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thatdeadaquarius · 6 months

Note

About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".

Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.

If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.

NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM

I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.

Comment if any missed, please.

☆

FULL STOP.

THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO

You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever

and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)

can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??

id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)

also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭

the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy

(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)

(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)

dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.

endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)

the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it

speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.

Alhaitham.

sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,

Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature

and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))

(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)

On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)

Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular

like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol

(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)

Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,

but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol

(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)

Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao

(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)

(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)

ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao

Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol

Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)

Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,

Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions

THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO

Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao

and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)

You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa

from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed

(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)

Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol

that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.

Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not

(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )

oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹

◇

OMFG

ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-

the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO

like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)

STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)

for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP

IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA

that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀

(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)

Also yes.

Cyno is a fanboy.

(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)

(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)

…

(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :0

ok but real talk…

wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!

i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)

but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o

ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily

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pucksandpower · 7 months

Note

Hey Natalia, hope you’re doing good ❤️ Please could I request enemies to lovers with Max. You’re constantly at each other’s throats in front of everyone and Christian has had enough of your shit and demands to see you in the office. But when you continue to fight, he’s like nah I don’t wanna be involved, sort your shit out together and leaves. And you end up fucking on his desk and after you’re suddenly super friendly around eachother. Thank you lovely! xxx

Whiplash

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: You and Max discover that there is a thin line between lust and hate

Warnings: 18+ content

You storm into Christian’s office, scowling as Max follows right behind you. He slams the door shut and you both take a seat across from Christian, refusing to even look at each other.

“I’m sure you both know why I called you in here,” Christian says sternly. “The tension between you two has gone too far. It’s affecting the team and we can’t have that.”

You scoff and cross your arms. “Why don’t you talk to him about it then? I’m not the problem here.”

Max scowls. “Oh please, don’t pretend like you’re so innocent. You’ve been nothing but hostile towards me since the start of the season.”

“Only because you did the same!” You retort. “I was nothing but nice when I first joined the team. You’re the one with the attitude problem.”

“Enough!” Christian shouts, silencing you both. “I don’t care who started it. I’m ending it. We’re in the middle of a championship fight and I need my drivers to work together, not against each other.”

You sink lower in your chair, still refusing to look at Max. The animosity radiates off of him in waves.

“Now you’re going to stay in here until you work this out,” Christian says firmly. “I don’t care if it takes all night. Fix this mess or both of your seats are on the line.”

He heads for the door and you spring up from your chair. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” Christian replies before shutting the door. You hear the lock click into place from the outside.

You jiggle the handle and pound on the door. “Let us out!”

No response.

He’s really done it, that bastard. Locked you in a room alone with your most hated rival.

You take a deep breath before turning around. Max sits there glaring at you, jaw clenched. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters.

“For once we agree on something,” you snap.

His glare hardens. “Don’t pretend you’re blameless. You’ve been nasty since you got here.”

You storm over to him. “Because you decided to hate me from day one! I tried to be nice but you were so damn hostile. What’s your problem with me anyway?”

Max stands up abruptly, getting in your face. “My problem is you waltzing in here like you own the place when I’m the number one driver.”

You shove him in the chest. “Get over yourself! I earned my spot here.”

He shoves you back. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Your blood boils as you stare him down. God he’s infuriating. And stubborn as hell. You doubt you’ll ever get him to admit any fault in this situation.

“Well I’m not going anywhere so I guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” you snap.

Max steps even closer, eyes blazing. Your noses nearly touch from how close he stands. “Is that so?” His voice comes out low, almost husky.

A shiver runs down your spine but you keep glaring at him. “Yeah, that’s so.”

You expect him to shoot back some nasty retort. Instead his eyes flick down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your heated gaze again.

Suddenly the energy shifts between you. The anger and tension remains but it transforms into something more primal. More dangerous.

Your breaths come heavier as electricity crackles in the nonexistent space left between you. Max’s pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as your own.

“I ...” Your voice comes out hoarse. “We should ...”

But neither of you make any move to step away. Without thinking your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips. Max tracks the movement with his intense stare.

“Fuck it,” he growls before crashing his mouth onto yours.

You gasp into the kiss and he takes advantage, deepening it. His hands grasp your hips roughly as he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.

You barely process what’s happening. One second you were at each other’s throats, the next his body is pressing urgently against yours.

A moan escapes you when his lips move to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin there and you thread your fingers into his hair.

“This is insane,” you pant out even as you tug him closer.

“I know,” Max breathes against your neck. His hands skim up your sides, pushing up your shirt. “I hate you.”

“I hate you more.” You crash your lips together again, tasting blood when you nip at him.

Max groans into your mouth as your tongues slide together. He hitches one of your legs around his hip, grinding against you.

You break the kiss to tip your head back, moaning at the feeling. Fuck, you despise this man, but right now you need him more than anything.

His hips keep up that delicious friction as he mouths at your collarbone. “I’m still going to beat you,” he rasps out.

You smirk, nails digging into his shoulders. “In your dreams.”

Max’s eyes darken at your taunt. Without warning, he grips your thighs and lifts you onto Christian’s desk. You gasp as he pushes between your legs, his growing arousal obvious.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before crushing his mouth to yours once more.

You moan into the frenzied kiss, tongues tangling as you tug at his hair. His hands slide up your thighs, fumbling with the button of your jeans to push them down around your ankles. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him against your heated core.

Even through the layers of clothing you can feel how hard he is. You rock your hips, desperate for more friction. Max groans and moves his lips to your neck, nipping down to your collarbone.

Your head tips back as his fingers dance up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “God, I hate you so much,” you moan.

“I know.” His voice comes out rough, filled with lust.

Impatient, you reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes rake over his muscular chest and arms. Unable to resist, you lean in and scrape your teeth over his nipple.

Max hisses in a breath, hands clenching on your hips. “Fuck ...”

You grin, laving your tongue over the sensitive nub as your fingers move to his belt buckle. With shaky hands you get it open and reach into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

He shudders against you. “Shit, Y/N ...”

You stroke him firmly, reveling in the moans and curses falling from his lips. His own hands move under your shirt, palming your breasts through your bra.

It’s not enough. You strip off your shirt and reach back to unclasp your bra. Max wastes no time dipping his head to capture one of your nipples between his lips.

“Oh god ...” you gasp, back arching into him. His teeth and tongue work over your sensitive peaks until you’re writhing beneath him.

The sound of voices outside the door makes you both freeze. Fuck. The race weekend is still going on around you. Anyone could walk by and hear what’s happening.

You meet Max’s heated gaze. “We should stop,” you pant out half-heartedly.

His eyes blaze with defiance and lust. “No fucking way.”

Before you can react he drops to his knees, grasping your hips to pull you towards the edge of the desk.

Max tugs strongly on your lacy underwear until it gives way at the seams, baring you to him. He pauses to appreciate the view, eyes roaming hungrily over your glistening folds.

“I’m still going to beat you tomorrow,” he rasps.

You tug on his hair impatiently. “Just get on with it before we get caught.”

With a wicked grin he dives in, mouth latching onto your throbbing clit. You cry out, quickly slapping a hand over your own mouth.

You fumble with his belt, desperate to feel him. Max groans as you wrap your hand around his length.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groans against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his tongue in response. The desk rocks dangerously beneath you but neither of you slow your ministrations.

You whimper his name, pleasure building steadily under his expert touch. The fingers of one hand twist in his hair while you keep your other hand moving up and down in measured strokes as you near the edge.

“Look at me,” Max commands raggedly. You open your eyes to meet his wild gaze. The connection between you crackles.

“Max ...” you gasp as your climax crashes over you. You slap a hand over your lips, muffling your cries.

As you float back down, Max withdraws his mouth. You keen at the loss but then he’s lining himself up at your entrance. Gripping your hip tightly, he pushes inside in one smooth motion.

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as you adjust around him. Max trembles with restraint, giving you a moment before he starts to move.

Then he sets a relentless pace, the desk slamming against the wall with each powerful snap of his hips. You wrap your legs around him, spurring him even deeper.

Max pounds into you relentlessly, wrenching desperate moans from your lips. You’re vaguely aware of picture frames and papers tumbling to the floor around you but the chaos only adds to the thrill.

You’re close, the pressure building deep inside. With a few more well-angled thrusts you topple over the edge, coming hard around him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches sharply off the desk.

“There you go, princess,” Max rasps. He continues driving into your spasming center until his rhythm turns choppy and erratic.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Max grits out. You clench around him, greedy for his release. His hips stutter and then he spills inside you with a guttural groan. The sensation pushes you over the edge again, your vision whiting out from the intensity.

Breathing raggedly, Max collapses on top of you, pinning you to the desk. You’re both slick with sweat and utterly spent, your heart rates slowly returning to normal. You run your fingers through his damp waves soothingly.

The room is silent save for your heavy breathing. As the haze of lust clears, the ramifications of what just happened settle over you.

You just slept with your sworn rival on your team principal’s desk.

After a long moment Max pulls out of you and steps back, tucking himself away. On shaky legs you slide off the desk, stumbling slightly as you find your feet, and rush to put on your clothes.

Max grabs his shirt off the floor and shrugs back into it. His hair is mussed wildly and his lips are kiss-swollen. You’re sure you look much the same.

You and Max spring apart at the sound of the lock clicking open. Christian strides back into his office, oblivious to the disheveled state that both of his drivers are in.

“Well, have you two worked out your differences?” He looks between you expectantly.

You smooth down your rumpled shirt and attempt to tuck your wild hair back into place. Your cheeks flame as you meet Christian’s gaze.

“I think we’ve come to an ... understanding,” Max says evenly, though you notice a hint of color in his cheeks as well.

Christian surveys his office, taking in the askew trophies and books scattered across the floor. You hold your breath, certain he’s going to put two and two together.

“It seems you had a disagreement about reorganizing my office during your chat,” Christian says wryly.

You nearly choke in surprise. Does he really not realize what just transpired on his desk? You chance a glance at Max and have to suppress a hysterical giggle at the disbelief on his face.

“I apologize for the mess, we got a bit ... heated,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the double meaning.

“Yes, clearly things escalated between you two.” Christian frowns at a photo of him and Dietrich Mateschitz now lying cracked on the floor. You resist the urge to shrink under his disappointed dad stare.

“However, the important thing is you’ve worked through this animosity once and for all, correct?” He looks between you expectantly.

You and Max nod in unison. “Water under the bridge,” Max assures him. You’re impressed by how steady he manages to keep his voice even as you can see the barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Excellent. I’ll inform the team that tensions are resolved and they can stop walking on eggshells around the both of you.” Christian claps his hands together, apparently satisfied. “Now get out of here and get ready for free practice.”

You and Max don’t need telling twice. As soon as the door shuts behind you, the laughter you’ve been holding in bubbles out.

“I can’t believe he actually bought that,” Max says between chuckles.

“We literally destroyed his office and he thinks we just had a minor spat,” you giggle, shaking your head incredulously.

Your laughter trails off as the reality of what happened sinks in. You just had crazy hot sex with Max Verstappen. Where do you go from here?

Before you can overthink it, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Meet me at the hotel tonight? We should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he murmurs suggestively.

You bite your lip but find yourself nodding. As complicated and ill-advised as this may be, you can’t find it in yourself to deny your attraction to Max now that you’ve given in to it.

“It’s a date,” you whisper back.

Max grins and steals another quick kiss before you part ways to get changed.

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sp0o0kylights · 11 months

Text

Indie horror filmmaker Eddie Munson, high off his first big (underground but notable) success, knows the movers and shakers of the film world have their eyes on him.

They're just waiting to see if he was a one hit wonder before they open all the doors he's been trying to kick down.

His next upcoming film is his chance, his shot at finally making it. Of being like Rob Zombie and the other creators he looks up to that masterfully blended metal and horror.

This is his golden ticket.

The project starts off smooth. His last success has greased the wheels, and things fall into place faster than ever before.

He's got the best idea for this insane haunted house story, a true "mazes in mazes" type of deal with a queer twist. A real look at how a place can haunt a person just as easily as a ghost can.

Everything's going swimmingly--until one of his leads drops out the day they're due to start shooting.

No call no show's, and later, Eddie will find out the guy got a last second call back to be a contestant on one of those Love Island bullshit romance gigs (and laugh his ass off when the main love interest takes one look at Billy Hargrove and goes on a five minute rant about ugly mullets on national television) but right now?

He's fucked.

He's called in every favor he has for this film. Maxed out every credit card he owns, tapped every contact, got on his hands and knees and begged his rising star journalist best bud to help him market it. (Which Nancy agreed too, for way less cash than she should have.)

Eddie can't get anyone on the phone, much less find a replacement actor and the amazing place they rented, that is so dark and wonderfully eerie, is booked out the rest of the year as an AirBnB.

If he doesn't film now, he loses it all.

Cue the other lead, unknown theater actor Steve Harrington, watching his hair pulling, tire kicking, 'cursing and hopping while holding a toe' mental breakdown and asks why Eddie himself doesn't act in it.

"Just go full Kevin Smith man. Act and direct." He says, with an easy grin.

Jeff, Eddie's tried and true videographer, trades glances with Gareth and Grant (Eddie's long used special effects and makeup team, who double for about twelve other jobs because they're also his best friends and they're all in this together, make or break.)

"We don't really have a lot of other options." Gareth hedges. "You're already using me and Grant as background characters."

Eddie, hands fluttering around his face as though trying to wave away this entire situation, squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained hiss.

"Fine, fine!" He announces with the air of a man running towards a fire. "Fuck it, this is our one shot and so help me I will be shooting it!"

Steve politely hides a laugh with a cough.

"Chuckle all you want big boy, I'm going to tragically romance you so hard people will forget both of our characters actually live." Eddie snarls.

Steve, the handsome bastard, just winks. "Looking forward to it."

Eddie blushes, but hides it with a surge of frantic energy, conveyed by lots of yelling and moving and getting the ball rolling.

Two days later, Steve would give the performance of a lifetime down on his knees, covered in a literal pound of fake gore, booty shorts and nothing else as he sobbed about how a lover could become a home. His hands clawed at Eddie's jeans before resting a tear stained face on a slim leg as he bent his body towards Eddie like it hurt to be away from him.

Eddie would later receive equal praise in his own acting during the scene, with the world and every reporter in it asking how he conveyed an otherworldly panic so beautifully throughout Steve's performance. What was he thinking, to evoke those expressions on his face?

The way his own pale hand, unmarred by blood and acting as a metaphor for the plot, would come to stroke Steve's cheeks.

Eventually he'd come up with a smooth polished answer that cheekily pleased his audience, but nothing would ever come close to the truth.

("Eddie I've known you since grade school." Jeff said that night, a scant few hours after they'd wrapped. "You can act man, but not like that."

