#*insert nerd voice here*

[billyidolsimp729]

real science

[bklynsboys]

The Theory on Other Halves

pairing: spencer reid x reader summary: "there's an old buddhist saying, i once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making." genre: fluff word count: 1k author's notes: i wrote this because this particular line of spencer's is one of my absolute favorites! i think it's really beautiful how all of the people we love were meant to be in our lives since 500 years ago. and of course, as a fan of space & constellations, i had to insert it into this fic. enjoy <3

THE AIR HUNG HEAVY WITH THE AFTERMATH OF A PARTICULARLY BRUTAL CASE—TYPICAL FOR A DAY IN THE BAU. Dust specks danced in the pale slivers of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Hotch decided it'd be best to give the team a few hours to rest in the motel before heading back home. If it were up to you, you'd be back in your bed as soon as humanly possible, but rooming with the resident genius, Dr. Spencer Reid—the object of your unspoken affections—is an opportunity you wouldn't miss.

For months, the two of you have shared a silent dance of exchanged glances and shared interests. Your colleagues, particularly the girls whom you confided in, seemed to think it was mutual. Now, you sat across from each other on motel beds, a comfortable silence blanketing the room. You traced a thoughtful finger along the rim of your empty coffee cup.

"You have a constellation," he said softly, breaking the stillness.

Your gaze flicked to Spencer, then down to your arm where his hand had landed. A faint scattering of moles dotted the inside of your forearm, resembling a modicum of stars. A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Looks like Ursa Major," he mused, tracing the pattern with his finger. "Though perhaps a little worse for wear, and without the usual bright light, of course."

You chuckled, mirroring his action on your arm. There, nestled just below your elbow, was a crescent moon birthmark, a surprise you always enjoyed revealing.

"Here's another one," you offered.

He turned his hand, examining the crescent with a childlike curiosity. " It's beautiful," he said simply.

"Did you know," Spencer added softly, his voice barely a murmur, "that the ancient Greek saw Ursa Major as a bear?"

You tilted your head, surprised by the random fact. " A bear?"

A smile played on his lip. " Apparently, the constellation's asterism resembled the animal to them. Makes you wonder what they saw in the night sky that we don't."

"Well, my mom had a different take on that," you began, a fond memory surfacing. " She used to say my moon and stars meant I'd meet a space nerd someday who'd love these marks, and we'd be orbiting each other, kind of like the Earth and the sun. She was into soulmates, you see, and space."

The conversation flowed easily, a map of your bodies sketched through shared stories. You pointed to a jagged scar on your knee, the fading memory of you running around and ending up with a scrape on your knee. He, in turn, showed you the faint line on his palm, a souvenir from a particularly enthusiastic attempt at a science experiment as a child.

Your fingers trailed down the faint scar near his hairline, so faint one wouldn't notice it if they weren't looking at Spencer's face intently. "What's this from?" you asked gently.

Spencer chuckled. " You know, how I have really bad coordination?" He sighed. " I was lost in a book, I ran straight into a doorpost. My mom called me 'Crash' after that."

You squeezed his hand gently, a silent understanding passing between you. You knew how much Spencer cherished his mom, especially with her health declining. Sharing stories about her felt like a tender offering of his vulnerability.

He returned the gesture, his thumb tracing the faint outline of a mango-shaped birthmark on your back. " My mom swears it's from all the mangoes she craved while pregnant," you said with a laugh, remembering your childhood debates about the science behind birthmarks.

As the night wore on, your exploration became a conversation without words. You ended up curled up on one bed. You ran your fingers over the slight dip in his lower back, a lingering ache from a wrestling match between an unsub gone wrong. He skimmed his thumb across the freckle dusting your shoulder, a map of sun-drenched summer days.

There was no urgency, no pressure. Just a quiet appreciation for the way your bodies, like your minds, fit together, like puzzle pieces worn from being fitted together—entangled from experiences, both big and small. In the faint intimacy, you found a deeper connection, a comfort that transcended beyond just physical.

Suddenly, Spencer spoke, his voice soft. " Maybe your mom was right, you know."

"Right about what?" You murmured, head tilting at the man's question.

His gaze met yours, a thoughtful crease furrowing his brow. " About finding your soulmate," he said hesitantly. " There's an old Buddhist saying, I once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making."

A thoughtful hum escaped your lips. " That's beautiful, Spencer," you whispered.

He continued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Plato once wrote humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces, but Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half."

A soft blush crept up your neck. You hadn't expected such a personal turn in the conversation.

"Plato," you murmured, surprised." The one who wasn't a big fan of the soulmate idea, right?"

Spencer's lips curved into a small smile.

"True," he admitted. "But even a brilliant mind like his couldn't deny the undeniable pull we sometimes feel towards certain people. Maybe the Greeks weren't so far off . Maybe the stars, the constellations, these little imperfections on our skin... Maybe they all tell us a story of where we belong."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You found yourself captivated by the way the moonlight glinted in his eyes.

"So," you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "are you saying we're destined to be wandering halves searching for the other?"

Spencer shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "No," he said, his voice a smooth cadence. " Maybe... Maybe we already found each other."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken sentiments. The air crackled with a tension that both terrified and exhilarated you. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat to the quiet reverberation of the night. Curled beside him, Spencer's arm draped casually across you, its weight a comforting presence, you drifted off to sleep.

A faint smile touched Spencer's lips as he listened to your soft snores. "Good night," he whispered into the darkness.

[courtingchaos]

Crosstalk

Undesired signal leakage from one sound channel or track to another.

Playlist (if you wanna play along at home.)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Prompt: Eddie - I really like the idea of making him a naughty tape full of audio recordings of you playing with yourself for when he's out of town and you can't be together for a few days. But it's a surprise so you pass it off as a regular old mixtape and he doesn't suspect a thing until the first two songs end and then the real stuff starts.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Masturbation, reader tattoo mention

A/N: I have a list in my notes of prompts and I don’t remember what ask this one came from originally so apologies for that.

18+ NSFW No Minors

Eddie digs through the bag he hastily packed that morning while the phone sits tucked between his cheek and his shoulder. “What kind of surprise is it? When did you even get it in here? Is it dirty?” He gasps into the receiver. He can feel you swatting his arm even from four hours away.

“It’s nothing wild, it’s just-“

His fingers close around something almost buried to the bottom and he fishes it out, slick plastic cassette case gleaming in the low motel light. “Did you make me a mixtape?”

“I told you it wasn’t anything wild.”

He knows you’re twirling your finger through the phone cord, your chin probably tucked into your collar in mild embarrassment.

“I love it.”

“Don’t uh, don’t go playing it for the guys though.”

“Oh so it is dirty.”

“No, I just don’t want them making fun of me for putting Linda Ronstadt on there three times.”

“Three? What are you, breaking up with me via music?” Eddie teases you while he reads the insert you lovingly wrote on, little hearts in the corners beside the 10 track listing.

“No! She’s just got a way with the language of love!” You whine into the phone and Eddie laughs.

“Okay, okay. I’ll keep it all to myself. Gives me something to listen to while I fall asleep.” Behind him the shower cuts off and he knows Gareth will be out to finish his tangent on getting bullied out of his terrible pizza toppings. “You gonna be okay if I let you go?”

“I won’t cry myself to sleep if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh shut up, I know you walk that widows peak night and day awaiting my return from…Detroit.”

“I don’t waste my time like that. I know you’re up to your armpits in groupies.”

Eddie looks around the old motel room and scoffs. “If you think four nerds are pulling groupies in the kind of room we have, I have a river to sell you.”

After saying goodnight five times and you finally hanging up on him being sappy he flings himself into the bathroom after Gareth and before Jeff and Frank get back with food. Four straight hours in a car with three other men makes him want to crawl out of skin so he watches the steam roll out from the behind the shower curtain with anticipation. Almost scalding water leaves red marks over his shoulders and down his chest, enough to make him feel clean again while he rinses his hair. He can hear muffled voices from the other side of the thin bathroom door and knows he’s been relegated to the small couch in their room.

“You know, it’d be nice to get the bed once in a while.” He says when he exits the bathroom and snatches two slices from the open box on the single king bed.

“If you didn’t try to spoon all of us we would.”

“Oh what, you bothered by a little cuddling?”

Gareth glares at Eddie hard and Jeff cracks up at the deep breath he takes in. “If it was just cuddling I wouldn’t think anything of it, but you turn into the world’s only land octopus! I’ve never been so sweaty in my life! I don’t know how your girl puts up with it, you’re a fucking radiator!”

“This is why I always take the cot.” Frank singsongs from said cot while watching the local news.

The bickering continues as Eddie makes his temporary bed on the too hard, too small couch and finally ends when Jeff just shuts off the lights. “I need everyone to shut the fuck up for the next five hours okay?”

Eddie only hums and fishes around for his headphones, cassette player tucked up under the blanket with him. With the tv flashing across the walls Eddie starts to drift off to the slow beat of “Blue Bayou”, a soft chuckle for your choice of intro, and by the end of it he’s almost out when he hears your voice.

“Okay, so uhm, this is actually your final warning to stop playing this for everyone because you never listen to me so I’m trying to save us both some face you ratfink.”

His eyes snap open in the dark and he pulls the player out from under the covers like it’ll tell him what’s going on.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll listen to me this time though if I put a warning on your mixtape.”

He slaps around beside him on the floor for the case and squints at it in the flashing tv lights to see if you wrote something he missed.

“Anyways though, I do miss you and I hope your show goes well. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there but there’s never much room in those motels, huh?”

He can tell you moved around while recording, the bumping of the tape deck clacking in his ears. He’s glad it’s dark so none of the guys give him shit for the blush he knows is dusting his cheeks.

“Hell, one day soon you’ll get your own room and then I can come out and I don’t have to do sappy shit like this.”

The recording cuts and jumps to Carly Simon’s “You Belong to Me” and Eddie can’t help but laugh and feel hollow at the same time. As small as this couch is it would be nice to feel your weight on top of him, your head smushed in next to his sharing headphones that might snap from overextension. The song cuts off a few notes early to shuffling sounds and then your strained voice.

“This is really hard to do one handed, I won’t lie, but I wasn’t just gonna whisper sweet nothings to you.”

One handed? He can barely make out your breathing but he can hear the gasp alongside your light laughter.

“I don’t know if you know this, and if you don’t I’m sure I’m just inflating your ego but-“

The long sigh that follows finally jogs his tired brain and keys him into what’s happening. He whips his head to the side to see the sleeping forms of the other three before he sits up and pays closer attention.

“You have amazing hands Eddie, and it isn’t just-ohhh-it isn’t just the guitar playing you know? You know just where that spot is. I think your fingers are longer, I don’t know.”

Suddenly Bonnie Raitt is in his ear and he’s fumbling for the buttons on the side of the player to fast forward because while he appreciates your mixtape skills, now is not the fucking time. You would make him wait through three more songs before he accidentally runs into the middle of your recording, a thin moan of his name that makes him stand and head for the bathroom.

“-and I just miss you a lot and you’ve only been gone f-for what, a day by the time you get this?”

His lighter clicks in the dark while juggles the tape player and his pack of cigarettes.

“You actually just left my place. We had dinner and I told you I wouldn’t fuck you because it’s like good luck or some shit. I heard boxers do it like that.”

