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lovebugism · 29 days

Note

Could you pleaseeee do more single dad!Eddie 🥺

✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ stand by me ]

summary: after totally embarrassing yourself at eddie's kid's birthday party, the metalhead single dad from the trailer park shows you his (perhaps equally embarrassing) favorite movie. (2.9k)

pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: eddie and maeve universe, strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, girl dad eddie munson™, fluff, ugly crying at movies

You never did crack open that bottle.

The one you accidentally brought to Eddie’s kid’s birthday party? Yeah, that one. The glass container sits unopened on the coffee table in front of you, casting amber reflections on the old wood beneath the lamplight. It’s just a silly conversation starter now. You’ve got no real reason to drink it, anyway.

There’s nothing more intoxicating than Eddie Munson’s presence.

Sunrays spill from your mouth when you tip your head back to laugh. You turn to look at the boy on the other end of the couch, and your warm cheek squishes against the cushion. “Stand By Me is not your favorite movie!” you argue, giggling softly with disbelief.

Eddie has no idea how big he’s smiling. He’s too busy staring at you to notice the beam on his face.

He shrugs his shoulders, now free from the confines of his leather jacket. He wears a faded Peanuts shirt now. A hand-me-down, you figure. “I mean… Land Before Time is a really close second,” he answers in a teasing lilt.

“Oh, yeah. Only the saddest movie ever made.”

“Maeve used to love it. And, like, not in a normal way— She used to make me play it for her until the tape spun out,” Eddie tells you, chuckling softly to himself. “It grew on me eventually, but… Then she grew out of it.”

You watch him get all forlorn at the thought. You meet his subtle pout with a scrunched nose. “Well, she’s only four, right? Surely, she hasn’t had time to grow out of much.”

Eddie scoffs and slouches further on the couch until his thighs spread. “You’d be surprised. Every time I think I— you know— start to understand her a little bit or whatever, she just… She changes, you know? Like, overnight.”

He doesn’t mean to get so suddenly sentimental about the whole thing. Especially not in front of a pretty girl he only met eight hours ago. He’ll blame it on the late night and the existential dread that always comes with birthdays. He conceals his brooding behind a dumb joke.

“I mean, just this morning, Maeve’s favorite animal was a Hefflelump… Now it’s a blobfish.”

You try to hold back your laughter. You fail. The sunshine-coated giggle sputters from your mouth despite your attempts to keep it hidden. Eddie only laughs because you are.

“I should’ve said turtle or something,” you humor with a roll of your eyes, tucking your knees to your chest. “Or, like, a badger. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten made fun of all day.”

“Those aren’t any less normal,” Eddie chuckles with a lopsided grin, dark chocolate eyes twinkling ‘cause he never really liked normal anyway.

You shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

“You wanna know something?” he blurts after a long beat of silent smiles. “When I tucked her in, she made me promise to take her to the aquarium tomorrow. Said she wanted to see ‘if the blobfish were just as gross in real life.’

You smile so wide your eyes squint at the edges. “Do they have blobfish at the aquarium?” you laugh.

Eddie shrugs. “Probably not. But she’ll get to pet a stingray or somethin’. Then she’ll forget all about it.”

“Sounds fun…” you murmur, picking at pills of cotton on the old couch with a suddenly anxious hand.

“Yeah. Parenting always is,” Eddie hums with a distant smile. “Even when it isn’t.”

“Should I— Should I, like, go?” you stammer.

The boy seems shocked by your question. His fluffy brows pinch as he hums. “Huh?”

You squirm, less than comfortable in your own skin. “Well, I mean, it’s… It’s getting kinda late and everything, and… If you guys are going into the city in the morning, I don’t wanna, like, keep you or whatever—”

Suddenly anxious, Eddie sits up a little straighter. “No! No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he responds, then quickly follows with wide eyes. “Unless— Unless you want to leave—”

“I don’t!” you answer, equally flustered.

Eddie forces an awkward chuckle. “I don’t want you to think I’m, like, keeping you hostage here or something—”

“I just don’t wanna overstay my welcome—”

“You couldn’t,” he insists.

You nod, and in a mousy voice, you reply, “Well, you couldn’t keep me hostage, so…”

Eddie grins. “Good.”

“Good,” you echo.

“So… Wanna watch a movie or something?” he offers with a fluttering heart and fidgeting hands.

He feels like a teenage boy all over again — only he never actually got the opportunity to ask a pretty girl out when he was a teenager. People weren’t exactly fighting to spend time with the local freak back then. Or now, really.

Except you.

“Whaddaya got?”

“Well, let’s see…” he says, grunting as he rises from the couch.

Eddie walks the short distance to the box television across the room — which Maeve has carefully decorated with a collection of sparkly stickers. He sorts through the VHS tapes stacked in less-than-organized piles with a ringed hand, realizing must’ve left all the good stuff at Wayne’s.

“Oh, you know… All the Maeve Munson favorites…” he singsongs with a sigh.

“Surprise me,” you call from the couch.

Eddie rises then, with two bulky VHSs clutched within ringed fingers. He holds them on either side of his face and grins between them. “Stand By Me or Land Before Time?”

“Stand By Me,” you answer with a firm nod. “Unless, you know, you wanna see me ugly cry.”

“That’s second date territory,” he quips with a wink, suddenly and very uncharacteristically cool. “Stand By Me it is.”

—————

You’re crying on a stranger’s couch about ninety minutes later.

The credits roll in static colors on the tiny television across from you. The low bass of a nostalgic song floats quietly through the living room — If the sky, that we look upon, should tumble and fall… Or the mountains, should crumble to the sea…

Eddie looks on with a sympathetic beam as you hide your teary face behind your palms. He can’t tell if you’re shaking from sobs or from laughter. Maybe a healthy mixture of both. “I thought you weren’t gonna cry!” he chuckles.

You peek at him through your fingers. Your eyes are glassy with tears and squinting at the edges with a smile. “I forgot how sad it was!” you sniffle, then laugh at yourself.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry… No, I won’t shed a tear…

“You’re crying, too!” you observe as the boy beside you wipes at his eyes with his fingertips. You reach over to shove him with a playful hand. “You big softy!”

Eddie scoffs and swipes his nose with the back of his wrist. “I’m not crying! I’m just… I had something in my eye.”

“Tears?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

He nods, and with a sheepish look in his eyes, he says, “Yeah…”

Your quiet laughter entwines, filling the dim living room with something sparkly and golden. The sound of violins swells in a similar way. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as he begins singing the lyrics to himself, not really trying but sounding pretty anyway.

“Just as long, as you stand, stand by me…” he croons quietly. You beam and sing softly along with him, audibly less serious about the whole thing. “And darlin’! Darlin’! Stand by me… Oh, stand by me—”

Both of you quieten when a door squeaks about open down the hall. The distant screech is followed by the patter of tiny footsteps. Eddie huffs and sits up a little straighter. “Ah, shit…”

Your face floods with horror. “Was I too loud?” you whisper.

“No. It’s just midnight,” he answers, shaking his wild head. “She always wakes up at midnight. Like my personal little Gremlin.”

Maeve appears in the dark hallway then, drowning in one of her dad’s old t-shirts. Corroded Coffin, the front of it reads, in what seems to be hand-made lettering. The thing fits her like a gown.

Her curls sit in an untamed halo around her head from the intensity of her slumber. She rubs at her swollen eyes with chubby fists. Eddie can’t help but grin at the sight of her.

“Hey, Mayday,” he coos. “What happened? You can’t sleep?”

The girl shuffles to her father like it’s muscle memory to her. Still half-asleep, she grips his shirt with graceless fingers and climbs onto his lap with her eyes still shut. She cuddles into his torso, fitting perfectly there, while you sit frozen on the other side of the couch. Like maybe if you’re real still, she won’t notice you’re there.

“We gonna go see da blobfish now?” she wonders in tiny slurs against his chest.

Eddie’s cheek squishes against her head when he smiles. The expression gets lost in her wild chestnut locks. “Not yet, May. It’s too late— All the fishies are sleeping now. Like you should be.”

She shifts on his lap like she’s trying to get more comfortable there. Her cheek, indented with lines of sleep, rubs against his shirt when she turns to look up at him. “Need you to tuck me in,” she tells him, tiny chin bobbing against his chest.

Eddie juts back to see her better. “Again?” he humors with his brows raised behind his curly bangs.

“Mhmm,” she nods, slow and sleepy.

“Okay,” he hums, scoffing a tired chuckle. “I’ll tuck you in again, bug.”

You don’t mean to laugh. It just crawls up your throat and out of your mouth before you can stop it. You try to hide it behind your palm, but Maeve still notices.

Her fluffy brows scrunch together when she turns to you. She swipes at the hair sticking to her cheek with a fumbling hand to see you better. She doesn’t say anything, though. She just kinda blinks at you, with a brown-eyed, emotionless gaze.

You muster a wavering smile at the girl, lifting your hand in an unsure wave.

“Wanna go see the blobfish with us tomorrow?” Maeve blurts. Though, in her less than awake state, it sounds more like wanna go see da bobfish wiv us tommowow? It’s like you can feel your heart melting.

“The aquarium,” Eddie clarifies.

You squirm in your seat. “Oh, I… I can’t,” you sigh, then follow quickly when she pouts. “I wish I could! It sounds super fun, but I’m… I’m busy…”

You aren’t, really. ‘Cause tomorrow’s Saturday — the only thing you really have to do is try to wake up before noon. You just don’t know how else to turn her down.

“Maybe next time?” Eddie offers hopefully, mostly for Maeve’s sake.

You nod rapidly, just for Maeve. “Yeah. Next time. Definitely.”

“See? It’s okay,” Eddie lilts, squeezing gently at the girl’s sides until she’s smiling again. “We can have fun just you and me, right?”

Maeve pouts in response, a sort of snarled face that’s obviously playful.

Eddie laughs loud and boyishly in return. “Hey! Don’t make that face at me!” he exclaims, feigning offense. Maeve loses her poker face almost instantly as she giggles. “Go get in bed, you weirdo. I’ll tuck you in in a second.”

“And read me another book?” she presses hopefully.

He nods, knowing it’s a fight he’s bound to lose. “And read you another book.”

“Two of them?”

The girl holds her pointer and middle finger in front of her face. Eddie chuckles and guides the latter back down with a gentle hand. “One,” he corrects.

“Two.”

“One.”

“Two!”

A brief stare-off ensues, one in which you’ve got a front-row seat. Maeve’s dark chocolate gaze resembles her father’s — button-eyed and swimming with something honeyed and stubborn. She tilts her chin to her chest and glares unwavering at the man in front of her.

Eddie inevitably caves. He sighs so deeply his chest deflates. “Fine… Two. But only if you run real fast.”

Maeves slides down his denim-clad legs until her bare feet hit the carpet. She scurries down the hall without another word, quiet giggles fading with her footsteps. Eddie slumps against the couch with a small, contented sigh.

You realize you haven’t stopped smiling for several minutes now. “She’s really sweet,” you compliment to fill the silence.

Eddie scoffs a gentle laugh. “Yeah. When she wants to be.”

The quiet returns. You run out of things to say. The notion of the late-late night settles more heavily upon you. You swallow hard and fight for a way out that doesn’t make it sound like Eddie hasn’t just given you one of the best nights of your life.

“I think I’m gonna—”

“Well, I should—”

The boy starts speaking at the same time as you. You cut each other off without trying, then laugh quietly at yourselves.

“You first,” you tell him.

“I should go tuck Maeve in before she goes all Mayday mode and starts screaming at me,” Eddie says, only partly joking.

His sweet little Maeve is only Mayday when she’s throwing a too-passionate tantrum. Or when it’s past midnight, and she’s acting like a total gremlin. He doesn’t particularly want you to witness either. ‘Cause kids tend to be pretty gnarly sometimes — especially when you aren’t the one raising them.

“Yeah, I should probably start heading home, anyway,” you reply. “It’s late.”

Eddie rises with a small huff. You follow behind him towards the front door, both of you moving with slow and heavy strides — neither particularly wanting the other to go.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” he says beneath the sound of the screeching screen door. “And for helping Maeve have a good day and everything… Most people don’t really consider hanging out with a four-year-old and her dad a good time, so…”

“Well, most people are weirdos,” you scoff and slide past him through the doorway. “You and Maeve are, like, the coolest people in Hawkins.”

You stand ahead of him on the front steps of the trailer, glowing beneath the silver moon and the buzzing amber porchlight. Eddie lingers in the entryway and holds the door open with his shoulder, so he can hear Maeve when she inevitably starts shouting for him.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” he wavers with a scrunched nose. “Maeve’s pretty cool and all, but… She definitely didn’t get that from me.”

“Your favorite movies are Land Before Time and Stand By Me,” you deadpan with a flat face. A smile inevitably pulls at your lips when you look at him too long, pretty as he is. “You’re cool, Eddie. Whether you wanna be or not.”

“Agree to disagree,” he grins, totally sheepish as he shrugs off the compliment. “Thanks for hangin’ around. Again.”

He feels like he’s said that too many times now, but he’s too full of gratitude to stop. It’s been just him and Maeve for so long. And, yeah, sure, Steve and Robin come around when they can, but they’ve got their own lives outside of this one. It isn’t every day someone appears at his trailer with a bottle of booze and the wherewithal to acclimate to his chaotic life.

Eddie feels like he should never stop thanking you, really.

You shrug. “Thanks for keeping me around. Again.”

“See you soon?” he wonders with a hopeful glint in his dark eyes, made a much lighter amber in the moonlight.

You nod firmly once. “‘Course.”

And even though that’s as good a dismissal as any, you both linger in the doorway still. Like your feet are glued in place.

How are you supposed to walk away from him? The man with wild rockstar curls, rings on each finger, and a beaded bracelet with his daughter’s initial in the very center. The man who loves cartoons more than his toddler and cries with you at sad movies?

You figure you’ll spend forever chasing this foreign feeling he’s so effortlessly given you.

“Daddy!” Maeve shouts. Her high-pitched voice rings through the tiny trailer. It makes you wince a little. You didn’t think something so tiny could be so loud.

“And there’s Mayday…” Eddie lilts quietly, unflinching ‘cause he’s used to this by now.

“I’ll go,” you laugh, walking backward towards your car. “I’ll— I’ll see you around.”

“G’night,” he calls to you as he watches you go.

His chest stings when he realizes he never asked for your number. It feels much too awkward to do it now, and he’s only got a few minutes more before Maeve goes crazy on him. He should’ve asked you ages ago, really. But he didn’t. ‘Cause he’s an idiot.

You notice it, too, but you flash him a sheepish smile over your shoulder anyway. Even if you never hear from him again after you’re gone, you figure there’s always next year.

Maeve will be another year older. Steve will bring you along to her party if you beg. Eddie will be in desperate need of a pick-me-up, and you’ll bring a bottle of booze just to make him smile. The alcohol will go untouched, though, as the two of you get lost in conversation and Stand By Me.

Even if all this was only destined to happen once every year — even if it was only supposed to happen once and never again — you’ll spend the rest of your life grateful that it happened at all.

With a cold hand trembling with longing, you wrench your car door open. Though your heart’s heavy with a distant worry that you may never be back here again, you grin at him through the grief and the small distance between you.

“Good night, Eddie.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #eddie and maeve

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medusas-graveyard · 8 months

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Crack prompt because I can't stop thinking about that one scene in mlb where Alya scribbled on top of a picture of Adrien and pointed out how he kinda looks like cat noir

Basically still the "Danny is the newly adopted Wayne au", in which he was taken as ransom (he had wished this day never came) and even though he could, hypothetically speaking, just deadass take off the ropes they're binding him in, he had swore to himself that he's going to enjoy being a normal teenager this time around. Also because he's tired.

