#call it foolish but i feel like there’s greatness in me. and maybe if the right knobs were tweaked i could manifest it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jimblejamblewritings · 20 days

Text

love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search.

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition.

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received.

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all.

Yours truly,

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there.

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea.

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws.

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed.

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom.

Yours truly,

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention.

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them.

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama.

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters.

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.”

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them.

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?”

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?”

“Everything is wrong with that.”

“Hmm.”

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face.

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.”

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?”

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.”

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.”

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said.

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.”

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud:

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered.

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her.

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.”

“Piss off.”

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms.

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.”

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell.

“I don’t want this anymore.”

“Cecilia.”

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.”

“Cecilia.”

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.”

“Cecilia.”

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.”

“Please, just give u—”

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.”

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.”

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.”

“I second that.”

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.”

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything.

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?”

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.”

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.”

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society.

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today.

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps.

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness.

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get.

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham.

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month.

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen.

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.”

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?”

“Not your room?”

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.”

“You are getting restless.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?”

“Oh yes, she’s fine.”

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.”

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name.

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact.

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.”

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.”

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.”

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?”

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.”

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you.

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?”

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.”

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?”

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And, by the way, I already washed up.”

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.”

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room.

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora.

“Oh, good. It is just you.”

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?”

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.”

“What?”

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.”

“Your Highness.”

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.”

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.”

She gasped as you hugged her.

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.”

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.”

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination.

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?”

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it.

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs.

“Is there a problem, Marshall?”

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.”

“WHAT?!”

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back.

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance.

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss.

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…”

“Keaton,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name.

“Mrs. Keaton?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all.

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.”

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.”

You nodded. “Simply Miss Keaton.”

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.”

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues.

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.”

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.”

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.”

They all chuckled when you laughed.

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.”

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you.

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?”

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.”

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?”

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time.

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.”

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.”

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.”

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie @daykrisr999

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x princess!reader #benedict fluff #bridgerton fluff #fic

468 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

Hii, I hope you’re having great day/night. I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your Aaron writing, especially Aaron Hotchner x single mom!reader. I read your requesting rules and I hope that this qualifies (I’m really sorry if it doesn’t), but I’ve been thinking about this concept for a while so I thought I’d give it a try. I absolutely adored how reader’s child always adored Hotchner but this time I was thinking what about reader’s daughter (around 4 or 5) who actually feels intimidated by Hotch (because you know this ‘scary bossman persona’) or maybe reader’s daughter that is not the biggest fan of Hotch and is possibly very sassy with him and is protective of her mum but reader and Hotch have this slightly flirty or like the very beginning of their relationship with a possibly fluffy/happy ending if that’s possible.

You really do feel bad knocking on Hotch's office door at 7:30 in the morning, for both your sleepy daughter and your formidable boss. He's a kind man, you know that with all of your heart, but to your tiny four-year old, he's tall, mean, and scary.

"Come in," Hotch calls, his voice muffled through the door. At the sound, your daughter curls tighter into your embrace, whining pitifully through the blanket that she's wrapped around her head.

"I know, Olivia," You hum, trying to soothe her nerves, "Just for a minute. You can sit on the couch, that's all."

She squirms in your hold while you open the door, smiling hesitantly when Hotch looks up from his paperwork to find you cradling your groggy daughter.

"She's got a cold, and the sitter cancelled," You lament, "And- uh, I need to use the bathroom."

You're constantly surprised at how strongly Aaron cares for children, because someone with his scowl doesn't seem the type. But his eyes flash with worry, and he leans back from his desk in his chair, "Do you think she'll let me hold her?"

Olivia writhes in your hold, a firm no.

"It's okay," You hum, kissing her head though it helps little, "It's okay, baby, I'm gonna put you on the couch, okay? Get cozy with your blanket," You hum, laying her on the cushions before she has the chance to curl her fingers into your blouse and never let go, "And just try to sleep, I'll be back in just a few minutes, okay?"

She moans something that sounds an awful lot like 'not okay!' but you can't afford to listen, not when your bladder is making its contents uncomfortably known.

"Okay, I'll- I'll be right back," You promise Hotch, straightening your clothes that were wrinkled by your clingy daughter, "I'm sorry about this, I'll make sure she's at home tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it," Hotch urges, "Go, I'll make sure she's okay."

"Thanks," You grin, exhaustion seeping over your features after the long, nearly sleepless night you'd had. You duck out of Hotch's office with no further delay, rushing over to the elevator bay and the bathrooms on the other side of it.

"Olivia," Hotch hums after a moment of silence where the little girl tries burrowing between his couch cushions to escape his presence, "Did your mommy give you medicine already?"

She's scared, but she's still polite.

"Yes," She calls, from inside of her blanket cocoon, but there's no further response.

"Alright," Aaron hums quietly, fingers fiddling awkwardly with his pen, "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"No."

'Okay. Just... let me know if you need anything, okay?" He calls, any foolish hope he'd had of connecting with the little girl seeping out of his chest when she doesn't answer.

Thirteen minutes. It takes you thirteen minutes to get through the line outside of the restroom, who knew this place would be so packed early in the morning? It takes you longer still to actually use the bathroom, and you're teetering on twenty minutes when you jog back up the stairs of Hotch's office to collect your sullen kid.

You don't bother knocking, too rushed to get inside and apologize for sticking Hotch with your sick, terrified toddler for almost half an hour, and to apologize to Olivia for abandoning her with the big scary man who tells you what to do all day.

But Hotch isn't displeased with your rather impolite and abrupt entrance, staying silent as he peers over the blanket hood that Olivia has fashioned for herself. She's held against his chest, her clammy face tucked against his tie. His arms hold her tight and close, and he bounces her ever-so-slightly up and down as he soothes her whiny cries.

"Your mommy's here," He hums, craning his neck down to peer at her, and you're still partially frozen in shock at seeing Olivia cradled up in the arms of the man she runs from at dinner parties, "Would you like to see her?"

Olivia's responsive whine is less-than-clear, neither a yes nor a no. But you advance anyways, eyes surely showcasing your surprise at Hotch's sudden success with your daughter. Upon closer inspection, her tiny hand is gripping his tie tightly, the way that she holds the collar of your shirt when she doesn't want you to let her go. She's all bundled up and sniffling against his chest, surely feeling the symptoms of her cold that the medicine didn't cover.

"My poor baby," You lament, leaning down to kiss her forehead. It puts your face tantalizingly close to Hotch's own, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't feeling some butterflies through your stomach at the sight of him bouncing your baby girl in his arms, "Will you come with me? We can go sit at mommy's desk, and you can go to sleep."

This time, you understand her response.

"No!" She whines, desperately burrowing further into Hotch's warm embrace, "I'm- tired!" She sobs, voice raw from crying, "I want to stay!"

Before you can figure out how to bargain her out of Aaron's arms and into your own he shushes her, leaning down to kiss her feverish temple like she's his own. The sight flips your stomach even further, and you're very glad Aaron can't read your mind at the moment.

"It's okay. You can stay here if you really want to. Are you sure?" He squeezes her to prompt a response, but the only one she gives is nodding her head and pressing her face into his tie.

"Hotch, I'm sorry-" You start, but he smiles kindly, warmly up at you.

"It's alright. I can keep her in here for a bit, if you want to get started for the day."

"But you've got work to do. And you might get sick," Your shoulders slump, because even though you're thrilled that Olivia has finally seemed to get over her Hotchnerphobia, you don't want to push your luck after being fifteen minutes late to retrieve your daughter that isn't supposed to be here in the first place.

"Easy paperwork," Hotch waves it off, smiling as Olivia readjusts her grip on his tie, "Just signatures, really. I've got time. Plus, if I'm gonna get sick, it'll probably be from Jack. He brings home germs from school all the time."

"That's their special talent," You muse, stroking a hand over Olivia's wispy hair, "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure, Y/N," Aaron nods, continuing to bounce her lightly in his arms with a fond grin while her eyes remain loosely shut, "I finally got her to like me - I'm not sure I'd be able to put her down if she did want to go with you."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenarip #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

Note

hiii! I just wanted to say I absolutely love your fics, you write Daryl so accurate and well 😊 beautiful reads all throughout your page!!

I was wondering if you could write something where daryl comes to like the reader eventually (fem!reader), and she’s shy, keeps her distance, and only is spoke when spoken to, a little like Daryl himself! he then goes to her home to ask her about what stock is needed for foods or something idk haha (Alexandria era) and sees her masturbating through the window, calling out his name, obviously he had no idea she even liked him as she keeps herself to herself. so he joins her, and guides her through it 😉

I hope this is okay to work with if you wanted to use it! Have a great day 🤎🙏🏽

A spider fell on me while I was writing this :') and thank you so much for your compliments they mean the world!!!

Note: OOOOOO SPICYYYYYY

Don't Stutter

18+ MDNI || Warnings: profanity, graphic depictions of masturbation and smut, fingering

No summary needed, request says it all :)

**NSFW GIF BELOW CUT**

He watched from a distance as you strolled through the streets of the peaceful community. Not a single incident in months, how about that? It was nice to relax for a while.

Deanna had put a halt on recruiting for a while, after the attack by the Wolves, so Daryl had kind of been twiddling his thumbs, begging for an excuse to leave beyond the walls. He felt so closed up.

He had too much time on his hands, too much room in his brain for thoughts and feelings. He didn't like it. Ever since he stopped going out, he crossed your path often. You were quiet, shy even. You rarely spoke up unless spoken to. You didn't make eye contact often, if at all. But most of all, you were beautiful. From your head to your toes. He'd often find himself admiring your (hair length) (hair color) hair. It framed your face perfectly. When the sun would shine just right, your (skin tone) skin would glow in ways he hadn't noticed before.

Your body was something else entirely. The shape of you drove him nuts. The way your ass swayed when you walked. You didn't even have to try, you were effortlessly seductive.

He gulped as you walked up your steps and went inside. He wondered how hard it would be to initiate a conversation, to get to know you. He shook his head. Surely that was a foolish idea. As a whole, he had bigger things he needed to be worried about. So, surely asking you about something important would be harmless, right?

You worked at the pantry with Olivia, who had mentioned to him recently that they'd need to stock up soon. He decided to ask you to make him a list. Then, he'd get to talk to you, and he'd have an excuse to go on a run. Two birds, one stone, right? Right. He sucked in a breath of confidence and strode to your door. He went to knock but his fist stopped just centimeters from the door.

"Oh.." He heard you whine. Were you crying? He tried to peek through the tall slender windows on either side of your door. The glass was lightly frosted, so the image was blurry, but he could make out a silhouette on the couch.

"Daryl.." You moaned out louder. His heart stopped. His neck and ears heated ashe gulped. Were you...?

----

You stared at the sidewalk as you walked home from work. You couldn't get the image out of your mind. Daryl was there earlier, rearranging shelves for you and Olivia. In his tight black button up shirt, his muscles bulged against the fabric, aching to bust out. Or, maybe you were just aching to bust them out. Either way, your lustful mind couldn't get enough. The visual was painted vividly in your mind's eye, and you'd be storing it permanently in your vault of lewd thoughts about the quiet archer.

The entire rest of your shift was spent silently fantasizing about all the ways you'd let him use and abuse you, if only he wanted anything to do with you. You'd never even spoken to him, beyond a quiet and polite thank you or a curt nod in passing. By the time you made it to your door, you were throbbing between your legs. You couldn't hold it back. You didn't even care to scurry up the stairs and hide away in your bed. No, you simply threw your pants to the ground and sprawled out on the couch, slipping your fingers right inside your panties.

You started with a gentle trace up and down your slit with a single finger. You stared up at the ceiling, using your imaginary paintbrush to paint a picture on the white canvas. Images of Daryl, his arms, his hands, the way he walked, each drag of a cigarette.

You got worked up pretty fast. You got tired of teasing yourself. Wasn't lusting over an unattainable man torture enough?

You slipped a finger inside yourself and sucked in a sharp breath, using your wetness to rub circles over your clit. "Oh..." You whined, closing your eyes, picturing his fingers in place of your own. You sped up the pace a little, rocking your hips as the tension began to build. You pictured the way he'd look down at you if he were there instead of your fingers. How he'd hold you still so you couldn't wiggle out of his grasp, how he'd make you cum until you begged him to stop, and he'd probably keep going.

"Daryl.." You moaned out, feeling a knot build in your abdomen. You were getting so close.

----

He listened closely. You were moaning, that was for sure, but all he could see through the foggy windows was a blob on the couch that appeared to be moving.

Fuck it, he thought. The tension was killing him. If you were moaning his name in there, there was no reason for him to hold back and be polite. He only hoped he could catch you in the act.

He carefully grabbed the doorknob, hoping you wouldn't hear him. He twisted softly, and when he realized it wasn't locked, he pushed the door open.

You jumped up and pulled your hand out of your panties, startled and wide-eyed as you stared at him. Shame washed over you as he gazed at you, pushing the door shut behind him.

"Daryl.." You breathed quietly. Your heart was beating so fast your chest could explode. He made slow steps over to you. Each thump of his boots on your floor made you flinch. "W-What are you doing..?"

He glanced down at your wet panties and back up to you as he approached, towering over where you sat on the couch.

"Could be askin' you the same." He rasped. You gulped.

"I was just--"

"You were sayin' my name." He cut you off. Your eyes grew wide. So, he definitely heard you.

"No I wasn't." You lied.

"Mm." He hummed. "Sure sounded like it."

"Well even if I was you shouldn't be eavesdropping at my front--"

"Shh." He hushed, tracing a calloused finger over your lips and down the front of your throat, hooking it on the collar of your shirt. His gaze was predatory, scanning down your body with a sense of starvation that made you tremble.

He dragged another finger up your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He admired the goosebumps that raised on your soft skin in the wake of his touch. His eyes met yours.

"Tell me to stop and I will." He whispered. Your eyes widened as he leaned in and fluttered shut as his lips brushed against yours. You gasped into the kiss as he snapped with elastic of your underwear against your skin. He pulled back and peered down between your legs. You hadn't told him to stop, but he still hoped his next move would be okay. "Lemme see."

"W-What?"

"Lemme see." He repeated, tugging at the hem of your panties. You were too nerve stricken to act, so you just nodded.

Slowly, he dragged your panties down your thighs and held them up with a nearly invisible smirk. You glanced at the wet spot and blushed shamefully. "All for me?" He teased.

He spread your legs wide.

"Show me." He instructed. Your eyebrows met in confusion. "Show me how ya play with yourself." He clarified.

"I-- I don't.."

"Don't get nervous on me now. Sounded like ya had it under control just a minute ago."

With a shaky hand, you reached between your legs and aimlessly traced a circle over your clit with a single finger, never looking away from his face. He watched you for a minute and shook his head.

"Stop." He ordered. You did. You gasped as he traced his own finger right down your slit one time. "Like this..." He took your finger back to your clit and guided it, gentle laps around your clit causing your hips to jerk. "Now, do it just like that."

You continued as he took his hand away, holding back the noises that threatened to escape. You kept asking yourself what you were doing, if this was even real.

He admired the show for some time, but it became quickly apparent you'd never make yourself cum with him watching like that. You were too nervous and clumsy. You couldn't keep a rhythm and you faltered every time you started to build yourself up to a climax. He gently pulled your hand to the side again.