You have a remarkable way of running your mouth while otherwise occupied, thoughts that zip between moans and even he has a hard time keeping up. In the bathroom he cracks the small window so he doesn’t set the smoke detector off and then locks the door behind him before turning the shower on full blast. When he finally sits on the edge of the tub he expects a little more from you before Bill Withers starts singing about missing sunshine and he has to fast forward again.

“You’d think I’d be a little embarrassed to do this but actually it’s-fuck-it’s kind of easier to rec-“

Eddie sucks on his cigarette until the cherry burns bright red and his lungs start screaming, the cut off voice in his ears lending to quiet sounds of your hand working fast to make your breath jump in your chest. He thinks about you probably laying on the floor of your tiny studio, right at the foot of your bed with that big boombox next to your head set to record. That pillow that’s too big for your tiny couch, the one that got relegated to a ‘floor pillow’, stuffed behind your head while your toes catch on the edge of your green rug as you try to brace yourself.

Eddie sits on the edge of the tub and breathes in his own exhaled smoke and chews on his lip till it goes almost numb. Sits there and listens to your gasps and whimpers, the far off wet slick of your fingers moving faster.

“You’d think…I was making you…a tape to send you off to war.” Your laugh is light, forced air before it chokes off on his name and he slides down to the cold tile floor. Cigarette tossed into the tub behind his head, he’ll fish the butt out of the drain when he’s done listening to your voice.

“Barely a long weekend and-and-ah shit!”

You’ve tranced him, hardly notices the dig of the tile against his bare skin, doesn’t give a shit that this floor is dirtier than he can imagine probably. He lets his vision fuzz with the steam filling the small bathroom so he can focus on your voice and try to picture you laid out in front of him. It’s just another lazy afternoon, weed haze ringing your apartment while he watches you from across the room.

“I miss you when you’re gone. It’s only four days but I miss you Eddie.”

Sitting on that tiny couch and mesmerized by the dance of your fingers over your own skin. Nails press lightly into lines of ink to trail up your thigh and over your hip, to press into the softness of your belly. You’d hold his gaze the whole time like a dare while your other hand kneaded at your chest. When those adventuring fingers finally dip between your thighs and you sigh so light, Eddie follows suit.

Through the headphones he can hear you closer now like your lips were pressed to his ear. Heavy pants and no more words, just breathing that stutters and climbs in pitch. He wastes no romance on himself, not here in this cramped bathroom, not when he can almost feel your breath hot and damp against his neck. With every hitch of your voice he speeds his hand up, didn’t even bother pulling his shorts down all the way. In his imagination you give him a chastising smile for it before your reddened eyes roll back into your skull on a moan and he uses both hands now, just like you would.

The next song started and ended maybe but his hair clings to him in the steam and his sweat. There’s a chord change he thinks that proceeds his stomach clenching and his thighs aching before it all cuts off with your loud moan. You must have slapped at the player too late, not catching all of your agonies for him. Not everything, sure, but the important part is there. Your voice chanting low as your pleasure ebbs, his name over and over until you giggle and gasp.

Soft hands, phantom and damp with arousal and sweat cup his face when he cums, the heel of his palm shoved into his mouth to stifle the high noises trying to escape his throat. The track clicks again back to music and it isn’t until Eddie hears Peter Frampton that he starts to crash back into reality.

“If I know you like I think I do, I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes at me.” You giggle again at the end of the cassette, satiated and melancholy. “I just wanted you to have a little something, though I am sorry I buried it all in some of the best love songs ever written.”

You leave him with an I love you and another I miss you and a little bit of a mess to clean up. In twenty minutes though, when he’s back on the couch having evaded being caught and sucking down another smoke, he falls asleep and dreams about that hazy afternoon he intends to give you when he gets home.

[turtletaubwrites]

A Good Catch ~ Part 1

✨600 Followers Fic Celebration!✨

I am so grateful for all of you! This has been such a wonderful time, and having all of you around to nerd out with, and to share my writing with is the best! Shanks won the poll for the next x Reader fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4367

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, I feel like there's some romance tropes I could tag, but I usually just write smut, so please let me know what silly tropes I have in here 😅

A/N: I am having so much fun with this one! I'm doing my best to keep it to 3 parts, so wish me luck 😅 Please enjoy this fluffy first chapter!

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Now I’m gonna get murdered by pirates,” you grumbled to yourself as the ship crept ever closer. “Just fucking perfect.”

The windless sea was no challenge for the massive pirate ship. All you could do was sit with your pile of fish, jealous of the huge oars guiding the threat to you. 

Dread loomed as that jolly roger closed the distance, like an animal baring its fangs before it strikes. Crossed blades, and a sinister skull with red stripes over its left eye socket. 

You didn’t pay enough attention to the gossip and wanted posters to remember who was headed your way. 

Not that it matters. They’re pirates. 

It was too much to hope that they’d pass you by. 

A few voices carried over from the deck, until a tall man leaned over the side. His bright, red hair hung still against this stupidly windless sky. 

“Hey, friend,” he called, the sun at your back giving you a glimpse of his wide smile, even from so high above you. 

“We’re not friends,” you countered, crossing your arms to keep him from noticing your shaky hands. 

“I suppose not. You seem like you’re in a spot of trouble though, and we’re happy to help.”

His deep voice sounded so friendly. Genuine. Charming. 

He’s just trying to lure me into his trap. Who knows what they’d do to me on that ship…

“The sun’s getting pretty low for a small boat to be all the way out here,” he judged, trying to block the glare as he looked down at you. “I don’t think we’ll be getting much more wind today.”

“Thank you, I’ll be fine.”

His pause made your skin itch, wishing he would stop looking at you. 

“We can bring your boat with us. I’m assuming you’re from that village a ways to the west?”

It must have been a trick of your eyes, it couldn’t happen so quickly. But you swore the day inched closer to night faster with every second. You watched the light grow golden as it lit up the red haired man, and his pirate ship.

Fuck.

“I refuse to be rescued,” you choked out, nails digging into your arms. 

“Okay,” he said in an annoyingly teasing tone, “if you insi–”

“I’ll pay you for the service! I had a great haul before…”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed, deep and hearty. As if he were truly happy. 

You had thought pirates would seem scarier. Maybe this is worse.

You barely heard his shouts  as men started to lower ropes down, prepping to save you. 

“You should know I’m armed,” you yelled up at the back of his head, continuing when he faced you again. “Anyone touches me, and they’ll lose a hand.”

“I’ll be on my guard then. I’ve been running out of those.”

You didn’t understand, or appreciate his teasing while you waited. 

~

“Welcome aboard!”

Pirates echoed the red haired man’s welcome, and you assumed he was the captain as the rest busied themselves about. He sat on deck, calm as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Now that you were so close, you couldn’t help but notice the rippled muscles of his chest and stomach between his mostly open shirt. 

Besides the cloak over his shoulders, he didn’t seem to wear anything that could mark him as captain. Unless his red hair, and three scars over his left eye… 

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he asked, moving to stand beside you. 

“The jolly roger,” you pointed to the menacing skull. “You must be the captain.”

“Good eye,” he leaned in with a smile. 

His smile should have a completely different word. The sight from your boat was nothing compared to seeing the way this man's lips curled slowly, the left side starting first as it grew, as if he was enjoying the act of smiling itself. And his eyes…

His eyes were way too close to you. 

“Are you alright?”

Concern broke that smile, and he called for someone to bring water. 

Your face flushed, hot to the tips of your ears. You realized that you hadn’t heard what the pirate had said because you were too busy swooning over his pretty eyes. 

The water was welcome, and you gulped half of it down, suddenly embarrassed about how fucking fishy you must smell with your day’s catch beside you. 

“Is there anything else you need, miss…”

Trying to catch your eyes, the pirate leaned toward you. He reached for your shoulder, and you jumped back, spilling water down your chest.

“I’m so sorry, love. I forgot about your warning.”

His soothing voice felt real as he went to a knee in front of you. 

“I do hope you will spare me my fate, I swear that no one on this boat will forget it again.”

He’s really too charming. He’s either the sweetest person in the world, or some sort of demon with powers of seduction. 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you could truly defend yourself anyway. The fear of being at their mercy kept you hyper aware of all the moving bodies around you.

“How long until we’re at the village?”

The sun was almost gone from the sky now, and you just wanted to be home. To scrub this stupid day away, and pass out. 

“It should be about three days from now.”

“Three,” you choked out, dropping the now empty mug of water, which he caught without taking his eyes off of yours.

“We’ve got some business on the other side of the island. We'll be stopping by the village to restock supplies before we head out.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you snapped, voice louder than you meant it.

He just smirked, tilting his head.

“Sorry, love. Would you like us to toss you overboard? I don’t think you had many rescuers lined up.”

For some reason, you couldn’t get your mouth to remember that these men could kill you as you growled back at him.

“You didn’t rescue me. I paid you for a trip back to the village.”

His lips quirked as if he was fighting not to smile again. He looked down at your haul, fish still flapping in the net. 

“That is a really nice haul, miss. Afraid it’s not enough for a direct trip, though.”

Pirates came to take your fish away, and it broke the spell his irritating eyes had on you.

“Please, save this one! You can have it, just… Make sure you cook it well.”

The two men with the net followed your gesture to that fish, assuring you they would obey before taking it away.

“Why’s that one special?”

The weight of this long ass day hit you, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before you looked back at that pretty captain. 

“It was a good catch.”

He huffed a laugh, the clear amusement he got from your words making you simultaneously annoyed, and pleased. You were mentally smacking yourself for that. 

Don’t be attracted to pirates, dumbass. 

“I’m Shanks. I don’t know if you heard me before, but…”

Your skin flushed again, and he seemed to notice, a warm, evil smile slowly forming on his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know it.”

He gave a real laugh then, loud, and infectious. You had to remind yourself that he was laughing at you.

“What would you like us to call you then, huh? “Fish Girl?” Maybe “Fail Boat?” Or how about “Damsel in Distress?” I think I like that–”

You ripped your hand back as soon as you’d realized what you’d done.

But it was too late.

Your idiotic, suicidal hand had shot out and smacked him, hard, right in the center of that gorgeous chest of his.

The deck roared with laughter while you shook with horror. Shanks had looked down at his chest, and when he lifted his face to yours he looked stunned. If you hadn’t just signed your own death warrant, you might have thought his face comical, brows raised high, with his mouth and eyes wide. 

“Go easy on the girl, captain,” teased a tall man with gray hair, shaking his head at Shanks.

“Yeah, come on, captain! What kinda hospitality are you giving, insulting our guest like that?”

A whole group of pirates crowded around him, reprimanding him, and giving him a few gentle punches and shoves. 

Your mouth hung open. The sight of these pirates being so playfully disrespectful toward their captain didn’t fit in your brain. None of this made sense with what pirates were supposed to be like. 

“Fine. Fine! I’m sorry, miss…”

He’d broken away from his men, leaning toward you with that question. 

“Y/N.”

He hit you with a new grin to outshine all the others, making your breath hitch.

“What a beautiful name for a damsel in distress.”

You didn’t need to hit him this time, as pirates did the job for you, even throwing things at him from across the deck. 

Maybe it was the overwhelm, the fatigue. Maybe you’d gone insane.