Cue Batfam™ rescuing him and Danny could not stop staring at him the whole time. He scrunched his gaze especially when Batman himself was undoing his binds and reassuring his safety all while crouching down his level, his face almost too close to him.

He swore there was something so sickeningly familiar about the man, that is, before he realizes just why.

(Technically this is the end of the prompt BUT here's a continuation of what I actually wanna see. Implied autistic & non-verbal Danny but not rlly relevant)

&—

Danny barges into the living room where Bruce was quietly reading, accompanied by the hectic sounds of his siblings playing Mario kart over the couch. When he enters, he enters quietly; doing his best to not bother his siblings, (yet he always found himself feeling that they knew the moment he stepped into the room without even batting a glance.)

Much like Cass, he's non-verbal most of the times. So when he greets his adoptive father, he claps his hands once and waves, smiling like usual.

"Hey, chum. Is there something you need?"

His father's words were always gentle to him; understanding and full of care. He nods.

"Can I place my hand on your face?"

A strange request; he knows. Yet this is something he always felt an impulse to do. He finally breaks and decides to do it. His commitment to do it, however, falters the moment his father looks at him questioningly. An apology on the tip of his tongue—

"alright."

Even the response caught him off guard, yet he makes an appreciating sound and gently placed his hand on top of his father's eyes, just shy on the nose. Even though his hand isn't as big as his father's face, he blinks;

"Batman?"

#danny phantom #dp x dc #batfam #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt

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thedroneranger · 9 months

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Tip of the Cap (Bradley's Version)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Synopsis: Bradley rarely covers up his sun-kissed curls, but the one time he does...

Note: Tip of the Cap, started as a Bradley Bradshaw fic 😱 Struggling to finish it, I swapped the main interest to Jake and BOOM! it came together. However, the challenge of seeing through a Bradley version has been heavy on my mind, so I give you Tip of the Cap (Bradley's Version). Let me know your thoughts!

This one is for my Bradshaw Baddies™, in particular, @roosterforme and @cherrycola27—enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, smut.

Word count: 3.0k

That. Fucking. Hat.

You leaned your palms on the edge of the dresser as you thought about Bradley trotting around in denim cutoffs and his backward baseball cap. Rarely did he cover up his sun-kissed curls, but today, at the annual squadron beach party, Bradley had chosen to don a well-worn UVA baseball cap.

And he looked good.

A smile pulled your lips as you thought about Bradley’s cheeky grin while he backpedaled on the hard-packed sand, watching the play he just called unfold. The little curl trying to escape his cap through the adjustment strap hole had you shaking your head in disbelief.

Lost in thought, you hardly reacted as he sidled up behind you. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his mustache tickling you. His hands wandered down the beach cover-up you were still wearing, pulling your body against his.

You made eye contact in the mirror that ran the length of your dresser as he sucked on your neck. The moan that escaped you made him smile as he continued to leave hot kisses down to your collarbone. Then he nipped the spot where your shoulder met your neck and you purred. You reached back to rake your fingers through his curls, and instead, your fingers met the taught fabric of his hat. A pout overtook your lips as your nails scratched against his hat.

Bradley ghosted his mustache along your jawline. Planting a kiss on the hinge, he snagged his cap by the bill and placed it on your head. Too big, it fell over your face. As you adjusted it, he kept peppering your shoulder with kisses. By the time you got his cap adjusted, Bradley was done teasing you and strolling to the ensuite bathroom. The muscles in his back subtly shifted and his shorts moved just enough you could see the defined tan line low on his hips. His lower back dimples taunted you.

With a sigh, you turned back to the mirror and shared a frown with your reflection. Your lower lip rolled between your teeth as you thought. Standing to your full height, you placed his hat on the dresser, and then slipped your beach cover-up over your head.

When you got dressed that morning, you had picked a modest swimsuit, knowing the beach party was a work event. However, it didn’t hurt that the suit was also one of Bradley’s favorites.

All day long, you taunted him whenever an opportunity arose. A number of times, you wiggled in his lap, grazed your chest against his, or bumped into his crotch. Each time, you knew he was doing his best to keep his reactions PG-13 in front of his colleagues.

On the ride home, Bradley couldn’t keep his hands to himself. You did your best to seem unfazed as the calloused pad of his thumb stroked the soft skin of your inner thigh. Every so often, his thumb would sneak into the baggy leg hole of your cutoffs and would innocently graze the crotch of your bathing suit. Payback for your earlier behavior.

Goosebumps hatched on your arms as your thoughts wandered back to Bradley quarterbacking the dogfight football game. Listening to him bark out plays and yell at his teammates to get into position. Even thinking about him pushing his Caravans up his nose had you lusting.

And that damn hat. His answer to your warning about making sure he wore enough sunscreen to remain a golden marshmallow instead of morphing into a boiled lobster.

Bradley started the day with his hat forward, the bill shielding his eyes along with his sunglasses. The minute he and his fellow pilots divvied into teams for football, he cocked it backward. A couple drives into the game, he ran for a touchdown. Successful, he scanned the beach and locked eyes with you. Bradley gave you a beaming smile and tipped his cap. Instantly, heat pooled between your thighs.

That heat was pooling again as you thought about his taut muscles, raspy voice, mustache and that fucking UVA baseball cap.

Then it hit you.

One more look toward the bathroom door, the water was still running, you hustled to the closet. Both pieces of your bathing suit fell to the floor as you crossed the room. Once in the closet, you thumbed through until you found what you wanted—his favorite Hawaiian shirt.

You shrugged on the garment and buttoned it as you walked toward the bed. One of the last times you wore this shirt, you and your best friend took some polaroids that you tucked into Bradley’s duffle before he deployed a few days later. Once he found the photos, his only request was for you to model it next time you were together. Bradley nearly fucked you on the hood of the Bronco when you picked him up wearing the shirt tucked and tied so it look like an off-the-rack top.

Just as you were climbing onto the bed, you spied his ball cap on the dresser. Bradley was still in the bathroom, so you grabbed the hat and ran back to the bed. Nestled among the pillows, you arranged yourself with your head resting in the crook of your elbow. With your free hand, you adjusted the hat one more time and waited.

Finally, Bradley emerged. A towel slung low on his hips, he darted toward the closet. However, he did a double take and changed course when he saw you. “What is this?” He stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes locked on you.

You unbuttoned the shirt and had the thinnest sliver of skin showing. Your fingers trailed the valley between your breasts, down your stomach and stopped at your pubic mound. Bradley’s eyes tracked your fingers as they teased your cleft.

“Teasing you until I get what I want,” you said matter of factly, keeping eye contact with him.

Bradley’s lips quirked, trying to restrain a smirk. He unfolded his arms, placed a knee on the bed and climbed so he was hovering over you. He supported himself with a hand on either side of your head and his knee slotted between your thighs as you looked at each other. “Sweetheart, you pretend like you haven’t been teasing me all day,” he said.

“Did I?” You cocked an eyebrow, and then looked between the two of you as you dragged an index finger down his chest, his abs, and then dipped it into the roll of his towel. “Enlighten me.” You met his gaze while you tugged on the terrycloth, causing it to fall open.

His mustache shifted as his smirk bloomed. Bradley kept your gaze as he gently parted his shirt, letting his fingers ghost your skin until you were fully exposed. His head dropped to your chest, kissing and sucking each nipple until they peaked, and then trailed kisses down your stomach.

“The little black number you wore.” His tongue flicked into your belly button. “Every time you came in contact with me at the party.” Bradley pressed a kiss just below your navel. “Every graze. Every nudge. Every time you ‘settled’ into my lap.” He continued to let his lips brush against your skin.

Pleased with your reactions, Bradley sat back on his knees, pushing his towel on the floor and stroking himself until he was completely hard.

You watched him with hooded eyes. A whine escaped you as you let two fingers sink into your folds. Dipping into your wetness, you spread it around your lower lips as you watched Bradley.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He moved to push his thighs underneath yours and rest himself against your core. Gently grabbing your wrist, he pulled your fingers from your heat. You held your breath as you watched him guide your hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the pads before pushing them into his mouth. Yours fell open a little as his tongue swirled around your digits. His cheeks hollowed as he slowly pulled out your fingers with a soft pop.

Your eyes were locked on him, awaiting his next move. Bradley adjusted his grip to hold your palm face up. You watched as his saliva pooled on it. Using his tongue, he spread his spit around your palm and then positioned it around his cock. Loosely, you gripped him and lazily slid your hand up and down.

He sighed and ran his hands along your thighs as you continued to stroke him. As you got into a rhythm, he thrusted into your touch. “And now, you’re wearing my shirt,” he revived the conversation.

“What?!” You feigned surprise, sitting up and forgetting about him to grab at the fabric around you. “This is yours?!” You held a fistful of fabric in his direction. Bradley couldn’t help but continue to smirk as he leaned toward you.

Focused on him, you only remembered his baseball cap was perched on your head when his eyes floated to the bill—the only thing standing between your lips and his. Suddenly, the ball cap was resting backward on his half-dry curls and his body rolled over yours, pushing you flat into the bed. A hand on either side of your head, his thighs pushed yours wider as his lips and mustache glided along your neck and collarbone.

“My shirt. My hat.” Bradley said between kisses. “My pussy.” His teeth sank into your neck at the same time as he seated himself inside you. An rapturous moan left your lips, and your hands flew up to his shoulders, nails digging in. You snarled at each other—teeth sinking deeper, nails digging further.

Your breath hitched each time Bradley snapped his hips. Eyes wide, you rested your heels on the small of his back as he rutted into you. He pulled his head up to watch your expressions—you were getting louder with each thrust. He smiled.

The head of Bradley’s cock ground against the spot that made you see stars, so your eyes rolled back. “My hat, my shirt, my pussy,” he repeated like a chant. He kept hitting that spot, you could feel the warmth building in your belly. “Tonight, I’m gonna wear ‘em all at the same time.” The rasp in his voice alone nearly pushed you over the edge.

He hit that spot a few more times, sang your praises, and then you were coming. He hissed as your nails left raised pink streaks on his shoulders and down his arms. He continued to watch your face as he worked. Your eyes squeezed shut as you rode out your orgasm, clenching around Bradley as he continued to pump into you. A few soft grunts escaped him as he relished the feeling of you fluttering around him.

Your eyes flitted open to meet his hazel ones. He watched you as your hand moved from his shoulder to his jaw, and your thumb came to rest on his lower lip. Bradley pushed his lips against it a few times, matching the pace of his hips, and then his warm tongue met your thumbpad. He sucked on it before he tilted his chin to let your thumb rest there. You then ran it along his jaw as you stared at each other.

“It’s my turn, sweetheart.” Bradley gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you upright as he sat back on his haunches. You settled into his lap, still on his cock, and your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Bradley’s hands rested on your ass. One hand came back, and an open palm met your skin, sending a crack into the silence. You yelped and your hips canted forward. Bradley smiled as his teeth eclipsed his lower lip. His palm met your backside again, and you, again, yelped and canted forward. He spanked you a couple more times, enjoying your sounds and the forward motion of your hips.

Your ass was red, your skin hot, but you enjoyed the sting. You were so wet, you could feel your arousal running down his cock onto his balls. “You like that?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “You’re so wet, you're getting me all wet, sweetheart.” You mewled as you leaned into him and captured his lips with yours.

Arms still secured around Bradley’s neck, you scooted back and forth to get friction against your clit. Bradley smiled into your kisses. “That’s my girl.” He matched your motions, which caused you to moan between kisses while you moved in tandem.

Before long, your micro movements weren’t enough. Bradley was wound tight and wanted long strokes to get off. His hand crept to your neck, and he gently tugged you away. You were hard pressed to break your kiss, and you demanded that Bradley stay buried inside you as you changed positions.

Before you were flat on your back, Bradley helped you take off his shirt, leaving you completely exposed. Meanwhile, he slipped the garment on and hovered over you. His gaze was smoldering, pupils blown, and his hips picking up speed with each thrust.

“You feel so fucking good,” he cooed. Bradley’s head lolled back for a moment. You studied his chin, neck and chest while he was blissed out. Unable to control yourself, your hand came to his lower stomach. Bradley groaned and tilted his head forward so he could see you. He watched as you ran your knuckles his happy trail. Then, your hand slipped lower until your index and middle fingers were in a V-shape around the base of his cock.

Bradley continued to thrust as you applied light pressure. Involuntarily, he groaned and you smiled. You continued to coax him toward orgasm with your fingers and pussy.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Bradley’s version of saying he was close. One hand planted beside your head, the other now on your neck. His fingers applied pressure to the sides. You wrapped your free hand around his wrist. Bradley watched you to make sure you were ok with the amount of pressure.

Bradley’s current pace had you on the path toward another orgasm. Your fingers shifted from Bradley’s cock to your clit to help make that a reality. Bradley praised you for taking care of yourself and shifted so his thighs pushed your legs wider. The head of his cock kissed your cervix with each thrust.

The moans it induced from you was enough for him to shoot you full of cum. Bradley managed to keep pace as he came so you remained on track toward your second orgasm. As you pulsed around him, he slowed to enjoy the feeling.

Your mixed cum was oozing out as he continued to thrust and you continued to milk him. Some of it smeared onto your fingers as you continued to massage your clit. You brought them to your lips to lick clean. Bradley made the most desperate sound that pleasantly surprised both of you as he watched your fingers near your mouth.

Much to his pleasure, you brought your fingers to his mouth instead. He happily accepted them. First, licking from the base to pads and then letting you slip them past his lips. He swirled his tongue around them, bobbing his head to match his languid pace. Once satisfied, he hollowed his cheeks as you pulled them out. “Mhmm.” His tongue swiped his bottom lip, hoping to catch any remnants. You laughed and leaned up to press your lips to his.

Bradley’s lips ventured to your cheek and down your neck until he was kissing your chest. You whined as he slipped out of you. You watched as he kissed down your stomach and stopped at your pubic mound. His big hands gripped your hips and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He knelt on the floor, looping one of your legs over his shoulder and pushing the other as wide as the hinge of your hip allowed.

He kept eye contact with you as he kissed each of your pussy lips. And then, with a broad tongue he slowly lapped up your mess. You watched him, letting your fingers tour over rivets and seams of his hat.

Your thighs and your outer lips clean, you watched as he rested his hands on either side of your heat and gently spread your pussy. The cool air hitting you had you holding gasping. Bradley watched your face as he softly blew on your clit. You arched your back a little bit off the bed conflicted by the sensation.

Bradley started with a single stripe from your hole up to the hood of your clit. Then he dipped his tongue between your clit and your lip, repeating the maneuver on the other side. He was tender with his clean up, caressing you enough to feel good but not overstimulate.

When he stopped spreading you, he placed a final kiss on the cleft of your pussy. Then Bradley slipped out from under your legs and helped you sit up on the bed.

He stood between your knees. It was his turn to shower you in soft touches as you peppered kisses on his stomach and licked away your cum. You couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at you. His wild curl still trying to escape the adjustment strap on his hat and the open edges of his shirt fluttering slightly had you smiling. Finished with cleanup, you closed your eyes and let your chin rest against him.

“You interested in another round, sweetheart?” He asked softly. He stroked your hair and waited for your answer.

“What are you going to wear?” You teased.

