#lys's drabbles

[sunlightandsuffering]

POSTING JEDI AU BC I WANT IT TO SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY BC I LOVE IT AND IT'S SO CUTE !!!

Jedi AU

Mikasa comes to Eren at sixteen, prim and shy, but ever eager to please. Eren is twenty-one, and he is not at all impressed with the assignment. 

Everyone else heralds it as an honour, what a big achievement to have your own padawan learner when he’s barely an adult himself. 

Eren on the other hand sees the ‘honour’ for what it really is: babysitting. And not just for him, but for Mikasa as well.

Because his own master had been drawn away on other assignments, missions that Eren couldn’t go on. And the Jedi Order couldn’t have their most rebellious young master running around the galaxy unsupervised. So, they’d given him Mikasa and said here, teach her. They’d successfully saddled him with more responsibility than he’d ever wanted and effectively knee-capped him from doing anything too crazy… Not that the things he did were ever really that crazy, they just weren’t so perfectly in line with the Jedi Order’s world philosophy. She’d stepped off the ship in a blaze of barely contained excitement, he could tell, even as quiet as she was that she was practically bursting with energy, but she’d been raised by the order, so what could he really expect? Orphaned at a young age and found miraculously on the burning remains of her planet, Mikasa had been taken in by a wandering Jedi and raised at the temple. 

For all intents and purposes, she was the perfect specimen, everything a Jedi should be and so not who Eren had wanted to teach. 

She’d looked up at him dutifully, waiting to be spoken to, eager to receive orders and Eren knew immediately she was going to be a problem. They were so diametrically opposed it was laughable, and he thinks the Order probably is laughing at him, payback for causing them so much trouble over the years. Eren sighs, reaching his hand out for a shake, “I’m Eren Yeager, I’ll be your new Master.” “I’m Mikasa,” she tells him sweetly, finally letting a small smile overtake her lips, “I look forward to working with you.” Oh, this was going to be a struggle of epic proportions, he can already tell.

The longer Eren spends with Mikasa, the more sure he is that the Jedi Temple moulded her to be everything he isn’t, to be his worst nightmare personified. 

Because that’s exactly what she is. 

“Well, Master I think we should follow Jedi protocol, and it says to call –” “Mikasa,” He tells her warningly, and she shuts up, her mouth pursing shut, she’s used to it at this point. 

This is how 90 percent of their discussions go these days. “The other masters will be mad,” she sing songs as Eren drags a droid away from the wreckage of the ship he’s trying to access. 

Eren sends her an unimpressed glare over his shoulder, grunting as he hefts the droid out of the way, “Yeah, well the Jedi Order can stuff it, there’s a lot of things they get mad at me about.” “Why do you insist on doing everything incorrectly? Maybe if you did things the right way like I tell you to, then you wouldn’t get in so much trouble.” “Who’s the Master here, Mikasa?” She shuts up again, huffing in irritation and Eren has to remind himself it’s him, he’s literally the master here, their very small age gap and her immense knowledge of Jedi principles blurs the line sometimes. He’s only five years older, sometimes it’s a little hard to boss her around so much, especially when to top it all off she’s almost as good of a fighter as him. He curses away to himself as he steps into the abandoned ship, because of course, he had to be paired with the most gifted Jedi of the new generation, topping even him in her midiclorian count and with the uncanny natural ability to simply kick ass. Her fighting skills are amazing, almost on par with his own, her only fatal flaw is perhaps that she’s such a rule follower. It blinds her in other aspects, makes her too trusting, too sweet. 

Something that could one day get her killed. Eren looks back sharply at the thought, his pain-in-the-ass little padawan nowhere to be found, standing guard until she’s given another order, proving his point. Eren sighs, “Mikasa, get over here brat.” He hears her make a little noise of affront at being called a brat, she gets all cute when she’s huffy, like an angry kitten, and then there are footsteps as she enters the ship. She’s hurrying so fast she runs right into him and Eren grunts as her little body collides with his at full speed, but he’s quick to steady her, firmly grasping her shoulders. 

“Mika,” he chides softly, “Be careful okay, and remember to follow me okay, what if there were still enemies out there, what if something happened to you?” There’s a pretty blush staining her cheeks, but still, she protests, “I can take care of myself!” Eren quirks an eyebrow up at her, his hands rubbing softly up and down her biceps, “And what did I say about that?” Her cheeks puff up as she repeats his words back to him, “I can’t say that until I can beat you in a spar three times in a row.” “And have you?” He questions, because yeah, sometimes being her Master is a little bit fun. “No,” she grumbles out in irritation and he smirks, giving her a playful love tap to her cheek before letting her go, and she gasps in response, “Eren!” 

“Master,” he corrects easily, already slipping further into the ship to investigate, and now he’s really pissed her off, her usually sweet, quiet presence raging behind him. She’s stomping around the ship, showcasing her rage at being spoken down to, and Eren can’t help his smile as he inspects the engine controls, trying to grasp what exactly went wrong here. He hears something fall but doesn’t look back, engrossed in attempting to revive part of the ship, maybe he can find an old flight path if he gets it going. 

His fingers fiddle with buttons and wires, all the while Mikasa seems to be making a lot of noise behind him, a lot more noise than he thinks he’s ever heard her make before. Mikasa really is the perfect padawan, or well she probably would be for any other Jedi – intelligent, kind, brilliant fighting skills, quick on her feet – all qualities necessary in a great Jedi. 

Eren would have preferred someone more flawed, an orphan with maybe a bit more emotional damage he could counsel, someone more similar to him. Not quite such a rule follower, someone he could really bond with, who might look up to him. 

Mikasa isn’t any of those things. Except for right now, it seems as Eren turns around finally after something else goes crashing to the ground. His padawan is glaring at him from where she’d very obviously knocked something over, sweet, docile Mikasa who never allows her emotions to get the better of her is evidently, very displeased with him. 

And most interestingly, demanding his attention, even more as she stares him down, those quicksilver eyes raging, purposefully knocking something else right off the shelf next to her. She’s exactly like a cat, a displeased little creature that gets what it wants. Eren can barely repress his smile, maybe there’s still hope for him yet, some fire in those pretty silver eyes of hers. 

He’s almost giddy at the thought because maybe she’s not a completely lost cause, maybe he can still corrupt her just a little, mould her into being a truly great Jedi instead of a standard foot soldier, someone who thinks for themselves, assesses the situation and decides the next course of action instead of consulting the damn Jedi temple on everything. “Miki,” Eren hums, and she perks right up at the name, it’s one she favours and something he doesn’t call her often, reserves it for special circumstances. “Are you mad at me?” “What gave you that idea?” “Miki,” he chides, beckoning her forwards, and she stomps towards him angrily. 

She stops just before him, glaring up at his tall frame, evergreen locked with silver and Eren smiles, full and genuine at the cute little expression of rage on her face, eyebrows knitted together in irritation. “Tell me what’s wrong?” “Master, you always dismiss me! And you rarely let me fight, even though I can. At the temple I was the best, I beat all the other kids, and I- I was so excited when I found out I’d be training under you, but you never let me show off, never let me fight.” She deflates towards the end of her monologue and Eren hums in acknowledgement, “It’s not because I don’t trust you Mikasa, I’d just rather watch you fight in more controlled environments first. It’s only been a few months, I don’t want to throw you head first into battle.” “But-” He tuts her, his hand slipping up into the tangles of her hair, pushing her bangs back behind her ears, he’s always had a fascination with that sleek pretty black hair of hers, how soft it is, how it feels under his fingertips, “Don’t worry I’m going to let you fight Mikasa, but once you can beat me three times in a row, which I know you will do.” He gives a soft little yank at one of the dark strands of her hair, “You’re a great fighter Mikasa, brilliant, especially with your lightsaber, but you fight predictably. Just like the Order teaches, the same spar you’ve done a hundred times. That’s not how real enemies fight, that’s not how I fight.” Eren smirks, his hand combing out her hair now, something Mikasa leans into, has always enjoyed the rare time he shows her affection.