But laughter built in your stomach, growing through your body, until you were shaking with it. You had your hands on your knees as it took you over, and the pirates around you joined in. 

How can pirates be laughing and smiling like this with me? How can it be genuine? 

Amidst the continued roars of his men, Shanks shook his head, gesturing for you to follow him. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

Frowning at the back of his head, you followed through the wooden halls until he opened a large door, gesturing for you to go inside.

He rolled his eyes when you hesitated, before going in first. 

The large room was tiled, with lockers and showers, and there he stood in the center, grinning like a creep.

“I’ll pass,” you deadpanned, backing out the door.

“Come on, fish girl,” he taunted, “you stink, and I think you’ll be easier to clean than the blankets you’ll sleep in tonight.”

Blood rushing to your face again, your mouth opened and closed as anger and embarrassment fought to take over.

Shanks laughed again, but tried to stifle it. 

“Sorry, you’re just,” he motioned to his lips, mimicking your movements. “You’re a fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you seethed, leaning toward him. “I’m not taking a shower on a pirate ship when anyone can–”

“I’ll guard the door for you, okay,” he assured, finally seeming to take something seriously. “I’ll make sure no one comes in.”

Now his stupid smile was soft, small, and sweet. You hated it.

“Oh right,” you scoffed, “like I'd trust a pirate captain. Who’s gonna stop you from coming in?”

“What makes you think this pirate captain would even want to come in here, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, turning to leave.

He was so fast. You jumped back as he blocked the door. He saw your wide eyes, and moved out of the doorway so he wouldn’t block your exit, but he still leaned close.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really, okay? I promise I will sit right outside this door, and not let a single person come inside until you’re done. There’s fresh clothes for you over there too. Whatever you need.”

A very fine trembling worked its way around your body as you studied him. It seemed like such a bad idea to trust him. 

But you were exhausted. 

“You’ll sit in front of the door?”

He straightened up, a look of relief brightening that serious face.

“I will.”

“Will you wear a blindfold?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he agreed with a smirk.

“And let me tie your hands behind your back?”

Shanks sucked his teeth as he leaned back. You had a second of fear as he started taking his clothes off.

But all he removed was his heavy cloak, revealing that he was missing his left arm. 

Guilt hit you, apologies about to pour out, but he held his palm out. 

“Afraid I can’t do that, but I promise I’ll do the rest. Is that alright, Y/N?”

~

This is really nice soap.

Still on edge, your body started to relax a bit with the delicious smelling soap on your skin. 

But every time you felt a moment of relaxation, you’d remember the pirate on the other side of the door. 

“You’ve gotta make it tighter, sweetie. Otherwise it won’t work.”

That fucking sentence kept tearing through your brain. The way he’d run his fingers across yours while you adjusted the cloth to blindfold him. The way his hair and skin had felt and smelled as you moved it into place. The way he’d rasped those words while he grabbed your wrist to guide you, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your skin. 

The way you had let him touch you without arguing. His fingers had taken advantage of the moment, but it had felt almost electric to let him.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.”

How did he hear that over the shower?

~

“What the hell is this?”

“Sorry, love, I'm afraid I can't see what you– ow, hold on!”

You definitely had a few red hairs between your fingers after ripping his blindfold off. 

The pirate captain got to his feet to meet your eyes, and fucking snorted.

“What is wrong with you,” you fumed, tossing the blindfold at his face.

The fact that he caught it before it hit him only pissed you off more.

“There has to be something else I can wear,” you demanded, pulling at the frilly lavender dress he stuck you with. You looked like some creepy porcelain doll.

His face was going as red as his hair as he tried not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, no one’s– we don’t have anyone your size,” he choked out, clearing his throat before continuing. “We have a few more dresses like this, though. They were supposed to be a gift for a princess, so you should feel honored!”

“Fuck you.”

His lips were fucking quivering as he fought his laughter. His eyes flicked down to your clenched fists, and he relented.

“Right, sorry, okay! You can have some of my clothes, you’ll just have to roll them up, alright?”

Very judgmentally looking him up and down, you raised your brows at him.

“Do you have any shirts that actually button up all the way? Or do you expect me to let my tits hang out like yours.”

Shanks cackled then, catching himself on the wall, his eyes even tearing up a little. 

You kicked yourself for saying something so sexual in front of a fucking pirate.

“You’re a funny one, fish girl,” he teased between hiccupped laughs, “but you definitely look like a damsel in that dress.”

You kicked the pirate for being such a dick. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he huffed, wincing as he rubbed his shin where you’d kicked it. 

“Follow me. I definitely wanna get you outta that dress– I mean into different clothes,” he almost yelled, warding off a slap with his arm. “So you stop hurting me!”

Practically boiling with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and fear, you let yourself be guided along. The lantern lit halls were roomier than you would have expected, and you could hear the distant voices of the crew. 

“Here we go,” he said gently, opening another large door. He went in first again, and you entered what had to be his quarters.

Of course. We’re getting his clothes. 

It was full of rich, dark woods, red blankets, a desk that seemed to have more bottles of alcohol than anything work related on it, and a delightful, almost spicy scent filling the air. 

The room was a bit messy, and you felt out of place standing there in that frilly dress while he dug through his wardrobe, tossing clothes to the ground as he searched.

“Here, love, how about these?”

“Do you have a belt?”

~

Managing to roll, buckle, and tuck at his clothes, you were mostly satisfied as you checked the mirror.

Even with all the buttons done up, you still had to tie his shirt to keep your chest from popping out like his does. 

“You almost finished? The party’s star…”

Those pretty eyes brightened when you opened the door. His little smirk made you frown, and he held his hand up.

“You were right, Y/N. This definitely suits you better.”

He offered that hand to you, and even in the warm glow of the lanterns, you could see scars, callouses, and thick veins that made your breath hitch for a moment. 

Your hand had almost reached his when he pulled away.

“Almost forgot,” he teased, his voice somehow lower than normal as he stepped out of the doorway for you. “I’ll lose my only hand if I touch you, right?”

“I…”

“Well, I definitely won’t risk that.”

He stepped further back, letting you follow him into the hallway. 

Your brain seemed to stutter, unable to join the moment as it flew through conflicting emotions. 

Like why it upset you that he wouldn’t risk it. 

Shanks moved in close, his spicy scent filling your lungs as you looked up at him. 

“Just let me know if that ever changes.”

He turned away after a subtle wink that made your brain short circuit. 

“You comin’? I’m hungry.”

Still barefoot without your fishy shoes, you chased that red hair down the hallway.

He really is some sort of seduction demon.

~

“Hey, girly. Is this jackass treating you alright?”

“This is how you talk about your captain?”

The older man with long, gray hair ignored Shanks’ protests as he looked you over.

“You should be more worried about him,” you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at the captain.

“Ha, I’m sure you’re right.”

He grinned down at you, before motioning toward the fire. 

“Come on, the food’s almost done.”

The crew had found a remote beach, and set up camp. Their camp supplies seemed to be mostly alcohol. 

Shanks had said they had business here, and that they’d go to the village in about three days.

What kind of business are pirates getting up to on my island?

The thought was pushed aside as Shanks called for you. Most of the pirates were holding their plates, or using boulders or crates while they ate. Captain Shanks had a dingy little table by the fire, and was waving you over. 

“Come on, love. Let’s eat, and find out why that fish of yours is so special.”

The day's events hit you again, but you joined him in a mismatched chair, and grabbed a fork. 

It smelled good.

“Here,” Shanks demanded, shoving a mug of some kind of alcohol into your hand, before standing and lifting his own to address the crew. “Here’s to our luck! We found an unlucky fisherwoman, and now we’ve got good eats. To Y/N!”

The sheer volume of their enthusiasm made your eyes go wide as you faked a sip.

“So tell me, fish girl,” he leaned toward you, the small table not leaving much space between you. “Why is this fish so special?”

Ignoring him, you focused on your plate. The way it looked and smelled was perfect, but you had to know.

He watched your movements, following along as you pierced into the flesh, bringing the first bite to your lips. 

It was perfect. Whoever had cooked it had treated it right. The tender meat and the subtle flavor were given just the amount of spice to balance it out.

It would have sold well. After all it took to get it, you were grateful that it didn’t go to waste, and tasting it yourself was wonderful.

Even if you were sharing it with a pirate.

“This is incredible, Y/N. You really are a fish girl.”

Letting out a sigh, you dug in, trying to enjoy the meal that had put you in this situation. The night was filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and endless calls for cheers, the clanging of metal mugs like the shifting heartbeat of this joyful crew.

“So, I had someone take a look at your boat, in case we could help fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my boat,” you spat out, wishing you could have enjoyed your meal in peace. Without this too fucking handsome and annoying pirate captain.

Shanks tapped his fingers on the table, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“That was the report,” he said softly, the teasing tone building slowly in his voice. “They did say that one of the oars is missing.”

“Thanks for the report,” you grumbled, watching the fire now.

“Come on, just tell me what happened. How’d you get stranded out there?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Your face felt hot, the fire not close enough for the burning in your skin. 

“Consider it payment then. For my clothes, and for my company,” he taunted, his voice dipping low. 

“I could do without the latter.”

“You wound me, sweet damsel.”

He put his hand to his heart, chuckling at your frown before chugging whatever was in his mug.

“It was a really good catch,” you mumbled, giving in. He scooted even closer to you, excitement in those lovely eyes, mixing with the light of the fire.

Shanks kept that beautiful mouth shut, just tilting his head toward yours as he waited.

“My grandma used to talk about her best catch. That was it,” you said flatly, gesturing to your empty plate. “She made me promise that if I ever caught a fish like that, I had to eat it myself, eat it with friends.”

“Don’t waste a fish like that on berry, sugar. It’s a gift.”

He raised his mug as you mimicked your grandma’s voice, and you brought yours up with a sigh, still just pretending to drink.

“I’m honored, then. Your grandma was right, that fish was amazing.”

Memories of her seemed to join you at the table, bittersweet, and heavier than you’d like. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You, uh… You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed, a hint of anger back in your voice as you fought against the prickling in your eyes.

“Well,” he drawled out, extending the word for way too long, “you still didn’t tell me how you got stranded out there with nothing but the perfect fish.”

Groaning, you put your forehead on the dingy table and blurted it out, as if you could make it not true if you said it fast enough. 

“I caught the fish. I saw what it was. It started to slip through my hands. I knew it’d sell well, so I didn’t want to lose it. I ended up tripping over one of the oars. I should have let it go, I could have grabbed the oar if I’d seen it slipping. But I was greedy. I wanted to sell that stupid fish instead of eating it, and now grandma’s probably cussing at me from the afterlife.”

Shanks at least had the decency to shove his knuckles between his teeth before he started laughing. 

“Oh, fuck you,” you huffed, standing to leave the captain’s dingy table.

“Wait, please,” he called, catching your fingers in his, and pulling you back toward him. Only to drop your hand as if he’d been burned when you met his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean–”

Whatever you might have said was lost in a wave of too many things at once. Humiliation over the whole thing, fear that these pirates could still hurt you, especially if you fell asleep, and the burning in your stupid cheeks because this gorgeous asshole held your hand. 

What the fuck is wrong with me today?

