#THANK YOU FOR SCOLDING THIS MAN FOR HIS RECKLESSNESS

[luvvictoria]

Fav Nanny - Poly!TF141

+ pairings. poly!tf141 x f!reader

+ tags. Mom Friend!Reader, Reader Loves Kids, TF141 Malfunctioning Over Reader, “Good Boy” Kink (Unintentional?), Size Difference Kink (You vs. The Massive TF141 Men), "Sweetheart, I Hope You're Not Too Tired" (THE LINE THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING), Slow Burn to Absolute Filth, HEADCANONS !!

+ a/n. Reblog with your favourite line ! It would help me very much to grow my account !! Thank you in advance!!

+ summary. Lethal on the battlefield, soft as silk off-duty—Reader is TF141’s deadliest soldier and the sweetest nanny. The contrast wrecks them. One minute, she’s snapping necks; the next, she’s rocking a baby to sleep. Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Price are obsessed—hopeless, hungry, and ready to ruin her.

+ support me ✰ .ᐟ buy me a coffee I Instagram

Ohhh, I love this concept! A TF141!Fem!Reader who’s a badass soldier on the battlefield but in her spare time, she’s the ultimate sweetheart, taking care of kids as a nanny? Adorable.

Now, if we’re turning this into poly!TF141, that means Soap, Ghost, Gaz, and Price all got their eyes on her. And the spice? Oh, I can see it now—

The Duality That Drives Them Crazy

Soap: “How the fuck do you go from making men piss themselves in fear to cooing at a baby like an angel?”

Gaz: “It’s actually terrifying. Do it again.”

Ghost: Quietly obsessed, silently suffering.

Price: Takes a long, long drag of his cigar and looks away before his thoughts get inappropriate.

On the field? She’s a force of nature, ruthless and efficient. Precision shots, quick thinking, and absolutely fearless.

Off the field? She’s all gentle smiles, soothing words, and warm hugs—the kind of woman who rocks a baby to sleep after a mission like she didn’t just take down a whole enemy squad.

The 141 boys are obsessed with this contrast. It borders on worship.

Moments That Would Make Them Weak

💥 Soap: Watching her discipline a kid—firm but loving—and he suddenly wonders how she’d be if he was being bratty. (He definitely tests that later.) 💥 Ghost: Sees her gently humming a lullaby to a crying child. That soft voice, that warmth… He’s never been jealous of a kid before, but damn. 💥 Gaz: Catches her casually lifting a toddler up with one arm and then later that day, flipping a full-grown man over her shoulder. He is down bad. 💥 Price: Has a very inappropriate thought when she presses a baby to her chest, bouncing them gently, and he has to physically leave the room.

Spicing It Up

One night, after a mission, they find her half-asleep on the couch, a baby monitor in her lap, dressed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt. The urge to ruin her is strong.

She’s scolding Soap and Gaz after a reckless mission, and Ghost and Price exchange a look because that stern voice? That commanding presence? … Yeah, they feel things.

Imagine her in a sundress, barefoot, holding a baby on her hip, and one of the guys just loses his self-control completely.

How spicy are we talking? Because this could go so many directions.

Spicy Headcanons 🔥

The First Time They See Her in Full Nanny Mode

They come back from a mission, exhausted, ready to crash—only to walk in on her in a sundress, barefoot, holding a baby on her hip.

Soap fucking CHOKES on his drink.

Gaz deadass forgets how to breathe.

Ghost freezes mid-step, completely malfunctioning.

Price? That man has to take a SEAT.

She’s just rocking the baby gently, humming a lullaby, and then she looks up and goes: “Oh! You’re back! Want some tea?” …They want something else.

The First Time They Hear Her Scold a Kid

They always assumed she was soft, but then they see her disciplining a kid—

Voice stern, eyes sharp, arms crossed.

Soap is suddenly wondering how she’d sound scolding him.

Gaz is sweating.

Ghost is dangerously quiet.

Price is reevaluating his entire life.

Soap leans over to Gaz and whispers: “Imagine her saying ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed.’” Gaz: “I’d fucking CRY.”

When She Calls Them “Good Boys” Without Realizing It

She’s used to praising kids, so it just slips out.

Soap helps her with groceries? “Thanks, Johnny, you’re such a good boy.”

Gaz fixes her car? “Aw, Kyle, good boy!”

Ghost carries something heavy for her? “You’re so strong, Si, good boy.”

Price pays for their food? “Such a gentleman, good boy.”

IMMEDIATE MALFUNCTION. 🛑

Soap drops the bag and stares at her like she just committed a war crime.

Gaz literally turns red. Neck, ears, everything.

Ghost? You cannot tell me that man doesn’t shudder just a little.

Price fucking growls.

The Sundress Incident™

Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Price are chilling outside when you walk in wearing a tiny, flowy sundress.

You don’t realize you're basically tempting fate itself.

Bending over to pick something up? That dress lifts just a little too much.

Soap makes a noise. A deep, feral noise.

Gaz has to grip his beer like a lifeline.

Ghost literally stops breathing.

Price is white-knuckling his glass.