Eddie made a wild "shut up" gesture, looking frantically over his shoulder before admitting; "You saw how close his face was to the prince of darkness!? I was seconds away from popping a boner next to his lips, in front of the 4K camera!”

Eddie bounced into Jeff’s face so he could hiss: “He fucking had his chin on my thigh, Jeff, and I am only a man. A mere mortal!"

"So we're gonna unpack all of that later." Jeff said finally, when he'd managed to get his mouth working and Eddie back out of his personal space. "But dude, we've talked about you calling your dick the prince of darkness."

Eddie flipped him off.)

One year later and critics named Corroded the best horror film of the year, praising the camera work, practical effects, and how there wasn't a soul alive who was surprised to hear Eddie and Steve were dating after their explosive on screen chemistry.

No one ever quite understood the prince of darkness jokes or why Steve mentioning it made Eddie blush, but that was a secret to find out later.

Today on WIP’s I have no intention of writing, indie horror movie AU!

#at some point this became a warmup for the warmup #and it feels very silly #LOL #steddie #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #horror movie AU #no upside down #eddie would have the STUPIDEST names for his dick #I will die on that hill #that is a man who has put googly eyes on his third leg #and then cried because they wouldn't come off #its why he loves steve bc steve would talk to it like a beloved pet #daddy misssess youuuu #corroded coffin as a unit hates them so much when they do this shit its the bane of their existance

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hbdttg · 1 year

Text

“Hold the elevator!”

The elevator doors are mere inches from closing, but Steve dutifully shoots a hand out to stop them. They slide back open, revealing a flustered-looking man about Steve’s age on the other side.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, decked out in a simple black pullover with a modest V-neck, snug black jeans, and all-black leather Chucks with a messenger bag slung across his chest. The messenger bag is, unsurprisingly, also black, but covered in a collection of tough-looking patches and pins in varying shades of—well, it’s mostly red, dark red, white, and some yellows, but the pops of color still stand out against his otherwise monochrome ensemble.

His dark, curly hair reaches a little past his shoulders and he’s got this frankly outdated fringe that, despite its very 80’s vibe, frames his face perfectly. His eyes are large and expressive, and he’s got this frantic energy about him that reminds Steve of a live wire. He’s nothing like the buttoned-up suits Steve usually shares his elevator rides with each morning, and it’s a refreshing change of pace.

The man gives Steve a thankful look before stepping into the elevator and leaning against the side wall. “Thanks,” he says, a little distractedly. He’s got a pair big of headphones on and Steve realizes he’s in the middle of a phone call when he adds, “No, not you, Gare, I was thanking the guy who held the elevator for me. Yeah, this building’s crazy. There’s a whole-ass sixtieth floor—guess I’m kind of a big deal now.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, reaching for the panel beside him.

As the doors close and the elevator starts to slowly ascend, Steve notices the man pressed the button for the floor above his. Both the fifty-second and fifty-third floor buttons are lit in a halo of green.

“You know I didn’t want to leave you guys,” the man continues, a bit more quietly now that he and Steve are sharing the same small space, “but shit, I couldn’t turn down the pay.” He scoffs. “Ugh, listen to me, just another cog in the capitalist machine. Man, if high school me could see me now. High school Eddie used to talk big about forced conformity and rising up against the man, and now here I am—”

Steve tries not to listen to the one-sided conversation going on beside him, but it’s difficult when a moment later, he hears his own name.

“—clocking in for my first day at fuckin’ Harrington Hargrove Hagan. The pretentious bastards can’t even shorten it to an acronym or something. God forbid they have to miss out on the sound of their own names.”

Steve manages to hold in the obnoxious snort that threatens to escape him. He’s starting to think he might like this guy—Eddie, his mind supplies helpfully—but Eddie’s next words have him freezing in place.

“And it’s nepo baby central. Yeah, pretty sure all the H kiddies are hotshot brokers with the company. All the biggest accounts—gee, I wonder why.”

Steve can feel the back of his neck burning hot with a mixture of annoyance and shame as Eddie cracks a caustic joke about silver spoons and trust funds.

“You’re kidding, one of them works at this branch? Damn, I guess I’ll just keep an eye out for the guy who most looks like he’s got a giant stick up his ass.”

This is quickly becoming the longest elevator ride of Steve’s life. He grits his teeth and stares fixedly at the floor display panel above the elevator doors, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

“Listen, I should go, but let’s grab a drink at the Hideout later. Cool, see you then. Bye.”

Forty-one. Forty-two.

Eddie removes his headphones and shoves them into his bag, angling slightly toward Steve. “Sorry about that, man.”

“You’re good,” Steve says shortly, not looking away from the changing numbers. They reach the forty-seventh floor, and all the while, he feels Eddie’s gaze on him.

It’s not like he’s openly staring, but there’s a certain weight to his furtive glances that completely counteracts his attempts at subtlety. It’s the type of gaze Steve’s familiar with, one that he’s been on the receiving end of since his sophomore year of high school when he hit a growth spurt and actually learned how to style his hair. Assessing. Appreciative. Interested.

And in any other situation, Steve would gladly engage. He’d turn on the charm, quirk the corner of his lip up in that way Robin always rolls her eyes at but reluctantly acknowledges as ‘passably effective’, and maybe even make up an excuse to sidle a bit closer.

But he’s not giving this guy his A-game.

Instead, Steve waits in stifling silence until the fifty-second floor is announced and the doors slide open. He steps forward to exit, but at the very last moment stops in the doorway.

He initially wasn’t going to say anything—though, a past version of himself would have definitely spat something biting and bitchy to Eddie about his snark, would have snootily told him to take his little assumptions and shove them where the sun don’t shine—but sooner or later Eddie’s going to realize he and Steve are colleagues, and he’s going to remember shit-talking him in an elevator on his first day of work, and it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

Steve’s just speeding up the timeline, pushing for the sooner rather than the later, when he decides to spin around and fully face Eddie.

“I think you pressed the wrong button,” he says, all sweet and helpful like he’s talking to Dustin’s mom over a sink full of soapy dishes. “Couldn’t help but overhear that you work at Harrington Hargrove Hagan. It’s on the fifty-second floor, not the fifty-third.” Then he takes a small step backward, moving out into the carpeted hallway.

“Oh.” Eddie scrambles for his phone, unlocking it and scrolling quickly until he finds something that has him straightening up and smiling gratefully at Steve. “I guess I remembered it wrong. Thank you.” He pushes away from the wall, takes a step forward to follow Steve out, but then stops dead in his tracks.

Steve gleefully notes the line of Eddie’s gaze, how it lingers at the breast pocket of his shirt, where, clipped to a retractable badge reel, his building keycard hangs. Eddie evidently hadn’t noticed it during the elevator ride up, but he’s certainly fixated on it now.

Perhaps on the abstract yet easily recognizable Harrington Hargrove Hagan logo in the top right corner.

But more likely, based on the positively mortified look growing on Eddie’s face, on the name clearly printed underneath Steve’s photo in bold, black lettering: STEVE HARRINGTON.

Slowly, Eddie drags his eyes back up to Steve’s face. He stares in silence, eyes bugging nearly out of his head, face turning a concerning shade of pink, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and his reaction is extreme enough that a small part of Steve is almost inclined to take pity on the guy and laugh it all off.

Unfortunately for Eddie, a bigger part of Steve thinks Eddie looks kind of cute all red-faced and embarrassed like this. So he glances down at himself thoughtfully before turning his attention back on Eddie. “Wow,” he says with exaggerated astonishment, “now that you mention it, I guess I do look like I’ve got a giant stick up my ass.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimes in warning. The doors begin to close, but Eddie just remains rooted in place with that same wide-eyed, horrified expression.

When it becomes clear he has no intentions of actually exiting the elevator, Steve chuckles and wiggles his fingers in a cheeky little wave. “Welcome to the team,” he says airily, before Eddie’s still-blushing face disappears behind the elevator doors.

/ Now with a Part 2!

#stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #modern office au #corporate steddie au #eddie's in IT #HHH is a commercial real estate firm #but steve's not a hotshot broker he's literally just a guy who makes copies all day or some shit #i personally just want to see all of eddie's baseless assumptions shattered as he gets to know steve #fic writing #hbd #actually i've never read a corporate steddie fic before so if anyone has any recs i'd love to hear them

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costelloschoice · 5 months

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General Mizu headcanons -Mizu x fem!reader -sfw and nsfw headcanons + my thoughts :], kinda long? but aye, more content -pls, reminder these are my takes, and I would love to hear your in the comments <3

-comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

Sfw:

took her awhile to open up fully to you. Like about everything- probably hide her fav food from you too

speaking of food, she probably is a terrible cook and would love if you can cook for her

I can imagine Mizu burning a pot of water

I tried to do my research and look into this, but I think Mizu is about 5'4

if you're shorter than her, she'll definitely have a confidence boost and feel she has to protect you always- she already does but...you're short and tiny...so she must

If you're taller, she's putty in your hands when you two are alone but she will still kick someone's ass for you

If you're not trained in the martial arts or any good with swords, she'll teach you

If Mizu is teaching you before you two are official, she'll be rougher and stricter with her teaching. She wants you to be the best and have a good chance to learn to protect yourself

Now if she is teaching you after you two are dating, she'll still be strict but definitely a bit more gentle

"Do it again...You almost had it, try again I know you can do this"

Nicknames for you? I feel she would mostly call you by your name, but she would also call you "my pearl" or "my dove"

Pls play with her hair plsplsplsplsplsplspls

She's a sucker for a massage due to her battles and training but only from you

but!!!!!

The first time you saw her without her male persona/ identity sent her in panic mode. You knew her as this strong, tough masculine man...but here you are, happening to stumble upon her wearing nothing and seeing her...lady parts

She already started to develop feelings for you by that time and so have you, but at the knowledge you think she's a boy. Gay stuff is already a 'no-no' to a lot of people, so would it be a 'no-no" for you??

of course not- doesn't matter if they're male or female, it's still Mizu at the end of the day

once you accept her, she truly feels seen for once

This woman will and always lay down her life for you.

She'd probably die then come back to life for you cause she loves you that much

I do feel she would be distant in the beginning. We all know how her last marriage went...She doesn't want to be hurt again

Once you show her you're in for the long run, she'll become lovable and clingy

LET HER BE FEMININE PLS PLS

She barely got to explore her feminine side with Mikio (rat bastard) cause of what happened

Dress her up and make her feel pretty <3

I have a feelign she can be really childish when comfortable with you- play wrestle with her to burn off some energy

She will want to duel with you, but never lets it go too far

If she ever pulls that same shit she did with Mikio, and she has the sword to your throat...I feel she will get flashbacks and get nervous how you'll react

but is soon pulled out of those memories when you laugh and say she wins and you kiss her <3

Nsfw

now the yummy part lol

IDC SHE'S A SWITCH

no one will change my mind, no one could ever think of changing my mind

In the Edo period of Japan, sex toys were there to use and have fun. Now, I actually looked it up and ruined my web history for this because of the shunga I saw

STRAP ON- either Mizu using it on you or you using it on her, either way it's a good time

She definitely can and will be rough and dominate. She's used to be taking control to getting what she wants

Doesn't mean she can't be soft and sensual, you are her love after all, and sex is something for both to enjoy. She would love to just be soft with you

She will spank that ass, idc

Now, like I said, I actually looked a lot of this stuff up...

Double sided dildo for the both of you to use. For her, it's almost embarrassing cause you are seeing her reactions but she also LOVES this since it's so intimate to her, so hold her hand while you two do it

Going off the last one, I feel she would be trying to cover her face or her mouth sometimes...don't let her

With that one episode, we know she's loud and her eyes roll back...it's canon...so hit her with that dumb dick and make her roll her eyes back

Tie her up...that's all

Her fingers are long and slender, good for fingering your cunt and rubbing your clit

Loves having you in her lap and fingering you late at night, especially if there are other people around. Gives her the chance to cover your mouth and whisper in your ear to tease you

"You like that?...You like the fact anyone could catch us right now, and they'd see my fingers fucking this pussy..?”

Dw you'll give her the same treatment

When you finger her, she's whiny, holding onto your other hand tightly

Praise her breast- whether you have bigger breast or not, still show love to her peaches

Kiss them, suck on them, whatever..love on them

I don't think she would ever consider sharing you with another person like ever

I can imagine her talking a big game, but your first time? She’s a wreck, she wants everything to be perfect

Yeah technically she's not a virgin but she doesn't want to mess anything up with you

Favorite position? I think she likes taking you in missionary but likes to be bent over when she subbing

After you give her sum backshots, pls give her the softest aftercare

She will be clingy after, so let her cling to you like a koala

In the end, Mizu is the best girlfriend boyfriend ever <3

#mizu x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bes mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x you #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #wlw #bes

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copper-16 · 3 months

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You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here.

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right?

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to.

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls.

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients.

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there.

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally.

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along.

It’s just, nobody had.

But perhaps that would change.

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back.

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling.

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town.

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where.

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike.

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded.

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action.

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear.

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet.

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet.

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet.

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like.

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in.

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table.

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to.

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man.

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head.

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot.

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken.

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk.

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do.

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name.

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally.

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion.

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room.

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence.

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them.

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble.

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive.

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act.

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune.

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble.

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her.

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs.

And god was Misa wrong.

This woman wasn’t attractive.

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop.

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk.

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid.

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now.

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high.

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work.

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English.

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded.

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin.

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman.

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out.

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation.

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious.

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name.

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes.

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s.

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily.

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on.

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers.

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers.

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different.

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her.

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully.

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair.

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt.

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently.

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen.

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless.

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi’s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away.

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care.

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer.

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly.

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy.

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason.

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low.

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back.

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette.

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise.

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back.

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body.

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid.

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman.

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow.

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought.

It was her choice.

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in.

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly.

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat.

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing.

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree.

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap.

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power.

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it.

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless.

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own.

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling.

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core.

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier.

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs.

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace.

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons.

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed.

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second.

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning.

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to.

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something.

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more.

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots.

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more.

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished.

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest.

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other.

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly.

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful.

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate.

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten.

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk.

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such.

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with.

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways.

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like.

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again.

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her.

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly.

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance.

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently.

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own.

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time.

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually.

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises.

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her.

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace.

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there.

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire.

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut.

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful.

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin.

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere.

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette.

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed.

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow.

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while.