The moon was mostly full, so there was plenty of light on the sand as you walked away from the camp. They were so fucking noisy, but the ocean beckoned for you to sit, gentle waves like your grandmother’s sweet voice. 

When she wasn’t giving me shit, you thought with a laugh, digging your toes in the sand. 

“The ocean makes me feel better too.”

His deep voice annoyed you more than it startled you. 

Shanks sat beside you, but not too close.

Ignoring him did not make him go away. 

“What do you want?”

“I wanna make your shitty day better. How can I do that?”

“Take me home.”

“Three days on that one, love. Anything more immediate?”

Your plan to stay up all night was already failing, exhaustion dragging you down.

His eyes were so soft under the moon, the hint of a smile brightening his face.

“I don’t want to sleep out in the open with everyone. Is there somewhere… safe where I can sleep?”

Shanks nodded, looking down as he cleared his throat. 

“Of course, let me take you now.”

The ship itself seemed to be sleeping, so quiet with only a handful of crew watching it as the rest camped on the island. 

Red hair under lantern light guided you through those wood paneled halls again, until he led you to the guest quarters. 

“Here’s the key, and you’re welcome to shove this chair under the door knob as well. Breakfast will be at the beach in the morning,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll probably be the afternoon depending on the hangovers, but you– Are you alright?”

He knelt at your feet, looking you over as you slumped onto the bed.

“How long were you out there today? Have you been drinking water? Are you…”

This charming pirate stopped himself from touching your forehead, and some insane, fatigued part of you reached out, grabbing his hand with both of yours. 

“I lied,” you confessed, voice quiet and close, his pretty eyes on your lips. “I can’t cut your hand off. I’m not armed.”

The slow smile he gave you now was your favorite, somehow making the light in his eyes shine brighter. Your hands reluctantly let go of him as he shifted, but instead of moving away, Shanks touched his calloused fingers to your cheek. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I am obsessed with these two now. What the heck. I need Shanks to make fun of me like that 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[gremlins-hotel]

From the notes of Capt. Alfred Jones: "Davie was a bus and the 'Flying Fortress' moniker seemed to pass her by, but it was a ship with a brave crew. The trudge of getting back to England from enemy territory is a story for another day. I miss her and sometimes I miss the boys we lost that day."

-✪- -✪- -✪-

B-17F "Dear Davie": *U.S. Army Model B-17F-65-BO Air Corps Serial No. 42-29670 Delivered Cheyenne 31/1/43; Pueblo 18/2/43; Salina 15/2/43; Brookley 19/3/43; Smoky Hill 23/3/43; Dow Field 18/4/43. Assigned to the 333rd Bomb Squadron/94th Bomb Group [TS-L] "DEAR DAVIE" 22/4/43; Missing in Action near Hamburg 25/7/43 with Alfred "Comet" Jones, **Co-Pilot: Daryl "Speed" Reed, Navigator: Richard Reed, Bombardier: Charlie Marstaller; Radio Operator: Johnathan Graves, Flight Engineer/Top Turret Gunner: Clyde "Pepsi" Ray, Ball Turret Gunner: William Ortlieb, Waist Gunner: Leslie Lipsey, Waist Gunner: Paul Rapoport, Tail Gunner: Thomas Pugh (6 Killed in Action); "DEAR DAVIE" lost to flak/anti-aircraft fire, crashing near Uetersen, 15 miles NW of Hamburg, Germany.

-✪- -✪- -✪-

[nerd things & acknowledgements below cut]

Notes on the B-17F... The B-17F was an upgrade of the previous E model, with several notable changes: A one- or two-piece plexiglas nose cone, as opposed to the ten-paneled cone of previous versions. Reinforced landing gear allowed for a greater maximum payload, from 4,200 lb (1,900 kg) of ordnance to 8,000 lb (3,600 kg). Flight and combat range of the F model was improved by 900 mi (1,400 km) with the addition of nine self-sealing rubber fuel cells in the wing root, aka, "Tokyo tanks". The F model was generally characterized by being tail-heavy - which lead to part failure - and woefully undefended from the front; the early F models had no front-facing armament, leaving a 60° blind spot to the direct front of the aircraft - a flaw which was exploited by German pilots, who held air superiority. Later F models would see a list of possible available modifications (factory and field) such as inserting two .50 caliber machine guns into the nose cone to solve the blind spot. Other modifications to later F models were bulged cheek turrets, as opposed to the window-mounted guns of earlier iterations, and the available addition of the iconic "Bendix" chin turret. The chin turret is far more common on the subsequent G "gunship" variant. ("Dear Davie" is an early F model without the nose mount, bulged cheeks, or chin turret.)

*This model production block, serial no., and fate are borrowed from real-life B-17F #42-29670, "Thundermug." "Thundermug" was an aircraft that originally served in the 333rd Bomb Squadron/94th Bomb Group alongside my great-grandfather and his usual steed, "The Gremlins Hotel." It was transferred to the 544th BS/384th BG, at which point it went Missing in Action over Hamburg from flak/aa-fire; 8 of its crew became POWs while 2 were KIA. I have had the honor to speak to descendants of both of its crews and help them research "Thundermug"; I wish to voice a mere glimpse of their stories in a unique way.

**All names of Alfred's crew are either cobbled-together family names throughout our history here or entirely fictitious - though some were inspired by real people whom I grew up with stories of. All inspirations were individuals that lived good lives post-war.

[cera-writes]

Hello! You’re friendly neighbourhood request stalker here, just having another little moment of self inserted love.

Gambit strikes me as someone who would be an absolute nerd. I see him as a secret Star Wars fan or Trekkie. Reader is a mutant who lives in the mansion - maybe a teacher rather than an X-Man? Halloween rolls around, big mansion party and of course reader is big into costumes and cosplay.

Everyone has to dress up and no-one tells anyone about their costume until the big reveal at the party.

She does the Leia. /That/ Princess Leia. And he just spends the whole night with an uncomfortable nerd boner, torn between talking excitedly about the movies and just being his usual flirty lusty self? Maybe even a flustered fanboy? NSFW or SFW, I’ll leave that to you.

I’m gonna go sit in the corner and squee to myself.

A/N: yes yes yes!! I was listening to this song while writing this and I wanna imagine it playing it in the background of the party... 🤣 Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x F!Reader Tags: fluff, sweet sexy fluff, making out, sexual innuendos, teasing, flirting, reader gives Remy a constant boner

"Then show me, Scoundrel."

The X-Mansion buzzed with an energy that rivalled Danger Room training. Tonight wasn't about honing mutant abilities, it was about unleashing inner demons – the good kind, fueled by fruity cocktails and booming music. Professor Xavier had thrown a rare costume party, and the place was a kaleidoscope of capes, masks, and questionable fashion choices.

You, however, were channelling a very specific kind of fantasy. Standing by the punch bowl, you were the epitome of Rebel Princess badassery. You'd raided Storm's wardrobe for a flowing white drape, leaving enough strategically placed gaps to make even the stoic Ororo blush. The pièce de résistance, though, was a leather belt Professor X had unearthed from a forgotten box of "mutant memorabilia." It did wonders for accentuating your curves. You'd even fashioned your hair into a pair of space buns, completing the look.

You were scanning the room, feeling a thrill at the envious stares from Rogue and the appreciative nods from Beast, when a familiar drawl sliced through the music.

"Well, well, well. Looks like someone wandered straight outta Jabba's Palace."

Remy Lebeau, ever the charmer, stood before you, his trademark grin plastered across his face. He was a dead ringer for Indiana Jones, complete with a Traveller hat and a leather jacket that wouldn't look out of place on one of the members of his former Thief Guild.

"Just call me Princess," you countered, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Up close, his eyes sparkled with an amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. Remy was, in fact, all hot and bothered at the mere sight of you. He was fangirling so hard, flustered by the sight of you wearing that costume.

"Princess, huh? Think you can handle a scoundrel like me?" His voice was a low rumble, sending another delicious jolt through you.

You leaned in, close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath on his ear. "Try me, Gambit."

The way his name rolled off your tongue, laced with a deliberate challenge, had a visible effect on him. A flicker of heat replaced the amusement in his eyes.

"Careful, cher," he murmured, his voice husky. "You might jus' get more than you bargained for."

The music shifted to a slow, seductive melody. Remy held out a hand, the invitation clear. A mischievous grin spread across your face as you bit your bottom lip. "Take the lead, scoundrel."

He took your hand, the touch sending a spark igniting between you. As you glided onto the makeshift dance floor, you couldn't help but brush your hand against his chest, the worn leather cool against your skin. He inhaled sharply, the movement pulling the fabric of his jacket taut across his impressive physique.

You danced with him, slow and close, the playful banter escalating with each stolen glance, each lingering touch. He twirled you, the white drape billowing around you like a cloud, and for a moment, you could almost believe you were dancing with Han Solo under a Tatooine sunset.

When the song ended, Remy leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. "Let's get outta here, Princess. I know a place with a much better view of the stars."

A shiver snaked down your spine at his suggestion, a delicious mix of excitement and apprehension. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. Remy's hand slipped around your waist, his touch sending a jolt through you that had nothing to do with his mutant power.

He led you away from the mansion, the party lights fading behind you like dying stars. The silence was thick with unspoken desire, broken only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet. He stopped suddenly, pulling you against a large oak tree, the moonlight filtering through the leaves casting an ethereal glow on his face.

His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now smoldering with a different kind of intensity. A single gloved finger grazed your cheek, sending shivers down your exposed skin. "You know, cher," he murmured, his voice a low caress, "this princess needs a little less…" he trailed off, his hand gliding down your arm, lingering on the exposed sliver of skin above your elbow. His eyes followed the traces of his fingers dancing along your skin, causing goosebumps to form as you bit back a whimper.

Your breath hitched as he slowly unfastened the clasp on the leather belt Professor X had unearthed. It felt symbolic, a shedding of inhibitions, a slow reveal that mirrored the growing tension between you. The white fabric parted further, revealing a hint of smooth skin and the enticing curve of your hip.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear. "And a scoundrel," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, "needs a little more…" his breath tickled your earlobe as he trailed a finger down the exposed skin of your back, sending a jolt straight to your core. He had you practically squirming.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Then show me, scoundrel," you breathed, your voice laced with lust and a newfound confidence. The playful banter had morphed into something far more primal, a delicious urgency hanging in the air.

Remy chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated through you. He captured your lips in a kiss, a slow burn that quickly escalated into a heated exploration. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he explored the exposed skin of your arms and back. You responded in kind, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest, relishing the feeling of his worn leather jacket beneath your fingertips. He hitched one of your legs up, pinning you against the tree and him.

The kiss became a desperate battle for dominance, a delicious push and pull that left you breathless. He finally pulled away, his eyes half lidded, a red glow in the moonlight.

The crimson glow in his eyes sent a tremor straight down to your core, a primal counterpoint to the heat that had already taken root in your belly. His touch, a slow, deliberate graze against your exposed skin, was pure, unadulterated fire. The playful princess facade had melted away, replaced by a woman yearning for something raw, something untamed.

"Patience, cher," he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky rasp as he thumbed your bottom lip. The restraint in his tone was a delicious torture, a dam holding back a flood of desire. He trailed a finger down the exposed skin of your neck, sending goosebumps erupting in their wake.

