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claudemblems · 5 months

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A Kiss to End All Doubt | Albert Moriarty

Summary: When you agreed to tag along with the Moriarty brothers to a grand ball, the last thing you expected was to receive a noble's offer of marriage. Thankfully, Albert plays the part of your lover well, perhaps a little too well for his affectionate words to be fake...

Content: SFW. Fem!Reader. 3,723 words. Pining. Soooo much romantic tension. Albert is a flirt and no one is surprised.

Notes: I have been writing this fic for what feels like forever BUT IT'S FINALLY FINISHED :3 I'm so excited to finally give this to you. I hope you enjoy it 💖 I may also add an epilogue if there's an interest for one...🤭

Did Albert Moriarty, one of the many faces of the Lord of Crime, truly not have the slightest idea of the effect he had on you?

It was silly to even fathom that a man of his stature could be so oblivious, but you couldn’t help but start to wonder once he started giving your flushed cheeks and wide eyes a quizzical look.

That, or he was playing coy with you, which wouldn’t be all that surprising coming from him. He’d long since mastered the art of making noble ladies go weak in the knees.

But that was a skill he’d acquired out of pure necessity. If he had things his way, he’d refuse to give the stuck up women of the nobility the time of day. Unfortunately, he had a role to play in all of his brother’s plans, and so he continued flirting with the noble ladies just long enough to leave them wanting more.

You, on the other hand, were no noble. In fact, you had no good fortune, distinguished education, or marriageable prospects to speak of. Truly, you were nothing but a mere face hidden amongst the shadows, which was perfect for an assistant to the Lord of Crime.

You’d begun to empathize with Albert’s disdain for these royal functions, mainly the lavish balls he and his brothers had little choice but to attend. It was important for them to keep up appearances as a well-rounded noble family who knew how to mingle with the upper-class, whether they enjoyed doing so or not. While they seemed to have gotten used to it for the most part, it proved to be quite the difficult adjustment for you. Thankfully, Albert had patiently taught you the ins and outs of noble life, giving you lessons on small talk and etiquette whenever time permitted.

However, he hadn’t yet taught you how to handle a nobleman’s advances.

“You must be Lady [Name],” the man greeted, holding out his hand for you to take. You briefly glanced towards Albert, taking his nod as a sign to follow through with the gesture. A kiss was placed onto your hand before the man let go, stepping back to better admire the exquisite sights around him. “It’s quite a splendid ball, isn’t it? There’s so many well-mannered and intelligent guests in our midst, such as you, young Lord Albert.”

“Lord Darnley, you are far too kind,” Albert said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing. “I ought to be extending the compliments to you. Your presence here is most welcome, as well as that of your entourage. Would the girl you brought with you happen to be your little sister, Lady Georgina?”

“Ah, I see you’ve made sure to memorize the names of all the guests! Indeed, she insisted on joining me, and no matter what I said, she refused to take no for an answer!” Darnley bellowed in laughter, briefly drawing the attention of the other guests nearby.

“She already seems to be quite the free spirit. I’m sure she has a bright future ahead of her.”

“If you’re so interested in my dear Georgina, I would be more than willing to sit down and discuss a potential marriage between the two of you.”

You swore you saw a flash of disgust appear in Albert’s eyes, but he simply smiled brightly at Darnley, careful that his emotions did not look fake or contrived. “While your offer is certainly generous, I have no plans of marriage at the moment. I’m afraid I’m already plenty busy with my service in the royal army.”

“Ah, what a shame,” Lord Darnley sighed, but his disappointment quickly turned to anticipation when his gaze once again fell on you. Your stomach lurched at the look in his eyes, but you tried to retain your composure, copying Albert’s mannerisms by offering a surface-level smile.

“Lady [Name], I am supposing you are not yet married if you’re attending this function with the Moriartys.”

“That would be correct, my good sir. How astute of you to notice.”

Lord Darnley grinned at the news like a hunter mere moments away from ensnaring this prey. “Well then, my lady, is there anyone that has asked for your hand yet?”

Goosebumps ran down your arms as you swallowed thickly. Anyone with a right mind knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

“I…well…” Should you tell the truth? Should you lie? But then who would you say had expressed a desire in marrying you? “It’s…complicated.”

“So, that would mean no formal question has been posed then, correct?”

“...Correct.”

You heard Albert’s feet shift next to you, on guard for whatever preposterous idea this nobleman could come up with next.

“Well, it’s certainly not good for a lady of your standing to be without a husband. I, myself, am quite the romantic, and I believe a courting period fosters a genuine love between both parties involved. If you have no one currently vying for your hand, perhaps you’d offer me the chance to earn it.”

No. No. On so many levels, no.

But this wasn’t about you—your happiness or married life did not come before the liberation of London. Whatever the brothers asked of you, you would adhere to their words, even if it meant having to be stuck with a man such as…this. Though you knew they’d never even entertain the thought of offering you up to some man who cared only for your beauty and status and nothing for your heart. If you were to refuse Darnley’s advances, at the least, you were confident the Moriartys would respect your decision.

Even so, you didn’t want to cause any more trouble for them. If you couldn’t agree to the idea of marriage, perhaps a date or two would suffice, right?

Just the thought made you feel sick.

“Well, what do you say, my lady? Will you allow me the pleasure of courting you?”

You knew you had to keep up appearances. You couldn’t allow for cracks to show in the perfect and amicable facade the Moriartys had carefully crafted. You knew that well, and yet…

This was a proposal that not even death itself could bring you to accept.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I must sincerely refuse.”

Lord Darnley stared at you in alarm. “Come again? You didn’t just say no to my advances, did you?”

Your heart rate quickened as his words grew heated, and in that moment you wanted nothing more than to take off and hide somewhere safe and quiet in the manor’s garden, away from other people who might come up with even more ridiculous propositions.

“It’s just as you heard, my lord. I must decline.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Lord Darnley stared straight into your eyes, not blinking for several long moments. Your hands had begun to shake as you feared that you’d just begun tarnishing the reputation of the Moriarty family. Truly, there were fewer things more terrifying than a nobleman who felt he’d been insulted, and the consequences for such an offense would be nothing short of dire.

“Lady [Name], you are in no place to refuse my offer. You said yourself that no other man has even brought up the idea of marriage to you! Are you truly so brazen that you would reject the prospects of a life in union with mine? We all know who makes the decisions around here, and they’re certainly not made by women—!”

“My good sir, I believe you’ve said quite enough.”

A small gasp left your lips as Albert sneaked a hand around your waist, still carefully holding his glass of wine in the other. You searched his face for an answer as to what he was scheming, but he simply smiled—a true one this time—wordlessly reassuring you that all would be well.

“You see, Lady [Name] may not have received an offer of marriage as of yet, but that is only because I have been quite busy protecting our beloved country. I wish to propose when I am able to be at home more often and thus can fulfill my duties as a devoted husband to my wife. So I must politely ask that you rescind your offer, lest you make yourself seem as though you chase after taken women.”

Propose? Husband?

If you were afraid of tainting the Moriarty image, Albert clearly didn’t share your concerns.

“Taken? Why, I—! You’re bluffing, Lord Albert! You’re not planning on marrying this woman!”

“And what has brought you to that incorrect conclusion?”

“If that were the case, you would have brought it up the moment I asked if she were single!”

“To be fair, you asked if she’d received an offer for marriage, not if she was currently available to court.”

You could practically see the steam coming out of Lord Darnley’s ears, his face growing redder with each passing minute. He was still unconvinced, and for good reason, too, but you weren’t about to let Albert’s kindness go to waste.

You placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder, smiling up at him as he redirected his full attention to you. “It’s true, my lord. My affections have been reciprocated by my dear Albert, and I am patiently waiting for him to ask me to marry him. It will be a proposal I shall readily accept.”

Darnley scoffed, a hand placed over his heart in disbelief. “And you had the gall not to tell me when I’d begun to question you? Either you’re a terrible liar, or you’re just hoping to humiliate me in front of all these guests!”

“I would never dream of deceiving or insulting you, my lord. I should have made my relationship status clear to you earlier. Please forgive my carelessness.”

“I still think this is some elaborate hoax the both of you are trying to pull off. If not to tarnish my good name, then to convince every noble here that you’re worth the status bestowed on you at birth.” Lord Darnley swiped a fresh glass of wine off the tray of one of the waiters walking by, the man watching in horror as the lord downed all of the liquid in one gulp. His cheeks had started to take on a flushed hue from the great amount of alcohol he’d consumed that night, and with the way things were going, he was sure to be drunk by the end of it. “Perhaps, Lady [Name],” Darnley continued, a lopsided smirk forming on his face, “you’ve been lying about your social status, and you’re hoping that your marriage to Lord Albert will secure you a place in the upper class.”

Anger surged through you at his utterly ridiculous theory. Darnley had unknowingly gotten one fact right: you were a nobody. When you’d been taken in by the Moriarty family, you had nothing to your name but pen, paper, and the clothes on your back. But you knew one thing for sure: you had worth as a human being, and no one, noble or otherwise, would be able to change that.

And marrying a noble for status? What a laughable suggestion. As if you’d stoop so low just for some so-called “honor” among the elite.

“Well, dear sir,” you began, discreetly hiding a smirk behind your gloved hand, “I had no idea you were so foolish as to even come up with such an inconceivable thought. I once held you in high regard as I’ve heard many within the nobility sing your praises, but your current behavior is quite unbecoming of a person of your stature.”

You heard Albert try, and fail, to stifle a laugh next to you. You quietly breathed out a sigh of relief to see that he’d chosen not to reprimand your strong words. If anything, he seemed eager to encourage them.

As Lord Darnley frantically signaled for a waiter to bring him more wine, Albert took the opportunity to lean down next to your ear, whispering a simple yet heart-pounding question, “[Name], would it be all right with you to play further into these roles of enchanted lovers?”

Your breath caught in your throat, butterflies beginning to form in your stomach. “Of course,” you said. If only you knew how I truly felt, you wouldn’t even need to ask.

He smiled down at you, a sight that only stirred up the butterflies even more, and pulled you closer against him. Meanwhile, his eyes bored into Lord Darnley’s frame, darkening with every passing moment. If there was no one else in that ballroom, you had no doubt Albert would have leapt at the chance to get rid of him.

When Lord Darnley had finished downing another glass of wine, his fiery countenance returned to you and Albert. “You both are frauds,” he spat. “Everyone else here might be too dim-witted to figure it out, but I’ll make them aware that you’re not the upstanding moral characters you believe that you are.”

“It’s a shame to hear such vile thoughts coming from your own mouth, good sir,” Albert sighed. “But if I must be honest, I don’t care what any noble in this room thinks of me or the house in which I rule over.”

“Oh? And why is that, good sir?”

“Because,” Albert answered, turning his body towards yours, his visage noticeably softening when his focus returned to you, “the only person I want to please is the woman I adore. Not one person in the nobility is worthy of praise or merit—no one but her alone.”

Setting aside his glass, Albert gingerly took your hand in his own, meeting your eyes to silently ask for your permission. At your nod of approval, he lifted your fingertips to his lips, placing a gentle and almost reverent kiss against them.

“I love her,” he said, his sweet gaze reaching the very depths of your soul, “and when the time is right, I will make her mine.”

His words were like a match igniting the fire blazing in your heart, the flames fed by your deep affections for him, growing with every beat that thumped in your chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand came to rest against your cheek, his touch so light yet so dizzying, more intoxicating than any wine you’d had that night.

Albert searched your eyes as all the feelings you’d tried to keep at bay finally came pouring in like waves. You were sure he could see it all: the admiration, the yearning, the love you’d kept locked away. But somehow he’d managed to find the matching key, the truth you’d been hiding for all these years finally at his reach.

His fingers traveled along your cheek and down to your jaw, this thumb tracing patterns against your skin. You were still dazed from his words to Darnley, but you brought yourself to meet Albert’s gaze once more, curious to see what truths you could uncover in his own expression.

And you wished you hadn’t, because when you saw the affection so clearly present in them, you wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until the night turned into day.

Albert wasn’t oblivious, and you knew it. Whatever people thought of him as—a genius, a young prodigy, a man of great knowledge—his ability to read people was beyond the average person’s comprehension. And you knew when he’d finally figured out what the person he’d been surveying was hiding. His lips would quirk upwards ever so slightly, the dimples on his face just beginning to show, and he’d cock his head to the side, pleased with his findings.

And that was exactly how he was looking at you.

You’d placed your heart out in plain view of his observant eyes, and he’d figured you out. But now that he knew of your feelings for him, what was he planning to do with them?

Albert’s thumb drifted from your jaw down your lips, careful not to brush off the lipstick staining them. He stared at them for several moments, deep in thought, before he returned his eyes to yours, a single question hidden within them.

May I?

Already breathless, you squeezed his hand once, closing your eyes as Albert leaned in painstakingly slowly, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation. This was the moment you’d only been able to imagine in dreams, on nights where you sat wordlessly under the stars, silently wishing upon them in vain. They couldn’t grant you your desires. They couldn’t give you everything you ever wanted. You were the only one with the power to seize your opportunity and make your own wish come true.

And as Albert’s lips finally fell on yours, you smiled.

Your greatest wish was being granted right before your very eyes.

His lips tasted faintly of wine, and the subdued scent of his cologne still lingered on his collar. Combined with the warm and comforting touch of his hand cupping your face, your senses were overwhelmed in the most wonderful of ways. It felt as if you’d begun to float, brought into a fairy tale-esque trance where the entire world grew still except for you and Albert.

Time had stalled to allow you this moment of pure, undeniable bliss that not even the corrupt powers of this world could take away from you.

With his lips still on yours, Albert’s hand snaked further around your waist, gently pulling you closer against him. You practically had no room left between the two of you, and so in a moment of boldness, you placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, right above his heart. Even through his suit, you could feel it beating wildly.

It only made you wonder: did he truly mean what he’d said earlier? Did he really harbor such affection for you? Did he really intend…to make you his?

Before you could ponder anymore, Albert finally pulled away, cheeks faintly dusted with rose. He appeared somewhat dazed himself, but he kept his composure, still well aware of where the two of you were at the moment.

But this time when he turned to Darnley, he smirked, practically beaming from head to toe with delight as he spoke. “Well, Lord Darnley, do you believe us now?”

If looks could kill, both of you would have succumbed to that man’s rage.

Darnley’s hands gripped his wine glass so tightly that it shattered onto the floor, the remnants of wine staining his once perfectly polished suit. Other nobles stopped their conversations and turned to him upon hearing the commotion, a few of them even pulling out handkerchiefs.

“Sir, let me get you a new glass,” a waiter spoke, holding his hand out to take the broken one from him. But Lord Darnley was already fuming, and he shoved the waiter to the side, smashing the rest of the wine glass against the floor.

“You will pay for this,” he snarled. Sending you one final glare, he turned on his heel, marching out of the ballroom, hopefully never to be seen again (at least for the night).

“Well,” Albert breathed, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering us anymore.”