#ingrid engen #mapi leon #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #misa rodriguez

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crushmeeren · 7 months

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Bokuto SFW/NSFW Headcannons

Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+; continue scrolling or block if you aren’t into this

Warnings; oral sex (blow jobs/pussy eating), car sex, riding, small amount of anal play (Bo teases your ass while he eats you out), mating press, kissing, praising

Note; I wasn’t originally planning on posting but I’ve had a rough night and I just love Bokuto 💕 This is my first time writing for Haikyuu so I hope I can do him justice. Please enjoy 🪽

Second Note; I think I’m gonna have to write one for Kirishima next, s-so many ideas about him 😮‍💨

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Koutarou who is the sweetest man alive, who you’re unconditionally in love with, but…is an airhead (i.e. he loses his phone all the time, forgets plans he’s already made, somehow drops his wallet down a hole at the top of a parking garage that’s 30 feet deep while planking—but miraculously finds it laying on a car below??) who you’ll always help find his shit either way—he needs AirTags

Koutarou who likes to wear lots of colors, whose favorite color is blue, who once got his face painted with a rainbow on it at the fair (he did look pretty, plus the vibrant colors represents how bright his personality is)

Koutarou who practically vibrates with excitement when he sees you watching his games from the stands, who smiles so wide his cheeks may split, who waves at you in the middle of a play (he ran into the net by accident, but he didn’t miss the next spike!!)

Koutarou who turns a sweet shade of pink when he sees you wear his jersey to his game, who picks you up in a sweaty, bear hug (squishing the air out of your lungs) after they’re finished, chatting excitedly in your ear as he carries you a few feet (he only sets you down when Hinata rescues you by reminding him they have to go change)

Koutarou who gets into certain self-deprecating moods sometimes, who lets you help him feel better, letting him talk it out, spending time with him, whispering words of support and encouragement as you poke the dimples on his cheeks (which gets him to smile and giggle almost every time)

Koutarou who likes listening to hip hop and surprisingly—hair metal, who loves singing in the car, who has an astonishingly good singing voice (you love watching him as he drives, he gets so into the music, wiggling in his seat—it’s like your own personal concert) and who loves Paramore—because you showed them to him

Koutarou who takes up half your bed when he sleeps, he’s so fucking tall—and thick🫣(but you love it and use him as your own personal blanket, but he does get really sweaty in the middle of the night so you have to roll away before you melt to death)

Koutarou who loves holding your hand, lacing his warm fingers through yours and tugging you in different directions, no matter where you are, who leans in so close to speak to you, you can see his eyelashes (it never fails to make warmth thickly pool in your belly, traveling up and making your cheeks burn—he always looks at you with stars in his eyes)

Koutarou who is literally always the life of the party—everyone loves the fucking ace, he radiates positive and happy energy—people are drawn to him like moths to a flame, they always want to talk to him and you’re proud of it (plus you don’t mind—besides he always comes home with you at the end of the night)

Koutarou who introduces you to Kuroo, who he has remained friends with after high school, Kuroo, the sly bastard who you’ve grown quite fond of & have become close friends with (instantly clicking over your combined efforts to tease Bo)

Koutarou who loves, loves taking hot showers with you, he likes to hug you under the warm spray, letting it relax both of you and talk about his day (sometimes you end up on your knees, but who can blame you?)

Koutarou who looks so unbelievably hot when his hair is down, no gel in sight as the soft strands frame his sweet face (you can’t help but stare at him until he asks if there’s something on his face, you tell him just how goddamn good he looks—which in turn makes him flush bright pink, dragging you into his lap to make out with him)

Koutarou who really loves when you call him by his given name —don’t get him wrong, but…he can’t help but feel a flash of heat shoot between his legs when he hears your sweet voice calling him Bo (you absolutely know what it does to him)

Koutarou who loves you so fucking much he feels his heart may burst at the seams, who is your best friend, who you can be completely yourself with, who supports you in everything you do, who you know, in your bones, is your one and only, who has been secretly planning on proposing to you for awhile now (FYI— you say yes, Bo definitely cries)

💕NSFW Below This-You Have Been Warned💕

Koutarou who is fucking buff, who is wayy taller than you, who is packed with muscle and his cock is, to say the least…thick, but just long enough to keep from hurting (but lets be real, the thickness is what counts)

Koutarou who gets rock hard so damn fast whenever you kiss his neck, gasping, whining, squirming underneath you when you sink your teeth into the muscle covering his pulse point, tilting his head and melting when you leave a couple hickies (he really tries to cover it up the next day, but Miya Atsumu teases him at practice anyways—he takes it in stride, only blushing a little bit)

Koutarou who only really curses during sex, unable to stop the nasty words from leaving his mouth (you think it’s the biggest turn on when he can’t help but whimper a soft f-fuck when he gets his dick inside you)

Koutarou who loves when you suck his cock, who likes when you’re laying on your back and he straddles your chest, controlling the pace as he thrusts into your mouth, who loves when you grip his ass and help him fuck your throat, who braces a hand against the wall, one hand in your hair as he watches his dick shine with your saliva as it repeatedly disappears between your warm, soft lips, who sees stars when he fucks along your tongue like a track made to make him blow

Koutarou who likes to suffocate between your thighs, always asking you to sit on his face, who grips your hips and forces you to rub your clit over his tongue, who covers his finger in your slick, teasing your asshole until you cum on his tongue, fisting his hair between your fingers (you choke on your moans, pleasure sticky and gooey gushing through your limbs)

Koutarou who was nervous at first when you suggested having sex in his car, but now he’s addicted, who can’t do anything but hold your waist, whimpering mhmm—fuck, that’s it pretty thing, as you hold onto his shoulders, using your feet & thighs to bounce on his cock in the drivers seat that’s been pushed all the way back

Koutarou whose toes curl, cock twitching as his eyes either stayed glued to where your pussy sucks him in or the way your tits bounce in his face (you love it just the same, tilting your head down to watch while you fuck yourself on his dick)

Koutarou who likes to let out high pitched whines & moans in your ear when he fucks you in missionary, who tells you your fucking pussy’s s’good, so tight, gonna make me cum so hard, while he has you folded into a mating press, shivering while he tries to hold back from cumming too quick (it feels like he’s in your throat, he makes you squirt in this position, thumb rubbing your clit roughly)

Koutarou who sits back on his calves, gripping your tits, fucking into you and curling his hips upwards, who makes you inhale sharply, gasping Bo! as you cum, fingers gripping his forearms, who says love when you cum on my cock baby girl, taking my dick so fucking well (you groan through clenched teeth as warm tingles take over your body)

Koutarou who almost cums instantly when you tell him he’s so good at fucking you, making you cum so many times during one round of sex (bro definitely has a bit of a praise kink)

Koutarou who whispers how much he loves you, face flushed when he starts to cum, whose heart thumps wildly in his chest as he groans about how good it feels to fill you up, pussy hugging him so tight (you tell him you love him just the same when he buries his sweaty face in your neck)

Koutarou who can never resist resting all his weight on you afterwards, snaking his arms around you and snuggling you tight as you both soak in the post orgasm glow, who helps you clean up and gets you water before you both take a nap or go to bed for the night

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thatfreshi · 9 months

Text

Out of Love (Astarion x reader)

Tw - death, vomiting, assisted suicide, sickness

Recommended Song: Past Hound - Adam Melchor

A couple of moons ago, you came down with a horrific illness. You and Astarion both don't know why, or how. You suspect foul play. After all, you didn't always make friends on your journeys. You wonder if perhaps you were poisoned, someone slipped something into a drink at the bar, changing the course of your life forever. The first month was like a bad flu, high fever, vomiting almost every day, barely able to eat. Over time though, your body started to ache. Astarion knew it was getting bad when you fell in the kitchen, breaking one of his favorite glasses. At first he was enraged, so angry that you could be so careless with one of his prized posessions. Then, he turned the corner and saw you lying on the floor, and quickly reverted his previous sentiments.

You don't remember exactly how long it's been. About two months in, Astarion told Shadowheart and Halsin to come over, realizing this was not going to go away on its own. They, tried, everything. Shadowheart went into a frenzy, reading up on everything she could, trying spells she had never cast before. Halsin got ahold of every other druid he knew in the city, to no avail. Everyone was clueless. The only thing they could determine is that this illness was man-made.

"So some bastard did try to finally get me, huh?"

You smile a little at your own comment, wincing at the pain it brings you. Astarion glares, not at you, but at the idea that someone would do this to you.

"Not funny my sweet."

It's now been four months. Astarion has tried his best to keep up with all the care you need, but it has turned both of your lives to shambles. Eventually he invited all your old companions over, to stay for a while, as they wanted to help with your illness. Despite the fact that he could barely stay awake at times, he would watch over you for hours on end, sometimes twenty at a time, until someone like Lae'zel dragged him out of your room to go lie down.

Gale has cooked every meal for all of you since you've gotten worse. He tries his best to make things from your childhood, things you'd find comforting. Shadowheart and Halsin continue to research your sickness, finding nothing. Wyll, Karlach, and Lae'zel take turns with Astarion, keeping watch over you, tending to your every need. At this point, you can barely get up most days, either from pain or lack of energy. Despite this, you can't ever sleep. If you do manage to drift off, it's for thirty minutes or so, and then you're jolted awake by some pain.

One day though, you're awoken by Astarion and Halsin arguing.

"I'm telling you Astarion, there is nothing I can do. Tav is going to pass. I don't know how soon, but I would start getting things in order."

He tries to hold back tears, to be good with his bedside manner, but it's almost impossible when Astarion keeps yelling back at him, desperate.

"Tav is not going to die. It's not time yet, you have to do something!"

"Please, Astarion. I don't want to fight with you. I know this is hard to hear, but it's over. There's nothing more we can do. There is no cure."

He tenses, ready to spit some nasty sentence about how he must be some great druid if he can't even heal people, but he refrains, wiping at his eyes. He storms off to his study, as all of your friends watch it unfold.

"I knew he was going to react like that."

Gale says sadly, looking down at the floor.

"I'll go take watch, give him some time."

And with that, Karlach comes into your room. You pretend to be asleep.

After a few agonizing hours, it's evening. Karlach brought you some soup that you couldn't bring yourself to even try eating. As the sun sets, Astarion is in the doorway, a grim look in his eyes. Without saying anything, Karlach takes her leave, giving him an understanding nod that you don't see.

When your lover makes his way to the bed, he lies down next to you, locking eyes with your tired gaze. It's as if you've been beaten twelve times over, the bags under your eyes have gotten so dark.

"Hello my sweet."

He smiles softly, trying to hide the sorrow, trying to shelter you from the news Halsin gave him.

"Hello my love."

You smile back, a little bit of pain and pressure in your face at the attempt.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

You snuggle into his side, trying not to move too much. He meets you halfway.

"I'm just... I'm so tired."

"I know darling... I know."

"No, Astarion. I'm tired of this."

"As am I. Shadowheart and Halsin are working steady as always, they'll find something."

You shake your head, a movement he can feel against his chest.

"No. No I... I heard."

You're exhausted, the air barely leaving your lungs.

"Heard what my dear?"

He's not good at playing dumb, the crack in his voice giving it all away. He hadn't thought about the argument, that you would've heard the two of them yelling about how you're going to die.

"What Halsin... what he told you."

And the tears well in his eyes instantly. He thought he wouldn't have to tell you, that he could keep this sacred thing going, that he could hold you without you needing to know it could all go away so quickly. You hear him sniffle, clearly trying to hold back.

"We don't know it's true Tav, they could still find something. They could be wrong."

His throat is coated in desperation, every word stabbing through your brain, trying to find something in you that believes him, even if he doesn't believe himself.

"They've been at it for months my love. I think it's over."

He grips you a little tighter, wishing for your existence, trying to hold the wind back from the embers of a long-gone flame. You both stay silent for a minute, as you try to work up the courage to ask him something. Something you're not even sure he'll say yes to, but you try.

"I want you to feed on me."

He scoffs, almost angrily.

"No my dear, not while you're sick. You need everything you can get.."

You shake a little, perhaps from the never-ending fever, or maybe from the fear, or the pain.

"No. I mean I want you to feed on me until I'm gone."

He tenses, shocked by your request.

"You... you what?"

You start to tear up, which only brings more pain.

"I'm just so tired Aster, and I've fought for so long. I want it to be over. I'm ready for it to be over, please."

You can barely make it through the end of your sentence without choking up.

"I can't do that, I- I won't!"

He sits up to look at you.

"You can't give up, not like this. There's still time, we still have time."

You reach out for his hand, and he obliges. As you squeeze you fingers into the back of his hand, you ask him one of the hardest questions he's ever had to answer.

"What, so you can watch me continue to suffer?"

He hadn't thought of it, that if this was horrific, how much worse could it get? How long was soon? Even Halsin didn't know how much time, not even an estimate, just... soon. He doubles down.

"No! So that, that maybe you can get better! That we can find the bastard that did this and make him cough up the cure. Maybe we can-"

"Astarion!"

You hadn't yelled for weeks, mustering up everything in your body to overpower his pleading voice. The tears continue to fall down his face, and he leans over, bringing your hand to his face.

"I can't Tav. I can't kill you. You're asking me to destroy the only thing I've ever loved, I-"

The thought of it makes him feel like throwing up, the thought of doing something like that to you. Forever ago he tried feasting on your blood in the middle of the night, long before you fell in love. And when you woke up to a strange man, a monster trying to steal your life force, you were kind. You let him drink from you, and every time he needed to after that.

"I love you so much, and I know you love me so much deeper than I could ever imagine, and I am asking you to do one last thing for me, out of love. I don't want to die to some unknown disease that's been ravaging my body, to pass in my sleep without so much as a thought. I want to die with you, right here, while everyone sleeps, where we can be alone one last time."

It's hard to argue with you, but Astarion feels as though ending your life is hardly an act of love. Mortal lives are already so fleeting, and yet you are asking him to cut it even shorter, to let you go. He meets your eyes again.

"Can I at least go slow?"

"As slow as you'd like."

You weakly smile, and he realizes there is no more considering your offer. This is what you want, and only he can give it to you.

"Okay."

He leans down to kiss you, slowly making his way to your throat, hesitating at first.

"I love you more than you'll ever know."

No pet names, no antics, no fluff. It's the first time you think he's ever said something so serious about how in love with you he is.

"I love you too Astarion."

And it's rare that you ever call each other by your first names. He shivers a little, saying you love 'Astarion' and not 'your sweet' or 'your love.' With your declarations out of the way, he pierces your skin with his fangs, slower than usual. Feeding from you is almost always a rabid act, desperate, feral. He's reserved, savoring every moment, knowing this is it, the last time he'll taste your blood, the last time he'll hold you in his arms, the last time you'll lie in this bed together. When the cold subsides and the numbness takes over, you're at peace for the first time in a long time. All you feel is the slow lapping of your blood, and his grasp tight around you. It feels like forever to you, but moments for him. As the flowing river becomes smaller, the tiniest drops coming out of your neck, he feels your body start to go limp, your skin start to get cold. He fulfills your request despite how much he's hurting, and he drinks until there is nothing left, until you're gone.