"Need some help?" He offered. You didn't respond. "Need an answer, darlin'."

You hesitantly nodded.

"Mm. Gon' need more than that." He taunted cockily. You nodded quicker this time, eagerness in your eyes. He smirked. "That's more like it.." He cooed, tracing his fingers up and down your clit gently. You let out a tiny whine.

Between him cutting you off right before you came earlier, and all those times you almost came trying to masturbate in front of him, you were so sensitive, and he could tell. Your clit was swollen and red and every little touch made you jolt and writhe.

"Don't hold out on me. Let me know ya like it." He said as he slipped a finger inside you. You gasped and moaned as he massaged you, slipping a second finger in when he found your sweet spot. You bit down on your bottom lip and rolled your hips. Your moans grew louder and more confident as pleasure crept over you. That bashful, reserved girl from the pantry was quickly melting away, leaving you in a raw, lustful, dirty state.

Your eyes closed as your head fell back on the couch. His thumb pressed down on your clit as his fingers worked carefully inside. You moaned again as his rough thumb traced skillful circles over the sensitive area.

"Say my name." He ordered.

"Daryl.." You moaned shamelessly. He smirked.

"Again."

"Daryl." You whined. He was getting you close.

"Look at me." He demanded.

You opened your eyes and watched him. Your eyelids were lazy and your eyes were glazed and sex drunk.

"Say it."

"Daryl." You squeaked. You were so close. That knot in your stomach was back, tied so tight that the rope was begging to snap.

"What's my name?"

"Daryl." You breathed.

"C'mon, darlin.' Ya wanna cum or not?"

"Daryl... Daryl.."

"That's it." He slowed his pace to a stop, leaving you right at the edge.

"Daryl!" You whined and pouted.

He ignored your plea and pulled your shirt over your head before he tugged your bra down to expose your breasts. Your nipples were hard and bumps littered your skin as the cold air conditioning hit them. He pinched one hard, eliciting a small cry. He played with them a little before he slipped his fingers back inside you and worked his thumb over your clit again. You shuttered and exhaled a shaky moan. That was like, the fourth or fifth time your orgasm was cut off right before it started. It was torture. Painful, blissful, pleasurable torture.

You flinched and squirmed against his fingers, walls clenching and pulsating around his fingers, making it a little harder for him to work them. Nonetheless, he pressed on.

"Look at me." He demanded. You obeyed. Your eyes welled up with tears as he built you back up.

"Please..."You begged.

"Please, what?"

"Please, Daryl."

"Wha'd'ya want?"

"Please, Daryl. I wanna cum."

Triumph washed over him as you begged.

"I'm so close." You whispered.

"Then say it."

"Daryl." You cried.

"Again."

"D-Daryl.."

"Don't stutter."

"Daryl!" You moaned loud. A wave washed over you as you finally reached the climax. Your body shuddered, legs shaking as you moaned and writhed. He kept going until you rode the entirety of your high, only stopping when he was sure you couldn't take anymore.

He looked down at the wet stain between your legs where the couch cushion soaked up all your cum, save for the mess all over his fingers. You shook and whined as he pulled his fingers out, watching with your mouth hung open as he sucked them clean and licked his lips.

"Next time, just ask." He whispered as he kissed your forehead and left your house.

Join the taglist! || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow

#daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon smut #mdni #18+ mdni #minors dni #not safe for minors #no minors allowed #smut

412 notes · View notes

arcanumofthestars · 3 months

Note

sorry if its weird- I just got out of a toxic relationship and have been absolutely LIVING! for the Hazbin and Helluva boss boys being sweet! Could you maybe do something like ideal dates they would do with a reader? Anything really- just in the genre of like 'cute little scenarios you'd make up before falling asleep'

ps loved your alastor headcannon <3

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss boys' ideal dates (part 1)

Sum: Where they would prefer to spend their time with you as a date.

Characters included: Alastor, Lucifer, Angel Dust, Blitzø, Stolas, Moxie

Warnings: none, it's just fluff, except for like, three curse words and Angel Dust's job (I've put a note on where that part starts). Reader is gender neutral, if I have missed a pronoun here or there please let me know.

Alastor

Alastor lived in the 1930s. That’s all that needs to be said. A really classy dinner in the most expensive restaurant there is, with low lights and candles. And live music. Oh, the live music. Hell might be a filthy place, but the songs are… well… heavenly. You chat and laugh and eat with the soft sound of the sax playing in the background, the Imp on the stage singing “Somewhere over the rainbow” in a sensual voice. Once you finish eating, Alastor gets up and goes over to the stage. He says something to the musicians and they start playing a quicker rhythm, which you quickly recognize to be one of the most popular dances in the 30’s, called the jive. And you’re not surprised when your date offers you his hand and guides you to the dancing floor.

After a long night, you two go for a walk outside, chatting mainly about the Hotel. You tell him that you believe in redemption, and he finds it foolish, yet adorable. After that, the conversation gets deeper. You talk about secret hopes and regrets, about your lives on earth, what you would have done differently. It’s the first time Alastor is being this open with someone, and you know it. Your date ends with him walking you back to your hotel room and kissing your hand gently, before he wishes goodnight and walks away with one of his few real smiles.

Lucifer

Lucifer gets easily bored- no, tired with all the “King of Hell” bullshit. After all, he’s just a father whose wife recently dumped him. And at first it was really hard for you two to get close, him being afraid you would leave him like everyone else did. You’re not that kind of person, and he knows that now. Still, going out can sometimes be too much for him. All the Sinners and Hellborn running the moment they see him, it makes him feel more lonely, even with you by his side.

So he prefers to stay at home. You two make something to eat, like pancakes (they’re his favorite, trust me). As you eat, you start talking about anything and everything- except ducks, that’s a sensitive subject. The conversation will most likely end with Lucifer showing you some old album with photos of him playing with Charlie when she was a child. After you finish eating, you cuddle on the couch, watching TV. He ends up falling asleep in your arms (you’re the big spoon and I’m not negotiating over that), your fingers caressing his blonde hair.

Angel Dust

Before you proceed, I would like to note that this work includes mentions of Angel Dust’s job. If this kind of content is triggering for you, I would suggest reading only the second paragraph.

Angel’s job is a great part of his life. He might hate it because of Valentino but it is what he does best. So of course he wants to show you his talent- pole dancing. The best place to do that is a famous club near the Hotel (one that Valentino doesn’t go to often.) The owner is more than happy to have the famous Angel Dust dancing exclusively in their business, even if it is only for one night. The show starts, and Angel dedicates the night to you, making all the sinners turn around to see the one that stole the pornstar’s heart. The Spider Demon doesn’t fail to make you blush repeatedly during the show, teasing you openly, in a way you haven’t seen before, not even in his movies.

After the performance ends, you’re too shy to even talk to him, a situation that ends with huge amounts of laughing from both of you. After that you go for a walk outside, and probably have some takeout, because, well, Charlie decided that four times a week the Hotel will be serving boiled vegetables for dinner, “so everyone can stay healthy”, and it isn’t exactly the ideal food for a day. You two end up dancing in the music of some other club in the city, hidden from all eyes. Angel is amazed with the fact that you can enjoy something as simple as that. When you finally head back to the hotel, he replays the sweet moments over and over again in his head and that’s maybe one of the first times he’s blushed from something like that.

Stolas

When I say Stolas has money, I mean you couldn't spend one milionth of it in this lifetime, even if you wanted. He's used to paying for everything, so he really doesn't mind you choosing where you want to go- even if it is the most expensive place in Hell. He has a small panick attack on what he should wear, poor thing hasn't been to a date since, well, forever. He is extremely nervous when he comes to pick you up, but quickly relaxes when you start a conversation. The place is absolutely adorable after all you chose it, and the food is really delicious. Well, I don't have to say much, it's your typical ideal date.

After you two finish eating, you go to the Owl Demon's house (or castle I don't think something that huge is a house). You stand at the balcony for a long time, gazing at the stars, occasionally making a comment on astronomy (after you found out about Stolas' obsession with celestial objects you made your own research). The moments are truly blissful, and when he takes your hand and guides you inside, it's the most sweet thing you have ever seen- he doesn't want anything but you close to him, to feel you scent as he wraps his hands around your waist, burying his face in your neck, trying to get as much of you as possible. Not in a naughty sort of way. Just you, him, and the stars.

Blitzø

Blitz simply doesn't have the time. Don't mistake me, he loves you, but his job is taking up most his days and even with Moxie and Millie's help, he barely manages. He always finds a way to be with you if not daily, three or four times a week. Sometimes you just visit the I.M.P. "facility" and tidy up a bit while he's away, maybe make lunch for everyone and hang out with Loona, who surprisingly thinks you're a very cool person. Sometimes you join him in his little "adventures" in the human world, after all it's a great workout and you have to keep fit.

If Blitz actually finds some time to spend with you exclusively, it will either be eating snacks, cuddling on the couch with him complaining about work. Or. The most extreme fucking thing you ever imagined, like, extreme sports or something. The Imp loves the adrenaline in his veins, and you do too, once you get used to it. After all you'd do anything to spend time with the man you fell in love with. You're a bit dazed afterwards but for some reason he loves seeing you tripping around.

Moxie

Moxie is what you'd call a lovebird. The stereotype one. He buys you flowers and escorts you to the car, putting a rose in your hair or something like that. His suit is literally perfect and you wonder how many times he must have ironed it before he came to your place. Moxie is nervous. Really really nervous. He wants everything to be perfect, but once you reassure him, telling him that everything will be perfect just because you two are together he finally gets to relax. As he drives you there, you constantly ask where you're going (he only told you to dress classy and he's not disappointed with the results), but he doesn't tell you anything. "It's a surprise, you'll like it, I promise". The place is absolutely gorgeous but you can't help but wonder how much it cost... But Moxie's got you covered.

It's the ideal date. And gosh you have so much to talk about. When it ends (the Imp implies every four seconds that there will be more), the moment finds you standing in front of your house door, starting into each others eyes. Because in Hell, you found a soulmate.

That's all for now! I'm sorry that it's too short, I didn't have more time with my upcoming exams. I promise there will be a lot more though! I'm already working on a part two.

The characters that will be included are: Husker, Vox, Valentino, Adam, Sir Pentious, Fizzarolli, Striker.

If you want me to add any more, feel free to ask.

My requests are closed at the moment, regarding anything else. I will open them again around mid or end of March, though it's not sure yet.

Thanks for reading!

-Selena

#selenapost #answered #request #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #angel dust x reader #stolas x reader #blitz x reader #moxie x reader #helluva boss

299 notes · View notes

gtgbabie0 · 10 months

Note

HI, i love your work about the marauders and hotd and i was wondering if u would write cregan stark fluff with jealous reader but if u don't want to its okay. HAVE A GREAT DAY

-Cregan Stark x reader

{House Ryswell seeks an audience with Cregan Stark, and their daughter seems to take quite a liking to him}

I got extremely carried away with this, I hope you enjoy lovelies! 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It's strange how time can seem so slow when your mood has been soured by something so silly, something that you're sure you have made up in your own mind, to defend the feeling of this unadulterated jealousy that slithers its way at your heart tugging on it every so often.

Foolish, you think, although you're not quite sure what exactly it is about this whole situation you find, foolish. Is it the way, Cregan smiles at the ever-beautiful Lady Darla of house Rsywell? or is it because your mind has convinced you that Cregan would break your trust like that? maybe, it's her ever thinking she stood a chance with your husband. Whatever it might be it's sure is foolish.

But it's real nonetheless, horrible and very real. The jealousy that bubbles deep within you only fuels the doubts that plague your mind, and those same thoughts conjure another dreadful feeling, something that pinches at your heart as you watch Lady Ryswell place a dainty hand on Cregan's arm, insecurity it finds an unwelcome home within your chest.

Despite sitting so close to Cregan, you still feel miles away, watching him converse, lost, within his own world with the Lady next to him. You feel ignored and as you glance around the room you're sure that everyone else sees it too, you've been pushed aside like some sickly wife that's nearing her time.

It's only when you hear Cregan's warm chuckle do you look over to the pair once again, her hand sits higher up on his arm, there's something about the sight that breaks you. As if it couldn't get any worse Drala turns to you with a smile that makes you sick to your stomach, warm and inviting.

"Your Husband is so charming Lady Stark" she giggles, her hand still against his arm, and you swear she squeezes it ever so softly.

Slamming your cup down against the wooden table, with more vigour than you had meant, you clear your throat, "Yes he is- charmed me right into marriage" It gets a laugh or two from the others is House Ryswell.

Drala's mother even leans to you whispering a humoured, "My husband could learn a thing or two" You watch as she glances over at him with a teary smile, he seemed quite caught up with gawking at the maids, "That man knows nothing of charm" she spits before leaning back into her chair.

Cregan's hand rests against your thigh, and for a second, your racing mind seems to calm down, it's as if you can finally breathe, and then he pulls away going back to what must be a riveting conversation with Darla. You've had enough of this torture, no longer being able to bare it you call for Lyra, keeping a hushed tone as she bends down to you slightly.

"I think I am ready to retire for tonight," you tell her through gritted teeth, trying to keep the barrage of emotions at bay, she gives you an understanding nod.

"Of course M'lady " She smiles softly as she hurries off to your bedchambers preparing a change of clothes for your arrival.

You stand keeping a strict posture, it's only now do you feel as if you finally have caught Cregan's attention. "Forgive me, but I think I shall call it a night" You bite back the tears that collect along your lash line nibbling your cheek.

"Aw already? Just when I thought our conversation was bearing good fruit" she whines, her voice going straight through you just like nails on a chalkboard, she pouts, a spoiled brat who knows no discipline.

"Oh please, don't feel inclined to stop on my behalf" You smile with a curt bow before turning your heel and leaving, ignoring the way Cregan calls for you, an advance he must've given up on quite quickly as Darla calls for more drinks practically begging your husband to stay, you don't hear the rest of the conversation too focused on trying to calm your breathing.

"Lady Stark" Lyra bows softly as you walk into your bedchambers, shutting the heavy wooden door behind you with an exasperated sigh. "I have prepared you some tea m'lady," she says with a gentle tone as you sit down in front of your vanity. She makes starts to unclasp your necklace.

"Thank you Lyra, you're far to-" and before you can finish your sentence the door opens with a low groan. You don't bother turning around already knowing who it is.

"Lyra, could you give us a minute" Cregan huffs, sounding very unamused as he walks into the candle-lit room.

"Of course m'lord," she says, bowing as she rushes out of the room, and it's then the silence hits, smothering the room with its thick presence that you're sure it could snuff out the flames of the various candles.

You look at him through the reflection of the mirror as he sits down on the fur-covered sofa, running a hand through his hair before finally glancing over at you, there's something in his eyes that makes you feel... small, you have always said you would hate to be on the receiving end of Cregan's anger, that any man to challenge him would be a fool.

"Would you like to explain to me what exactly just happened?" he asks, frustration seeping into his tone and your answer or rather lack thereof only fuels it further. "Do you find pleasure in ignoring me?" he huffs, giving you a rather annoyed look.

And as childish as it might seem, you were. "Yes, well now you know how it feels, don't you?" you mumble, untying the pins in your hair before taking off your rings.