A smile graced his face as he stepped away from you, heading toward the closet. “Oh, I have an idea.”

Palms supporting you, leaned back on the bed and watched as he disappeared into your walk-in. About a minute later he emerged, wearing one of his flight suits. He left the front unzipped so you had a view of his tanned chest and abs. The apex of his zipper drew your attention to where he wanted it most.

Your gaze floated back to his face. Of course, he topped off the look with his damn UVA baseball cap—wild curl included.

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cottonlemonade · 1 month

Text

Overprepared

word count: 947 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: University!AU Kuroo x chubby virgin!Reader

genre: suggestive fluff, humor, no descriptions of the act™

warnings: mdni, one time swearing, suggestiveness

synopsis: it’s your birthday and you decide you’re ready to take the next step with your boyfriend (chaotically)

____________________________________________

You sat at your kitchen counter, watching open mouthed as your boyfriend cooked. You were skeptical at first when he told you he wanted to make you dinner for your birthday but to your great surprise he seemed to know what he was doing and... It was pretty darn attractive.

There he was, chopping and stirring and flipping, wearing a clean black apron over well fitted jeans and a black shirt and wielding your chef’s knife as if he had never done anything else in his life.

When he turned around to ask you something he caught you biting your lip and gave his signature cocky grin.

"Seeing something you like?"

"Not gonna lie, this might be the hottest thing you've ever done.", you noted, popping a stray piece of shredded chicken into your mouth.

"Well, now you know why I love watching you cook.", he winked.

You looked at him incredulously. "You are always this turned on when I cook for you?"

He shrugged. "Basically yeah. But it's also really relaxing at the same time. It's weird.", he booped your nose, before feeding you a spoonful of steaming broth.

"Too salty?"

"Mmmh. No, it's perfect!"

He beamed and turned the heat off.

"Then, my birthday girl, dinner is ready."

He plated up and carefully pushed your bowl across the counter.

You toasted with an ice cold capri sun and started a discussion about whether or not cereal could be considered a soup.

Once dinner was over and your kitchen cleaned again, you sighed happily.

"So.", you flung your arms around his neck and stood on tip-toes.

He kissed your forehead, "What do you wanna do first?"

"Super Smash Bros?"

"You read my mind."

Since your roommates were gone for the weekend you decided to have Tetsurou sleep over. He had done so many times before but besides the occasional make out session it had always ended rather innocently, both of you too shy to make an actual move. But today you felt ready.

Tetsurou came out of the steaming bathroom wearing his usual sweatpants and t-shirt to find you on the couch in a little pink pajama set he’d never seen before. He grinned and plopped down next to you.

"You still have", Tetsurou consulted his watch as you climbed into his lap, "82 mins of birthday left."

His hands wandered over your plush bare thighs, making you shiver and shift in his lap.

You kissed for a while, his hands restlessly roaming over your soft body, feeling a jolt in his lower abdomen whenever you gave a quiet moan or gasp when he touched you somewhere you liked.

He was sure you could feel him pressing against you, when you rolled your hips like that, and that made him braver. His touches and kisses became deeper and more forward, but he was ready to retreat at the first sign of discomfort.

You pulled away, panting slightly, your lips blushed.

As you adjusted in his lap a strap of your tank fell off your shoulder but you made no moves to fix it. His mouth felt dry and he swallowed.

You put both hands on his shoulders and sat up straighter, your neck oh so tempting in front of him.

He looked up into your eyes, slightly hidden behind strands of still damp hair.

You moved again, unmistakably grinding against him, making him suck in a harsh breath and you smiled.

"You sure?", he asked quietly.

You nodded.

"If you want me to stop at any time, you tell me, okay?"

You nodded again.

"You, too."

He scoffed and kissed the tip of your nose, "Sure."

Out of nervousness you stretched out your smallest finger.

"Pinky promise?"

Tetsurou bit his lip from laughing again and curled his pinky around yours.

"Pinky promise."

You stood up and your finger still holding on, you led him to your bedroom.

"Shit, wait, the condoms are in my bag.", Tetsurou cursed and wanted to get up from your bed again but you stopped him.

"I gotcha covered.", you said coolly and opened your bedside drawer.

A little while after you had started dating and when make outs became a more frequent thing, you had made a trip to a drugstore around the corner and stocked up on contraceptives.

Since you were unsure about the judgment of sizes in different brands, and seeing as you had never bought condoms before, you had grabbed a pack from every size just to be safe.

He grinned and took a look into the drawer, then frowned and picked up a pack.

"XS? Really?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was going to be working with."

"But XS!?"

"Oh, I'm sorry that I didn't study your crotch or held up a banana for reference or ask Kenma for help.", you said sarcastically.

“Why Kenma?”

You just shrugged.

“Are there rumors?”

“Fskdjsf - do you want there to be rumors?”

“I mean to be fair, I could do a lot worse than him. Like you for example.”

“Oh, now I see. You don’t want to have sex. Gotcha. My bad.”

“Tch, at least Kenma would know it’s not XS…”, he muttered.

“Babe, do you maybe have something to tell me?, you snorted.

“I'll show you XS.", he said with a mock grumble.

And then grabbed the largest size.

"Kuroo Tetsurou, if this slides off, I will laugh at you forever.", you said sternly.

You looked at each other.

After a few seconds you lifted your brow to underline your point and with a small huff he took a size smaller.

"You better believe I'm not gonna be gentle with you anymore now.", he lied.

____________________________________________

#kuroo x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #kuroo smut #kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x you #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #chubby reader

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honeesucker · 5 months

Text

Part 8 -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 3,259

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start… Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

Chapter Content Warnings: Bakugo x reader sex, dirty talk, "just the tip" late-night quickie.

*Not proofread.

Previous | Next (In Progress)

Bakugo had gotten you back to the apartment, the car ride weighed down in silence; Kirishima opting to leave after he walked you both up, knowing this was a moment he shouldn't intrude upon but promising again to come and have a movie night with you soon.

You were sitting on the couch, in the same spot Kirishima had set you down. Your eyes unfocused, vision blurring as you blink slowly, staring at nothing as your body buzzes with... something.

Fear? Disgust? Disappointment?

You couldn't ascertain which one it was, or if it was all of them at once, all you knew is that you didn't hear Bakugo speaking, just a mumbled white noise of sound until he was sitting next to you on the couch, pulling you into his lap as he nosed as your temple and whispered in your ear.

"Talk to me, Pup," he said softly. His deep, low baritone reverberating through your body like a pleasant hum.

"I-I..." you tried to start a thought, but all words failed you. Nothing seemed fitting enough to express exactly what you felt. "I-I... think... I-I'm s-sad." You stuttered through the words softly, your eyes closing as the unfocused blur of your vision became dizzying. Bakugo's arms tightened around you, compressing your arms to your side like what you did to him before - deep compression therapy. He held you like this for the longest time, but a glance at the clock only showed just under an hour had passed.

"I know sad doesn't quite cut what I'm sure you're feeling, but we prepared for this, yeah?" Bakugo said softly. "You'll keep seeing Hana, but let's go every week instead of every other week. I've already got the restraining order filed with Hana’s help, and we should be receiving the official document soon... and we have each other. You're safe. I will never let that scumbag, or any other bastard ever lay a single finger on you, okay?" Bakugo jostled your body gently, coaxing a response from you as your mind wandered.

You just nodded, a soft 'okay' leaving your lips as you melted back into his encompassing hold.

You trusted Bakugo, you knew he meant what he said, and never added in any fluffy extra wording, or beat around the bush... if he said you were safe, that no one would touch you again, he meant it.

Yet you couldn't stop the worry eating at the back of your mind. Bakugo was strong, and powerful and fearsome, but so was he, and if he still had half the contacts he had before he went to prison, he was still just as dangerous... but would he really come after you? You did try to keep him in prison with your appeal at his probationary hearing... and he was one to hold a grudge until he got even - you had seen it countless times with the people who worked for him, entered deals with him, tried to get one over on him.

He always won in the end.

"Hey, stop that." You heard Bakugo's stern, comforting tone. You blinked the frightening visions away from your mind as you looked up at him, a question in your gaze that he answered. "Stop thinking of the worst-case scenarios, get out of your head, Pup... no matter what happens, I have you. Okay?" Bakugo had a strange way of being stern, strict and intimidating but also soft and composed, the surety in his voice a calming center as he stared down at you with harsh, dominating eyes. Determination and confidence oozing from him. "He won't ever lay a finger on you again, Pup," he finished again with a hardened resolve.

You nodded. "S-Sorry, yes... I... I trust you." Bakugo just balked and shook his head.

"No apologies, Pup, you're allowed to feel what you're feeling after that shitshow, but you can't let it take over - right? You can't drown in it..." Bakugo was talking to both him and you, at this point. Reassuring you while comforting himself as you leaned against his chest, your body relaxed in his lap as you nodded. He sought out and found just as much comfort in you being close to him as you did to him, it helped keep the sparking crackle out of his palms, helped keep the white noise and the deafening rings out of his mind.

"Thank you," you finally said softly, looking up to nose gently at his chin, a comforting nuzzle as you kissed his jaw, then his cheek, and then the corner of his lips. "Thank you for choosing me and dealing with all of my problems and loving me still."

"Tch, nothing to thank me for, Pup... I'd choose you a hundred times over again and again, b-but..." he paused for a moment, hesitation mixed in his normally confident gaze. "Thank you for choosing me back, Pup, for loving me too... and being a source of comfort for me. We help each other, yeah?" Bakugo asked softly, jostling you on his knee as you giggled and smiled up at him, nuzzling back into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah, we do." You said softly, closing your eyes as you took in his strong scent, allowing it to fill your body and calm you down until nothing bad was left in your body, no tightly wound anxiety, no worrying spiral of panicked thoughts... just him.

You fell asleep in his arms, sinking into his warm comfort.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You woke up late into the night. Looking over at the alarm clock on the nightstand it read that it was 11:49 P.M., and suddenly you realize you were tucked into Bakugo's bed, the mix of clean skin musk and caramel notes and the cologned scent of his deodorant floating into your sensitive nose as you pressed your face against the pillow.

His pillow.

You sucked in greedy breaths of air as something in you stirred, a growing need and soon you were slowly reaching down to run your three center fingers along the outside of your clothed pussy as you kept your face in his pillow; a quiet, choked moan leaving your lips as your ears perked up at the sudden squeaking sigh of a floorboard sounded off behind you... close behind you.

"You in heat already again, Pup?" Bakugo uttered softly, curiously, not accusatory or mocking.

You shook your head slowly, a pout on your sweet face as your bottom lip jutted out a bit, eyes teary in frustration looking back up at Bakugo dressed only in low-hung joggers, a clean pair. "N-No... not in heat just... your smell. You smell so good." You said softly as you nosed again at his pillow, and he quirked a brow looking down at you with his muscled arms crossed over his large chest.

“Yeah, Pup? I smell that good huh?" Bakugo teased softly as he came around the bed, the material sinking beneath his weight as he laid on his side, looking down at your pathetic display. "I smell so good to you that even a whiff of my pillow has you desperate to touch yourself?" He teased again, and you could feel the soft blush flush your cheeks and the tips of your ears warm and embarrassed. "You wanna come smell it straight from the source, hm?" Bakugo asked, knowing where this would end up, but he didn't care. He was head over heels for you, he wanted to protect you, he wanted to shower you with love... but he also wanted to fold you in half and press his weight down as he fucked his thick cock into your slick pussy... the idea of it made him groan as he threw his head back, his eyes screwed shut tight as he tried to cap his growing desire.

Your eyes widened, and you nodded. Crawling up onto him as he pulled you on top of him, as he shifted his body to lay on his back. Your legs on either side of his hips as you leaned forward to nose and nuzzle at his throat where his scent was the strongest...something about pulse points were so inviting. You took to the delicate skin of his throat quickly as you alternated between long lapping licks, and nosing nuzzles against his throat and without realizing it you had been grinding your clothed pussy down against the growing bulge beneath you. Bakugo's large hands were gripping the plush of your hips, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your sleep shorts as he gripped your flesh with a bruising force.

"Fuuuuck, Pup," Bakugo moaned out softly when you started nipping at his skin after a long lick up his throat, and as you did you ground down on his lap, the slick of your pussy soaking through your shorts and onto his pants as you started moving faster, guided by Bakugo's hands. "That's it, Pup, take whatever the hell you want from me." He growled out, bucking his hips upwards and bumping back up into your heated core as he felt your teeth clamping down on the soft skin connecting his neck to his shoulder. His hands fully gripping your ass cheeks, pulling them apart as he gripped the soft material of your shorts in the center and pulling. The soft material split down the middle with no resistance as you whimpered at the loss of warmth, but also at the primal display. Bakugo grunted and shifted his legs, and with one hand moved his joggers down and off his legs while keeping you on top of him. He threw the tattered material of your shorts against the wall, the torn material sliding down the wall and to the ground without an audience as Bakugo's focus was now solely on you, and the way your slick pussy was now gliding up and down the length of his painfully hard cock, the head catching against your hole every now and again making you whimper. Each time the veins and ridges of his cock caught your clit you keened, whining as you pressed back down against him, your eyes bright and needy as you glanced up at him, panting softly with your tongue lolled out of your mouth. Bakugo couldn't help the way he reached forward, cupping your cheek as his thumb pressed down against your tongue, groaning as you closed your mouth and swirled your tongue around the intruding digit.

"P-Pl-lease..." you panted out softly around his finger, each word enunciated carefully. "W-Want cock pl-lease..." you whined and pressed down against him, the fat tip of his cock barely pressing into your cunt as you moaned out softly, and then cried as he lowered his hips, angling them away from your pussy as you glared up at him.

He was looking down at you with a pleased look, smug and demanding, an arrogant arch to his brow as he chuckled down at the pathetic sight of you.

"Fuck yourself just on the tip, Pup," Bakugo said softly, a rumble in his words as he bucked his hips back up again, the tip of his cock slippery and coated in a mixture of his precum and your slippery juices. His hands came back on your hips, squeezing the fat there as he urged your body back down. He could hear the squelching airy sound as his cockhead entered your cunt, and the wet pop as it pulled out; your hips barely balancing above his cock as you lowered back down again, repeating the action over and over until you were too weak to keep your body up. Your legs were shaky and weak, and within a moment you were spearing your full weight down as his thick cock spread you apart, his tip pressing painfully against your cervix with an aching pleasure as he groaned out with the feel of your pussy walls warm, wet, enveloping him completely. “Such a greedy Pup...” Bakugo groaned out, gripping your hips tighter as he bucked up causing your body to fall forward as he fucked up into you roughly with a symphony of wet squelching sounds and airy slaps of skin until you both were moaning out together; Bakugo a lower growling groan and you a sweet high moan as you bit down on his shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you unexpectedly. You squirted slick juice around his cock, wetting his lap as he continued to fuck up into you, his hips stuttering and soon he was pressing deep into you as his cock twitched and pulsed with his own release, hot white cum flooding your pussy and dripping out and around his cock with your juices in a lewd mixture.