A wail echoes through the house, waking up your companions as they rush to see what's happened. As Shadowheart is the first to reach the doorway, she sees Astarion clutching your body, sobbing hysterically. She gets up next to him, clamoring on, asking what happened. He can barely speak, and the rest watch in silence.

"Tav- I- I had to- they wanted me to-"

Guilt-ridden, terrified of what he's done despite you pleading with him minutes ago, Astarion can only stutter the same phrases over and over again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I- I didn't want to- please."

"Hey, it's okay. Astarion. Astarion?"

Shadowheart notices the blood all over his mouth and the sheets, and the two perfect pin pricks in your neck, realizing what he's done. Astarion looks up for a moment, still clutching your dead body in his hands. And then, he points at Halsin.

"YOU. You fool, Tav heard us, they heard what you said. They gave up because of you. I had to kill them because of you..."

He starts to sob again, losing the rage, overcome with a sorrow that is inexplainable. Halsin only stays silent, knowing these are words of grief and not truth.

"Get out."

Halsin starts to step aside, believing the comment to be about him. When no one else moves, Astarion's eyes dart across the room at everyone, almost manic.

"Get out, all of you. GET OUT."

"Astarion, you can't-"

Gale is cut off by what is such a guttural scream, he can hardly believe it came from the vampire.

"LEAVE."

He comes back to your body, sobbing into flesh that no longer feels.

"Just please leave me alone..."

Shadowheart quietly gets off the bed, ushering everyone out of the room, softly closing the door behind her. Astarion can barely hear the murmurs outside the bedroom door, as he begins muttering to your lifeless corpse.

"I'm so sorry my dear... I'm so sorry. I should've done more, I should've told you to stay, I-"

He can't find the words, relentlessly blaming himself for your choice, wondering if there was any way to get around this. His mind wanders to that first month, when you dropped his wine glass, how he yelled from the other room, how he scolded you for being careless with his things, and he realizes how stupid life is. Nothing matters, a wine glass doesn't matter, you matter. And you were the only thing that ever mattered.

Hours go by, and dusk turns to dawn. Eventually, Gale comes back to the door, knocking softly.

"I'm coming in."

He's met with Astarion still, lying with your body, the blood crusted on the sheets, and his bloodshot eyes. It's as if he barely moved.

"I think... I think it's time."

While Gale wishes that Astarion could stay by your side forever, he knows your corpse will start to change soon, to become worse and worse as the hours pass by. It takes him forever to pry your lover from your side, eventually leading him to the living room, where he lies on the sofa, curled up, as Halsin begins to prepare your body.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #angst #astarion x tav

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wynnyfryd · 4 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 49

part 1 | part 48 | ao3

cw: angst, canon-typical violence

It's a totally normal Tuesday the day it all starts going to shit.

Eddie's got a show at The Hideout, and Wayne's got a rare night off, so Steve's at his boyfriend's place without him catching a basketball game with Wayne and Ernie. He did try to go to the show, to be fair; wanted to, but Eddie took one look at the way he was cradling the side of his head and winked at him to "sit this one out, big boy," so here he is: drinking beer with two old men and watching the most frustrating game he's seen all season.

"Oh, what the hell was that?" he begs the tiny screen, jumping out of his seat to pace a tight circle and rake his hands over his scalp hard enough to pluck a few strands. Beside him, Ernie shakes his head and mutters "goddamn disgraceful, that's what" and in the kitchen Wayne munches happily on a fresh plate of nachos, taps his bald head with a half-eaten chip and warns, "Quit tuggin' at your hair 'fore you wind up lookin' like this."

"Whatever, old man." Steve rolls his eyes, but he loosens his grip. Drags his hands down his face instead. "Don't act like you're not loving this."

Wayne laughs, a broad, smug smile that's pure Munson mischief. "Never claimed otherwise," he says, then he pops a cigarette in his mouth and tells them to get their wallets ready.

Bastard. His team's doing fine tonight. (And sure, the bet was only five dollars, but it's a point of pride, damn it.)

Steve turns his attention back to the game, where the ref is making yet another call that's so laughably bad Steve's not sure how he isn't getting decked for it. A stray elbow to the face, at least. Fucking something.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles; still pacing, arms crossed. "If they don't fire this idiot, I swear..."

He turns to Ernie for back up; remembers that Ernie's got a lapful of Misty the cat right now and quickly looks away. Creepy little thing still freaks Steve out (even if Ernie's stroking her fur like she's a harmless stress toy and not the razor-clawed, rat-chomping demon she really is.) He still can't look at her. Gets queasy just thinking about all the "presents" she's left him since he moved in.

Ernie catches the way his shoulders tense. "Didn't think you'd be afraid of a little pussy," he teases, scratching the cat behind her ears.

Misty gives a low rumble of approval.

Steve's stomach flips. "Whatever," he scoffs, looking anywhere but at them. "That thing's bad luck. No wonder we're losing."

He settles back into his seat, and the game goes on — and on, and on, until the score gets so embarrassing that Steve considers just getting up and yanking the TV plug out of the wall, or maybe storming out of the place in protest — and he's about to beg Wayne for mercy, ask him to change the station to anything else, when the front door opens so softly it sets off alarm bells in his head.

Steve whips around at the lack of sound. Knows immediately that something is wrong, because Eddie Munson doesn't do quiet. Eddie Munson comes home like fireworks going off: Crack! Whizz! Bang! He's always a burst of noise and energy; he's a fucking racket; Wayne's said so a million times — muttered it angrily when Eddie's music keeps him up, grumbled it fondly over breakfast while he tries to stop himself from falling asleep face-first in a plate of eggs.

Tonight Eddie comes home quiet as a thief. A mouse trying to evade the clutch of Misty's claws. His head's hung low as he shucks off his boots, his face obscured by frizzy hair.

Steve's across the room in a heartbeat.

"Baby?" he whispers, trying to peak behind the curtain. Eddie won't look at him, but his breathing sounds off; labored and whistling, and his hair is matted with something dark. "You okay?"

"Fine," Eddie croaks.

They both know it's a lie.

Steve lifts a hand to gently tip his chin up, but the moment his fingers graze skin Eddie winces and tugs away. "Okay," he says, pulling his hand back. "Okay, I'm sorry, just— can you look at me? Please?" He softens his voice, tries to coax Eddie out. You're safe here; you can trust me.

When Eddie finally looks up, Steve's heart lodges in his throat.

His face is ruined. Caked in dried blood, the skin below his left eye like an overripe eggplant: deep purple and threatening to split down the middle, to spill rotten juices all over the floor. There's a cut above his brow, another nick between his eyes, and— fuck.

His nose is broken.

Steve's gonna kill someone.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, deadly quiet. Whoever it is, they're not living to the morning. Steve's got a car and a nail bat and a boy with a broken nose, and he's going to kill whoever did this to him. "Eddie." He grips his biceps; shakes him a little. Insists. "Eddie, tell me who did this!"

Eddie hiccups a weak sob. Lips shiny with blood and tears, and Steve lets go; feels horrible for making it worse, for letting his anger get the best of him. He wraps Eddie up a gentle hug, cradles him against his chest and doesn't care if Ernie sees. He doesn't give a damn.

"Fucking—" Eddie grunts against Steve's shirt, his teeth chattering around the word. His throat clicks when he swallows. Sticky with blood and phlegm.

Hospital, Steve thinks. Blood loss; sepsis; shock.

Eddie gulps a ragged breath and tries again. "Fucking assholes," he gets out, "they took our- t-took our—" The words cut off with a pained whimper, and he breaks down and just cries. Cries and cries until the heaving subsides, until it lessens to muted trembling in Steve's arms. There's fresh blood on his shirt.

Eddie's blood is on his shirt.

He looks up, eyes wet and wide, and then Wayne's there; two strong, weathered hands firm on Eddie's shaking shoulders. "Is it bad?" he asks Steve. No nonsense; demanding answers. Decorated veteran.

Steve nods without a word.

"C'mon, kid," Wayne soothes. "Let's get you cleaned up."

—

part 50

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #my writing #my fic

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lucysarah-c · 15 days

Text

“It’s the only extra shirt I got here,” Levi’s voice returned to its natural stiffness as he handed her a V-neck long sleeve grey t-shirt.

“Thanks,” she said with a shy smile while accepting it. Levi nodded as he drank from his canteen. Once she was dressed, he offered her some water, which she accepted.

Exhaustion washed over them as they lay down. His eyes focused on the ceiling, his arms bent behind his head. She lay on her side, watching him.

“What?” Levi's fierce eyes looked askance at her as she admired his side profile.

Her humming negative reply was all he got at first, and then, “Was it… was it enough for you?”

He turned his head to his left. “I came, didn’t I?”

His bluntness was sometimes a blessing and sometimes not. She pouted at the idea. “But… we didn’t…”

“I said we wouldn’t,” Levi quickly picked up the meaning behind her lack of conviction and rushed to reply. “Besides, even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t have gotten my dick in. You’re in your fertile days.”

The knowledge of that affirmation eluded her completely, to the point that she didn’t even know what to inquire about first. She also felt extremely tired as she scooted closer to his frame. Levi took the hint and embraced her with one arm as she rested her head on his chest.

Humming again, this time affirmatively, she somehow understood his point. .. she believed.

“That’s scary…” she whispered after a few minutes, and his attention returned to her.

“What?”

“I don’t know if I’ll do it,” the words had no meaning to Levi, who was trying hard to follow her train of thought as she rambled. “I feel my legs tremble.”

Silence, as if she could hear the gears of his head working to comprehend. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“About jumping,” she said casually.

“Huh?” he insisted, slightly raising up to hover over his left arm to have a better look at her face.

They were both confused—him because he didn’t even fathom what she was talking about, and her because she couldn’t believe that someone as street-smart as Levi didn’t know about it.

“That…” she started her explanation, slightly ashamed like a kid afraid of answering a classroom question wrong. First confidently, then doubts sank in. “That you have to jump ten times after it, so… so you don’t get pregnant?”

Confusion, then realization. Levi’s frowning face as he tried to process what she had just said turned into his normal stoic one, and then he bit his bottom lip. His chest began to shake as he inhaled rapidly through his nose. He began to chuckle, and when his weight fell back onto the mat, he was loudly laughing.

Her disbelief at seeing him genuinely laugh for the first time was mixed with offense. ‘What’s so damn funny?’

Levi kept trying to control his reaction, stopping momentarily, but then he remembered it and laughed again. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he insisted on forming a sentence, but it was just too hilarious somehow.

“Let me get this straight,” he chuckled, “you thought that jumping ten times, not nine, it has to be ten, would magically prevent you from getting pregnant?”

At this point, she was heavily offended. “Well yes!” Her enthusiastic affirmation only made him more entertained.

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” his declaration between chuckles made her pout heavily at him, feeling the embarrassment quickly washing over her. “If it was that simple, brat, I wouldn’t have been born.”

His hand ran through his features as he calmed down, slightly shaking his head with closed eyes as he processed the idea. “God, how fucking bad are surface bastards that women have the energy to be jumping around after getting fucked?”

“Well, that was my question! Because I’m tired!” she complained loudly, feeling she finally had a fair point in this conversation.

To her surprise, Levi rolled to his side and grabbed her face. Her resistance due to her petty anger was pointless because he easily held her. Both hands on each side of her head, he then planted a kiss on her forehead.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” his whisper was fully covered in a thin layer of tenderness.

The pout on her features didn’t cease as his fingers ran down the side of her face; it felt insulting that he was looking at her with such appreciation after laughing in her face. His knuckles caressed her cheekbone so gently.

“Who told you that shit?”

“The girls in the barracks always talk about it,” she confessed, hoping that common knowledge among her companions would erase her ignorance.

“I’ll pull out and we’ll count days, that’s what we will do,” Levi explained.

Probably my favourite scene ever from Holy Ground.

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mischiefmaker615 · 2 months

Text

Go Away

Summary: Enemies to Lovers

Rating: R

Requested By: Daddy_Dracos_Slut (wattpad)

Note: Sorry for the long wait, real life stuff can be a pain sometimes but i hope the length of this one makes up for it *sweats*

i curse under my breath as the elevator seems extra rough going up the floors today. my hand clutches the rail while i keep my eyes closed, focusing my energy on my breathing rather than my stab wound that left a pretty nasty gash on my side. What happened?

SHIELD loves to throw me into fights they know they don’t have enough man power for. Why? “Your training should be enough to help you handle it just fine” okay dip shit- not against HYDRA! The mission was successful but of course they had to throw in a rookie for me to bring along as well. Result? Saving their ass cost me the next couple of days to heal.

“you should go to the medical bay-‘’

‘’it’s fine, I’ll just have Loki heal it.’’ the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

There was no way in hell i wanted to get near the psycho that attacked New York, but i hid my resentment well for SHIELD to buy my answer and not force me into a pointlessly long medical appointment.

Ironically as soon as i arrived back at the tower, the ‘not so bad’ wound in my side decided to give me a lot more pain than what i was originally feeling earlier. i probably just needed to clean it and it would be good as new.

Finally the elevator granted me the mercy of reaching my floor and i got out, my body crouched and hunched as i took a deep breath and looked around. No one around.. good. i didn’t like to show weakness, even though in this business you all get hurt, its nothing new, but my stubborn ass still tried to tough it out. Which is why as soon as i heard someone coming, i sucked in a breath and straightened up to my height, making sure my jacket was hiding my blood-stained shirt while Loki turned the corner, and we both shared the same expression. Of course, he probably didn’t enjoy my company just as much as i did for him, but he still took the opportunity to tease me whenever he could to get a reaction.

‘’why are you walking like that?’’ he asked, just a question, no concern in his voice.

‘’why do you look like that.’’ i say as i took a scrolling pace down the halls while he pressed the button to the elevator. i didn’t even look back at him but i felt his eyes on me.

‘’you’re hurt.’’

‘’and you care?’’

Loki’s eyes narrowed as i cast a glance over my shoulder at him in annoyance. ‘’I wish to make sure you are in proper health so you can get out of my way in a sufficient pace.’’

‘’oh, you do care.’’ i say in a sweet voice, placing a dramatic hand on my heart for effect which only revealed my bloody shirt where his eyes flicked down. i could have sworn his gaze changed to something else.. but for a split second until he looked like an asshole again.

‘’you’re bleeding.’’

Now, a sarcastic comment would have just proven he was right. Not that he would tell anyone, he probably didn’t care. this was all just probably going to be used to call me a weak mortal or whatever who doesn’t know how to properly fight. So the only unfortunate answer that spilled out of my mouth was ‘’spilled ketchup.’’ Smooth.