“I fight dirty, and I always win. There’s a reason I’m so revered at the temple, that my missions are always successes, albeit with perhaps more damage than I’d usually like. It’s because my methods differ from the Jedi temple, and I think that’s something you need.” 

“Oh,” she murmurs softly, eyes now shut, like a cat, as he continues to finger his hands through her hair, his other one slipping up to join in the soft thick strands. She makes a little noise of contentment as he gathers the thick dark mop of her hair in his hands, leaning in as he styles it into a makeshift bun, using his own hair elastic to fasten it at the base of her head. He presses a soft kiss to her temple as he finishes, affection she’s never had, that Eren can’t help but give, something the Jedi Order frowns upon but Mikasa needs more than anything, such a touch-starved child. 

His hands skim down now, settling over her shoulders, “Do you understand now? It’s not because I don’t trust you, it’s because we’re already training Mikasa, and if I have my way you’ll be the best Jedi the order has ever seen.” “Even better than you?” She breathes curiously, her eyes soft and warm now, pliant, heather grey. He chuckles, “Of course, you’re my padawan after all, you’ll have to be better than me.” Mikasa smiles, such a full and beautiful smile, so bright he almost has to look away, “I have to train all those bad Jedi habits out of you though, I think they sent me the worst recruit they could find.” At this, she smacks him and Eren cackles, pinching her side. 

“At least I know how to cook.” Eren guffaws, “Barely!” “I’m better than you!” “Not by much.”

Sometimes, Mikasa wonders how Eren ever thought she wouldn’t fall in love with him. 

Force, how the Jedi Order had thought she wouldn’t fall in love with him? It’s like they were hoping for it. Even when she was younger, she could remember hearing about the trouble-making padawan that no matter how he went against the Jedi temple rules, never had an unsuccessful mission. She had been enamoured, who was this boy, this legend in the making? And then as she’d gotten older, moved up the ranks herself, set to become a padawan, she’d seen him in action and she’d been star-struck. Only once in battle before she’d been ushered away to safety, only a glimpse, but the way his hair had stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat, blood spattering his tunic, forearms pulled taut as he held his light-saber. He’d looked like a vengeful God, and for reasons unknown to her, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head ever since. He’d appear in her dreams, always standing over her, shirtless, saving her life, the lines of his back cut like there should be wings there. 

She’d seen him only once more before she’d become his padawan, and it had only elevated him further in her mind, up high on that pedestal she could never reach, never even hope to touch. He’d been in the middle of the council, and she’d been sneakily walking by, only to hear the voices of the council. And Mikasa, ever the dutiful student, hadn’t been able to help her curiosity. What she saw had been the dressing down of a lifetime, as Eren stood in the middle of the council, being utterly ripped apart for his most recent mission. She’d been nodding her head along, agreeing, until Eren had finally defended himself, speaking of all the lives he’d saved. 

That had shut them up rather promptly, and Eren had been smirking when she’d finally disappeared down the hall, her heart beating with far more than just the adrenaline of listening in on a top-secret meeting. 

Because Eren had looked particularly handsome that day, his hair windswept against his cheeks, the long cloak the Jedi typically wore conspicuously absent to display lean muscle instead. 

And now, at sixteen, the peak age for puberty, when hormones are running high, especially in battle, the Jedi Order had thought it was a great idea to pair her off with a handsome rebellious twenty-one-year-old? It was cruel, to be honest. Everyone else she knew had older men with beards for masters, shrivelled up and half dead. And here she was with probably the best-looking boy she’d ever seen in her life, and he was around her all the time. Mikasa knew she would be a good Jedi, it was what she was born and raised for after all, she’d spent countless hours sparring, mastering her use of the force, everything to be the best she could possibly be. But lately, she finds what is thwarting her the most is the whole ‘no attachment’ part of being a Jedi. 

Because it’s becoming really hard for her not to get attached. 

Eren steps out of the bathroom, clad in only a towel, his other hand occupied in drying his long hair, water dripping down the divots of his abs. Her mouth suddenly feels very dry, and he sends her a wink as she eats her soup. Yeah, it’s becoming really, really hard for her not to get attached. He disappears down the hall to his quarters, and Mikasa spends ten minutes fanning herself, chanting the Jedi Code over and over again. 

No attachment, absolutely none, not allowed!

But really in hindsight how did they expect her not to fall in love? 

Eren is passionate, almost to a fault, and since she’s joined him on his missions as his padawan she’s realized that he’s particularly passionate about her safety. 

In a way, it’s kind of flattering, and in other ways, it makes her heart almost beat out of her chest. 

He’s always saving her, even when she doesn’t need saving, he’s always there. And afterwards, he’s scolding her for ever being in danger in the first place, as if it isn’t part of both of their jobs. 

But it’s afterwards, that’s the part she adores the most, after the lecture and the yelling when he’s tucking her into his chest and whispering into her hair how much she scared him, that she shouldn’t go out and be so reckless. To which she always replies cheekily, “Isn’t that what you trained me to do?” He always pinches her side for that particular comment, but it never gets old, being wrapped in the warmth and safety of his arms, it feels like coming home, like safety in a way the Jedi temple never has. 

“Mikasa,” Eren chastises her from the head of the ship where he’s piloting them off towards some faraway planet for their next mission, ready to shoot them into hyperdrive, “What are you doing?” He can tell she’s up to no good just by the sound of her footsteps, how she tries to soften them just slightly, her breathing clipped as she tries not to let him hear her. He spins in his chair to find her slipping out of his room, and he quirks an eyebrow curiously, repeating his question, “What are you doing?” She winces as she’s found out, slumping in place. She’s cute, adorably messy all dolled up in her pyjamas, hair tucked up behind her in a messy bun that he aches to pull into a proper one. Always her damn hair. 

“I had a nightmare,” she murmurs, “I was gonna go sleep in your bed.” “C’mere,” he beckons her, his hands just itching to properly tie up that silky hair of hers and almost as soon as she’s within reach he’s dragging her to his lap, turning her around. She shuts her eyes blissfully as she leans back into him, her head tilted against his shoulder as he massages her scalp, gathering the sleek strands into a soft bun at the base of her skull, one that won’t come out so easily like hers did. “What was the nightmare about?” He murmurs as he ties it up with her pretty red ribbon. “Losing my parents.” She doesn’t miss a beat, and Eren sighs as he turns her in his lap, her hair now secured properly. “Are you scared?” She shakes her head, grey eyes tearing up, “I just miss them.” And before she can stop herself, the tears are rushing down her cheeks in hot streaks, more than Eren is equipped to deal with. He sighs, rough hands coming up to wipe at her tears tenderly, “I’m not going to bed anytime soon I have to pilot us to the next planet, but why don’t you sit with me? You can keep me company.” “Okay,” she murmurs through her tears and Eren settles her in the chair next to him, piling her up high with a soft fuzzy blanket as he tucks her into the large swivel chair. “Better?” He asks, and she nods, wiping the rest of her tears into the blanket and Eren smiles, his hand finding her knee to lovingly stroke, “You’ve got me now, I’m here, and I’ll never leave you.” “What about,” she sniffles slightly, “What about when I become a master in my own right?” Eren chuckles, “We’ve got a few more years but even then I think I’ll keep you around Miki, you’re not so bad.” She smiles through her tears, resting her head on her knees as she looks at him, “Would you have stayed with your master if you could?” 

Eren shrugs, his hand still resting on her knee comfortingly, and Mikasa shivers as he strokes over sensitive skin not covered by her blanket, his hands so big and warm. 

“Probably if I could have, but you know the council wanted me doing my own thing, cause less chaos that way, you know how it is.” It’s quiet for a moment and Eren smiles at her softly, squeezing her knee, “But I’m happy how things turned out, I got you instead and that’s not bad at all.” Her breath hitches and she feels like she can’t breathe, her eyes drawn towards his lips and the chiselled cut of his jaw, so brutally beautiful, the harsh angles of his face contrasted with the soft length of his eyelashes, those brilliant green eyes. He’s stunning, and she just wants to lean across the controls and kiss him, has to grip the arms of her chair just to stop herself. 

