really, what other reason could there be for this kind of punishment?
And it is a punishment. Of that, you have no doubt. It is a tooth-grinding, migraine-inducing kind of punishment, and if you weren't acutely aware of the consequences, you might have tried to murder him by now.
Him being, of course, the world-famous mystery writer, Sirius Black.
What a smarmy, egotistical little bastard.
From the very moment he sauntered into the station, wearing a beat-up leather jacket and a devil-may-care smirk, you'd known your life was about to get complicated. Or, well, more complicated.
Your job is difficult enough, chasing down criminals and solving murders all day, without having a nosy moron breathing down your neck, spouting crackpot conspiracy theories when the evidence is much more straightforward.
You hear his footsteps on the linoleum before he strolls around the corner, clutching a cup of takeout coffee in each hand. He sets one of them on the desk in front of you, brandishing a crooked grin like a weapon.
"How is my lovely muse this morning?" He winks at you as he slumps into a nearby chair, pulled close to the corner of your desk for research purposes. You wonder if he's ever heard the phrase 'personal space'.
Your lip curls. A slew of paperwork has been spread across your desk for an hour, all related to the case you solved earlier in the week, where Black had been, surprisingly, somewhat helpful. Your boss had been liberal with his praise, and Black's ego had puffed up to an insufferable degree.
Unfortunately, you're now reaping the consequences.
"Considering if I can kill you and make it look like an accident," you reply, your voice flat. You sniff the coffee before taking a sip. Annoyance punches through you when you realise he has your coffee order memorised. You want to bury him in a shallow grave.
Black leans back in his chair, a wide grin sweeping over his face. "If anyone could, it would be you."
"Does any part of this shadowing gig involve helping me with the, frankly ridiculous, amount of paperwork you generate?"
He purses his lips in thought for a moment before shaking his head. Strands of shaggy black hair fall around his face. "Never really written the paperwork into my books. A bit boring, you know. Nothing the readers want to bother with."
You roll your eyes. "And yet, Mr Black, you insist on bothering me."
"Sirius, please." He chuckles at you. How were you unlucky enough to catch his attention? How insane is he, wanting to follow a homicide detective around for research on his new book? "Mr Black is my father, and a large part of the reason I write mysteries, not horror." He feigns a shudder.
"Mr Black," you say, fixing him with an unamused glare. "When, exactly, do you think you'll be finished with your book?"
"Detective, you wound me!" He splays his hand over his chest, just above his heart. You try not to stare at the tattoos flexing across his knuckles, or the way his shirt goes tight across his chest. "Here I was, thinking you enjoyed our time together."
"Like a hole in the head," you mutter.
There's a teasing twinkle in his eyes. He takes a long sip of his own coffee while you return your attention to the paperwork, scribbling your signature in the appropriate places.
Every once in a while, you can feel him watching you. Eyes like swirls of cigarette smoke, analysing your every move. There’s an odd little tick he has, his fingers tapping an unfamiliar rhythm against his leg. Whether the sound is soothing or frustrating, you can’t quite decide.
The shrill ringing of your desk phone startles you both. He’s trying not to laugh, you can tell, as your hand darts out to answer it.
I wonder if this is how zoo animals feel, you think to yourself as you listen to the officer on the other end of the line. You scratch the information out onto a post-it note, an address and a few other key details, before hanging up.
He’s a bundle of energy beside you. His knee bounces, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that is beyond inappropriate, considering the circumstances of your job and his so-called research.
It’s like being stalked by a golden retriever, except you’re certain you would prefer the dog over Sirius Black’s presence.
“Grab your coat, Mr Black. We’ve got a body.” You push yourself away from your desk, filing the paperwork away in the drawer for later.
He bounces to his feet with a level of enthusiasm that should, frankly, be illegal.
“Try to be a little less excited,” you say in a chiding, exhausted voice as you lead him out of the station. “Someone is dead.”
“I’ll try to be as macabre as possible, detective,” he assures you. He climbs into the passenger seat of your car, drumming his fingers against his leg in that bizarre non-rhythm again. “I’ll channel my mother. You know, I based one of my characters on her…”
Tuning him out is easier said than done, but you do your best. The book must be nearly finished. How much more research can he possibly do?
You just have to grit your teeth and bear his presence for a few more weeks. You just have to make sure you don’t kill him for a few more weeks. He’ll surely get bored of you and find a new muse at some point, right?
#sirius black x reader#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fanfiction#marauders era fanfiction#sirius black imagine#marauders era imagine#* chapter update.
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I Swear I Won’t Tease You
Pairing: mob boss!Lloyd Hansen x femme!reader (le grand homme and coquinette, Poison Paradise AU)
Words: ~2.1k
Summary: Lloyd is fascinated by you from the start.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (public sex, minor degradation, lil bit of choking, pussy petting, over the panties stuff, Lloyd’s filthy mouth, some biting), alcohol consumption, thievery, lots of French pet names, mentions of violence, Lloyd is a charismatic asshole, mentions of prostitution, klepto reader, meet “cute”? SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!
A/N: Holy shit, I’m in love with Lloyd Hansen. That psycho woke up my muse in a big way, so be prepared for a bunch of shit starring this asshole for the near future. I literally wrote this in one day and I don’t know how long it’s been since that happened!
I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!!
Lloyd cracked his neck as he walked into the packed Paris club, rolling his head on his shoulders and growling to himself as he made his way to the bar, his two bodyguards trailing after him. As much as he loved his work, sometimes he hated the travel, especially when it came to having to deal with the unwashed, stuck up frogs in this loser of a country. If he hadn’t desperately needed a drink after slicing that asshole's face off, he would have just made his way back to the hotel and planned on taking the jet back to the states first thing in the morning.
“Find a goddamn phone and let Fowler know Jeanette’s gonna be sending the new batch of girls out in a week.” Lloyd nodded at Brutus after ordering himself a Glenlivet, hissing when he took a gulp and felt the warm liquor burn his throat. “And if Walker is there, tell him I don’t want to see his face for a fucking month and that his twat of a gun contact is now a dead twat.”
“Walker’s not gonna like that boss.” The giant meat head shrugged uncomfortably when Lloyd turned his glare to him before ordering another drink.
“You really think I give a fuck? Do your damn job.” Lloyd snarled as the dumbass finally walked away, sipping on his second scotch slowly and leaning against the bar as he surveyed the crowd that was packed into the club. “Morons.”
Even as the liquor started to relax him he was regretting his choice of venue for his drink, especially when some dick in a white suit knocked into him and almost made him spill. Maybe he’d just find some desperate thing to take back to his hotel and break the bed with, since he hadn’t gotten to test out the new whores like he normally would and filleting that cunt hadn’t gotten out as much aggression as he had expected. He wanted to ruin something, and there seemed to be plenty of dumb little sluts here that were just ripe for the picking.
Oh, wait just a fucking minute. Who the hell were you? In that sweet little pink dress and those heels that pretty much guarantee you couldn’t run away from anyone, though you were still managing to put off every single douche bag that was coming up to you with a shy little smile and big eyes that made you look like the picture of chaste innocence that would be perfect to ruin. Yeah, he was going to make you cry the prettiest fucking tears he’d ever seen.
“Foutez le camp d'ici.” Lloyd growled at the dumbass who was trying to put his hand on your arm as he flirted impotently with you, scowling at him until he scurried away before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Bonjour, chérie.”