"What?" he questions watching in slight shock as you stand up, the chair behind you drags along the floor with a shriek.

"Tell me, Cregan, do you think our marriage is a farce?" you ask turning to face him with tears in your eyes, tears that you try so hard to hold back, "Do you take enjoyment out of making a mockery of our marriage?" your hands shake with the sudden adrenaline as you point at him, your finger nudging his should as rage pinches at your skin, he looks up at you with hurt in his eyes and for a minute you feel inclined to apologise.

He stands up, trying to reach for your hands but you don't let him as you pull away from his touch, he accepts defeat with a heavy heart, the sight of your tearful face makes his stomach drop.

"A farce? What in the seven hells are you on about women?" the hurt that sits in his chest slowly churns into something much more as it wraps around his heart squeezing it with force.

"Do not play ignorant with me Cregan" You speak through gritted teeth as he inches closer to you, "You sat there the entire night ignoring me whilst you entertained that naive girl" You feel your knees buckle under the stress of it all as you fall back onto the bed with a soft bounce.

"I was merely trying to be a good host" his voice is so gentle, calm that it makes you angrier.

"Being a good host does not substitute you pushing me aside like some sick dog as you fool around with her!- the entire night." you huff biting the inside of your lip.

"You're jealous?" he asks in almost disbelief.

"What?- Jealous I'm-" You can't deny it, you were, you were jealous of the pretty Ryswell girl and how she seemed to have captured Cregan's attention.

"You are missing my point entirely," you whisper leaning into him as he sits down on the bed next to you.

"I'm sorry- you're right, I should've paid more attention to you," he says, wiping away the tears that fall from your eyes, "I meant no harm by it, I swear." he presses a gentle kiss to your hairline.

"It was embarrassing Cregan, the way they all looked at me with pity in their eyes. I am your wife." you sigh, the events of tonight wearing down on you more than you thought, and now the fabric of your dress felt all too tight and itchy.

"Forgive me my love- my beautiful wife" he says pressing another kiss to your shoulder as he helps you up from the bed.

"You can get Lyra to help me if you want to go back to entertaining our guests" you whisper, testing him a little as you sneak a glance his way.

"There are no guests to entertain sweetheart, I called it off as soon as you left," he mumbles against your neck as he continues to peppers soft kisses to your warming skin.

He undoes the lace of your dress, pulling at the fabric as it loosens around your shoulders, coming undone to reveal your back, his gentle fingers trailing along your spine as his soft lips traverse to your neck.

"I never meant to hurt you or make you doubt your place within my heart" he whispers as he tugs your dress completely off, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud before going to get your nightdress, slipping the soft fabric over your body before wrapping his strong arms around your middle, nuzzling his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he breathes in deeply.

"I swear, by the old gods and new that my heart belongs to you, all of it." Cregan turns you around to face him and it's only then he sees your tear-stained face, the way your bottom lip juts out at his loving words.

"I love you," he says as you push your face against his chest, letting all the built-up emotions go as they leave you in the form of tears. His big hand soothes the expanse of your back as he sways you in his arms ever so gently. He swears to never make you feel as you did tonight, ever again.

"I love you too" you whisper against the leather he is wearing. He cups your face within his hands, the warmth of his palms bleeding with affection as his thumb soothes against the apples of your cheeks.

"Come on my love, let's go to bed eh?" you nod as he tucks your hair behind your ears. You fall asleep wrapped up with him, a mess of limbs underneath the furs as he holds you gently and in the morning and every morning after that Cregan sings your praises, never letting you doubt your place beside him, ever.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

1K notes · View notes

jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months

Text

DRABBLE: THEY’RE YOUR BLIND V-DAY DATE ❤️🍷💕 (CROSSOVER ANIME) (18+) (For Black!Fem!Readers)

Writer’s Note: Got another something for V-Day for y’all. I decided to do one for multiple anime characters cuz I’m a slut for all them 2D characters & couldn’t decide on one specific show lol. Plus it sounded fun! And important disclaimers I’ll just make a note of before the actual Drabble. I hope y’all enjoy! ☺️🥰 -Jazz

********

LEVI ACKERMAN (AOT)

The first night, you’re nervous, to say the least, especially when Hange warns you about his appearance.

“Why?” you had asked over margaritas and tacos, already perplexed and slightly unnerved by her warning. “Is he really ugly or something?”

Hange, sitting across from you in her glasses with her locks of long, chestnut brown hair cascading down her shoulders, shook her head. “No, no, my dear!” she immediately protested. “He’s actually quite handsome despite the broody thing. But he does have some scars from a mission gone wrong at his job and he’s blind in one eye.”

She took a sip of her margarita as if to soften the next blow. “And he’s missing a leg,” she finished.

You were taken aback, to say the least, but you didn’t let that stop you. You aren’t prejudiced and you refused to let that stop you from at least giving Hange’s friend a chance.

Apparently, Levi has been a firefighter for a couple of years and has recently broken up with a longtime girlfriend, so Hange figured he could get back into the dating pool and realize that there are great girls out there starting with you!

So the weekend of Valentine’s Day, Hange texts you the name of the restaurant and you take an Uber there after spending the entire day doing your hair, picking out an outfit, and giving yourself a makeover. You decided on a soft glam look as this is the first time you’re meeting the guy and a pretty, red dress that hugs your frame and zips in the back.

When you get out of the Uber in front of the quaint and low-key yet romantic restaurant, you take a table near the door so it’ll be easier to see Levi walk in and flag him down. You still have no idea what he looks like, only that he’ll be wearing a black trench coat, he’s kinda short, and he has a large scar going over his eye.

“His team calls him Scar, apparently,” Hange laughed. “It helps that he has a smooth, deep voice too!”

You admit that you were curious to see him and hear that “smooth, deep” voice she told you about. So you sit and order a glass of wine, waiting for his arrival as you stare out at the passing cars and people…only he never comes.

You wait and you wait and you wait, but he never shows his face. You call Hange, thinking maybe you have the wrong restaurant or time or day, but all is correct. You think that maybe he’s in traffic or something came up, but Hange never calls to tell you either.

When your appetizer comes and the candle sitting in the middle of the table begins to melt, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. You’ve been stood up.

The realization hits you like a brick to the face. Quickly, you order the check and a box for your food and pay the waiter before running out of the restaurant in tears. You feel stupid. Wasteful. Foolish in your pretty dress and heels.

Hange comes over to see you with the quickness when you tell her that night, ice cream and face masks in tow. “I can’t believe him!” she says, enraged, with a sheet mask on her face. “He told me he’d be there and then he doesn’t show up? Who does he think he is? Why, I’m gonna give that man a piece of my–“

“Don’t Hange,” you sigh, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. “Just leave it be. He probably just changed his mind or wasn’t ready.”

You are ready to move on and forget it, but the universe doesn’t let you. A week later while at work of all places, you get an unknown call. Thinking it’s one of those scammers, you give a sharp “hello”.

“Uh…hi,” a smooth, deep, velvety voice replies. “This is Levi, Hange’s friend. This is Y/N, correct?”

You heart drops into your ass and it takes a moment for you to reply. “Uh, y-yeah,” you answer. “Yeah, this is her. You’re Hange’s friend? Did you get my number from her?”

“I had to,” Levi replies, his voice making your stomach do flips. “I’m sorry if that’s weird, but I just…”

He pauses, sighing. “I had to talk to you,” he finishes, sounding completely beaten. “I’m so sorry for not coming last week. I was so afraid for you to see me because of my appearance. I was so sure you'd find me unattractive and not like what you see. I’m very insecure in that and I let it get the best of me, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that. Hange already went up my ass about it.”

You softly giggle, knowing she would. "So, if you don’t despise me too much and you’re willing, can we meet up for dinner this Friday night if you’re free?”

He sounds hopeful and slightly afraid. You don’t know why you say yes, but you do and you make plans to meet for ramen on Friday. When the day comes, you wear a more casual outfit–-a pretty cashmere sweater, jeans, and some boots––but still style your hair and makeup to look presentable. ‘Second time’s a charm, I guess,’ you think.

It’s a dry, cool night so you wait outside the restaurant for Levi to arrive, texting him that you’re there prior to your arrival. Ten minutes into waiting, you think he isn’t going to show and that he duped you again, but then your phone rings. Your heart leaps at the sight of his caller ID and you answer. “Hello?” you answer, noticing how breathless you sound.

“Look up,” Levi says and you do, seeing him standing before you across the street under a streetlight.

The soft light illuminates his features: a sharp jawline and cheekbones, soft, pale skin, one eye the color of a gray ocean, and the other milky where a long scar runs from his eyebrow to his cheek. He walks towards you slowly with a slight gate in his step, his hand on his left leg where his prosthetic is, and finally makes it over to you. He is extremely attractive and smells like toasted vanilla.

“You’re Y/N, I take it?” he asks, a small smile on his face.

“And you’re Levi,” you reply, your heart battering against your ribcage.

He gives a slight nod, his one eye roaming over your frame. “My God, you’re stunning,” he chuckles as if he can hardly believe it. “Even more than that the first night. I had come, but I never went into the restaurant. I was so intimidated by the way you looked that I just–“

“Stop,” you interrupt, not liking the thought of him standing outside looking into the restaurant window at you, feeling so horrible about his looks.

“That was then and this is now. And you’re wrong, by the way.”

One of Levi’s eyebrows raises in confusion. “I do like what I see,” you say, your voice soft and shy. “For the record, you’re one of the sexiest guys I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

The laugh Levi lets out just about fills you with joy and you just about melt before he holds the door for you to enter the restaurant, not so discreetly staring at your ass as he does.

NANAMI KENTO (JJK)

He’s a professor and he’s a blonde is what you’re told by Gojo…but that’s about all he tells you, the asshole.

“You’re asking me to go on a date with a dude I don’t even know and you won’t even tell me what he looks like?”

You’re sitting with him at brunch with bottomless mimosas when he runs it by you. You get the feeling he just invited you out with the promise of mimosas, good omelettes, and paying just to toss this at you.

Gojo gives you his big, gigawatt smile as he sits across from you wearing his usual shades. “Trust me, babe! He’s a good and attractive guy! If I wasn’t taken, I’d fuck him myself.” He snorts to himself, shoveling some eggs into his mouth. “But I don’t even think I’m his type.”

From what you gathered at the start of brunch, Kento Nanami is Gojo’s very stoic, very introverted, very lonely friend who is in need of a date this upcoming Valentine’s Day. Though intelligent and handsome, Nanami isn’t too good with women and hasn’t been in a romantic relationship is quite some time.

“I swear, he’s not an incel,” Gojo swears, one hand on his heart and the other held high. “He loves women! He’s just…awkward.”

You aren’t sure if you like that answer. “What if I meet him and I don’t like him?” you ask, taking a break from your mimosa. “I mean, I’m only agreeing to this because you said you’d pay me.”

And Gojo did. He figures you’re the perfect girl––smart, pretty, and funny––to bring Nanami out of his shell. “$50,” he sing-songs. “And if you hate his guts, you'll get another $50, I promise. But give him a chance, Y/N! He needs it!”

To not hear him whine and beg, you roll your eyes and agree. Gojo arranges for you to meet with Nanami at a winter light show in the park that is done every year. It’s the perfect place to meet since it’s romantic and very populated.

You dress in your warmest and cutest coat before hurrying to meet Nanami, your boots crunching in the snow. The park is decorated in twinkling lights that line the trees, walkways, and fountains.

You’re so enchanted by the lights that you barely see the slick of ice lining the sidewalk. You misstep and your left foot goes skidding. “Oh, shit!” you gasp as you fall, but you don't feel the ground or the cold snow.

You don’t feel anything at all except two warm, strong arms wrapped around you. You look up into the warm eyes of an older man. An older, extremely attractive man with a blonde undercut and wearing a tan wool coat. “Are you alright, miss?” he worriedly asks. His voice is deep yet warm and sweet like honey.

You’re so taken by the stranger that you barely notice that he has set you upright. “Um…yeah,” you answer albeit softly.

You blink at him, noticing how tall and well-built he is behind his coat. His hands are strong and capable and you find yourself staring at them even when he shoves them into his pocket. “Nanami?” you hesitantly question.

You watch his darker blonde brows furrow in confusion then rise in realization. “You’re Y/N,” he realizes. “Forgive me. Gojo didn’t tell me what you’d look up or what you’d be wearing.”

You think you see his eyes trailing over you, but you can’t focus on it for too long. “That’s okay,” you laugh. “That’s Gojo, for you. How do you know him?”

Nanami begins to walk with you to the line at the entrance gate to enter the event, keeping the same slow pace as you. “We went to the same high school and remained friends ever since. How did you meet him?”

“We met through a mutual friend and just clicked,” you explain. “Her name is Shoko.” Recognition crosses Nanami’s face at the name. “Shoko?” he asks, a light flickering in his eyes. “I know her as well. We all went to the same school.”

“What a coincidence!” you giggle, glad to have something to break the ice (other than your fall). “Thank you again for helping me. I know I’m dumb for wearing these things in the snow.” You nod down at your heeled boots to which Nanami only stares at, never smiling. His expression is unreadable and slightly intimidating. But you can tell it’s just awkwardness. Now you see what Gojo meant.

But rather than be unnerved by it, you find yourself wanting to break through it. You want to get to the warm core of this man. “Um…should we walk?” you ask, nodding at the entrance gate. Nanami nods but looks slightly worried.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, still staring at your feet. “You may want to hold onto me.” He offers you his arm, a slight tinge of pink to his cheeks that one could pass off for the cold. Your heart leaps at the chance to touch him, even be near him.

“What a gentleman,” you chuckle. “I didn't think chivalry still existed.” You take his coat sleeve and let him lead you through the entrance into the park’s first trail.

A chuckle that makes your stomach flip and your pussy leap leaves Nanami’s mouth. “I wouldn’t say all of that but thank you. I would just think I’m being a good human being. So Gojo told me about your job. What is that like?”

The park is truly beautiful, decorated head to toe with lights that twinkle and dance. But you’re not focusing on the lights; just Nanami and his conversation. For such a stoic guy, he can really hold a conversation.

He tells you all about his job as a professor and his students; what subjects he likes; his life outside of work. He asks you about you and all of your habits, hobbies, and joys. He listens intently, putting them all in his brain’s filing cabinet. You find similarities about each other, including favorite books, movies, and your love for the beach.

The date lasts for an hour and you enjoy every minute of it. You like being around Nanami, enjoying his stale humor and shy smile. More than anything, you like his presence.

You like how soft his wool coat feels under your finger. You like how he keeps his arm at reach, even when you release him at times. You like how he keeps the same pace as you, never walking too fast and always staying at your side, his black leather shoes tapping against the concrete.

You’re feeling him and you want to let him know that when you finally reach the end of the park where the last attraction, an ice sculptor decorated in lights, stands.

“Wow,” you sigh. “So pretty.”

Nanami stands next to you as you stare up in awe at the attraction. “Yes,” he agrees, though he isn’t looking at the lights. His attention is solely on you.

He likes the way the lights illuminate your skin which contrasts with his. He likes the brown of your eyes, so warm and tempting like chocolate. He likes your humor and sweet laugh. He likes you and he isn’t too shy to show it. You can see it when you turn and find him already staring at you, bold and heated.