Your teeth were still digging down in Bakugo’s shoulder as he reached a hand up to pat at the back of your head gently, threading his fingers into your hair to scratch at your scalp gently. “Good Pup,” Bakugo let out breathlessly, his cock still left softening in your pussy as he enjoyed the still-spasming warmth of your cunt. “Let’s go take a quick shower and I’ll clean up the rest of the bed, huh?” Bakugo muttered gently against your temple, kissing you sweetly in the spot as he nuzzled his own face against yours, you just hummed in response, your tail wagging lazily against his leg.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

An easy three months have passed with an almost mundane normalcy. Kirishima and TetsuTetsu have been over multiple times for playdates, movie nights and after-patrol dinners. Bakugo even took you into his office a few days over the last couple of weeks on the days you didn’t go and see Hana at the Hybrid Rehabilitation Facility for your weekly therapy. Everything seemed to be on an upward trajectory as far as both of your healings. Bakugo kept taking you to regular check-ups to ensure your physical health was also healing alongside your mental health, and Bakugo even went to all his rehabs, check-ups and therapy, too, without so much as a grumble. He was happy to heal, if it meant healing alongside you and getting better together for each other... in contrast to nearly a year ago when Bakugo couldn’t imagine this working out, he was surprised even with himself as he made leaps and bounds in his recovery; a bit more of his hearing returned, there was less and less white noise and high-pitched ringing, and the Hero Support specialists were coming up with a high-frequency hearing aid that Bakugo could use that would aid in his hearing while protecting his ears from the loud blasts of his quirk and the outside world crumbling around him nearby in his daily Pro Hero work.

All in all, it was picturesque... but your life wasn’t such a smooth road, and good things have a way of being balanced with the bad, and your bad day came in the form of a shopping trip out with Bakugo.

You and Bakugo needed essentials and some groceries for the house, and before anything perishable was picked up, he offered to take you looking around for anything you’d enjoy having: new clothes, toys, books, anything at all. Bakugo had stayed back to look at some new knives and pans for the kitchen, while you wandered the store slowly looking around to see if anything caught your interest when a scent caught your nose. The burning, acrid scent of cigarettes and cologne, and the underlying musk of a person you long since had forgotten about in your recent peaceful months. “Hey, mutt.” A familiar, deep drawl rang out. You froze in your spot, a soft plush bear in your hands that you had grabbed from the shelf now served as your center of balance and focus, of peace as you strangled the soft toy in your white-knuckled grip.

Sharp, cold grey eyes regarded you with disdain and disgust. The over-gel'd slick back black hair greasy and catching the bright fluorescent light of the store as he stood in front of you with two other men flanking him a few feet back, pretending to look through items on a shelf as he spoke to you.

“You look good, mutt,” he said out in a smooth, sleazy tone. “Fatter even, guess that new guy’s feeding you well huh? Looks good though, nice soft flesh...” He kept talking, but his voice hooked in your head and reverberated throughout, overwhelming you like a nightmarish echo chamber. You wanted to whimper, whine out, scream, cry, growl, bite him... anything to protect yourself and get him away from you. Your head was spiraling when a strong hand clasped around your shoulder from behind and a sharp, angry voice spoke over you. One that was scarier than his, but you weren’t afraid of it.

“I’ll be informing your probation officer of this infringement on the terms of your release, and the restraining order we have on you.” Bakugo’s venomous, harsh tone rang out above you, sending a shiver down your spine. “Now, kindly fuck off before I blast that smirk off your face and leave you eating and breathing through tubes.” Your body sunk back against Bakugo as you sought comfort in his familiar scent and the hard contours of his body that always seemed to welcome you, and fit against you perfectly. “Now, you have ten seconds to fuck off,” Bakugo barked out, glaring at the men.

“Now, now, that’s not very generous of you.” He stated coldly, his friendly demeanor dropping.

“This is me being generous, prick, now leave before I utilize my right to arrest you and get detectives out here for you and your sorry entourage.” Bakugo nodded at the men behind him, glaring with equal ire at them as they twin men dropped their items and looked between Bakugo and their boss. Bakugo’s palms were sparking off with the desire to just blast this sorry sack of human to the depths of hell, but he knew a fight and more trauma isn’t what you needed – but you did need to be removed from this situation quickly.

Bakugo kept a hard stare levelled at the sleaze before the sleaze cockroach finally lifted his hands up in defeat, and slowly backed away with his men, and out of the store... as soon as his retreating back was out of sight Bakugo knelt beside you and placed his hands on either side of your face. “Hey my Pup, hey, you okay? Pup?” Bakugo asked in a soft, sweet tone only reserved for you. One of his large hands on your shoulder as his other gentle coaxed the soft bear out of your white-knuckle grip on the poor things neck. “Guess you like this little guy, huh?” Bakugo mused softly, trying to distract you from what just happened with the soft bear now in his hands, he lifted the tiny thing up to pretend kiss your face all over until you were giggling against Bakugo and snuggled up against his chest; your breathing back to normal and your anxiety lessened.

“How about you stick close to me, and we check out what we have and head home, yeah? I’ll cook you up a nice dinner with all my new kitchen gadgets, yeah? Sounds good huh, Pup?” Bakugo mused as he nudged you with his hip, a smile still on your face as you nodded, gripping his hand and walking toward the checkout, back to his shopping basket and you with your newly acquired bear in your hands.

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cursingtoji · 9 months

Note

I'm crying these cliches are so cute!! I think Denji with kissing under the rain + wet transparent shirt (he'd totally stare) + taking care of him while sick, would be very cute!!

𝑾𝒆𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕 ✧ 𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒊𝒏 ✧ 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒎 ┊the perfect combo so far?? thank so much for joining 🧡 The Clichés ™

Denji stood outside the Public Safety building where you were supposed to meet him for a mission assigned by your superiors, Denji was totally fine by your delay, it gave him time to psychologically prepare for being alone with his crush.

The forecast said it would rain but Tokyo was under a downpour since morning.

“Denji!” you came running and waving, no umbrella, nothing to cover you except your own hand above your forehead so you could see your path.

Denji waved back but he froze when you got closer and he could see how the white shirt of your uniform was glued to your skin, precisely to your boobs and the way it bounced with your seemly simple pink bra as you jogged in his direction. Did he just die? Are you an angel?

He could hear your voice and something about having your umbrella stolen when you went to a public bathroom, yet he couldn’t take his eyes off your chest, it looked to soft and he wondered what would be like laying down on them.

“…Denji?” you snapped your fingers on his face, “What’s wrong?”

Denji limited himself to just point down at your chest.

“Oh, good thing I’m wearing a bra today” you whispered like a secret and Denji felt steam was about to blow out of his ears like a cartoon, “Let’s go, there’s a convenient store on the other side of the avenue, we just need to cross that bridge. You’re okay with taking some rain, right Denji?” you laced your arm with his and he gasped feeling your plump chest against his arm.

Teasing Denji was very fun, but when you were in the middle of the uncovered bridge drenched to the skin and spotted your superior Kishibe coming from the opposite side you dropped your act.

“Uhm Denji? Maybe we should go back…” you crossed your arms to cover your chest.

Denji got confused at your sudden behaviour change and then he spotted the old man approaching under his umbrella while the two of you looked like abandoned dogs. Denji had more than just hots for you, and that meant he wanted to protect you from embarrassment, so he quickly moved to be in front of you, shielding your body.

“You kids are going to get sick” Kishibe declared looking down at the two of you.

“Her umbrella was stolen” Denji explained and you looked at your superior from above Denji’s shoulder.

“In the metro station toilet” you added.

“What about you, Denji?” Kishibe asked.

“I never had one, I usually just put a jacket on my head” the young boy confessed without any embarrassment scratching his neck.

“Gosh, here” Kishibe pulled his wallet and a thousand yen bill of it handing it to Denji, “Buy yourselves an umbrella and a warm drink” he resumed his path as you thanked him and watched as he disappeared on the corner.

“Hey, wanna buy fried chicken instead?” Denji held the sides of the bill excited, “Oh it’s getting wet” he noticed and put away in his pocket.

You were still at a lost of words for how quick the blond was to read the situation and protect your honour, so you didn’t hesitate in pulling him down by his tie and lock lips.

Denji only realized what was happening when your warm wet lips were already pressing on his cold ones. The rain keep falling around you as you nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Thank you, Denji, you’re really sweet” you whispered with the tips of your noses touching, Denji slowly opened his eyes noticing the droplets sitting on your eyelashes, “Let’s get fried chicken… and a coffee, you could use it” you took his hand holding it in hopes to warm it up a bit.

Maybe he did die and this was what heaven was like.

“We have a problem” Aki said when you answered his call. Twenty minutes later you were in his apartment knocking and asking if everyone was okay since he didn’t give you much information. “He’s your problem now, there’s medicine in the bathroom cabinet” Aki opened the door in his uniform already leaving for work as Power followed him.

“I made soup” she informed.

“That’s boiled egg water, please throw it away” Aki yelled climbing down the stairs.

“Denji?” you called softly finding him in the couch with a heavy blanket and a very red nose.

“I’m dying, help” he mumbled and you leaned to touch his forehead.

“Oh my god, you’re burning” you squatted to be on his eye level, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made you walk under the rain with me.”

“It was worth it” he admitted with a nasal voice due to his stuffed nose.

“Come on, let’s remove those blankets before you combust” you started to pull but he held to them whining about feeling cold, “You had the fever meds already?” he nodded, “Then how about that: you lose the blankets and I let you lay down on my chest.” Denji pretended to think, but in reality it took him less than five seconds to kick out his blankets.

“Totally worth it” he murmured having his hair played with on top of the softest pillow ever.

See also: Sexual Tension — Aki 🔞

#denji x reader #csm x reader #denji x you #denji x y/n #chainsaw man x reader #— the cliches ™

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filtharchives · 6 months

Text

guys im so embarrassed i wrote this but as a Freak™ i firmly believe there is not enough omegaverse in this fandom so i gotta write it myself

hopefully i’ve improved some since last time… 🫣

summary: cove x reader - your sudden heat triggers cove’s rut and no one is home to stop you

tags: NSFW, takes place in Step 3, fem/afab reader, omega!reader, alpha!cove, traditional stuff (being a provider for spouse) cause tbh i also can’t deny the housewife kink in me lol, normal omegaverse stuff like knots and slick etc., first time/virginity loss, mating press ♡, reader is pillow princess-ing, breeding kink (you tried to be safe but he got impatient sorry), only a little size difference/kink and belly bulge

it was a hot summer day–too hot for even the biggest beach bum to spend out on the sand–and you and cove were lazing around in your bedroom with the air conditioner as high as your moms would let you put it, which was just enough for you and cove to cuddle comfortably in your nest with the condition that he was shirtless and you were in the flimsiest tank top you could find. .

cove was beyond thankful to not have a shift at the tropical restaurant today. he told you he thinks he would have died if he had to wait tables while the restaurant was full of sweaty, heat-agitated tourists whose scents would overwhelm his nose which was pretty sensitive, even by alpha standards. his comment got a sympathetic nose exhale out of you, which in turn got a playful pout out of your boyfriend.

“don’t laugh. it’s not funny,” he scolds half-heartedly. “i really could’ve died in that situation. do you know how many sweaty, old alphas i’d have smelled? and they get so snippy when they’re sweaty and uncomfortable. if you knew what it was like working there, you wouldn’t be laughing right now.”

“yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes with a smirk, feeling a little smug as he squeezes your waist in his arms and nuzzles his face into your neck despite his little rant. “but they still give you the big tips, don’t they?”

“only cause they smell you on me,” cove argues. “they think that i’m an alpha working solely to provide for my omega mate, so of course they’d wanna ‘help out’.”

“then really, you should be thanking me right now, instead of lecturing,” you snicker, joking. “where’s my cut of the money?”

“your ‘cut’ is everything i buy you with those tips.” he nips at your collarbone pointedly. “those alphas are kinda right–i am providing for my little omega.”

my little omega. god, that sounds so delicious coming from his mouth, it almost makes you dizzy. and the idea of him taking care of you makes your inner omega purr with delight. you’re too busy fixating on cove’s words that you almost don’t notice cove perking up in surprise, his head lifting off your arm as he supports himself on his elbow.

“you…” he pauses, sniffing. “you smell different. just now.”

“mm?” you hum, looking at him with hazy eyes. you feel your body grow warmer and cove’s scent seems so tantalizing all of a sudden. cove seems to think the same about you, leaning back into your neck to sniff your scent glands, the arm he’s had over your waist moving back so he can grip your hip with his hand.

“smells sweeter…” he mumbles curiously, practically shoving his nose against your skin. his hand squeezes your hip before moving to your rear to pull you close to him again.

“cove-?!” you cut yourself off with a small squeak of surprise as he drags his tongue against your gland, your body shivering as his warm, wet muscle teases the sensitive skin. your hands press against cove’s bare chest as he rolls on top of you, caging you in his arms as his knees sit between your thighs.

“god,” he hisses against your neck, voice not as soft and playful as it was moments ago. “i’ve always wanted to smell this straight from the source. it’s not the same coming from your clothes.”

it’s only when he says that, that it clicks for you–your heat had arrived early. a few days early, in fact. and you feel silly, not recognizing it after several years of experience, but in your defense, the response from cove was far too distracting for you to put the pieces together on your own. but now that you know what changed in you, you also realize the change in cove was from his rut being triggered. by you. that thought warmed you up even more. cove calls your name.

“tell me to stop, and i’ll go home right now. i can ask my dad to deliver some of my clothes and we can call, just like we always do,” he says, eyes shyly avoiding yours and staring at your stomach instead. “but if you want me to stay… i-i’ll take care of you. i think- no, i know i’m ready. to take this step in our relationship. b-but only if you are! we can hold off on it if you want!”

he finally meets your eyes, looking a little frantic, as if worried he was too bold and would scare you off. still, you could see his arms shaking as he held himself over you, taking all the self control he had to not take you then and there. as much as you admired his restraint, your body ached for his.

“i want this,” you respond breathlessly, feeling almost winded by the anticipation and desire running through you. “i trust you, cove. i want you to knot me.”

cove turns bright red from his ears to his neck. he was hoping you’d say yes, but he didn’t expect such an explicit answer.

“oh! o-okay, let me just-” he nearly throws himself off the bed, running out of your room and you hear his heavy footsteps race down the stairs. before you can call out and ask questions after processing his sudden disappearance, you hear him running back up the stairs. he returns to your room and shuts the door with his foot, arms filled with water bottles and snacks. he gives you a sheepish smile as he sets them on the shelf under your window.

“for later, you know?” he says, fumbling nervously with the last water bottle before putting it down. “wouldn’t want you to get hungry or dehydrated.”

you’d make a witty quip if you were more lucid, but his preparation and concern for you makes you preen and only more needy for the rest of the care he has planned for you. smelling the slick pooling in your underwear, the cute look is wiped off cove’s face and replaced by an almost uncharacteristic, wolfish grin as he approaches you and your nest again. fuck, this heat is becoming unbearable–you want him now, you don’t even notice you’re whining until cove’s in front of you on the bed again, cupping your face and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of you, just like i promised,” he coos softly, his hands parting from your face to remove your shorts. he licks his lips again when he sees the large wet spot on your panties that had seeped through your shorts.

“one more time: are you sure you want to do this now?” cove asks, looking into your eyes through his lashes. his breathing is heavy with the amount of self-discipline he’s exerting. his inner alpha is practically howling at him to get on with it and fuck you like an animal, but he loves you too much to give in when there’s still a chance you might back out. “i can’t promise i’ll control myself o-or be gentle past this point. but i’ll do my best to stop whenever you tell me! i-if you ever tell me-”

“please,” you all but beg, adoring his efforts but so over the waiting. “please just fuck me already, alpha. i hate waiting.”

your interruption and desperation draw a small chuckle of disbelief from cove, but it also settles his nerves. he gives you an apology kiss as he tugs off your underwear, practically drooling at the unfiltered scent of your slick.