“Bonjour.” You tilted your chin down and gazed at him through your lashes as you bit your lip, and holy fuck did he want to watch you choke on his cock. “Je suis désolé…”
“Vous êtes américain?” He wasn’t going to let you finish that thought, twirling his ring around his pinky as he grinned when you gave him a small nod. There was no way he was leaving this club without at least tasting your lips, and you seemed like the type who just needed to be told what to do. “Ah, me too. What are you doing in Paris, pretty girl?”
“Just… seeing the sights, taking in some culture.” You let out a small sigh as you watched him carefully, cocking your head when he lifted his drink to his lips and the ruby on his ring caught the light. “Enjoying the beautiful things the city has to offer.”
“Hmm, as well you should, chaton.” Lloyd dragged his tongue over his bottom lip when the press of the crowd forced you to step closer to him, reaching out to slowly trace his fingertips along the curve of your shoulder and down your arm. “A course, there isn’t anything here as beautiful as you.” The way you giggled and batted your eyelashes at him let him know he had you, he wondered if you were a virgin, god that would make it even better. “Finish your drink so you can dance with me, poupée.”
You purred when he took your glass from you and set it on the bar once you had finished, sighing softly when he grabbed your hand and pressed some kisses over your knuckles before leading you towards the dance floor. As soon as the two of you reached the floor he was pulling you close and sliding his hands down your back until he was squeezing your hips, letting out a soft growl when you gasped as you braced your palms against his chest, scowling at his remaining bodyguard over your shoulder and jerking his head at him so he would fucking get lost. Lloyd couldn’t believe how goddamn soft you were, he was gonna bruise you the fuck up.
“What’s your name, ma douce?” He ducked even closer to you and groaned appreciatively when you told him, dragging his cheek over your temple and fighting the urge to smack your ass at the feeling of your hips rolling against his. “Mmm, that’s lovely. My name’s Lloyd, sweet thing. I want you to remember that when I make you scream later tonight.”
“Lloyd, you’re so forward.” You gave him a teasing pout before whining softly when he turned you around and wrapped his arms around your waist, winding your fingers through his and gasping when he pressed his lips to the side of your neck. “But I have such an early tour tomorrow, I have to go soon.”
“Oh non, mon ami.” His voice was a soothing purr as he started guiding you towards an empty corner of the club once the song changed, trailing his lips up your jaw until he could bite your ear. “No, I’ll make you feel so good, ma chére. Need more than just a taste of you.” If he didn’t get to at least finger you he was gonna be in a mood tomorrow.
“What if I… hmm.” You moaned when he cut you off by gripping your jaw and tilting your head back so he could smash his lips to yours, pressing your body against the wall and sliding his other hand down the curve of your hip until he could grip the edge of your skirt and start to drag it up your thigh. “I can give you my hotel’s number and we can set something up for later this week.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me, darling.” He slid his knee between your legs to force them open while you planted heavily into his mouth, swallowing your soft whimper with a grin when he brushed his fingertips over the damp lace that was covering your core. “I just need one, promise I’ll be quick.”
The only response you could give him once he rubbed your clit over your panties was a tiny moan, your mouth falling open when he started circling your swollen bud harshly and letting him shove his fingers between your teeth and press on the back of your tongue until you were drooling all over his hand. Lloyd watched your face with a wicked glint in his eye while he watched you fall apart under his touch, cooing demeaningly against your cheek when he felt you shaking in his arms and tears started leaking from the corners of your eyes, his achingly hard cock pulsing in his slacks as he ground it against your perfect ass.
“Look at you, I thought you were a good girl, ma douce. But here you are about to come like a little slut in front of all these people just from having this sweet little pussy pet a tiny bit.” He bit your cheek and groaned when you sobbed around his fingers, your cunt throbbing under his hand when he gave your clit a sharp smack. “So fucking easy, you gonna cream your pretty panties, chérie? Do it, I want you to come for me, ma petite pute. Make a fucking mess of yourself, come the fuck on.”
The sudden dig of his fingernail against your clit through the lace had your eyes rolling back in your head as your legs almost gave out, your pussy clenching and fluttering around nothing while cream flowed out of you and soaked right through your panties, staining Lloyd’s fingers as he growled against your skin. He pressed you closer to the wall as your body vibrated with pleasure, caging you in his arms and burying his face in your hair as his cock throbbed and twitched until he was filling his briefs with a snarl. You swallowed thickly when he finally pulled his fingers from between your lips, looking at him with glassy eyes as he dragged his nose over your cheek with a deep purr.
“What a pretty thing you are, can you even talk, ami?” His chuckle was dark when you just panted and licked your lips as you whimpered for him, giving your cunt a pat like a good bitch before pulling your skirt back down. “Poor baby, you’re gonna give me your number so I can ruin you again next time I need a good fuck and I’m in the area:”
“O-okay.” You gasped when you turned around and pulled a card out of your clutch, giving it to him with a trembling hand that he gripped to press kisses over your wrist as he tucked the card into his breast pocket. “I-I really do have to go.”
“Alright, chérie, you take care.” Lloyd leaned close and kissed your cheek almost tenderly. “I hope you think about me next time you touch yourself. I might even think of you, petite colombe. You’re almost too sweet for your own good.”
You just swallowed thickly when he finally let you go, wiping the back of your hand over your ruined face and squeezing your thighs together as you walked away after giving him a quizzical smile. Lloyd found something about you puzzlingly endearing, like he’d only barely scratched the surface of what you would let him do to you, maybe even of what you could do to him. He didn’t feel like you were just a typical pump and dump, he actually wanted to see your pretty face again.
“Ready to go boss?” Lloyd actually didn’t feel like tearing the man’s throat out when he opened his stupid mouth, how refreshing.
“Yeah, let me just pay.” He frowned when he reached into his back pocket and didn’t find his money clip, the furrow between his brows deepening when it wasn’t in any of his other pockets either. “What the fuck? Where’s my damn money?”
“Your ring’s missing too, boss.” Brutus took a step back when Lloyd snarled at him, his magnanimous mood evaporating when he looked at his hand and found that the signet ring that never left his pinkie was in fact gone.
“What in the… oh ho, oh shit!” Lloyd couldn’t help himself, he started laughing when the realization hit him, cackling wildly and doubling over for a minute before he finally got himself under control again. “Oh, that tricky little bitch, she fucking robbed me! Fuck, she’s got some balls on her. Change of plans boys, looks like we’re gonna be sticking around Paris a little longer. I’ve got a pretty little thief to track down. Ooh, this is gonna be fun. I’m fucking excited.”
You grinned to yourself as you reached your motorcycle you had parked a few blocks away, spitting the ring out from where you had it tucked under your tongue and admiring it before sliding it onto your ring finger. The fact that it fit perfectly was like fate, making you wiggle your fingers so it caught the light as you sat on the bike. You plucked the money clip from inside your bra and flipped through its contents, giggling at the size of the bills and the Eurocard. The ring was what you couldn’t stop playing with, though, that had caught your eye and made you let that gorgeous but intimidating man touch you however he wanted. ‘Lloyd Hansen’ sure seemed like he could be a lot of fun. Too bad you were never going to see him again.