“You’re right…Thank you, Albert.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, gaze drifting back to yours. “I’ve done nothing to warrant your gratitude.”

You shook your head. “You have, Albert. You didn’t have to step in and save me from Darnley’s advances, but you did, even though doing so could have tarnished your family name. I’m indebted to you.”

Albert frowned ever so slightly, and you cocked your head to the side, confused. After a few moments, his gaze flickered to the people dancing around the room, his cheeks still tinged a beautiful red. “If you thought I was doing all that just to be a gentleman,” he murmured, “then I don’t know what it would take to make the truth clear to you...”

Well, suddenly you were the one left blushing.

“It’s not that. I…I don’t want to assume anything more, not when you’re such a precious person to me. I’m just scared of ruining what we have between us.”

Albert turned his attention back to you, using the hand that was still on your waist to pull you close to him again. Taking your other hand in his, he lifted it up to his lips, your faces now just mere inches apart.

“And what if I were to say that I do want something more?”

You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

But you still felt the press of his lips against yours, took in the smell of his cologne, and memorized the touch of his fingers running along your cheek. It was not a dream. It was even better.

Albert leaned down next to your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. “If one kiss isn’t enough to convey how much my heart yearns for you, then allow me to kiss you until you’re breathless, and no more words of doubt are left on your tongue.”

Albert smiled as your face grew redder, and with the way he bit his lip, you knew he was struggling not to comment on it.

“For a noble, you sure lack any semblance of shame, Master Albert."

Albert shook his head and chuckled to himself, that mischievous glint having once again returned to his eyes. “Keep teasing me and you’ll find out just how shameless I can be, darling.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Do you want to find out?”

Despite your flustered state, you couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing Albert’s hand tighter in yours. “If you want to kiss me so badly, do so in a place that’s actually romantic, will you?”

Taking you by the hand, Albert began to lead you outside of the ballroom and into the rose gardens. “Of course, and I’ll take my time to make sure I kiss you properly.”

You made a mental note to thank William and Louis for letting you tag along to the ball. If all went well, they would end up becoming your own brothers-in-law, after all.

But that could wait until you finally had Albert’s affections all to yourself.

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #albert moriarty #albert moriarty x reader #kat writes #IT'S FINALLY HERE #Honestly I'm so happy with this one :3

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captainfern · 5 months

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UR NEW PRICE DRABBLE??? PRICE CALLING READER MAMA LORD 😫😫

(Need someone to write a fic w vocal!ghost and he calls u mama...)

that someone is me

18+, fem!reader, pregnancy+babies mention

you’d already given simon one child, sleeping soundly in his cot in the adjacent room, the baby-monitor on and so far peaceful. but did you really think simon wanted just one kid?

he’d make an entire army if you let him lol, but for now he’ll take it one step at a time. your health and safety is paramount, so however many babies you were willing to have was the amount he’d be absolutely smitten with.

and the two of you agreed on baby number two, meaning simon took his job very seriously— seriously in the fact he had you on your back, a couple of pillows propped up beneath your hips, rutting his cock into you until you were releasing a constant string of whimpers.

“that’s it, sweetheart, doing so well for me,” he praised quietly, large hands on your hips as he fucked you. his fingers traced the stretch marks along your skin, groaning at the sight of you beneath him. “my pretty wife…”

you moaned, trying to be quiet since your 8 month old son was resting in the next room. the loudest noises you were making was the slick, wet sounds of your cunt as simon rutted his cock into you deeply.

you clenched around him with each tap of his cockhead against your womb, and he groaned low in his throat. the girth of him stretched you open so well, and you could feel that one prominent vein on the underside of his dick dragging against you. his pelvis knocked against yours with each of his timed thrusts, and he took it upon himself to move one of his hands downward to place his thumb against your clit.

he rubbed neat circles, timed with his thrusting, watching with a glimmer in his eyes as you arched off the bed, whining. he smiled, moaning around it, watching away the soft curves of your body and your stretch marks shifted with your movement.

“you’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he cooed, snapping his hips harder. you choked on a sweet moan of simon—! as he continued to hit your sweet spot with the leaking tip of his cock. he grunted when your cunt fluttered around him again, his stomach flipping and balls pulling tight as his orgasm drew nearer. he deepened the circles on your puffy clit. “my pretty wife. always so good for me.”

you whined, eyes rolling as the head of simon’s cock continued to bully up against the plug of your womb. his fingers on your clit sent static pleasure through your entire body, shaking beneath his large body, your own orgasm bubbling up inside you.

and it was much the same with your husband. the closer he got to coming, the more he thought about you pregnant again— swollen with his kid, a beautiful curved belly that he could splay his large hands across on the daily.

the thought had him moaning, snapping his hips harder against you, almost shunting you up the bed.

“that’s it, mama, good fucking girl,” he uttered, your pussy squeezing his cock again, pushing a deep moan from his chest. he fucked you with his mouth agape, the point of his tongue against his lower lip. “taking me so well in this tight— ah, fuck— tight pussy.”

you moaned, hands fisting the sheets beneath you, your orgasm building heavily in your lower tummy, sweat layering your lower back. finally, you came, clenching tightly around your husband’s cock and gushing around him, moaning another sickly-sweet simon! as you trembled beneath him.

simon groaned. “fuuuuck, that’s my girl. good girl, come ‘round my cock, just like that, fuck—”

he removed his thumb from your swollen clot, gripping both of your hips now as he slammed into you, orgasm clouding his mind and pulling almost painfully tight in his lower abdomen.

“m’gonna fill you up with my cum ‘til your leaking with it, yeah? might have to go plug you up with something to make sure it takes, hm?” he whispered to you, making you shiver and whimper. he smiled down at you. “yeah, make sure it takes, mama. make sure i fill this tight fucking pussy ‘til it takes. get you all fat with another kid.”

before either of you know it, he’s coming inside you, buried to the hilt with his hip flushed against yours. he moans loudly, body jerking against you as he emptied his cum against the base of your cervix, babbling into your ear and leaning over you to kiss every patch of exposed skin he could.

“f-fuck, so fucking good for me, mama, so fucking good. my good girl, my g-good girl. i love you so fucking much.”

#yeah #captainfern #captainfernsalutes #simon ghost riley #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty #cod smut #ghost cod smut

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tarot-archives · 25 days

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been thinking about what if laios didn’t leave the army?

it was difficult for him but where else will he go? he doesn’t want to go back to his cold village. he can’t be with his sister who loves the magic academy. what place will accept someone like him? he’s alienated everywhere and was always an outcast.

after completing his training, he was sent on a rescue mission. some rich girl was taken, so some important guy (a king or whatever) hires a group of soldiers to save her. turns out, she was a princess and of course the impossible mission was defeating a dragon.

cliche right? honestly, from stories like those, laios always cheered for the dragon. he doesn’t care to be a dragon slayer, but here he is now inside the abandoned castle where the dragon kept its most precious jewels. all of the soldiers have died, save for him with his monster knowledge. only this time…

“please no! don’t hurt him!”

…the princess didn’t need saving from the dragon. laios was about to deliver the final blow had the princess not stopped him. after a few minutes of begging and crying the princess explained her situation. she had raised the creature ever since it was smaller. she thought it was a lizard at first until it grew. and it grew. and it grew. even when she released it into the wild, the dragon always returned sooner or later before she shoos away again.

she kept it a secret for so long, but she had to leave her kingdom since she was betrothed to some rich older creepy dude seeking a new wife. in the first night, the princess screamed for help when her ‘husband’ tried to force himself to her. her cry for help was heard by her dragon (who apparently tailed her to the rich guy’s mansion) and killed him on the spot. in panic, upon realizing the soldiers will kill the dragon, she rode its back and flew away.

now here she is, begging in front of laios not to kill her beloved companion. she doesn’t want to go back to the kingdom who sold her to a wealthy man. it might happen again. she held laios’ hand, pleading to think of some kind of plan to save her without killing him. the princess doesn’t want any more bloodshed.

this wasn’t a fairytale. the princess needed to be saved from the people. the dragon was the one protecting her. and laios wasn’t some prince or holy knight to slay something he wanted to know more about.

laios had nowhere to go. and for the first time in a long while, he had wanted something for himself— he wanted to live with a dragon too. he was envious of the princess who supposedly ‘tamed’ a ferocious creature. how did she did it? can he do it too? where can he find a dragon egg? ah, had this dragon been female she might lay an egg or give birth and he’ll raise it as his own and be some dragon tamer. falin will want to see the dragon too. can he fly on the dragon’s back to the magic academy?

eventually, all three of you managed to escape. the princess was reported to be dead and so was laios who had left his armor to be burnt.

request? open

#laios touden x reader #laios x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #yey! i see more laios fics :))

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stinkysam · 8 months

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Buggy the Clown - So no head ?

Warning : nsfw, mouth fucking

Genre : smut

Synopsis : "One thought that won't get out of my head about Buggy, in the scene where he keeps annoying everyone/scaring Usopp while he's making explosives, what if the reader decides to "give the guys a break from the annoying clown" by going on a walk with him, but really it's just an excuse to get some time alone with Buggy and uhh get some head, pun intended ;) Bonus points if reader promises to return the favor once Buggy gets his body back." -anon

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : Part TWO

-cis women dni-

Today had been a tough day for the clown. Spending most of it in a sandy bag or with unfriendly captors.

"Hey ! Morning champ !" Buggy laughed as Zoro arrived.

"I know Luffy made a deal with you to find Arlong, clown, but if this is another one of your tricks-" Zoro warned.

"What are you gonna do ? Bleed on me ?" The clown said, laughing again before Zoro grabbed him by his bandana to hold him above the sea, ready to throw him out.

"Whoa, whoa, wait, whoa, whoa, whoa ! What ! Because I said bleed on me ? You can bleed on me if you want ! I mean, a deal's a deal, all right ? You want your map back, I want my bodyyy." He quickly spat, laughing once more.

"How do we know you're not leading us to a trap ?"

"Zoro, buddy, honors amongst pirates, right ? C'mon I can sing a nice sea shanty to pass the time ! Ooh there once was a girl with tangerine hair," unbothered Zoro moved back toward the barrel. "Stole my map and left me stranded somewhere, truly a crafty and crooked young lass," Usopp opened it for Zoro to put him inside. "But you can't deny she had a spectacular- Aw ! Right on my nose !" He yelled as he fell inside the barrel before Zoro closed it.

If only it had stopped there. But soon he was put back in the dark and humid sandy bag. Ew. Really ? Couldn't you or someone on the crew dry it a bit ? He's not asking for cushions and blankets, you could at least put him somewhere not sandy. No ? Ugh. Boor.

Then, later, his abuse, as he would call it, continued.

He watched as Usopp worked on his explosives, hands shaking as focused to not spill anything.

"Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, BOOM !!" The clown yelled, laughing as Usopp jumped, along with everyone in the room.

"Yeah I'm gonna get some air." Nojiko announced as you watched her leave.

"Can you just… be quiet ?" Asked Usopp, hoping to get some peace. He was clearly stressing out of his mind.

"Aw, come on. Where's the fun in that ?" The clown teased, enjoying himself as Usopp's hands shook more. "Do you really think your little toys can get through the skin of a fishman ?" He asked quietly, his eyes never leaving him.

"These are smoke bombs."

"Smoke ? That's rich… Makes me think of how long it's been since I've had any smoked fish." He gulped, imagining the taste in his mouth. God, he was so hungry.

"Maybe if you guys had some extra ?" He looked at Sanji. "Please ?"

You watched them, waiting for any of them to get him something but none moved.

"Ah, screw you guys ! Arlong's gonna bite the shit out of you anyway ! You know you don't stand a chance against him and his army. And you dumb pieces of garbage, you ain't gonna do anything against that stupid- mmhf mh" before he could continue Sanji had pushed a full tangerine in the clown's mouth, shutting him up efficiently.

"New guy shuts up the clown head."

Buggy tried to cough it out, to say something but couldn't, struggling with the fruit in his mouth.

"Okay, enough." You said, getting up from the table and pulling the tangerine out of Buggy's mouth, ignoring Sanji's and Usopp surprised stare.

"Puh ! Thanks handsome." He said with a wink, clicking his tongue after stretching his jaw.

"Let me take care of him. You're coming with me."

"I'm gonna eat ?" Buggy said with wide excited eyes before squinting them at you.

"Kinda."

"What are you planning ? What's your deal." He asked, suspicious. All of the strawhats avoided him, already annoyed by him before even having said something, even the new guy couldn't stand him anymore and suddenly one of them was down to keep him ?

Smells like bullshit to Buggy.

"Yeah, [Name]. What's up ?" Usopp asked, no longer focused on his explosives.

"You guys are clearly on your toes around him for whatever reasons so I'll keep him, I don't care."

"Whatever reason ?" Repeated Sanji.

"Why ? [Name]." Usopp asked, confused.

You shrugged.

"I like him. He's fun."

"You hear that boys ? I'm fun ! Clearly a taste you lack."

"He's fun ?" Repeated Usopp, frowning. Really, he wasn't getting it.

Buggy smiled and laughed loudly as Zoro walked back inside with Luffy.

"What's going on ? Why is it laughing like that ?" Zoro asked.

"It ?" Buggy said, immediately stopping laughing.

"[Name] wants to keep the head." Usopp immediately answered, speaking over the clown.

"[Name] said he likes him." Sanji added, making you scoff. These two…

"Look at him, he's all cute." You said, grabbing his head to rub your cheek against his. You and Buggy smiled together awkwardly with your teeth showing, wide eyed, as if you were trying to smile for the first time ever. Was that your way of trying to be convincing ?

Zoro and Sanji raised an eyebrow while Luffy and Usopp tilted their heads to the side.

"C'mon, guys, he has nobody, no body and stayed in a sandy bag, I would've been bored out of my mind as well. And pissy as fuck."

"He gets me !" Buggy said. A little bit more and there'd be fake tears as well. "And I'm not pissy ! I'm angry and hungry, I haven't eaten in-"

"Can't believe you're taking his side." Zoro simply said, ignoring him, crossing his arms.

"Well, call me too empathetic because I'm gonna care for the sad clown."

"Don't ignore me ! And I'm not a sad clown ! But I'm about to be ! Do you know the last time I ate something ?!"

Zoro hummed while looking at you, still ignoring him, he clearly wanted to say something more but deciding against it. He rolled his eyes and walked away. If you wanted hell then, who was he to stop you from getting it.

"Hey ! Stop ignoring me !"

You turned to face Buggy's head, he had a toothy smile, clearly forced and awkward.

"Don't overdo it or you go back in the sand bag."

"Ugh." Buggy grumbled, his smile falling, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Where are we going ?" He asked as you carefully held him up.

"Outside."

"Ah ?"

"I'm going to teach you how to be quiet." You said with a grin, ignoring your friends' confused stare. What did you mean by that ?

Buggy raised an eyebrow before a smirk invited itself on his face.