“sorry for making you wait,” he murmurs as he pushes your thighs apart, backing up on his knees until he can comfortably lean down and kiss your clit.

you’re a sobbing mess as cove draws you closer to your third climax of the day, still only giving you his mouth and fingers. as much as you begged for his dick after the second orgasm, cove insisted he needed to make sure his knot wouldn’t hurt you, even if it meant straining against his pants uncomfortably while rutting against your nest. still, with how enthusiastically he was devouring your cunt, you can’t say he wasn’t enjoying himself as well.

the slurping and squelching that filled your bedroom were lewd, but that was nothing compared to your mixed moans and the stench of sex that was probably stuck on your sheets by now. cove always got off on your scent during his ruts, holding your gifted, used panties to his nose as he jerked off, but the smell coming straight from your glands mixed with the taste of your slick on his tongue–he felt like he could cum untouched from those alone, but he needed to hold out until he could stick his dick inside you, even if he couldn’t actually breed you yet. oh fuck, the idea of you filled with his pups had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, even if the logical part of him knew you were both too young for that yet. still, he couldn't deny the idea’s appeal.

“cove!” you gasp, one hand tugging his hair as the other gripped the pillow behind your head. “‘m gonna cum again-!”

you barely finish your sentence before you gush all over his face for the third time, and just like the previous two times, cove laps it all up eagerly, rubbing his nose against your overstimulated clit as his tongue parts your lips. you try to push him away but it’s only once he was satisfied with his cleanup that cove lets up to pull you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. you moan into his mouth and whimper when he pulls away but you’re already too spent to chase his lips. he chuckles at your dazed state but is far from done.

he gets off the bed and finally relieved himself of his pants and boxer-briefs and you drool at the sight of his big dick and the much-desired knot at the base. he nearly trips as he simultaneously hurries to your drawers while removing his clothes and digs through your drawer to find the condoms (that you’d told him your moms bought for you regularly once you and cove started trading clothes during your synced mating cycles. it was funny and embarrassing at the time, but now you were grateful). he grabs a handful and rips open the first one as he rejoins you in your nest, also ripping the condom inside in the process. he tosses it aside and goes for the next condom, only for history to repeat. he blows through two more, growling as you whine impatiently, before muttering “fuck it” and tossing all the condoms onto the floor.

“i’ll buy you plan b later, okay?” cove assures you as he lines up his dick to your pussy with one hand, the other holding up one of your thighs. “just be good and take my knot, just like you wanted.”

you moan a cuss and throw your head back on your pillow as he slides in, your endless slick and his careful preparation making it easy and oh-so pleasurable. cove hisses as he stops just before his knot, his now-free hand moving to your other thigh. you’re about to complain about the lack of movement but cove already starts pushing in again, watching intently as your cunt swallows him up with relative ease. you mewl at the stretch that was much easier than you’d anticipated–you’ll have to thank him later for making it so easy on you despite your impatience.

cove stops again once buried to the hilt inside you, his eyes flick up to your face and, seeing you without any discomfort, grins.

“look at that, omega,” he murmurs, his hand pressing gently on the small bump in your belly that disappears and reappears with each slow thrust of his hips, making your breath stutter. “your needy little pussy all stuffed by my cock.”

playing nice doesn’t last long, however, as he quickly gets pussy-drunk and picks up the pace.

“f-fuck~” cove groans, tossing his head back in pleasure while his hands grip the backs of your knees, keeping you wide open. he leans his head forward again, looking at your half-lidded eyes and drooling, moaning mouth with dark eyes. he lets your legs fall to his sides, choosing instead to lean forward with his elbows at the sides of your head and his chest pressed against yours, practically putting all his weight on you as he fucks you hard and fast.

the wet slapping of his balls on your ass and the sounds that leave your mouths are loud and lewd and surely your sister or one of your moms will come home soon, but cove really couldn’t care less when it feels so good. he’d always dreamed of having you on his knot like this, ever since he first jerked off to your scent, but having it for real was better than he could have ever imagine. so tight and warm, and the fucked-out look on your face was even better.

“so cute like this,” he mutters, his face so close to yours and you try to focus your eyes on him but can barely keep them from rolling back. “you were made to take my knot. we fit so well together. fuck, i can’t imagine doing this with someone else. i should just claim you already.”

the prospect of being claimed by cove makes you keen. his face is shoved up against your neck again, inhaling your scent like it’s oxygen, and he really is tempted to bite you then and there.

“you’d like that, right? being bonded to me? oh f-fuck! oh, yeah, you do. tighten up so much at the idea…” instead of biting your neck, he moves his mouth to your shoulder and satiates that need. you cry out his name, both out of pleasure and disappointment. it feels so good to be bitten by him, if only it was where you want it most.

his sweet words are reduced into babbles as he loses himself in you and you could admit that you’ve lost yourself long into this heat. his tip kissing your cervix and his knot stretching your lower lips is all so delicious, it’s overwhelmed you to tears.

“c-cove,” you gasp, clawing at his back, toes curling as you get closer.

“mm-” cove grunts, picking up pace for the final stretch as he mutters thoughtlessly into your ear. “gonna fill you, omega… fill you with pups… all mine…”

normally, the thought of being pregnant would would terrify you, but with a heat-clouded mind, it’s all you want.

“please fill me,” you whimper. “cove- cove! wan’ your pups… please gimme pups, alpha…!”

“agh- fuck!” cove’s arms cradle your head to his chest as his knot swells, locking him inside you. “gonna fill you,” he repeats. “fill you w’ my pups… my omega… all mine…”

you cry out as cove’s hot seed fills you, clinging onto him with your arms and legs wrapping around his muscular body. he’s shaking and growling and still babbling as he cums, and his load feels heavy inside you, especially with his knot preventing any from leaking out. as he comes down from his high and feels fatigue wash over him, cove quiets down and at least finds the strength to lower himself onto you slowly, lying on you while his still-inflated knot keeps your bodies stuck together.

you sniffle as post-coital clarity slowly comes to you, and your lust is temporarily pushed aside by your affection for cove. you gently comb a hand through his hair as your eyelids feel heavy.

“we’ll be like this for a while,” cove chuckles, cheeks flushed pink. “go to sleep. i’ll clean everything up once my knot goes down and when you wake up, i’ll still be here. we’ll drink and eat, and then we can keep going as much as you want. i’ll be right here.”

his words of reassurance and the gentle rumble of his chest as he speaks is enough to lull you to sleep, as if you weren’t already totally spent. and yet, the idea of going for more rounds sparks your excitement once again, and you can’t help how your pussy briefly squeezes cove’s dick, making him gasp. you chuckle at his reaction as you finally nod off.

ahhhhhhhh omgggg !!!!!!! 🙈🙈🙈

#crying shitting throwing up #omegaverse #olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove x reader #i wrote this #smut #cove holden smut

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starryevermore · 4 months

Text

celebrating you ✧ roy kent

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader

summary: you’re used to no one celebrating you. but roy proves to you that he’s not like the others.

word count: 1,486

warnings?: fluff fluff fluff, no use of y/n, not proofread

a gift for @captainsbestgal happy birthday bestie 🥰

Since you’ve entered adulthood, your birthday was never anything that you put a lot of weight onto. There was something different about adult birthdays, you supposed. Something that made people not want to put any effort into celebrating others. Or, at least, something made people not want to put any effort into celebrating you.

Ever since you finished school, it felt like you were pulling teeth just to get someone, anyone, to give you an ounce of attention and affection that they were ready to give to anyone else. Whether it be a promotion or a life milestone or your fucking birthday, it seemed like no one wanted to show up for you the way you would for anyone else. The way they would for anyone else. All of your friends would throw surprise parties and take each other out to fancy dinners whenever something great would happen. Your work would get balloons and a simple gift card for people’s birthdays. But for you? Crickets.

Anytime you tried to bring up the difference in treatment, people acted like you were out of your mind. Surely you understood that they had busy lives? That they can’t just drop everything at the tip of a hat? That these things take time, and energy, and coordination, and they don’t always have the capacity to meet those demands. And you understood! Really, you understood more than most. Often, you were the one playing host, or the one making incredibly personalized gifts, or the one just shooting a “Happy Birthday!” text when things got busy. You understood about not always having the capacity to show up. It’s just…Odd that you were the one who always got the short end of the stick.

Nowadays, you don’t even bother reminding anyone about your birthday or try to set something up on your own. It was too much effort, and too much heartbreak to see no one even care.

You expected this year to be more of the same. Nothing was particularly different, except that you had a boyfriend for a few months now. But the relationship was still new, so you didn’t expect Roy to do anything special for you. But, oh, you should have. The second you had mentioned in passing that you were taking a day off work for your birthday, Roy had a plan set in motion.

The morning of your birthday, you woke up to soft kisses being peppered across your face. Your nose wrinkled, slightly confused as to what was happening. But as you opened your eyes and saw Roy hovering over you, a goofy smile on his face, you couldn’t help but kiss him back.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” you asked between kisses.

“It’s your special day. Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?”

You pulled away for a moment, your brows knit together. This was…odd? Unexpected? But, also appreciated. “Well, aren’t I lucky, then?”

Roy kissed you again then got out of bed. You whined at the loss of warmth, reaching out and trying to pull him back into bed. He batted your hands away. “Nuh uh, none of that.”

“You can’t just wake me up with birthday kisses then take it away!”

“I can if I’m going to make you birthday breakfast while you get ready,” Roy said. But he leaned down over you and kissed you again. “Was planning on taking you to the zoo.”

Your eyes lit up. “Really? Oh my god, I love the zoo.” Then you frowned. “But you have work?”

“You’re not the only one who can take the day off, love. Now, c’mon, I got a lot planned for you today.”

You started to push yourself out of bed, watching as Roy started to leave to go get breakfast made. But, then you called out to him. As he turned, you said, “I really appreciate you.”

“Get ready to appreciate me even more,” he teased.

After getting dressed and eating a breakfast of your favorite foods, you and Roy headed to the zoo. You were beyond excited to go. You hadn’t been to the zoo in years, having been too busy with other aspects of your life. You had once mentioned in passing, months ago, to Roy that you were itching to go.

“I can’t believe you even remembered this,” you had said as the two of you walked around.

Roy turned to look at you. His brows pinched together. “Why wouldn’t I remember?”

You shrugged, pointing to a monkey that was swinging around. “It was so long ago. And it wasn’t really anything that was important. I mean, I barely remember what we had for dinner last night.”

“Yeah, but what you say is important to me.”

The way he said it, the way it sounded so definite, so sure, it made your heart squeeze. God, could Roy be anymore perfect? Was it not enough that he was completely devoted to you and handsome to boot? Did he have to so considerate? You leaned your head against his arm, smiling. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Roy take out his phone and snap a selfie of the two of you.

“Wait, I wasn’t looking!” you giggled as he pocketed his phone.

“But you looked beautiful.” He nodded over to a different habitat. “C’mon, I heard a kid shout that the lemurs were out.”

“Ooh, I love lemurs!”

You didn’t think the day could get any better than this. You were a bit surprised at how into the zoo Roy was. In some ways, you still had the public image of Roy painted in your head—all stoic, the traditional “masculine man”. The kind of guy that would grumble and groan at the idea of spending a day at the zoo. But Roy wasn’t like that. He was just as giddy as you, just perhaps a little less outward about expressing it. He let you pull him to every habitat you wanted to, pointing out a few that you missed. He took pictures of you—many candids where he called you the most beautiful woman in the world, as well as some posed pictures where he acted like you were walking the red carpet. Your favorites, though, were the silly selfies he would take with any animal that would wander near him. The day was so perfect. It actually made you start to like your birthday again.

As the two of you returned home, you couldn’t stop gushing about how amazing the day was. Talking about all the things you did. Roy didn’t even mind that you were talking about things he was literally present for. He loved your little recaps of the day, even adding on things that you forgot about. Perhaps if you hadn’t been so wrapped up in excitedly talking about the day, you would have noticed the giant grin on his face as he walked you up to the house.

“And, oh my god, the snow leopard! She was so sweet and—” you were saying as you unlocked and opened the door.

“SURPRISE!”

You jumped back, hitting Roy’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you, swaying you side to side as you processed that the entirety of AFC Richmond, Rebecca, and Keeley (and those guys who were always at The Crown & Anchor?) were standing in the middle of the living room. You looked up at him, your eyes wide. “Did you plan this?”

“Nah, just let all these fucking idiots breaking into my house,” he teased, kissing the top of your head.

Keeley ran up to you, throwing her arms around you. “You bet he planned this! I was practically shitting myself trying to keep it a secret, because, I was so upset you didn’t even tell me your birthday was coming up, babes! But I couldn’t even reveal I knew without revealing everything, and I think Roy would have killed me—”

“I wouldn’t have killed you,” Roy protested.

She waved him off. “Anyways, come in! You have got to see the cake Rebecca got you. It’s fucking gorgeous. I mean, something straight out of a magazine!”

Keeley grabbed your hand, dragging you into the house. As you were pulled away from Roy, you threw one last glance at Roy, a wide smile on your face. “I love you, you big softie!”

“Oi, don’t just go shouting that! I got a fucking reputation to uphold!” he laughed.

“So I shouldn’t post your selfie with the elephant?”

Will’s, who practically materialized beside you as if you were hiding in the boot room, eyes lit up. “Ooh, can I see that photo?”

Roy chased after you, growling lowly. “You’re fucking lucky it’s your birthday.”

You laughed.

Hmm. Perhaps you liked your birthday after all. All it took was someone showering you in the attention you deserved. Yeah. Yeah, you weren’t going to let Roy go after this.

#roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent x fem!reader #roy kent x female reader #roy kent x you #roy kent x y/n #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fan fiction #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fan fic #roy kent fic #roy kent fluff #starrywrites #starryevermore

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andy-clutterbuck · 1 year

Photo

Edgar Bradley | The Murmuring (2022)

#protect him he is so precious #Andrew Lincoln #Cabinet of Curiosities #Edgar Bradley #*#where can i get one #i want an adorable devoted bird loving nerd #i love birds too #HI CHIN DIMPLE #one day your lips will not make me want to bust through a wall like the koolaid man #but today is not that day #vintage intellectual dilf vibes #bout to make him choke on his scotch and have to take off his glasses all flustered #thank u netflix for such high quality footage to gif #the tip of The Nose™#want to keep him in my pocket to be safe

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petit-etoile · 6 months

Note

Prompt idea I am Soft™ for: the first time Prince Astarion kissed his knight *is dreamy over that AU*

a love that will last forever

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 5,422 content warnings: astarion is soft here and unlike his depicition in "everything i see" as he is younger, implied underage drinking ( setting appropriate ), references to tav being raised as a child soldier by gortash, tav is gender neutral other tags: alternate universe - royalty, character study, porn with plot, pwp, vignette, developing relationship, getting together, love confessions, mi.ssionary style archiveofourown: here. sequel: everything i see, everything i feel (you are my universe)

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack be added to the taglist here

summary: 4 times Astarion wanted to kiss you, and the one time he did.

i. You would recognize the sound of his laughter anywhere — a bubbling and bouncing symphony down the cobblestone walls of the Lower City. The prince passes by a different unsuspecting guard flanked by Karlach who is also laughing, but unlike him, she wears no disguise. She darts by you first, and then you’re sliding an arm around Astarion’s thin waist and twirling him towards you. He grips your shoulders and yelps from the force. His giggles abruptly stop as his arms wrap tighter around your shoulders. When you meet his gaze, Astarion’s flushes.