His eyes slowly traveled down to the ‘ketchup stain’ again before they flicked back up to mine. ‘’hmm.’’ He hummed, turning back to the open doors now for the elevator before his gaze could get a chance to make me nervous- wait what?

I make sure I walk as casually as possible, regardless of how painful it may be until I heard the elevator doors close before I hunch over again and draw in a sharp breath and resist the urge to clutch my side. Judgy bastard.. looking at me as if I’m scum in his way.. but what was that split second look? Never mind- just need to get the first aid kit and see exactly what I’m dealing with.

After it seems forever until I get into my room, I shut the door behind me and throw my jacket to the side, glad to have it off before I fold the end of my shirt up so it was over my chest, almost like a make-shift crop top. Damn.. it’s pretty deep, going to need minor stitches.. clean it up..

I slowly make my way now to the bathroom, my balance thrown off with the lack of blood and I could already tell before my eyes hit the mirror how pale I am. Nausea comes in mild waves as well but anger and frustration takes over when I open up the cabinet to find my first aid kit was missing. What the hell! I used it a couple days ago and I’m to OCD to not put things back..

I run a hand through my hair as I think about what I need to do. We have vodka at Tony’s bar downstairs, it’s the best thing we have currently to clean a wound. Another first aid kit in the kitchen, not to far from the bar cabinet. Not to bad- if people weren’t awake. I check my phone, it’s 8pm. Its usually quiet and people head to bed in 30 minutes do to the fact that we need proper rest in this field.

Grabbing a small towel, I run it over warm water and nearly cry out as I begin cleaning what I could, pain shooting through my body as I push through until I feel like I would faint. Setting the towel aside, I carefully.. carefully manage to change my shirt but put on an actual crop top so nothing had its change at touching my new body scar soon-to-be. Only 10 minutes pass.. 20 might be to long as I stay on the bed trying to control my breathing. I’m stupid, I know..

Once I check the time and hear more doors close in the hall, indicating people are hitting the hay, I go over to the door. No point in hiding the wound if everyone is in bed and the less clothes I ruin the better. However I nearly woke the whole house if I didn’t shove a hand over my mouth to find Loki waiting outside my door, leaning on the wall with a now smirk by my reaction.

‘’the hell are you doing here like a creeper?’’ I hiss at him but realize hiding the wound was to late as his eyes dropped and so did his expression as he straightened.

‘’norns Y/N- how did you manage that?’’ somehow there was no emotional indication in his voice, let alone his expression so I shrugged to see if he was actually concerned or about to laugh.

Figured there was no use hiding as I walk around him with a hand on the wall to support myself. ‘’comes with the job sometimes.’’

‘’and I’m sure they taught you how to properly take care of it- which is why it’s strange that you find yourself here’’ he says and walked along side me, making me raise a brow in wonder at why he was following.

‘’I can take care of myself, thanks.’’ Sarcasm was potent as I side eyed him, indicating I wished to be left alone before my body jolted at a wave of pain, making me practically double over with my nails digging into the wall.

‘’you need a doctor-‘’ Loki started, his hands quickly returning to their sides as I took a sharp breath and looked at him.

‘’I said I’ll be-‘’

‘’Y/N!’’ Barton greeted as he turned the corner, his smile fading as he glanced at Loki before he smiled again at me. ‘’you should have been here hours ago- I thought he would have healed you by now-‘’

‘’I don’t know what you are talking about-‘’ I panic, giving him a sharp look to shut up while Loki raised a brow.

‘’earlier when you said you’d just ask Loki to-‘’

‘’I’m handling it Clint, I’ll see you tomorrow though good as new’’ I fake smile, looking like I’m about to punch him as I feel Loki’s eyes on me in amusement.

‘’don’t you worry Agent Barton, she’s in good hands.’’ He said gently, lacing his fingers behind his back as Barton gives him a hard look.

‘’I’ll see you tomorrow then Y/N’’ he says, never really registering Loki whenever they did have to speak and brushed past him on his way to his own room. Most of the time that type of rude contact would have earned an almost-fight between Loki and Clint, but I suppose Loki found himself to busy smirking at me to really be concerned about it.

‘’so what is it exactly you wished to ask me Y/N?’’ Loki said sweetly, milking the opportunity to tease me as I roll my eyes and make my way down the halls towards the elevator before I could be any more embarrassed.

‘’go away.’’

Loki’s eyes narrowed as he watched me walk away from him but I busied myself with waiting for the damn doors to open. I heard nothing behind me, and I made the mistake to believe he had actually listened so to my annoyance, he slipped into the elevator with me before the doors could close.

‘’you were going to ask me to heal you?’’ he asked, no emotion indicated in his voice as I made myself busy by pressing the correct floor.

‘’I merely said that to have everyone off my back, apparently it seems to be doing quite the opposite.’’ I mutter and lean myself against the wall, drawing my eyes closed as I focused on my breathing.

Even with my eyes closed, I could tell Loki was staring at me. He’s annoying, but I’m sure he wouldn’t be half bad of a person if it wasn’t for the fact that he attacked new York. That’s probably where our enemy relationship stems from.. could I be nicer? Sure, he just.. draws something out of me.. he’s not a bad looking guy either, my emotions run different when I’m around him compared to the others. Tony teased me once and called it denial of something perhaps more I was feeling towards him, but there was no way I would have fallen for someone that attacked-

‘’if you would just let me heal you then perhaps your mind will stop being so loud.’’

My eyes snap open as Loki rubbed his temple as if he had a headache. If it wasn’t for the damn gash in my side, I probably would have killed him right then and there as I gawked at him.

‘’the fuck were you-‘’

‘’Y/N,’’ he starts, sincerity in his eyes and voice that somehow made me still. ‘’yes I’ve done those things in the past, I should hope that the time I have been spending here has given me a good chance to have changed and perhaps provided a door for a fresh start..’’ he starts, his eyes darting to the floor and slowly back at me as my muscles tensed by another wave and I hold my side, staying silent still. ‘’I do not blame you for your negative emotions towards me, and I am not asking for a second chance,.. all I’m asking is to just heal you.’’

My eyes slowly travel up to his after they had descended to the floor. God of lies, it was taught to tell if he was being honest or not. Though honestly, what did you have to lose? Nausea was already hitting your gut and light headedness was already reminding me how much blood I was losing. Yet the fact of the matter is,..

‘’..why do you care?’’

Loki almost genuinely smiled and I noticed his muscles were straining. Raising a brow, I noticed the elevator had not once moved since the doors had been closed. My eyes were next to narrow at him.

‘’what are you-‘’

‘’ask me Y/N.’’

I blink at him, knowing exactly what he wants me to ask but even now he’s being a stubborn ass??

He gave me a look at the name and I immediately just decided to focus on the pain instead to block him out. He was just as stubborn as I was, there was no point in asking him about the elevator, let alone avoiding the question. Taking a deep breath, I clutched my side and looked at him with all the dignity I was clinging on too.

‘’fine.. w-would you-‘’

My words cut short when my vision blacked out and all I remember is falling to the ground.

A cold hand pressed to my forehead, the temperature feeling cool where I practically lean into the touch before opening my eyes.

And then I want to die.

My cheeks heat up as Loki sat by my side as I lay in the bed located in our medical bay- aka Tony’s sometimes hangover room.

‘’how are you feeling?’’ he asked, looking a bit drained himself as I took in the scene.

I felt no pain.. something in my chest stirred, something that was hard to identify as I glanced down at myself. The gash in my side was completely gone- not so much as a scar behind! I look up at Loki wide eyed and he merely gave me a gentle look as I tried to speak but shut my mouth quick as redness heated in my cheeks.

How could I thank him? .. I never shared a kind word to him before, we had a sharp relationship.. and yet he still went out of his way to do this..

‘’Loki I- .. I.. I don’t know what to say..’’ I say pathetically as he chuckled.

‘’glad you are looking like your regular self again love.’’

Love.. that nickname.. why did it make me feel.. something? I glance at the clock, seeing how a couple hours have passed since I most likely had passed out. Leaving plenty of time to make sure it wasn’t a trick, a spell, or some type of cruel joke.. he really did help me..

‘’norns Y/N, I’m not that cruel to just leave you to bleed or taking your injured state into advantage for mischief’’ he sighed and leaned himself against the side rails of my bed, his body still sat close enough where I found feel him pressed against my side and I give him a tired, irritated look.

‘’before I thank you, I would request you stop reading my mind from now, call it an exchange for some future moments where I will take it easy on you.’’ I lightly joke, leaning back in the sat up bed as I hear him laugh.

‘’an exchange then? Alright, I will leave your thoughts be for some decent time from your kind heart,’’ he said with a tease. ‘’but is it hardly a fair exchange when our moments have been clearly even?’’

I sigh, knowing regardless of it all, he’ll always he so stubborn. ‘’and what is it that you want?’’

‘’a proper thank you.’’ he said calmly with a smile, it widening as I raise my brows.

I was half expecting a sarcastic, clever comment, but all he wanted was a true thank you? easy. ..or was it.. he clearly saved me from bleeding out to death, I’m pretty sure a ‘thanks’ wouldn’t be good enough as my fingers played with the fabric of my blanket mindlessly. ‘’..in what way?’’

‘’that is for you to figure out love.’’ He said gently, the mischief fading from his eyes as he seemed to stare at me like an honest man.

What? Buy him lunch as a thank you? a hug? A good word to Fury to help his probation at the tower? From his eyes, it seemed like he was just expecting words of affirmation, a from the heart type of thank you. yet why didn’t that feel like enough? My mind raced, everything seeming to be shouting things all at once as I tried to calm my emotions. What was this feeling? My mind paused as I felt him move and my eyes looked up to see him beginning to stand.

‘’it’s alright darling, you are tired and its been quite a long da-‘’

He stared at me with the same shocked expression as I had on my face as my hand grasped his before I even realized what he happening. He was still, his hand making no move to grasp back but remained still as I held on. My heart was pounding, and before I knew it, my arm was pulling him back and down.

His expression was now unreadable, as was mine I hope.. but something felt right about it- and I prayed I wasn’t reading the room wrong because despite his unreadable expression and closed off personality.. there was always something off between us, off where there was almost a secret enjoyment to our fights and banter.

So I took a gamble and pulled my hand towards me and his boots could be heard slowly moving towards me, allowing his hand to be guided before he came closer to my side on the bed. Our gazes never left each other, almost daring each other to look away but neither of us did.. not even as I pulled his hand a bit down to where he now slowly bent his height down and I lean forward. All movements were careful, my hand slowly releasing his as he moved it beside my arm and moved his other hand to do the same on the other side- caging me in.

As he leaned down, our eyes fell slightly closed, expressions relaxed as we seemed to melt in the moment. my lips slightly parted, our soft breaths could be heard as he leaned down and my hands moved to his shoulders to take over and guided him down finally so I could kiss him.

My lips brushed against his gentle, finding them soft and welcoming. He let me set the pace, my arms bringing him closer so I was able to deepen the kiss in which he eagerly returned with restrained gentleness. He gently moaned against my lips, as did I as we seemed to fit perfectly like a glove. My mind went still- relaxed, as if nothing mattered anymore, all quarrel forgotten and memories faded.

With my eyes closed, I felt his knee gently rest beside my thigh, followed by the other one as I felt his presence hover above my now. There was a strange temperature to him, not frost bite necessarily but a lack of human warmth. Well.. he’s not human anyway. His kiss became more needy as he ran his slender fingers through my hair and I couldn’t help but tangle mine in his. His locks are silky, not at all oily like one would think at the mere look of them. I hear a low growl as I tighten my grip on them, the mere vibration sending a wave of arousal through my body as I feel the need to close my legs.

‘’L-Loki.. I need.. we need..’’ I pant, staring up at him as he gazes back down at me, his pupils dilated with arousal himself as I feel his bulge just barely pressed up against me. If I were to raise my hips right now, I’m sure it would be like touching a boulder.

‘’I know darling, I know’’ he whispered, his thumb stroking my cheek as he lowered himself ever so slightly so our bodies were almost close to touching. ‘’are you sure you want this?..’’

My mind was in complete submission, my sharp tongue completely dulled to how I see him now. I wanted him.. this had all been denial.. but now I’m sure. I want him. my eyes gently looked up into his and my head nodded.

‘’use your words darling..’’ he held back a smirk but I knew it was there. Even now his personality didn’t change much, he probably enjoyed seeing me submit as my cheeks reddened as I look up at him.

‘’I want you’’ I whisper, eagerness being held back as my body began shaking in anticipation. That earned a small brush of his body lowering to feel mine, my hips rising for more of him but he raised up again.

‘’not yet darling, I don’t think you’re ready for me.’’ He sighed, almost as if saying ‘oh well’ and I look up at him in shock.

‘’no I’m ready-‘’

‘’you need a good amount of prepping first love, if you don’t want to be torn apart’’ that last part he whispered against my ear, I could feel his breath brush against my skin where it sent chills over my body.

‘’what are you-‘’

My words cut off when his hand gently began kneading my breast over my clothes, the action catching me off guard where a gasp left my lips and he took that opportunity to insert his tongue.

He was a skilled lover, one would assume so just by the mere sight of him but the thought was always shook off when I didn’t want to accept my true feelings.. any type of relationship causes me to panic, the mere doubt or thought of me messing up always just made me want to push all of it away.. but I suppose hate is what grew this connect. A sick, sad way of bonding but it got us here, it only took me getting stabbed for me to stop denying myself.

He was reading my mind again, the feeling of like a poke in my brain as he pulled up my shirt to place his mouth over my breast to ease my thoughts away. I think to much, and this was a damn good distraction as he moaned against me, my back arching as gasps left my lips. His other hand gave my other breast attention, pinching and kneading before his hand and mouth switched to give equal attention.

‘’you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you Y/N..’’ he murmured against me, his lips navigating up my chest to suck just above my collarbone that was a promise to leave a mark.

‘’i.. I thought you hated me..’’ I struggled out as my hands gripped his shoulders, a tingling under my fingertips as I glanced down to see the remaining shimmer before noticing his armor was off, leaving him just in his leather and cloth.

‘’I went along with your denied feelings but I sensed the truth way before I decided to enter that naughty little mind of yours’’ he smirked, his eyes flicking up to my own as his finger tips played with the button of my jeans.

My cheeks heated up as my nails practically dug into his shoulders out of shyness, almost as if I was curling up if I didn’t feel his knee between my legs to prevent them from closing. ‘’how long have you been doing that?’’ I whisper, shuddering as he began rubbing his knee gently against my sex, even with the blanket still between us.

‘’whenever I felt like it. primarily when you walk away after using your sharp tongue and yet your thoughts betrayed you, thinking the complete opposite of me. I was able to glance into your true feelings just enough before you pushed them down.. but I think we both know the truth’’ he whispered, his lips caressing my neck now while his hand gently moved my hair away to give him more access while his other unzipped my zipper.