"Oh yeah ? And how are you gonna do that ?" He said as you exited the house.

You walked a bit, not too far from the house in case they still needed you but enough to be out of earshot and stopped. You sat down and placed Buggy next to you as you grabbed a tangerine.

He watched you, staring intently as you peeled it. Getting rid of the small white strings on it and opening it in small pieces.

"Here." You said pushing one piece against his lips, waiting for him to open his mouth. "This isn't smoked fish but that'll feed y-" you didn't have the time to finish your sentence that he was already eating it up.

"Don't care !" He said in between bites.

Buggy sighed as you made him eat the fruit, finally putting something in his belly after a couple days of not eating. It wasn't much but at least it was something.

"Hey, that's mine !" He yelled as you took a bite, the fresh juice flooding your mouth.

"My hands feed who they want. And right now, they wants to feed me."

"Oh come on ! I've been good ! Sweetheart !?"

"Okay, okay. You've been good." You said, patting his head as he tried to move it away.

You pushed the piece of tangerine back against his lips and he wasted no time eating it. Fearing you would take it away.

"I just wanted a taste, I'm not gonna steal it from you." You said with a small laugh.

"Coming from the person who stole my map, that's rich."

"Your map ?" You looked at him, amused at how he still called it his when it never was to begin with. But before he could retort, you pushed another piece of tangerine in his mouth. He glared at you, debating whether he should try to bite you or not.

"Why are you feeding me anyway ? Not that I'm complaining." He watched you eat another bit of the fruit, sucking the juice in before chewing it.

"Told you. I like you." You said nonchalantly as you poked his forehead. One of his eyes twitched.

"Like me, huh ?" He couldn't believe you.

"Yeah you're cute." You continued, without hesitation as you smiled at him. He stared at you and for a second he was glad his body wasn't there or he would've fallen into pieces at your comment. He tried to regain his composure, clearing his throat and looking away while you still stared at him.

"I don't know if I would call myself cute bu-"

"Why wouldn't you ?"

Your question caught him off guard as he looked up at you. The answer seemed obvious though. His nose. Big round red nose right in the middle of his face. Hello ?

But he wouldn't tell you that. He's not gonna open up to you -or anyone- in the middle of no-fucking-where.

You grabbed his head so you would be face to face and tilted your head.

"Why wouldn't you be cute ?" You repeated. You had to be fucking with him. He chewed the inside of his cheeks, unsure of what to say or do. If he was more than a head he'd push you away but right now he couldn't do that. Only able to stare at you and be glad his heart is too far away for you to hear it beat loudly.

"You seemed upset when Luffy tried to touch your nose, is it about that ?" You finally asked and he looked at you with wide eyes. You better be careful with your words becau-

"I think it's a really cute nose." You said with a grin. "I like red."

That's… not what he had expected. Usually people laugh or grimace at his nose, they don't look at it as if it's… a good thing ? He blinks several time. He wants to retort something mean but nothing comes to mind.

"Can you put me down ?" He asks instead. You hum and do as asked, placing him back next to you.

You continued to give him the tangerine, taking a bite every now and then.

"Aahh" He opened his mouth, waiting for you to give him the last bit. You gave it to him and he thanked you while chewing it, glancing your way awkwardly. Shit, now he didn't know what to say.

"I'm not gonna give you head."

"What ?" You laughed, unable to believe you heard him right.

"Just because you fed me and complimented me doesn't mean you'll get to fuck me."

"Aw, bummer, I was looking to it." You said, still smiling.

"Well. You won't. Plus I'm just a head, so…"

"Buggy. Head." You said staring at him, hoping he'd get it.

"Yeah ? And ?"

"You're exactly what's required to give head. A head. Literally." You said and he stared at you.

"I'm still not gonna give it to you !"

"I wasn't asking ! I was just saying !"

"Aah !" He yelled, frustrated with the conversation and you laughed. "Let's stop talking about it !"

You nodded and stayed silent, your lips still curved into a smile. A minute or two passes before he talks again.

If he had a body, he'd be tapping his feet and pacing.

"Fuck now I can't stop thinking about it." He grumbled.

"Yeah me neither." You stared at each other unsure of what to do.

"Well, you have the dick, I don't, so… get on with it !"

You quickly got up and grabbed the head, pressing it between your legs.

He rubbed his face against your groin, using his nose to nudge against your growing hard on. He generally would've hated to use his nose like this, but he had no other choice, his hands being so far away and unable to touch you any other way. Your humming encouraged him to continue, wanting to hear more of your noises. Feeling your dick twitch inside your clothes against his skin.

You quickly pushed your shorts and your underwear to your feet and Buggy gulped as he breathed loudly at the sight of your dick standing up right in front of him. He looked at you for a second, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features. He was only just a head, after all. Wouldn't he need his hands to please you as well ?

"You're gonna do great, Bugs." You reassured him. "All I need is your mouth right now. And you clearly know how to run it."

He nodded and you smiled, caressing his face before pushing your thumb in his mouth. When you pulled it out, you let your thumb rub against his lipstick, smearing his make up more than it already was.

"C'mon, just get to it already !" He barked, making you snort.

You grabbed his head, pushing the tip of your cock inside his mouth, past his teeth. Feeling the wet and warm walls of his cheek against your sensitive skin.

His eyes never left yours as you slowly moved him up and down your length.

Your whole dick was inside him, tickling the back of his throat for a few seconds, resting there. You could tell he was trying not to choke with how his eyes shone with tears. His round nose was pushed against your pelvis.

"Good boy…" You cooed, voice slightly shaky. "Takin' all of me."

You pulled out and he let out a big huff, exhaling loudly with his tongue out. You wasted no time and pushed it back in with your cock. Making him hum in surprise.

"Ahh…" You let out, closing your eyes as your head hung back. You began to move Buggy's head faster, your hips rocking against his face with his chin pressing against your balls.

You could hear him choke on your dick, trying to breathe or to cough, or both at the same time. But you didn't stop, only to let him breathe from time to time.

Heavy strings of saliva connected the inside of his mouth to your dick as you pulled out, letting him inhale before pushing yourself back in. Making him choke loudly.

"Not- not too loud, or you'll get us caught. Is that what you want, Bugs ?" You breathed out and his eyes widened. The idea of possibly being caught lit something in him. Both wanting and dreading for this to happen.

You could hear the rest of the crew talk loudly and laugh inside the house, blissfully unaware you were fucking the head.

One noise too loud and they would know. Curiously looking outside for the source of it as he gags and chokes on you.

God, he didn't want you to stop, he wanted you to continue and use him as you please. Which you did, fucking his face roughly, smearing some of his make up onto your own skin.

You kept using his mouth as you moaned quietly, you could feel the flat of his tongue move against your cock, rubbing along the veins.

You slowed down despite wanting to go even faster, not wanting to cum just yet. Wanting the pleasure to last a little bit longer.

You allowed Buggy to regain some of his composure, breathing loudly as if he had been drowning. He coughed and cleared his throat loudly while you sighed.

"Fuck, love, you really don't play a-" You didn't give him the time to finish his sentence, pushing back his face against your dick for him to lick. Which he did.

You moved his head slightly to help him lick all of it, from your balls to your leaking tip before pushing yourself back inside his mouth, all the way in. This time he didn't gag.

While one hand remained behind his head to keep him in place, the other gently caressed him under his red and white bandana. You started to move when he tried to swallow around your dick, squeezing it deliciously in his warm embrace.

You found back your old pace rather quickly, fucking his mouth and his throat carelessly while he tried to suck more of it.

You came in his mouth, hot semen shooting down his throat as he choked trying to swallow it without biting your cock off. You remained still for a few seconds, his face pressed against you as you caught back your breath before pulling him out.

He coughed, spitting on himself a little bit as he regained his breath. He looked at you with tears in his eyes from choking so much, trying to blink them away. You helped him, gently and carefully wiping his eyes, grimacing as you smudged some of his make up.

"Oops."

"What ? What is it ?"

"Nothin'"

He huffed and you brought his head to your face, pecking his cheek delicately.

"I'll repay you, I promise." You said, pulling your shorts back on.

"You better ! I'm left all hot and fucking bothered here !"

In Arlong Park, some of the fishmen laughed at the sight of Buggy's body. Not because they found it particularly funny. Although it was. But because they noticed the tent in the clown's pants with wet stain as his hands struggled in their restraints, clearly wanting to do something about it but unable to.

#male reader #m!reader #buggy the clown #buggy the clown imagine #opla #opla x male reader #opla imagine #one piece live action #one piece live action imagine #opla buggy #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece x male reader

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lidiasloca · 8 months

Text

delicately (cassian x reader)

summary: when cassian meets reader, he doesn't think past her privileged life. but what if there is more behind her appearance? what if, who she really is, is meant to meet with him on a cold night at the court of nightmares for a reason?

warnings: mentions of abuse.

(angst)

part one

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

You enter the revel. Music vivid and people joyous. Not exactly how you are feeling.

Your dress is thigh enough that you have trouble breathing, and your heels are making your only task to be not trip over in front of everyone. Besides, of course, your life-long task; don’t embarrass your father, and don’t put shame on your good name’.

“Walk straighter,” your father tells you, walking next to you. You obey, of course, and say nothing. Like always. “Keir is expecting me to agree to some plans of his. While I am with him, you will stay in our table. Don’t go anywhere else, and talk to only those worth our time. Understood?”

You nod.

…

You suppose a revel could be considered fun, depending on who you asked. The ones dancing, for instance, seem to know how a good time looks like. Feels like.

But as you are siting silently on your chair, with no one else around the table, you know you aren’t one of those people. You are just people watching; at least that’s how you have always felt.

You were watching as your father shouted at your mother. You were watching as he insulted you. You were watching as he decided who you’d eventually marry. You were watching as he gave you orders on how to not do anything he wouldn’t do.

You always just watched.

A loud laugh makes you snap back to the present. A very loud laugh, one that feels genuine. You turn your head to find the General of the Night Court. ‘A bastard-born’, your father had told you. ‘We want nothing to do with him,’ he had ordered.

But he had said nothing about staring. And he is… well, worth staring.

The General is still laughing at what a beautiful blond girl is saying. You recognize her to be Morrigan, Keir’s daughter. She is wearing a beautiful red dress that… shows. You hate thinking like that, judging her -or any female- for the size of their cleavage, but your father had told you… No.

You weren’t your father.

Sick of this whole place and your own mind, you stand up and start walking to the closest terrace. Remembering his orders, you can only pray your father will take longer with Keir wherever they are.

After a minute of seeking and finding the crystal door, you are finally greeted with the cold chill of the night. And the terrace is deserted, thankfully.

You go to the railing and rest your hands atop the steel, sighing. You feel more calmed now; you don’t mind the loud music, or the laughter, or the drunken shouting, but… but sometimes it feels a bit too much when you’re not part of any of it.

“Are you not cold?”

You jump at the voice, which is deep enough that it comes across as scary, at least if you’re backwards to it. You turn to it and find in front of you the General of the Night Court’s armies.

‘A bastard-born nobody. We want nothing to do with him’.

No. “Who are you?” you ask.

The male grins. “You don’t know who I am?” At the obvious cockiness in his words, you smirk shyly, moving your gaze to the floor.

“I - I do.” You looked up again, meeting his hazel eyes. “But I don’t know your name,” you replied, mustering your tone to be flat, neutral, despite not feeling like that at all.

“Ah.” And then silence.

“Are you not going to tell me your name?”

“I asked you a question first,” he smiles, finding your confusion amusing. When you keep silent, he says. “I asked if you were cold, y/n?”

Oh. “How do you know my name?”

He chuckled, the sound so beautiful, so real. “Are you going to keep asking me questions before answering mine?” he jokes, shaking his head. “Didn’t your oh so rich and powerful father taught you manners?”

Taught you manners? Your father?

It’s a joke, you know it, but still… You turn to the railing again, needing suddenly something to hold you in place. He probably thinks you’re stupid, but you need to calm down, steady yourself from the memories that are appearing violently and uninvited into your mind.

“No. I’m sorry,” he tells you nervously, walking to your side. “I - sorry. I was joking. I didn’t mean it as an insult. At all.”

“I know,” you make yourself say, because you don’t want him to feel guilty, misinterpreting the situation. You definitely wouldn’t care if he talked badly about your father. You would most definitely join him.

“Oh, then what is it?”

You close your eyes against the now too cold air caressing your face. Goosebumps raise on your arms. You are cold.

“I am cold,” you finally answer his previous question, and it’s obvious for the two of you that you’re ignoring his new question.

But he lets it go. “And I am Cassian.” You move your eyes to stare at him, at how the moonlight makes the planes of his face look even more beautiful than the light of the revel did. “And I know your name because you’re quite a persona around here. Your - your father is- well, you must know who he is,” he smiles.

Oh, you indeed know who he is. You and your mother know exactly who he is.

Cassian must have seen the sadness in your eyes at the mention of him because he dares moving his hand to grab your wrist delicately. You look down to where his hand is now caressing yours, then look up when he whispers, “What is it with your father?”

“Nothing.”

You watch him watch you, his eyes assessing you. You can’t bare the intimacy of it all, the way he is reading you.

So you pretend. “You are a general, right, Cassian?” you ask him, smiling faintly.

He isn’t fooled, you know that, but at least, he plays along and returns your smile, this one less genuine. “A general?” he echoes. “Well, I’m the general and commander of the Night Court's armies, more precisely.”

You let out a laugh. Gods, he is a bit arrogant. You are to tell him so, but when you look up, your breath gets caught at the way his eyes are regarding you, as if in awe. At you?

“Are you blushing?” he teases. A bit, had you said? No, he is arrogant.

“I’m not.”

He raises one eyebrow, questioning. You turn your head to the night sky, denying him the sight of your reddened cheeks.

He chuckles, his hand moving from where he was holding your wrist up to your elbow. The caress he does across your arm makes you thank the cold for excusing the goosebumps.

“Then let me see, huh?” He pulls your arm carefully, lifting his other hand to place it on your chin. You chuckle as you resist from turning your face to him.

He laughs, taking a step to you to have the upper hand; now towering over you, Cassian turns your face as easy as breathing.

He hums with exaggerated satisfaction, then says, “liar.”

You don’t reply. Not when you’re so busy looking into his eyes, now very close to yours.

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, touching the red there. “Is the cold the reason why you’re blushing?” he whispers to you. No need to raise his voice when you two are so close.

His eyes dart across every part of your face frantically, looking for your answer.

But your answer comes in form of a smile and the shake of your head.

He returns your smile. “Y/n?”

“Cassian?” you murmur.

He blinks before saying softly, “Would you-"

“Y/N!”

Father.

You quickly detach yourself from Cassian’s hold, turning to your clearly mad father, who is walking, almost running, to you.

At the sight, Cassian takes your hand again, protecting you, ready to strike if needed.

“Get away from her, you Illyrian brute!” your father shouts. You move your gaze to the general, and it breaks your heart the way he ducks his head slightly, in his eyes the weight of your father’s words.