“What?” you ask, oblivious. Soap, voice rough: “…Nothing, lass. Absolutely fuckin’ nothing.”

The Night They All Lose Their Self-Control

It happens after a mission. You're tired, in nothing but an oversized shirt and panties, curled up on the couch.

You're watching TV, hair messy, half-asleep.

The boys come in, sweaty, exhausted, ready to shower—and they see you like that.

Legs bare. Shirt slipping off one shoulder.

Thighs pressing together absentmindedly.

Soft, sleepy voice: “Mmm… you boys okay?”

🛑 IT’S OVER. 🛑

Soap sits down next to her, close enough that their thighs touch. Gaz leans against the couch, watching her with dark eyes. Ghost doesn’t sit. He stands, watching. Staring.

Price exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw, because he knows EXACTLY where this is going.

She looks at them—blinking, confused.

Soap smirks.

Gaz’s lips twitch.

Ghost’s fingers flex at his sides.

Price simply says, “Sweetheart, I hope you’re not too tired.”

[maidragoste]

Scare

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

More of Daemon's Wife AU

Summary: You and Daemon get a scare at Laenor's wedding.

Reblogs, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 💖💖

If you have ideas or thoughts for this series you are welcome to share them in my inbox 🤭

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Daemon is not usually afraid, after all, he is a Targaryen, he has the blood of the dragon, he is "The Rogue Prince", he claimed Caraxes, he fought in tourneys, he was the leader of the golden cloaks and he fought in the war of the Stepstones. A fearful man couldn't do any of that.

But today he really felt afraid at Laenor's wedding. One moment he was talking to his cousin Rhaenys and then the screams were heard. Both of them quickly went on alert and Daemon began to look around the room for you because minutes before you had left the table to dance with one of your cousins. But the prince couldn't find you. Daemon couldn't remember ever feeling so desperate as he tried to get through the crowd of guests to get to you. Irritation grew in him every time someone bumped into him making it harder to find you. Then he finally saw you and got to the reason for all the fuss. Criston Cole was hitting your brother's lover without stopping and a few meters away you were. Daemon saw the determination in your eyes and began to call out to you, but you didn't hear him over the screams of the other guests or you decided to ignore him as you made your way to Criston Cole. You were barely able to hold on to one of the guard's arms before he pushed you away and you ended up on the floor. If it wasn't for Daemon's fear of you and the baby then he would have gone and cut off Criston Cole's fucking head for daring to touch you. But at that moment your husband's priority was the safety and well-being of you and the baby so he took you in his arms and carried you out of that damn wedding while you screamed for Laenor and Joffrey.

Now Daemon and you were alone in his chambers, the maester having left a few minutes ago after assuring the two that the baby was fine.

“I’m fine” you reminded your husband as he remained silent, probably thinking of everything that could have gone wrong. “We’re fine” you took his hand and placed it on your belly despite the baby not kicking yet.

Daemon caressed your belly before leaning down to place a kiss on it, thanking his son for being strong. “You were reckless” he scolded you, turning his attention back to you.

“I was,” you agreed, feeling guilty for not thinking about the baby, but at that moment, all you could think about was helping your brother and Joffrey. You couldn’t stand by and watch them get beaten. But the adrenaline of the moment was wearing off and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the situation you were in. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to put our baby in danger.”

Daemon’s serious expression fell the instant he saw your eyes begin to fill with tears. If there was one thing he hated, it was seeing you cry.

“Hey, don't cry.” He took your face in his hands and began to tenderly caress your cheeks. “You said it, you're fine and you heard the maester, the baby is fine.” He kissed your forehead. “But if you're so worried about putting yourself and the baby in danger again, then I could lock you in our chambers until you give birth.” Of course he wasn't serious, but he succeeded in his purpose of distracting you.

“Of course you'd like to do that, you want to have me just for you.” A small smile appeared on your lips as you spoke.

“I'm not going to deny it, you know I don't like sharing you with the rest of the world, wife.”

You didn't know if it was Daemon or you who was the first to capture the other's lips. But it didn't matter, what mattered was that for a moment while you kissed and touched each other you were able to forget about the scare you experienced. Daemon and you took refuge in each other's warmth, ready to not let the night end bitterly.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @jacesvelaryons

@aemondwhoresworld @cassiopeiablogg-blog

[sparklingchim]

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour.

But sometimes, it backfires spectacularly and gets him into trouble.

Which is why he stands in front of his fuming manage, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

Not only is Jungkook’s charm complicating things, but the fact that he is famous too.

Sometimes, he uses that as an advantage. Not in an obvious way — never by flaunting his own achievements or demanding special treatment.

That’s not his style.