That night she falls asleep encased in his arms, even better than his bed, warm and protected. She’s only mildly upset the next morning when she wakes up in her own bed, devoid of her master, no evidence it had ever happened at all. Except when she glimpses her reflection in her bedroom mirror and where she expects to find bedhead sticking up at all angles, she finds only perfectly smooth plaits, meticulously woven and expertly banded together. 

Mikasa is not oblivious to the fact that Eren has needs, more carnal needs, it’s something she’d discovered a few months into her apprenticeship. She’d seen a pretty girl leaving his rooms as she reported, bright and early, ready to start the day. Eren hadn’t exactly been thrilled to see her, looking a little worse for wear. He’d grumpily told her to come back in an hour. 

She’d left wondering what this awful feeling in her gut was, this painful sorrow she didn’t understand. 

The feeling had only grown with every subsequent girl she saw him with, how he’d pick them up in different worlds between missions, shooing her off to her quarters and telling her not to knock on his door that night. The deep selfish part of her always wondered what he’d do if she did knock, if she claimed to have a nightmare, would he drop everything for her, push the girl out the door to tuck her into his arms instead? The only thing stopping her from testing the theory was her Jedi training, and her strict promise to herself not to get attached. 

She’s not attached already, she’s absolutely not! Well… maybe she is, just a little bit. 

And as she teeters on the edge of seventeen, a few months until her eighteenth birthday, her attachment becomes more and more apparent. She’s been with Eren for almost two years now, watching him, learning from him. She’s intimately familiar with him, his every quirk, every preference, how he likes his breakfast, how to beat him in a spar. 

It’s becoming dangerous, just how well she knows him, because she’s starting to notice things… things she has no business noticing.

Like his obsession with her hair, how he can never seem to pass up the opportunity to touch the long sleek strands, or how he fusses when she leaves it loose sometimes. He always claims it’s unacceptable for battle, too much of a liability, but Mikasa thinks he just likes to touch it, and she won’t complain. She’s grown to love it, the feeling of his hands in her hair, battle-calloused hands working at her scalp so gently, plaiting her hair with expert precision. 

Mikasa absolutely refuses to admit that she ruffles her bedhead up a little more than she should, that she enjoys how he fusses over her in the morning when it’s particularly wild. Mikasa has noticed this obsession with her hair also seems to extend to his overnight guest preferences. At first, it had pained her to see all these beautiful women slip from Eren’s quarters, long sleek dark hair, always a shade of dark brown or raven as her own, and always long and silky. Temptresses, Mikasa thought of them, beautiful women with perfect bodies, and long flowing hair, styled in a way Eren would never allow her to even think of. To leave her hair loose was to be killed in battle, and it was something her master adamantly refused, always pulled the pretty dark strands taut against the back of her head in some sort of twist. 

She tugs on her long strands self-consciously as she sips her morning tea, awaiting the exit of Eren’s visitor from last night. She’s thought about cutting the strands short, but she thinks Master would have even more of a conniption about that, and if nothing else she loves how he touches her, can’t help but finger the strands, comb his hands through the silky locks. 

Mikasa prides herself on how perfectly taken care of it is, always smelling of lavender and sage, preening when Eren notices the scent. There is the click of a door and Mikasa’s head snaps up, torn from her daydreams and she spots her, a blonde today, the golden colour more bronze, so dark it almost borders on brunette. And as they lock eyes, Mikasa’s mouth twists up in disgust, because she’s discovered another preference of her master’s, one she hadn’t been sure of, but today confirms it. 

He prefers Jedi women, to anyone else. 

She’s not sure when he picked up this proclivity, probably only in the last few months, but recently it feels like every girl she sees exiting his room she’s also seen around Jedi headquarters. 

It’s awkward, but at least they don’t linger. 

Because Jedi don’t form attachments… Thus, Mikasa cannot be forming an attachment. And there is, therefore, zero reason for her to be excited about the prospect of Eren preferring Jedi women, hopeful even. Why should she be excited about that? Why would she? She’s not attached, not at all. 

She’s also not jealous of the pretty blonde Jedi she’s seen around Jedi headquarters, that she’s seen Eren talk to more than she’d like. Mikasa does not fume silently as she watches the woman slip out of Eren’s bedroom, Jedi robes askew and with a slightly guilty look on her face. “Mikasa,” She whispers, shocked as she stands in the main lobby, a stand-off as she notices Mikasa seated at the ship’s helm, glaring miserably at Eren’s door. “Misha,” Mikasa responds coldly. 

Internally, she chastises herself, the ever-present voice of the order in her ear, urging her to call this woman ‘master’, to give her the respect she is owed. Mikasa takes a cue from Eren for once and continues to simply glare at the woman instead, the petty part of her refusing to even stand to greet her. “What are you doing up dear? I umm I hope we didn’t wake you –” “You didn’t,” Mikasa retorts, cutting her off, “But you should head out, Master and I have to leave soon.”

“Oh,” Misha mumbles, looking slightly put out, “Well could you pass along a message for me?” No, no she will not, but Misha doesn’t have to know that. “Tell him I’m around here a lot if he ever wants to…” Misha trails off and Mikasa wants to growl at her, how inappropriate the request is. The Jedi Order trained part of her kicking and screaming in her head about propriety and attachments and the fact that this is her fucking superior, asking her to proposition her own master on her behalf. But instead of saying anything, Mikasa forces a smile, just the smallest twitch of her lips, snuggling further back into her chair, “I’ll be sure to relay the message.” Misha smiles, “Thanks Mikasa, you’re a promising padawan I know you’ll do great things.” Yes, yes she will, but she doesn’t need this woman to tell her that. “Goodbye Misha,” Is Mikasa’s only response, a dismissal, and she can’t resist the cruel smile of triumph at how Misha deflates. The woman linger for another moment, glances back towards Eren’s door one more time as she leaves, looking slightly put out by the entire interaction. 

It is a small consolation to Mikasa, especially when Eren asks about her a few hours later, looking glum.  “Did you see Misha when she left this morning?”

“No,” Mikasa tells him primly, “But when we were fuelling up I saw her laughing with Master Reiner, they seem quite close.”

“Oh,” Eren replies, looking slightly put out, “I umm didn’t realize they knew each other so well.”

“Neither did I,” Mikasa comments casually, beginning to steer the ship out of the port, a responsibility Eren has finally allowed her again after the meteor incident.

“But they must be quite close,” She continues nonchalantly, “She was touching his arm, they seemed so comfortable together.”

Eren says nothing and Mikasa presses her lips together to repress her pleased smile as Eren drops down into the seat next to her, a hand slipping up to affectionately tug at her bangs, “Don’t crash the ship again please.”

She beams at him, “I’m only as good as my teacher, Master.”

“That’s it, give me the wheel, brat.”

Life is good.

#jedi em au #jedi au eremika #jedi eremika #lys's drabbles

[urfriendlywriter]

prompts that has me lying on a highway:

(feel free to use <3 10, 15, 20 are my favs omds. yall tag me when u writeeee I'd love to read :))

"I'm glad you were strong, love."

"i notice the little efforts you make for me.. and i just want you to know i appreciate it." whos cutting onions

SMILING during a kissss >>>>>

the gaze that softens as soon as it lands on you.

hand holding, twirling in their arms, slow dancing > <

telling a joke just to see them laugh

"love.. isn't a word enough to express what i feel for you."

"you were my bestfriend, before you were anything else, love." <333

hugging. especially if they're not much of a hugger, but they keep hugging you because you feel down. (this is my bestfriend aaah ilovehersm :( )

"tell me what you want, baby." in the deepest, nearly inaudible murmur AAAAH

when they always feed you their last bite

"give me a hug."

"i can't even act mad at you, love."

flirty BANTERS!!!!

"I'll come over there and make you shut up then." "you can try."