“Father!” you bark.

But he ignores you, his eyes glaring to where Cassian hands hold yours tightly. “Stop touching her! Now!”

Cassian turns to you, silently asking. You don’t want him to let go of your hand. Don’t want him to go. But your father… is better not to get him too mad. And he’s already bursting with rage.

And thinking about the consequences of this…

“Let go,” you manage to mumble weakly. And you see it in his face; you’ve hurt him. He thinks you don’t want your father to see you with him. You see it.

And when he lets go of your hand, you feel… something. Something stronger and more powerful than anything you've ever felt.

There’s a raw need to take his hand again, to follow the string between yours and his, that is getting longer with every step he takes away from you.

The string between you. The string.

Your… mate.

“Cassian” you whisper.

“Shut up!” Your father goes to grab your arm, pulling you to him. “We’re going home! Now!”

But you don’t stop. “Cassian!”

With tears in your eyes, you see him keep walking, only turning his head enough for you to make out his face profile in the obscurity, then he becomes just a silhouette in the night.

And you can do nothing as he walks away, disappearing into the dark.

You just watch.

(next part)

-Characters by Saraah J. Maas

A bit of cliché(ness) won’t hurt anybody :)). my head hurts like really bad after spending about 4 hours writing. absolutley worth it, though; i really like how this turned out. hope you liked it aswell. next thing i'll be writing will be for more than this series. k, that's it. thank you and bye bye :)).

#cassian x reader #cassian angst #cassian #cassian x you #cassian acotar #cassian fic #acotar fic #cassian fanfic

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libraryofgage · 4 months

Text

Life in Miniature (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedediah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One (you're here!)

There will be more Jedtavius in the next parts I promise, I just thought this would be a funner introduction to the AU lmao

I just love those little guy dudes from the museum so much hfjdks and now we get two pairs of them

Also, fun fact, I took Steve's Roman name from, like, an actual king of Rome. The actual sixth king. He seemed like a chill dude.

Anyway, there's a meme at the end and as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---------

When Robin took this job as a night guard, she didn't think the previous guard's words about history coming to life at night was, you know, real. She thought it was a joke, a predictable and corny joke, but a joke nonetheless.

But now, after being chased by a T-Rex, getting saved by Theodore Roosevelt, and almost being taken captive by fucking Attila the Hun, Robin thinks this job definitely isn't worth $16.50 an hour. Then again, this is the best paying job she's had in a while, and she was living a nocturnal life anyway.

Robin groans, leaning against a wall in the diorama exhibit, and slides down to the floor. She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut as she slides. "This is crazy. This is insane. I need to find a fucking weapon or something," she mutters.

"Pardon me," comes a voice close to her head, "but might you be the goddess Diana?"

As pick-up lines go, it's not the worst one she's heard. And, based on what she knows of Greek and Roman deities, it wouldn't be too far off. Still, she does not want to be hit on by whatever weird historical thing is trying to flirt with her.

Robin takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and says, "Do I look like a goddess to you?"

She looks to her left where the voice came from, blinking when her gaze falls on a figurine that would barely reach her ankle. He's dressed in a toga with a chest plate, wrist guards, a sword on his waist, and a deep purple cape over his shoulders. His hair is, honestly, the most impressive thing Robin has ever seen, made only more impressive by the golden laurels resting perfectly against his temples.

He's looking at her with wide eyes, more awed than anything else. "Yes," he says. "I have heard the gods are larger than life."

Okay. Fair.

"Why Diana, man?" Robin asks.

He tilts his head, studying her for a moment, looking her up and down. "You give me the same feeling as statues of Noble Diana with her Huntresses," he explains, pausing for a moment before adding, "A feeling of kinship, perhaps?"

Oh. This...this is like ancient Roman gaydar, right? Robin snorts and turns, resting her elbow on her knee. "I'm definitely not Diana. My name is Robin. I'm the new night guard."

His eyes brighten some, his smile growing wider and certainly charming enough to make the hearts of a few girls and guys flutter. "I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army."

Robin nods, letting all of the those words process in her head before saying, "Mind if I call you Steve? You look like a Steve."

The Sixth King of Rome blinks, looking slightly confused before his eyes light up with understanding. "Ah! A nickname! Yes, I am familiar with this concept. You may call me Steve, Lady Robin, as a show of our newfound friendship."

"Yeah, don't call me Lady Robin. Just Robin is fine," she says, hesitating before offering her hand to Steve.

"As you wish, Just Robin," he says, stepping carefully onto her hand and remaining steady as she raises him higher.

Robin blinks, frowning slightly and about to correct him again when she sees his smile and realizes it's a joke. "Okay, very funny, dingus," she says, carefully poking his side.

"Is dingus another nickname? It sounds like an insult."

"It usually is, but it's affectionate when I say it."

"Oh! Yes, like when Ockie calls Jed a philistine."

"Uh, sure," Robin says, nodding once as she lets Steve move to stand on her shoulder. He quickly sits, holding onto the collar of her jacket as she carefully stands up. "Hey, you know what I'm supposed to do about the dinosaur bones?"

"Rexy? Yes, he enjoys a game of fetch."

"Fetch. Of course."

----------

"What's going on in that head of yours, little man?"

Steve blinks, looks over at Jedediah, and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm taller than you," he says, gesturing to the good inch he has on Jedediah.

"As long as you're my son, you're a little man."

Doing his best to not laugh, Steve nods once and points to the new diorama set up in the middle of the room. It's a circular diorama, centered on an equally circular stage divided into sections. A cacophony of noise echoes from it, clashing as each slice of the stage fights for dominance. "I'm trying to figure out what in Jupiter's name they're doing over there," he says.

"Well, most of it sounds like music," Jedediah says, "I think."

"It's not any music I've heard before," Octavius says, coming to a stop next to Jedediah and frowning at the diorama. "I would have assumed it the unholy shrieking of the damned."

"Perhaps it would be nicer if they weren't all playing at once," Steve suggests, hands on his hips as he tilts his head.

"Oh, boy, there it is," Jedediah says, his grin audible in his tone. "He's got the King Face."

"What are your intentions, my boy?" Octavius asks.

Before Steve can answer, Robin strolls into the room, grinning when she sees the raving diorama in the middle. She walks over to Steve, Jedediah, and Octavius, crouches down, and says, "Hey, guys. I see you're checking out the History of Rock display."

"History of Rock?" Steve asks.

"What in the sweet hell do rocks have to do with that mess?" Jedediah asks, gesturing to the noisy stage.

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, like, rock music. It's a genre. Anyway, it was sponsored by some musician, so it's a permanent display now."

"And they will be...playing every night?" Octavius asks.

"Probably."

Steve frowns a little more and nods, rolling his shoulders back. "If they are a permanent fixture in our hallowed hall, they must be welcomed. As Sixth King of Rome, this duty falls upon my shoulders. Fathers, I shall return shortly."

"Woah, woah, hold your horses there, little man," Jedediah says, moving to stand in front of Steve. "You're not going anywhere near that snake pit without some back up."

"A few centurions, at least," Octavius agrees.

"I will have Robin. What better protection is there?"

Jedediah and Octavius glance at each other before looking at Robin. She grins and offers them a two finger salute. "I'll guard him with my life," she says, "It's literally my job."

With that reassurance, Jedediah and Octavius move out of the way. Steve steps onto Robin's hand and settles on her shoulder with practiced ease, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at greeting the new museum residents. He hopes they'll get along, but he also knows the might of his Roman army and the railroad workers can crush any who stand in their way.

Robin stops next to the diorama, tilting her head as she studies it. This close, Steve can see the bands playing on each slice of stage, the instruments and fashion shifting as his gaze travels around it. "Uh, excuse me," Robin says, raising her voice.

The raucous noise from the diorama screeches to a halt, the feedback making Robin and Steve grimace slightly. "Uh, hi. We're the official welcome crew for the Hall of Miniatures here. So, I'll need someone to represent your, like, whole display," Robin says, glancing over the bands until she finds one she recognizes. "Okay, I know you guys, so I'll be designating you the spokesband. Now, could the lead singer step forward?"

Steve watches as someone on the "Corroded Coffin" (what an odd name for a band) slice of the stage steps forward. Robin offers her hand to them, carefully lifting it away once they step on. "Great, uh, carry on, I guess. But, like, maybe play some of your quieter stuff for a bit," she says, her words barely out before the music starts up and the crowds start screaming once more.

She sighs and just walks over to the bench, letting off the person on her hand before letting Steve slide down her arm in a move they spent nearly three weeks practicing if only because they knew it would look cool.

When he hops onto the bench, Steve walks up to the other miniature, a man his age with long hair and odd clothes with tears that Robin once said were fashionable. His instrument is still slung over his shoulders, resting casually against his hips much like Steve's sword. Steve suddenly finds himself thinking that the man looks a little like a warrior. An odd one, to be sure, but a handsome one nonetheless.

He flashes his most charming smile, lets his shoulders relax, and says, "My friend here is Robin, Guardian of Brooklyn. I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army. You, however, may call me Steve."

-----

As far as Eddie was concerned, nothing mattered so long as Corroded Coffin got to keep rocking in an endless concert. The energy never waned, the set list never grew boring, and the music never stopped. He was ready to inform this welcoming crew of just that and promise Hell on Earth if they tried to disrupt the music (angry concert goers are a force of nature), when the words just died in his throat.

Because the most gorgeous man he's ever seen slides down that giant lady's arm, easily and smoothly landing on the bench. Somehow, his hair is perfectly windswept, the golden laurels glinting in the lights above them. His purple cape flutters softly as he walks closer, his toned thighs on full display with the toga hem that falls to the middle of them. There's a sword on the guy's hip, a chest plate that Eddie wants to pull off, a smile he wants to taste, and a pair of freckles right next to each other on the guy's cheek he wants to drag his tongue across.

He misses most of the introduction because he's too busy staring. He gets the important bits, though: Robin, a king, son of a god, adopted son of two dads. Eddie licks his lips nervously, a grin of his own tugging at his lips as he steps forward and playfully bows. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he says.

It's supposed to come out joking, a little poke at the guy's authority to see if he can be riled up. It actually comes out way too genuine, and Eddie has a sudden realization that he meant it. He absolutely will accept this guy as his king, actually. He'll fall to his knees before him right now if asked, and not just because it might give him a little peek under the dude's toga.

"Please, just call me Steve. There's no need to be so formal."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hoping Steve doesn't realize that the things Eddie is thinking about (the things he wants to do to and with Steve) are just about the least formal things on this earth. "Good to know," he says, relieved his voice sounds normal as he stands up straight and offers his hand. "Name's Eddie Munson, uh, lead singer of Corroded Coffin."

Steve blinks, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine as he steps closer and clasps Eddie's forearm. "A fellow leader," he says, squeezing Eddie's arm. "Welcome to our museum."

"Y-yeah," Eddie says, his arm still tingling when Steve lets go. He clears his throat, idly tugging on a few strands of hair. "So, uh, what's the deal around here? I mean, giant women...Roman kings...cowboys, it looks like."

"Our noble museum is home to Pharoah Ahkmenrah and his tablet, which brings the exhibits to life each night," Steve explains.

"There's a few rules, though," Robin says, sitting down on the bench behind Steve. "One, no getting into fights. Two, be back in your display by sunrise. Three, no leaving the museum at night."

"What? Why not?"

"We have lost good exhibits to Sol Invictus's morning rays," Steve says, frowning slightly. "So, be careful."

Eddie stares at Steve with wide eyes as he nods, amazed at the fact that Steve seems to talk like that so genuinely. And the fact that Eddie is...kinda into it. Holy shit, that's not helping with Eddie's whole "fall to his knees" thing. He wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned worship if Steve would just smile at him again.

Maybe his prayers are heard, because Steve smiles at him again. "Wonderful," he says. "Now, Eddie, could I interest you in a tour of the museum tonight?"

"Oh, you could interest me in a lot of things, sweetheart," Eddie blurts out, his mouth running faster than his brain.

He snaps his jaw shut, relieved and horrified at Steve's slightly confused expression and Robin's "I know what you are" thousand-yard stare from over his shoulder. Before he can try to backtrack, Steve snaps, understanding in his eyes. "Ah! Sweetheart is a nickname, yes? I accept your offer of friendship."

Eddie clenches his jaw, stopping himself from saying that it's more than friendships he's offering, and smiles. "Yeah. A nickname. That's all. I'm just...a nickname kinda guy. I'll probably think of more, too, Stevie. Like that."

Steve practically beams, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. "I look forward to it," he says, turning on his heel to look at Robin, who thankfully schools her expression. "Robin, this is where we leave you for the night. You have my word that Eddie will be back in place before sunrise."

"Well, you two kids have fun," she says, grinning in a way that immediately puts Eddie on edge. "I'd better not hear about any funny business, though. Absolutely no bases should be reached tonight, and you'd better not do any conquering or pillaging."

She definitely looks at Eddie when she says that last bit. Eddie stiffens, doing his best to hold back a blush when Steve glances over at his, the confusion clear on his face. "Conquering requires more planning than this, Robin. I've told you before."

"Don't worry about it, dingus. Just have fun. Here, I'll even call a ride for you," she says, winking at them before turning, holding her fingers to her mouth, and whistling sharply.

Steve walks over to Eddie right as the ground starts to shake, easily catching him around the waist before he can lose his balance. "The shaking does take some getting used to," he says, his tone full of sympathy and obliviousness to the crisis Eddie is experiencing.

When his brain finally catches up enough to ask what he's talking about, a dinosaur skeleton slides into the room, its body wiggling excitedly as it growls. Eddie jerks back, the arm around his waist tightening some. "What the fuck?!" he shouts.

"Worry not," Steve says, leaning closer. His voice is a little softer now, his breath fanning over Eddie's ear. "This is Rexy, our steed for the evening. He's very friendly."

"Friendly," Eddie mumbles, letting himself be dragged over to Rexy and placed on the dinosaur's head by Robin. "The dinosaur is friendly."

"Many of the exhibits are," Steve tells him, grinning brightly as Rexy begins moving after a pet on the snout from Robin.

Eddie looks at him, feeling blinded by Steve's smile once more, and completely forgets about the living dinosaur skeleton.

--------

Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

(Also I know there are like one or two upcoming parent AUs that people have asked to be tagged in and I tried to see if this was one of them but couldn't find anyone for the life of me hfjdks so I'm sorry if you asked on another post and I missed you orz)

And, finally, a meme for you

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #Mini Steddie #the tag for this series #steve deserves good parents actually #night at the museum #natm crossover #natm jedediah #natm octavius #jedtavius #the worship kink was a surprise to me too actually #and then i realized it was v on brand #have fun guys #there ought to be shenanigans aplenty

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shanastoryteller · 11 months

Note

Happy Birthday grandma! How about BFF WWX LXC and NMJ? Or female!MXY? Your choice🌻🌻🌻🌻🎉🎉🎉🎉

Ps. Made it?!?!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Lan Xichen arrives to his brother and Xuanyu in the middle of an argument.