‘’it was only a matter of time but I couldn’t wait forever.. I was going to perhaps wait longer on telling you how I truly felt about you but after you got injured..’’ his movements paused at the memory, raising his head slowly to meet my widened eyes. ‘’I thought I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell you if I lost you..’’

Of gods.. norns I think I love him..

A small smile spread across his lips as I look away from him. ‘’stop that..’’

‘’as you wish darling, I’m sure things are clear now nevertheless’’ he chuckled, attacking my neck again while my head was turned, earning a squeak to leave my lips when I felt him begin to nip and his fingers slowly dipped passed my panties.

My lips part as my eyes flutter close, making no moves to stop him as his finger tips ghost over my sex ever so slightly to take my breath away. I feel his tongue against my neck and his teeth now and again before his lips begin to suck and mark. Just before I could even think to rise my hips to find more friction, his finger tips begin playing with my clit, causing me to shudder and the knot of pleasure to begin forming within me.

‘’so sensitive.. so responsive.. how long has it been since one has touched you properly..’’ he whispered, not asking a question and I probably wouldn’t have been able to answer it anyway.

He began rubbing circles, a slow pace that began picking up when I began rising my hips, practically trying to shamelessly hump his hand if his other didn’t grip my hip to hold me down. a silent gasp left my mouth as I raised my head back and my back began to arch. His thumb took over on my clit so his two fingers could tease my entrance, dipping ever so slightly in and pulling out when my hips strained to rise.

‘’patience darling, be a good girl and take what I give you’’ he practically growled against my ear before he began to nibble on my lobe.

Goosebumps rose on my arms and I began to squirm until he slowly inserted his two fingers, causing me to moan his name slowly and shamelessly. I didn’t even care where we were or who could walk in but I was sure somehow Loki would have used magic to somehow provide us with a bit of privacy. I could feel his rock-hard bulge against the inside of my thigh, rubbing himself against it to match his rhythm while his fingers thrust into me In a faster pace.

‘’gods Loki…’’ I moan, feeling my orgasm get closer and closer and my eyebrows furrowed with my eyes fluttering closed. I was so close..

‘’cum for me darling.. ‘’ he whispered, his pace quickening on my clit as he pushed his fingers into me to the knuckles, causing me to tip over the edge as I reached my orgasm.

‘’LOKI!!’’ I practically scream as I moan and hold onto him, my body fluttering and clenching down on his fingers in a vise grip that has him practically moaning while he presses his lips to mine once more.

His movements slowed down ever so slightly, helping me ride it out as I was a panting mess, my body shaking and my eyes drunk like before he slowly pulls his hand out of my pants, his mouth licking my essence with no shame and a smirk where my cheeks heat up again.

‘’shy not darling, you taste absolutely wonderful.’’ He purred and adjusts himself as he backs away down my body while a hand slowly removed the blanket.

I slowly sit up as I catch my breath, just seeing the mischief in his eyes as his hands grip my pant legs and I give him a smile.

‘’in fact, I think I should help myself to a proper taste..’’

#loki odinson #loki x reader smut #loki god of mischief #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki #loki smut #loki fluff #lokifluff

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justporo · 5 months

Note

#56. Angry kisses

Oh yes - a good one! It became a little longer than I thought, oh oh. But I got into it while writing, so (just like Tav got into... stuff abfebgepi) Enjoy! I saw @leighsartworks216 do this kiss prompt thing btw and thought it might be a nice idea to slowly get back in the saddle after the holidays.

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) | Wordcount: 1,2k | Warnings: light smut, biting MASTERLIST | AO3 | KISS PROMPTS

Lovebites

Astarion could really get you all worked up. That could be a good thing. Or it could be the cause for you to fully lose your marbles.

Before you had met him, you’d barely lost your temper. But something in the way you and Astarion and you connected allowed him to get under your skin like nobody else could have ever done. This meant he could usually quickly figure out what was wrong with you – or you with him for that matter. But gods be damned, someone that held your heart so closely in his delicate fingers sometimes only needed to squeeze it a little to bring your blood to a boil.

Your house was a mess all over. Neither of you were used to being domestic and quite frankly it was a never-ending effort to keep it all tidy.

You knew it had been your fault as well that everywhere was currently cluttered and chaotic but something in the way Astarion had brushed you off dismissively when you had pointed that out had annoyed you. Your fuse had been terribly short that day and you knew you should have let it slide but pettiness won.

You had randomly grabbed some of Astarion’s stuff and in a fit had hurled it at him while yelling at him. The rogue had dodged it easily which had made you even more angry.

What followed had been a screaming match. Up until you were standing right in front of him, your nose almost touching his as you stared at him, brows furrowed, pulse hammering. And the bastard had the audacity to let his gaze slip from your eyes to your lips.

Immediately you were made aware of how close you were to him, how heated your body felt because of the anger. You swallowed hard – as if standing so close to him and staring into his stupidly perfect face wasn’t enough already.

Astarion’s eyebrow twitched, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk, realising the effect he had on you – godsdamned bloody bastard. His red eyes sparkled – posing a challenge.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful when you’re this mad at me”, he said haughtily while staring down at you. His lips stayed parted, tongue wandering over the edge of his teeth slightly, over one of his fangs. “And so delicious.”

The heat you’d felt in your chest immediately wandered down between your legs.

In a last ditch effort, you tried to conjure up anger again and pushed him away.

“Don’t make me bite you, you idiot,” you huffed. But the push had been weak and had merely caused Astarion to take a single small step back before he was right back in your face again.

“That would be a change for once, wouldn’t it? I’d like to see you try,” the vampire murmured back and leaned in dangerously close – until his lips were almost touching yours. And then he stopped. Your pulse was galloping and your body betrayed you even more when lust throbbed between your legs as you looked into your lovers eyes that promised you he’d find a way to let you work through all this pent up energy – and then some.

The teasing infuriated you even more.

With a frustrated groan you grabbed Astarion by his collar and pulled him to you forcefully to close the maddening gap between your bodies. His arms immediately wrapped around you.

The power with which you had pulled him to you had been surprising even to the rogue who struggled now to keep you both in balance. You stumbled back a few steps until you crashed into the nearest wall.

Meanwhile, your tongue had slipped into his mouth and was trying to gain dominance while you needed to press your body as closely against him as possible. The vampire moaned into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with his hips while placing both his hands next to your head on the wall. One of your hands was still clawing at his collar while the other had sneaked around his neck and was pulling his head further to yours.

Now that he had you up against a wall, you felt you were losing the upper hand. Not that you didn’t like the position you were currently in, but you were still mad at him – at least you thought you were.

You slid one leg around Astarion’s slender hips, and he immediately rewarded you by shifting them to allow for some delicious friction for the both of you. Both of you couldn’t help a moan wandering between your locked lips while you felt how badly you were both affected by this.

Simultaneously, you wanted to ride him into the ground until you both were unable of coherent thoughts while also wishing to be devoured whole by the vampire on top of you.

Neither of you had broken the kiss that had become sloppy while you writhed against your lover’s body. One of his hands had wandered down, over the leg wrapped around your waist, pulling it even higher and causing you to yelp into his mouth. He was squeezing your backside and by that making you rub against his growing arousal.

You were ready to just forgive and forget whatever had led you to this position in the first place if it only meant you could let Astarion unravel you – slowly or violently, you didn’t even care as heat consumed your whole body.

But then you felt how the corner of his mouth curled upwards and you saw the triumphant glint in his eyes while he ground his hips into yours once more, drawing a breathless sound from you unwillingly while his tongue licked up over your teeth.

That made some of your earlier anger rise up again. Acting on a whim, you grabbed the vampire’s face and deepened the kiss once more for a few moments, overwhelming the vampire. And then you caught his bottom lip firmly between your teeth and with a growl pulled while your hands clawed in his hair – hard.

Astarion whimpered slightly and pulled back reflexively, taking a step back, releasing you.

You were a bit stumped by your own action and stood there flushed and breathless, lust racing through you and hoped you hadn’t gone too far.

But the vampire was already grinning while rubbing his fingers over his bottom lip you’d bitten into.

“You naughty little minx,” he whispered while his gaze promised you he’d get you back for that.

“I told you, I would bite you,” you replied, emboldened by the way Astarion prowled closer again and you felt the tension between you had heightened even more.

“Yes. Yes, you did, you feisty thing,” the vampire said in a deep tone, looking at you from under his brows now. “Too bad for you though that that only spurs me on, my love.”

He moved to close the gap between you once more, but you decided to push your luck once more. With quick movements you jumped up into his arms, hoping he’d catch you.

And he did, despite almost losing balance.

Astarion looked up at you while softly shaking his head at you and your insolent behaviour.

“If that is so – take me to somewhere more comfortable and I promise I will bite you again”, you murmured and rolled your hips in his arms, emphasizing your point.

Astarion simply grinned up at you wolfishly, baring his fangs. And then he did as you had asked.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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sserafin · 1 month

Text

Instant lover- Manipulator S. Gojo

H×h!au,no need to watch h×h to read this

Warnings: Nsfw, mdni. Fem!reader, porn links,mafia family head Gojo, reader gets called pet,servant,princess,doll,etc.unprotected sex,oral,p in v. Manipulation?

Word count: 958 Not proofread

Being a member of Phantom Troupe, the most powerful thieves you can say, your group's target of the day was to steal the wealth of the Gojo family and kill the head of the family,Gojo Satoru, the popular manipulator with the technique "Instant lover"

"nen"-something like cursed energy you can say.

"Instant lover"- nen technique of Baise from h×h. The person can make anyone their pet servant and make them do anything for 180 mins.

"Ahh, 'ts too much, I'll do whatever you say, please...tell me what t' do"

"Shh, just answer my questions doll"

How can someone make you feel this way by just using a nen technique on you?

"what else did you all plan to do?"

"To- to kill you"

"Aw, such an honest little slut. I really didn't expect to see such a cutie in the Phantom Troupe"

You felt like you were seeing hearts everywhere. Butterflies in your stomach from his every touch. His one hand on your neck and two fingers of his other hand inside your cunt, as he asked you everything about the troupe.

"And they sent you to take care of me? Too bad they ran away leaving you alone"

Moving his fingers in and out of your cunt at a fast pace as he brought his face close to your neck, peppering kisses from your neck to down to your chest.

He looked up to you with a grin on his face,slowing down the pace of his fingers. "How can I just let this pretty prey that got caught by me, just go like that?"

"I-I'll do anything you say,sir, tell me what to do"

You can't believe that you, a member of Phantom Troops,who has defeated uncountable people, stole the most expensive merchandise from different countries, is currently under the spell of a manipulator, turned into a little pet who'll do anything for him.

"Let me give you the best 180 mins of your life before we go and kill those bastards who left you alone, yes?"

He slowly moved down,moving his hand from your neck to caress your waist. Your cheeks flushed, even though you tried to fight off his manipulation with how much strength you had left, you knew you wouldn't hold on for long and will end up being his little pet servant for next 3 hours.God knows what this man will end up doing with you while you're out of your mind.

"So wet f' me,my little slut" he mumbled sweet words while his tongue licked your sweet cunt, slowly entering.

Yup, you lost it there.His sweet voice ringing in your ear and his tongue exploring your cunt. You were laying on your back, jerking your hips against his face as his tongue rubbed against your clit, overwhelming you with pleasure.

"shiiit, just like that pretty, moan f' me jussst like that"

"C-Can't hold it toru,d,deeper need you s' bad"

"You can hold it right? I know you can hold it just a little longer sweetheart" shit, those words worked like magic to you. "Don't cum till I saw so, understood darling?"

"Ahh, ahh shiit, i-i got it, fuck"

"your sweet little whines are like music to my ears my pretty slut. Just wait a min."

You were nearly about to come, but he got up, both of his hands were holding your hips.He pulled you closer to grind on his clothes bulge while he was taking off his shirt and then his trousers.

"take it like a good slut mhm? You'll make your master proud by taking it all, right sweetheart?"

His cock was coated with leaking pre cum, slowly entering your cunt. Halfway in there, he entered his full length without any warnings.His hips slapped your ass making a loud bang.

"Fuck, fuck, slow down ahh, fuck 'toru" It wasn't long since he started pounding into you at a full pace, your moans and little sounds filling the room. Everytime he thrusted his full length in, you felt chills all over your body. The effect of his manipulation turning you into a complete mess.

"Satoru, f-fuck, I'll be forever with you and do anything you w-want"

"Such a sweet submissive pet you are. Would you go with me to kill your gang members? Would you like to stay as my little princess? Sweet little slut belonging to Mr. Gojo Satoru?"

"Y-yes, fuck it ah, just like that, just there" You couldn't hear anything other than the loud slapping of his cock echoing around the room and his sweet lustful voice,which you were too cock drunk to understand at this moment.

It's been 10 mins since he's been monstrously pounding into you at full pace. He held your arched back and laid back, making you ride him.

"ride it sweetheart. Make me feel good mhm"

His words spread chills in your body once again, your mind forcing you to bounce but your legs weren't helping you out.

He sensed this and grabbed your ass, moving you up and down his on cock. You felt him twitch inside you,now he was the one who was a moaning mess.

"Fuck, fuck, just like that baby, ride me like that doll, yess you're doing 't right my princess. Ahh fuck...look at that sweet pussy taking me in so good"

His sweet praises made it even harder to hold on.You felt overwhelmed with pleasure as he rubbed your clit with his fingers. You finally came, your breath becoming heavy and your walls closing in. Before your intense wave of pleasure was over, his cock twitched inside you one more time before he came, filling you up, your and his juices mixing and dripping,pooling on his hips.

You both laid there on his bed for three more mins before he held you in his hands and got up to go to his bathroom. He got both himself and you in the warm water in the tub arranged by his servants.

"let's just relax and get you cleaned up a little....before we go to round 2?" He grins, bringing his face close to yours and giving a gentle kiss. "We still have 2 hours and 30 mins left till my manipulation gets off sweetheart"

What happened that day 👀

• Fingering you while questioning you about the troop

• Thinking back, you can't believe that he moans more than you

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk men #gojo x reader #jjk smut #ssera writes #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jjk gojo smut #gojo × reader #jjk men smut #mafia gojo

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sailor-aviator · 7 months

Text

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of execution, Scout has a plan

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Hey guys! Friendly reminder that I have two writing challenges going at the moment! My Christmas Challenge and my Playlist Challenge are both still taking entries! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator! If You're feeling kind, please consider donating to my ko-fi!

Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

Whispers echoed the streets as you made your way back towards the saloon, and you could feel the stares from the last remaining spectators from the crowd earlier. Your eyes scanned the different faces, desperate to find someone you knew. Someone who could help. You spotted Birdie leading Bunny back into the saloon, a look of concern on the teacher’s face as she placed a steadying hand on the back of the saloon girl.