"This night isn't over yet. We can take it slow under the disco ball, or..." He paused, his eyes flickering with a devilish glint, "we can rewrite this lil' fairytale of ours under the moonlight, with a little less fabric and a lot more…" He didn't need to finish the sentence.

The suggestive leer in his eyes spoke volumes.

A/N: Lemme know if ya'll want a part two to this! I really enjoyed writing this one! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[ukeshik]

Nerd eren who is in love with you, but hides it, and he is also in a long puberty...

TW: 18+ content, a lot of jack off, cumshot, Dirty fantasies And you, who don't suspect anything.

Nerd eren who sits with you in class every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday and just tries not to look in your direction once again, because he starts blushing because of how nice you are to him.

Nerd eren whose voice trembles every time you turn to him, asking for a pen that you forgot at home.

Nerd eren who can't look at you without a slow-growing boner in his pants when you try to start a nice conversation with him. After all, you sit at the same desk with him almost every day, and this strange boy is afraid to talk to you. And you're just trying to be nice and make friends with him.

Nerd eren who runs to the bathroom from the classroom when he realizes that he can't stop staring at your damn tits that are looking right at him. Every time he curses you for loving cut-out blouses that don't hide your gorgeous breasts and inserts a cleavage between them for everyone to see.

Nerd eren who tells Mikasa at every break after sharing classes with you that he hates you. But for what, he doesn't say.

Nerd eren who planted a Valentine's Day card in your locker, and just sat silent when you showed this Valentine to him in class, asking if he knew whose handwriting it might be, because, of course, it was not signed.

Nerd eren who is already tired of jerking off almost every day at you, imagining you in his mind, opening your Instagram photo where you are leaning forward and winking coquettishly at the camera. And your boobs are almost falling out of that damn sweater.

Nerd eren who imagines cumming on your face and chest, as you sit on your knees in front of him in some cute white or light pink underwear, before licking the head of his cock, looking straight into his eyes with your Bambi eyes.

Nerd eren who is afraid of you when you greet him in the hallway if you happen to meet outside of class.

Nerd eren who would like to ask you out, chat with you, hold your hands and hug you, but he is too embarrassed about you and afraid of rejection, and also afraid of you and your sweet friendly aura, because he thinks that you are so cute with everyone besides him.

Nerd eren who almost screamed and ran away from you when you asked him to help you figure out a topic that you missed because of your illness. Thank God you offered to work out just by calling FaceTime, because he couldn't stand a personal meeting.

Nerd eren who was a tough nut to crack at the beginning of the call and was even able to chat with you, but as soon as you turned on the camera and appeared in front of him in this homely look, with a bun on your head, soft pajamas and no makeup, all his composure disappeared in a flash.

Nerd eren who didn’t turn on the camera during the call, referring to the fact that his room was very dirty, although his room was almost always in order thanks to his mother who was always banging him.

Nerd eren who turned off the microphone during the call and already reached inside his house pants and grabbed his cock, closing his eyes and listening to your ringing voice while you were telling some story unrelated to the topic of the lesson.

Nerd eren who cum into his hand in just a few minutes, quickly running his hand along the entire length, with difficulty periodically answering you into the microphone in a heavy voice so that you would not think that he was left.

"Eren, are you here? Eren? I can't hear you."

"Yes... I'm here. It's just... headache. Ah..."

[lomlhwa]

you're such a nerd (j.ww)

pairing: tutor!wonwoo x student!reader

preview: you really need to pass biology so you asked your teacher to hook you up with a tutor. now, he didn't expect you to literally hook up with your tutor. how could you not? he looks so cute in his glasses.

tags/warnings: fem reader, some biology terms, reader is kinda obsessed with wonu's glasses, voice kink on the reader's part, praise, pet names (baby, baby girl, baby cakes, good girl) academic rewarding, light choking, like one spank, semi-public sex, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), m & f orgasm

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.4k

song recs for this fic: light a flame by seventeen, kiss me if you can by the boyz, die for you by the weeknd

a/n: can you tell i have a thing for men in glasses? you'll be able to tell as soon as you start reading this fic. also every time i wrote about those roll-y chairs my brain went "AUTOBOTS, ROLL OUT"

then….

“mr. kim i really need to pass your class. are there any students you could hook me up with to tutor me?” you gave your professor your very best puppy dog eyes.

you’re borderline failing this man’s class. a class you need to pass to get your degree. a class you willingly signed up for and you pay money for.

“yeah there is. wait here” he walks away into his office. you hear him pick up his landline phone and dial a number. you take a seat on one of the stools at the counter. 

“he’s on his way. we’ll wait for him.”

about 15 minutes pass before a tall, nerdy looking boy bursts through the door. he almost tumbles over, the handful of books in his hands almost toppling out. he’s adorable. but the cutest thing about him is his circle glasses that he’s pressed back up his nose at least three times already. 

“you said you want me to tutor a student, mr. kim?” he sounds out of breath. did he run all the way here from his dorm? “yes. this is y/n. she’s failing this class and wants some help” your teacher turns to you. “y/n, this is your tutor.” your new tutor waves at you.

“hi, i’m wonwoo. jeon wonwoo.” 

god, his voice. you’re gonna love being his student.

now….

“wonwoo, i don’t get this” you hold up your worksheet to your tutor. over the past couple weeks, you could say you’ve grown close with him. quite close.

“okay, put your listening ears on baby cakes” he rolls his chair over to you. his unhooks his glasses from the collar of his shirt, sliding them up his beautiful nose. 

“so, a chromosomal mutation is a mutation involving a long segment of dna. these mutations can involve deletions, insertions, inversions, or translocations of sections or segments of dna” you nod, trying your best to pay attention. “...and in some cases, deleted portions may attach to other chromosomes, disrupting both the chromosomes losing the dna and the one gaining it.” you nod again, the movement being so mindless.

“you won’t pass bio if you keep zoning out like that. i just explained chromosomal mutation and you weren’t listening. that was your one shot, baby girl” he flicks you lightly on the forehead before rolling away again. 

“no no no, one more time wonwoo” you roll yourself over to him and pull him back to your desk. he rolls his eyes and playfully tries to pull himself away from you. “i already explained it to you though” you manage to pull him back and he pouts. 

“one last time” you push your worksheet towards him. “explain it differently this time. like a chromosomal mutation remix” you giggle. 

“ugh okay so, chromosomal mutations can result from errors in dna replication during cell division, exposure to mutagens or a viral infection” you nod, actually listening this time. watching his plump lips move helped you really listen in. “...and chromosome abnormalities often happen due to errors during dividing of sex cells, meiosis or errors during dividing of other cells, mitosis.” 

“okay, now do your worksheet” he slides it back over to you. you expect him to roll away from you, but he doesn’t. he hovers next to you, inspecting your answers. you don’t notice at first, but his hand slowly trails up your thigh.

when you finally realize, it’s because it slides all the way back down to your knee. you erase your previously written answer and try something else. it must’ve been right because his hand moved up again. you figured out his system. 

wrong answer? hand back down at the knee. right answer? hand moves up and under your tennis skirt. 

you finally get to the last question; a question about the cause of chromosome abnormalities. unfortunately, you’re blanking at what wonwoo told you. his hand had fully come up to your core and he had been playing with your clit over your panties for the past 10 minutes. your brain was becoming hazy. 

“i taught you this less than an hour ago, baby girl. if you get this right, i’ll let you cum. come on, it’s the last question” your breathing hitched and you nod. you focus in and try and remember the answer. you write down your answer and wonwoo pounces on you. 

he mashes your lips together in a rough, sloppy kiss. he licks over your bottom lip and you open your mouth instinctively. a loud whine leaves your throat as his hand keeps it’s ministrations going.

“cum for me baby. you did so well” his mouth leaves yours and trails wet kisses all over your throat. he breathes heaving in your ear, his other hand coming up to push his glasses up.

“please, ah, please keep talking” you whine, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. “i need your voice.” he smirks at you. he knew his voice was nice. but the fact that it’s helping you get off? that was amazing to him.

“come on, baby girl. you deserve it. you’re doing so well for me. my good, sweet girl”  the mix of his heavy breathing, his sweaty musk and his words sends you over the edge. your hand flies down to his wrist to slow him down. “there you go, that’s it. that’s my good girl.” 

you lean your head back on the chair, catching your breath. he picks you up out of your chair, flipping you around and bending you over. the coldness of the desk on your arms shocks you and you jolt a little. 

“god, baby. you look so pretty in your little skirt” he says as he flips it up. he takes his glasses off and places them on the table. “no no no, please, keep them on. you look so good with them on” you beg. “you can’t even see me” he laughs. you hand them back to him, turning at the waist to glance at him. “just do it.”

he slides his glasses back up his nose and sighs. he pulls your panties down to your mid-thighs. he pulls his pants down the same length on his own legs. “i would really like to have you screaming my name, but we are kind of in public. i’m gonna need you to be quiet.” 

out of nowhere, he plants a hard spank on your now exposed ass. you squeal, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. “knew you’d like that, baby” he teases. he palms his length and teases your hole with his tip. 

he rests his hands on your hips as he pushes into you, his pelvis meeting with your ass. he lets out a deep breath, one of his hands falling on the desk next to your ribs. “fuck, my god baby girl” his voice is low and it makes you clench tightly around him. 

he drags out of you slowly before slamming back into you, your ass jiggling at the contact. your arms weaken almost instantly, laying down onto the table. wonwoo reaches around you and rips open your button-up shirt, the buttons popping off and scattering all over the floor. 

“wonwoo!” you cry out. “sorry, baby. i got impatient” he digs his fingers into your hips and sets a steady pace. his fingers are sure to leave marks on your skin. marks you’ll be admiring for days in the mirror. 

he presses your head into the desk. your mouth hangs open, drool pooling next to your face. your eyes roll into the back of your head repeatedly. 

“what can chromosomal mutations involve?” he says suddenly. “what?” you pant. “what can chromosomal mutations involve? give me the right answer and i’ll let you cum” he attaches the pad of his pointer finger to your clit, speeding up your oncoming orgasm. “oh my god uh” you pause to rack your brain for the answer. 

as your orgasm threatens to crash down on you, you blurt out the answer. “mutations can involve deletions, insertions, inversions, or translocations of sections or segments of dna” you cry out, your orgasm causing you to twitch on the table. “fuck fuck fuck, good girl” he pulls out of you, letting his orgasm spill onto your skirt. 

you pick your head up off the table and wipe the drool off the side of your face. “y’know, when you asked mr. kim to hook you up with a tutor, he didn’t mean for you to hook up with your tutor” he pulls your panties back up your legs and flips your skirt back down. 

“you got the last question wrong by the way” he nods towards your paper. “but by then, i couldn’t keep it in my pants” he kisses your drooly lips, smiling at you. “what the fuck, wonwoo.”

“sorry, baby cakes. do it again and maybe we’ll go for round two.” 

© lomlhwa 2023

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 3

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: strong angst, losing a relationship, minor swearing (?)

pt. 1 and pt. 2

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you like <3.

________________________________________

“How are you doing these days?”