He is sexy. He is alluring. And you want him. “Nanami?” you shyly ask.

His eyebrows raise, acknowledging your question. You turn to him fully and stare up at him through your lashes. “I don’t usually do this, but…would you want to come home with me?”

He is silent, staring at you wordlessly, and your stomach flips with discomfort. “For coffee, maybe?” you add.

Nanami doesn’t have to be asked again.

To end such a perfect date, you find yourself on your back with Nanami on top of you, looking so handsome above you as he pounds your pussy into the mattress. His big hands pin your thighs apart and up to his broad shoulders, your painted toes and skin contrasting deliciously with his lighter skin.

“So pretty,” he groans. “You were the prettiest thing there tonight. Fuck, darling, you’re so tight!”

He thrusts into you harder, faster, making the bed squeak and you lose your voice from how loud you moan. You can feel yourself about to cum after so much foreplay and stimulation (Nanami is a gentle lover).

“Kento,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “I’m gonna cum! Please…please cum with me!”

And he does. At the sound of you begging, he bursts inside of you with a ragged groan as you cum all over his big cock, your pussy walls squeezing around him and stroking his shaft.

As you do, his lips find yours, giving you a passionate kiss that could melt the ice with how hot it is.

NICO ROBIN (One Piece)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized!

Nami swore up and down that you needed to go on a date for Valentine’s Day to forget about your short-term “situationship”.

“Just give a chance, Y/N,” she said to you over ramen. She treated you to lunch at the best ramen place in town while you were on your work break. “It’s just for one night and I can’t stand the thought of my best friend alone on Valentine’s Day! And she’s a great girl, seriously!”

You looked down at your bowl of ramen, feeling hot under your sweater dress that clung to your plump body. The idea of a blind date didn’t appeal to you much, especially being such a big girl. Usually, when people got a look at you, they either ghosted you after the first date or didn’t give you the time of day. Why did she think this was a good idea?

“Just be careful,” Zoro said, shoveling spicy miso ramen into his mouth. “She’ll charm the pants off of you…or skirt…whatever you’ll be wearing.” Nami smacked him on the the arm hard, making the green-haired hunk hiss in pain. “Don’t listen to him, honey. Robin is just a sweet-talker. You have nothing to worry about!”

But when you finally get a look at your date, you don’t think that’s true. Nami set the date up at a high-scale bar where the working class and hotshot businessmen come for happy hour.

When you walk in, you immediately feel self-conscious despite looking oh-so yummy in your waistband coat that flares around your waist and pink dress that makes your skin and brown eyes pop. But the dress also sticks to your body, accentuating each curve, ripple, and roll. Though your stomach ripples with nerves, you also feel slightly confident catching eyes under the warm lights above.

You sit at the sleek bar and order yourself a cocktail to loosen up a bit more while you search for your date at the door. Nami only told you that she’s “tall with long black hair and might be wearing purple”.

You’re curious as to what this girl is like and if she likes what she sees. You sip on your cocktail and scroll through your phone for a couple of minutes, completely unaware of the eyes you have captured from down at the bar.

When you turn around in your stool to place your glass down, you find another cocktail sitting behind you. Confused, you flag down the bartender. “I didn’t order this,” you tell him, pushing the glass towards him. “It was sent to you,” he explains. “From down at the bar.” You look in that direction, but find no one paying any attention to you. “But I have a date,” you protest. “I can't accept this.”

“That’s correct,” a sweet yet smooth and sultry voice purrs behind you, “and it’s usually rude to deny a drink from her.” The voice causes your body to react instantly: the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end; your heart pounds in your chest; your stomach flips. You turn and see your blind date standing behind you in the flesh.

Beautiful isn’t a word to use for Robin. She is absolutely stunning. A straight vixen oozing confidence and poise as she stands behind you in a purple cocktail dress that illuminates her soft, pale skin and blue eyes that steal the air from your lungs.

She is tall and slender with piano fingers painted in a dark rouge that you want to feel wrapped around your body, but has a rack that can stop traffic and is definitely catching eyes. Her long, shiny, black locks of hair cascade down her slender shoulders, catching the light above. You are in awe of her and her beauty as are the others in the bar.

“Y/N?” she asks in her alluring voice. Wordlessly, you nod and close your mouth to avoid looking like an idiot. “I’m Nico Robin, Nami’s friend. She’s told me so much about you.” She puts a slender hand out to shake yours, giving you a whiff of her luxurious-smelling perfume and a peek of golden Tiffany bracelet.

You put your hand in hers, feeling warm from her touch. “N-Nice to meet you,” you stutter. “Please, have a seat. Do you want a drink?” Robin raises her brows questionably as she settles onto a stool next to you. You flush under the lights, thanking God that he made you Black. “It’s only right since you ordered me one.”

Robin smiles, her pearly whites and dimples making you damn near melt. “How sweet of you,” she giggles. She orders herself a dirty Martini with extra olives and thanks you again when it comes. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I got caught up in some work.” She slowly crosses her soft, long, milky legs over one another. You do your best not to stare.

You give her a smile, pretending that you’re not turned the fuck on by her, and lean your elbow against your chin. “So you’re an archaeologist, right? That’s such an interesting job.”

She smiles at the compliment and at the mention of her career as you sip your cocktail. “Well, I’ve always been attracted to history since I was young. I’m attracted to intelligence too, which you seem to have a lot of.” Her smile turns flirty and now you know what Zoro was talking about. You’re already charmed by her. “Tell me: what’s your job like?” she asks.

Your conversations last for hours and flow perfectly, especially after you get your second drink in you. You tell her about your job and quietly gush over her curiosity and awe, realizing how much she loves learning. You talk about everything, from city life to books to anime, learning that you both love magical girl anime, especially Sailor Moon.

You didn't expect that from Robin because of how poised she is and her love for dark colors, but as soon as you mention Sailor Moon, her eyes widen in excitement. “I love Sailor Moon!” She laughs. “I cosplayed as Sailor Mars two Halloweens ago. I bet you’d look so pretty as a Sailor Scout, especially with the skirt.”

That’s another thing you learn about Robin: she’s a flirt. She sneaks in little sly compliments to obviously make you flustered…and it’s working. You try to do the same, complimenting her on her outfit and her smile. “I can see why everyone is so fond of you in here,” you say, nodding at the group of businessmen playing pool who are not so discreetly staring at you both from across the room.

Robin giggles, turning back to you with a hooded gaze. “Too bad,” she sighs, not at all sounding disappointed. “I’m here with you.”

As the night goes on, it gets looser as you both become more comfortable with each other. You talk about everything and anything, telling each other funny stories and showing pictures of your pets. “You’re a dog mom too?” you coo, gushing over her wallpaper of her and a fluffy, brown animal dressed as Santa Claus though he has pointed ears and horns.

“Reindeer mom,” she corrects you and titters at your confusion. “It’s a long story, but that’s my perfect little boy. His name is Chopper.”

Other than Robin being a sweet-talker as Nami said, you also find out many other things about this alluring, attractive woman. Like how much she loves plays and Disney movies, becoming so excited when you ask her about her favorite films. “I love musicals,” she shyly says, an endearing blush on her face. “Can you tell I’m a secret theatre kid?”

Or how she tends to ramble about information she’s obtained from books and documentaries about tribes long gone and age-old urban legends. You could listen to her talk for hours. Unbeknownst to you, she feels the same about you whenever you speak about yourself and your interests.

As the alcohol takes its affect on you both, she also tells you that she’s a devil fruit user, a term you’ve heard before since many in the world are, including your mutual friend Luffy. When you ask her about her ability, she just winks behind her third martini glass. “A woman never draws all of her cards…not all at once, anyway.”

As the night draws on, so do the drinks and soon, you’re feeling loose and bold. You decide to show her your hidden talent which is rolling your eyes to the right and the left. “I can wiggle my ears too,” you say, showing her much to her amusement. She applauds you, giggling at your talent. “My, you’re full of surprises,” she giggles. “And so am I.”

You suddenly feel something tickling your sides and look down to see two disembodied hands tickling you. Robin’s hands. You look at her in shock as she retracts her extra arms, using them to grab her third martini and take a sip. “The perks of being a devil fruit user,” she chuckles. At the sight of your expression, she grows concerned. “Do they frighten you?”

“No,” you answer honestly. “They’re…” You stare at her extra hands, wondering how many more she has and how they would feel on your body. “Pretty,” you decide to answer with. That is enough for Robin to decide what she wants from you tonight.

So when you’re both still sitting there when the bar is emptying out, she makes it known. “Oh, dear,” she sighs, exhaling in disappointment as the bartenders clean and the drunk crowd empties out. “It appears that our date has become to an end.” She turns to you, placing a warm hand on yours. “I really enjoyed meeting you, Y/N,” she says, a smile on her face that makes you ache.

You don’t want tonight to end. You don’t want her to go. You need more of her touch. She seems to understand and see the mutual disappointment in your eyes because she doesn’t release your hand.

“Unless you want this night to continue,” she adds, her voice like honey in your ears. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very attracted to you too, unless I’m mistaking the chemistry.”

You can’t speak, so you shake your head and her eyes twinkle. She leans in toward you, engulfing you in her scent. “Just say the words and I’ll go with you,” she whispers into your ear.

Desire overwhelms you and you squeeze her hand, interlacing your fingers. “I’ll call a Lyft,” you exhale. Robin smiles, keeping her hand in yours.

She doesn’t let go even hours later when your fingers are interlaced with each other while your legs are pinned open by her extra hands on the bed. Your moans and whimpers fill the darkness of your bedroom as she moves her tongue against your clit, moaning eagerly and sloppily into your pussy as she eats you like there is no tomorrow.

“Now I can really show you how good I am with my hands,” she giggles, looking up at you between your thighs. “You’re so cute like this, pretty girl.”

You can feel that knot in your core tightening the more she moves her jaw, going faster and faster until you have no choice. “Robin,” you whine. “I'm gonna…gonna…!” Your back arches and your legs shake around Robin’s face.

Her hold on you tightens, her hands gripping your thighs.“Cum for me, gorgeous,” she hums. “I’ve got you. Cum all over my face like a good girl.”

One thing is for sure while you gush around Robin’s face, loving how she eagerly laps up everything you give her: another date is definitely in the future for you and her.

PRO!KATSUKI BAKUGOU & KIRISHIMA EJIROU (BHNA)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized & a bimbo!

*Disclaimer: Bakugou & Kiri are both aged-up (over the age of 18) in this drabble!

You don’t know why you agreed to do this blind date thing, but your friend put you up to it after she reminded you of your NY resolution to try new things to help yourself.

“You need to put yourself out there more, girl!” she argued over the phone with you. “Do you see how hot you are?! You deserve to have someone on your arm!” You pouted as you painted your toe nails a pretty bubblegum pink, your feet hanging over you bathtub smelling like vanilla bubblebath.

Though she is right about you deserving a nice guy to tell you how pretty you are, most of the guys you dated either used you as arm candy, hit in then quit it, or just stopped talking to you because of your, uh…bimbo-ness. You know you have no filter and sometimes you do come off as dumb, but you’re trying your best! And you’re kind and the sweetest person anyone will ever meet! Isn’t that enough?

“Yeah, but a blind date though?” you complained into the phone sitting on your sink. “How am I gonna go on a date if I can’t see, girl?” You gasped, even more mortified. “Or will my date be blind?! How will be able to see me and my cute outfit?!”

Your friend just laughed. She knows you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re just too cute and sweet. “Honey, no! A blind date is when you meet someone you’ve never seen or met before. Someone else sets the date up for you.”

Your heart resumed its normal pattern and you relaxed into the water. “Ohhh,” you realized with a giggle. “Well, if you’re setting it up, can you tell me anything about him?”

Your friend refused, much to your dismay. “Nope, but you’ll meet him later this week. Saturday night at 7 PM, don’t be late. I’ll give you all the details before then.” You hung up, a bit nervous but excited, already picturing your outfit for the day.

The Saturday of Valentine’s Day weekend, you go to the cafe your friend tells you to go to which is only a few blocks from your apartment. You dress in a pink sweater that does nothing to hide your voluptuous bosom and a pretty, cherry red skit that hugs your tummy and voluptuous ass, the damn thing so short that the ruffles stop mid-thigh, a sliver of your asscheeks seen whenever you bend over. You pair your V-Day outfit with some warm stockings and high black boots before putting on your favorite fluffy, pink coat.

An hour later after putting on some vanilla-scented body spray and giving your lips a slick of your favorite Fenty Gloss in a sparkly pink, you stand in line to order your food, hoping that will ease your nerves over today. Because your friend loves you so much, she set you up for two dates today: one at the cafe and the other later tonight at your favorite bar.

Your first date is a redheaded hunk, according to your friend. “He’s got red hair and he’s a fucking giant,” she giggles. “And he’s SUPER fine. You’ll know him when see him.” You melted at the details. “I do like big guys,” you sigh dreamily. Your second date is just as fine, but a hothead. “My friend works with him at his agency and apparently, he’s got a mouth.” Your friend rolled her eyes. "The dude is like a pit bull, but he's so fucking sexy.”

“I’m a little nervous though,” you mumbled, starting to feel insecure. “You think he’ll like me?” Your friend looked at you like you were insane, making you laugh. “Who wouldn’t? You’re adorable!”

And you feel adorable when you go next to the counter and the cashier’s eyes shoots straight to your tits. You don’t notice, too busy feening for some sweet, sugar coffee. “Hi, can I please get a peppermint mocha latte with two pumps of caramel, please?” You are so damn cute that the guy blushes and quickly rings you up. You pay and thank him when you get your drink before walking off, but stop when something captures you.

There, hidden behind a glass container behind the counter, are a bunch of seasonal-flavored doughnuts lined up in a row. Your eyes immediately go for the one coated in pink frosting, powdered sugar, and red and pink sprinkles. “Oooh,” you coo to yourself. “So pretty.”

“Agreed,” says a raspy, sexy voice from behind you. You turn a little too quickly and a bit of coffee sloshes over the top of your drink and onto the crotch of the guy standing behind you. “Oops, I’m so sorry!” you gasp. “I didn’t even see you! Oh, it’s gonna stain! Here, quick!” You quickly reach for a wad of napkins and begin to dab at the man’s crotch, not even realizing how it looks.

Still not even bothering to look up, the blonde furiously blushes while the redhead behind him stifles a laugh. “That’s quite okay,” he chuckles. “At least now he smells like peppermint down there.” The blonde growls like he wants to commit murder. “Plus, Katsuki was standing way too close to you in line, weren’t you, ‘Suki?”

You hand the napkins over to the blonde, hyper-focused on the nickname. “‘Suki,” you giggle. “That’s such a cute…” Your words die in you when you finally, finally, look up into the eyes of the two finest, sexiest men you’ve ever seen in your life.

One of them has long, red hair cascading down his broad shoulders, fanged teeth that flash at you as he smiles, friendly, crimson eyes, and piercings––dangling from his ears, embedded in his eyebrow, and snakebites in his bottom lip.

The other sports a platinum blonde undercut and a scowl that slightly softens at the sight of you. He, too, has crimson eyes that widen at your pretty face and outfit and one piercing in his plump bottom lip. The only things similar about the duo are how tall, buff, and sexy they both are. “Name,” you weakly finish. “I-I’m Y/N.”