You made a beeline towards the saloon, almost running into a couple of people in the process, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered in that moment was freeing Jake, and if you couldn’t find the Daggers, then Bunny and Birdie would surely have an idea. Pushing through the saloon doors, your eyes immediately landed on the bar where the two girls sat, Birdie stroking a hand up and down Bunny’s back in a soothing gesture. You marched to where they stood, and Birdie looked over at you when you were just a few feet away.

“Scout,” she breathed, tears kissing her lash line as she stared at you. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

“Where are they?” You asked her, mouth pressed into a firm line to keep from falling apart completely. It wouldn’t serve you to sit around and mope about the situation. You had to take action, and you knew that the boys were already working on a plan to free Jake. “What happened?”

Birdie looked at you hesitantly, hand still on Bunny’s back. “I don’t know. They took off in the middle of everything. I think Jake used himself as a diversion or something, I’m not sure. Those men came in here and started saying such awful things to Bunny, and then Bob overheard, and, and everything just happened so fast, Scout. It was chaos.”

You nodded, letting out a frustrated breath.

“It’s my fault,” Bunny whispered, picking up her head from where she hung it over her arms. She looked at you with lost, far away eyes, and the sight sent a stab through your heart. “I’m sorry, Scout. This is all my fault.”

“Bunny, no,” Birdie chided, but the other girl shook her head.

“No,” she hiccuped. “I should have never come here. If I hadn’t left New Orleans, none of this would be happening.”

“It’s not your fault,” you muttered. “None of this is your fault. This was a setup from the start, and it was all due to that bastard Isaac.”

“Isaac?” Birdie asked you, eyes still weary. “Who is that?”

“He’s a real sonofabitch,” Bunny murmured, gaze still focused on you. “He comes in here from time to time. He’s got a really bad energy about him.”

“He set this whole thing up,” you scowled. “The remarks, the fight, the arrest. It was all his doing. I’m sure of it.”

“Surely you can tell Sherrif Kazansky about it,” Birdie smiled, hope beginning to shine in her eyes. “You can tell him, and he’ll have to let Jake go!”

“It’s not that simple, Birdie,” you sighed, causing the other girl’s smile to fall. “Marshal Simpson has been itching to get his hands on the Daggers since he got here. It’s the whole reason he came to Maverick in the first place, actually. He’s not going to let Jake go unless I give him a good reason. No, I need to find the other boys and figure out what their plan is to get him out. I can help with that.”

“They’ll probably be lying low until tonight,” Bunny murmured, looking up to lock eyes with you, face set in her usual stoicism. “You’re best bet is to go by Maverick and Penny’s after sunset. They’ll be there.”

You nodded at her, turning to walk away when Birdie caught your arm, forcing you to look back.

“What are you going to do in the meantime, Scout?” She asked, a worried frown on her lips.

“I’m going to go see my brother.”

“Surely there must be something you can do, Benji,” you pleaded, pacing around your brother’s office. He eyed you from where he sat, leaned back in his chair as he regarded you. He watched you pace across the carpet, and you were sure you looked a sight at this point. The ends of your skirts were muddy from running around earlier that morning, and you knew your hair had come out of your neatly tied bun, as you could feel the loose strands kissing your neck.

“Scout,” Benjamin sighed. “Take a seat.”

You shook your head vigorously, casting him a look of displeasure. “There’s no time to sit, Benji. Time is something we don’t have, and I’m wasting it just standing around waiting!”

“Scout-”

“Who knows how long they’ll keep him alive for? You have to represent him in his trial. I’m not asking, Benji. I’m begging you, please do-”

“Scout,” he snapped, leaning forward and pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. Benji always did that when he was preparing to deliver bad news, and you stopped your pacing, heart dropping. He looked back up at you, and you pursed your lips. His eyes were sad, like he knew his next words might break you. “Jake isn’t getting a trial.”

“What do you mean?” You demanded, facing him fully now. Your brow was pinched, mind refusing to make sense of what he was telling you.

“Just that,” he sighed. “Jake isn’t getting a trial. There will be no jury. There will be no judge. His death warrant has already been signed.”

You shook your head, fighting back tears as rage overtook you.

“They can’t do that,” you reasoned, moving forward, placing your hands on his desk as you leaned into him. “There has to be a trial.”

“There won’t be,” Benjamin frowned. “Marshal Simpson was sent here to get rid of the Daggers. Even if there was a trial, it would be a show one at best. Unless someone has a plan to break him out, then Jake stays in jail. There’s nothing else I can do.”

“I thought law and order meant something in this world,” you muttered, feeling the tears sting your eyes once again as you stood up and turned.

“It does, Scout,” Benjamin said gently. “But law and order mean different things to different agendas.”

You glanced back at him, and you once again noted the sadness that his eyes held.

“Go home, Scout,” he sighed. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

The sun had just slipped below the horizon when you stepped out from your hiding spot behind Hondo’s store. Most of the people were milling about in front of the saloon or the brothel, but a few drunken stragglers stumbled down the street, laughing and cheering as they made their way. You stuck to the shadows, taking care not to be seen by anyone as your eyes stayed glued to the door of the jail. It was only a few moments before you saw Beau Simpson step foot out the door, shrugging his jacket on as he made his way down to the saloon. His lips were pursed into a frown as he sauntered over towards the saloon. You waited with bated breath as he slipped past some of the drunken patrons, only letting it loose when he stepped through the swinging doors.

You kept your head down as you hurried down the street, doing your best to hide your face in the shadows. Light streamed out from the windows of the jail, illuminating your face as you stepped up to the door. The door creaked on its hinges as you pushed it open, Sheriff Kazansky looking over at you from where he sat in one of the chairs, feet propped up on the desk in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking you over. There was a hint of wonder and mischief in his eyes, a slow smirk coming to rest on his face.

“You shouldn’t be here, darlin’,” he drawled, placing his feet on the floor. “This ain’t no place for a lady such as yourself.”

“Where is he?” You asked him, stepping into the room and quickly closing the door behind you.

“Scout?”

You peered behind the sherif and into the shadows at the familiar voice. You saw a figure shift in one of the cells, and you began to rush towards it. Tom stopped you, standing quickly to block your path and placing his hands on your shoulders. You looked at him, brow furrowed, but all you saw was worry and curiosity swirling in his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re ready to see him like this?” He asked you quietly, lips pressing into a thin line as he continued to study you. You squared your shoulders back, lifting your chin defiantly.

“Please,” you murmured, feeling your bottom lip tremble slightly as you pleaded with the older man. “Please let me see him.”

Tom stared at you for a moment longer before glancing at the door.

“You have five minutes, Scout.”

You smiled at him gratefully, turning and making your way back towards the shadows that housed the cells.

Jake was on the floor, leaned up against the far wall facing the bars of the cell. His clothes were ruffled and his hair was mussed, lips pulled into a thin line and eyes were contemplative. When he saw you, he scrambled to his feet, the chains surrounding his wrists and ankles jingling with every movement.

You felt the tears come back with a vengeance as the dam you had built to keep from breaking down all day began to overflow. A sob racked through you, the tears now flowing freely as you all but threw yourself against the cold metal bars. Jake caught you as best he could, the two of you slowly easing down onto your knees. You cried into his arms, feeling your copious amounts of tears staining his shirt as he stroked your hair.

“Please don’t cry, Scout,” he soothed, pressing firm kisses to the top of your head. “Everything is okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you sobbed. “It’s not, so don’t tell me that it is.”

“These things happen, honey girl,” he sighed, holding you tighter, seemingly afraid to let you go. You reveled in how his strong arms felt around you, making you feel like your whole world wasn’t ending in that moment. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

You pulled back to look at him, tears still running down your face, but having slowed to a trickle at this point. “It was Isaac, Jake. It was all a setup. I saw him in the crowd this morning. He planned the whole thing.”

“I know.”

You balked, brow furrowing as you looked at him.

“What do you mean?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. Jake sighed again, resting his forehead against one of the bars.

“I saw him too.”

“We have to do something, Jake! We have to tell them that this was-” You cried, turning to move away, but Jake grabbed your hand to stop you. You turned back to him, noticing for the first time that his eyes were shining with tears of his own. Your heart dropped at the sight, and you allowed him to pull you back down, his hands cradling your face as he looked at you.

“There’s no time, pretty girl,” he murmured. “There’s just no time left.”

“Don’t say that,” you whispered, tears starting anew.

“Scout, these past few months have been the happiest of my life. I never thought I’d meet a spitfire like you, let alone get someone like you to love me. I have loved every minute spent with you. I love the way you scrunch your nose when you’re mad. I love when you yell at me when I’m being an idiot. I love when you smile at me when you think I’m not lookin’. I love how you feel in my arms and how completely happy you make me feel.”

“Why does this sound like you’re saying goodbye?” You asked him, a sob shaking your entire body. “You’re not dying on me. If you die, I die, you understand me?”

Jake smiled at you sadly, moving his hands down to dig through his pocket. He raised his shackled hands back up, this time holding onto a golden chain. A small, round pendant hung at the bottom, golden bands intricately woven with small diamond embedded into it.

“I know that it’s not the emerald,” he started, “but it’s all I could afford with the money I had leftover from working at the ranch.”

You stared at the necklace, a thousand different thoughts running through your head. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you had ever seen, made even more so by the honest man who offered it to you. More tears streamed down your cheeks, and you shook your head.

“I don’t want it,” you murmured.

Jakes face dropped, eyes questioning as he looked at you.

“Jake Seresin,” you said firmly, fixing him with your best scowl. “You promised to make an honest woman out of me, and I’ll be damned if I let you worm your way out of keeping that promise, do you hear me?”

Jake let out a startled chuckle, dropping his head to rest on his forearms before looking back up at you with a bemused expression.

“Honey girl, what on earth am I supposed to do with this necklace now?”

“You can give it to me when you get out of here,” you sniffed, eyes tracing over the lines on his face. “You can give it to me, and then you and I are going to grow old together.”

Jake said nothing, all humor leaving his face as he watched you. Before either of you could say anything more, Tom cleared his throat from where he hovered in the doorway, and you glanced back at him.

“Your time is up, Scout,” he said quietly, gently. “The marshal will be back any moment.”

You nodded, looking back at Jake, cupping his cheek and leaning in to press a desperate kiss to his lips. He kissed you back with urgency, reluctantly pulling away, and helping you stand through the bars. You watched as a tear slipped down his cheek, and you reached up to brush it away. He caught your hand, holding it to his face before turning and placing a firm kiss to your palm.

“I’ll see you on the other side, honey girl,” he rasped, letting go of you and stepping back. You didn’t move, and it took Sheriff Kazansky gently grabbing your elbow and pulling you into the other room for you to leave. You scrubbed at your eyes furiously, jumping when the door opened, revealing U.S. Marshal Simpson.

He blinked at you in surprise before his eyes darted over to where Tom was once again sitting at his desk, looking like he had never moved in the first place. Beau shrugged his jacket off and hung his hat on the hook by the door, eyeing you wearily.

“Miss,” he greeted with a nod. “What brings you by?”

Your mind scrambled, trying to find any excuse.

“Poor thing had her purse stolen,” Tom spoke up, shaking his head in disappointment. “Must have happened sometime this morning during all the excitement. It’s a damn shame when a young woman can’t even walk the streets in broad daylight without someone stealin’ from her, wouldn’t you agree?”

Beau hummed, moving to sit in the seat opposite Tom. You grimaced, nodding in agreement.

“Yes,” you sighed, “It had something very valuable to me.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out for it,” Tom smiled, nodding towards the door. “Are you gonna be okay by yourself out there?”

“Oh yes,” you nodded, turning to leave. You had to get to the Daggers, and they would surely be at Maverick and Penny’s home by now. “I’ll be just fine. I really appreciate all of your he-”

You stopped as your eyes caught sight of one of the many missing posters hanging on the wall. A familiar face stared back at you, black eyes just as cold and lifeless as they were in person. Isaac.

“Are you alright there, Scout?” Beau asked you, moving like he was going to get up. You glanced back and put on your best smile.

“Yes! Sorry, I just remembered a place I forgot to check for my purse. I’ll have to go there and let you know if I find it.”

As you moved for the door, you heard their last exchange.

“When do you want to do this, Beau?”

“Don’t hang’em til noon, Tom. That gives us time to get everything sorted out.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That wasn’t a lot of time for you to get everything sorted. You gathered your skirts and broke out into a run once you hit the street.

Maverick and Penny’s home was lit up, casting a faint glow out onto the dirt road as you walked up. You could hear muffled chatter coming from inside, and it cut off when you knocked on the door. A moment passed before Penny hesitantly cracked it open, sighing in relief when she saw it was you. She opened the door all the way and quickly gestured you to walk in.

“It’s alright,” she called out ahead of you. “It’s just Scout.”

The two of you entered the parlor where the rest of the Daggers, plus Birdie, Bunny, Natasha, and Maverick all sat scattered around. Birdie rushed to you, enveloping you into a tight hug. You reciprocated, glancing over her shoulder to see Natasha finishing up some of Reuben’s stitches above his eyebrow.

“I really wish you had come found me earlier,” you heard her mutter to him. “This is going to leave a nasty scar now.”

“Well, when the best doctor in town works in the middle of everything, it’s hard to sneak in and out,” he countered with a grimace as she cut the thread.

Maverick looked at you, face melancholic as his eyes met yours. “What brings you by Scout?”

You shifted your attention from him to Bradley, who was leaning against one of the end tables at the far side of the room.

“What’s the plan, Bradshaw?” You asked him, stepping forward. He glanced up at you, brown eyes unreadable as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

“What plan?”

“The plan to get Jake out of trouble,” you pressed, fists clenching at your sides. Bradley lifted his head, a look of indifference passing over his face as he looked away. You felt your jaw tick as you watched him.

“Oh, that,” he drawled, eyes still avoiding yours. He shrugged. “There is none.”

“I beg your pardon?” You bit out, rage overtaking you, and you felt Penny place a soothing hand on your back. “What do you mean you don’t have a plan?”

“I mean just what I said,” he snapped at you, eyes now focused on you with a mix of anger and guilt. “You think I have any favors to call in? Shit, Scout. Even Mav and Ice don’t have anymore favors to use on us. There’s no plan because there’s nothing to be done.”

“You owe him,” you ground out, words dissolving into a sob as you felt the tears race down your face once again. “You have to help him, please.”

“I don’t have any chips left to play, sweetheart,” he growled in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “Jake hangs tomorrow, and there’s nothing any of us can do about it. I hope your time with him was good while it lasted because-”

A smack resounded in the room, followed by deafening silence save for your labored breathing as you fought to control your breathing. Your hand stung from where it had connected with Bradley’s cheek, and you could see his eyes had widened in shock. His head had snapped to the side from the force of your slap, and he slowly turned to look at you, and you could see unshed tears shining brightly in the low light of the room.