A/N: Don’t worry, she’s definitely gonna see him again 😘
#natalie writes#poison paradise#le grand homme and coquinette#lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x fem!reader#lloyd hansen smut#lloyd hansen x y/n#lloyd hansen x you#lloyd hansen x reader#chris evans#chris evans smut#chris evans character#eighteen and over#eighteen plus
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restless
keigo takami x gn!reader
cws: none, just a classic one bed two people scenario and a whole lotta fluff
"honestly, i don't know if this conference is worth it, i'm exhausted." you groaned, leaning on the hotel desk counter.
"it'll be over before ya know it." hawks mused bracingly. he dinged the bell on the counter and the clerk looked up. "hi, we should have two rooms under the name 'hawks' and 'y/n'?"
the clerk smiled nervously. "we have one room booked under hawks, and the booking says two people would be sleeping in that room?"
you sighed. "i don't know why we trusted the agency to book the hotel room." you turned to the clerk. "are there any other rooms available?"
"no, i'm sorry." she grimaced.
"it's fine, we're fine sharing, aren't we, y/n?" hawks grinned, taking the room key. you rolled your eyes, but didn't reply. you hoisted your bag onto your shoulder and followed him down the hotel hall.
you and hawks had been invited to a hero conference and decided to go together. you were close and had worked together before, so you appreciated his company. he was kind, and funny, and extremely helpful. and also incredibly attractive.
the hotel room was cosy, with a double bed in the middle. you set your bags down and flopped onto the cushy white sheets. the small clock on the nightstand read 11pm.
"sleepyhead." hawks smirked. "want me to tuck you in?"
"shut up." you breathed. "we should sleep...we have to be up at six..."
"yeeeeaaah." he gave a big stretch. "i'm gonna get changed, turn around."
ten minutes later, you were both laying in bed staring at the ceiling. it was a bit awkward, neither of you felt that you felt like you could get properly comfortable. you shifted a bit, and then that shifting turned into wriggling around.
"can't sleep, huh?" hawks asked into the darkness.
"no. can't get comfy." you grumbled, still wriggling. you were getting frustrated. "god, i just want to sleep!"
"hey, hey." hawks said with an uncharacteristically soft voice. "lie still."
you sighed, and lay still.
"good. now....can i do something kinda weird?"
"mhm."
he shifted and you felt him turn to face you, and suddenly, his arms were wrapping around you, pulling you close into his chest. you felt yourself freeze, but then the warmth and comfort of his embrace flooded you, and you let your thoughts go and nuzzled into him.
"god, i've been waiting for ages for an excuse to have you in my arms."
you felt your face warm. did he really just say that? did he mean that? why were you so happy? why were you suddenly feeling a boatload of emotions for this blonde moron?
"do you...mean that?"
he squeezed you gently. "of course i do, idiot. i've....i just never...."
"we can take things slow, hawks. it's okay." you whispered, squeezing him back. everything felt upside down, but also incredible. it was like something had become clear in your mind. hawks was silent for a moment.
"keigo."
"what?"
"keigo. that's my real name." he sounded scared, like a frightened child, as if the name was some sort of dirty word.
"i like it." you smiled into him. "keigo."
he chuckled. "it sounds nicer when you say it."
"keigo..." you said relished the sound on your tongue. "can i kiss you, keigo?"
he breathed a smile and pulled away slightly to see your face.
"yes, y/n. you may."
#keigo takami#keigo takami x you#keigo takami x y/n#keigo takami x reader#x reader#x male reader#x gender neutral reader#x gn reader#hawks#hawks x reader#hawks x y/n#hawks x you#bnha#mha#imagine#imagines#my hero academia#boku no hero academia
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Title: Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree
Fandom: MCU
Characters/Pairings: King!Steve x Royal!female!Reader, brief appearance from Natasha
Word Count: 3.4k
Summary: Georgian-but-quasi-American royal AU. You came into the betrothal with no illusions to the situation – yours was a marriage to ensure the continuation of many generations of alliance and peace between your respective kingdoms. Very early, however, you learn what your royal union truly means to you both.
Content Warnings: politically arranged marriage, reluctant pining, SMUT (rough fucking, p in v, oral – female receiving, fluffy fucking, nipple play)
Additional Notes: The eighth and final offering in my 2022 Holiday Extravaganza. Just a smutty one-shot here with a smattering of situation painting/plot and relationship development. Did I think we were going to end up with this much Steve for the HE? Nope! But here we are, yet again ahaha. I had closed my laptop and gotten up to go to bed, had this idea while brushing my teeth, and sat back down and typed for an hour, then have been feverishly returning to it as I had the time. So I hope you enjoy, dear reader.
Music Ficspiration: Big God by Florence + the Machine, I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face from My Fair Lady, Better Love by Hozier, Movement by Hozier, So Real by Jeff Buckley, Lover, You Should’ve Come Over by Jeff Buckley
“Your Majesty,” one of your ladies in waiting enters your bedchambers and sweeps into a curtsy.
“Yes?” you prompt, turning in your chair to look at her directly instead of through mirror of the vanity.
“His Majesty the King has returned.”
You nod, “Thank you. You may retire for the evening.”
She curtsies again, bowing her head, and then leaves, closing the door softly behind her. You sigh, turning back properly in your chair so your lady in waiting, the Duchess Natalia, can resume taking down your hair.
“Your Majesty?” she prompts, noting your sigh.
“It’s good to hear the king is back.”
“He will undoubtedly request an audience with you tomorrow,” she says. She is far too observant and already knows you too well.
She is also mercifully diplomatic, discreet, and a confidant who listens and doesn’t needle you or pry, so she continues letting out the braids, letting you muse on your own and only speak further if you want to.
You don’t want to.
The product of a long-arranged betrothal to bring peace between two countries, you had accepted your fate, resigned to be a good and dutiful queen. You were not to inherit a throne in your own country, had known that from birth with two older brothers, and you had grown up ready to embrace duty and opportunity. On arriving in the kingdom of Brooklyn as the future queen, your interactions with King Steven had been limited, but pleasant. They had been sufficient for you to be secure in your hope that it would be a good union, no need to worry about him being either cruel or moronic.
You had expected to be wedded and bedded. What you had not expected was to actually fall for him after the wedding ceremony and royal festivities when the two of you had taken the custom ten-day royal honeymoon to the palace in the north of his country by the lakes. The first night, of course, you’d consummated the union. The first few days you had been tentative in each other’s company. But with few staff, few interruptions, no royal obligations, only time really to yourselves – dining together, walking in the gardens, riding in the forest, in your bedchambers… you had grown close, and you had dangerously started to lose your heart to him.
Then you had been sent back to court while he had to depart directly to attend to matters in California in Stark’s kingdom. Two weeks had stretched to three, and the longer he was absent, the more you missed him, spurring you to grow more irritated at your naivety for developing more tender feelings for him than just that of the dutiful wife and queen you were supposed to and had intended to be.
No, here you sat, hoping your husband would summon you on the morrow, as you could not simply turn up in his royal presence, even though you were queen. Indeed, you could go anywhere else in this kingdom, had the company of many – some only because they had to or were courting your favor, but enough warm and developing relationships throughout the court – but not the one person you now yearned for.
You had been prepared all your life to marry a king and not to grow sentimentally attached to him as your husband. You felt like such a fool, pining when you had been perfectly fine and content in your life a mere six weeks ago.