The question catches Amberly off guard from where she’s sitting cross-legged on a clean (grease- and oil-stained) sheet on Sirius’ spotless (covered in nuts, bolts, and some parts she couldn’t even recognize) garage floor. She blinks, curling her bandaged fingers tighter together in her jacket pocket. “I’m good. Pretty tired, these days. I think seasonal depression is getting to me.” She forces a laugh. 

Sirius tilts his head at her. “You love fall, though. You were always that one fucking nerd who prayed for school to re-open every year.” He pitches his voice higher, reaching into the cardboard box of cookies. “Oh, look at me- I’m Amberly, and all the professors wish they could adopt meeeee!”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’re not in school anymore though, Pads.”

“Be a man and go talk to her!”

“Shut up, she’s gonna hear,” hissed Remus, glancing covertly around the corner of the bookshelves. The quiet Ravenclaw had returned to her peaceful study alcove, big brown eyes flicking back and forth over the pages of her book as she scribbled notes on parchment. “D’you think I even have a chance? Like, really?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “All I know is that I’m really fucking tired of hearing you rave about how beautiful her eyes are, or how insanely smart she is, or blah blah blah. Go do something about it, Moony, or I’ll fake a note from you!”

“You wouldn’t”-

Amberly looked up. She could just see the flicker of red as the two Gryffindors ducked back behind the shelves. Narrowing her eyes, she gave the shelf a final glare and returned to her work.

She didn’t know that two days later, Remus would ask her out. To visit Hogsmeade and ask for her help finding the right Potions book for next year, ostensibly since she was top of the class. Or that he would ask her to go skating the next week.

Or that he would be her first kiss under the mistletoe in the Gryffindor common room, as Sirius tossed eggnog over them and James showered them with glitter from the Christmas decorations. Or that they’d continue dating, all through the end of their four years there, or that she would fall so head-over-heels in love with him that she’d still yet to hit the ground.

She wouldn’t know that it would lead to this, either.

How could she?

“Are you okay?”

Sirius’ words seem to be coming from far, far away. Amberly shakes her head, bringing herself back to earth. Her throat constricts painfully and something hot drips on the backs of her hands. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. 

“I- I’m fine,” she manages to stutter, smearing at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Just been a long week, that’s all.”

Sirius puts an arm around her, concern coloring his tone. “Are you sure?”

But now Amberly is remembering the cold, dismissive tone in Remus’ voice, the glare he’d given her as he called her clingy, those eyes that she’d once loved beyond all measure filled with nothing but annoyance and scorn. 

She breaks down in tears right there on Sirius’ garage floor. 

Sirius, to give him credit, doesn’t try to ask what’s wrong. Doesn’t ask for information or press for answers, just lets her cry all over his leather jacket as he holds her shoulders. He pats her hair soothingly. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s really okay.”

“It’s not,” she gasps, clawing her hair back from her eyes. “This is all my fault. All of this- if I hadn’t been too much, if I hadn’t tried too hard- nothing I can do is right and I don’t know how to fix it”-

The Gryffindor’s eyes narrow. “Is this about Remus?”

Amberly takes a beat to answer, too busy hunting through her bag for a handkerchief. “It’s nothing. Nothing, really. Just a long day, a bad day.” She’s aware that she’s babbling, trying and failing to draw a deep breath, but she can’t seem to stop. “I- I think I’ll head back now.”

“You are not going anywhere,” retorts Sirius, passing her an extremely filthy rag. “Blow your nose- this jacket is designer leather, you know.”

She glares at him, eyes red, and he grins. “Okay, sorry. But come inside. You shouldn’t be going anywhere like this. It’s fucking cold out- did Moony not drive you?”

“He’s not feeling well,” mumbles Amberly. Another excuse, the same easy lies coming to her lips to disguise what she didn’t want anyone to know. Because Remus was fine, right? They were fine. It was all okay.

Sirius shakes his head, unimpressed. “You were an awful liar in school and you’re an awful liar now.”

Sirius’ flat is surprisingly warm and clean, probably thanks to Lily. Amberly still remembers the way the redhead had marched in, taken one look at the sink full of dishes and the grubby windows, and directed her scathing gaze towards a blissfully unaware Padfoot. Lily had helped her set up their house too, hadn’t she? It was hard to remember now; the couch was soft, and so was the afghan Sirius had tossed over her legs. Something smelled nice, too; was that sandalwood?

Sirius appears in the doorway a minute later with two red mugs of cocoa. His eyes soften when he sees Amberly curled into a ball in the corner of the couch, and he sets the cups down softly so as not to wake her. 

He thinks of how excited Moony had been when they began dating, over the moon with happiness. Of how the pair had held hands in the hallways, blue and red robes overlapping, of how Moony’s bad days had seemed to vanish before Amberly’s gentle eyes and soft hands. Of how Amberly had somehow been added to their mismatched family, her quiet presence the perfect counterpart to him and James. Of how Moony had looked at her when they first moved into their house, as if she was the stars and moon and sky all wrapped into one person who loved him to heartbreak.

And his lips tighten. 

He needs to have a word with Moony.

[crowcat-writes]

hi!! hello!! how are you today? hope you're good cause I'm here with a request! can you write kito x reader themed with the song Highway 1009 by enhypen?

like akito and reader are on a road trip together and they're just being sappy the whole time?

thank u and have a great day! :D

Never listened to that one, but I’d like to think I have plenty of experience with road trips so I can do you well!!

ok so it kinda turned into polysquad with an akito focus x reader. Sorry.

POLYSQUAD NICKNAME GUIDE:

maestro - Toya

marigold - Akito

mouse - Kohane

melody - An

muse - you, Y/N, your self insert, you get the idea

(They are all starting with M. I don’t know why in particular.)

Road trip with those I love

You stuck your head out of the window, enjoying the roads rolling past you and the almost-sweet smell of the air… you’d always liked the more rural parts of Japan. Akito hummed along to the CD you’d put in at the start of the drive, it had looped a few times by now but he didn’t mind.

You two didn’t talk much, only occasionally pointing things out to each other… like the bakery near the exit that he wanted to try or the fields of sunflowers that you wanted to run free in. You two could do those things on the way back, if you ended up on the same road- you’ve got a destination you need to get to. A music festival with a competition for rising street-style singers… and of course Vivid Bad Squad wanted in. So, the two of you got to adventure your way there, rendevouzing with the other group members when night falls and you need to find a hotel, or when they want to go do something together. The two of you got some alone time during it all, but you did have to admit sometimes you wish you all took the same car. Both because you could tease Akito without the risk of him crashing the car and because you could share some calmer moments with him and the rest of VBS.

“Hey, you hungry? Kohane’s stopping to get soba with An and Toya.” You tap his shoulder, and he softly smiles at you.

“Yeah, sounds nice. You think Toya would mind riding with us and taking over driving for a bit?” He hums, following Kohane’s car to the soba resturant- a small joint, nothing much. You hop out of the car much faster than him-

“Hey, wait for me, dork! You can’t just abandon your partner-“ He’s going red… you pivot from heading to meet up with An and instead bolt over to Akito, hugging him as tight as you physically can.

“There we go, you are henceforth unabandoned!” You giggle, and he sighs warmly.

“I wonder how you can just use the word henceforth like it’s normal… this is what I get for choosing a nerd, huh?” He brushes his head against yours, before breaking away to talk with Toya and the others.

You eat lunch together, and you and Akito manage to convince Toya to drive you two for this leg (at the price of various coffee hard candies and various kisses). As he starts up the car, Akito worms his arms around your waist and leans his head on your shoulder.

“How is the seatbelt not digging into your neck and killing you.” You’re just honest and blunt as per usual, not acknowledging the affection verbally though you do raise a hand up to ruffle his hair.

“Shh, don’t care.” He nuzzles in and as you get moving again you can feel him slowly drift off to sleep. You talk with Toya, quietly so as not to disturb your partner, until the warm coziness of a rumbling car and arms around you and your favorite maestro’s humming mixed with the soft breaths of your marigold’s slumber lull you to sleep. You wonder how An and Kohane are doing… you hope your mouse and melody are driving safe.

You wake up to Kohane’s giggling and the sound of a camera flashing… Akito is still dead asleep, the car’s parked somewhere and it seems Toya met up with Kohane and An again. While you slowly shake the sleepy fog from your eyes, An wakes Akito up via a kiss on the lips sleeping beauty style… and then when that doesn’t work on him a light smack on the forehead.

“Huh? Whuh? Where…” His voice is all sleep-raspy…

“We’re gonna check out the venue. You’re coming with, it’s important to scope out where we’ll be performing.” While An speaks, you get up, stretching out your stiff muscles.

“And also leg stretch before the hotel. We’ve been driving for hours, we need to stretch.” Kohane’s voice is extra sweet today, you flush a little at the sound of her.

You nod, Akito joining the group outside, as you giggle and race each other to the stage.

(1/?)

Author’s notes:

THIS WAS REALLY FUN TO WRITE I DOUBT I GOT ALL THE CHARACTERIZATION CORRECT BUT THAT DOESN’T MATTER !!!

might make a continuation if support is shown/i get ideas <3

Might be a touch hard to read, I wrote most of this late at night, apologies for that!!

If you’ve read through all of this, I love ya, stay hydrated and safe, make sure you get sleep

[athena5898]

Given the nature of my blog at this point, i tend to shy away from posting about media stuff. Buuuuut I think there are a lot of younger people experience this slightly "political" dude bro phenomenon so I kind of want to walk them through it. So Dawntrail the most recent ff14 expansion. Is actually pretty good. Now if you listen to some aspect of the community you are going to get some other........."perspectives" on that. Dawntrail is flawed, of course it is. This is the expansion that would have been in development during mid to post 2020 AND it's the expansion that needed to come around after Enwalker to build up the new story. Endwalker that spent YEARS building up to a climatic finish. What does this have to do with the first paragraph? Well, I'll tell you.