His name alone carries weight, and he knows how to let it work for him, quietly bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Standing in front of his manager, Taesung, and his PR agent, Jiwoo, eyes downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” he pleads desperately, looking back and forth between his manager and his PR agent. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at the manager, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just a month away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But his manager doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

~

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

[frmisnow]

BORDEAUX !

summary. after you realize that the man you had a drunk one night stand with, was in fact your new ceo. you settle on avoiding him as best as you could- but why do you feel so drawn to him?

notes. welcome to a new verse (aka. series), usually most of my series are more fluffy w a touch of smut (besides two whores, one job lol) but this one is gonna be a lot more angsty and smutty! so i hope y'all are into that kinda jam 🍷⭒⋆｡˚

warnings /includes. (1.7 k words / suggestive!) non idol! ceo! jungkook x non specified! reader, alcohol, shitty ex :/, jk is an alcohol nerd?, reader kind of uses him to kill bad memories ?, making out

the air was heavy with the scent of alcohol and smoke melted with the faint music somewhere in the background: jazz, how unfitting for this kind of environment. the enviornment which people go to specifically to escape reality, for a few minutes, maybe a few hours.

the alcohol wasn't bad, at least judging by the wine and it offered a sense of peace or rebellion, stupid fucking rebellion. your ex used to despise wine with all of his heart, he hated the scent of it, didn't want you to drink any of it near him.

he didn't like when you drank alcohol over all, he was stern on the idea of keeping you innoccent. you chugged down the glass like a shot at the sheer memory of the behavior you used to put up with.

the glass hits the table with a dull thud and you could almost hear his voice, scolding you for how reckless you were. you reach out for the bottle, pouring yourself another glass. and this time you savor the taste on your tongue, the rich flavor.

you feel eyes burning into your face, no- not burning, observing. it didn't feel uncomfortable but you could firmly feel them on you. the man's presence cut through the fog of alcohol and self-pity that had settled over you, and for a moment, you simply stared.

you should have looked away, but you didn’t. instead, you lifted your glass to your lips, taking another sip of wine, feeling the liquid slide down your throat, heavy and warm. he watched you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes never leaving yours.

he stands up making his way to you, and suddenly the crowd and all the shitty memories fade away, it was almost like he had a bigger effect on you then the alcohol did and that said a lot.

finally, he spoke, his voice low and smooth, like velvet draped over steel. “mind if i join you?”

the question was formal, did he work in business? no, that would be stupid to assume based of just a question. you nod, slowly but surerly, motioning towards the chair next to you.

he takes the seat next to you, signaling for a nearby waiter, requesting another glass, before turning his attention back to you. his gaze is intense and unwavering, as if he’s trying to see straight through to your soul.

“rough night?” he asks, his tone conversational but his eyes still focused intently on you.

his thigh touched yours, the proximity with somebody you didn't know should make you feel uncomfortable but it strangely didn't. "yeah," you mouth. the whole truth was too complicated, too raw, to lay out infront of a stranger.

a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, before he speaks again, his voice was soft, almost soothing. "you're downing that glass like it's water."

you look at the almost empty glass that your fingers had been circling around while talking to him, he was right. you didn't even remember how many glasses you had, three perhaps?

"you have a pretty voice," you mumble, finshing what was left of liquid in the glass.

he raised an eyebrow at the compliment, surprised by the sudden comment from you. he can't help but chuckle a little, amused by the drunken confession. "thank you," he replies, sounding sincere.

you both barerly talked, you were two strangers in a cheap bar, why bother talking about boring jobs? the night was young.

the music in the background shifted, a slower, bluesy tune now. the more you looked at him, the more you could firmly feel his thigh pressed into your own. his fingers, tattooed, why hadn't you noticed that earlier? took the wine bottle from earlier, tilting it around to look at the label. he seemed to know the brand, humming in approval.

"it's a good vintage." he says, still holding the bottle but his eyes are on you, studying your face in the dim light.

and this actually managed to crack a smile out of you. it wasn't meant to be a funny comment, in fact he seemed serious about it. was he an alcohol expert? the fact that you knew absolutly nothing about wine made it better.

he takes a sip from his own glass, his eyes never leaving yours. he can't help but find your lack of knowledge about wine oddly endearing.

please, talk me stupid about alcohol. i want to know what rebellion tastes like. the words linger on your tongue but you don't cave into the urge of saying them. i want you to teach me what he was so afraid of showing me.

"i have a whole collection of rare and expensive wines back at my place. some you would never find even in the best bars," he pauses, his hand brushing slightly against your arm.

"are you trying to make me come home with you?" you ask though it's not a question you necessarily need an answer to, you knew what he had meant.

"and if i was?" his eyes stay on yours, tilting his head, "would you come with me?"

stupid fucking question.

the second you step into his apartment, the door closing behind you, he is already on you. his hands are on your waist, holding you firmly in place as his tongue invades your mouth, tasting the mixture of your saliva and the rich flavor of the wine.

when you both take time to breathe, you ask, "so where is the wine you were talking about?" your tone is clearly intoxicated, your eyes a little hazy as he doesn't let go of you and you both stumble towards his living room together. the action seeming strangely domestic.

"it's right there." his voice a tad bit breathless, he motions towards a large display of alcohol, his eyes scanning the selection before settling on a particular bottle.

he reaches for the bottle, the arm around your waist still keeping you close to him, the alcohol clearly making the both of you more touchier then you would be sober.

jungkook holds up the bottle, letting you get a good look at the label. it was an expensive brand, even you could tell that, the words written on it swirling in an elegant script.

you hum, "italy," leaning into his touch sub counciously whilst he drew little circles over the clothed skin, twisting the bottle, "when did you get this?"