They’re surrounded by corpses, Xue Yang inexplicably among them, and the missing Xiao Xingchen is standing there huddled against Song Lan’s side, looking strangely small, while a blind girl stands on his other side.

Sizhui and Jingyi are staying several steps back in an attempt not to get caught in the couple’s argument.

He almost regrets leaving A-Yao behind with the rest of the disciples. It had made sense at the time, with the low but present chance that they’d run into trouble, but now he wishes he could be the one dealing with their siblings instead of him.

“-not just going to – XICHEN-GE! GET DOWN HERE!”

The disciples, who’d demanded to come along, cringe away and even send him sympathetic looks.

She only calls him Xichen-ge when she wants something. He’s pretty sure A-Yao taught her that.

He descends, jumping off his sword, and frowning when he gets a closer look at her. She has wounds around her waist and shoulder even though they seemed to have stopped bleeding and there’s a variety of colorful bruises on the bits of skin he can see on her, which means there’s even more hiding beneath her robes. “You’re injured.”

“It’s nothing,” she says dismissively. Wangji’s eyebrow twitches. “I want Song Lan, Xiao Xingchen, and A-Qing to accompany us to Koi Tower.”

He assumes A-Qing is the blind girl. “Ah.”

“It’s not proper,” Wangji says, enough irritation bleeding though that this is clearly not the first time he’s said that.

She sends him a scathing look. “We can’t send them back to Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren will eat them alive, and we can’t leave them alone. Look at them! Look around! They need help.”

“Ah, Madame Lan,” Song Lan says tentatively, “you’ve already done-”

“Shut up,” she says and his mouth snaps shut. Lan Xichen stares. He’s encountered Song Lan many times and has never seen him act like this. “Where are you going to go? What are you going to do? You deserve rest, all three of you, and while I would hardly call the Jin restful, it’s at least better than having to watch you back on the road.” She frowns. “Also, what’s with Madame Lan? I told you to call me Xuanyu. If you fight an army of the undead together, you don’t have to use titles. It’s a rule, or something.”

Wangji’s eyes narrow and Song Lan smiles at Xuanyu before he catches sight of Wangji’s expression and then his lips thin out into a straight line.

Lan Xichen can already feel a headache building.

She’s only been missing for a few hours. How did any of this even happen?

If he wants to find out, then he’s going to have to give in to her. She won’t tell him anything otherwise, he assumes, because A-Yao definitely wouldn’t. Besides, he has no reason to deny her. She is Madame Lan and Lady Jin and she’s more than entitled to add people to their traveling party and to invite wandering cultivators to Koi Tower.

“The rest of our party is nearby,” he says finally. “We’re happy for you to join us.”

His brother glares at him, but what does he expect him to do? She’s Wangji's wife.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #awayinthewind #untamed

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sunnysana · 6 months

Text

Park Chan-young x F! Neohuman reader

Summary: Eun-yoo left Chanyoung in the trap.

Warning(s): None

"Eun-yoo!" Chanyoung yelled for the 10th time knowing he wouldn't be able to get out any time soon with his sprained ankle, and that if he'd wait it to heal he would probably die of starvation.

"Damn it" he muttered under his breath while letting himself slide to the floor. He knew she wasn't gonna come back for him.

He sighed and closed his eyes giving up on doing the impossible.

Hours later he felt a change of scenery, he felt soft plush against his cheek when gained consciousness.

He opened his eyes.

He checked his surroundings first, noticing that he was lying in a makeshift two person bed that was probably a sleeping couch. He faced to a wall with a window shut with a curtain in presumably a camper.

it was getting dark outside. As he tried to sit up, he noticed his ankle bandaged up and taken care of.

He sat up and looked to the front. There was a girl standing at the kitchen counter making some food.

"Hello?" He said, trying to gain her attention. "Ah, I see you're awake." She then grabbed a bowl, showing some type of soup in it. "Drink up," she said. "You need it if you wanna heal anytime soon," he took it. "Oh, thank you," he replied, bowing his head slightly.

"How did I get here?" He asked still in a polite manner like he always did. "Oh right, I found you in a trap made for the infected or so-called 'monsters', I guess I felt bad for you so I decided to help you out." she said. She however left out the part that she saw Eun-yoo leaving him in there.

Then she grabbed a bowl for herself aswel and sat across from him on the side of the bed.

"So what's your name?" She asked him before eating a spoon full of the warm soup. "I'm Park Chanyoung from the Crows platoon. Nice to meet you." he bowed his head slightly again. "That's probably a thing in the army right?, well my name is L/N Y/N nice to meet you too." I bowed my head as well.

"Now drink up so you don't die of starvation, I didn't put anything weird in it if you're wondering" she smiled slightly. "If I wanted to do anything to you I would have done it already".

Chanyoung then put a spoon full of soup in his mouth tasting it. "Hm, it's good".

A little while later, after having a great conversation with him, you finished the food, so you placed the dishes in the sink. You felt something new inside something you hadn't felt before but couldn't quite place your finger on it.

"Thank you for your care, but I probably should go back I don't want to be a bother for you," Chanyoung said preparing to get up "No no no it's fine, you should take some rest I bet you won't come far like that also then my effort would have been for nothing"

Y/N replied back. As much as she doesn't wanna admit it she enjoyed having his company after all she's been alone for a while.... well since she turned. But what he doesn't know doesn't matter right?.

"Go rest now," the tired girl said, settling at the table. "I'm gonna aswel. "Wait, let me sleep at the table at least, I can't just take your bed like this. That would be rude of me".

"No, it's fine. Really, you need it more than I do, I'm not letting you sleep at the table" she said insisting and resting her head against the wood. "I'm not letting you either" he replied back to her not wanting to make her sleep on there, cause what gentleman would make a girl do that?

"I can take it really" she said not wanting him to sleep uncomfortably at the hard table.

But he couldn't let her "Alright then how about this you don't want me sleeping at the table but you don't want me to either so how about we share this bed? It's two person sized so we can have our own side that we stay on so it's hopefully less uncomfortable" he suggested a small blush tinting his cheeks "And no weird stuff ofcourse if you're worried about that" he added.

Her cheeks also got a little pink tint on them "If you insist then fine" she then clomb onto the bed onto the left side and got under the covers.

Both of them were flustered as they lay there together. "...Goodnight," she says softly, trying to look away. "Goodnight" he said back positioning himself confertably as they both drift of into a deep sleep.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A/N:

This is my first fic on here, so I hope you liked it. Also, I will be making a 2nd part soon, so I hope you look forward to that. Thank you for reading!

#sweet home #kdrama #sweet home season 2 #park chanyoung #sweet home x reader

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chibipeachu · 6 months

Text

Pretty Songbird || Aleksander M.

A/N: I watched snakes and songbirds and had this ideas stuck in my head ever since i saw it last week, idk if it's gonna be a series, if you have any ideas pls tell me!!

WC: 1311 Warning: Fem!Reader, the moon summoner trope, not proof read so i take credit for mispelling or mistakes..

Alina sighed as herself and Mal walked into a busy club to get away from their pursuers.

“It should be too crowded to notice us in this crowd, just keep the hood on.” Mal whispered to Alina as they moved closer to the stage where others stood, waiting for the performer.

“Want something?”

Alina turned and nodded as Mal gave a quick nod before walking to the bartender.

As alina went to stand near a corner of the crowded club she bumped into another young girl. “Aww, sorry..” “Ah, i’m sorry.” They both apologized to one another.

“It’s alright, just a throbbing but it’ll go away with a drink.” The girl brushed it off and gave alina a smile.

“You look familiar..” Alina felt her heart drop, as the expression the girl made was of realization. “You’re her aren’t you?” Alina tensed up and lifted her hand in case she need to summon to stop the girl from doing something.

“It’s alright, your safe here, i just recommend the further booth over there if you don’t want to draw attention..” Alina followed the girls direction and saw an empty booth and nodded at her. “Thank you..?” She waited for a name.

“Y/n, i’m a performer here tonight.” She smiled and pointed towards the stage were drunks and many excited people stood waiting.

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

People whispered to one another as they noticed the brooding, darkling who was accompanied with other grisha, they all had looks of distaste on their faces as they scanned the club.

Alesksander’s attention jumped as two women in front of him talked about the performer.

“Is it true she can summon?”

“Rumors say she can but was sick during her testing and got dismissed.”

Before any of them could provide aleksander with information, a young woman, dressed in a loose blouse and what looked like the first army pants.

“Based on all the chatter I could hear from back there, I assume it’s about myself?” You grinned as you scanned the crowd.

A mixed of positive responses came from the busy club.

Aleksander noticed how each of his grisha searched the crowd.

“Aww stop it, i’m blushing!” You playfully waved to the crowd before turning to the band who waited for your sign to play.

As the band started up, you danced around the stage a bit.

“So if you don’t know, i wrote this many, many, many years ago when i was stuck as a showstopper for tow men on each side of the fold, one more then the other..” You referenced to your pants before raising an eyebrow.

Aleksander wasn’t surprised, zlatan of course wouldn’t share a summoner with anyone, especially the king and aleksander.

“Can’t take my charm,

Can’t take my humor,

Can’t take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumor.

Nothing you can take was ever with keeping.

No nothing you can take was every worthing keeping.”

As alina listened to your singing she glanced around the room and froze as she spotted aleksander and the other grisha in the club.

Alina subtly nudged mal who popped up and ushered alina through the crowd to leave quickly.

As you took a breath, you felt yourself stop for a moment, as you took note of the dark eyes of the darkling.

“Thinking you’re so fine,

Thinking you could have mine.

Thinking in control, thinking you can change me, maybe rearrange me.

Think again if that’s your goal.”

You stomped your boots at each sentence, making the crowd cheer.

Through the small break of your singing, you held strong eye contact with the darkling, from what zlatan had told you, he was saving you from the general who had “tossed your abilities aside” those were the only words you believed from the first general, you had tried to get test when you were a teen but got reject when you said you could summon.

“Can’t take my sass,

Can’t take my talking.

You can kiss my ass,

Then keep on walking!

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,

Oh, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.” You stared him down while continuing to sing.

Zoya scoffed as she followed your and aleksander’s gaze to one another.

Aleksander looked away from you to look at the sour expression on her face.

“She’s insulting you to your face..”

“I know..” He responded, his eyes moving back onto you which your eyes were closed as you finished the song.

“Nothing you can take from is worth dirt,

Take it cause i’d give it free, it won’t hurt.

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..”

As you finished the crowd cheered making you grin and gave a bow before walking to your bandmate and motioned for behind the stage before exiting, they band continued to play as you left.

Aleksander hadn’t noticed zoya rambling on how disrespectful you were, he piped up as you left the stage. “I’ll be back.” He told zoya before walking outside the club.

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

You quietly exited from the building and leaned against the building.

You were now screwed, after many blissful years away from zlatan and kirigan it had to come crashing down.

Being upset you got up and kicked the tins in the back alley of the club.

“That was quite the show..” You jumped at the general’s voice.

“General kirigan..” You greeted, walking to pick up the fallen over tins.

“You worked under zlatan?” He questioned, making you chuckle.

“What made it obvious? My clothes or the song?” You asked, putting the lid back on before turning to his figure.

“He rarely sent letters to the palace grounds to let us know of anything.”

You scoffed, knowing where he was trying to lead the conversation.

“Bullshit, don’t play like you never knew about me, I stood in front of grisha testers and was denied a retest because of my ability, each test is shown in front of you, in your lap to see the newest grisha!” You walked closer to him as you went on.

“Nice try to play that card but the only words I ever believed from zlatan was that you tossed me aside.” You brushed past the darkling and went to enter the club again but was stopped by him grabbing your wrist in a tight grasp and pulling you back to face him.

“You could train in the little palace with others, be with your own kind.” He tried to convince you.

“You missed that train where I wanted to fit in with others badly, I will not be trained to replace your little sun summoner.” You ripped your wrist form his grasp and walked back into the club.

Aleksander stood by himself in the alley, shocked you had decline his offer.

After he collected himself he walked into the club to collect his grisha.

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

Weeks had passed since the incident at the club.

Aleksander hadn’t been expecting a meeting with the king, he was confused at the sudden arrangement.

“Tsar.” Aleksander greeted as he entered his war room.

“General.” King Pyotr greeted, letting aleksander step in further before continuing.

“Is there a reason you called upon me?” Aleksander questioned.

“When you were visiting ryevost, did you happened to see this girl?” The king unfolded a drawing of the singer he had a conversation with weeks ago.

“She’s rumored to be a moon summoner, if anything, everyone’s after her. And i believe she’ll do good here in the little palace under your control.” He continued, aleksander studied the poster.

“I’ll send grisha to find her…” The king smiled and nodded in aleksander’s direction before getting up and leaving.

Once gone, aleksander picked up the paper to admire your beauty.

“I’ll find you, songbird..” He muttered as he read over the paper.

Y/N Y/L/N - GRISHA - WANTED BY KING PYOTR AND GENERAL KIRIGAN.

#aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x you #the darkling x reader #the darkling x you #darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan x you #aleksander morozova fluff #shadow and bone x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Note

Bonny we love everything you do! If you are up to, what about IT girl has a date and jk open a live coincidently on the same day and time so she cannot go

(Ps: Her date is an asshole and jk knows it)

You guys have really made me wanna write this... Warnings for Jungkook's internal dirty thoughts haha

First part: here

There's no fucking way he will let you go on a date with someone like sangwook. Absolutely not.

You're way too nice to say no to the guy, and he himself knows that the staff member has a certain way with words, knows how to get his way. But Jungkook has also heard the horror stories of the guy getting girls drunk until they're barely conscious, just so he can have his way with them- and he won't just sit here and let that happen to you of all people.

Not if he can do anything about it.

Jungkook and you had honestly had a great time when you eventually came over to eat the re-heated instant noodles together. He learned some stuff about you, about your interest, about who you are apart from just your job. You share a lot more interests with him than initially thought, both of you having a love for gaming and good food. And he especially enjoyed how natural you were, treating him like a normal person, not like the idol he is.

Maybe that's why he just can't let you go now.

He'd heard of the date from Sangwook himself- he'd been chatting with another female staff about you, and how he'll 'find out' if you're 'as innocent' as you apparently act. It made Jungkook feel like throwing up, a guy like that potentially filling you up with alcohol just to eat you like prey- he can't let that happen.

You've told him how you seek love, romance, excitement and something almost childish.

Exactly what he wants, too.

So he goes live, the only way he knows he will keep you there, well aware that you take your job (hopefully) too seriously to go on a date instead. He doesn't know how close you are with him yet- maybe it's a lost cause, maybe Sangwook had been the reason you'd been so hesitant with jungkook in the first place-

But he has to try.

"Hm, hello." He greets the fans, but more so you who he hopes is watching on the other side. "Its quite sudden, isn't it?" He chuckles, holding onto the iced wine in the glass mug in front of him. "Looks like a date? Ah, yes it does, doesn't it?" He grins, acting all shy.