"i love you." "say it again."

caressing one's cheek (the one in the face.)

running into each other's arms after barely surviving

enemies but one is admitting, confessing and crying to the another after almost losing them!!!!!

collecting your injured lover,

^ "don't you dare die on me, [full fckn name]." "i won't, my love, i want to live for you... with you. for a long time." they strain but their smile after makes you cry.

"this is so wrong," "if so, then stop me, love," "you tempt me, [name]-" cue a KISSSSS "-and you drive me insane."

being curled up together on the bed, their face buried in your chest.

"i like how you did ____ today/that day."

forehead kisses. cheek kisses, knuckle kisses.

#writing inspiration #writer prompts #otp prompts #dialogue prompts #romance writing #imagine your otp #writeblr #writing prompts #urfriendlywriter #romance prompts writing #soft gestures #soft prompts for lovers #soft prompts #soft dialogue prompts #romantic gestures #gestures that says i love you #prompts that has me lying on a highway #my best friend does most of thsse to me. the platonic ones AND i think my standards r wayyy above the level lmao #otp writing #otp drabble prompts #writing inspo #writing ideas #writers of tumblr #women writers #writing prompt #how to describe love #romance tropes #love prompts that melted me #love prompts #enemies to lovers trope

[sashiavi]

Modern! Wriothesley with his large hand around your throat, teasing a soft squeeze. He'll raise his brow, pulling a long drag out of his cigarette, collecting the spicy smoke in his lungs before shotgunning you. He breathes into your lips dragging you into a sloppy, tongue and teeth filled kiss.

Modern! Wriothesley fingering you so, so sweetly. He's in awe at your pretty slick pooling around the rings on his fingers. He's rough and fast until he's pulling away, slapping your clit meanly, bringing his sticky digits to your lips.

"Clean em' up, Sweetheart.."

You wrap your lips around his fingers, licking up your own creamy mess, tasting the tangy metallic brine around his expensive rings. Your teeth clip into the curved metal, tongue lapping and sliding between the webs of his fingers.

Modern! Wriothesley post sex. Loose sweatpants barely clinging to his hips, the man leaning his forearm over the balcony railing of his expensive apartment. He flicks the ash of his cigarette over the balcony, watching the dusted red flecks fall, head lulled on his shoulder. His bare back stings with scratches in the crisp night air, flaring red and striped for you to see from his plush, cushy bed.

#risa's rambles #thinking of all the modern wrio posibilities </3 #cigarettes are bad 😔 and so unsexy 😔 #(im lying) #cant stop wont stop thinking about it #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #wriothesley x reader smut #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #pulling this from my dms with mads cause we be delusional </3 #sashiavi drabbles #sashiavi thirsts #ʚ•*°SashiAvi Writes°*•ɞ

[simp-ly-writes]

Okay but Price on a road trip would 100% be the guy to stick his hand around to the backseat. Shaking his palm around upwards for snacks to be poured in as he drives and you voice out navigations from the passengers seat. You turn around to watch the rest of the boys all huddled up in the back- shifting around and fighting one another for space as you snap a picture for the album.

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod fandom #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw #cod john price #headcannon #short fic #drabble #simp-ly-writes #simp-ly

[cascade05]

Convenience

This is kinda suggestive so watch yo self, unless you don’t wanna...

Thinking about Bakugo and his pretty secretary. She wears very business chic clothes, mature and sexy as oppose to cute.

Suit pants that hug her--not enough to be innapropreate but enough to make it obvious she works out. Suit shirts that dip into her chest a little bit, not enough to be immoddest but just enough to drive Bakugo wild. Stilletoes. Just plain black stilletoes, nothing else. She does have a pair of black flats tucked under desk and a pair of pristine black sneakers, just in case. When she wears pencil skirts, Bakugo is just about sent to his knees. And if the way the freshly pressed fabric hugs her hips wasn't enough, she dares to come into the office with a pencil skirt that has a zipper going straight down her ass.

It's the convenience of it that really gets him. How easy it would be to just pull the top zipper all the way down, exposing her lacy black underwear to him. (He only knows because she bent down that one time and he saw it ON ACCIDENT! When he thought about it that night it wasn’t really on accident tho—)

It's the convenience, he tells himself as he watches her strut out of his office. She's beautiful and just so conveniently always apart of his day, that's the only reason he can't stop thinking about her. It's not because she doesn't put up with his shit and it's not because she's constantly defending him when sponsors say something sour about him. It's definitely not the worried glances she gives him when he comes back from patrol a little more banged up than usual—he'd like to bang her a little more than usual when she wears that stupid skirt—

It's convenience, he thinks. He knows her and she knows him. Its convenience, he convinces himself. That's all.

Definitely not whatever the hell his heart keeps telling him.

#lol he’s lying to himself #always lying to himself #this happened cause i saw a skirt like this and thought #that has some uber spicy daydreaming potential… #zesty #bnha #mha #bakugo katsuki #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski #bakugou x reader #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #x reader #cascade05 #lol

[jayflrt]

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐒 19. seek BetterHelp.com

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SUMMARY ▸ in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.

#IM BACK (REAL) (NOT LYING LIKE LAST TIME) (TRUSTWORTHY) #enhypen #enhypen smau #heeseung fluff #heeseung smau #enhypen imagines #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #enhypen social media au #heeseung x reader #enhypen reactions #heeseung reactions #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios #enhypen drabbles #heeseung drabbles

[mirkwoodmunson]

you get woken up by the calloused hand gently pressing onto your forehead, a thumb stroking your temple while warm breath puffs the shell of your ear, a soft voice murmuring to you and helping you gain back your consciousness. the further you wake, though, the more you’re aware of your discomfort — aching and groggy and… damp? you start to tremble.

“baby… your fever’s breaking.”

“mmnnnngg…”

“you’re sweating, honey — c’mere, your shirt is soaked.”

sure enough, as eddie gets up and starts to help you up as well, you grimace and whine as you feel the damp, heavy fabric stick to your clammy skin, hair clinging to your forehead that eddie swipes away before pecking a kiss.

you can tell by the darkness behind the curtains it’s not time to wake up yet, but eddie is determined, knows you’re really out of it but that you must be uncomfortable. and he would not be having that.

the sheets and even eddie’s own shirt are damp, he sees the grimace twist deeper as you fist his ratty black sabbath tee, bottom lip pushed out in perhaps the cutest guilty pout he’d seen. he chuckles softly and takes your hand from his shirt, lifts it to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

“hey hey hey, it’s okay. we’re gonna get changed, okay? get you feeling cozy again.”

he sets your hand back down, and gently begins to lift the hem of your shirt, encouraging you to lift your arms. when you do, he easily lifts it up and away, discarding it into the dirty pile. instantly you begin to shiver, and eddie scolds himself.

“shit i’m sorry baby i’m sorry,” he scrambles to yank a clean tee from the dresser and quickly, gently dresses it onto you, stroking your shoulders, and instantly you’re warm again. you hum a soft, gravely sound and he smiles before removing his shirt as well, not bothering to grab a new one.

eddie leaves the room for just a moment, and returns with a blanket that he opens and spreads over the sweat-damp sheets, helping you to lie back down. he settles in with you once you’re comfortable, face to face now rather than him spooning behind your back to give you room, your arms and legs tangled together as he nuzzles and kisses your fingers.

“comfy?” he whispers, and you murmur a soft, nasally reply in confirmation. eddie smiles wide and nudges forward to kiss the tip of your nose, settling in close to you.

he listens to your breathing — slightly ragged and low, but even and calm — the slowing of your breaths as you fall back asleep in a newfound state of comfort. he refuses to let himself doze off until he hears the little snores, a confirmation of your peace.

#is like half the fandom sick rn???? i think we’re all sick #not proofread i wrote this in like 20mins while lying in bed n just wanted to do some eddie comfort hkkgkgk #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson sickfic #mine #1k

[heeracha]

[ 5:48 PM ] — you enter the apartment, heeseung sitting on the couch as he looks away from you. you look at him as he ignores your presence. you walk to him, putting the small bouquet of baby's breath on the space beside him.

"what's that?" heeseung asks, still not sparing you a glance.