"i have a guy who brings me the good stuff from time to time."

your eyes wandered over the display, you wanted to kneel forward to look over the bottles but didn't want to get out of his embrace either.

it felt good, doing everything your ex would scrutinize you for. he'd be disapproving off even letting you look over all of these.

his head made a little motion towards almost like a silent 'go on' like he could firmly hear your thoughts.

the bottles seemed rare, visably very espensive and whilst you looked over the alcohol, he looked at you.

"what do you think?" he asks after a few minutes, tone soft and quiet like he didn't want to disturb you.

"i think i've had enough to drink already but it's all really pretty," you trail off, "you're really pretty"

jungkook smiles at the comment, reaching forward to run his fingers through your hair, the gesture seemingly absentminded yet surprisingly tender, "is that the alcohol talking?"

you shrug, grinning, "i honestly don't know"

he studies your face for a moment, his eyes roving over your features. he reaches out, his fingers grazing your jawline, the touch light and gentle. "you know, you're very pretty yourself," he says, his voice almost a murmur.

the color of the red wine in your hands is now the exact color of your cheeks and your mind is empty as you lean forward to kiss him once more.

this time when your lips meet, it was rather delicate and slow. as you both sat on the ground next to the large display and kissed eachother like it was the end of the world.

and you don't stop when you felt like you couldn't breathe, placing your hand on his chest, feeling the pulse beneath the shirt. this was what drowning memories was all about.

your ex didn't kiss like this. he didn't hold you like this and he most certaintly will never get the chance to redeem himself ever.

you find yourselves sinking to the floor while jungkook craddles your face as if you were something precious, something worth cherishing.

your ex kissed you just to check of the foreplay box, jungkook kisses you because he wants to.

"i want you," you mumur against his lips as you both take time to breathe.

you wake up to harsh sunlight filtering through the blinds, you realize you're lying on a coach. his coach. the cool leather fabric is a stark contrast to your bare skin, that's when you notice — you’re only in your panties. red lace with little bows.

the rest of your clothes are scattered on the floor, your shirt draped over the armrest, your skirt crumpled beside it.

you try to piece the events of last night together, did you sleep together? ... you can't quite remember. you sit up slowly, your head pounding with the dull throb of a hangover.

jungkook's presence was no where to be found, the apartment was dead quiet. he left you here, naked and confused: what a dick.

you do your best to gather the clothes, slipping into them, you search for your phone, finding it next to the alcohol display. you take another look at the various bottles, now sober.

you shake your head at how easy you were yesterday, checking the time on your phone until your heart drops — the meeting. the meeting you could not afford to miss.

you let out a groan of frustration, fighting the zipper of your skirt, great- you were going to meet your new ceo looking and feeling like a mess.

you step into the large building with your heart still pounding, why did the metro station have to be so far away from your job? running as fast as you can had been your only option.

you push through the glass doors of the conference room, instantly sitting down, you did not want the people to look even more then a second at the wrinkled skirt of yours.

the important man stands facing away from you, writing something down on a white board. he seemed pretty tall, confident posture.

and then he turns around.

your expression drops. it's him. it's the man from last night.

🍓 tag list — @chansloverr , @marimarvelfan , @bxcndd

[firesmokeandashes]

Mha "could've been canon" quotes/scenarios

Fake Deku: *walks into the common room and over to Katsuki*

Fake Deku: "Hey Bakugou! Want to go spa-"

Half of class 1 a: *suddenly jumps the fake deku*

Fake Deku: "Wait! What are you guys doing! Get off me!"

Ochako: "Cut the bullshit, we know you're not Deku"

Fake Deku: *detransforms into some random villain*

Villain: "But how? I haven't done anything out of the ordinary!"

Todoroki: "Midoriya never calls Bakugou, Bakugou"

Tenya: "In fact we're not entirely sure he knows how to say Bakugo's real name"

Katsuki: Besides, danger sense would have alerted Izuku before everyone jumped you and gotten out of the way. So really you're just stupid"

Jirou: "Wait, sense this guy isn't Deku-"

Momo: "Where's the real one!?"

●●●●●●●

Meanwhile at the villain's hideout:

Izuku: "So you see, you can be whatever you want to be, you don't have to be a villain"

Villain 1: *sniffling* "That's so deep man"

Villain 2: *crying* "No one's ever told us that before! Thank you!"

Villain 3: *sobbing uncontrollably* "Thank you so much! Im gonna turn my whole life around now, I promise!"

Villain 4: *sitting in a corner contemplating their life choices and having a mental crisis*

Izuku: *slightly flustered* "There's really no need to thank me! You guys should have been told all this from the beginning!"

All four villains: *thinking* 'And he's humble too!'

●●●●●●●

Back at UA:

Aizawa: "So you mean to tell me he's been missing for FIVE HOURS!?"