And there it is. An angry smiley- several, even.

It makes him chuckle as he reads the comments and imagines you fuming in your home, but he can take the heat coming his way if he at least prevents that horrible date from happening. Have you already started to get ready? He wonders what you might look like all dolled up. In a short dress maybe, one that hugs your curves just right, with simple delicate straps holding it up over your shoulders. He knows you need no fancy designer shit.

He'd rip it off of you either way.

"Army.." he hums, referring to the fans, but hoping that you get the message most of all. "If you go on dates, late- you be careful, right?" He says, taking a sip of his iced wine, before setting the mug down, and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. There's another round of emojis flooding in, and he can't help but laugh.

He continues this game for almost an hour, making sure that your date was not happening, before he ends the live.

And not even half an hour later, you're in his apartment, fuming, angry, upset. But you're there, and not with him, so Jungkook can't help but be satisfied.

Especially at the sight of you in a strapless denim-dress. Short, but long enough to cover you comfortably. The fabric stretches a bit over your curves, tits looking so good but a little uncomfortable. He would just have to pull down a little, just a tiny bit, and they'd spill out, he's sure of it. He can't see bra straps.

Are you not wearing one? Interesting.

You're pushing him lightly. "You asshole!" You yell at him. "You knew I had a date! You knew it!" You complain, and he nods, a simple smile on his face, and it only angers you more. "Stop laughing!" You demand, but he just raises his hands as if to show you he's no threat, but you just reach out to push him again-

But instead he pulls your wrists towards him, wraps his arms around you, completely catching you off guard as he holds you close, trying hard to ignore your body's warmth against his.

"I'm glad you didn't go." He says, and it sounds surprisingly serious. "I was worried you might." He tells you, and you hate how good he looks, how good he smells.

"Cause you wouldn't have someone to play around with?" You mumble still angry, and he chuckles.

"I'm not playing with you." He denies, swaying you both from side to side a little. "I really am not." He says as if to make sure his point gets to you.

"And yet you still ruined my date.." you complain.

"Sangwook isn't worth your time." He shakes his head.

"Oh but you are?" You scoff. He chuckles. Again.

"I mean, you're here, are you not?" He states.

You are. And you're not sure why you're here, why you didn't at least change, why you don't want to leave just yet.

"To tell you to stop trying to ruin my love life." You snap back in defense, and he laughs.

"Then stop trying to ruin mine." He says back, making you freeze in his arms before you both detach a little. "I thought we were good? Why did you agree to that date?" He wonders, and you shrug, crossing your arms.

"He asked... nicely, you know?" You say, looking at the floor.

"And you couldn't say no." He sighs. "Because you're too nice yourself." He scolds softly.

"I just.. wanted to, you know, talk to someone. Be social. Spend my evening with something else than animal crossing and icecream.." you try and justify yourself, and Jungkook suddenly opens his arms wide, shaking his head before he hits his chest.

"Am I not right here?" He complains. "Am I just an illusion or something?"

"..no?" You wonder, and he tilts his head in irritation for a moment.

"Then why am I not an option for you?" He asks, a little agitated. "I thought we were fine last time you were here. We had a really good time, talked, fuck I thought we were going somewhere!" He complains.

"I'm just.. scared." You say, and he runs a hand over his face.

"I know." He nods. "Lets just- okay. Do you want to try this?" He asks, motioning between you and him. "Yes or no."

"I don't know-" you start, but he shakes his head.

"Not an answer, try again." He tells you, crossing his arms.

"Jungkook what if we get caught-" You start again, but he denies it again.

"Yes or no. It's pretty easy." He says.

"What's your answer?" You ask, and he throws his head back in agony. "Okay, yeah- yes? But-"

"Good, great, fuck!" He barks out to no one, before he holds your face in his palms. "Just trust me. Please." He begs, eyes sparkling in both the light of the candle on his kitchen table, and the neon colored laser points traveling all around his walls from his moodlight.

"What do you want from me?" You ask, and he smiles.

"Your love." He answers, before he shrugs playfully. "And maybe the occasional fuck on the couch if I'm in the mood-" he starts, and you hit his chest at that, though you laugh.

"So you really do just want to screw me!" You whine, crossing your arms- unaware of how you're pushing up your cleavage.

"No, baby." He shakes his head, tongue running over his lip piercing. "I don't only want to fuck you." He answers.

"Though I won't say no if you're ever offering."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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beskarandblasters · 8 months

Text

Group Therapy

Frankie Morales x F!Reader x Tommy Miller

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading! 🤍

Summary: Frankie Morales & Tommy Miller are both sent to a veteran’s support group by their doctors where they meet and become friends. Both men take a liking to you, the group therapist. And instead of getting angry with each other Tommy comes up with a fun little idea after therapy one night.

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent for both TLOU & TF (no outbreak and Frankie moves to Texas, not Florida), age gap (Frankie is in his early 40’s & Tommy is in his late 40’s, Reader is in her 20's), this is a hipaa-less land ok, drinking, threesome, fingering, oral sex (M and F receiving), vaginal sex, semi public sex, creampie, pet names (darlin', sweetheart, good girl, dirty girl), slight degradation, no use of y/n

“I recommend going to therapy. There’s a support group for veterans at the baptist church downtown. It’s in the basement.”

Therapy? Really?

Frankie sighs. Therapy is not really his thing. At least the one his doctor is suggesting is with a group. That way he can attend the meeting and coast by, just listening to other people’s problems and indulging in refreshments after. They usually have cookies at these things, right?

“Mr. Morales?” the doctor asks, snapping Frankie from his thoughts.

Frankie sighs, “When is it?”

“Wednesday nights from six to seven thirty.”

It’s already Tuesday, Frankie thinks to himself. Another sigh.

“Fine.”

Churches make Frankie uncomfortable now. He was raised Catholic as a kid but after everything life has thrown at him, he’s not sure what he believes anymore.

He walks down the steps into the rather institutionalized looking basement of the church, a stark contrast from the ornate interior of the upstairs. He scans the room for an open seat. And of course the chairs are arranged in a circle because why wouldn’t they be?

He picks a seat off to the side of the circle. And to his delight, it’s right by the refreshments table. He takes a look around the room as he sits down. People of all ages are seated in the circle but there’s an abundance of older men for sure; older than Frankie. He takes a look to his right and sees a man with black hair and a mustache. The man notices Frankie looking and makes eye contact with him. A look of recognition washes over the man’s face even though Frankie’s never met him.

“… Do I know you?” Frankie asks, after a moment of uncomfortable glances.

“No,” the man chuckles to himself, “You’re just the spitting image of my brother, Joel, when he was a little younger, that’s all.”

“Ah, okay,” Frankie says, fidgeting in his seat a little.

“Nervous?”

“Uhh-”

“I was nervous for my first session, too. It’ll get easier.”

“How long have you been coming?”

“This is my third week.”

That makes Frankie feel a little bit better; the fact that it doesn’t take too long to get assimilated here. The uneasiness in his stomach starts to subside, but only slightly.

“I’m Tommy by the way,” the man says, outstretching his hand.

Frankie shakes his hand, noting in his mind that Tommy has a strong handshake; an important judge of a man’s character, of course.

“Uh, nice to meet you. I’m Frankie.”

“What branch were you, Frankie? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Army. You?”

“Same!”

“No kidding,” Frankie says, but before he can continue the session begins.

Two women walk down the steps into the basement before sitting at the head of the circle, presumably the group therapists. One of the therapists clears her throat and starts with, “How has everyone’s week been so far?”

A cluster of various one word answers are thrown into the circle. Frankie looks around the room before stopping his gaze on… you. You look nervous, too; like you feel you don’t belong here.

A judgmental thought crosses Frankie’s mind. These two are gonna console a bunch of traumatized veterans? But he immediately feels guilty for it. Plus, he keeps going back to the lost expression on your face, an expression that betrays your innermost thoughts; you don’t think you’re good enough for this.

The first woman nods and continues, “Well if you’re having a good week so far, keep it up. And if not, maybe we can turn that around. But to start, I just want to introduce some of the new faces here.”

“You might’ve noticed I’m not alone today. I’d like to introduce you to my co-therapist,” she says, followed by your name.

Frankie repeats the name in his mind a few times, deciding he likes the way it sounds. He doesn’t realize he’s staring at you until the other woman calls his name.

“I’d also like to introduce Mr. Morales to the group tonight.”

“Frankie’s fine,” Frankie says sheepishly, cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

“Of course. Glad to have you here with us. I’m Gin by the way.”

Frankie mutters a “thank you” and then immediately regrets it. That was dumb. What is he supposed to be thanking her for?

His palms grow sweaty and he presses them on his jeans to dry them, trying to quell his anxiety.

Frankie’s too busy with his own anxiety to notice that Tommy’s looking at you. His eyes scan up and down your form, noticing every detail from the way your legs are crossed, the cut of your shirt revealing a bit of your collarbone, and the slight furrow of your brows. He can tell you’re nervous, too.

Gin leads the session and you sort of stay quiet, just observing her techniques as to how she gets these men to open up. You notice that one person is talking a lot, responding to almost everything anyone says. If there was a way to be a try hard at therapy, he’s succeeding. You know his name is Tommy because before the session started Gin pulled you aside on the stairs and pointed everyone out to you. The group isn’t that big, consisting of only eight men. Gin got the call from Frankie’s doctor yesterday afternoon, notifying her that he’ll be joining. So now your group is a nice even ten, including you and Gin.

You make eye contact with Tommy a few times throughout the session. And every time you do he shoots you a small smirk. You can’t tell if he’s trying to flirt or just being nice. Either way you can’t help but notice how attractive he is, with his dark hair and matching mustache perched above his lips. There’s a sort of playful glimmer in his eyes, too, almost as if he can flirt with you with just a look and nothing more.

Tommy isn’t the only one who caught your eye. Frankie’s sitting next to Tommy and although he looks like a nervous wreck, there’s something endearing about him. Past the nervousness you notice his brown curls peeking out from underneath his baseball cap. He’s a handsome man; a handsome nervous man. All you learn about him is that he was in the army and his nickname was Catfish. Maybe you’ll learn more as he attends more sessions.

Soon enough, the hour and thirty minutes comes to an end. Everyone starts to stand up and gather their belongings. Frankie immediately heads to the refreshments table, taking a small stack of cookies and quickly flees the room. Tommy looks back at you, shooting you one last smile before following Frankie upstairs.

He finds Frankie in the parking lot and walks up behind him, clapping him on the shoulder, startling Frankie a bit.

“Survived your first therapy session!” Tommy says.

“Oh, yeah…” Frankie responds quietly.

“See you next week?” Tommy asks before walking to his truck.

Frankie sighs as if he’s contemplating it and decides, “You know what? Yeah, you will.”

He walks off to his truck and shoots Tommy a wave before getting in and driving away.

Until next week it is.

It’s Wednesday again. Frankie spent the whole day dreading therapy tonight. Five forty-five rolls around, it’s time for Frankie to get in his truck and leave. He drags his feet down the driveway, hoping that no unwanted attention will be drawn to him tonight. The drive there he’s fidgeting anxiously, palms growing clammy and sweaty against the leather steering wheel. He pulls into the parking lot and backs to a parking spot that so happens to be next to Tommy’s truck. He shoots Frankie a small wave from his driver’s seat. And now Frankie starts to feel at least a little bit at ease. There’s something warm and inviting about Tommy that Frankie noticed. Maybe it’s because he’s somehow got the hang of this therapy thing after only three weeks. Maybe he could ask him how he does it over a beer after a therapy session. Maybe.

“So last week didn’t scare you off?” Tommy jokes as they both get out of their trucks.

“Not yet,” Frankie jokes back, offering a small, weakened laugh.

“Proud of ya, Fish,” Tommy nods.

And with that, they head into the church and down to the institutionalized, mundane basement. They sit next to each other again just like the week before and watch the others shuffle in. And then both sets of eyes fixate on you; you and the way your hips sway as you walk down the steps, holding your head up a little bit higher than last time. Maybe you’re starting to get the hang of this, too.

You and Gin take your seats at the top of the circle and begin this week’s session. Frankie finds himself transfixed on the way you’re able to make him feel seen and heard, even with the little details he offers tonight, not quite ready to share everything yet. You do the same for the others, nodding your head when they tell you stories and offering sympathetic glances. He feels a little jealous when you do that for anyone else. But… why? Isn’t this your job?

Perhaps it’s because there’s something else there. Wait no, that’s stupid. It’s his second day of therapy and he’s falling for this therapist?

Get a grip, Frankie, he tells himself.

Tommy noticed the way Frankie looks at you, because he was doing the same last week. And the two weeks before Frankie joined. Is he jealous? Nah, he gets it. He just smirks to himself and stares down at his boots planted on the floor.

The hour and thirty minutes flies by. And Frankie’s almost sad it’s over, emphasis on almost. While he could stare at your pretty face all night, he can’t talk about his feelings and his trauma all night.

He helps himself to some cookies at the refreshment table again, a feeble reward for finishing another session, before heading up the stairs. His gaze is locked on you until you’re out of view, almost tripping up the stairs since he didn’t watch where he was going.

And Tommy watches all of this unfold and quietly chuckles to himself.

He’s got it bad, he thinks to himself.

Maybe he could help Frankie out.

In the parking lot Tommy finds Frankie walking back to his truck.

“Hey,” he calls out softly, not wanting to startle him.

Frankie turns around, mid bite into a cookie, and looks at Tommy with an eyebrow raised.

“You wanna get a drink next door at the Legion next door?” Tommy asks, pointing at the American Legion next to the church with his thumb.

It’s like Tommy read Frankie’s mind. He swallows the bite of the cookie he has in his mouth and says, “Sure” before walking next door with Tommy.

Over two bottles of Miller Lite Frankie thinks that Tommy’s going to give him tips about overcoming anxiety in therapy but the reality is… he couldn’t be more wrong.

“I saw you looking at her,” Tommy says nonchalantly.

“Huh?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Can’t say I blame ya. Been doing the same thing myself since I first started coming.”

“Oh, if you were interested in her first I’ll back off,” Frankie says sheepishly.

“No. No, that’s not what I’m saying at all brother.”

“So then what are you saying? I thought you asked me to get a beer to give me tips about getting rid of the stress of therapy,” Frankie says, unsure of what Tommy’s motive is.

“Oh, I have something that will get rid of your stress alright.”

“And that is?”

“Keep an open mind, okay?”

“Uhh-”

“A threesome.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m being serious, Fish.”

“Isn’t this crossing some sort of boundary?”

“We’d all be consenting adults.”

“So what do you suggest we do? How does one approach their therapist for a threesome?”

“Let me do all the talking.”

“That’s a given.”

“We’ll approach her next week after therapy, okay?”

Frankie sighs. This is such a bad idea. But he’s also not saying no.

“Fine. But if this goes badly you’re finding us another therapy group.”