"i remembered you when i passed by a flower shop." you mumble, going inside the room as you remove your coat. heeseung follows your figure as it goes inside, his eyes turning into the doe eyes you loves when he gets soft. he looks at the flowers, grabbing it as he looks at the small card inserted at the side.

baby's breath = "i want to stay with you forever."

heeseung turns the card around and he smiles.

i love you. i'm sorry.

heeseung smiles. fuck that. he feels himself melt into puddles, inwardly groaning because he could never stay mad at you for too long. he was just planning to ignore you until you sleep, he didn't expect you to do this. he stands up, going in the room to see you brushing your hair. you look up, seeing him with the flowers on one hand.

heeseung pulls you up, hugging you on your waist as you put your arms around his shoulders. "you never let me be mad at you." heeseung softly says, kissing your cheek.

"did you like the flowers?" you ask.

"i love them." heeseung says as he looks at the flowers. "i want to stay with you forever, too." he mumbles and you tighten your arms around him.

"hee," you call and he hums. "i know everyday won't be nice, fights are bound to happen, but know that even if we're fighting, i never love you less."

he closes his eyes, pressing his lips against your cheek as you close your own eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks. "i love you so much." he mumbles. "too much." he adds and you smile. "everyday, my love for you just grows. i never thought it was possible, but you made it."

you softly chuckle and heeseung kisses your cheek one more time before pulling away. you sigh, smiling at him as you wipe your tears off. "i love you." he says, kissing your tears away and wiping them.

you sigh, kissing his hand and he smiles. "you wanna eat ramen?" you ask and heeseung chuckles.

"i'd love to, but i ran out of stock." he says and you smile.

"i know, i bought you a box." you say and heeseung laughs, holding your hand as he takes you to the kitchen to remind you how much he loves you.

— rbs, comments, feedbacks and likes are vv much appreciated. <3

#i found it lying in my drafts lol #Hiraya-M #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung reactions #heeseung fluff #heeseung soft hours #heeseung x reader

[whumpasaurus101]

Whumpee was curled up on the cold floor, laying on their side with their legs hugged to their chest as they gasped for air. They felt as if they couldn't move. Blood ran from their nose, their hand cupping their side as each gasp irritated their ribs.

Occasionally, their body would twitch, the movement sending a flash of pain everywhere. A low whimper escaped Whumpee's throat as their eyes squeezed shut tightly.

Whumper's footsteps echoed through the room, their heavy combat boots making a thud with each step. The noises stopped and Whumpee just barely opened their eyes. In front of them, stood Whumper's boots, Whumpee's blood splattered on some parts. Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut.

"Oh how the mighty ones fall," Whumper smirked, bending down on their hunkers as their gloved hand brushed away a strand of Whumpee's hair from their face. Whumpee didn't even have the energy to flinch away, to shout an insult at them, to swat their hand away. They just lay there, desperate to feel anything but the pain they were currently in.

"Are you ready now? All you have to do is say one word and this will all be over," Whumper cooed.

Fuck you. Fuck you- you disgusting creep I hate you so fucking much.

"Pl...please..." Whumpee rasped, a tear rolling down their bloodied cheek. They felt disgusting, dread dripping in their stomach as they gave into Whumper. Disgusting. Broken.

#ooo dayum #whumpee is not happy #HUDIHDKJDHD #UGH IDK BUT THERES JUST SMTHN ABT WHUMPEE JUST LAYING THERE AFTER BEING BEATEN UP TO THE STATE WHERE TEHY ARE JUST BARELY CONCIOUS #LIKE #LIKE AT THE VERY START THEYRE SO DEFIANT #AND ONLY LIKE #30 MINS TO AND HOUR LATER THEYRE LYING ON THE GROUND #A COMPLETE MESS #ANYWAY YHUISJHUIKHJDDIYBHJDGHS #whump drabble #whumpee #whump #whumper #lee wrote something :o #whumpblr #whump writing #whump aftermath

[person-behind-books]

kakashi has been choking on flowers for longer than his lungs have been without. the seet developed when a small boy kicked him into a tree and grinned visciously at the victory and a flower bloomed when said boy, now a bit taller, yelled at him that leaving comerades behind made you worse than trash. not even two hours later the boy was dead. the flower didn't die with him but also didn't continue growing. kakashi, unable to let the memories go, kept it. with time he got used to the pain and found ways to work with the lessened lung capacity. then on a battlefield many years in the future a mask cracks apart and to flower stirs for the first time. there is hope, obito is alive, and despair, obito is trying to kill everyone, and the flower neither whithered nor bloomed but simply stirred. her roots having made kakashi's flesh their home too long ago. when the war is over and his team and his friends and obito are all miraculously still alive, kakashi collapses. more so for his lack of breath than his chakra exhaustion or his injuries. obito, limbs shaking from the strain is the one to pick him up and follow sakura along as she makes her way to naruto and sasuke. sasuke and obito, after an uphill battle with only the support of the kazekage are given in the sole custody of konoha, to deal with and punish as they deem acceptable. their case, especially obito's, are difficult ones. sasuke because he betrayed his village, killed a council member, and attacked the five kage but also helped stop the war. obito, because he played a big a role in starting the war as he did in ending it. in the end sasuke is released on probation, to be accompanied by an anbu guard at all times for at least a year, at which point his case will be revisited and re-examined. obito, meanwhile, has a permanent home in the detention cells for at least the next five years. most people know this is only because obito accepted the verdict. with his sharinganhe could eseasly leave even the most secured cell and sealing a persons chakra for more than a month was considered too inhumane even by shinobi standarts. so kakashi is the new hokage and the uchiha are dealt with. life moves on. the flower in kakashi's chest isn't contend with that, however. it's roots start to bury deeper over the coming months and the flower begins shedding petals that kakashi coughts up in bloody puddles. it's a whole now agony, to have the roots move and extend after his lungs had spend almost two decades growing around and fusing to it. it'd even worse than when they had first pierced found their home in his lungs.

obito notices when kakashi's visits trickle down from twice a week to weekly to bi-weekly. how he looks worse and sicker each visit. he isn't told that there is anything wrong with the hkage but even someone who hadn't stalked kakashi for years, someone who wasn't as obsessed with the man as obito was would be able to tell somethign was wrong. then, one day kakashi stands in front of his cell, his breath coming in loud, wet rhasps and tiny conculsions making their way through his muscles. technically obito could activate his sharingan and the chakra blockers on every wall wouldn't be able to stop him form seeing the injury but it seems wrong. to look at him with his sharingan without kakashi's wish to do so. obito had taken so much from kakashi in his lifetime and he daren't take more. "i have hanahaki." kakashi talks in a voice so hoarse it can barely be heard but a tone steady and composed. "i'll die within the week either way so i was commanded," a wry chuckle "to try the last option. I'm alright with dying and this isn't anybodys fault. do you get that, obito?" obito is frozen in shock but he's been a shinobi for too long to let that hinder his actions so he hesitantly nods. if kakashi wants him to not enact revenge on whoever he loves for not loving him back obito will accept it and mourn kakashi like he failed to for rin. "i'm in love with you." becasue it's kakashi the words are spoken with a calculated moncholance that stops obito from understanding their meanings for a couple of seconds. then he activates kamui and vanishes from his cell. the guards aren't fast enough and kakashi to ill to stop obito from grabbing kakashi when he re-appears and taking him into kamui with him. he doesn't love kakashi. not like that. there's only ever been rin and even his obsession with kakashi isn't love. obito is fond of him and needs him to keep living but he's not in love and now that will be what kills kakashi after years of surviving whatever the world threw at him. obito can't accept that. he has trained for years to only send some parts of his body to kamui. he has precice control and an almost perfect understanding of his body. and kakshi also has a sharingan. his sharingan. they are connected in a way no other two people are. he tries but when his chakra flows along and inside kakashi's ribcage he understands that to cut the flower out now, to leave it behind in a bloody, wooden pile would be to leave half of kakashi's lungs open. he would drown in his own blood before even suffocating. still, he manages to leave some part of the flower behind. and goes to the second plan. it's disgusting how madara's influence still haunts him. how it shapes his actions and guides his thoughts but in this situation he's grateful for it. kakashi is too smart to fall for it if he hesitates for even a second.