The redhead grins, putting his big ass hand out for a shake. “Ejirou,” he says, “but my friends call me Kiri.” You do so, noticing how calloused his palm is and how much his sweater stretches against his pecs. The blonde has the same issue, his V-neck shirt way too tight for his toned body. “Bakugou,” he grumbles, giving you an intense stare that makes you melt on the inside.

Those gears in your head start turning and you gape at the duo. “Wait…I know you two!” you gasp. “You guys are those superheroes, right? Dynamight and Red Riot!” Kiri tosses his head back and laughs while Bakugou glares daggers at you. “Damn, could you be any louder?” he growls. You cover your mouth, flushing with embossment. “Sorry!” you whisper. "I’m just a big fan of you two! I almost didn’t recognize you in normal clothes. I have your posters and all of your merch!”

Kiri gives Bakugou a look that he would seeing a cat do something cute. And that is what you are: a cute little kitty. Something adorable and sweet yet you have a sexiness to you that both men are coming to find. “Well, it's always a pleasure to meet a fan. Especially such a cute one.” He grins at the way you giggle bashfully. “I’m guessing you’re a fan of sweets? Me too. I was actually planning on getting one of those for my boyfriend, my date, and I.”

You notice Kiri gaze at Bakugou when he says “my boyfriend” and you quietly gush to yourself. “Oh, you two are dating?” you coo, much to Bakugou’s dismay. He’s so cute when he blushes! “That’s so sweet! Here, I’ll treat you guys to ‘em to make up for that nasty spill.”

Kiri is just about ready to scoop you up and take you home with them when you dig into your bag for your Hello Kitty wallet. “Well, isn’t that sweet? You up for somethin’ sweet, Katsuki?”

Though Bakugou feels the same way, he still wants to feel you out and see if this “bimbo-esque” personality you’ve got going on is a fake. “It’s whatever,” he grumbles. “But you’d better get me the chocolate one. I don’t want the one with all of those sprinkles and shit on it.” You vigorously nod, taking out some cash. “You got it!” you giggle and hand them the cash. After getting back in line, Kiri orders one chocolate and two strawberry donuts and his and Bakugou’s drinks.

You thank the cashier when she hands you each pastry individually wrapped in a paper bag, nice, warm, and toasty from the oven. You turn to the pros and hand them the treats. “Here you guys go,” you sweetly say. Bakugou grumbles as he takes his while Kiri gives you a big gigawatt grin. “Thanks, cutie,” he chuckles. You expect them to start eating them, but you’re shocked when Bakugou hands one of the strawberry ones to you.

You freeze, confused. “But…this is for your date,” you say, completely clueless. “Aren’t you gonna give it to them?” Bakugou pinches the bridge of his nose like a dad with a dumbass child. “Oh, my God,” he groans. Kiri thinks it’s endearingly hilarious, holding his stomach as he laughs. “You are our date, silly girl!” he giggles. “Well, mine, technically. Your friend set us up to have dates with you at different times today, but we both just came together since we’re dating. I hope that’s cool.”

You gape at them, wondering if they’re serious. Two of the hottest pros on a date with you? At the same time?! You just about squeal with excitement. “Sure!” you giggle, your heart leaping for joy. “The more, the better! Let’s go sit down so we can get to know each other more.”

The two are happy to oblige. Kiri picks out a table in the back that is more secluded and near the window for the sights. Before you sit, you turn to Katsuki with an apologetic pout. “I’m sorry again about the spill, Bakugou.”

The blonde cuts his eyes at you and you can't tell what he’s thinking due to how permanent his scowl is. But that changes when he pulls your chair out for you. “Katsuki,” he replies. “And stop mentionin’ it. Besides, I know some other way you can make up for it later…maybe with your number.” He gives you a lopsided smirk that makes you tingle between your thighs.

“Chill,” Kiri cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Sorry about him. We don’t usually flirt too hard on the first date…but you’re just too cute to resist.” He boldly looks you up and down, tugging lightly on his bottom lip. You wonder what else he can do with his mouth as the cafe’s atmosphere becomes more tense between the three of you. “Well, I could say the same about you two,” you purr, a shy giggle leaving your lips.

That’s what the duo want to hear. Bakugou’s smirk widens, a twinkle in his vermillion eyes. “Glad the feelin’ is mutual, mama,” he whispers. “So you sittin’ or what? My fuckin’ coffee’s gettin’ cold.” You do so and you never want the date to end…unless it’s to spend more time with them in private.

NICHOLAS "NICO" BROWN (GANGSTA!)

You stand outside of a jazz club one chilly night, watching the passersby and wondering which one may be your blind date.

Worick told you all about his friend, Nico, but you’ve never met him before. You only know that the two work together and have known each other since childhood. You’ve only known Worick for two years after he helped you out of a messy financial situation with your asshole ex-boyfriend who, according to Worick, nearly shat himself when Worick threatened to bring Nico in to handle things.

Apparently, Nico is well-known throughout the town for being an extremely threatening and intimidating figure.

Why in the fuck would Worick want to set you up with someone like that? “He’s a cool dude, really!” he assured you over coffee. “Just…quiet. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s deaf. He’s just a quiet guy; a little awkward; introverted…”

‘Not to mention threatening and intimidating,’ you thought to yourself. “And you thought I was just perfect for this guy?” you scoffed. “What will we even talk about? How can I talk to him if he’s so quiet?”

“If you ask him something, he’ll answer you,” the handsome blonde replied. “And don’t worry too much about signing. He can read lips, but just make sure you slow down with your words.” Though Worick knows you know sign language due to your father being deaf since you were an infant. He can tell you’re still hesitant to say yes and folds his hands into a prayer.

“C’mon, sweetie,” he begs. “The guy has NEVER been on a Valentine’s Day date before and his last girlfriend was a fucking bitch who dumped him because he was deaf. All she wanted was his massive dick…sorry.”

He apologized when he saw your reaction. You didn’t need to know that his childhood friend has a big dick! ….Though you are curious to know just how big. “He needs someone kind, considerate, and sweet. You fit the bill! Just give him a chance, please?”

Before you agreed, Worick told you all about Nico’s ex, happy to do so when you asked. Apparently, she was the daughter of a rich family that he and Worick were in charge of guarding for a couple of months. She and Nico grew closer, had a sexual relationship, and Nico caught feelings while she didn’t, claiming it was because she didn’t want to date someone deaf due to it being “too much work”. You felt bad for Nico, especially when hearing how much it hurt him.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you sighed at Worick’s pleading stare. He clapped his big, calloused hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Love you too, sweetie,” he chuckled. “I’ll fill you in on the details later this week.”

He instructed you to meet Nico at an underground jazz club that Nico particularly likes for its seclusion and because no one bothers him too much in there. You dressed in a simple cocktail dress, flats and a cardigan to keep warm in the chill. Combined with your styled hair and soft makeup, you think you look pretty. You hope this “Nico" person thinks so too. When you look down the street among the other stores and taverns, you see a man walking up the road and you immediately know that your date has arrived.

He is big. Huge! The man is nothing but bulky muscle hidden beneath his black tee, baggy jeans, and leather jacket standing at six-foot-something. He towers over you as he gets closer, so much so that you have to look up at him to actually look at his face. You can see why he's so intimidating.

Other than his height and build, Nico carries himself with a roughness and a confidence that is unshakeable and undeniable. It’s scary…yet also thrilling. Kinda sexy too.

Under the soft glow of the street lamps, you get a good look at his features: he has a soft tan to his skin, thick, soft-looking lips, and eyes a deep, dark chocolate that you can get lost in forever. Silver dog tags hang from his thick neck that has your blood going hot and slight scars and bruises that you can see on his knuckles. You wonder, briefly, how he got them. He’s very, very handsome.

Realizing he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you clear your throat. “Uh….hi!” you greet, giving him a wave. He nods, barely cracking a smile. “You’re Nico?” you sign with your hands and verbally ask. “I’m Y/N, Worick’s friend.”

Nico shakes your hand and you notice how big, warm, and calloused his palm is. It makes your pussy tingle embarrassingly so. “The teacher, right?” he signs with those thick fingers. “He told me you teach little kids.” You nod, smiling proudly at your occupation. “Yes, pre-K,” you giggle. “They’re adorable, but a handful.”

There is an awkwardness between you, mostly because Nico is such a silent guy. He also keeps that stoic scowl on his face, so you don’t really know what he’s thinking. “So what do you do?” you curiously ask. “Worick never filled me in on that. He just said you do ‘business’ together as Handymen.” At this, Nico cracks a crooked smirk. “Something like that,” he signs. That intrigues you a bit.

“Do you wanna go inside?” you ask, nodding at the door. “We’ll freeze before we get a chance to get to know each other more.” You give a small laugh to which he only nods, making you feel like a fish out of water. He opens the door for you, surprising you, and nods you into the warm club.

“Thank you,” you whisper, catching his intoxicating scent of cologne and lavender soap as you walk in. A bit of cigarette smoke clings to his clothes too, but it doesn't bother you much. The club is small yet cozy and dimly lit for a more intimate feel. Many people are at the bar or on the dance floor near the small stage where a band plays, the sounds of piano and cello mingling in the air.

After getting your drinks from the bar (you get a cocktail while Nico picks a beer), you pick a table near the window and Nico pulls out a chair for you. You flush bashfully at his actions, not taking him for such a sweet guy. “Such a gentleman,” you laugh as he pushes you in and takes a seat across from you. “Worick didn’t tell me that. He said you’re very quiet though.” He shrugs his broad shoulders in his jacket. “Just don’t got much to say,” he signs.

You nod as you shed your coat, revealing your naked shoulders and dress to him. You try not to be intimidated by his unwavering gaze. “That’s okay,” you sign and say. “We can talk about whatever you want.” The corners of his mouth quirk upward. “You sign really well,” he praises you. You smile proudly and bashfully, glad to have impressed him. “My dad is deaf and taught me how to sign since I was young.”

His smirk turns more dry and almost forced as he signs to you: “So me being deaf doesn’t turn you off?” he jokes.

You immediately remember his ex and feel your stomach fall. “Not at all,” you sweetly answer. “Though I don’t like beer drinkers.” You wrinkle your nose at Nico’s drink. He raises an eyebrow, confused at your distaste. “It makes kisses taste like beer.” You lean forward a bit, giving him a secretive, flirtatious smile. “I like my kisses sweet.”

Your eyes tick down to his lips and he notices. But he barely reacts. If anything, he looks disinterested and your heart sinks. “Was that too much?” you ask worriedly. Did you go too far? Are you misreading this?

Before you can babble an apology, he stops you. “You asked what I do for work with Worick,” he signs. You nod, your heart thumping madly in your chest. He takes a deep breath before signing again. “We do almost everything, but I do dirty work,” he tells you. “I used to be a mercenary, but…I’ve still got human blood on my hands.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. That explains the marks on his fists. ”Does that bother you?” he asks, apprehension in his brown eyes. Before you can respond, someone knocks into the table, nearly toppling it over.

You squeak, grabbing your drink before it can topple over while Nico straightens the table. “Oh, my God, are you alright?” you gasp, immediately helping the guy onto his feet. He turns to you, all crooked teeth and bloodshot eyes. “Now I am,” he drunkenly chortles at the sight of you. “Damn, darlin’, you’ve got a body on you! You wanna dance?” You immediately step back, warning bells going off in your head. “U-Uh, no, sorry. I’m here with–“

The man turns to Nico who has been staring daggers at the drunk the whole time. “Him?” he cackles. “That fuckin’ cockhead? You can get someone better than that, darlin’. Someone who can take care of this bo–“

The drunk cuts himself off with a whine of pain as Nico grips his hand so hard that he cracks the drunk’s knuckle bones. Unbeknownst to you, the drunk tried to touch your behind and Nico wasn’t having that. Doesn’t he know who he’s fucking with? You gape at your date as he steps between you and the drunk, a hulking mountain, and gets deep in the drunk’s grill.

And then he opens his mouth: “Back up,” he warns, his voice deeper and raspier than you pictured it though loud due to his hearing. “Unless you want your head in this table, I suggest you leave her alone. She’s with me.”

He then releases the drunk who scampers away, clutching his hand to his chest. Nico composes himself and turns to you, an apologetic look in his eyes. “Sorry,” he signs. You don’t say anything and he is so sure that he fucked this up. Now you see who he is. Now you see that he’s just a Twilight. A mercenary. A no good–

“Nico?” you softly ask. His hurtful thoughts take the back burner when you step to him, looking up at him with those precious, brown eyes. “Do you want to dance?” you ask, signing the words to him.

He blinks at you, so sure that you're scared of him. When in reality, you're just trying to push the nasty thoughts of him kissing you silly and fucking you up against the table with that big, sexy body and massive dick out of your mind.

Him defending you but still being a complete, gentle giant to you is getting you going completely, but it’s still the first date. You want him to open up and maybe a slow dance can do that for you. “Not much of a dancer,” he signs, looking sheepish.

You smile and offer your hands to which he takes. “I’ll show you how,” you giggle, pulling him along onto the dance floor filled with slow-dancing pairs. A soft, slow tune with a seductive saxophone and piano plays as you stand eye to eye. You place one hand on his shoulder as you interact your fingers with his with the other. Slowly, you begin to sway to the music, beginning to melt within the music and each other.

And when lean your head onto his shoulder, finally feeling at peace, Nico comes to feel that this is where you belong: with him, in his arms.

KEISUKE BAJI (TOKYO REVENGERS)

*Disclaimer: Baji is aged up (over the age of 18) in this drabble!

“You’re the worst blind date I’ve ever had,” you very boldly and irritatingly tell the annoyingly sexy man sitting across from you.

The attractive man with the long, wavy black hair, sharp eyes the color of milk chocolate, and a sharp, canine smile looks across from you at the table littered with remnants of your Italian dinner. Baji is his name apparently, a close friend of Mikey’s and one of his gang members. You never understood that gang shit, but they never give you problems.

If anything, Mikey’s gang ‘Toman’, protects you and makes sure you go about your days without any bother. “I’m guessin’ you’ve been on many blind dates before me?” Baji suggests as he chews on his pasta. “Huh. That’s a shocker.”

You sharply squint at him, catching onto that shade. “Why is that so shocking?” you ask, digging your nails into the table with how irked you are. You can’t believe Mikey set you up with him. It’s been 25 minutes into the date and so far, each conversation was an argument and shot after shot.

Your personalities clash horribly, not to mention every woman in the place has their eyes on him. And he knows it! Not to mention that he’s an extremely messy eater (which led your mind to other places), he is way too into himself, and he has no idea how to act in a classy setting like an Italian restaurant.

He’s a wild. He’s argumentative and hot-headed. He’s a rugged, tough-as-nails, roughneck dude…and he’s turning you on.

Baji leans back against his chair, widening his legs in a way that makes you want to scream. Why the fuck does he have to be so goddamn fine but such an asshole? Is God punishing you? “Well, bein’ the fact that you’re the very definition of ‘a stick in the mud’,” he explains, “and a tighter than a drum, I can hardly believe how any guy sat across from you at a table. At least you’re pretty.” He goes back to eating his pasta like he didn’t just insult you.