Katsuki: *frustrated sigh* Yeah"

Aizawa: *insert groan of dissapointed and frustration*

Aizawa's phone: *rings*

Aizawa: "What!?"

Villain 1: "Um, is this Erasurehead?"

Aizawa: "Yes, what do want? I'm in the middle of important business!"

Villain 1: "Well, you see, we have one of your students, Midoriya, and we want to know where we should drop him off at?"

Aizawa: "...."

Aizawa: "What do mean 'drop him off at'"?

Villain 1: Well, he kind of gave us a talk about how we don't need to be villains and now we all feel bad about the stuff we did and want to give him back to you"

Aizawa: *sighs tiredly while dragging his hand down his face*

Aizawa: "Meet me at the abandoned choclate factory over on 15th street"

Villain 1: "Okay! Yeah, we can do that and I just want to say how sorry we are for kidnapping him! We're fully expecting to be arrested when we get there, so don't worry about us putting up a fight"

Aizawa: *sighs tiredly and hangs up*

Katsuki who listened to the whole conversation on speaker phone: "So he did it again?"

Aizawa: "Yup."

Katsuki: "And now you have to call the police and do more paperwork than you want to?"

Aizawa: "Yup."

Katsuki: "Want me to go with you to pick him up or..."

Aizawa: "Yes, lord knows he's gonna need someone to talk to on the way back and I cannot deal with him right now."

Katsuki: "So... what do we do with this guy?"

Katsuki: *jabs finger towards the shapeshifing villain who is tied and gagged with sero's tape snd spewing muffled curses at them*

Aizawa:"Hand him over to campus security and let them take care of him"

Katsuki: *nods and drags the screaming villain out the door with him*

Aizawa: "Im getting too old for this"

●●●●●

Later at the abandoned Chocolate Factory:

Aizawa, Katsuki, and a handful of cops walk into the Factory:

Izuku: *jumping up and down while waving his hand*

Cops: *rush over to arrest the villains*

Izuku: "Sensei! Kacchan!! Over here!"

Katsuki: "We know, idiot! We aren't blind!"

Villain 1 being arrested: *whispering* That's 'Kacchan'? I thought he'd be nicer"

Villains 2-4 also being arrested: *nod in agreement*

Izuku: *bounds over to Aizawa and Katsuki*

Izuku: "Sensei! Kacchan! You're not going to believe the day I've had!"

Izuku: *begins rambling*

Aizawa looks tiredly at Katsuki: "You take care of him, I have a big enough headache as it is"

Katsuki: *nods and turns back to listen to Izuku's rant and scold him for being reckless and getting in trouble again*

■■■■■■■

[nightingale-prompts]

Batboy is back baby!

First | Previous | Next

(Back to the regularly scheduled idiots)

Life was not quite back to normal. Danny's lack of wings meant he didn't hang from the ceiling anymore. He also started eating less, he wasn't as much of a fiend for fruits anymore. The white fur collar he had started shedding until there was only a thin layer left.

Danny slept most of the day only moving to new spots occasionally. He would choose the most inconvenient spots as well. Like the roof.

One such day Danny was sleeping soundly in the midday sun when a portal opened behind him. A hand grabbed Danny by the ankle back onto the Ghost Zone. He only managed a single yelp before he was face to face with Clockwork.

"What part of come back do you not understand?" He scolded holding the boy in the palm of his hand.

Danny rolled over in the icy blue hand and sighed. He didn't bother looking up at "Kronos" in his titan form. He knew that it meant that his mentor was in a very bad mood.

"Now look at you. You have bearly staved off going into stasis. You are not fully formed yet young man and can't survive in the physical realm without an energy source. What have you been feeding on other than your own energy reserves?!" He lectured before another voice cut in.

"Go easy on him my love. Let me." Nocturne soothed taking Danny into his hands.

Danny was thankful for a moment before realizing that Nocturne's head was that of a ram which meant he was also mad.

Its very easy to read the emotions of god-level entities. The more imposing and non-humanoid the worse they feel.

"Daniel...what did I tell you to do late time we spoke?" Nocturne's red eyes narrowed, and his horizontal pupils shrank.

Danny knew this was a trap.

"Speak boy." Nocturne ordered.

"To return-"

"To return to the realms!" Nocturne bleated "And yet you stubbornly remained. Now look, you are practically wilting away! You are still a millennia too young to be this reckless. I should ban you from the physical realm. Putting you in a dream bubble for a century would teach you a lesson."

Danny knew that this was a bluff. Nocturne was a huge softie and never went through with a punishment. Clockwork on the other hand never made false promises.

" No, my Lamb. We shouldn't. Not yet at least." Clockwork sighed "For now we should concern ourselves with helping him recover."

Danny sighed with relief as the Titans let him go for now.

He had to leave a note for Dick that he would be at his homeworld for a few days. Clockwork also left a note to assure Dick that Danny was in good hands and is also being grounded.

Recovery by ghost standards was similar to humans.

Ambient ectoplasm could heal with enough time but it's by no means fast. It would take years for Danny to get back to his old self. When Danny first came back after being torn open the recovery was painfully slow without proper care. If Clockwork hadn't stepped in then Danny would still be in that state.