There are voices outside your bedchamber and you and Natasha exchange perplexed looks. Just as she turns toward the door, it bursts open, the king entering without hesitation. He takes in the scene then quickly strides forward.
Natasha quickly drops into the customary curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she says.
You should have risen from your spot and greeted him as well, but your heart has jumped into your throat, and you are momentarily frozen.
The king is across the room and standing next to you by the time Natasha rises back to her full stature. He reaches out for the brush in her hand, and you catch the nearly imperceptible lift of the corners of her lips in a smile as she gives it to him.
“Duchess, you may go, I will take over.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
She makes to curtsy again before exiting, but he waves her off. “Go,” he commands, impatiently but somehow without any irritation, and she heeds his wishes and departs immediately.
Wordlessly, he steps right up behind you. You suppose you shouldn’t have been surprised he came to you. You belong to him, and he’s been denied by proximity for three weeks. He pulls all your hair into his left hand, then, holding it, works the brush through it with his right hand, starting at the bottom, moving up a little at a time. You marvel at how gently and methodically he works through your locks, almost reverently. Neither of you speak as he brushes your hair. You study him in the mirror. He’s concentrated fully on his task. Coming to a finish, he finally meets your gaze in the mirror, and the look in his eyes is intense. He sets the brush on the dressing table and sweeps your hair to one side, exposing your neck and he leans down to press a long, heated kiss to your delicate skin. You shiver as he follows this with shorter kisses trailing down your neck to the juncture where it meets shoulder, and it’s a sensitive point that draws a sigh from your lips.
He stands up straight and urges you to turn in your chair and face him. His fingers possessively trace along your jaw, tilting your chin up. “Did you miss your king?”
You couldn’t say you missed your husband and not your king, not yet, so instead of mincing words or spinning together something else true enough to say, you bring your hand up over his, and turn your head to press a kiss into the palm of his hand.
You try to move to kneel before him, but he says, “Oh no,” instead insisting on luring you up and pulling you into a kiss, fully flush against his body, and he leads you in no uncertain terms to the bed, shoving you down to sit at the foot of the mattress. He draws back and both of you are panting heavily. He stands between your legs, and he doesn’t take his eyes off your as he pulls his tunic up over his head and drops it to the floor. His breeches quickly follow, and his cock springs free, hard, and ready to take you. Already breathing heavily, you’re able to hide your reaction somewhat – which is a confusing mixture of both excitement and trepidation.
He urges you to scoot back, crawling up to join you,
Midway up the bed, he presses on your shoulder, “Lay back for me. “
He rucks up your nightgown around your hips, and crawls over you, using one hand to guide himself into your already slickening folds before caging you in on either side of your head and thrusting deep inside your cunt, filling you completely with the first thrust.
He adopts a frenzied pace to fuck you. It’s hard and fast. He’s no longer looking at you, his head dropped and buried into the crook of your neck. You can’t catch your breath. This isn’t what you wanted.
He holds your thigh up around his narrow waist, spearing into you again and again, his fingers digging into your flesh with a bruising force. You let out a quiet sob and he abruptly stills, raising his head to look at you, but you can’t look at him.
You’re not fast enough to brush away the tears though, and you know he sees them slowly rolling down your cheeks, tears you had fought to keep at bay.
He utters your name as if in pain and draws away completely, sitting back on his heels.
You turn away, rolling to your side, feeling so much more of you has been exposed than merely your naked body before him.
After a moment that stretches on between the two of you, his fingers tenderly caress your calf. He murmurs your name tentatively this time, a question.
You sense him shift on the bed, and suddenly you feel him behind you. You are wrapped in on yourself, but his hand brushes softly from your elbow to your shoulder. He lingers there for a moment, then you feel him shift behind you again, and he props himself up, so he can look down at you over your shoulder, and his hand moves purposefully now to your cheek to wipe away your tears. He plants a kiss on your shoulder. Then he brings his hand back to your shoulder and softly urges you to roll toward him so you’re on your back again and he can look directly at you again.
“That was too rough. You are a queen and deserve better treatment from a king.”
You turn your head away. “No, it’s not…” You bite your lip. Even the way he apologized was too detached and it made your heart ache.
“Not what?”
More hot tears spill silently over your cheeks. How can you explain? You hardly understood the tempest in your heart yourself.
But then he cups the side of your face, brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek, and when he draws your gaze back to him, there is something in his eyes so searching and raw that your heart longs for more of that version of him. “It wasn’t that you were too rough, it was that I don’t want to be merely used and discarded.” Your admission is out in a rush before you could second guess your words or their consequences.
He frowns. “Far from it.”
He moves closer and plants a kiss on your forehead, then rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, for a moment you both simply breath each other in being that close, one of his hands still cupping your cheek. At length, he speaks again. “I was desperate for you.”
“Desperate for me?”
He breaks away and laughs softly, but there’s a pang of bitterness to it. “Yes, desperate.”
He sits up, facing away from you.
You sit up next to him, smoothing your nightdress down, unsure how to proceed, you don’t want to lose him in the present. “Steven?” you try to coax him for more.
He sighs. “I’m afraid you will find me to be a fool.”
You wait for him to continue, needing to hear what he means.
“I was serenely independent and content before we wed, and inexplicably in a matter of days you somehow seem to have seeped into my bones, because from the first of your absence my mind turned so often of you. I found myself wondering what your opinion would be, wanting you to try some of the delicacies alongside me, wishing to see your smiles and your frowns throughout the course of the day. When I returned to my chambers each night, they were empty instead of peaceful and solitary. I’d grown accustomed to your voice, accustomed to your face, accustomed to your place at my side.”
He pauses again for a moment, and his expression pained. “But it was more than accustomed – I truly yearned for you and was angry to feel so much unlike myself when I’ve ruled for more than a decade without you, lived a life I thought was very much complete before you, devoted to the crown and happy in my reign, and now…”
The sentiment lingers in the space between you. Surely, he must hear your thundering of your heart in your chest. Finally, you say, “If you’re a fool, I’m a fool.”
His head snaps to look at you.
You take a deep breath and expose your soul to him, too. “I was born and raised for our royal duties, to marry and become a useful and reliable queen. There was no question of your deep commitment to rule this kingdom dutifully as its king. In the days before we married, it was evident we had the same expectations of our union, no sentimental notions. It made sense, and we were well-matched. At our wedding, we became king and queen. Away from our royal expectations, alone with each other, I think we both fell into becoming husband and wife. I’ve yearned for you these past weeks as well, and I couldn’t abide how impossible I thought my situation was, so sure and confident I would make for a good queen but discovering I wanted more. It was only when you went away that I felt the lack of something – an affection as I’d never had before, both for you and from you.”
He turns fully toward you and kisses you again, and instead of the demand and hunger, as he kisses now it’s driven only by the unrestrained yearning he confessed and that you admitted in return.
He pulls you into his lap, and you straddle him. He breaks the kiss to rid you of your nightdress entirely now instead of only pushing it out of the way as before, and then his lips immediately seek yours again. Your arms wrap around his neck, and his broad, warm hands are splayed across your back, pressing you flush to him, and you are just as eager to feel every inch of his skin seared against yours
He pauses his kiss, both of you utterly breathless now. You put a hand on his chest over his heart. He looks down and smiles at the gesture before looking up and beaming at you, but his small falters a fraction at the concentrated look on your face.