obito moves just fast enough that kakashi can see him move but not interfere and before he can act they're in the kamui dimention. his breath, inexplicably comes a bit lighter but hsi lungs are still being torn apart by flowers. obito takes a step back from him. then another. the he turns around and just screams into the void for a good moment. kakashi has no idea what's going through his head. at one point obito's shoulders begin to shake, his voice breaking, and when he turns back around he looks so vulnerable. "you love me?" his voice is tiny, small and terrified in a way kakashi never heard from him before. he nods because he promised naruto to do it and by now it's too late to back out. "and you're dying?" another nod "because of me." kakashi shakes his head because this is no ones fault. not his for falling in love. not obito's for not returning the feelings. "i- i'm sorry." kakashi has seen obito cry a thousand times. this time it's no different. big blubbering tears and a snotty nose are running down his face. kakashi doesn't understand how but something in his chest stirs at that, his chest filling with warmth. obito is an ugly crier, always has been, but to kakashi - for some reason - he is still beautiful. "i didn't know. i didn't know. if i knew i wouldn't have. i didn't know." he's still standing out of touching distance but everything in his body language is screaming a yearning to reach out. "i'm sorry. i love you, i'm sorry. i'm sorry. please stay. please don't leave don't die. i'm sorry. i love you i love you i'm in love with out. i didn't know i'm sorry. i would have told you. im sorry." obito is flinching further into himself with every word and pulling himself away, without moving a muscle. the flower in kakashi's lungs grows smaller, leaving chakra in it's wake that heals but not vanishing completely. kakashi believes obito when he tells him he loves him but he knows the rest is bullshit. obito isn't in love with him. it's obvious. still, it feels so good to have the pain vanish kakashi is floating. if obito want's to lie he'll accept it. he'll help him. they'll both just lie. it's enough for now. kakashi reaches out with his left hand. his right having entered too many ribcages between them to be considered neutral and at the brush against his arm obito collapses forward and his arms snare around him. this is fine. for now it's enough.

he'll keep lying as long as he needs to. as long as the other needs it. as long as the other accepts it. for the rest of his life if he needs to. to be able to keep the other's warm bodie in his arms. maybe they'll one day be in love maybe they'll die as liers. it doesn't matter as long he stays for now.

#that last paragraph is deliberately made to be able to be from both their perspectives #also you have no idea how hard it was to decide on a ship for this one. alternatives were kakagai with gai having hanahaki #yamakaka with either yamato or kakashi having it. sasunaru with naruto having the illness and while kurama can heal it's not enough to #survive the flower. madatobi with madara despite everythign having it and tobirama lying for his brother and out of guild #drabble #kakashi hatake #obito uchiha #naruto #naruto shippuden #kakaobi #obikaka #obkk

[shmothman]

Would You?

Vash the Stampede x Reader Rating: explicit (18+ only) Notes: oh look, more stupid bullshit from yours truly! (wrt this post)

“Alright,” Wolfwood says, “I got one.”

Vash turns his attention away from the gentle crackle of the fire to watch him grin and extinguish his cigarette on the rocky ground, sweeping his gaze over his practically captive audience. This can’t be good.

“Would you,” he pauses for emphasis, “fuck a clone of yourself.”

You let out a laugh at the same time as Meryl groans.

Wolfwood shushes you both. “I would,” he says, then he turns to Vash, sitting at his left. “Spikey?”

If Vash is being honest, he’s embarrassed that his first thought is about what you’d think. How will you feel if he answers yes? How will you feel if he answers no? You had laughed, so clearly you’re not as disgusted or exasperated by the question as Meryl is—and so Vash settles for his usual roguish smile, bringing his hand up to frame his chin between his thumb and index finger. It’s only taken him a fraction of a second to make this deliberation—no hesitation at all, really—and he answers, his voice slightly deepened, “a guy as handsome as me? It’d be a privilege.”

His heart stutters in his chest at the laugh you give in response, but he knows well how not to show it.

Then Wolfwood turns to you, and Vash has a sudden, unbidden thought—but it comes at the same time you say, “oh, yeah. Hundred percent.”

...His thought is more of an image, really, and a distracting one at that—it’s not as if anyone could blame him for the way it popped into his head, you’re the one who said it; Wolfwood’s the one who brought it up!—but the reality is that now he’s thinking about… well… two of you. You fucking yourself. Not in the way he usually thinks about you fucking yourself—because, yeah, he sure thinks about that a lot—but you with your hands all over another you, you with your lips parted in a moan as you get yourself off, maybe even you and another you and him, all tangled up in bed, and—

“You’re a freak,” Wolfwood tells you with a shit-eating grin, “I love it. Big girl?” 

And Vash has to tear his eyes away from you, closing his jaw that he now realizes was hanging open, his cheeks growing warm but hopefully unnoticeable in the darkening night.

“Hmm,” Milly taps her chin with her forefinger. “I guess so? Could be fun!”

“Yes!” Wolfwood cheers, “short stuff?”

“Ugh,” Meryl says, “no way! You’re all gross.”

“Booo,” Vash watches you give her a playful thumbs down, and then the group erupts into bickering—or, well, mostly Meryl and Wolfwood; you and Milly are just running interference—and Vash is left fighting fantasies he didn’t even know he had.

#thought about this last night and couldn't get it out of my head today #for the record: vash was lying #he wouldn't fuck his clone bc his self loathing is that strong etc etc #really i had their 98 voices in mind. as usual. but i think it's very apparent in this one especially #sef drabbles #vash the stampede x reader #trigun #x reader

[sunlightandsuffering]

Bruh i think I gave Eren too much rizz, he's supposed to be bad with girls, BUT MIKASA JUST BRINGS IT OUT IN HIM!!

Mikasa is lingering in the Purdy’s chocolate line nervously, mulling over her purchases, to buy or not to buy. 

She’s a ball of nerves as a group of university aged guys slinks into the store, eyeing up last minute Valentine's Day chocolate purchases just like herself. 

The only difference is that their chocolate are probably for their girlfriends… not their moms. 

She should feel more embarrassed than she does, but Mikasa only clutches the container of candy hearts a little closer to her chest, she has nothing to be embarrassed about. She loves her mom! And well, she nervously eyes up her other purchase, a rather expensive and rather large box of assorted chocolates that she’s bringing to a Pal-Entines party tonight. She cringes internally at the name, stepping another spot ahead in line. 

They’re not the best plans she could have, but at least she’s not sitting home by herself writing fan fiction like a loser. 

Although the thought does sort of appeal to her because her nerves are going to devour her whole as she steps up to the counter, placing her spoils for the shopkeeper to ring up. She’s been invited to the Pal-entines day party by someone who is definitely not a palentine, she’s still unsure if that’s a word. 

She’d been invited by none other than her current situationship, Jean, a very tall, somewhat good-looking if not a little horse-faced guy she’d met in her political science course. And now here she is, contemplating every life decision she’s ever made as the Purdy’s chocolate employee judges her silently over the cash register. 

Mikasa taps her credit card against the debit machine sheepishly, taking her purchases before the employee can make some sort of snide comment about leaving things to the last minute. She needs to get the hell out of the mall, she’s already seen several men in business suits walk by with oversized teddy bears or bouquets, and she can’t have the sadness of her romantic relationships shoved under her nose any more today. 

So, Mikasa heads off, jetting out of the mall and towards a party she doesn’t really want to go to, but really, how bad could it be?

It’s definitely not great, to say the least. So far, the event is mostly composed of Jean’s male roommates, Connie, Armin and the third one who is conspicuously absent. There are exactly two girls at the palentines day party, and she is one of them, Connie’s childhood best friend Sasha is the other. 

Mikasa awkwardly throws back another swallow of her cheap tasting solo cup beer because she fucking needs it if she’s going to get through this night. Jean keeps reassuring her that more people will come, that he invited more girls, that it’s still early yet. 