The first step is food. Despite what you'd think ghosts eat. They all have to eat something to survive, but they all just have their favorite foods.

Nocturne was a desire eater.

Clockwork by nature ate everything

Danny himself is a fear eater.

Fear eaters are the most common among ghosts.

But these are abstract foods.

Physical foods also exist. Ghosts cultivate foods of their own.

Danny's favorites are a bowl of Ice Scream with Ambrosia chunks, neck-tarine lemonade, the devil's eggs, and candied meal worms.

It sure beats eating honeyed dates, bread, and cheese with Clockwork and Nocturne. But a growing ghost has to eat alter food to grow in power.

So Danny can only eat offerings until further notice.

Clockwork also sent Danny to do tasks and training.

"You need to steel your mind. Your perception of yourself is too flimsy. The more you believe yourself to be small or a child the more your body becomes so. The more negative emotions you direct at yourself the worst you will appear." Clockwork droned on and on showing Danny complex diagrams about how to properly use his powers.

The time ghost had been firm about not teaching Danny any new abilities until he got this down.

Danny was not enthusiastic. He bearly made it though the first lecture on this.

"Give him a break. How about letting me show him some examples?" Nocturne said entering the room with a tray of tea. "Come with me. We'll go to the menagerie."

For the next few days, Danny was given a crash course on biology and mental conditioning. He practiced changing his form as quickly as possible and accurately copying. Nocturne was strict but fair. Nocturne was actually one of the best when it came to shifting.

On the last day, Danny hugged his mentors goodbye for now. Clockwork made sure to fasten a talisman around Danny's neck that would keep them in contact and help Danny control his power better so he didn't lose too much energy. Nocturne handed Danny a bag of golden Ambrosia for the road.

And like that, Danny was back home. Recharged and ready.

****

Dick tried not to be worried about Danny. He understood that since he wasn't entirely human he had to recover differently. But you can't blame him for feeling anxious.

Going missing once was problem enough.

When he returned to the apartment the first thing to greet him when he opened the door was something fuzzy flying at his face.

That fuzzy thing was a squeaking sliver bat that had somehow go in the house.

Dick peeled it off his face as the bat gleefully chirped at him.

"How did you get in little guy? Did Damian hide you in here?" Dick said as the Bat climbed up his suit.

Suddenly a heavy weight pressed down on him as the albino bat turned into Danny. Dick toppled to the floor.

"Dad!! Look! I finally did it! I flew!" Danny said leaning over Dick and smiling from ear to ear. His blue eyes flashed green.

Dick was stunned silent as he took in the last few seconds.

Did Danny call him dad?

[noyasmashing]

Tamaki is literally my only anime crush 😭 and then you write for him 🫶

Can we have yan Tamaki hcs? I don’t know if you write yan or not

ANYTHING FOR U MILLY!! I have not written yandere before so ill try my best ;3 (sorry if it sucks)

CW: soft yandere?? nothing to crazy just a bit of stalking and sexual fantasies, sub coded Tamaki, praise, and degradation.

First and foremost, this man is the epitome of shy. I mean, seriously, he blends in pretty well, never going out of his way to bring attention to himself. And he totally plays that to his advantage. You'll catch him subtly trailing after you, taking mental notes of your every move, even down to the exact time you do things. He insists it's for your protection, unwilling to acknowledge to himself just how unsettling his behavior is. If you're into coffee, he's got your order and the precise moment you grab it each morning memorized.

And he's definitely strategic about it. Say he knows you tend to stroll over to the library after classes, he'll just happen to "accidentally" cross paths with you during his "routine afternoon jog."

But don't expect him to strike up a conversation just yet. No, instead, he's content to admire you from a distance, pulling all the stops to catch your eye without saying a word.

Oh, and let's talk about compliments. This guy eats those up like candy. Anytime you praise him for his heroics or strength, his elf-like ears turning bright red, stumbling over his words to thank you.

He gets oddly possessive if he catches you chatting with any other guy, especially if it's Mirio. In his mind, he's already picturing you two planning the wedding. But, of course, he's way too timid to voice any of that. Instead, he'll just retreat to a quiet corner, silently brooding, hoping you'll notice he's upset without him having to say a word.

I can just tell physical touch is his weakness. You'll find him "accidentally" bumping into you, using any excuse to press his body against yours just to get by, or letting his hands brush against yours as he hands you something. All those little moments of contact? Yeah, he's definitely not immune to those.

Growing up, he was never one to show much interest in girls. Crushes were foreign to him, until you came along. Your laughter at his silly jokes alone was enough to make his head spin. He craved the rush of dopamine and nerves he felt when he was around you, wanting more with each passing moment. Eventually, he took things too far.

Following you home was undoubtedly one of the most reckless actions he had ever taken, and predictably, he got caught. Even if you did return feelings for him, your initial response would be to scold him for his invasive behavior.

He feels remorseful, tears falling down his red cheeks, but the attention you're suddenly giving him weakens his knees. It's a revelation to him that he also enjoys being degraded by you. Suddenly, all he can think about is you tugging on his long locks and calling him nothing but a toy for your own pleasure.