“He is not going to die,” you sobbed. Your breaths came out in hard pants as you stumbled forward, clinging on to Bradley’s shirt as you gazed up at him. “He can’t die. You have to help him, please.”

You felt a gentle touch slowly pull you away from the brunette, and you collapsed onto your knees before him, hands grabbing on to any part of him you could reach as you well and truly broke down.

“Please,” you begged once more to no one in particular. “Please, someone help him.”

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roronoaswifey · 2 years

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐂𝐒, monster trio

summary. inviting the monster trio to your annual family cookout

pairing. monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinsmoke sanji x black!reader

warnings/tags. slight foul language, alcohol consumption, implied weed consumption, wholesome meeting the family content, reader is black but fic can be applied to all races

wc. 2.9k

kazu’s note. tee helped inspire me… even if the idea was all mine xo 💋 @sanjisblackasswife

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐃. 𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘

“let’s fucking go!”

→ he’s oddly excited to go, mainly because of all the fun stories you’d told him in the past and food

→ wherever there’s a fun time and food, you know luffy’s down

→ the second you stepped in, you lost your boyfriend. in the overwhelming swarm of greetings and hugs and kisses, luffy was nowhere to be found

→ you were asked by all family members where was this boyfriend of yours and your left brow twitched in suspicion, cause where else would the bastard be at this ripe hour?

→ ding ding ding, the kitchen of course.

→ he leaned over the counter, eyes shimmering in want as he drooled over whatever seemed to be cooking in the crockpot

→ your mother eyed him suspiciously, lost and completely confused as to who this clearly non family member was doing in her kitchen

→ you found him and easily, smacking the back of his head while scolding him on proper etiquette, to which he pouted and argued that,

→ “but i’m hungry!”

→ “dumbass, where are your manners?”

→ your mom didn’t take it to heart, however. she appreciated how he could distinctively spot a good dish from away

→ after poutingly introducing himself, luffy beamed at the premade plate in front of him, thanking your mom endlessly with hugs before diving into his meal

→ though stunned by the way he inhaled his meal down, your mom was also impressed by his go-lucky nature, going as far as ruffling his hair affectionately

→ luffy’s definitely best friends with the younger cousins. he keeps up with their games, laughs along at anything and agrees when they ask him to bring them to a nearby park

→ they ask for story times of adventures when he’s at sea, and listen with heart eyes as he tells them about the amount of sea kings he’s slaughtered and bad men he’s defeated, going as far as re-enacting the situations

→ he’s also at the center of the mosh when adults ask the kids to dance for money. he isn’t even doing it for the money, he’s just so full of energy and everyone loves his vibe so much

→ he definitely makes money off it though

→ dinnertime is horrendous. he’s got a big appetite, and you warned your family beforehand, but naturally they’re still in shock at the way he basically SWALLOWS the table.

→ your mom is a huge fan, prepping beforehand containers of food so he doesn’t go hungry

→ even if he’s basically gobbling down his and other people’s share of food, luffy is known for his outgoing and warm personality, so of course he’s the center of entertainment

→ he’s cracking jokes, singing off key, dancing ridiculously and your family seems to be eating it up. they laugh like he’s the funniest man, sing along as if he was making sense, even hype him up when he dances foolishly

→ at some point in the day he’s so stuffed he ends up knocked out with some random kid in one of the rooms upstairs, snoring with the child snuggling into his torso, damn near rolling over him

→ nighttime falls before luffy wants, and eventually it’s time for y’all to go back, but lemme tell you this man is so bummed out

→ not only does your family bash you for “gatekeeping” him from them for so long, but luffy’s pressed because not everybody seems to have left but now you’re forcing him to go too??

→ “lu, we gotta set sail tonight or else nami’ll have both our heads on a platter!”

→ “i don’t care! i’m captain, and i decide we stay!”

→ you’re so ready to shove your fist down his throat when your mom shows up, containers full of food in her hold as she offers a simple solution that has luffy obeying uncharacteristically easily

→ you rolled your eyes, grabbing the packed food as your mom smothered luffy in kisses, thanking him for having shown up and expects to see him more often

→ she also gives him the sentimental “look after my daughter” speech as if he’s not the one that needs to be looked over

→ luffy replies with his infamous laugh, hugging your mom back as his answer makes your chest bloom with warmth,

→ “of course! y/n’s the love of my life.”

𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐀 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎

→ “uh…”

→ that’s the face he made the second y’all entered the house, greeted by your skeptical dad who gave him an offish look

→ “so you the thug my baby’s dating?”

→ “dad.” you gave your dad a pointed look, and he rolled his eyes, waving off as he claimed he was joking, but the way zoro was frozen is fear (?) suggested otherwise

→ so, rough start, but zoro decides he’s gonna try his best to make your family approve of him. i guess it helps he brought a bottle of wine (selected by sanji ofc) to woo the fam

→ he follows as you make your way towards the backyard, greeted with love and hollers as everyone chants how it’s been so long since they last saw you

→ you get hugs and kisses from uncles, aunties, grandparents, family friends and cousins, whole time zoro stands behind you like 🧍waiting for you to finish

→ “gonna introduce us to your hunk of a man?” some thirsty auntie practically ogles zoro and he’s frozen to pieces again at the attention on him

→ you roll your eyes and nudge zoro forward to introduce himself, and he inwardly curses you for setting him up like that

→ “roronoa zoro… ma’am.” you nearly decked him up the head for the unneeded formal greeting, but your family laughed it off, amused by his sternness

→ “your name roronoa?”

→ “no sir. i’m japanese.”

→ “well that’s new.” you glared at the same thirsty auntie, hoping she wasn’t somewhat shading you for your taste in men

→ regardless, zoro went through the crowd and attempted to present himself, though it was unnecessarily stiff, you rubbed your hand on his back for his efforts

→ zoro finds it really hard to find peace and quiet at events like these, though he doesn’t hate it but isn’t exactly used to so much familial love in one place especially with the lack of family growing up

→ he does find peace in the normality of everything, no piracy or wild government issues involved

→ your dad manages to find him and challenges him alongside the other uncles to a drinking contest, but because you know you have an advantage, you decide to place bets on winners

→ bets are predictable enough; everyone besides your mom and you bet on the undefeated champion that was your dad. joke’s on them cause naturally zoro won

→ he swipes his hand over his mouth, smirking at your dad across the table as you stand next to him, arms crossed over your chest and smirking tauntingly back you guys looked so badass

→ your dad eyes you both saltily, and zoro fears he fucked up yet again by taking the challenge too seriously, but when your dad breaks out in laughter and gives his hand to shake, a sweat dropped from his hairline in relief

→ you made about 350$

→ your (single) aunties cannot get over how good looking he is. they swarm around him, praising him for his out-of-this-world visuals and smother all over him, pulling at his cheeks and tugging at his biceps

→ and in returns he’s just like “uh, thank you.” while giving you a look to save him, but you’re evil and let him suffer alone

→ now when the kids get ahold of this man, just wish him goodnight at this point cause you’re not seeing this man for the rest of the night

→ they love this man ☠️ is it the fact that he seems so unappeased and stoic, or the fact that he’s a new piece of meat to bother, he really couldn’t tell

→ they tug on his arms, sit on his lap, play with his hair, and ask for stories of what it’s like to be at sea while being such a strong pirate

→ “you got three swords?!” “i do.” “can i use them?! please?!” “i’m pretty sure y/n would kill me.” “no she wouldn’t! she lets me play with swords all the time!” “uh…”

→ when you caught him giving piggyback and airplane rides to your very happy younger sister, you leaned against the doorframe and teased him about how well they got along to which he bluntly denied

→ you saw the fond smile on his face tho

→ still you drag him downstairs to meet up with your older cousins and family friends, slipping on some slides as your dad corners y’all at the entrance

→ “we’re gonna go take a walk.” you smile sheepishly, kissing his cheek and your father gives you a look, seeing easily past your lame excuse but does nothing to stop y’all

→ “we are?” your confused boyfriend mumbled, tugging your sundress and your cousins and friends laughed at his naivety, saying something along the lines that they’d get along just well

→ the walk taught him a few things; weed is definitely not for him nor his throat, you get overly affectionate when you’re high and your one short friend is hilarious when he’s hungry

→ he gets along well with other significant others of family members, all in the same “freshly arrived” boat. he and your sister’s boyfriend actually bonded over the kendo matches airing on the sports channel

→ when night comes, he’s almost drained by how much social interaction he was put through. you wish everybody a goodnight and they threaten you to bring him back to the next function “or else”.

→ you’re at the door with leftovers and drinks, and when you leave the door, zoro realizes he probably should privately share his goodbyes to your dad, and so he goes back when you don’t notice

→ you noticed you were talking to yourself for a while, so you frown and wonder if your man got lost while you were busy ranting about how happy you were

→ you head back to the house, ready to search for a lost moss but you halt your step when you hear familiar voices talking

→ “you take good care of my baby, roronoa. she better be in one piece next time y’all come ‘round. got it?”

→ you roll your eyes at your dad’s usual protectiveness, ready to counter on his behalf but you’re cut to the chase by your boyfriend,

→ “i love her, sir. nothing bad’s ever gonna happen as long as i’m around, i swear.”

𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

→ “sounds like a good idea, my love!”

→ sanji blends in with your family alarmingly well. it’s barely been a few minutes since y’all got in, and he presents himself with bouquets of flowers and wine, and the whole house has fallen head over heels for him

→ sanji used to be a waiter alongside a sous chef, so his conversational skills are flawless. he knows exactly what to say to make your members feel listened, nods when they speak and engage in their stories

→ your mom is in love with this man. when he presented himself, he reached out his hand and when she laid hers in his, he kissed her knuckles all gentlemanly and gave a wink, and she was weak in the knees

→ you had no worries about sanji meeting your family, you knew they’d fall for his charms just as you did

→ unsurprisingly, most of his time is spent in the kitchen with the ladies, even though they tell him he can go relax elsewhere with the men. he presses that he’s fine and he’s willing to help with the preparation, as he is the chef’s cook

→ you find him minutes later wearing an apron cutting up vegetables, laughing brightly at whatever story your mother had to share

→ while he spends his time in there, the tipsy aunties spill and rant all the family’s tea, from unplanned pregnancies to cheating scandals, and sanji’s nosy ass is all in for the business, going as far as asking questions and throwing in his own opinions

→ like imagine “you’re joking! is that not her sister’s ex man?! what a low blow!” “i know right? she’s been shady as fuck.” he gasps dramatically, hand on his hip as he pauses from mincing the garlic

→ dramatic bastard

→ he offers to help set up the table as he’s used to doing it on the ship, and your mom almost feels bad for making her guest help her with everything, but he expertly holds plates in his hands as he winks, “anything for my mother-in-law, mademoiselle.”

→ he’s so used to eating last, making sure everyone’s gotten a good taste before he can sit back, so he’s taken aback when your mom slides him a plate on the counter

→ you’re rolling your eyes playfully as sanji tries to push the plate back respectfully and offers that your mom eats before he does, since she did make everything

→ “give it a rest, she’s as stubborn as you are.” you nudge your shoulder against his, and he straight up pouts, before nodding and thanking her for the meal

→ he was stunned at the outburst of flavours, not having ever tasted anything as unique as soul food in his life. he has literal hearts out of his eyes and his mother mentions warmheartedly how cartoon-like it was little does she know

→ though you underestimated sanji’s stubbornness when you caught him doing the dishes, claiming he was unloading the amount of work your mom would have to do

→ she was baffled by his kindness, wrapping her arms around him and planting a kiss at his temple, chanting how he was her new favorite and you teasingly scoffed at the bashful blush that crept at sanji’s face

→ your younger sister is in love with him. like, actual love. she wants to marry him and keep him in her room for the rest of her life, so she says.

→ when nobody wanted to play dollhouse with her, he felt his chest ache at the way she seemed defeated, instantly reminded by his own childhood, so he offered to play with her and she was immediately crushing

→ “sanji, i love you! be my husband!”

→ he chuckles sheepishly, “but what about your sister, darling? it wouldn’t be room nice if i left her alone.”

→ your sister pouts and has tears swelling in her eyes, and sanji is such a sucker he gets swept in by her manipulative tactics, that he leans forward on a knee and holds her hand reassuringly.

→ “how about you get older first, then we’ll talk, okay? you’re still my favorite after all.” he ruffled her hair and revelled in the way she looked away so shyly, nodding before running away

→ “i’m wounded, sanji.” you flatly spoke, a smirk on your lips as he rose to his feet, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment

→ while you laid in the living room and digested dessert, you suddenly missed the presence of your boyfriend as he was hogged by your mom all day

→ you got up and made your way to the kitchen, to which you saw sanji sat across the counter, notepad and pen in his hands as he scribbled on the paper while your mother rambled

→ “what’s going on here?” you eyed the two suspiciously, who both froze mid-action, before turning to you like a deer caught in headlights

→ they both denied that anything was happening, that they were just catching up on their lives as if that wasn’t what they’d been doing all night. you sighed, letting it slide as you beckoned him over, complaining you missed him

→ eventually the night came to an end, and everyone was bummed that he was leaving. it almost made you feel like they could care less about you ☠️

→ everyone sent sanji kisses and hugs, forcing him to come by and visit, and to bring something he made next time so they can ogle at yet another skill of his. he promised he’d blow their minds away, with a kiss at their knuckles ofc

→ your little sister was so bummed, tearing up at the door as she watched you guys get ready to leave, and sanji desperately didn’t want her to be mad with him, so he told her to turn around, and he unclasped her necklace and slipped one of his rings on her chain, before putting it back on her neck.

→ her eyes mimicked his similar heart eyes expression, dropping her teddy on the floor as sanji kissed her knuckles. you thumped him up the head and told him to hurry up so y’all could leave

→ deep down you were happy that he was getting along with your bitter baby sister you were just tired

→ your mom was the last guest to watch you off, and after hugging you goodbye, she moved onto her new favorite and hugged him too, before pulling away and holding his hands affectionately

→ “i’m so glad y/n found you. keep her happy sanji, you’re a great boy.” she had tears swelling in her eyes, and when sanji tightened the hold on her hands, you watched him with hidden admiration,

→ “i’m the lucky one, mademoiselle. i’ll do my damn hardest to give her the happy life she deserves.”

i gave up halfway leave me alone 💀

#roronoaswifey.exe #kazuha’s works 📂#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x black!reader #one piece x reader #luffy x black reader #luffy x reader #zoro x black reader #zoro x reader #sanji x black reader #sanji x reader #one piece fanfic #x reader

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