“Excuse me?” you hiss, feeling your blood boil. Thank God for your dress or else, you’re sure you’d boil over from the anger you feel. “And I can’t imagine how any self-respecting woman can sit with a lowlife, cocky, smart ass narc like you. And unlike me, your looks do nothing to take away any of that.” Baji’s thick, black eyebrows raise at the shot you took. “And you’re snarky,” he chuckles. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a thing for snarky girls.”

He uses his sinful tongue to lick a bit of sauce from his bottom lip. You catch a glint of metal on his tongue as he does and you realize that he has a tongue piercing. ‘Fuck,’ you think, clenching your thighs beneath the table and gripping the hem of your dress. You lean your hand against the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I can’t believe I said yes to this shit,” you sigh into your hand. “Fuck the $50. I’m gonna have to tell Mikey that–“

“Mikey?” Baji cut in, pausing from eating. “Mikey put you up to this?” His brown eyes widen in shock and you feel a spark of joy at shutting him up. “Yes,” you proudly say, venom in your tone, “he did. And you know why? It’s because no other girl wants to date you. You’re unromantic, you’re a slob, you’re always looking for an argument, and you seem to push every single guy’s buttons in here.”

He stares at you for a moment, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and then he begins to laugh so loud that the others in the restaurant look at him. You hide behind your hand, embarrassed. “Oh, shit!” he cackles. “I swear, that motherfucker is desperate to find me somebody.” You nod, pushing your dinner to the side. “Agreed. Why he ever thought I would be a perfect match for you is beyond me.”

Baji looks at you now, an unreadable expression on his face as his smile fades. “Maybe it’s because you’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he replies though his tone is different. You stare at him in disbelief, scowling. Did he really just say that? Deadass?

Baji smirks at your reaction. “You heard me: B-R-A-T. You’re a brat and fortunately for you, baby girl, I’m just the guy to handle a chick like you.” He leans in toward you, folding his ringed knuckles beneath his chin. “Someone who doesn’t shut the fuck up or know her place.”

“Know her place?!” you snap, earning the attention of the restaurant. He barely reacts, though his smile grows and a strange twinkle appear in his eyes. “You know what? Fuck this and fuck you. Why you even have an ex-girlfriend is beyond me if this is how you talk to them.” You stand up in your pretty, body-hugging dress and grab your coat. “I’m leaving,” you huff, snatching the coat on. “Have a good Valentine’s Day, dickhead.”

Without another word or waiting for him to respond or even stop you, you leave the restaurant and step out into the cold February night. You barely get down the street before you hear your name being called. You turn, seeing Baji jogging towards you, those black locks flowing in the wind. “Y/N!” he calls in his deep ass voice. “Hold up, wait!” You don’t know why you stop, but you do, putting a hand on your hip. You glare at him and pout those plump lips when he finally stops in front of you. “You left your dessert.”

He presents a small brown box to you and opens it to reveal a small chocolate fudge cake with chocolate mousse on the inside and Godiva flakes coating the top. “I didn’t order any dessert,” you say in a tight voice. He smirks down at you, standing several heads taller than you. “I know; that’s why I ordered ya one. C’mon, you don’t like chocolate cake?” You look back down at the cake and close it before he hands it to you. “What, is this an apology?” you snort. “Sorry, man, but you’re gonna have to try much harder than–“

“You’re wonderin’ why I have an ex, right?” he interrupts you. You pause, confused, but he just smiles mischievously at you. “I have an ex, and many of them, because I’m an asshole, unfortunately. Force of habit.” He shrugs, but actually looks guilty for it. “But I’ve had many girlfriends because I know how to tame them.”

His smile is flirtier now, creating more of that sexual tension that you felt at dinner. You still stare at him, speechless, and he figures that you’re clueless about what he means. “I put it down,” he explains. "Give good dick. Knock their boots. Am I makin’ any sense here?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the thoughts running in your head of just how good he is in the bedroom. “I know what you mean,” you snap. “So why the fuck are you tellin’ me this?”

Baji smiles at you, his canines glowing at you as if they are illuminated by a light within them. They thrill you and bring a ferocious and needy part out of you that you didn’t know was even there. He takes a step toward you, getting closer, until you can reach up and kiss him if you want to.

“Because I know you’re attracted to me,” he murmurs matter-of-factly. “What, you think I can’t see it? The way you squeezed your thighs tight together at the table. The way you kept starin’ dead at my hands. The way you’d get so lost in thought as if daydreaming about somethin’ else way more exciting.”

You flush embarrassingly, more at your behavior than the fact that Baji noticed it. You can’t help how attracted you are to him. But Baji doesn’t want you to be embarrassed or ashamed. He wants you to want him the same he wants you.

“Lucky for you, mama,” he purrs, the pet name making your pussy jump, especially with his voice, "I’m just as whipped for you, especially in that dress.” His fingers lightly glide down your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “I’m sorry about tonight, but I can show how sorry I am in other ways if you want me to.”

You can tell he genuinely means it and isn’t just trying to get in your pants, but even so, you still scowl up at him, your jaw set and eyes narrow. “And why do you think I’ll say yes?” you question. He just chuckles, still flashing you that sharp, sexy smile. “Because you know I’m the only one who can handle that bratty ass of yours.”

He then turns and waves a hand. You don’t know what for until a taxi suddenly glides over to the curb and stops. Baji walks to the backdoor and opens it before looking back at you expectantly, his eyes molten with lust.

“Now get in the fuckin’ car, Y/N.” You know you shouldn’t get in the car and go anywhere with him, but you can’t deny how much he makes your pussy throb. So against your better judgment, you crawl into the backseat of the cab and tell the driver your address.

Hours later after being stripped out of your dress, shown extensive foreplay, and having your pussy eaten like Baji hasn’t had anything to eat in decades, you find yourself being fucked against the wall with your arms and legs wrapped tight around the long-haired, tattooed man who holds you against him as he pummels his thick, hard cock into your tight, wet pussy again and again. The bedroom is filled with the sound of your mixed moans and skin slapping against skin as he pistons his hips into you, making you see stars.

It doesn’t take long for your pussy to start quivering around his cock, squelching and dripping the more he fucks it. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life and you’re able to hold back anymore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Baji!” you practically scream. “Can’t…can’t take it! I’m gonna cum!”

Baji shakes his head, gripping your hair with one hand while he hikes you up onto his waist with the other, showing you how lightweight you are to him. “Uh-uh, bratty girl,” he huffs. “Not yet, mama. I need to feel more of this pretty pussy flutterin’ around me.”

He thrusts harder, faster, drawing whines and sobs out of you. You begin to claw at his back where a large tattoo dedicated to Toman is inked into his back muscles. “You cum when I say, understand?” he growls into your ear.

You weakly nod, willing to do anything he says if that means you can cum. “Now shut the fuck up, and take this dick.” You do so, stopping your protests as he fucks you stupid until you cream all over his cock while he fills you up to the brim…but of course, you only do it when he says so. You find that you love doing what he tells you to.

When everything is said and done, you both crumble to your bedroom floor and Baji pecks your cheek. “Best blind date ever, right?” he chuckles.

BENIMARU SHINON (FIRE FORCE)

*Note: Reader is Goth!

“God, kill me,” you sigh, standing in front of the theater doors. “Why did I agree to do this? He could be a serial killer or something!”

You contemplate leaving, but you already promised your best friend that you’d go through with this stupid blind date on this stupid ass holiday. “Please just try and go along with it for tonight, Y/N!” she practically begged. “I promise he’s a nice guy! And I already told him you agreed! Just give it a chance and I promise you that I’ll never bother you about dating again.”

You groaned, sitting across from her at a bar. “Fuck,” you sighed. “Fine. Can I least pick the movie?” Your friend eagerly nodded, so you purposely picked a romance/horror movie marathon showing that the theatre does every year for Valentine’s Day. The kind with blood n guts, gothic vampires, and slashers. Surprisingly, the guy still agreed to come much to your dismay and you had no choice but to come out.

You know that your friend did this as a way to get you to start dating. You swear she thinks that one of these days that you’ll hang yourself from the shower rod with how lonely you are…and this has zero to do with you being goth. Though you love the color black, but you’re not depressed. You love dark makeup and rock music, but that’s what you love. You’ve always adored gothic fashion and the aesthetic, so that’s what you live.

However, some people think it’s weird. Though Tokyo is full of eccentric and different type of fashion, goth isn’t particularly “popular” in your Black family or side of the city. And it certainly isn’t popular with the guys. You don’t care. You love yourself and you’re not about to change for anyone. So you dress in your finest black attire with a mini leather skirt, thigh-high stockings, and boots that make you feel powerful and sexy. Your makeup is dark, your mascara is sharp, your nails are as long and sharp as claws, and chains drip from your leather jacket.

You wonder what your date will be like. Apparently, he’s a well-regarded and respected officer in the Special Fire Force, among the strongest there is. But you don’t recognize him when he comes up the road from his side of the city. He is tall and has a lean build that is hidden behind a black sweater and baggy jeans. His locks of black hair hang in his face, but not enough to hide his different set of eyes: his right pupil is a red circle with one black dot in the middle while his iris is black; his left is red with a white X in the middle, reminding you of a game of tic, tac, toe.

“Hey,” he greets easily. “You waitin’ for someone?” You scowl at him, crossing your ams over you chest. “Why are you asking?” you ask sharply. The stranger raises his big hands in defense, taking a step back. “I’m not trying you, I promise. I’m just wondering if you’re this Y/N that’s supposed to be waiting here for me.”

You squint at him, cocking your head to the side to see him at a different angle. “Benimaru?” you question. “Huh. You don’t look how I thought at all.” He is handsome but not enough to knock you off your game. He quirks a small smirk and you have a feeling that this dude don’t smile often. “I hope that’s a good thing,” he wryly chuckles. “For the record, you’re not bad on the eyes either…if that’s what you meant.”

You don’t acknowledge his compliment or react even though your stomach flips. You’re not used to anyone complimenting you on the account of your black lipstick and mascara. “So should we go in or stay out here to freeze to death?” you sarcastically ask. You huff and turn on your heel before Benimaru can even answer or follow you.

He easily beats you to the door on his long legs and opens it for you, towering over you as he does. “Is sarcasm just natural for you?” he asks, dry humor in his voice as you step into the theater. You feel a pang of guilt at your behavior. It’s not his fault your friend orchestrated this.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I’ll admit, I’m not too hype about being here. Dating isn’t really my thing, but my friend insisted I come on this stupid blind date…no offense.” Benimaru barely blinks at you walk to the ticket counter. “None taken. My friend, Konro, swore I needed a Valentine’s Day date when the whole holiday isn’t even a holiday. It’s pure BS.”

“Ugh, agreed,” you scoff, rolling your pretty, brown eyes ringed in mascara “It’s just a way for companies to continue to capitalize off of hopeless romantics and couples. Not to mention all of that pink.”

Benimaru nearly misses that, too busy thinking about how pretty your eyes are. “I’m takin’ you don’t like pink?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Not that your clothes are a dead giveaway or anything.” His interestingly alluring eyes tick up and down your outfit, making you feel hot under all of the leather. “I just like black,” you laugh. “But don’t get me wrong; I wear other colors sometimes, but only on a minuscule level.”

“Your friend said you were a gothic chick,” he chuckles, giving you a mischievous smirk. You send it right back as you take out the two tickets your friend sent you for the movie. “As gothic as they come,” you retort. Benimaru just hums in response, particularly liking you in that mini skirt and the way it swishes around your thighs.

After buying the tickets, you two wander into the small waiting area where a bar, a cafe, and an arcade occupy the space. “So the movie starts in about fifteen minutes. Should we head in now?” Benimaru doesn’t answer at first, too busy staring at the arcade games. “Nah,” he replies, nodding at the flashing, noisy games. “We can kill some time in here.” He begins to walk over, expecting you to follow. “Your friend also said you’re shit at racing games,” he says with a smirk shot your way.

“Not true!” you scoff, crossing your arms. He shrugs pausing in the threshold of the arcade to wait for you. You finally give in, taking off your jacket to reveal your black crop top. “Fine, but only if we got time for the shooting games too. I wanna kill some zombies.” Benimaru nods, secretly laughing to himself as you follow him into the arcade.

You spend way more than fifteen minutes in that bitch, playing all the games you can. Benimaru is good at almost everything, playing each game with skill and precision. He lets you win most of the time, just liking to see you smile and laugh in pride when you win a racing game or beat him at ping pong. During the zombie game, you get overrun by the undead while holding your plastic machine gun and you feel him lightly touch your elbow to point the gun straight. His touch sends shivers all over you. You win the first half until you run out of time and Benimaru smirks at you. “I totally helped you with that,” he sniggers.

You also play basketball, shooting them repeatedly through hoops. He always gets the farthest hoop and the highest points, winning every round. “You only won ‘cause you’re taller,” you huff, bumping your hip with his as you walk by. It gives him the perfect opportunity to watch your ass sway in that damn skirt, making him hard as a rock for you.

As walk to get something to drink, you stop at one game in particular: the crane game. It holds dozens of little plushies that you’re obsessed with, including the little black plague doctor with its big eyes and fluffy beak. Benimaru smirks at you staring at the game, walking up beside you. “I saw you looking at this thing the whole time,” he says. "You couldn't have been any less discreet.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, still staring at the plushie. He notices and pulls out his last arcade coin. “What, you want it?” You quickly shake your head, turning to leave. “We’re gonna miss the movie anyways, so–“

“Fuck it,” he carelessly interrupts, shocking you. “You obviously want that penguin, so I’ll get it for you.”

You roll your eyes, sighing. “It’s not even a penguin; it’s a plague doctor Squishable. It ain’t a big deal for me to have it, Benimaru.” But your date just glares at you as he bends down to put the coin in the slot. “And it ain’t a big deal for me to get it for you,” he argues. “If we miss the movie, we’ll just go for food.”

You are floored by his stubbornness and refusal to give up until he’s made you happy. How can that be? You only just met and yet here he is, using his last coin to try to get you a stupid plushie! You watch with bated breath as he plays the game, moving the crane slowly as he fixes his eyes on the plushie. Once he’s moved the crane right over the plushie, he hits a button, causing the crane to sink down into the sea of stuffed animals. The crane’s hooks latch onto the peak of the plushie and, slowly, he moves it over to the opening in the corner to release it.

The crane plays music and lights up in victory as the plushie rolls down the chute into Benimaru’s hand. He turns to you, an unreadable look on his face. “Here,” he says passively. “I figured goth girls didn’t like cute shit like this…but he is kinda creepy.”

You take the plushie, just staring at it for a moment. All of the sudden, you feel weird. You feel tingly and butterflies flutter around in your stomach. That never happens, but it’s happening for this guy! “Thanks,” you softly, and very shyly, say. Benimaru shrugs like it isn’t anything to him, but it is to you. “Y’know, the movie marathon is gonna be showing another night too…” You trail off, looking down at your shoes to avoid seeing his eyes.

“So you want another night with me?” he asks. Quickly, you turn on your heel and stomp out of the arcade, leaving him utterly confused. “What?” he calls after you, sounding genuinely baffled. “It was just a question!”