That is when he starts experiencing wet dreams about you. Humping his pillow in his sleep as he moans your name, along with little gasps and sighs. At the same time, he is wetting his underwear with an embarrassing amount of cum. Never once did he feel so perverted and horny, but he's too caught up in the moment to worry about it.

[coralinnii]

Can I ask for Vil, Took or Malleus (any of them, or multiple depending on how cool you are with it) when they find their s/O gives them cute handmade gifts? Baked treats, books, paintings and such. I completely understand if you can't get to this, but if you decide to take this up, It'll be really really cool! Thanks and have a great day!

‎‧₊˚✧Made with Love✧˚₊‧

↳ Reader S/O who made him handmade gifts

feat: Vil ❋ Rook ❋ Malleus genre: fluff note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, nicknames were used for readers (spudling, mon tresor, dear, child of man), probably bad grammar and usage of French because of Rook,

To anyone who were wondering for my sudden MIA status…I got sick, like hella sick. I’m not the greatest at taking care of myself and apparently my body decided to teach me a lesson for that by leaving me down for the count for 2 weeks then giving me migraines if I spend even 20 minutes in front of a screen for another week. To be fair, I could have recovered quicker if I actually…rested and took care of myself but hey, lessons were learned.

I literally started this a month ago but now I need to relearn the characters because my brain can’t remember anything, so I’m sorry if it isn’t the greatest T_T

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

To say he was suspicious was an understatement. Vil was a man of routine and he could tell when something was amiss as the days went by. Little differences were of no cause of concern, but when his little spudling is just acting too skittish, the blond just couldn’t let it go.

At first, Vil was content with scolding you for the little bad habits you started. He caught you too many times hunching your neck and back, and the eyebags forming under your eyes were too concerning to him to ignore.

He had to physically hold in his gasp however, when you refused to come over to his dorm for a skincare date. He tried to be understanding when you claimed you had too much homework to come over, but he could do without Rook having to point out that he was sulking.

Yes Rook, Vil is very aware he could get early wrinkles.

Frustration turned to concern as Vil was quick to pick up that you were hiding something from him. Occasionally, he could see you quickly hiding something from his sight before smiling.

Insecurity soon struck him as alarming thoughts swirled about his mind. Was he the problem? Or is there a problem but he was too undependable to you to confide in?

Not one to beat around the bush, he approached you.

You were surprised that your lover requested to see you so suddenly. But, you thought the handsome blond sounded uncharacteristically solemn so you agreed, which led to you sitting in the lounge of your dorm/home.

Maybe you misread the tone of his voice, because the man before you certainly didn’t seem solemn. Sitting next to you on the sofa, Vil watched you silently with his arms crossed and a leg over another.

“So, Vil…how was your da-”

“I know you’re hiding something from me, spudling.”

From your flinching and awkward avoidance to meet his eyes, Vil’s suspicions were correct. Upon closer inspection, Vil spotted small cuts littered about the skin of your fingers. His lilac eyes softened somewhat, but he kept his voice stern.

“I admire you for working so hard for yourself,” Vil made it clear to you as his eyes gazed towards the small cuts on your fingers, “But, I hope I’m not someone so incompetent that you can’t rely on me, especially when you’re needlessly hurting yourself so.”

In a smooth motion, Vil raised his manicured hand towards your face, gently grazing your cheek to keep your attention to him. “So spudling, no more secrets…what has gotten you so busy and reckless?”

The gig is up, you supposed. Sighing, you asked for your blond beloved to wait as you quickly rushed to your room. Upon your return, there was something in your hands to which you nervously handed over to your upperclassman.

It was a soft ribbon with a charm attached to its end. The deep purple ribbon was embroidered with what seemed to be golden leaves attached to vines twisting and curling across the length of the ribbon. The charm was of a crown, a cheap trinket that was clearly inspired by the Fairest Queen.

“I know how hard you’ve been working for classes so I made you a ribbon bookmark, something you could use while you study or something.” you explained, a little embarrassed. “But I haven’t been getting the pattern right, so I couldn’t give you until I got it perfect.”

Vil has been gifting you so much, from customized skincare products of his creation to matching outfits that enhanced your beautiful form. But it’s not just fancy clothes and luxurious products. Vil worries for you, takes care of you, and helps you to see the potential in yourself and to strive for it.

He gave you so much, so you wanted to give him something in return. Something thoughtful, something that shows how much you cherish Vil. More than for his looks, more than for his fame.

“This didn’t turn out as well as I wanted, but I’m working hard so I can make a new one and get the embroidery just right,” you assured him as you reached for the bookmark. “So, please be patient with me.”

But, Vil kept your gift out of your reach. He examined your handiwork with such focus, taking note of the effort in every stitch. It was by no means the level of professional, but he could see how you thought about him. From the color of the ribbon and thread to resemble his honorable dorm, to the consideration of his dedication to his studies rather than his looks. Your gift told him that you saw not Vil Schoenheit the actor, but Vil your hardworking boyfriend.