‘And who might you be running from, my prince?’ you ask, voice low.

Astarion stares at you with wide, guilty eyes. He’s wearing a disguise to hide himself so that he might parade around the city in peace. Once he recognizes you, the slight panic in his gaze dissipates and he smiles as brightly as he can. He smells like a cluster of aromas. Wines, smoke from the cookshops, and his own personal perfume that’s crafted for him to attract an ardent admirer. A gift from the sickly king. Astarion leans towards you distractingly, snorting carefreely as you support his weight.

‘My favorite knight,’ Astarion says breathlessly.

You contemplate your choices. You could drag him back to the Keep kicking and screaming and sequester him to his bedchambers as you were ordered to do or… Karlach stands away from you, idly shiftinging. She looks sheepish enough. On her back is her broadsword and at her hip is a small axe. You bite the inside of your cheek.

‘Your highness,’ you greet him.

‘Please,’ Astarion whispers vampishly.

You meet his eyes. He is so open, so honest with you in these darkened streets. He leans forward and brushes the tip of his nose against yours. It’s so out of character it catches you off-guard. He weasels out of your grip then with a hideous cackle. He grabs your hands and holds them in his and pleads with you silently, eyes earnest. Please let me pretend to be nothing for one evening … You trust Karlach to keep him safe.

‘Please,’ Astarion insists. ‘For me.’

You free your hands from his and reach for the knife at your hip. You unfasten your belt and slide it around Astarion’s lithe hips instead, buckling it and tightening it so that he’ll have it if he needs it. You ruck up his shirt so that it falls gracelessly to conceal the weapon.

‘Take care, your highness,’ you murmur. Astarion’s grin is nothing but teeth. ‘But do not allow me to catch you again this evening. There’s a Keep in the room calling your name.’

‘And if I want you to hunt me?’ Astarion asks softly. You do not reply.

Astarion backs away from you with reluctance, knocking into Karlach who starts snorting with laughter. You trained with Karlach. You learned the blade and the bow and the lance at her side beneath Enver Gortash’s careful tutelage. She is the only one you trust to keep the prince safe when you are not at his side, so for tonight, you will allow it.

This is a moment of victory for Astarion. Away from the Keep, he is free to be a boy. He wears no crown and bears no royal crest. He simply transforms beneath this freedom. This is something you can understand now that there is no longer a boot crushing your spine. If there is a moment where Astarion could laugh and drink without worry of his father’s council snatching away the fun, you would give it to him again and again.

You watch as Astarion anxiously fists the knife at his side, and for a brief moment, you regret your decision. He looks every part the charlatan he pretends to be as he shifts his weight to play at being a danger, and you hold your hands up playfully, glad that your heavy helm hides your smile.

You remember Lord Gortash’s words. A dog should not be soft. A dog should not know this affection.

‘Thank you,’ Astarion says. ‘I won’t forget this.’

You lean against the stone wall and turn your chin. You try to forget how handsome he looks clothed as an urchin, no longer weighed down by the finery and regalia of the Ancunin name. Your heart aches at how well he fits in with Karlach, at how well their laughter mixes as they begin darting through the streets once more. You wait until you can no longer hear Astarion’s song on the wind before you begin making your way back to the Keep.

Ser Thorm is waiting for you when you arrive. You aren’t sure how long you’re reprimanded for, or how you narrowly manage to avoid worse consequences but it’s worth it, you decide, when you stand watch over an empty room until the early morning. Astarion sneaks back in through a secret passage and opens his door behind you, and you stand still as a statue as he slides his hands around your waist to return your knife. His fingers hesitate, and your heart stutters. ii.

The castle is packed with lords and ladies, nobility and their children, and so much music that you cannot hear Astarion over a symphony of a hundred voices.

He looks like the perfect prince tonight. His hair has been brushed to perfection, his clothes measured so they fit him snugly, and his crown recently shined yet he dances with the Open Lord’s daughter with the most miserable expression on his face that he can get away with. Astarion had made you practice this waltz with him. Jealousy takes root in your stomach.

His father’s council has thrown a ball to commemorate his seventeenth nameday, and there are still many waiting for their turn to dance with their prince. They stand at the sides of the ballroom and coo as he twirls his partner, and no matter how hard you try to tune them out, their awe rings in your ears. You hatefully remember watching as he filled his dance card with name upon name until he realized it would be hours worth of trotting.

You’ve always prided yourself on how easy it was for you to swallow down your envy. Lord Gortash had done his best to rip it out of you, only allowing certain matters to still bring you a quiet sense of joy. You will never know what it is like to dance the Luskan Waltz with Prince Astarion of Baldur’s Gate.

You were not allowed to dance. It’s not something Enver Gortash ever trained you to do, nor was it something the crownsguard was allowed to participate in. Astarion had asked you desperately all morning between the maids fussing over dress and food, and you had denied him every time. You were meant to watch, to swallow your pride and your feelings. Denying him had made it feel as if your heart had shattered into millions of pieces.

Astarion looks as downtrodden as you feel, but when the Open Lord’s daughter peers at him wistfully, he smiles back at her with such finesse that it would be impossible to not believe that he was happy. The light of his smile never reaches his eyes, but those who dance with him will never understand that.

This malaise and ennui is not new to you. It is good that you wear a helm. No one can see how you press your lips together to keep from pouting.

The swell of the music comes to a decrescendo, and you watch Astarion excuse himself from the dance floor. He pushes past the other nobles clawing at him for a chance to speak with the crown prince, and he’s graceful with the way he denies them the opportunity. He pushes through an ocean of people to make it to you, but you don’t turn your head to acknowledge him as he grabs a fresh drink from the banquet table. Astarion holds the glass of wine out to you first.

‘Drink,’ he commands.

You take the delicate glass from his hand, careful to avoid touching himso that you might not pollute him, and lift your helm so that you might taste his Neverwinter red and wait. After a few heartbeats, you return his cup to him and he drinks his fill from the same place you drank yours. You close your eyes and pray the rush of nervousness goes away.

‘I’m bored,’ Astarion complains. He chokes down the rest of his wine and crinkles his nose in disgust. ‘This is the worst party I’ve ever been to.’

‘This is a celebration of your life, my prince,’ you say carefully. ‘There’s no better party to be had.’

‘Ha!’ Astarion snorts. ‘Haha! If it were you and I and our closest companions at the Blushing Mermaid, I’d be inclined to agree. But everyone here either wants to fuck me or wear my crown or both. I feel like meat.’

Astarion presses closer to you as if seeking your protection. He fusses with the dance card around his wrist, fumbling with it to count the names left. He groans and begins to reach for another wine before stopping himself. He looks at you, mystified, and runs his teeth over his bottom lip.

‘I need fresh air,’ he tells you. ‘Come with me to the balcony.’

‘As you command,’ you say. You allow him to pass.

‘It’s not a command,’ he pouts. ‘You could refuse if you wanted to, you know.’

You don’t know how to respond. You guide him away from the party as requested, and it’s easy to confess that the breath of fresh air is good for you. Astarion is unusually quiet on the balcony. The world is much different away from the music and the crowd, and you can’t help but feel despair as he stares across the distance at the Lower City. He flops onto a bench carelessly and reaches his hands upwards to the stars.

Your throat tightens. You don’t know what to say to make things better. To be truthful, you’re equally as frustrated as he is. What you wouldn’t give to slide off your armor, to match raiment with him, to dance to the violins and cellos as all others have. You sit on the ground next to him and peer between his fingers to watch the shooting star he’s framing with his fingers as it passes through the sky.

‘Make a wish,’ Astarion says, glancing at you. ‘I’ve already made mine.’

‘As you command,’ you repeat. His bottom lip trembles. iii.

When the Sickness of Spring breaks through into Baldur’s Gate, your first concern is the health of the prince. The crown had ordered the ports closed, yet somehow the mysterious disease had made it into the castle walls. The king remained safe, and yet…

You should have known better.

You are ambitious and resilient — yet every inhale of breath is like a thousand razors sliding down the flesh of your lungs, and your coughs are getting harder and harder to conceal. You are simultaneously certain you’re going to burn to death inside of your chain mail and that you are going to freeze to death.

Your skin is nothing but gooseflesh and you haven’t stopped shivering since you woke up. Your head feels as though it’s about to burst. You twist to catch your breath, but the world is spinning all around you through the small vision in your helm and you collapse in the garden instead of managing a tactful retreat. Astarion immediately rises from his game of lanceboard and rushes to your side, scrambling to pull you into hi slap and shove your helm off. His fingers are like open flame against your skin.

‘Help me!’ Astarion snaps at Gale.

It should be funny watching as they struggle to lift your body, but laughing makes the pounding in your head worse. You try to breathe carefully in and out of your nose as they work to carry you. No one steps in to help, too afraid of catching it themselves. You hope they’re taking you to a healer, but the first thing you notice when you’re able to open your eyes is the exalted extravagance of Astarion’s private bedchambers.

‘No,’ you say weakly. ‘Not here.’

‘It will be fine,’ he says, ignoring how you shove at his chest as he climbs beside you. ‘I’m an Ancunin,’ he adds. ‘We don’t get sick.’

That you know of, you want to say. You’re too tired to open your mouth and too feverish to stop him as he slowly strips you of your armor. He lets it clunk against the ground when he removes it then fights to force your limbs beneath his blankets. You want to tell him to go, to seek shelter elsewhere, but the smell of hm is comforting enough that you decide to be selfish.

For the first day of your sickness, you aren’t truly conscious. You occasionally hear Astarion and Gale’s voices through the fog of your stupor. Apparently Shadowheart and her Order have been working on a cure, and now that you’re sick, Astarion is more involved in the process. He struggles to pick up where his father’s council has slacked. He paces your bedside and when the others finally leave, he crawls in alongside you and hardly sleeps himself, torn between pouring over paperwork for potential cures and checking your pulse like Shadowheart taught him.

The second day of your sickness, you are aware of every single hair on your head. It hurts so much you spend most of the morning crying. The only relief for the pain comes when Astarion massages your scalp, rubbing his thumbs in tiny circles until you’re able to enjoy the touch without flinching. While you cough and choke, Astarion is as healthy as he can be. That knowledge helps you relax.

‘You are doing so well, my love,’ Astarion murmurs one night when he thinks you’re asleep. ‘If anyone can beat this, it is you.’

He continues whispering nonsensical things. He tells you about his dreams for the future. None of them involve the kingdom or the happiness of the smallfolk or the truth of the matter. When you try to focus on the sound of his voice, you realize Astarion is mentioning nothing but you in his soliloquy.

He proclaims that you will no longer be just a knight. You will no longer be away from him or barred from finding your own happiness. He says, it will be you and him and happiness until the end of the world. When you cry, you get to pretend it’s because of how heavy your chest is from the moisture in your lungs rather than the overwhelming desire that causes you to feel drunk. Astarion hushes you.

You feel the soft kisses he presses into your unwashed hair, and for the first time since this sickness overcame you, you believe him and his vows. Astarion holds your hands in his and sleeps nose to nose with you, and after two weeks of sickness when you’re finally able to stand, he takes you out to his private balcony so you can experience the fresh air and feeds you honeyed toast until you’re full. iv.

Years later, when Astarion is eight-and-ten, you come face to face with the man who sold you to the king. ‘Please,’ Lord Enver Gortash says disdainfully. ‘There is no need for your mutt to be here. This is a meeting between men — you and I.’

Years of servitude beneath Lord Gortash prevents you from meeting his gaze. You stare at your boots and try not to move a muscle. If you close your eyes for too long, you can hear steel meeting steel in practiced battle over and over and the sound of his voice as he dehumanized you. It makes the pit of your stomach feel bottomless with fear. You’re thankful that Lord Gortash only regards you coldly.

‘Do not presume to tell me where or where not I can take my Shield when I walk around my castle,’ Astarion says with mute irritation. ‘Do not forget who I am, Lord Gortash. I am not some slaver seeking to buy troops. I am your prince.’

‘I would never, your highness,’ Lord Gortash acquiesces. ‘Please, forgive me for speaking out of turn.’

Astarion appraises him. ‘I will consider it.’

You stand beside the door while they talk about the trouble brewing at the border. A rebellion is looming, or so Lord Gortash fears. Those in the Lower City are not pleased with how the Sickness of Spring was handled by the crown. Many had died, yet… Astarion’s father, the king, has not been well enough to see to the council meetings in years and Astarion ia not yet permitted by Lord Thorm to attend them in his stead. He was still a boy, Thorm said.

It’s so political that you feel as though you really shouldn’t be there. You were a mangy mutt who had been presented to the crown prince as hardly more than a child, and now you were delving into a world that you could never possibly understand. You too had been expressly forbidden from attending the meetings, though that order had come from Lord Gortash. He would not allow hounds to roam the halls in his presence.

Astarion hums and nods and listens to the information being presented. His body positioning is rigid, his spine straight, and he responds to everything Lord Gortrash says with a resigned annoyance in his voice. These were not men he approved of. Astarion hates them almost as much as he hates the parties, the lords and ladies that they so desperately wish he would marry so that he would no longer be a problem for his father’s council.

They talk, and they talk, and they talk of other things but you begin to realize why Gortash is really here. He is looking beyond Astarion and at you, and although you do not raise your chin to challenge his gaze, you know that you have repulsed him beyond repair.

Perhaps you were to chime in and offer your praises of Lord Gortash’s goodwill and outstanding, but you know more than anyone the kind of cruelty he has instilled in his gifts. He means to yank your chain and force you to bark, but you resist the only way you know how. You say nothing at all.

You are nothing but a mad dog, he told you once, and you will never learn what it means to be loved. On your knees and do not bark, dog. Your punishment awaits.

With the state of the city nowhere near perfected, Lord Gortash rises from his chair with feigned repentance. He bows his head to Astarion and then brushes past you with not a word spoken. Still, the ghost of his torment causes you to flinch away from him as he passes andyou’re met with the fiery blaze of Astarion’s disgust as he watches Lord Gortash leave. Once he’s stepped from the threshold of the door, Karlach joins his side mournfully and trades you a solemn, disappointed glance. Your collars have both been tightened this day, it seems.

You dare not wave goodbye to her, and she dares not say anything to you nor the prince as she follows behind her lord.

‘I hate that man,’ Astarion says darkly when Lord Gortash has left the hallway of the Flaming Fist. He turns to you, disgust on his face. ‘I should send a catspaw to slit his throat and be done with it.’

‘Lord Gortash has been a friend to the crown,’ you tell him quietly.

‘A friend would give aid to those who need it,’ Astarion says. He grabs your wrist. ‘I know what he has done to you and Karlach. I know of his fighting pits, and yet — ’

Astarion squeezes your wrist without thinking. His touch grows sterner and harder with every minute that passes. He is incensed, disgusted. You can tell by the way his hands shake that he cannot express his words well enough, yet he tries his best to reach out to you the only way he knows how. Astarion has never lied to you. You trust him more than anyone.

‘You have not looked at me since he arrived,’ he says mournfully. ‘He has taken your life and filled you with fear, and I cannot bear it any longer. Do you understand?’

You look at him shyly then. His piercing eyes are brimming with tears of frustration and anger, and his lips are twisted. He pulls you closer to him and then hesitates. He struggles, and you struggle too. These are waters you have never waded through before, and you are playing a dangerous game with which you have no experience. You do your best to hold your head above the grey ocean and seek your salvation in a halo of silver.

‘Let us go somewhere more private,’ Astarion says. ‘There is something I must speak to you about.’