Dawntrail focuses on the story of a coming of age of a nontraditionally feminine woman lead Wuk Lamat (who is voiced by a trans voice actor) and we, the heroes of the world, are now going to help and take a back seat to this person. Who she and the entire expansion is based on Indigenous people from various parts of "America" so you know, they should be front a center and our out-of-town asses *should* take a seat in the back (some of you will read this and immediately go "oh that's why it's getting extra hate") If you do not know and was lucky enough to not be a woman or non cis het white male in the 90s trying to play video games or enjoy nerd culture....All of what I just stated is a big problem. Dude bros as I like to call them, (aka someone who you will always be curious if they were or would be part of Gamer Gate. Also please note a dude bro doesn't have to be a man...trust me on that) hate this kind of shit. They naturally feel threatened when the media's focus is not about them. So what do they do? They take legitimate criticism of something and BLOW IT THE FUCK UP. Suddenly that thing that was kinda annoying, is now just the fucking worst. A story beat drags on a little long? Worst media ever. A character has a minor plot hole? Worst media ever. dialogue a little blah at one point? Worst media ever. etc etc etc These are the same kinda people mind you who will write a 8 page essay how (insert average mid action movie here) is the most amazing masterpiece of a film. (which I don't really care about, but it shows that these people are not exactly the most objective purveyors of media arts as they like to claim to be when it's suddenly about their misogyny and white supremacy) I'm bringing this up cause I'll notice some well meaning people being confused saving things "well...I kinda get *this* part of the criticism but...not this other stuff. Why is it a big deal" or some version of this. They don't actually care that much, they just care that an Indegenous GNC cat woman is getting more screen time then their precious gods gift to Eorza WoL. If they had made this expansion about a white guy or our WoL and it wouldn't of gotten nearly the same level of backlash. People will disagree with me, but I'm sorry this is just a fact. And because this is the reading comprehension website, no it's not bad to dislike Dawntrail. No it isn't bad to think a character is annoying. But the patterns are there and the chances of this JUST being about the real issues is just fucking zero. You dont' spend that much time complaining about ONE character as the focus if it isn't about the bullshit dude bro gamer pride. Honestly given how fucking gay this game is I have no idea how these people play this game without burning up like a vampire touching sunlight ALSO...I'm a ex wow player who played that game for the story (I was 14, give me a break) from BC all the way up to 7.2. So I kinda know what i'm talking about when it comes to toxic dipshit gamer behavior *looks back at that last paragraph* god that's so fucking sad. Oh fun fact, according to Wuk Lamat's voice actor Sena Bryer, all voice acting for the new area in Dawntrail was given to Latino/Indigenous voice actors for every single character. (from this area of course) *edit* lol yeah anyone saying i'm wrong is just a fucking grifter or liar. Found this while looking something else up. You know it's bad when the god damn director has to step in and say "yo you little assholes cut it out" https://www.pcgamesn.com/final-fantasy-xiv-a-realm-reborn/naoki-yoshida-wuk-lamat

[moonlight-prose]

WADE'S WORLD

LET'S DISCUSS

a/n: *hands the mic to wade* take it away dipshit. divider by the beautiful @saradika-graphics.

The squeak of the leather couch is what makes him smile.

"No don't write that."

Audible backspacing.

"Hello thots and whores (respectfully). It's your old pal Wade W. Wilson here to remind you: always wrap it before you tap it. Seriously the amount of condomless dicks on this website is ridiculous. And that's coming from a man who can only get it on to the sounds of chinchillas-"

*insert information you probably don't need to fucking know here.*

"Right. Off topic."

He shifts with another squeak, his hands clasped in his lap like a nerd on the first day of orientation-

"Now that's just rude."

His suit is leather, the couch is leather, and both don't make for a combination of fun. In all honesty this a waste of time, but he insisted on having a voice.

"I'm the one speaking here thank you. And not a combination of fun? Tell that to Hugh Jackman in Van Helsing. That movie is a leather pandemonium. I'm surprised he didn't get chafing on his penis."

He sighs...dreamily.

"But who can deny a long haired werewolf when he barks for you? I sure can't. And neither could Kate Beckinsale-"

Middle finger. Middle finger. Middle finger. Middle fing-

"RIGHT! Back to our regularly scheduled program of moans and groans. As you all have probably seen on that lovely little masterlist created by..."

He squints at the screen.

"The bitch who just wants to get this over with. I'm here to be your guiding light. Your candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night, as REO Speedwagon put it best. Because I certainly can't fight this feeling anymore."

"And you're probably wondering: but this is supposed to be a Logan fic. Where's all the smut? This writer sure likes to take her sweet ass time in updating. No worries. You have me to fill that empty void between your ribs and legs as Logan works up the nerve to finally stick it in."

In whispered hushed tones, he creeps closer. "He's shy."

"And that little magic button down below is the spot even Wolverine himself can't find. That's right my padawans the cli-"

Goes to shut down computer.

"No wait! Sorry I'll be good."

Another squeak echoes as he lays down as if he's Rose ready to be drawn like a French girl.

"Yeah that's good. That'll reel 'em in."

"So click that button and talk to me about our favorite two hundred year old man and the love life he's currently trying to find. Julia Roberts in Eat Pray Love has nothing on him, I can tell you that. I'll be here...waiting...and watching this shitshow of a fic go down like I do on a Saturday night."

"See you there."

♡THE CLIT♡

[ghostedkonig]

Konig Headcanons

Here’s my first post! Let’s go!

In my personal opinion, König is that social anxious person who isn’t shy and timid but the talks fast, says off the wall comments and fidgets a lot type. Just from listening to all his voice lines.

Anywho, here’s some headcanons I have for him. They’re pretty real life of how I think he’d realistically be. SFW and NSFW below the cut.

Warnings: NSFW below the cut, breeding kink, size kink, mentions of bullying.

SFW

- He has to have a strong emotional bond and friendship with someone to want to be physically intimate with them and be in a relationship.

- He’s pretty guarded emotionally, doesn’t want to let others in, he’s been hurt to many times in the past but once he does, don’t take it for granted.

- Can’t stand watching anyone get bullied or mercilessly teased, he would insert himself and defend the person getting picked on. He can handle getting bullied and shrugs it off after a lifetime of it, but absolutely won’t tolerate seeing anyone else have it happen to them.

- Nervous laughter. Laughs in situations where you really shouldn’t be laughing, not because he’s disrespectful but uncomfortable

- Knows how to cook and loves to do it

- He’s incredibly strong, which means he has an extra gentle touch when he’s not at work.

- Has a custom made mattress for his large frame, he got sick of his feet hanging off the bed or sleeping in the fetal position.

- Sleeps splayed out, literally starfishes.

- He snores and talks gibberish in his sleep.

- Big nerd, loves video games and movies.

- Plays games like Call of Duty in his free time.

- Used to read a lot as a kid, since he didn’t have friends, and he misses being able to devour books in a weekend.

- Really wants a happy family someday.

NSFW

- Unpopular opinion but he’s a dom. Sometimes a switch but he’s a big guy, he likes the control. He loves being able to throw his partner around with ease.

- He’s inexperienced sexually, he’s had a couple of partners in the past but only ever did the deed a couple of times.

- In all honesty he’s pretty vanilla. Loves missionary the most and doggy style. He thinks 69 is freaky. It would take him time exploring and getting comfortable with his partner to do new and kinky things.

- Once learning and getting comfortable with exploring kinky things, he’d start to get real freaky.

- loves receiving head, but loves giving it too.

- Always makes sure his partner cums at least once.

- Lasts a long time initially but really only goes one or maybe two rounds.

- Won’t ever do it in public, he’s a private man.

- He’s hung, he knows it and it does give him a confidence boost like any man would but would be nervous to hurt his partner and would always make sure his partner is prepared but he’s still proud of his size.

- He loves hearing his name moaned, it gets him to go harder.

- Curses in German a lot when he’s feeling exceptionally pleased.

- Loves to make eye, that’s why his favorite position is missionary or the mating press.

- Speaking of mating press, man’s got a breeding kink bad.

[eris-snow]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, bakugou's birthday series 2023

Update: This has been edited through and apologies for the first draft being crap

Finally.

Bakugou knows this is your doing.

The party streamers.

Sato’s delicious cake.

The fucking balloons.

All of these fine preparations had your name scrawled all over them. Heck, most of the class was downstairs today and it was all thanks to you.

Bakugou watches Kirishima with lazy eyes as he and Kaminari battled each other furiously with the Nintendo switches in the living room.

Mario Kart, he scoffs. How amusing.

So many things had happened over their first year, and given Shigaraki’s recent defeat, everyone was still in the celebratory mood. Hell, Deku, the literal savior of the world, had his eyes water with big, fat droplets when Bakugou decided to accept his present, resulting in more yelling that only made the party burst with life.

The waterworks weren’t ending anytime soon, because when the blond decided to thank the nerd, said nerd had morphed into a leaking fountain with wails of joy on the side.

Even with all that power coursing through his body, Izuku still retained his bawling from when he was a brat.

The cake Sato made was probably the best part.

Everyone had insisted on inserting 16 melting candles into the cake just so they could see him blow them out.

His friends are a bunch of saps.

He’s done this before. Set the table, insert candles, sing a song, make a wish and blow them out. Finally, as he cuts the cake while polite, muddy applause and cheers whoop around him, he officially becomes a year older. Despite his reservations, doesn’t really have a choice.

His wish has always been the same: to surpass All Might and to become a number 1 hero. This year, however, he decides to squeeze in one more.

I wish to be a hero who surpasses All Might and to be the number one hero, he recites in his brain as he glares down at the candles. They burn brightly, as if reacting to his fustration. Glancing up, Bakugou shoots you a look, glare dissolving in a way it always has whenever he looks at you.

And that maybe… sometime down the road…I’d get with that ray of Sunshine sitting over there.

–

He can’t fucking find you.

Bakugou growls as he rips off the party hat Mina had forced onto him, yelling as he hunts you down to every inch of the living room.

Part of him wants him to just leave. It’s late and there’s still school tomorrow, so he really should go but…

He needs to thank you.

Of course, out of all the people here, you, the person who planned it, were absent. You’ve done so much for him and the least he could do was thank you.

Katsuki Bakugou isn’t going to give in to his slumber just because he slept late the previous night.

He can afford to fix his fucked up sleep schedule tomorrow.

Next thing he knows, he finds himself stalking out of the dorms to leave his own goddamn party you planned out for him. The blond isn’t escaping.

He just…needs a breather. Yes, that’s it. He’s so physically, mentally and emotionally drained that it makes him wonder if he’s ever going to get over you.

If he’s ever going to be able to finally look at you in the eyes and admit, I don’t like you, straight in the face. If he’s ever going to let go of this stupid crush he has on you and focus on being the number one hero. He doesn’t need you after all, so why is he out here—?

“Why are you out here?” A new voice voiced, and internally Bakugou curses.

Ah, crap.

He knows who that is.

–

Your first thought was to question why Bakugou had come out here. It was past curfew and all of your classmates were in there too. But no. Instead, he had to come to your usual meet-up spot in the dead of the night on pure instinct.

Your second thought was to notice how good he looked. In the soft glow of the lights from the dorm rooms, he seemed almost soft if it weren’t for the fact that he had a crease in between his eyebrows and a scowl on his face. Clinging onto the present you wrapped mere seconds ago, you meet his eyes and voice your question.

“Why are you out here?”

Bakugou pauses, eyeing you for a second.

“Shit’s too noisy in there,” He says, shoving his hand in his pockets. “Mind if I join you?”

You tighten your grip on your clumsily wrapped gift. “Go ahead.”

There’s silence as the mat rustles noisily when he sits beside you.

Bakugou breaks the ice first. “You planned this shit, didn’t you,” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Damn Deku handled the people and you handled the rest, right?”

Sputtering in surprise, your back goes rigid. “How did you-?”

“I have eyes, moron.” He replies sharply, effectively shutting you up. His eyes soften. “And it’s because you’re you, Sunshine.” He mutters. “I know you. Only you would do this kinda thing for me. And maybe Deku, but that’s beside the point.”

You let out a huff, thanking God that he couldn’t see how red your face was. Now that it was a little less awkward, the atmosphere a little more lighter, you take in a deep breath and bring up your gift. “Right. This is for you,”

You gingerly plop it on his lap, facing him properly to gauge his reaction. Honestly, getting Bakugou a gift was as difficult as getting Shoto to get along with his dad. After careful consideration and a poorly drawn out flowchart that took you weeks (the day of the quirk accident was a major set back for you), you’d decided on the one with the least number of cons, and the most personal one.

This decision was made last night. You know that you aren’t exactly the best at meeting deadlines, but even for you this was cutting it close.