“Deal.”

What both men don’t know is that you’re catching onto both of them. As you and Gin are packing up the leftover cookies while Frankie and Tommy are grabbing a beer, Gin says to you, “Tommy and Frankie are so into you. I saw the way they were looking at you.”

“What? No they weren’t!” you say, shocked that she’d say such a thing.

“They were! And I’m not saying they’re into you but I’m also not not saying they’re into you,” she says as you two walk up the stairs and into the parking lot.

“Do with that what you will,” she finishes with a small smirk before walking to her car.

Maybe she’s right.

The past two therapy sessions were nothing compared to tonight. Frankie’s more nervous than ever. And not even for the actual therapy. Tonight Tommy’s gonna propose his plan to you. And Frankie is scared shitless for your response. He doesn’t even know how he’s gonna go about asking you. How does one ask their therapist to have a threesome? Because Frankie doesn’t have a clue.

Somehow the basement feels smaller than ever. Frankie can’t even look at the refreshments table without feeling like he’s going to gag. His gaze bounces back and forth between Tommy, you, and the floor. But somehow Tommy is maintaining his ever cool demeanor, leaning back in his hair with his legs slightly spread apart, head cocked to the side with a slight smirk on his face.

And you’re going along with it, leaning fully into the idea of both men being attracted to you. And they both present their attraction to you so differently. Tommy is confident, never faltering his eye contact with you, his body language confident and flirtatious. Frankie, on the other hand, can barely bring himself to look you in the eye. The poor thing is a nervous wreck. And when he does look at you, a flustered expression washes over his face. You can’t decide which one you like more.

Therapy wraps up and normally you and Gin stick around after to talk. But this time she quickly helps put the room back together before leaving, shooting you a wink as she walks up the stairs.

Eventually the others shuffle out and it’s just you, Tommy and Frankie in the basement. The men both approach you but Frankie lets Tommy take the lead as they both discussed the week prior.

“Hey there, darlin’. We were just wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with us next door.”

Frankie winces at the nickname and in anticipation of your response. But to his surprise you say yes without missing a beat. And before Frankie knows it the three of you are heading next door to the American Legion.

Sitting at a table in the corner you, Frankie and Tommy have a couple rounds of beer. As you drink you notice Frankie starts to loosen up for once. The alcohol cuts the tension and the small talk opens him up, all thanks to Tommy’s lead.

Eventually, the conversation hits a lull and Tommy clears his throat. For a beat he looks nervous, too. But it goes away almost instantly when he talks.

“So darlin’, my friend over there has been dealing with some stress regarding therapy.”

“Completely understandable,” you say.

“I was thinking you might have a way you could help him.”

“Oh?”

A smirk graces his face. It doesn’t take long for you to pick up what he’s putting down.

“Me and him?” you ask, gesturing to Frankie.

“Me, you, and him,” Frankie says quietly.

“Oh,” you say, eyes widening.

“Right now?” you ask after a moment of contemplation.

“Eager little thing, aren’t ya?” Tommy chuckles.

“Where would we do it here?” you ask.

“I’m sure this place has loads of rooms,” Tommy says, “I’ll go look first,” he continues, before getting up and walking down the hallway across the room.

After a moment you see him appear at the end of the hallway, motioning for you and Frankie to come over.

“One at a time?” you ask, looking back at Frankie.

He nods nervously and you get up to meet Tommy in the hallway. After a moment Frankie joins you, the three of you standing in front of a door.

“Found just the place,” Tommy says, opening the door and going into the room.

It’s a large room, full of folded up tables and chairs. Tommy closes the door after you and Frankie go in, and thankfully it locks.

“They must use this room for parties,” Frankie says.

“This looks like a party to me, huh Fish?”

You can’t help but laugh. This dynamic between the two of them is too good. And it’ll be even better with you sandwiched in between them.

“Let’s unfold one of those bad boys,” you say, pointing to one of the folded up tables.

Tommy and Frankie unfold one of the tables resting against a wall. And you waste no time taking your clothes off. They turn around once they’re done unfolding the table and their mouths fall open, completely gawking at your naked form.

“Now you’re definitely an eager little thing,” Tommy smirks, walking over to you and grabbing you by the waist. He starts by kissing your neck, sinking his teeth into it and nipping hard enough to leave a light mark. His hand trails from your waist down to your thighs, fingertips ghosting the soft flesh. Frankie watches as he kisses your neck and palms your thigh, his cock growing hard and straining against his jeans. You turn your head and look over at him, saying suggestively, “Well aren’t you gonna join us?”

Frankie gulps and walks over to you slowly, positioning himself behind you. He grabs your ass and kisses along your collarbone, on the side of your neck where Tommy isn’t. God, he’s so nervous. But it also feels right, being pressed up against you with his hands all over your body.

Tommy sinks his hand between your thighs and you part your legs a little, just enough for his fingers to graze your cunt.

“So wet already, darlin’. Bet you got wet just by looking at us back there in the church, huh?”

He’s not entirely wrong. You moan in response as he presses a finger against your clit, swirling around it tenderly.

Frankie moves up your collarbone to your neck and then up to your ear, nipping the love with his teeth before tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. Your knees buckle due to the different spots of stimulation happening all over your body.

“Let’s get you on the table, darlin’,” Tommy chuckles, walking you over to the table with Frankie.

You situate yourself on top of it, feeling the cool plastic against your warm back, the front of your body peppered with goosebumps as you await more touch. Tommy takes some of your wetness between his fingertips, rubbing them together and pulling them apart, your wetness stretching and following the moment of his fingers. He places them in his mouth, tasting your juices and moistening his fingers for you. He slides one finger in slowly just as Frankie starts to play with your nipples. He takes them between his index finger and his thumb with light pressure, watching the way your breasts move as you breathe deeper.

“Harder,” you tell him softly, needing more.

He pinches your nipples harder, eliciting a moan from you and a chuckle from Tommy.

“Play with her body, Fish. Find out what she likes,” Tommy says as he adds a second finger.

Frankie listens to Tommy and lowers his head by your breast, this time taking a nipple in his mouth. You arch your back at the dual stimulation, both men pulling the deepest moans from you.

Frankie releases your nipple with a pop and brings his face by your ear, “Gotta be careful, sweetheart. Don’t want them to hear us, do we?”

You nod, looking him deep in the eyes when he pulls his head away from your ear, in disbelief at what you’re doing right now. But the line’s already been crossed and none of you give a shit.

Frankie goes back to sucking your nipple and Tommy curls his fingers upwards against your walls, bringing his thumb to your clit and applying pressure. He marvels at the way your cunt grips his fingers and at how soft and spongy your walls are, feeling like heaven to him. You tighten around his fingers when you get close, in no time at all.

“Gonna come for me, darlin’? Soak my fingers,” he commands.

And you do, soaking his hand down to his wrist. Your orgasm intensified by Frankie’s mouth on your breast. The muscles in your core contract and release erratically before slowing down and stopping. Tommy pulls his hand from you slowly and walks over by your head, showing you the mess you made.

“Good girl,” he says before putting his fingers in his mouth.

“Better get down there and taste her pussy, Fish. She tastes so sweet,” he continues, licking his fingers clean.

Frankie moves down between your legs, kneeling on the floor and hooking his arms around your thighs. He licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt and once he’s had a taste he becomes insatiable, lapping at your wetness like a man dying of thirst. While he eats you out, Tommy stays by your head, caressing your face and talking you through it.

“He’s eating your pussy real good isn’t he, darlin’?”

You can only nod in response.

“I can tell. Look at the way you’re squirming. Dirty girl getting her pussy eaten in a public place.”

Oh fuck. You’re already getting close to the edge again, thanks to Frankie’s work on your cunt. The way he eats you is indescribable; some of the best you’ve ever had, if not the best.

Frankie pushes two fingers in your cunt, desperate to try and get you to squirt for him. And this is when you start seeing stars, back arched completely and the feeling too good to even be remotely quiet. And then you cum, hard and wet. Frankie was successful, your own release soaking the table underneath you as Frankie licks your cut coming down from its high.

“Good girl,” Tommy says, looking at the mess you made.

Frankie stands up and hastily takes his cock out of his jeans. Tommy does, too, before bringing a hand back to your face and saying, “You ready, darlin’? We’re gonna take good care of you.”

Tommy and Frankie share a glance, like they both understand Tommy will get your mouth and Frankie will get your cunt. You nod and get ready for Tommy’s cock in your mouth. He holds your hair and eases it in, letting your jaw get adjusted. Meanwhile Frankie spreads your wetness on his cock and slides into your cunt. You knew he’d be big but it literally feels like he’s splitting you apart, his cock expanding your walls with each of his trusts. The table creaks and makes noises against the force of Frankie’s thrusts, all while Tommy fucks your mouth, both your cunt and mouth feeling completely full.

“You like taking two cocks at once, dirty girl?” Tommy says looking down at you, his pupils blown wide.

You hum with a “Mhm” and Tommy curses under his breath at the vibration. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as Frankie fucks you deeper and deeper, the head of his cock grazing your cervix. He licks his thumb and brings it to your cunt. You’re not gonna last much longer. Your walls tighten up around his cock, getting rest for a big release. With one last thrust of his cock and swirl of his thumb on your clit, you’re coming and coming hard, crying out at the feeling.

Your cries trigger Tommy’s orgasm, his hands gripping your hair tighter and his head thrown back in pleasure. He spills his cum down your throat and you swallow all of it before he takes his cock out, letting you catch your breath.

He stands back and puts his cock away, telling Frankie, “She’s all yours now, Fish. Wreck that little pussy.”

And with that Frankie fucks you roughly, with so much force like he’s letting out his stress, frustration, and anger. A dark look washes over his face and it’s so fucking hot, like he’s using you; like you’re just a toy to him.

You cum again, just as hard if not harder than the last one. Your whole body tingling, starting at your core and spreading outwards. And when you cum, Frankie cums, too, his cum painting your insides. He slows his thrusts before slowly pulling out of you and catching his breath.

You sit up after a month and catch your breath, too, still in bliss of the moment but also realizing that you were probably in this room for a very long time and that you need to leave. You move to get off the table and Frankie helps you to your feet, while Tommy grabs your clothes. They help you get dressed since you’re truly spent.

“Good girl,” Frankie says, kissing the top of your head once you’re dressed.

“See? All that stress melted away thanks to you, darlin’,” Tommy chuckles, walking to the door.

“One at a time,” he says. You and Frankie nod. Tommy leaves first followed by you then Frankie. On the walk through the Legion and to the parking lot you keep your gaze averted to the floor, because people are definitely suspicious.

Tommy and Frankie walk you back to your car in the church parking lot but before they leave you Tommy says, “Same time next week?”

“Sounds good to me,” Frankie says, not missing a beat.

“Deal,” you laugh before getting in your car and driving away.

Group therapy has a whole new meaning.

End note: Let me know if you’d like to see anymore Tommy and Frankie content from me!! Either separately or in this little threesome lmao

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tommy miller #the last of us #triple frontier #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #tommy miller smut #triple frontier fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

359 notes · View notes

viking-raider · 6 months

Text

Thankful

Summary: For Thanksgiving, you decide to take part of a military support group event and host a Veteran, having them over for dinner. Forming a lasting bond with a certain Captain.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Angst, Mention of Loss of Family Member, Mourning, Cold Mother, Embarrassed!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Use, Fluff, Friendly Bets, Southern Charm

Inspiration: It’s for Thanksgiving. 🍗

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS! My Syverson's first name is Austin.

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

You had received the message from one of the countless Military support groups you were a part of about the Sponsoring a Veteran for Thanksgiving event, and if you were interested in participating. You had hesitated for a couple days, before finally caving. You didn't have much family left of your own, just your mother. Since your father passed, when you were a kid and your only sibling, a brother, had been killed in the line of duty. Which was why you were a member of the support groups, looking to keep a closeness to him, and find some sort of peace with his death.

“All right.” The lead organizer, retired Lieutenant Sarah Timmans, sighed, looking over her clipboard at the list of names of all the Veterans that had been signed up for the event. “Your mother knows you're hosting a Vet, right?” She asked, cocking a brow at you, knowing how sensitive and touchy your mother was still about being around anything directly Military.

“I told her, I was bringing a friend over.” You answered, biting your lip nervously, knowing your mother's own mood swings on the subject.

“Girl, she's going to flip out on you.” Sarah said, shaking her head, eyes bulging. “Maybe, you should just do something one-on-one with them?” She suggested, trying to bypass a disaster.

“She's expecting us, and I'll get an earful, if I skip another family gathering.”

Sarah snorted at you, smirking. “It's your KP!” She teased, going down the list to find your name and who you'd been assigned. “So, your Vet is Captain Austin Syverson. He just retired seven months ago after nineteen years in the service of the U.S Army. Special Forces.” She informed you, looking up from the clipboard to scan the crowded room for a moment.

“Ah, there he is!” She smiled, motioning behind you.

Turning around and following her gaze, you were surprised for a moment, standing on the other side of the room, in a small cluster of other Vets, was a tall, thickly muscular guy, with a shaved head and well groomed beard. Everything about him exuded authority, self-confidence and calm. He was so damn handsome in his pair of dark wash blue jeans, brown cowboy boots and fleshly ironed, black dress shirt that was tucked in, showing off his belt buckle. Your insides tingled as you stared at him, throat going dry.

“Damn, that's a Texas boy.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Sure is.” Sarah agreed, checking him out as well. “You should go introduce yourself, before he thinks you stood him up.” She added, a hint of encouragement in her voice.

“God, you're right.” You started, frightened he just might, then weaved through the crowd towards him, pausing for a moment, until he noticed you. “Hi there.” You beamed up at him, your knees like a nervous jelly.

“Ma'am.” Syverson greeted you back with a Southern drawl, tipping his head forward.

“I'm your host, Captain Syverson.” You informed him, introducing yourself.

“Oh.” He replied, giving you a proper look over, a smile pulling over his lips as he took your lovely figure in the white, knee-length dress covered in delicate yellow flowers, paired with black flats. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” He said, his bright blue eyes meeting yours once more. “You can just call me, Sy.”

“Nice to meet you as well, Sy.” You answered, cordially extending your hand.

Smirking broader, Sy gently took your hand in his, shaking it. “I'm grateful that you've allowed me impose myself on you and your family's holiday.”

“Oh, it's quite all right.” You waved it off, shrugging your shoulders. “It's really just me and my mom, so nothing major.”

“Well, I'm just a Captain, so it'll literally be nothing Major.” Sy quipped, making the group around him crackle at the inside joke.

You dropped your head, hiding your amused smile, knowing the two of you were more than likely to get along, if he had that sense of humor. “Fair.” You nodded, lifting your head. “More than fair. Well, we can leave whenever you like.”

Sy turned over his wrist to glance at his watch. “We can go now, if you like.” He replied, twisting to a chair that was behind him and picking up a black, denim Sherpa coat off the back. “I'll see you boys later. Have a good Thanksgiving.” He bid the men, patting a couple on the shoulder, before following you out of the building.