“What is it?”
You speak the notion that’s newly bloomed in your chest. “We are the only two people in the world with whom we can be totally ourselves, husband and wife, not the king and the queen, just a man and a woman.”
He nods fervently. “A new vow then between us: to both guard and embrace this as a true and unfettered love.”
You kiss him, but he only returns it briefly before pausing it again. “Do you swear it?” he asks.
You bob your head eagerly, seeking his lips, but he grips your chin, holding you back. “Words.”
“I swear it with everything I am.”
“As do I,” he affirms, then captures your lips again with his, moving you both again, this time lowering you worshipfully to the mattress. His mouth begins moving slowly down your neck, and you shiver, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair, the other clutching his muscled bicep. When he reaches the base of your neck, his tongue laves at the sweet spot he discovered there in your first precious days together, making you whimper. He then mouths at the spot and plants one more kiss there before moving lower. His lips skim lightly down your chest, kissing over where your heart is thrumming. He kisses the swell of your left breast, and then moves to mirror that action on the right. He brings his right hand up to palm one of your breasts as his tongue flicks across your nipple. He works to bring both to stiff peaks, licking and sucking the right while his hand plays with the left. Your back arches in pleasure at his ministrations.
He moves his mouth back to the other breast, and before you can think to miss his hand there, it’s confidently parting your thighs, seeking your now extremely wet folds.
“Steve.”
“That’s it, my love, let me make you feel good,” he says, and you whimper again. His fingers stroke your labia slowly. Your eyes close as he stokes your pleasure. He slips a finger into your core, pumping in and out. When he adds another finger, you can’t hold back the little noises that escape you. He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles, and those little noises morph into a moan. Steve moves up now to hover over you, watching your face as he works you up to your first climax that night. You would feel too exposed if he had studied you this way during your first days together, but your confessions tonight to each other leave you now feeling safe being so intimately on display. When you cry out, hips bucking, he continues to stroke, working you through the orgasm.
He removes his fingers, and you need the moment, but lament the emptiness. His eyes are still on your face, and when your breathing is close to normal, you open your eyes and look back at him. Then you glance lower to see he’s pumping his hard, thick member with the hand that was still glistening with your slick of arousal. His eyes are aflame with his need, and he moves in to kiss you again. You welcome it, parting your lips and sliding your tongue between his. He opens for you, and as your tongues tease and delve, you roll and hungrily push him back on the mattress.
Steve grabs your hips with both of his hands and moves your body to straddle him. In place just where he wants you, chest to chest, you drop down to your elbows, planted on either side of his head. As you continue to kiss, he presses his hand down to the base of your spine and brushes his cock temptingly against your entrance. You push your hips back against him, and his chest hums with approval.
“Please,” you plead.
He doesn’t make you ask twice, using his other hand to guide his length into your quim. He doesn’t rush this push into you, but it’s not slow. Once fully sheathed, he moves his arms to circle around your chest, holding you close to him as he sets a steady pace thrusting up into you. He swallows your moans of ecstasy. When it begins to overwhelm you, you have to break off the consuming kiss to gulp lungful’s of air. Seeing you desperate like this above him drives his voracity.
Still buried inside you, he rolls to bring you beneath him once more. You cling to his shoulders, and he continues to advance toward release for both of you. He shifts the angle of his hips, and he’s rewarded with a pure keen from you. He continues to hit the spongy spot up against your pubic bone. You sob, so close, and this time the tears are pure pleasure. He grasps at one of your hands, and your fingers twine together. A few more thrusts and your walls flutter around him and then he your orgasm hits. Your spasming channel is too much, and with a groan he spills inside you right after.
He collapses against you, and you welcome the weight of his body. You’re both quiet in your moment of satiation. Your free hand draws lazy patterns over his shoulder blade as your breathing returns to normal. You wonder if he’s going to drop off into sleep, but then he repositions slightly, and asks, “Are you comfortable?”
“Mhmm,” you respond. You’re comfortable physically and intimately in this moment with him.
He brings your joined hands to his lips, and he kisses the back of your hand, then tucks it close to his chest and begins conversing with you – about the mundane, the important, things from the past few weeks apart, and from your lives apart before. There’s more kissing, followed by more pleasure, pulling each other apart in turn, and no sleeping until long after midnight.
You groan when he wakes you at what seems to be daybreak. You close your eyes again swiftly, and open your mouth to protest, but he cups your jaw and his thumb brushes over your parted lips. “I know it’s early,” he murmurs, “but I want to have you once more while we’re alone and unbothered.”
And when he says it like that, with such tenderness and longing, you wouldn’t dream of denying it for either of you. You hope to grow accustomed to many more stolen mornings over your lifetime together now.
COMPANION/PREQUEL PIECE: The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are
READ THE NEXT PART: A SHIFT IN THE MORNING ROUTINE
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#aspen wrote something#aspen's holiday extravaganza#ahe 2022#royal au#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers smut#steve rogers royal au#steve rogers x female reader#steve x yn#steve x female reader#steve x you#royal reader#cedar trees au
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Eddie Munson Is My Babydaddy
Pairing: Eddie Munson x You
Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman are responsible for a Flour Sack Baby for a week. Shenanigans ensue.
Contains: Attachment issues, googly eyes, goofiness, family fun time, actual parental figures being So Done with these morons.
Words: 3k
"Jesus!"
The stack of papers Mrs. Baker had just dropped on your desk was so massive, a staple wouldn't have had a chance. They were contained inside a yellow folder. You opened it to reveal the ridiculous amount of worksheets that would soon need filling out, and looked to your left to find Eddie as wide-eyed as you were.
"I wonder how many trees died for this project's sins?" Eddie mused.
"Can it, Munson," the teacher said playfully. She was one of the good ones. You and Eddie had lucked out and ended up in the same health class together this semester, and today was Flour Sack Baby Day. Just before prom. Well played, Mrs. Baker.
After the last of the novel-length piles of paper were handed out, Mrs. Baker returned to the front of the room. "The packets are pretty self-explanatory. Do we need to go over the rules again?"
She was answered with a collective murmur of "no."
"Alright, come get your baby when I call you, then you can use the rest of today's class to start on the packets and figure out who's taking what shift. Birth certificates need to be filled out and signed before you leave here today!"
Three minutes later, the Munsons are proud parents of a flour sack baby. It's just a five-pound store-brand bag of flour with a "9/M" written on it in permanent marker. Your project has a number and a gender. Now it needs a name.
You open the packet and find the birth certificate. You fill out the parental information while Eddie stares down the bag of this week's responsibility. You can't wait to see how he handles it.
"Alright, pops, we need a name."
"Frodo Baggins," he says without hesitation.
"Frodo Baggins Munson? No way you were ever allowed to reproduce, I demand a paternity test."
"Fro-DOUGH BAG-gins. 'Cause flour makes dough. And it's in a bag."
You chuckle and fill in the rest of the flour baby's birth certificate without even bothering to argue. You both sign on your dotted lines, then you walk it to the front of the room to have Mrs. Baker approve it. She looks at the name, and then up at you quizzically.
"Sorry. His father's a terminal nerd. I pray it's not genetic." She laughs and signs the paper, and you return to your seat. Eddie has the flour sack in his lap.