‘Of course, my prince,’ you reply.

If only you knew what he had meant when he said those words. Your life, reverent, in his hands changed forevermore. v.

‘Please,’ Astarion says. ‘Tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t know any other way — ’

Astarion kisses you hurriedly, both of his hands on either one of your cheeks, and the touch is so overwhelming that you almost pull away. He takes your breath away and replaces it with something else: devotion and unwavering loyalty. You aren’t sure what possesses you to forsake your vows as you have, but you grab at him just as desperately and cling, a hysterical sob escaping your mouth before you’re stumbling into his bedchambers and the first thing you ask is:

‘Is this real?’

Astarion laughs wildly and grabs at you. He makes short work of your armor in no time.

But it isn’t until you’ve been shoved back onto the bed that you realize this isn't your imagination or some feverish dream. Astarion is crawling over you, and the expression on his face isn’t the typical pride and self-admiration that he normally wears. He is reverant and seeking, and you’ve never seen him look at anyone this way before. He slots his body nicely against yours and leans forward, kissing you again and pressing you further into the mattress until you feel like you’re falling.

‘Thank the gods,’ he whispers hoarsely. He nudges your nose with his. ‘I never thought it would end this way.’

‘My prince?’

‘Say my name,’ Astarion says.

He searches for something in your eyes, and your chest feels as though it’s empty. You watch your hand slide against his cheek and card your fingers through his thick curls and thank the gods that this is your home. You don’t know where you would be without him. You tremble.

Without hesitation, you say, ‘Astarion.’

It is everything your dreams are made of. You pull Astarion towards you for another kiss and wonder if the Lady of Love had heard your wish all those years ago and granted you this happiness. To be with him, to be his, to be allowed to dance and sing with him even if it was only in private.

Astarion smells like bergamot and rosemary, and though you can’t sink any further into his sheets, you’re overwhelmed by it all. You laugh, and Astarion laughs too. It’s all so intoxicating that you say it again over and over. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion . Astarion pulls at your clothes clumsily and you pause only slightly, grabbing onto his wrist nervously.

‘Do you mean it, Astarion?’ you ask softly, and he does hesitate. He looks so innocent about it you feel silly for asking.

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything,’ he says and encourages you to touch him.

You experience a lot of firsts tonight. Astarion teaches you to kiss, his thumb against your chin as he guides your mouth with his, and in truth, it’s a little strange the way he licks into your mouth with such interest your entire body goes warm. Once he’s had his fill of your lips, he finds your tenderest spots. There’s a place alongside your jaw that you almost purr when he pays attention to it, and it goes without saying that him nibbling your ear causes you to melt.

For all his bravado, Astarion’s hands stay relatively polite so you guide his fingers along your chest and waist and hips, stuttering when his fingers trace the inside of your thighs curiously. He chews nervously on his lip to the point where you kiss it to make better, and someone you end up kissing his chin instead of his lips, and he laughs like he’s drunk. His head falls forward onto your shoulder, and you find yourself tangling your fingers into his hair again.

‘You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment,’ Astarion says, shaking his head. ‘There’s no one in Faerûn that I want to do this with. I want to protect you, I want to make you forget, I want — ’

It isn’t real until you’re naked and he is too, and your body is pressed warm and flush against his. You admire everything that he has to offer. A svelte form with skin that pinkens easily when he flushes and that looks gorgeous when you suck a bruise against his clavicle. Astarion can’t keep his hands away from you either. He’s obsessed with the smoothness that your body has to offer, interested only in hearing soft little noises slip from between your lips.

It’s rather easy for him to do. Everything he’s decided to do with his mouth and hands has made you feel dizzy, from tasting the skin at your neck to sliding all the way down, making patterns against your stomach and hips and then at your very core. It won't do you any good to be shy about it, but it’s something you’ve never experienced before, something you never thought you’d get to experience with him .

‘This,’ Astarion says, rutting desperately against your hip, ‘is what I want. If I have this, I am willing to be a prisoner to my fate. Every day — Every night I have yearned for this, and now I have the opportunity to ask you to be mine.’

You feel a shiver run down your spine. Astarion always talks so much about whatever he likes, but it’s different now that his attention is on you rather than some unimportant soirée filled with the lords and ladies who sought to wear a crown. You turn your chin away in embarrassment, but he grabs your jaw and kisses you passionately.

‘I am not a summer’s child,’ he tells you. ‘I know what I want, and what I want is — ’

‘Take it,’ you say.

Astarion shakes his head, and you press your warm cheek against his and trail your hands down his spine, only feeling satisfaction when your hand is braced against the small of his back. Inside, you think but he has stolen your words leaving you only with your thoughts. He kisses you again and it tastes like heaven.

‘Give it to me,’ Astarion moans softly, pausing to bite at the pulse in your neck. ‘This isn’t…a prince who was bored so he found the first person he could… No, this is… This is what I want if it’s what you want.’

If you hesitate, you will destroy it. So you do not. You lick into his mouth and reach for his cock, shyly guiding him to that place between your legs. All you have to do is tell him that you’ve dreamt about this too, so you do, closing your eyes to avoid his expression. You’re afraid of what that honesty will bring.

You have a sacred vow, an honored bond, and to destroy that would be to destroy the covenant you have crafted. You are a Shield and a Sword, and he is the Crown Prince.

This is your world.

He is the only thing you have.

But as he sinks into you, inch after inch, you can feel him tremble in your arms. His moan is low and sweet in your ear, and just for you. The thought enchants you, mesmerizes you, fills your head with nothingness and happiness and you gasp only at the end when you and him have become one.

It’s easy to get lost in Astarion. He’s charming, a delight, the prime display of princely charms. But he moans while slowly frotting against you, a sound so sweet and unfamiliar, that you can’t help but cherish it. You toss and turn with him, weeping sweetly as he cradles the back of your hip in his hand to guide you against his cock as he glides into you, and you pull him closer and closer until there’s nowhere else for you to go.

‘Mine,’ he breathes selfishly, sliding his teeth against your jaw. ‘Please, please. Say it.’

‘Yours,’ you agree.

He blasphemes and caves as quickly as he started everything, rolling and pulling until you’re laying against his chest, one leg thrown haphazardly over his hip, while he continues to grind his cock into you lazily. He’s greedy with how often he gropes your skin, obsessed with how it feels to touch your waist and your hip and the curve of your ass. Your forehead presses against his, nose to nose. He kisses you. You watch as his eyes flutter closed and press your fingers against his lips.

His tongue darts out, and he laps at your fingers. It’s so shocking that you moan sharply, hiccuping against his arm, and chase your release while he murmurs encouragement into your hair. Astarion nibbles the pads of your fingers before jerking away from you, and you get to watch as his stomach flexes and he cries, his cum spilling prettily over his lower belly.

‘Gods,’ he groans.

His mouth is swollen and his cheeks are flushed, but he looks at you as though you have replaced Sune in the pantheon. Whatever care Astarion might have about the mess is promptly ignored as he kisses you sloppily, hands tenderly cupping your jaw, nose bumping yours. You hide the last of your moans against your palm.

‘You are incredible,’ Astarion tells you.

‘I am — ’

‘ — everything,’ he interrupts, dazed by splendor. ‘You are everything. Perfection.’

You press your tongue against your bottom lip and feel how swollen it is, and swallow the painful knot in your throat.

Astarion smooths his knuckles against your cheek. ‘I know what you must be thinking,’ he rasps, voice hoarse from your endeavors that evening. ‘ I am the Sword of the Crown, the Shield of the Realm, or whatever the bloody thing is. But that’s not all you are, not really. Gortash might regard you as a mongrel but you have never been nothing to me.’

‘I love you,’ you confess.

‘And I love you,’ he says with a half-smile. ‘I have ever since we met and… If this is what you want then I want it to, but I can never go back to pretending you are only a shield. You mean too much to me.’

It’s the first and last thing you’ve wanted to hear. To know that you are Astarion’s weakness, to know that you are Astarion’s strength… It is as terrifying as it is intoxicating.

Being in love with Astarion changes nothing about your job. If anything, it gives you more of a reason to follow as a shadow in the light. You seek him when he rises in the morning, and he seeks you when the moon hangs overhead. You attend his meetings, and slowly with a little uplifting, your fear dissipates.

It takes eight years to overthrow the council that has polluted the crown. It takes eight years to watch Astarion form a coy, playful persona to hide the softness that permeates his heart. It takes eight years for you to ascend as Sword and Shield to become the first Consort that Baldur’s Gate has seen. Astarion becomes King and it is like a veil has lifted, and for the first time since his birth, the people see peace.

That is —

Cazador Szarr raises his banner in rebellion in the winter of the year Astarion is crowned King, and the Shield of Dawn cracks beneath the weight of his Woe and Rhapsody.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #* et toi，et moi #anonymous #SORRY I POSTED THIS WRONG SO I HAD TO REDO IT #but this is my favorite verse you distracted me #this verse is my baby i kinda wanna ramble abt it but #TBH IM NOT SURE HOW INTERESTED PPL ARE.......#(i say as i reply to someone who is interested in it)

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g0ose-bumps · 6 months

Text

Soap Gets a Visitor

Soap and Ghost but cat edition™.

There was a cat staring at him from the halls of their base. It was sitting in front of his door and it's fur was a striped tawny brown. The size of it threw him off; it was shockingly massive for what looked to be a tabby. There was a hard glint in it's eyes that made it look remarkably human in its distaste.

Soap stares back. He rubs a hand over his eyes tiredly. It was a strange day when he was hallucinating indifferent cats right outside his doorway. Soap should really wake up now.

He wipes his face more vigorously and closes his eyes. Counts to ten and opens them. The cat was still there. This time it looked even more unamused at him. Feline features showing a minute displeasure in the way it grimaced.

Soap boggles for a second. If he wasn't dreaming then that meant there actually was a cat on base. He couldn't believe the balls on whoever brought the cat in. They were really pushing their luck. Aside from working dogs, animals weren't allowed and even then, Soap tried his hardest to avoid them. Dogs and Soap had never gotten along. The scars from his last encounter were just another reminder of that.

The bushy ringed tail of the cat swishes on the ground, thumping loudly at the flooring. The sound shocks him from his stupor and draws his focus to the black tip that was waving jerkily by his feet. The cat seemed to be annoyed at Soap's lack of attention on it and was handily showing him its ire.

Soap makes a quick decision. It wasn't every day he got to pet a cat, and despite Soap's poor relationship with dogs, he liked cats. They were more prone to giving him space and walking away when they had enough. And he couldn't help but have a fondness for them; they reminded him of a certain lieutenant of his afterall.

Soap furtively checks for anyone around. It would be best if there were no witnesses. He didn't want to get sent to latrine duty if he was caught. Soap just knew Price would do it if he had any inkling that he was going to let the cat stay with him till he found its owner.

It was only going to be a couple hours anyway and it was better for everyone if he had the cat in his room. He couldn't let the animal roam around the base unattended.

The sergeant crouches down and offers a hand. The cat only wrinkles it's nose and backs away from the hand.

"Yer a tough customer." He chuckles softly. "Ye remind me of someone I ken." He tells the disinterested animal.

It pauses, yellow green eyes tracking him curiously.

Soap grins and withdraws his hand. "Curious now?" A tail swishes impatiently. "Aye, ye are aren't ya." He replies back teasingly.

The cat gets up and stretches, it's mouth opening to show off its teeth in a large meandering yawn. Soap felt he could relate. He'd been wakened by scratching at the door. According to his beside clock, it was 0400 hours. Too early for anyone not on a night rotation to be up.

Ghost would be up though—albeit on duty. Soap was a little tempted to go and find the man. See how he'd react to the animal. Soap wasn't sure if they'd get along. Ghost liked dogs, but that didnt mean the reticent man would like cats too. Maybe the cat and Ghost would get into a cat fight and hiss at each other; it was a possibility.

Soap widens his door open and scoots back a few steps, crouching down low to encourage the cat to come in with low pss, pss, noises. He holds out a hand just in case the cat decided to rub against it for pets.

The cat only wrinkles it's whiskers and saunters through the door, pass his outstretched fingers. It had the sort of feline grace that was inherent to all cats (and a ghost) that made it seem like they owned the place and was only deigning to come in cause they felt like it and not because you wanted it to.

Soap was already halfway in love.

Despite the dimness of his room, it jumps neatly on Soap's bed, nudging around his sheets for the best spot to lay in. The cat seemed eerily focused on the bed. Soap couldn't help but find it a bit strange. Not that he had any experience in this exact circumstance, but usually animals tended to investigate new areas first. Though it did made sense if the cat was someone's pet and thus, was already used to the general layout. The sergeants room was just a basic copy of every other private room available.

The cat wiggled around some, deciding to lie in the exact centre of the bed. Soap snorts. "You're a demanding one, aren't ya." He sighs, a little helplessly. Warmth spread across his chest like weeds sprouting in pavement. God help him but he always did like the hard to please type.

Soap closes the door quietly. He carefully creeps up to his bed, wanting to see if he could pet the cat. With each step closer, the cat straightens up from its sprawl. It's ears flicks back for a moment and then eases. "I'm nae gonna hurt ye." Soap murmurs softly.

For all that the cat invited itself in, it seemed to be wrestling with itself in whether to flee or not. Closer up, he can see the fine scars that ran the bridge of its nose. It's eyes appeared to be set in a permanent glare. Soap was struck by the resemblance.

"Ye really do remind me of Ghost." Soap tells it wonderingly.

The cat freezes and it's ears flatten out showing the white spot on the backs. Soap manages to get one step away from it and lays a hand out near its mouth. He knew he was gambling. Leaving his hand vulnerable to bites was something only a fool would do. But some instinct of his told him he just had to be patient and outwait the cat.

It's white jaw twitches as if it wanted to bite. Soap waits. The cat bores a hole into him. There's a weighty pause, both of them seemed intent to wait and see what the other did first.

Soap thinks. It seemed to like hearing about Ghost, maybe talking about him would help.

"Ghost was like this too with me." He says.

The cat's orange tinged face scrunches up. "He was!" Soap argues. "He didn't like me talking to him at all." A wry grin forms on his mouth at the memories.

"But I wore him down." Soap inches closer against the bed, one finger touch away from the cat's scarred face. It's long whiskers twitches and it's eyes were dead set on him.

"Yer a bonnie one." He whispers to it.

The cat freezes. Soap takes a leap and strokes the side of its striped cheek. It was so soft Soap wanted to cry. At the touch, the rigidness of the cat melts away. It's tensed muscles unclench, visibly relaxing.

Soap does it again. A deep purr erupts from its chest, eyes closing blissfully as Soap rubs the base of its spotted ears.

"Yer just a big softie underneath the scars." He whispers, more to himself than anything. The words pour out like the fingers that ran a line down the curve of the cat's spine. It's back arched to follow his hand. He could feel the thick muscle and scars that hid beneath the striped fur. It's purrs going deeper still, vibrations shaking the white tuff on its chest.

The cat's striking eyes shut, caught on the bliss of Soap's careful hands.

Soap shifts despite himself, a pained exhale coming from his throat as he moved. His kneeling position by the bed was starting to hurt. The cats eyes open at the sound of Soap's pained grunt.

It got up shakily and walked to the far corner of his bed, away from Soap. "No, don't go." Soap pleads. He wanted to keep on stroking it's soft fur, but if the cat didn't want him to then he'd better give it some more space.