“You can follow me to my place or we can ride together.” You told Sy, standing on the sidewalk with him, chewing on your lip.

“I can follow.” Sy answered, smiling down at you. “My truck's just over there.” He said, motioning over to the big, 2021 Dodge Ram, parked a short distance away.

“Okay. I'm just right there.” You informed him, pointing out your little KIA Niro.

“On your lead then, Major.” Sy quipped, winking at you, before heading off towards his truck.

“Christ,” You huffed, watching after him for a moment, your hand moving up to a necklace around your neck. “He reminds me so much of you, Phelan.” You sighed, then made for your vehicle.

Pulling out of the parking space, your phone started to ring, so you connected the car's Bluetooth. “Mother.” You answered, glancing in your rear-view, to make sure Sy was behind you, before you started out of the parking lot and into the street.

“How much longer are you going to be?” Your mother snapped through the car's speakers.

“I'm just leaving now, mom.” You sighed, pressing your lips together. “I had to find my friend and now we're heading there now. We should be there in about ten or so minutes.”

“Why is he spending Thanksgiving with us? Doesn't he have his own family?” She demanded, clearly pacing the house.

“I'm sure he has a family, mother. But I invited him over to ours and he accepted. So, please, be nice to him. He's a very polite and outstanding person, who doesn't need to be pestered and guilt tripped, or reminded his mother is lucky, that her son is still alive and not in the military and so on.” You hoped to warn and deter her from her usual interaction with the males she came into contact with. “Let's just have a nice dinner, for once.”

“How can we, when your brother isn't here.” She growled, then the line went dead.

“At least, I'm here.” You sighed, deflated by her words. “I should really warn Sy before we get into the house.” You thought, then pushed that unpleasantness aside.

Sy managed to keep behind your car, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. He felt a little nervous about going to a random, pretty young lady's home to have Thanksgiving dinner with her mother. However, he didn't have any other plans for the holiday under his belt, other than staying on the ranch he'd started up on his return home with Aika.

“Idle hands are the devil's workshop.” He commented aloud, following you off the on-ramp.

It would have just been him and his pup, working the horses all day, before making another ten minute meal and sitting in front of his laptop, since he still hadn't gotten around to buying himself a proper tv for the living room. So, he let one of his buddies nag him into signing up for the event. Sy wasn't at all disappointed either.

You were more than easy on his eyes.

Finally making it outside your place, you got out and met Sy in your driveway, shifting glances between him and the front door.

“Are you all right?” Sy asked, squinting down at you.

“Okay, look.” You blurted out, not looking back at him. “My mom is super touchy about the military.” You started to explain to Sy, giving him an embarrassed glance.

“Why?” He frowned, confused.

Your shoulders slumped slightly and a tired expression washed over your face. “My brother died in Afghanistan six years ago. My mom has taken that to her heart and soul. So anything military tends to set her off.”

“Then, should I even be here?” Sy asked, concerned about causing your mother any distress.

“It's my house and you're my guest.” You told him, bluntly. “I want you here for dinner. It'll be nice to have someone over that might actually engage with me.” You said, heading up the footpath towards the front door. “And not remind me that I'm not my dead, older brother.” You added under your breath, but Sy's sharp ear heard you all the same.

“Mom!” You called out, toeing off your shoes as you stood in the entry with Sy. “We're here.”

“Took long enough.” Her voice echoed back somewhere in the house.

You looked up at Sy. “I'm so sorry.” You mouthed, shaking your head.

“It's all right.” He smiled, his hand touching the back of your arm.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked, showing him into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. “Got wine, a couple bottles.” You twisted your upper half to peek at an upper shelf. “Looks like she's left my Ardbeg whiskey alone.”

“I wouldn't mind a little whiskey.”

Nodding, you shut the fridge and got down two glasses with the whiskey bottle. “Straight or on the rocks?”

“What are you having?” Sy asked, leaning back against your sink, a twinkle of mischievous curiosity in his eyes.

“The rocks.” You answered, a playful smirk tugging on your lips.

Sy drew a breath in through his nose, pressing his lips together as he nodded. “Impressed.”

“Thank you.” You chuckled, grabbing a couple ice cubes from the freezer and dropped them into your glasses, then poured you and Sy a generous amount of amber liquid. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Sy tipped his head, taking the glass from you and took a sip. “Damn, that's smooth.”

“Mmm, for a twenty year old bottle, it should be.” You snorted, taking a gulp of yours.

“Twenty years.” Sy choked slightly. “Damn, almost as long as I was in--” He caught himself, eyes shooting to the two kitchen entrances. “Well, you know.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a little stiff, praying your mother was lurking nearby, and polished off your drink, before moving over to the oven, revealing a nice sized turkey, just starting to turn a golden brown, filling the kitchen with a mouth-watering scent. “I started this about an hour and a half ago, so it should have about another hour or so to go. While it does that, I can show you around.”

“And, if you're as much of a Texan as I think you are, I'll pop the football game on.”

“You don't have to put the game on.” Sy laughed, feeling called out. “We can watch whatever you and your mother want. I'd hate to impose.”

“Captain Austin Syverson, you're not imposing.” You informed him, putting your foot down.

Sy's eyes widened and he gave you a half smirk. “I do love a woman that takes charge. Yes, ma'am, if you say so.”

“Besides, I'd love to see the Chiefs kick the Cowboys ass.” You added, teasingly.

“Oh, you're a traitor to your home state!” Sy gasped, horror on his face.

“Texas isn't my home state.” You giggled at him, then tisked. “Kansas isn't either, to be far.” You snorted, amused by the banter. “But I like Mahomes.”

“What's wrong with Dak Prescott?”

“Nothing! He's a great QB. I'm just a Chiefs girl.”

“I may have to call this Thanksgiving off.” Sy said, draining his whiskey glass and set it on the counter behind him and pushed off the edge. “To eat at the same table as a Chiefs girl, may just be too much for this ol' Texas boy.”

You were worried for a moment that Sy was genuine, and felt terrible for bringing it up, until you finally noticed the look in his eye and relaxed. He had a dry humor and pulled it out on you, catching you good.

“Shoot, you had me there.” You chuckled, breathy.

He winked at you, amusing you more with his cute double blink.

“Well,” You sighed, looking at the kitchen. “This is the kitchen.”

“A very nice kitchen.” Sy echoed, nodding and rubbing a hand over the counter top. “Nice and clean.”

“Thank you, I do my best.” You replied, bowing your head. “Out that way is the dining room, where we'll be having dinner.” You said, motioning to your right, and Sy peeked in, finding a long, glass table already set for three people with nice little autumn decorations as a centerpiece. “Over here, is the living room, where we'll probably be starting our football rivalry.”

You showed him into the living room, just as your mother came downstairs, in nothing but a pair of loose shorts, a tank top and an open bathrobe, a half glass of white wine clutched in her hand. You felt a cold shard of embarrassment go down your back. You had hoped, when you told her you were going to get Sy, she would have dressed into something—anything.

“Mom, this is Sy.” You told her, keeping your voice even. “Sy, this is my mother, Dana.” You introduced them, chewing the inside of your lip to bits.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.” Sy greeted her politely, nodding his head kindly, like nothing was out of place.

She looked Sy over, taking a gulp of her wine. “How do you and my daughter know each other?” She inquired, lifting a brow at him.

You stiffened, you hadn't considered fielding that question from her while Sy was over.

“Work.” Sy said, casually.

“So, she's your accountant?” Dana pressed and showed no sign of easing off.

“I am.” You chimed in, hoping to get her to drop the subject and leave Sy alone.

“That she is.” Sy confirmed, backing you up. “Helps me out with my ranch.” He told Dana, tapping that belt buckle at his waist, bearing the Hook Hill Ranch logo on it.

“Hmm.” Your mother grunted, not sounding convinced. “Why aren't you spending Thanksgiving with your family?” She asked, giving Sy a hard look.

“Mom!” You snapped, horrified.

“It's all right.” He assured you, giving you a soft smile. “I'm an only child. I've never known my father and my mother ran off, when I was ten years old, leaving me to be raised by uncle, her brother. He had a heart attack three years ago, while milkin' his cows. So, it's just me and my dog, Aika, nowadays. Your daughter was kind enough to ask me over to your Thanksgiving dinner, and I accepted.”

“Satisfied?” You asked, annoyed your mother caused Sy to divulge such personal information.

Rolling her eyes, your mother turned in a flare of her bathrobe and headed back upstairs.

“Turkey will be done in an hour!” You called after her, with no reply. “I'm so sorry.” You said, turning back to Sy.

“It's okay.” He said softly, more concerned for you. “Is there anything I can do to help you finish up with dinner?”

“Um,” You tapped your foot. “No, I don't think so. Besides, you're my guest. You should relax.” You told him, waving over to the couch. “I can handle everything.” You assured him, rounding the arm of the couch to swipe the remote of the coffee table and turned the tv on, quickly finding the football game. “Ooh, Cowboys are beating the Chiefs by two points!” You hissed, casting a glance over your shoulder at Sy.

Sy moved to join you, holding your gaze. “I bet you a round of drinks, at a later time, that the Cowboys beat your Chiefs.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Syverson?” You asked, surprised.

“I am.” He admitted, unashamed.

“Then, you're on.” You grinned, giving him a cocky look. “But, if the Chiefs win, I want to see your ranch.”

“Bold.” Sy smirked, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I'll even cook for you.”

“Sold.” You agreed, extending your hand out to him.

He shook your hand, then sat down on the couch, getting comfortable to watch the game, while you returned to the kitchen. Pausing for a moment, you refilled his whiskey glass and took it out to him, giving him a soft smile as you set the cool glass down on a coaster and went back to prepping dinner. Sy watched you over the back of the couch, moving and bumping about, taking a deep breath and taking all the lovely smells of your hard work wafting towards him and making his belly rumble.

Lord have mercy, she's gorgeous.

“You sweet on my daughter?” Dana's voice came up behind him.

Sy's head swung around to look back at her, seeing she'd finally gotten dressed, now wearing a pair of black leggings and a loose, cream colored jumper, but no shoes or socks. “I just might be.” He answered, meeting her gaze head on. “She's a sweet, generous young lady.”

“Young lady, how old are you?” Dana huffed, dropping down into a recliner at the end of the couch.

“I'm thirty-eight.” Sy replied, with an odd amusement.

Dana looked Sy over, her gray eyes scrutinizing. “At least you're both in your thirties.” She huffed, curling her legs underneath her and glared at the tv.

What a curious woman. Sy blinked, shaking his head at her.

The two of them sat quietly, not speaking or interacting with each other any further. Which didn't bother either Sy or Dana. You peeked in at them from time to time, scurrying out to fill Sy's glass, whenever you noticed it was empty and always asking if he needed or wanted something, before vanishing back into the kitchen or dining room.

You wanted the dinner to be as great as possible for Sy, and your mother.

“Dinner is ready, everyone!” You declared, coming into the living room, glancing at the football score, discovering the Chiefs had recovered since the last time you'd entered, now ahead by four points.

“Smells delicious.” Sy complimented you, as he and your mother came into the dining room, finding the set table.

The turkey was juicy and golden-brown, slices already carved and on a plate beside it, with sides of stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls and cornbread muffins, yams with marshmallows, peas and asparagus, accompanied with pecan and pumpkin pie. There were two decanters of red and white wine, a bottle of Ardbeg, and a pitcher of iced tea.

“Thank you.” You grinned with shy pride, biting the inside of your lip. “Sit wherever you like and dig in.” You said, motioning to the chairs around the table, before slipping into one.

Sy joined you, winking at you, as he picked up a plate and started helping himself, piling his plate with meat, rolls, yams and cornbread. “Mmm, this is amazing.” He hummed, nodding his head and chewing his mouthful of turkey and mashed potatoes.

You were giddy that Sy was so in love with your cooking, glancing towards your mother, who was at the end of the table. But found she was sipping a glass of red and nibbling on a buttered roll, to your slight dismay. Pushing the feeling away, you fixed your plate and dug in, moaning at how tasty it was.

“So, your team was winning.” Sy commented, giving you a side brow as he continued to eat.

“Yeah, I noticed.” You smirked, feeling bubbly, as you poured yourself some wine. “Looks like we'll be spending some more time together.”

“That it does.” He nodded, feeling your mother's eyes on him. “I'll have to show you the new foal that was born last week.”

A flood of excitement filled you, you loved the thought of seeing a baby horse. “Oh! I bet they're just the cutest thing on the planet!” You gushed, eyes bright with love already. “What did you name it?”

“Oh, I haven't named the little rascal, yet.” Sy laughed, watching you just gush. “Maybe, you could help me come up with a name for her?” He suggested, looking at you over the rim of his whiskey glass.

“Hmm.” You hummed, falling into a meditative state as you brewed over a name for the baby horse.

“So,” Dana cleared her throat, eyes narrowed between you and Sy. “You're a Rancher?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Sy nodded, turning to regard her, nothing by polite respect in his expression.

“How long have you been one?” She questioned, swirling the wine in her glass.

“Ranchin' has been in my family for generations.” Sy replied, not letting her trip him up. “My many great-grandfather came over from Ireland, just after the American Revolution. Then, when the Civil War happened, my family fought and were granted land at the end, for their service. We've been doing it ever since.”

“So, your family fought for the South.” Dana said bluntly, causing you to choke on your food.

“Mother.” You rasped, eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“No, ma'am.” Sy said coolly. “We fought for the North.” He told her, and left it at that.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked her slowly, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

“No.” She answered, getting up and leaving the room.

“I'm so sorry, Sy.” You stuttered, ashamed of your mother.

“It's all right, love.” He shook his head, wiping his hands on his napkin. “It's not your fault. It's not hers either, really.” He said softly. “She's mourning her son, and doing so takes the form in many ways. That's how your Ma is coping with your brother no longer being on this Earth.” He told you, resting back in his chair and fixing his blue eyes on you. “You're coping by going to support groups and trying to understand the kind people that he was, that he worked with, that he died surrounded by.”

You bit your lip, a lump of emotion strangling you and blurring your eyes; Sy was right. You wanted to be surrounded by those like your brother. It was like still having him there, in a way. You felt the strong, rough warmth of Sy's hand slip into yours, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb over your wrist as the two of you sat there, quiet and surrounded by your Thanksgiving feast.

“You know,” Sy spoke, breaking the silence. “I could actually use an accountant for my ranch.” He said, smirking over at you. “Plus, how about drinks at my place, while you figure out a new name for my foal? Who cares who wins the game.” He chuckled, arching a suggestive brow at you.

“Are you hinting at a sort of date, Syverson?” You asked, playfully thumb warred him.

“It's possible.” Sy laughed, letting you pin his thumb. “Maybe, I'll even cook you Christmas dinner.”

“Oh, I think I'd like that.” You told him, grinning, thankful you'd decided to host him for Thanksgiving.

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