"Alright, Baby Frodough, your birth has been officially recognized by The Man." You pat the top of the sack in Eddie's lap. "Now what?"
"I guess we divvy him up between classes?"
You decide to keep him for the morning classes, and Eddie would take him after lunch. You were usually together after school anyway, so that would be no problem.
"He needs something," Eddie says, staring at the flour sack he's now cradling like an actual baby. You're not sure if you want to laugh or kiss him. The bell rings.
"Like what?" you ask, shoving the packet into your backpack.
You can practically see the lightbulb go off over his head. "C'mon."
"Okay?" You grab your stuff, and Eddie's too, and try to keep up with the nerd darting out of the classroom with a sack of flour.
Three doors down, Eddie stands in the doorway to the art room. "Mr. Harris, do you have any googly eyes?"
"What?" you hear from inside when you finally catch up. You linger by Eddie's side in the doorway and see the art teacher eyeing Eddie suspiciously.
"Do you have any googly eyes?"
"Why?"
Eddie holds the sack of flour out and cries, "Our baby can't see how much we love him!"
You snort. Mr. Harris throws back his head and laughs. "Third drawer," he points to a cabinet, "knock yourselves out."
"Thanks!" Eddie grins, hugging Frodough close and heading toward the cabinet. You open it and dig through the drawer of leftover art supplies together, finally finding two eyes that were relatively the same size and a bottle of glue. Eddie places the flour baby on a table and bends over to glue his eyes on. "There we go. Hi, Frodough! I'm your dad!" He waves at the flour sack, then nudges you with his hip. "Introduce yourself!"
With a roll of your eyes, you give in, "Hi, Frodough. I'm your mom. I'm the normal one, obviously." Eddie's jaw drops in mock offense, and the warning bell rings.
"Shit, we gotta go." You pick up the flour baby and head for the door, both calling another "thanks!" to Mr. Harris on the way out.
"Bye, Frodough. I'll see you at lunch." Eddie lovingly touches the flour sack in your arms, mutters a "careful, that glue's not dry yet," then turns on his heel and walks in the other direction.
"…and goodbye to you too, dear! Have a lovely day! Bring home that bacon!" you call sarcastically to his back. He spins around to flash you a wicked grin before nearly running into a band geek and turning a corner. "Alright kid, guess it's just you and me," you mumble to the bag on the way to your next class.
At lunch, Eddie insists on holding the flour baby on his lap. He proudly introduces Frodough Baggins Munson to his Hellfire Uncles, who look at him as if he's grown tentacles. You hand off the flour sack and the folder at lunch, and much to your surprise… you kind of start to miss lugging that thing around during your afternoon classes.
After the final bell, you wait for Eddie as his locker. When you see them round the corner, you smile. "Hi, boys! I missed you!" Eddie grins back, seeing that you're ready to play with him, and leans down for a kiss. You hold Frodough as Eddie shoves books in his locker, and then head to the parking lot together.
"Should we have a car seat?"
"Shit. Should we?" You look at each other for a minute, then decide that you'll just wear a seatbelt and hold Frodough on your lap. You're surprised when Eddie actually drives the speed limit, but don't say anything. It's cute that he's taking this seriously.
When you get to your house, Eddie holds the flour baby at the kitchen table and works on the packet - the baby's whereabouts and activities need to be logged every hour - while you make snacks. The afternoon passes uneventfully as you work on other homework and pass the flour baby back and forth.
When you hear your mother's car door slam, you get a wicked idea. Leaning back in your chair at the kitchen table, you pull your shirt over the flour sack.
"Mom, we gotta talk," you grin when she walks in the door. She looks at the bulge under your shirt with wide eyes. Before she can ask for an explanation, you moan. "Oh god, it's coming. Eddie, it's coming!" He slides to his knees on the floor next to you without missing a beat.
"Push, babe! Push! You can do this!"
"AHHHH!" you groan as you push the flour sack from beneath your shirt into Eddie's waiting hands. He proudly holds it up to show your mom the googly eyes.
"It's a boy!" Eddie exclaims, face full of mock-surprise.
"Oh God, there's two of them," your mother rolls her eyes to the ceiling and tries to hide her smile. Eddie rests Frodough on your knee and remains on the floor by your side.
"How long is this gonna go on?" she asks.
"A week."
"Well, you'll probably save me a store run. One of my coworkers has a birthday on Friday, I think I might bake her a cake. Can I borrow some of your baby if I run out of flour?"
"Little ears!" you shriek, and go to put your hands on Frodough's ears. You hesitate. "Where are his ears?" you murmur to Eddie, who positions your hands where he imagines the flour baby's ears to be. "Little ears!" you say again, with your hands in the right place.
Your mother sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, still trying to pretend she doesn't find you hilarious.
"Can Eddie stay for the week? I'd hate for our baby to be from a broken home. Like me. See how weird and damaged I turned out?"
She places her bag in a chair, then leans against the counter and gives you both a calculating look. "Fine," she finally says. "He's here all the time anyway."
"Aww. You wanna hold him, granny?" you grin. Eddie plucks the flour baby from your knee, holding him out from his position on the floor so your mother can take him.
She glares. "Don't."
"Nana?"
"Stop."
"Maw-Maw?"
"Eddie, go home, you're both grounded."
You and Eddie both cackle, knowing he's not going anywhere. Finally, she takes pity on Eddie's shaking arms and picks up the five-pound bag he's been holding out to her through this entire exchange.
"This thing got a name?"
"His name is Frodough Baggins Munson. Like the Tolkien character. Emphasis on the DOUGH and the BAG," Eddie explains.
She looks into the googly eyes and says, "Sorry, kid. Your parents are total dorks."
Eddie is allowed to stay; on the condition that your bedroom door remains open, and that the flour sack sleeps between you. Neither of you has a problem with these terms.
Later that evening, you accompanied him home to get clothes and introduce Frodough to Wayne before he left for work.
"Wayne!" Eddie called when he stepped inside, needlessly, because Wayne was in the kitchen. "Meet your grandson!" He holds the flour sack toward his uncle. Wayne stares into the googly eyes for a minute, and like your mother, rolls his eyes.
"As soon as Wayne's eyes unstick, I need a picture of the Munson men!" you insist, holding up your camera. Eddie bounds over to Wayne, wrapping an arm around him and holding Frodough proudly between them while he grins for the camera.
"Wayne, you're not looking very happy about our little bundle of joy," you jest from behind the camera.
"Y'know," he drawls, "once upon a time, I thought you might be a good influence on the boy. Mellow him out a little. But I think it went the other way. Now there's two of ya."
"Have you been talking to my mom?" you ask, lifting your head above the camera's viewfinder. Wayne laughs, and you snap a quick picture.
The next day, you enlist your brother's help. For the reasonable cost of $5, he becomes your official family photographer for the week. Over the next several days, when you weren't in school, you embarked on a series of family outings. Very well-documented family outings. The three of you had the time of your lives.
You and Eddie took Frodough to the playground. There are photos of you three coming down the slide together, holding the flour sack on the monkey bars, and pushing him together in a baby swing. (Eddie somehow crammed most of his ass into the baby swing and took it for a test drive first, to make sure it was safe enough for little Frodough.) The three of you rode the coin-operated carousel in front of the grocery store. You went to the dollar store and faked a tropical vacation. You went to Lover's Lake and had a family picnic, checkered blanket and all. Frodough even got to share the Dungeon Master's chair with Eddie during a Hellfire Club meeting.