But he’s been saying that since she got here an hour ago, and the longer she waits the less true it feels. There is a pizza, and Connie and Armin are nice, friendly, and she actually does like Sasha, she’s really cool, so it’s not the worst party she’s been too. But it’s still not great, made even worse by the fact that this seems to be Jean’s introduction of her to his friendgroup as perhaps a bit more than a situationship and Mikasa isn’t sure how to feel about it. 

His palm rests on her lower back as he makes some joke to Armin about their third roommate, something about him definitely not having a date on Valentine’s day. 

Mikasa laughs where she should, cringes into her beer when Jean’s hand skims just a little too low over the curve of her ass to rest there. 

She is saved from an awkward removal by the door opening to reveal a surprisingly large group of people. “Sorry we’re late, Ymir got lost,” A tall man’s boy’s voice booms through the small apartment and Jean visibly slumps in relief. The tall blonde man, Reiner she learns is followed by an equally tall dark-haired boy named Marco, a small blonde girl with pixie like features they call Historia and a lanky freckled girl who she assumes must be Ymir. They settle into the apartment easily and Mikasa thinks that maybe Jean’s friend group isn’t so bad at all, that maybe she could see herself fitting in with these people, although maybe not as Jean’s girlfriend, she’s still not sure. He’s cute and all, and the way he keeps smiling at her is endearing, but she’s just not sure if there’s a spark, not sure if it’s right. 

“Where’s Eren?” Historia asks from beside Mikasa, where she’s been excitedly cooing over her outfit and how pretty her hair is, Mikasa finds she quite likes the blonde girl, she’s very sweet. Mikasa looks around curiously, did she miss someone? Jean squeezes her bicep affectionately as he notices her stare, before tugging her under his arm, “He’s out getting snacks, but I sent him to the grocery store a while ago he should be home by now.” Ymir cackles, wiggling her eyebrows, “Maybe Yeager is getting some Valentine’s Day action after all.” 

Jean scoffs, “No way, not Eren.” The group around her laughs, an inside joke she’s not a part of, and Mikasa’s lips pucker into a pout, who is this boy, and why does his friend group think he’s so bad with women? She gets her answer about ten minutes later. She’s awkwardly lingering in the kitchen near the door as she refills her solo cup with red Valentine's Day punch when the door opens beside her, and she yelps a little as the handle digs into her back. A boy appears, and it is at that moment that Mikasa experiences true love. 

“Shit I’m sorry,” A deep gravelly voice hums from behind her, and there’s a hand on her waist steadying her as he kicks the door shut.

Mikasa turns curiously, figuring this must be the infamous Eren, and it feels like time stops.

He’s handsome, too handsome to be in this crappy little apartment on Valentine's Day, if you ask her he should be in her bedroom, taking her clothes off…with his teeth. At the very least, he should be out taking some other girl’s clothes off, he’s too good-looking to be here at a mostly singles party on Valentine’s Day. He’s well-muscled, broad shouldered and wearing little more than a black-t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats that Mikasa thanks god for. 

This is the guy everyone has been making fun of all night, this is the boy that's not good with girls? 

He bites his lip, his gaze dragging down her form and a thrill goes through her as he checks her out, beautiful green eyes roving over the curves of her waist, the swells of her breasts and finally she’s thankful she wore this low-cut t-shirt. 

Like he can’t help himself, his hand dips over her waist, a fleeting touch, and before she can say more, he’s tugging her shirt up just enough to expose the taut skin of her stomach. 

His touch is like a zap of electricity, thousands of volts shooting through her all at once, rough pads of his fingers skimming over her stomach, up her rib cage, stopping just shy of the line of her bra. “Did I hurt you?” He questions curiously, his mouth quirking into a little smirk because he fucking knows what he’s doing to her, there’s no way he doesn’t know. 

A little sigh escapes her as he drags his fingers back down her side and this time lingering over the waistband of her jeans, and fuck she hasn’t even spoken to him yet and already he owns her. 

She struggles to respond, her mind focused wholly on that hand, his thumb now caught in her belt loop, the rest of his fingers rubbing affectionately over her hip, perusing for bruises that won’t appear just yet. “I’m okay,” She finally struggles out, bringing her eyes up to his and shit he’s so pretty, too pretty, a strong nose, sharp jawline and those eyes, green eyes that could consume her whole soul and she’d let them. 

“You sure?” He asks again, making zero move to remove his hand from its spot on her waist and Mikasa nods weakly in return. “Good,” He hums, “Sorry I wasn’t expecting to find a pretty girl in my kitchen, and Jean’s an idiot I don’t know why he put the punch right there.” Mikasa shrugs before taking a long pull of said punch, just to take the edge off she promises herself, there’s no way she’s going to make it through this without alcohol. “I’m Eren,” He introduces himself, finally moving his hand away, but not without an affectionate squeeze to her hip and Mikasa inhales sharply, he has such big hands and he’s so warm. “Mikasa,” She replies, almost in a daze, as she sticks her hand out for a shake. Eren’s expression puckers up into a pout as he takes her hand in his own, and fuck does he have nice hands, warm and calloused and so much larger than her own, god the things he could do with those hands. 

She represses a little shiver at the thought, because fuck yes his hands are really big and Eren is very tall, and judging by those grey sweats Eren is most definitely proportional. 

“You're Jean’s girl,” Eren says, and it’s almost sad, mournful. She’s quick to nip that in the bud right there, moving a little closer to him in their kitchen alcove, thanking her lucky stars they haven’t been seen yet. “Sort of,” Mikasa tells him airily, and she’s very purposeful, moving her hand up to his forearm, silver eyes locked with emerald green, “We’re not exclusive.” God, she hopes she hasn’t broken bro code just now, hasn’t acted like a complete and total whore, but fuck she wants this boy more than she’s wanted anything in her life, something about him is just electric. Eren’s mouth pulls into a wicked smile that has her heart skipping several beats in her chest. 

“Jean didn’t mention that.” She shrugs innocently, he can do with that information what he will. “A pretty girl like you, liable to get stolen from him, he should really do something about that.” “He should,” Mikasa comments slyly, and they’re so close now, gravitating towards each other like magnets, his hands find her hips again easily, like they belong there, fitting perfectly over her sides, his fingertips just brushing the curve of her ass. 

She takes another sip of her drink before shooting Eren a knowing smile, issuing her challenge, “Before someone else does the job.” “I’ll make sure to let him know.” 

“You should,” She tells him huskily, her voice teasing because she absolutely wants this boy to steal her away from her current situationship, Jean isn’t even a blip in her mind. 

Eren’s eyes are on her mouth, caught on the pink of her tongue as she wets her lips, and before she knows it she’s leaning in, up just a little because he’s so much taller than her. Eren is leaning down too, and if she does kiss him in the front entryway of her sort of boyfriend’s apartment she wouldn’t care, it’ll be worth it. 

But just as she leans up on her tip toes Eren pulls away, the rough hands on her waist pressing her down and planting her firmly to the floor. 

“Where are you going?” She asks as he extricates himself from her, trying not to show her disappointment, pressing her lips together to stop her pout. Eren smiles at her darkly before he gives her ass a swift smack that sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, the ‘slap’ reverberating in her ear, “Gonna let Jean know if he doesn’t get his shit together, it’s not his bed you’re gonna be in at the end of the night.” Mikasa watches him go, lip bitten between her teeth and still holding her punch tight in her hand, “Shit.”  She is so, so fucked. 

#lys's drabbles

[fbfh]

Lying on top of Eddie, your chest pressed to his, tummies squishing together. Even your hips are pressed against each other, right before your legs tangle together. His hands are on your back, running up and down, slipping under your shirt. He’s so warm against you, like a soft little radiator. Your breaths are shallow but relaxed as you feel his syncing up with yours. You couldn't be any physically closer if you tried and it makes you feel fuzzy and relaxed. You can hear the soft breaths from his nose and the cool metal of his rings steadily warming up against skin. You’re just propped up enough on your elbows to look at him. You take in his features, study the planes and curves of his face carefully. You trace your finger along his cheek, brushing his bangs out of his face and playing with his soft hair. He smells so nice, so masculine, so Eddie, and you can't get enough of it.