Bakugou gives you a quizzical stare, but shreds the wrapping paper off and gazes at your gift for one entire minute.

“You got me a photo album?”

He finally says, already making a move to open it. Inside, there’s a bunch of silly photos of the idiots, you and him.

Why are you so thoughtful, you cheery cinnamon roll?

You smile at him, face melting into relief as you flush red in embarrassment, watching him sift through the photos you picked out. You were trying not to get your hopes up because whatever reaction he had given was nowhere near concrete evidence if he liked it or not-

“This is amazing, Sunshine,” He interjects your thoughts with his own, flipping to one of the selfies you took while he accidentally photobombed you.

It was the first photo you both ever took ‘together’.

Well, there’s concrete evidence that Bakugou likes it. Oh boy, your heart was going to explode. Bakugou smirks a little as he skims it and slams it shut.

“I want part 2 next year.” He grins, tucking the black album between his arms as he reaches over to you.

Your breath hitches as he touches your hair.

What the hell was he thinking-

Cherry blossoms fall all around you and Bakugou swipes one out of your hair before you can even react. His hand lingers though.

“Flowers in your hair,” He grumbles, drawing his hand away.

He takes the warmth away with him.

“What you staring at me like that for, Dumbass?” He grunts, still looking over the flower he plucked out of your hair. “Got something to say?”

You want to say so many things that it’s uncountable at this point.

You want to say your feelings to him, how he makes butterflies scatter in your stomach. How safe it feels to be with him, even if it’s just you and him against the world. How amazing it is, to stand by his side and call yourself his friend. But how can you tell someone to wait for you when they don’t even like you in the first place?

Another cherry blossom dances down, this time landing on his head.

Reaching up instinctively, you gingerly sweep your fingers through his hair and remove it. Bakugou almost blows up the mat you were sitting on.

“What the hell-”

“There was one in your hair.” You blurt out, cheeks pinking even redder. Embarrassed, you avert your eyes from his face and look at your cherry blossom.

You stare at the cherry blossom in your hand as Bakugou stares at his.

I like you. Those words are all Bakugou thinks at that moment. The atmosphere is right, the scenery is fucking cinamatic, but he doesn’t and can’t have you now.

I like you. Those are the words that are repeating over and over again in your head as you stare at the pretty sakura. You like him, you really do, and you know this isn’t a crush because its been going on for months.

Later, he reminds himself.

Later, you fumble with the excuse.

But what if you leave each other behind?

“I like you so much.” The both of you murmur in sync, the words just tumbling out of both of your lips without hesitation or doubt.

What.

Your heads shoot up as you catch each other’s eyes, wild and shocked mirrored.

What.

“DID YOU JUST-”

“I KNOW WHAT I SAID.” You yell back, sakura flying out of your hands as you scramble to your feet. “DID YOU-?”

“THAT WAS MY QUESTION IDIOT!” He fires back, heaving himself of the ground.

“But I thought-I thought you didn’t want a partner now!” Bakugou backs up, confusion rapidly transforming into irritation. His voice grows decibles louder. “The whole 'We’re training to be Heroes’ speech? What was that about then?”

“I don’t!” You yell back, causing Bakugou to freeze. “But I like you!” You emphasise, hiding your face in your hands as your voice softens. “Is that so wrong?”

Bakugou’s vexation seems to dissolve with your words.

“No.” He isn’t yelling anymore. “It isn’t.”

“Can we,” You try, sniffling slightly as tears rim your vision. “I like you, but, but…dammit, why is there no word for this?” You curse frustratedly. Bakugou chuckles fondly, expression softening. Cute.

“We don’t have to date now, Sunshine. If that’s what you mean.” Bakugou says, understanding immediately what you were trying to say. “We can just…take it at our own fucking pace, alright? We’re…” He scowls, voice growing softer. “'in like’,” Bakugou mutters.

A stupid smile reaches his lips and he can’t stop it from growing wider when you laugh too.

“Yeah, sure. We can date. But not now.” You still for a moment, smiling at the blond. “Hey Bakugou,”

He rolls his eyes, opening his arms. “Come here, you,”

You race into his waiting arms and crash into his chest, tears of joy streaming down your face. “Katsuki…!” You sob, gripping him tighter.

“I know,” He hushes you, even though his heart is screaming with the most happiness he’s felt in his life at your voice saying his name, “best fucking birthday ever.”

“Katsuki?” You bury your head deeper, seeking warmth in the crook of his neck.

“Yeah?” He mutters back.

“I’m in like with you.”

A peal of laughter escapes his lips as the both of you laugh under the moonlight, with cherry blossoms strewn all around you.

He presses his lips towards your ear.

“I know.”

[joapmactavish]

Tanning with a grumpy Bucky :,)

just a little somethin (it’s nothing good i just was tanning myself and felt the need to live in a little fantasy, brain barf tbh) *insert ryan gosling photo*

warnings: none, just fluff tbh like tooth rotting fluff like so cheesy you might hurl. bucky’s dialogue is in blue! also both reader and bucky being assholes to eachother is just lovey lol.

“This sucks.”

“Bucky you’re the one who wanted to tan remember?”

“Yeah but then I remembered its super hot out…. i’m sweating…. i feel gross…. i should’ve just gotten a fake tan” he says, emphasizing that he’s sweating and bothered.

“cmon beefcake, remember what happened when you did get that fake tan?”

“oh god don’t remind me of the thong sweetheart i’ll get flashbacks.”

“HA I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THAT I WAS…” you remembered the people around you and corrected yourself by lowering your voice. “you never sent me a photo in it, i would’ve had that framed and mounted.”you giggled and he rolled his eyes. “I CALL YOU NALGON FOR A REASON!” You then noticed the eyes from others around you again.

Bucky always told you not to care but you hated when people judged. Truthfully you could care less about the judgment toward you but when it came to him you became the most protective person ever, and for good reason! He was amazing with you.

“Erm, honey?”

“Yeah Buck?”

“I think you forgot to get my thighs, yknow how bad it is when they’re burnt” he smiles, using that annoying ass charm he has to try and convince you.

“nice try dude but i specifically applied the high spf lotion the first run through, you’re not due for a “”re-rub”” until the clock hits 12:40 and it’s?” you pause and check your phone, “12:38- oh damn it” your hands go to your face.

“yeah you were starting to get all nerd on me that you forgot about the time, you forget my timing is always right baby.”

“don’t even start it old man, you wanna walk down that road i’ll go the full 150 miles!” you shoot back, playfully.

“Oh yeah? and i’ll go the full 6,000 miles!”

“yeah yeah sure whatever grandpa, did you remember to take your vitamins today? oh no… i distinctly remember making you take them AND making you breakfast.”

“are you sassing me, missy?” he lowers his sunglasses and raises a brow.

oh shit. oh fuck. OH SHIT.

you look away from his eyes,

“listen, let’s say hypothetically i was joking right….”

“my ass, you’re gettin thrown in that pool next time!” he jokes.

“NO PLEASE I NEED TO TAN TOO!”

he just chuckles and intertwines your hands together and strokes your hand with his thumb, as if instinct. it’s funny because he also forgot about the re-rub after doing that.

you don’t know why but after he relaxes again with a smile on his face you remember what it took to get here with him and you almost cry. all the one on one time, respect, and understanding with how difficult you could be according to others… he just wasn’t like the rest of em so you knew from the first time you talked to him that you were both fucked, in a good way.

[keto-keyes]

The Misfit Gang (Slytherin Gang ff)

This is a OC insert imagine, with multiple parts. If you don't want to use the name ive chosen, feel free to insert your own :)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 Part 2

After the sorting, where a certain Harry Potter had been sorted into Gryffindor, Soren sat in between Pansy and a tall, dark skinned boy named Blaise. She'd been sorted into Slytherin,  the house of the ancient De Villes  from over 50 years before. It was the same house as a certain Draco Malfoy, but anything was better than being in Hufflepuff like the 20 nameless and useless family members before her. 

Blaise didn't talk much, his eyes only on his food, but they'd exchanged a couple of words when the feast had been served and the school song finally finished. But as Soren saw it, it was better than nothing. At least she had a friend, and, by the sound of Pansy's animated conversation on her right, maybe even more. 

"Can you pass the pumpkin juice?" asked a soft voice. Blaise's voice. 

Soren glanced up from her steak, reached to grab the jug, and passed it to him, barely making noise. 

"Here," she said, just as quietly, "Do you need anything else?" 

They stared at each other for a moment, Blaise finding the words to say whatever was on his mind and Soren waiting to be answered, before he once again opened his mouth. 

"Mmh... the custard tarts? I-if you don't mind," he mumbled. 

'Not much of a talker,' Soren thought, 'But he's nice, I guess.' She passed him the plate of tarts and was about to turn back to her food when he spoke once more. 

"T-thanks... Soren." 

Soren almost jumped when he said her name, though quietly, and her head snapped to face him with a light blush. 

"Oh! Y-you're welcome, Blaise," she replied, whispering almost, in case anyone was watching, "Anytime." 

"Call me Zabini," he grunted, "'pparently it's a sign of weakness if you use first names in Slytherin. Malfoy said." 

"O-of course," she answered, shivering at the mention of Malfoy. 

She noticed he did the same when he said the blonde boy's name, and smiled hopefully up at him. He didn't return her smile, but nodded curtly instead. 

                                      -----------**-----------

In the Slytherin common room, a few days after the first years began school at Hogwarts, Soren and Blaise sat side-by-side in a dark corner. They both had homework (Pansy too but she refused to miss the girls' sleep-out), and although neither needed help and they didn't talk, the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Suddenly, Malfoy and his cronies sauntered over, smirking and laughing amongst themselves. Soren did her best not to look up at him, not to show fear. But when he stood above her and blocked out her light, she couldn't stop herself. 

"Ha! I knew you'd be over here! See boys, the nerds are studying again!" Malfoy cackled, high-fiving one of them. 

"P-please move," Soren whispered, not wanting a conflict. 

Malfoy stuck his face next to hers, sneering, and grabbed her transfiguration book. 

"What was that? Speak up when you talk to important people!" he jeered at her, flipping through pages of the book. 

Soren turned away and, raising her voice the slightest bit, said, "I said - please move." 

Malfoy laughed and dropped her book down on the table, shattering her quill's nib. 

"My father is a big, wealthy wizard. I'll tell him if you say anything," he warned her in a sneer, the two brutes cracking their knuckles. Soren flinched. 

Blaise jumped to his feet, throwing down his book and almost knocking the table over as he stood. 

"Give it a REST Malfoy!" he growled, "Your dad couldn't care less about you, and you know it! Shut up and leave her ALONE!" 

For once, Malfoy shut up and walked off.  His cronies shot Blaise dirty looks but still they, too retreated. Puffing, Blaise flopped back down onto his seat and wiped his brow. 

"Thank you, Zabini," Soren whispered, touching his arm. 

He looked at her for a second, seeing how shaken she was, then picked up his quill and held it out to her. 

"You're welcome Soren," he replied, taking her broken quill and stuffing it in his own bag. He thought for a second before adding, "And, you know, you can call me Blaise. I don't really care about strength and weakness, OR what Malfoy says anymore." 

Smiling at him and taking the quill, Soren nodded. 

"You're a good friend, Blaise," she said softly.