He gets up onto his feet and makes to move away. A plaintive meow stops him in his tracks. He turns to see pleading yellow eyes stare back at him. The cat seemed to want him to get on the bed and pet it some more.

"So demanding. Just like The Ghost." He grins. "Don't tell him I said this, but he's just a needy big guy like yerself. Ye both soak up attention like yer starving for it." Soap muses.

The cat's tail lashes at the remark. "Ach, don't be so mad." He shushes, coming closer to the bed and sitting on the side. "It's not's a bad thing—" Soap swings a foot carefully on to the bed. "Being needy that is." He finishes softly to the cat.

"I wish Ghost needed me more." Soap confides.

The cat's paw raises as if it wanted to push him away. It's all tensed up again, a hunch rising on its back. "It's okay." Soap croons. A hum grows from his throat. He shuffles closer, sheets ruffling up under his movements.

"We all need some love in our life." He lets a couple fingers hover near the cat's face. The cat stands dead still, it doesn't even appear to breath.

Soap rubs the top of its head near some of the scarring. Motor boat purrs stutter and start, sounding more like an engine than feline. It was shockingly loud. Even the cat looked surprised at the intensity.

He was beginning to think the animal wasn't anyone's pet, or at least not any longer. The cat didn't seem used to physical affection. It was scarily alike Ghost in all ways. Soap could tell that just like his lieutenant, those fine scars on its face and body went far deeper than the physical. It seemed simultaneously too confident and skittish with human contact.

Soap continues his mission to have the animal melt into mush. He carefully massages behind its ears and strokes underneath its chin. It seemed to like it. It's purrs taking up the whole room. The cat relaxes even more, going from solid to liquid. It resembled a lazy puddle more than an alert predator. Soap's heart swells until it feels fit to burst. The cat liked him!

Soap gets comfortable on the bed, fully enraptured by the animal sprawled out on it. The cat yawns again, it's eyes drooping in its apparent tiredness. Soap felt tired too. It was just so nice—having company right next to him, so warm and alive that wanted his affection.

His hand falters. He yawns. His eyes shut close. Everything felt like a hazy dream. If only Ghost was here, it'd be perfect. Soap could already imagine it: a nice cottage out in the countryside, a cat slinking around, going as it pleased and a gravely voice and an even more gravely body to cuddle up to. "Wish Ghost was here." He rambles to it tiredly. "I'd think you'd fall in love with him too." Tiredness draws heavy eyes shut.

"Just like I did."

Darkness chases his eyes. The sound of purrs drowns the rest.

Soap sleeps.

—

Soap wakes up. He was lying on his bed over the covers. Strange. Wait. The cat. Where was the cat?

He looks around, trying to catalogue any sign of that bushy black tail but to no avail. He gets up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and checks his closet and underneath his bed. Still nothing. He checks to make sure the door was closed. Yup. Closed. His clock beeps at him shrilly. Shite. He had to go.

Soap readies up to go, making sure he got his boots on right and his sheets tucked properly. The cat would have to wait. If it was even there at all. It might have been all some dream of his. Though if it really wasn't a dream, the cat wouldn't have been able to leave his room without being able to suddenly open a door knob with no opposible thumb.

Regardless, he was going to be late if he dawdled longer. He rushes out of his door, not wanting a lecture from Price. Soap only got three metres from the doorframe before slamming right into something solid, large and black. Ghost.

"Sorry Lt." He chokes looking up, embarrassment colouring his cheeks pink. Ghost looks at him oddly. Something about his heavy gaze made the man appear vaguely embarrassed to Soap. Perhaps it was the visible squint in the lines around his eyes. Ghost had decided to forgo eyeblack this morning.

Ghost grunts at him.

"Ye happen to see a cat anywhere, sir?" Soap rubs a hand back his neck nervously. "Big tabby with a black tip?"

Ghost stiffens. "No." He barks agrivatedly and leaves. Soap is left watching the rapidly retreating back of his lieutenant.

Soap blinks. He could've sworn he saw the man blushing at what he said in the brief look he managed before the man beat a hasty retreat. There was a heavy red on the visible patch of skin. It was a noticeable departure from the sallow colour of the man's skin.

Did Ghost somehow know the cat?

One thing for sure, Ghost knew more than he was saying.

Soap was going to find out what.

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cvntrlseecvntrlvee · 4 months

Text

— JUMP THEN FALL (INTO MY CAULDRON FULL OF HOT STRONG LOVE) - ISSUE 01

when trying to unearth hogwarts' resident Golden Boy™ seungcheol's secret girlfriend, leads to the proposition of a lifetime

★ PAIRINGS: seungcheol x fem!reader

★ GENRES: fluff, humour, angst

★ AUs: hogwarts!au, fakedating!au, gryffindor!seungcheol

★ WORD COUNT: 1.9k

♫ title is from taylor swift's 'jump then fall' and celestina warbeck's 'a cauldron full of hot, strong love'

★ ★ ★ A/N: hello! ahhh, it's happening!! shoutout to @hannieween for litterally being THE most supportive person and to em for putting up with my new year call and letting me voice act the entire story out. here's the first part, let me know what you think!

happy reading!

EXTRA EXTRA! IS LOVE BREWING FOR OUR RESIDENT HOGWARTS HUNK?

“Wallflower! Do you have the prints from the choir tryouts?” Soonyoung Kwon was perched on a piano bench in the back of the newsroom, the green and black necktie tied around his head, flapping like a flag in the wind every time he moved. “I want Beth Cloddington vomming front and center of this week’s issue,” he said, sticking his hands out in two Ls and looking through them like a camera.

In front of him was a rolling chalkboard littered with half-finished articles on one edge, the other covered in pieces of ripped parchment, tips from fellow students. In the center, a mock front page with the words The Whomping Whistler in all caps across the top.

Soonyoung threw his head behind his shoulder, “Wallflower!” he yelled, the tie whipping him in the face.

You popped around the corner, “Hold your thestrals Hoshi!” Tossing a tray of photos down next to him. “You want to see her vom,” you ask, rifling through the stack, “or just her about to? I’ve got a few good ones.”

Hoshi wrinkled his nose, “Do you have one that cuts out right before?” You find the one you were looking for with a small aha! before handing it over. “Perfect. This is gonna be just perfect,” he mumbled, tacking the photo with a quick spell right under this week's headline, ‘Daylight Sabatoge or Deadly School Lunch?’

“We’re going to be ready for print soon, yeah?” you said, as you stuck your wand in your haphazardly twisted bun. Soonyoung may be the Editor-in-Chief, but your deadline was hard approaching and it made you anxious nonetheless. Hot gossip only stayed hot for so long.

Soonyoung pursed his lips, “It’ll be a close call, still waiting on the rest of the quidditch leaks-oi, Pudding! Eta on the quidditch rosters?” There was a loud noise in the corner as 4th year Raveena Patil appeared from underneath a pile of old issues of The Daily Prophet, a mane of curly black hair framed her face and a pair of black wire-rimmed glasses sat crooked on her nose. She shrugged and Soonyoung rolled his eyes before huffing and turning back to you.

“The Gryffindor team is really where the news is anyways and Dino brought us that today, something about losing one of their beaters this year. We should get it printed tomorrow.” He ruffled his frazzled beach blonde hair, adding, “Hopefully?” when you sent him a questioning look. Although, if anyone could hit a headline, it would be Raveena.

Raveena Patil was a headstrong, highly ambitious, and downright terrifying, 4th year Ravenclaw. After a crucial tip led to the start of the publication during her first year, she’d proven herself to be the Whistler’s prized possession. The eyes and ears of Hogwarts they called her. Not a single secret could get past the likes of her.

Raveena was also next year’s shoo-in for Editor-in-Chief.

With both you and Soonyoung in your 7th year, slated to leave after your N.E.W.T.S., Raveena was the perfect person to keep the show running in your steed.

“You know what I think it’s time for?” says Soonyoung, turning to you with a slightly crazed look on his face. You shook your head, worry creasing your forehead, “My dear Wallflower, it is time for,” He paused for dramatic effect and you prayed to Merlin he didn’t say speech— “a speech!” He exclaimed, throwing up jazz hands.

You groaned. It was nearly 2 am, and even 4 cups of Nocturna Brewery’s double-caffeinated coffee wasn’t enough to get you through one of Soonyoung’s sleep-deprived, erratic, pump-up speeches.

Soonyoung shoves the photo tray over and you catch it before it clangs to the floor.

“Alrighty team!” He bellows, jumping up on the bench, “Gather ‘round and listen up!” Raveena crawls out from under her pile and the rest of your small rag-tag team ambles on over.

“It’s the first week, and I want us to start strong.” Soonyoung threw his fists out, pumping them with vigour. “The first issue will be good, but I know that we can do great! Remember what they say,” he pointed at the group, “it is not men who do things! But doing it makes them great!” You winced, that was not at all how the saying goes. He had the right energy though, as everyone around him cheered.

”You cannot manufacture men any more than you can manufacture gold!” He roared. There were hollars from the team and you thought it was about time to reel him in. You grabbed his arm and hoisted yourself onto the bench too, earning more hollers, and even some whoops.

You started, “When we first started this publication three years ago, we had no idea how big it would become. None of that was possible without you all!” There were jeers and whistles, and a few Let’s go Wallflower! “Everyone, great work tonight! But I think we’ve earned some sleep. Hands in everyone!” Everyone rushed forward, trying to get closer, as you and Soonyoung stuck your hands in front of you in the air, “To greatness!”

“To greatness!” They all cheered. You clambered off the bench holding a hand out for Soonyoung. He hopped off with a stumble, tucking the tie that fell in his face behind his ear.

“Can you hang back for a bit Wallflower?” You nodded confused, as Soonyoung waited for everyone else to pack up and leave.

Once the newsroom was empty, sans the two of you, Soonyoung swung towards you with a devilish smile on his face. “I have a special mission for you Wallflower,” he said in a sing-song voice.

You groaned for the second time that night, “Please don’t tell me you still think they’re growing cannabis in the greenhouses, I swear on my camera they’re not.” The smile slipped off his face.

“What? No? Y/n, that was so last year,” he said, exasperated.

(It was not. He’d asked you to look into it literally on the first day of school.)

Soonyoung looked around the room, making sure there was truly no one else left, before dropping his voice down to a whisper yell, “I have it on good intel, very good intel,-” Code for Raveena, “that Seungcheol Choi has a girlfriend.”

Soonyoung looked at you with fired-up eyes, a smirk grazing his lips.

You blinked, and Soonyoung blinked back before his smirk started to slowly slip off his face. The silence was deafening.

You cleared your throat, “Okay . . . and?”

There was another pause.

“Okay AND?!” Soonyoung shrieked. You wince, throwing up your hands to cover your ears.

“The, the Seungcheol Choi has a girlfriend. We have to be the first to break the news and,” He booped your nose, “you, my dear Wallflower, are going to figure out who the lucky girl is. Then you’re gonna get a picture of them kissing.” He started backing up before you could even protest, picking up his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Y/n, this is going to be our biggest story yet, I can just feel it.” You shook your head, a whiny no begging to slip past your pout. “One picture love, that’s all I need,” He said sticking a finger up, before switching to a finger heart.

“Get some sleep, you’re gonna need it!” and with that, he was out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. With a sigh, you started gathering your things, sorting photos and parchment into separate piles.

Seungcheol Choi’s girlfriend. You weren’t sure where to even start with that one. However, Soonyoung was (unfortunately) right. It would be huge if you snapped a picture of Hogwarts’ resident golden boy with a partner.

But how? Were you supposed to follow him around everywhere? You shook your head, grabbing your camera off the table and checking the room one last time before turning out the lights with a swift Lumos.

It’s not like you hadn’t done it before.

Last year, Raveena had been tipped off that Trixie Prewett was fooling around with Keerthy Ramaswamy. No one would’ve batted an eye if it weren’t for the fact that, after multiple years of being on the receiving end of each other's curses in Dueling Club, they were ‘sworn enemies’ and ‘rivals to the death.’

You’d followed Trixie everywhere, trying to catch her in the act. It wasn’t too difficult with her also being a 6th year Ravenclaw, but it did make your free time nearly non-existent for a whole week. How were you supposed to do that with a Gryffindor boy?

It was also going to be harder to do during a N.E.W.T.S. year, especially on top of manning most of the photography for the Whistler.

Maybe you should've started Dino on photo duty earlier.

“It’s obviously Azkaban, A-Z-K-A-B-A-N, Azkaban!”

“Hoshi, how the fuck is a 4-across clue Azkaban,” the two of you were sitting in the great hall, this morning’s Daily Prophet in front of you, opened to the crossword.

“Oh, uh, okay. Let’s try a different one?” said Soonyoung before shovelling a forkful of pancakes in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously.

You looked at him with disgust before going back to the crossword, “7-diagonal, scarlet leather ball?”

Soonyoung swallowed before answering, “Easy, Basilisk, B-A-S-I–”

“Merlin, that is not how you do these.” You wanted to bash your head against the table. Or maybe Soonyoung’s. Last night hadn’t resulted in very much sleep after heading back to your dorm, lying awake most of the night, head churning with thoughts of a certain Gryffindor.

You stare across the Great Hall, eyes landing on the said boy, Seungcheol Choi. He was flanked on either side by his fellow Gryffindors, and best friends, Jeonghan Yoon and Joshua Hong. Seungcheol was leaning over Jeonghan’s shoulder, as the latter furiously scribbled something down, while Joshua sat quietly reading a book, only moving to steal grapes off of Seungcheol’s plate and pop them in his mouth.

“So, do you have a plan for Operation Golden Boy?” whispered Soonyoung.

You yelped, jumping nearly three feet in the air. “Bloody hell, what the fuck Hosh,” you hissed smacking him back with your quill and rubbing your ear. “And for your information, no, I don’t have a plan. I’ll just, I dunno, make like a dragon and wing it?”

Hoshi grinned, “That’s my Wallflower!” You tried grinning back, but it came out more like a wince.

The truth was, you didn’t know much about Seungcheol. Well, you knew as much as anyone would after spending the past 6 years together at a boarding school, but you were in different houses and ran in completely different circles, your paths didn’t really cross much.

Not sure if you could call him your resident it boy, but Seungcheol sure was the everything boy of Hogwarts. Prefect in year 5, Quidditch Captain in year 6, and now, he’s Head Boy. On top of that, he’s class topper in nearly all his classes, tutors 5th years gearing up for their O.W.L.S., started the big buddy little buddy system for an easier transition for the first years, has led the Save-the Flobberworms campaign for five years in a row at Hogwarts, and the few times you’d spoke to him, he was super nice. If you asked anyone else at Hogwarts, they’d tell you some iteration of the same thing.

You sighed before folding up the Prophet and shoving it into your bag. You’ll figure it out. After all, how hard could it be to get a photo of a 17-year-old boy sucking face with his girlfriend?

★ ★ ★ A/N: the two quotes hoshi attempts are "It doesn't take great men to do things, but it is doing things that make men great." - Arnold Glasow and “I fear uniformity. You cannot manufacture great men any more than you can manufacture gold.” - John Ruskin

i knoooo this is wasn't much seungcheol, but i promise he's coming!! and it'll be worth!!!! seungcheol is ltierally the bestest boy in this but i wanted y'all to get a taste of hoshi before you forget about him 😭

#seungcheol x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fic #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol x reader #my writing #writing #fic recs #band: svt #member: seungcheol #author: cvntrlseecvntrlvee #title: JUMP THEN FALL (INTO MY CAULDRON FULL OF HOT STRONG LOVE)

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