"What?" He asks softly, after you've been staring at him for a while.

"You're pretty..." you coo gently, enamored with the way the light hits his face. You say it so organically, so sincerely that your words slip past him and he believes you. He’s overcome with a torrent of emotions at your words, your soft touch. He’s never had anyone be this sweet to him, cherish him this much. He could wonder why, what he did to deserve you. Instead it fills him with even more desire to love you the way you deserve to be loved.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson drabbles #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things drabbles #drabbles #kisses him #i was lying on my stomach earlier and i kept thinking about this #he needs to be kissed tenderly right now

[camels-pen]

"Hey, Sanji."

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

Sanji paused to take a drag of his cigarette.

"Well, we sail with two gorgeous-"

"Sanji."

He sighed. "Yes, I have."

Usopp turned away from the night sky to rest his head on Sanji's shoulder, squinting at him.

"I have!"

Usopp squinted a little more before turning back to lay flat on the grass. "Tell me about them."

Sanji blew out a puff of smoke. "Why the hell should I?"

"C'mon just do it." At Sanji's stubborn silence, Usopp turned to him with a pout. "Pleeeeease?"

After a few more moments, Sanji scowled and blew smoke in Usopp's face. Usopp turned away to cough and rub his eyes.

The moment Usopp turned back to face him with complaints, Sanji said, "I haven't known him long, in the grand scheme of things." Usopp's brows rose high and he settled back against the grass. "He didn't seem like much at first. Just another passing face. It didn't take him long to impress me with his skills. I mean, that brain of his is incredible.

"And don't get me started on all his different types of weaponry. I'm still not totally sure how he manages all of that with random shit you can buy from any old merchant." Sanji sighed. "And he's absolutely gorgeous. Just the prettiest man I've ever seen-"

"Even more than Zoro?" Usopp asked quietly.

Sanji's nose wrinkled. "Disregarding the low bar you just set, yes. Prettier than the mossball by a landslide." A fond smile grew on his lips. "And he's brave. So so brave. He's afraid of so many things, but he never lets that stop him from helping his friends when they need him. He's amazing at what he does and he's-"

The words caught in his throat. Just as they always did.

"He's a king," Sanji finished lamely. "Of a really stupid island."

Usopp's mouth quirked up. "When did you have time to meet a king?" he asked, eyes glued to the sky.

Sanji shrugged, unwilling to name the place they just left. To avoid bad memories. To avoid being found out. "I know people in high places," he said, proceeding to bite his tongue the next moment. Different words, too close to more bad memories.

"Huh. Cool." Usopp's words were clipped. Neutral. It was odd hearing it from such an expressive person. " Did you-" his voice wobbled a moment before he cleared his throat. "Did you meet any other royalty?"

And though Sanji wasn't the resident storyteller, nor did he know why Usopp suddenly seemed so upset, he did his best to weave a tale of having to defeat a stupid grass covered dragon to save a beautiful princess locked in a tower.

When Usopp eventually headed back to the men's quarters though, he still couldn't help the nagging in the back of his head that he had forgotten something. Something very important.

"Oh, Usopp!" He paused midstep, but didn't turn back to Sanji. "I never asked, but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

Usopp stayed silent a long moment. Sanji had nearly chewed through his cigarette when he spoke.

"I did with Kaya- she's a girl from Syrup- and I get crushes here and there, y'know?" Usopp waved a bandaged hand and continued forward. "Ask me again some other time though, maybe I'll have a better answer for you."

Sanji watched him go, a heavy set to his heart. He muttered to the empty deck, "You're lying."

-

Two years later, the two of them found themselves spread out on Sunny's deck once more, admiring the night sky on their way to Dressrosa.

"You knew I was talking about Sogeking?!"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you knew he was me! I thought you just really liked superheroes! Like, a man's romance, y'know. Like how me and Luffy and Chopper get excited whenever Franky pulls out something new."

"You- I-" Sanji made a frustrated noise and took a deep drag. He inhaled long enough that Usopp was starting to get concerned, before finally, he blew out a big puff of smoke. "Okay, go on."

"There's not much else- I just thought Sogeking was a lot cooler than little old me and I never stood a chance against him."

"Usopp. You. Are. Sogeking."

"Yeah, but y'know. Y'know."

Sanji shook his head. "I really don't."

Usopp started to hum his old theme song. It was just as ridiculous as Sanji remembered it.

Just as it came to the end, Sanji whisper-shouted, "Lock-on!"

The two of them fell into hysterics, clutching their stomachs and trying desperately not to release the laughter bottled up in their throats. The kind that would echo across the ship and wake up most, if not all of their crewmates, and certainly their guest.

"You remember that?" Usopp said, wheezing.

"It's the only part I remember perfectly." Sanji said, hand on his mouth. "You used to scream it at the top of your lungs, of course I remember!"

"It was to build confidence!"

"It was because you got too into your performance!"

They giggled quietly, the built up laughter slowly fading away, until they were relaxed once more.

Sanji turned his head to stare at Usopp. Take the time to admire the way he'd changed and grown in their time apart. There were the physical changes of course- Sanji was a big fan of those- but also his boost in confidence. His surety of his place on the crew. With the crew.

And more than the changes, Sanji saw Usopp's carefree laughter, his passionate storytelling, his terrified shrieks, his quiet tinkering, his annoying pranks-

God, Sanji missed him- loved him- so much.

And then a thought came to him.

"Hey Usopp."

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

Usopp smiled, squeezing their interlocked fingers.

"Yes," he said, bringing up their hands to kiss the ring on Sanji's finger. "I have."

#one piece #sanuso #nemo the writing ho #i was going to work in something about mr. prince but perhaps another time #maybe another fic where Usopp's teasing him about it n makes a joke that hits too close to the truth #and also Sanji is terrible at lying. or at least to Usopp. so Usopp's immediately like. 'wait mr. prince ISNT a fake identity???' lmao #i should probably clean this up and put it on ao3. the vampire drabble too #at some point

[simp-ly-writes]

Price is 100% the type of dad to build a treehouse in the backyard with the kids. He complains while doing it about his back hurting yet he laughs whole heartedly while chasing the kids around, throwing them on his back while also settling them up on his shoulders to help him tighten a screw.

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod fandom #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw #cod john price #headcannon #short fic #drabble #simp-ly-writes #simp-ly

[lilypadlys]

Thoughts about Cumulus pampering Dew and braiding his hair.

The ghouls sit in the common room watching a silly movie that Phantom had begged them all to watch with him. Everyone agrees. Even Dewdrop although he made a show of rolling his eyes and complaining that the movie would be boring. Now though, he’s ensconced between the ghoulettes. His head is in Cumulus’ lap. Cirrus and Sunshine are on either side, pressed up against him. Aurora is curled up in his arms. There’s seismic event levels of purring happening in that corner of the room.

At some point Cumulus gets her hands in his hair. She starts by just carding her claws across his scalp, soothing and gentle. Once he’s melted into a puddle, she starts braiding. She choses a complicated and ornate braid just because it takes longer. Dew’s sitting still and being cuddly for once and she wants to enjoy pampering him for as long as possible.

She’s about two thirds of the way done when he’s drifted off. Giggling, Sunny waves Mountain over. He grows some flowers for her and the girls use the opportunity to weave the blooms into his hair. By this point everyone, except Phantom who's also fallen asleep, is cooing over how cute and peaceful Dew looks. Many pictures get taken.

When the movie wraps up, the girls grab blankets and pillows and make a nest right there in the common room. They all curl up around Dew, and the guys around the girls. Mountain has to carry Phantom over to the cuddle pile from the couch. They all fall asleep like that and Copia finds them there in the morning. Aether sleepily opens an eye and waves him over and Copia joins them as they sleep the morning away.

#the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #nameless ghouls #namelessghoulettes #ghost drabble #fluff #cuddles #pack cuddles #hair braiding #lys writes