A second night with him does happen two weeks later and you do see the midnight marathon, but neither of you pay any attention to the first move that plays. You’re too busy bouncing on your date’s thick, veiny cock in the darkness of the theater to watch the film, biting back your moans despite the seats being empty. Benimaru softly grunts and moans into your ear as your walls flex around him, his eyes transfixed on the way your ass jiggles as he lifts up your skirt.

“Fuck, Beni!” you moan. “Y-You’re s-so fuckin’ big!” You grip his thighs with your long nails as his dick stretches you out in the best way, a delicious ache coming in your calves with the effort it takes to bounce on him. Benimaru stands up and bends you over the seat in front of you, beginning to fuck you from behind. He is fast and nails that single spot every time that makes you have to cover your mouth because you’re so loud.

“Shh, shh, baby,” he coos into your ear as he continues to pound into you from behind. “You don’t want security comin’ to find us, do you? Or maybe you do, you little slut, fuckin’ your date in the movie theatre.” He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls, much to your enjoyment of being slutted out in the dark. Anyone could walk in and see you fucking right now. It’s so naughty. So sexy.

The thrill of it must be getting to Benimaru too because he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against your clit as his hand smacks against your ass, gripping it tight. “Shit, baby, you’re gonna make cum!” he groans, tossing his head back at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around him. “Cum with me! Make that pretty fuckin’ pussy cum around my cock!”

You quickly begin to rub you swollen clit in time with his thrusts and soon enough, you’re cumming all over his cock. “Fuck!” you scream into your hand as your orgasm tears through you. Benimaru cums too, filling you up with a long groan that he bites back as best as he can among the movie playing. He lets you come down from cloud nine before pulling out, letting his cum leak down your thighs. He turns you around, pumping his cock soaked in your juices. “Not yet,” he growls. “Put it back in your mouth and taste yourself.”

You get on your knees, panties at your ankles and leather skirt hiked up. Benimaru wastes no time thrusting into your mouth, using it as his very own fucktoy, as he watches your brown eyes ringed in mascara stare up at him eagerly. When he pulls away to cum again, your black lipstick stains his cock, marking him as yours.

“Fuck!” he gasps as he cums all over your pretty face, ruining your eye makeup. It is now but black smears down your cheeks as his nut drips all over your face and cheeks.

“Poor baby,” he chuckles. “Your mascara’s runnin’. I bet you worked so hard on it.” He takes a napkin from your movie snacks and dabs away the cum. “So cute,” he sighs, marveling at how utterly adorable you look. You giggle, feeling deliriously good and cute, just as he says.

Yeah. A third date is most definitely in the future for you now.

250 notes · View notes

hiatuswhore · 6 months

Text

𝒪𝒻 𝒮𝒾𝓃𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓈 — 𝒸.𝓈

♕ A/N: I have mixed feelings about the movie but I adore the book. My favorite character is Sejanus, ugh my heart bleeds for this character. Never stop I’d be writing a fanfiction for this story. Coriolanus Snow is an evil but interesting villain. I thought I��d dive into the dynamic of him essentially taking what should’ve been Sejanus’s life.

♕ SUMMARY: Poor Sejanus. Poor sensitive, foolish dead Sejanus. A good son, loving brother, and amazing friend.

♕ WORD COUNT: 1K

♕ WARNING: Death

previous — Masterlist — next

𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Father had not left his study since word reached us. Every time Mother looked at me, I knew it was not me she saw. The tremble of her lip and mist of her eyes reminded me of my new reality. A reality where I drew breath as my twin did not.

I could not process it. Not at first. I would wait for a letter from him in the mail. His ramblings of doing good, of being better a constant any time he opened his mouth. Oh my good brother. Miles away. Hung in the districts for treason.

The first few weeks the house was silent. I could make out Mothers frequent sobs through the day. Other times the deep gait of Fathers boots from his room to his office. Rarely from his office to his room. Our home became much like a graveyard. Empty and cold.

This remained until the day Mother and I woke to every picture of Sejanus in the foyer gone. Mother sobbed for her baby, one would think Father was withholding her actual child. Still, my Father, the stern unforgiving statue of a man, refused to return all that remained of her son to her.

The first thing I began to forget was his voice. All the hours he spent in my room ranting angrily about our father. I’d lay on my bed watching him pace, his passion fueled and furious. I thought maybe he’d be president someday. Panem needed the likes of him.

“Well eventually Fathers time will come to pass and it’ll be you in the position of wealth and power. Be patient sweet brother. You’ll do great things, I just know it.”

He’ll hang in the poorest district branded a traitor. Some say he cried for Mother. Others say he cried for me. Oh how it was few and far between but make no mistake, I wept for my brother. My kind, sweet, sensitive dead brother.

As his voice faded over time so did the small details of his presence. How his curls always stayed so effortlessly in place unlike my own that would become frizzy in a moments notice. The way he his nose would scrunch when he laughed. His obnoxious snores he would deny whenever called out on it.

See, Father was happy to erase Sejanus from our home. His memory a reminder of everything our Father could never be. A compassionate soul. A loving brother and son. A good man.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐭 𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

Then came Coriolanus Snow. His gaze distant as he stood in our foyer, my father greeting him like a son returning home from travels. Long gone the hand made shirts and boots a size too tight. The messy haired Snow appeared far different, he too have died back in twelve. I wondered if he hung too or perhaps his fate was far worse. A mystery to never be solved, especially not if Coriolanus Snow could help it.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” His gaze bounced between myself and Mother. My Father said nothing while Mother embraced Coriolanus as I stared at him.

“Are you?” My words earned a stern tone from Father and scoldings from Mother. I offered a forced apology my eyes never leaving the leech standing in my family home. Gaining the world from the misfortune that befell my dear Sejanus. My father’s new pride and joy. At dinner Father was thrilled to announce his replacement son would join my side at University come the new term.

I left the table without a word. My father yelled for me to return as Mother assured our unwelcome guest it was not personal. Yet it was. Sejanus was to be with me for my first day of University. Not Coriolanus Snow.

Perhaps it was unfair. My brother was dead and I had already spent a lifetime despising my father. So who better to bear the brunt of my anger than the man who gained it all as I suffered my deepest loss.

𝐈 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐈, 𝐈 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐆𝐨

The night before our first day I stayed in my room. A knock at my door was an unexpected and unwelcome one. Mother was never a night owl and never in all my years had Father come to my room. Opening my door I crossed my arms leaning on the jamb. He stands holding a white rose his blue eyes piercing into my blank stare.

“I know you aren’t thrilled about me being here. I uh—I just wanted to wish you a good first day tomorrow,” Coriolanus spoke slowly. The rose still lingered in the air between us. I did not grab it.

“What happened to my brother?” His eyebrows quirked at my question, his lips parted as though he wanted to speak but nothing could leave him. I tilted my head my eyes narrowed before I retreated into my room leaving the door agape. At my shelf I rifled through the few papers and momentos of my own before finding the crumple paper stained with faded ink. The smudge writing typical for my left handed counterpart. My eyes on the paper as I return to the jamb, “…Coriolanus is here too. It’s nice to not be alone. His songbird is here, he plays it cool when I mention her but you can tell he cares for her. We’re like brothers, after what he did for me during the games. I’m going to protect him—“

𝐌𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

“Are you accusing me of something?” His own eyes narrowed down at me. The glint in them something I could not put into words, at the time I had no knowledge of the nerve I struck.

“Did you know of his plans?” I asked crossing my arms, my tone lowered. Father was always a light sleeper, if he had even been sleeping.

Coriolanus sighed, his gaze locked on my own unblinking. I narrowed my eyes and stared up at him. He shouldn’t be here. In my family home, enjoying all the luxuries owed to my brother, not him.

“I did,” Coriolanus confessed. He wet his lips, as he shared his knowledge of treason so casually.

“Then why is my brother gone and you’re here?” The waver of my voice cracked my hardened resolve. My body trembled beneath the weight of too many emotions to sort. Confusion. Rage. Grief. Disbelief. I choked back a cry and allowed Coriolanus to pull me in his arms as I sobbed into his shoulder.

“Sejanus loved you more than anything. I promised I’d look after you,” Coriolanus touch was soothing as he poured honey in my ears. Capitalizing off my vulnerability. My brother’s true final words to me slipped from my grasp as I took comfort from the source of my grief.

“—I have already requested a leave of absence for your first day of University. Look at the bright side sister. You won’t have to fuss about my hair being better than yours on your big day. They have buzzed my curls from me. We’ll be together soon, sister. Give Mother my love. With love. Your brother, Sejanus.”

𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐁𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞

#tbosas imagine #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus x reader #Coriolanus snow imagine #sejanus plinth #Sejanus plinth imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games imagine #panem imagine #the hunger games fanfiction #president snow #Lucy gray Baird imagine #young Coriolanus snow imagine #young Coriolanus snow x reader

173 notes · View notes

eviesaurusrex · 1 year

Text

ꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ | ꜱ. ꜱɴᴀᴘᴇ

Young!Severus Snape x Potter!Reader

summary: Severus never intended to fall in love again—not after Lily and the disaster it had caused. And especially not with the sister of his own nemesis.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none, fluff, Sirius being an idiot, Severus being an idiot in love

author’s note: Well, well, well. That didn’t take long.

;

He had never intended for this to happen, not again. He already had dealt with enough heartbreak for an entire lifetime, as young as he might be, but the young man knew that it would sustain the gnawing on his soul for the rest of his granted time on earth. And still, the universe loved to play its foolish games with him, torturing him to its heart’s content, constantly reminding him of his imperfections and flawed existence.

It was cruel—and Severus hated every moment of it. But not her. He couldn’t hate her. Not even if he wanted or wished for the exact same loathe-drenched feeling, he always felt when seeing her brother. The universe wouldn’t bestow it upon the Snape. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse, nor could he tell if this feeling would pass in the foreseeable future. Maybe he would be tortured for the rest of their shared time at Hogwarts; maybe he would screw it up and scare her away just like he had done with Lily.

All these lingering questions almost strangled and suffocated the Slytherin, and only her voice and presence could soothe the invisible rope wrapped around his neck.

“Fuck off, Sirius,” he could hear her seething tone echoing through the Great Hall as he had entered, his eyes finding her immediately amongst her peers of the blue-and-bronze house of wit and wisdom. The mentioned Gryffindor was seated on top of the tabletop right next to her, bothering her with his mere existence. Severus couldn’t contain the slight smirk making its presence known on his lips as he watched the encounter. “Oh, c’mon, pretty bird. Don’t hurt me like this. I thought we’d make a pretty couple.”

He almost choked on the snort that tried to escape his throat as he watched the fuming Ravenclaw rising from her seat, ripped out of the comfortable position she most obviously had rested in while reading in her book, cup of steaming tea—probably peppermint and lavender—right next to the now closed book. She was a handful of inches shorter than the Black, her head reaching him merely under his chin, but still, the students around them grew awfully silent. “Listen, dumbass. Fuck off and spare me with your thoughts if we are seriously going to such lengths and heed them as such. I’m obviously not interested, nor will I ever be interested, not even if you’d be the last man gracing Earth with his obnoxious presence.” He couldn’t help himself but somehow had to follow her after her artificially cheerful “Thanks, idiot.”

Severus felt horrible, always throwing glances over his shoulders to ensure that neither her brother nor the Black imbecile followed them, but he couldn’t keep his distance. Never. Not even in his slumber, filled with dreams ruled by her.

Unsure, he stopped after another look to still make sure he wouldn’t get beaten up again, not seeing her bouncing hair in front of him in the empty corridor anymore, void of any presence than his. He was sure she had been right in front of him only mere moments ago, leaving him standing here now like a damn fool. Muttering, the Snape scolded his reckless and headless behavior but was silenced easily as her soft voice spoke up beside him.

“Hello, Sev.”

Turning his head, there she stood, a gentle smile etched onto her lips, the entire opposite of the fuming nature she only possessed minutes ago. The only girl who called him that. The only girl who even acknowledged his existence without being disgusted.

“Were you following me?” Internally twisting and squirming under her gaze, Severus barely withstood her eye contact, swallowing dryly, but nodding nonetheless. He couldn’t lie to her. She hummed, and at the tender touch of her hand on his arm, letting those soft fingers wrap around his biceps, he finally was able to look down at her, seeing that smile again. She tried to rip his heart to shreds, he was sure of it. “I’m glad,” her words only a breathless whisper into the void, confessing something that should’ve stayed a secret until her last breath.

It shocked him, made his breath hitch somewhere in his chest, her mesmerizing eyes constricted his lungs with another flutter of her lashes. He suffocated but had never felt more alive. It was paradoxical; the universe and its odd humor were once again part of his life, but Severus wouldn’t dare to question it right now. Maybe later, in the depths of night, when sleep wouldn’t come upon him because his mind would still be too enthralled by the mere knowledge of her existence a couple of hundred stairs away.

It was maddening, to say the least.

“Are you alright?” He had to ask, had to know if the encounter with the Black offspring had upset her more than it usually did, but her low chuckle put his worried mind at ease. “Of course. I’m a big girl, you know? I can handle idiotic imbeciles, even the ones who follow my brother around like a pack of lost puppies.” The Snape knew that she could, so he showed one quick nod before he followed her lead and walked down a corridor he did not know its destination. “I suppose you hurt his ego,” Severus couldn’t stop his mouth from telling, couldn’t suppress the smirk growing on his lips.

And her laugh… Her laugh was everywhere, echoing from the stonewalls and filled the void with something far better than meaningless chatter from meaningless students. He was mesmerized by her, and he wasn’t sure if she even knew how mesmerizing she was. Potter always tried to overpower her bright light, but for him, he had never achieved what he had tried.

She was far more intelligent than the pathetic excuse of a twin brother, wittier than it was sometimes good for her, and utterly compassionate. She was a wonder among them.

“I probably was the first female being who told him No. Imagine the despair he must feel right now, tossing and turning in his bed, asking what he had done wrong! Well, he would most definitely look for the problem elsewhere than admit that he’s just a moron as anybody else in his proximity, my brother included.” They smiled to themselves while their footsteps echoed off the walls and depicted it as if they were the only people in this castle. “You wounded him.” She nudged him gently into his side as she softly swayed with her next step. “And it was delicious,” she chuckled before his own chuckle accompanied hers, evolving into a new sound he would never get tired of.

Severus knew that he was lost in those feelings for this particular girl, already fearing the next potions class, not wanting to have proof that he indeed was lost in the comforting sea that was her soothing scent, even though he already knew. He couldn’t fool his mind, couldn’t fool his heart as strange as that sounded. Yes, he had accepted his fate, his lonely path in this world, filled with unrequited love and devotion, only to have hope spread its flourishing roots as he felt a pair of soft lips on his cheek.

;

Thanks for reading, people! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated

#severus snape x reader #severus snape x fem!reader #severus snape x female!reader #young!severus snape x reader #young!severus snape x fem!reader #young!severus snape x female!reader #severus snape fanfic #severus snape fic #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fluff #severus snape #marauders era

597 notes · View notes

crypticdesire · 1 month

Text

you, me, and the sea are meant to be

MINORS DNI

dom amab reader x yandere!mermaid rook (around 3.5k words)

cw: rook is a little insane, yandere behavior, almost causes reader to drown, rook has an ovipositor and cloaca, ovipositioning, mention of baby trapping, face fucking, ...mmmm i think thats all....