You'd never had this much fun with a school project before. Eddie didn't even complain about having to log every hour of activity. Taking care of that little sack of flour became like second-nature to you both.
And then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, your week with Frodough was over. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little sad about it. You suspected Eddie was feeling it too.
That last day was a somber one. At the end of the day, you carried your sack of flour back into Mrs. Baker's classroom. Most of the other student-parents hadn't bothered to give their flour babies any personality at all. Yours was the only one with googly eyes. You stacked your completed packet on top of the pile, removed the battered Dio shirt that had been pinned around him like a onesie, and placed him with the other naked flour babies on a table by the window. You each patted the flour sack fondly one last time. You took Eddie's hand, wanting to walk away and get this over with.
"What's gonna happen to them?" Eddie asked Mrs. Baker, who was transferring quiz scores to her gradebook.
"The flour?" She looks up to see him nod. "The cheer squad is using it for the bake sale next week." You feel like melting into the floor. Eddie holds your hand tighter, and you share a dismal look.
"What if we want our baby back?" Eddie asks, returning his attention to Mrs. Baker. Your heart soars.
"Kids, it's a sack of flour."
"But it's our sack of flour," you respond stubbornly.
"The girls are picking it up after practice today. Sorry, guys." She closes her gradebook and ducks down to tuck it into her book bag.
He strikes like lightning.
Before you even realize what's happening, Eddie has snatched Frodough and fled from the room with a wild cackle.
"What in the world?" Mrs. Baker looks to you, as if you planned this. You reach into your pocket and pull out a dollar - well above Frodough's retail value - slap it on her desk with a grin, and chase the Eddie-shaped blur through the halls of Hawkins High.
You meet up with him at the van. You both lean against the side, laughing and trying to catch your breath.
"I think you just won the Father of the Year Award," you wheeze.
"What did she say?"
"What in the world?" you mimic. "And then I slapped a dollar on her desk and ran." You both erupt into another fit of laughter.
"Let's get the hell outta here," he says, coming to open your door. You slide in, he hands you Frodough, and you make a hasty getaway.
You soon find yourselves at Lover's Lake. You sit in silence for a few minutes, but eventually, you have to break it.
"What are we gonna do, Eds?"
"What do you mean?"
"We can't carry a sack of flour around for the rest of our lives."
He sighs and leans back into his seat, turning his head to look at you. "Then I guess we give our boy a respectable send-off."
He gets out of the van, comes to your side, and opens the door. He reaches out for Frodough, but you hesitate. "What are you gonna do to him?"
He smiles, reaching for you instead, and pulls you both down. You hug Frodough to your chest, and Eddie hugs you to his.
"You were a great flour mom."
"And you were the best flour dad," you mumble into his chest.
"C'mon," he says with a kiss to your forehead. With an arm around your shoulders, he leads you to the place you had your family picnic. He reaches for Frodough, and you reluctantly give him the flour baby.
Eddie turns Frodough so he's looking at you both with his not-quite-the-same-size googly eyes. "Frodough Baggins Munson, you were a wonderful son. You brought your mom and I so much closer together, and we had a fuckin' blast with you." You elbow him gently. "Sorry. We had a blast with you. We couldn't let you become cupcakes, especially cupcakes that would financially benefit the jockstraps of Hawkins High, so we've brought you here, to a place we know you love. It's time for you to go, but know that we will never forget you. On account of those three rolls of film we're gonna send off to get developed as soon as we're done here. But rest easy, Frodough. We'll see you in another life. Anything to add, Mom?"
"Bye, Frodough. You were a good flour baby. We're gonna miss lugging you around." That's all you have in you.
Eddie unrolls the top of the flour sack. "Ready?" You nod. He spins in a circle, dusting your picnic spot with flour. And more flour. And even more flour. When Eddie finally shakes the last of the flour out of the bag, it looks like he's standing in a snowdrift.
"Uh… so I guess five pounds is a lot of flour." You look at each other and crack up.
"Somebody's gonna come out here before this blows away and call the CDC or something," you laugh, kicking up a cloud with the toe of your shoe.
"Guess we should probably get outta here then," he grins, pulling you into his flour circle. You hold each other in silence for a moment.
"Thanks for this," you say quietly, looking up at him. "I didn't really expect to get that attached."
"Me either," he responds. "But I had fun this week."
"Me too. I don't think I've ever had this much fun with anybody. Especially when groceries are involved."
Eddie snorts.
"How are we gonna look Mrs. Baker in the eye on Monday morning?" you ask, face beginning to burn already at the thought of your upcoming embarrassment.
"Maybe she'll give us extra credit for being the only parents who refused to abandon our flour baby?"
You laughed.
But she did.
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Missing Parts
This was a request but lost it so hopefully the requester sees this 😁
Cal Kestis x Bot Tinker Reader
Summary: sometimes the metal parts aren't that entertaining but adding a few things can make it better
Warning: none
Yn/3rd person pov
The music was loud so loud it could be heard from my station that was the same level as the prison "it's so fucking loud" I grumbled pulling out my ear plugs even those didn't work to block out the noise.
I heard beeping from behind me so I turned looking over my shoulder to the small droid on the table the guards brought him in a few hours ago damaging him the process "hey little guy" I murmured putting down my tools and slowly walking to him with my hands up.
"I'm not here to hurt you ok" I murmured and he beeped nervously as he slowly crept towards me to the edge of the table "I'm sorry about the guards their morons" I whispered picking up his broken pieces "dd please go get me some tools so I can patch up our friend here" I said.
My own little Droid flew out its station beeping happily as it flew between us and my desk passing me all the needed tools "come on little guy time to patch you up" I murmured and started humming to myself my tools drowning out the sound of the nearing prisoner.
Cal dropped down behind the unaware girl and his eyebrows rose in confusion as he watched her with his light saber raised he leaned to the side watching her work with his little companion "drop the tools" he spoke startling her causing her to fling the star screw driver at him but if landed a few feet in front of him.
"Shit you scared me" I squeaked moving my hands to my heart feeling it race "easy I'm just here for the droid" he murmured gesturing to bd-1 I glanced between the two "oh yeah here I was just repairing him and did a tiny upgrade on his antenna" I smiled gently picking up the small bot and bringing him to his owner.
The man frowned as he took him "why" he asked his voice low I nervously rubbed the back of my neck "it's kinda the only entertainment I get around here I fix or make new bots from the pieces I get" I looked around the room the small bots I've made peaking out their hiding spots.
"I'm cal" the man said sticking out his hand and I gently shook it "yn" I smiled and giggled as a few of my bots rolled to me and stopped by my feet "geez you've made a lot of them" he said kneeling down causing a few of them to hide behind me I let out a shakey breathe "I've made alot more but they get taken for gambling" I sighed making him look up at me with sorrow but I could see an idea popped into his head "how are you with shis".
-Time skip-
I felt sorry for the creatures we were killing yes its their nature but their death is only for fun, I shot one of those frog things making it crash into the wall, a group of my small bots tazered the group of scazz "what is this" sorc tormo boomed and I looked up at him confused intill a ship crashed into the area.
My smile widened as I recognized the ship "bloody greez" I murmured quickly gathering up my bots and following cal onto the ship "I will find you" sorc's voice faded as the door closed and the ship shook as it flew off "greez, cere" cal called as he rushed into the cock pit of the ship and I was slow to follow.
"I'm glad to see yo- yn" greez stopped mid sentence his eyes widening, "sup greez missed me" cal looked between the two of us surprised "glad to see you looking after my ship" I mused making him huff like a child "you own 50% of it not all of it" he muttered a few curse words turning his gaze back to flying.
"I'm cere now tell me what's this about you owning the ship" the lady spoke her eyes never leaving mine I laughed shaking my head "I won a lot of things from gambling that's also how I ended up in sorc's prison just on his good side" I paused "and that's how I met greez and he quickly lost all his belongings except the ship" I smiled.
Greez grumbled "wasn't my fault I was drunk" cere looked at him surprised "but why only 50%" cal asked crossing his arms his gaze on my I felt flustered under his gaze "I felt sorry for him" I laughed making cere laugh to "well I bet I can win it back" greez muttered putting the ship into hyper drive, cere lightly smacked the back of his head making him hiss
"so you can lose the rest of it I think not".
#star wars#star wars fluff#star wars x reader#star wars x reader fluff#jedi fallen order#jedi fallen order fluff#jedi fallen order x reader#jedi fallen order x reader fluff#cal kestis#cal kestis fluff#cal kestis x reader#cal kestis x reader fluff
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Levi and female!reader developing a relationship (Canon Universe)
Part 2/2
How your foolish idealism land you into the Survey Corps
After your guard duty he invited you to a tavern where he has gathered some of your comrades. Sat on a bench with other soldiers you listened to Floch musing about the situation of the island.
"Commander Hanji shows too much trust in these outsiders. She is far too lenient and for what? A technological advancement? As if it can erase a century of being nothing else but meat for Titans."
The others grumbled an agreement. Many in the army were not happy about the government's plan: working with the Marleyans was challenging at best and you were wary about Hizuru's involvement.
Mikasa hadn't said a thing to you regarding her official meeting with Kyomi's delegation, but the somber shadows in her eyes suggested that they weren't the allies you all hoped for. In the end, the island was alone against the world. Pretending otherwise would have been stupid.
Was it really possible at this point to really trust anyone who didn't suffer as the people on the island?
Floch invited you out with his group several other times.
You hung around with them, exchanging the same worries, and it was during one of your convos that you first met Levi Ackerman.
You all were in the mess hall, finishing the supper before the afternoon drill. It seemed that the new recruits would've been training with the infamous Captain of the Survey Corps.
Up to this point you and the others have never met him. Floch and some other soldiers that followed him religiously knew him pretty well.
"He really is that strong?" You asked, and you saw Floch's face produce a tiny grimance "What?" You tilted your head but his expression turned neutral once again.
"He is." He said, drinking from his mug "But not enough, if you want my opinion."
You frowned "What do you mean?"
"I mean that letting your personal feelings play a role in life or death's situations could potentially waste other's sacrifices," he looked at you "and doom everyone else as a result. That's his weakness: he cares far too much. "
"But he effectively guided the soldiers through difficult times. And since he joined the military the percentage of death outside the Walls has decreased a lot. It seems to me that he knows what he's doing and he takes objective decisions."
Floch pressed his lips together, abruptly turning his head to the side "And yet a single foolish decision may have changed everything. And what are we gonna do at this point?"
It seemed something personal, this veiled distate tinged with anger, but you didn't have the time to pry further that a scuffle broke out at your table.
Two boys of your cadet's regiment that participate to Floch's little assemble have started to push one another after shotting up of their seats. You have heard their mumbled conversation getting progressivly more heated while speaking with Floch. One was your friend but the other you couldn't stand him since the training day.
"Oi!" snapped Floch "Quit it, already!"
You stand up, gripping your friend's arm and putting a hand on the other's chest "Stop it, you two, you want a squad leader to put you on stable duty?"
"This moron has the gall to feel pity for fucking Marleyans POW when you Wall Rose people looked down on us when these fuckers brought down Shiganshina. You left us starving in the street!" He pointed at your friend "And now you talk about pity?!"
You lightly pushed him when he tried to come closer "Cut it, Otto. He isn't guilty of what happened then. We shouldn't..."
"Mind your buisness, Y/N! Always getting in the way, alway flaunting your good nature bullshit act as if we don't see how much of a poser you actually are."
You rolled your eyes "Wow, straight for the throat? Tell me something you haven't already said to me in training."
"Gladly." He hissed, ignoring Floch's call for order "You and Franz pretend to be, oh so good, but you know nothing of real suffer. You are nothing more than a Sheena bitch" he shoved you "that grew tired of fucking rich boys and wanted to see misery like it's the next exciting thing before sweeping in and proclaim to have the solution for everything. We are not your fucking playground for you to feel pleased with yourself!" He shoved you harder and Franz shouted and bolted forward just for him to be hitted by a punch.
However you were able to intercept Otto's arm when he retracted it and you twisted your body to slam him on the table, back first.
Otto spranged to his feet, ready to retaliate. Your fist closing, your arm pushed back ready to collide with his smaug face, but someone clasped your wrist thightly and before you knew, Otto was sent tumbling on the floor by a swift kick in the stomach.
You turned around, startled. A short man with a dark undercut, dressed with the old Survey Corp uniform, was looking at Otto weezing in pain. The mess hall was eerily quite.
He lifted his eyes, letting go of your wrist "Care to explain why you three were bawling like lunatics?"
Levi Ackerman. You have seen his portrait on newspapers. He was a legend in the military. And you realized that he must have seen your three make a fool out of yourselves and throwing fists like foolish children.
"I asked you a question."
You composed yourself "My apologize, sir. I didn’t mean to cause a ruckus.”
You looked down at Otto, rolling on the floor and groaning, holding his stomach as if it threatened to spill out. You winced, bringing your eyes again on the Captain’s.
“He… uh… he started to insult me and my comrade. I…”
Levi crossed his arms “And you body slam him onto the table because of it?” He turned to Floch “What did he said?”
Floch was less than thrilled to be dragged into the mess and he shot you a dirty look before answering “He said Wall Sheena’s brats shouldn’t talk about how hard life is since the Fall of Maria.”
It was a pretty sanitized version of the truth, but the core was legitimate. You winced again, fuck I’m such an idiot.
“So you hit him because he badmouthed you,” his voice was dry as a leaf “that’s a pitiful excuse, if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Captain, I…”
“You three are soldiers now, not tugs ready to rip each other apart just because your pride got hurt.” He lowered his stare to the groaning figure “Get up. I fully expect you all to be this lively in today’s training as well.”
He called for everyone in the room “Everyone out. Start with ten laps around the perimeter.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Regarding you three, I hope you don’t mind the smell of horse shit, bacause you will shovel it around for two weeks.” He turned his back to you after your response and you ran outside the mess hall with your cheeks burning in hot shame.
That was humiliating, but served you right for not thinking things through.
Your first meet with Levi went on like this: as a mumbling brutish idiot who kept on smelling manure on the clothes for the following weeks.
To be continued...
#levi ackerman#shingeki no kyojin#attack on titan#snk#aot#aot headcanons#aot imagines#aot spoilers#snk spoilers#levi x reader#levi x y/n#levi ackerman x female reader
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