You couldn’t decide if it was a good idea to come out here today. Wind mixed with briny mist causes your shirt to billow out away from your skin, and your pants slowly become damp from the cool wet rock you’re sitting on. Despite this you can’t help but enjoy looking out across the ocean on an overcast day, the muted grey tones of the sky and sea lulling you into a state of serenity.

Though there are some certain shades of vibrant colors you wouldn’t mind seeing. You stare intently at the water directly below you lapping gently against the low sides of the rock, a growing temptation to dip your feet into the water. It would no doubt be cold and you might get sick, but ever since you met them it was like the water was calling out to you.

Growing up on the hill above this rocky shore, you had spent plenty of time playing in the ocean, but now when the salty water met your skin it felt like you were being wrapped in some form of mystic energy. You liked to think that the sea acknowledged your presence and somehow made them aware of it too, although you were sure it was a foolish thought you should never voice to anyone else. Still, you find yourself allowing the small waves to lightly splash against your shins as you sway your feet in the murky water below you.

After a while goosebumps cover your skin, and you decide it’s probably time to accept they won’t be here today, and make the trek back up the steep rocky path that almost no one but yourself found worth the trouble to use to access a shore that seemed to be more rock than sand.

Just in time to stop you, however, something grabs your ankles causing your heart to leap out of your chest, half of a scream stuck as a lump in your throat.

Damn it. You should have gotten used to this by now, but at least your reactions aren’t as dramatic as they were before. You don’t even pull your feet out of the water as the hold on you is released, waiting for Rook’s head to pop out of the water. He was the only one out of the three that ever tried to catch you off guard like this, claiming it was a great source of amusement. And just like usual he has a coy smile on his face when he surfaces.

“Oh, mon joyau terrestre. I told you to always be prepared for the unexpected when you venture into our murky depths, non?” He casually adjusts the wet strands of his bangs before resting his elbows on the rock you sit on. His vibrant tail with a mix of purple and red scales bobs on the surface of the water, a tug of awe still pulling at you despite how many times you’ve seen it.

“It is really unexpected if you do it every time?”

“Perhaps not, and yet you still make yourself vulnerable every time” His sigh is not one of curiosity or disappointment but fondness. When you ask him about Vil and Epel, his smile remains but his eyes slightly narrow.

“My beauty isn’t enough to satiate you, mon joyau terrestre?” He rests his head on one of his hands, batting his pale lashes that still have small droplets of water on them.

“You know your company is always enough for me” You nudge his bare shoulder with your knee. “I was just wondering if I should expect someone else since you’re always the first to arrive”

“Maybe I just can’t break the cold surface of the water fast enough to feel the warm embrace of your smile” He gives you a toothy grin, a smile filled with more sharp teeth than you ever thought a mermaid would have. Rook let your curious fingers touch them once, maybe a little too eagerly, and you found them to be razor sharp just like the talons on his hands. Natural features for an omnivorous creature that lived in the depths of the ocean where they weren’t at the top of the food chain they assured you. But something was alluring about the juxtaposition between their delicate beauty and threatening features. A tingle went through you each time your skin was touched by one of Rook’s talons.

As if noticing where your attention has gone, Rook adds to his poetic words. “And scope out any threats of course”

Looking at him, it was hard to believe anything would faze him; however, from what they’ve told you their habit is to always avoid the dangers of land and its humans. Why they chose to continually interact with you is a question that goes unanswered. Migrating to your tiny corner of the world every summer maybe meant they didn’t fear a person they perhaps watched as a child stumble on the rocks and talk to any little creatures they came across. You met them as an adult a year ago, but Rook always talked like he already knew you.

“But to answer your question, the others won’t be joining us today. Vil has some matters to attend to, and Epel has been dragged along with him as punishment for going into the waters of the snatchers” You know he’s talking about the area the local fisherman frequent. “Just insists on staying in trouble I suppose” he sighs insincerely.

“I came today to give you something” he continues, taking a chain off his neck you didn’t notice before. As he pulls it out of the water you see the gold chain holds a jewel in a deep shade of purple. You aren’t familiar enough with jewels to know what it is, but it’s in a beautiful teardrop shape.

After dropping it into your hand, Rook pulls himself up so he can sit on the rock beside you. He insists on putting it on for you, your eyes intently studying his blue ones as he does. His touch lingers at your neck, talon grazing your skin as he follows the chain from your neck to your chest. You try to subtly adjust yourself to hide the fact the tingle has traveled down below your waist as well.

“I like there being something close to you that makes you think of me. Something close to your heart…” he trails off voice sounding mesmerized as the back of his hand caresses the place over your heart. He stares at the spot with yearning, almost like he wants to caress your actual heart.

You two had undeniably gotten closer this summer, this not being the first time he has visited you alone. You’ve learned that mermaids’ forms of affection, even platonic affection, centered around physical touch. But Rook’s touch had begun to feel different at some point, something more intimate about it that too easily stirred a desire in you. Unable to resist these urges, one day you two crossed the line of what could be considered platonic and never had any regrets.

You expect him to kiss you now, but any evidence of lust is gone in an instant as his expression morphs into one of pure delight, asking you to swim with him. Despite your reservations about the cold water before, it takes little convincing from Rook to coax you out of your clothes and into the water. You remind yourself that the end of summer will come and so will your time with Rook. Of course, your undergarments don’t help keep you warm at all, but Rook’s playful nature distracts you just enough so you’re not uncomfortable as your body adjusts to the cooler temperature.

“I love watching you swim mon joyau terrestre! The rhythmic movement of your legs is so adorable” he gushes. He dips underwater, and you feel his fingertips caress the length of your leg, from ankle to upper thigh. You tense when that touch extends to your clothed cock, that tingling sensation returning. When Rook resurfaces, however, he doesn’t acknowledge the intimate touch and instead engages you in more of his games.

After a while you give your body a reprieve, the sea calm enough to float on your back. You bask in the peaceful quiet, your ears submerged underwater and Rook idly playing with your fingers. A muffled sound tells you he’s starting to say something so you ask him to repeat it, slightly turning your head so one ear is above the water.

“Que c’est beau” he says “It’s like you were meant for the ocean. Such a shame you need air and swimming is so exhausting for you. I wish you could stay in the sea swimming with me all day” he pouts.

“Even with my pruney fingers” you joke, waggling your wrinkled fingers in front of him.

“I’ll take you pruney fingers and all” he gently presses a kiss to each fingertip. “If you could, would you go with me? Let the ocean be your home?” You smile at the thought.

“It’s certainly appealing” you reply not wanting to dwell too long on the impossible.

“I want that.” His grip tightens on your hand. “I want it so bad” Not knowing what to say, you let the quiet return, both your ears back underwater. Rook’s hold is still tight but you don’t mind. You don’t mind that is until he uses it to drag you underwater.

At first, you think it’s one of his games aimed at getting you to start swimming, but his grip on your wrist is ironclad as he pulls you deeper than expected. You try to grasp his wrist with your other hand to let him know you want him to stop, but he doesn’t even look at you. You don’t know what his goal is, but the surprise dive gave you little time to fill your lungs with air, and you close your eyes struggling to hold your breath.

All of a sudden he stops and lets go of your wrist. You open your eyes again to reveal the blurry image of his face smiling back at you, the momentum of the dive causing you to bump into his chest. You point to the surface, indicating you need air, and begin to kick your legs, catching a glimpse of Rook’s smile morphing into a frown. You don’t make it very far, however, his hands grasping you again. This time, he wraps his arms around both your arms and torso, holding you close to his chest. You can feel him nuzzle his face into your neck, but your body has gone into survival mode and you struggle against him. With little control over your arms, you desperately kick your legs, feeling them make weak contact with his tail.

Panicking you forcibly bite down on his shoulder without thinking about the consequences, his surprise loosening his grip around you. You immediately push yourself away from him and try to ignore the burning sensation in your lungs as water enters them. You can’t gauge how far away you are from the surface, so you just continue swimming. Your thoughts become unclear, the pain in your chest ebbing away but hopefully, the movements of your legs haven’t slowed. If only you could reach the surface. Black spots float between you and the surface. You think you’re still swimming.

You feel slightly detached from your body, but you feel the cool sensation of air as your hand breaks through the surface. When your face surfaces you flap your arms wildly looking for something to hold on to, coughing and spluttering as you barely keep your face above water. Your limbs are growing heavier and you can feel your body giving out when a sudden force propels you out of the water. Your mind is slow to catch up, but a few moments later you feel the rough surface of a rock beneath you, your insides burning as you violently cough up water.

You feel weak. Your body. Your breathing. Your ability to think and process what happened. All weak.

Eyes closed, you try to focus on your breathing first, opening your eyes again when you have it steady. You’re only able to squint at first, your eyes stinging and sensitive to the light even with it being overcast, but you can eventually open them wider to see the blurry form of Rook sitting beside you. You expect yourself to have some kind of reaction. You still can’t think clearly, but he almost drowned you, right? Do you even let yourself think that he was trying to drown you?

If Rook sees that you’ve come to, he doesn’t acknowledge it, simply humming as he gently traces circles into your thighs with his fingertip. Your eyes drift to his shoulder, the place where you bit him already becoming a bruise.

“You-“ your voice comes out hoarse and can’t even say another word before you go into another coughing fit. It at least gets Rook to talk to you.

“That was unexpected, non?” he softly smiles. He waits patiently for you to respond.

“I could..” You take in a shallow breath. “..have died” Your voice is quiet, not holding any of the rage or fear that would be logical to feel.

“At least a dead body doesn’t need air” he giggles. Your chest becomes tight like it’s feeling with water again. You try to discern the emotion behind his eyes, but find that you’re unable to do so.

“Relax,” he squeezes your thigh affectionately. “I’m only joking. Of course, I prefer you alive. I get to enjoy you more that way. I thought about it and in the ocean, the skin of your dead body would peel away too quickly, and I’d hate to share pieces of you with bottom feeders.” His mirthful laughter can’t erase the truthful tone of his words.

“Plus, I’d miss the way your body reacts to my touch” he looks at you through his lashes, the fingertip that was formerly on your thigh now rubbing the length of your cock over your soaked underwear. You feel the slightest tingling sensation, but you’re not even sure you could get hard right now. But you also don’t ask Rook to stop.

“Are you in pain?” He questions, which is a question you have to take a moment to think about, still not feeling completely connected to your body. The worst feeling right now is the painful raw feeling inside your throat and nose from having the salt water in your body. Your limbs feel weak and heavy, but you’re sure the soreness will hit you with its full force tomorrow.

“Just a bit” you decide to answer, voice still raspy.

“Do you want me to make you feel better?” He teases the band of your underwear. The logical part of your mind, though still dull, is saying that you should get away from him as soon as you can, but could your weak body really make it up that steep hill right now? He did admit he prefers you alive, so you can’t be in danger anymore, right?

You end up nodding your head, and Rook beams at you, immediately moving to remove your underwear. You let him do all the work, of course, watching every movement of his hands as he tosses your underwear to the side and wraps them around your flaccid cock.

He lets his spit drop onto your tip, spreading it down your length as he strokes you. He kisses your tip before taking you into his mouth, making sounds of pleasure as he tries to take you fully into his mouth. He’s careful with his teeth, but you feel a gentle scrape on the underside of your dick occasionally, causing your thighs to tremble.

His tongue is warm as it roams your cock, and you can’t help but let out a moan of pleasure when he gives the same attention to your balls, sucking on them gently after he’s licked their surface. There’s the smallest tug in the pit of your stomach to let you know his ministrations are working. You even lift your hips a bit to push your cock deeper into his mouth when he takes it between his lips again. Spurred on by your actions and the potential of getting you hard, Rook pleasures you with more fervor, hands circling the base of your cock while he bobs his head taking the rest of you.

As you become more vocal, Rook becomes more sloppy, his drool coating your cock as he continues to suck you off. He whimpers when he feels your hand grasp his hair and tries to deep-throat you again. You attempt to thrust into his mouth again, but his lips leave you too soon, hand rubbing your tip again.

“Your mouth doesn’t deserve a break” you grunt using your grip on his damp hair to force him back down on your cock. You feel him moan around your cock as you bob his head up and down your length, and then you bury his face in your pubic hair as you try to hit the back of his throat. He doesn’t resist you so you continue to pull his head up a bit before roughly forcing it back down until he’s coughing and spluttering like you were earlier.

“I’m close,” you tell him when you let go of his hair.

“I want to taste you in my mouth” he pants, fondling your balls with one hand as he goes back down to swirl his tongue around your tip. He then takes your tip into his mouth sucking as he strokes your base with his hand, and it doesn’t take long for you to approach your climax, hand twisting itself back into Rook’s hair as you come into his mouth. He whines, sucking you harder, and he doesn’t take you out of his mouth until he’s sure you’re done.

“Mmm. I love the taste of you mon joyau terrestre” he looks almost delirious as he takes his thumb to push some cum that leaked out onto his bottom lip back into his mouth, eyes fluttering as he savors the taste.

“I can’t seem to control myself around you” he keens, laying down beside you, and you prop yourself up on your side so that you can watch his hands trail down his abdomen and go to the scales of his tail. His fingertips begin to gently massage his half-extended ovipositor. Adjacent to that is his slit, which you wouldn’t even know how to locate if it wasn’t for him showing you a couple of weeks ago. He let you slip your fingers into his squishy insides and explore his cloaca just as eagerly as he let you explore his teeth.

You trace your finger along the edge of the slit now, causing Rook to whimper and beg you to touch him. He whines as you dip your finger just over the edge, fingertips roaming his cloaca before teasing his entrance.

“Please” he begs again, still massaging his ovipositor and you push the tip of your finger in, watching Rook’s expression as his eyes roll backward in pleasure. You wiggle your finger in the wet warmth of his entrance just in the slightest to stretch him out a bit.

“Ah you feel perfect inside me” he praises as you continue stretching him. “I wish you could fertilize my eggs, so I know you’d have a reason to see me again. I need you to be here every migration season waiting for me” His tail squirms as you push the rest of your finger into him. He’s so wet now, that his insides make a squelching sound as you thrust two fingers into him.

The end of his tail firmly slaps the surface of the water a few times, back arching off the rock as he climaxes. You slip your fingers out of him as he quickly turns on his side and watch as he gasps in pleasure letting out a series of three eggs. After he’s done he gently caresses the eggs with his fingers, looking up at you with adoration.

“Que c’est beau” he smiles leaning forward to brush his nose against yours, and you hold your breath until he relaxes his forehead against yours. Heat rises to your cheeks at the intimate mermaid gesture he’s shown you before, that heat being one of a burning need to have more. He seems prepared for the moment when your lips meet his, tongue probing your mouth, movements much more natural to him now than the first time you kissed.

“I know you can’t fertilize these eggs,” he says sadly when you pull apart. “But you will always wait for me, non? I want you all for myself all the time, but the sea doesn’t seem to want to grant that wish." he sighs wistfully.

"The only way I can leave you is if I know you’re always thinking of me. Promise you’ll never take that necklace off” his eyes shine with desperate need as he places a hand on your shoulder, talons slightly digging into your skin. You weren’t sure what your life would be like in a year, but given what happened earlier today there was only one right answer.

“I promise”

#twisted wonderland #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt #dom reader #cw oviposition #cw yandere

77 notes · View notes