Seeing your nervous expression, Vil chuckled as he finally spoke, the cute bookmark firmly in his grasp. “If this is for me, I believe It’s for me to decide if it’s acceptable.”

“I-I guess?”

“Good, because I’ve decided to keep this.” Closing the gap, Vil placed a kiss upon your face, teasingly close to your lips. With a confident smile, Vil took pleasure with your burning cheeks.

“Thank you for the gift, my cute spudling.”

If it wasn’t already clear to everyone, Rook’s primary love language are words of affirmation. You could sneeze and suddenly he has written a sonnet about how beautiful the cringling of your face was.

I’m only slightly exaggerating.

Rook is by no means afraid to show his admiration for anyone, least of all his beloved. All of his words and actions are all done without an expectation of getting something in return.

But lately, you have become a bit of an enigma to him. You would spend hours upon hours with him, smiling and capturing pictures of the two of you. Other times, you would swiftly leave back to your dorm, excusing it as needing to study but you would vehemently decline his offer to help you.

Don’t get him wrong, watching your concentrated gaze is gorgeous, the way your heartbeat steadies and letting out soft but longer exhales as though you’re making decisions secretly in your mind. Rook couldn’t help but wonder, what is it that captures your attention that has you gazing off away from him?

“Rook, can I visit you today?”

Oh my, it has been a while since you last requested such a thing. Partially because you both knew his Housewarden would have a fit if he wasn’t aware. But eventually, Vil gave you special permission, mostly because Rook would have found a way to either sneak you into his room or he might sneak in the middle of night to see you. Vil knew Rook would never have gotten caught but he’d rather let you stay than have the migraine of a vice-housewarden breaking curfew and ruining his beauty sleep.

“Oui, mon trésor. I would request approval from my Housewarden immediately.” Rook could never deny you of anything, especially if he means you could have more time to admire you in the comfort of his room.

When night fell and the two of you were alone, sitting on the hunter’s bed. You were nervously wringing the handles of the bag in your hand. Doubts filled your head as you wondered if the gift was even slightly capable of living up to your boyfriend’s expectations, regardless of how silly that sounded.

You knew that whatever you would give him, Rook would love and appreciate it with full sincerity. But, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous. The gift should be considerate, you thought. Something that shows the love you had for the eccentric blond and his odd… let’s say interests.

You looked to said odd man, who’s piercing green eyes caught your gaze. Rook noticed your nervousness and the mysterious bag but said nothing. Instead, he kindly waited for you as you calmed yourself, soothing you with gentle touches to your knee. The huntsman can be a lot to some, but he’s also patient and so supportive.

Finding your strength, you presented your gift to Rook. Curiously, Rook took what seemed to be a journal from your hands. It was only when he opened the book to see its content was he surprised.

Him. He saw him in a multitude of photographs that decorated the pages of the journal, lined with cute frames and drawings. Some photos were of moments he remembered, such as days where you visited him during his club, cute dates around the town, or simply just moments of serenity between the two of you.

Rook felt his cheeks flush as his eyes caught the little captions written near the photographs, dates and words written in your handwriting.

“My handsome mad scientist” “His dashing profile is so cool” “His warm arms around me ♡”

“I realized the last time I came to your room that you only had photos of other people” you had glimpses of the wall of photos that consist of people he admired the most, you included. “So, I wanted to give you a photo album of what I find beautiful…you.”

Your boyfriend scared you as the young blond suddenly stood up from the bed, eyes sparkling with excitement as he scanned through the pages filled with memories. “Mon tresor, this is absolutely exquisite! To think my beloved has been watching me with such an unwavering, loving gaze fuels a pleasurable delight within me. Oh, très bien!”

But Rook worriedly commented on something notable. “But, there are still pages left unfilled. Were our moments too few and rare to fill the album?”

“It wasn’t that.” you rubbed your hands as you felt the nerves return. “I was hoping that we could fill the last few pages together…like a couple.”

It was then the hunter kneeled before you, his hands reaching out to grasp yours as he looked into your eyes with a special loving gaze only shown to you. You couldn’t tell if you were captured in his devoted gaze or if it was Rook that felt compelled to hold you, to comply with each and every one of your wishes.

“You speak as though I would dare to deny my precious beloved. I’d be honoured to make more memories with you, now and far however long you will have me.”

With constant surveillance from his wards *coughSebekcough*, Malleus’ moments with you were rare but still meaningful. Some nights, Malleus would wander near your dorm, especially when he noticed the lights of your room, signifying you’re there and awake. And like always, you would open your doors for him with a sweet laugh and inviting smile.

But lately, Malleus has seen that your bedroom lights would be dimmed, and that you would take notice of his presence slower than usual. Once or twice would be of no concern to him. But, as it slowly became a habit, he began to worry.

He spoke of his concerns with Lilia, perhaps in the older fae’s experience he came across a similar predicament amongst humans.

Only for the veteran fae to be of no help, instead chuckling in amusement before giving his young dragon a cryptic comment “You will understand soon enough. My, how you are in for a treat~”

Malleus chose not to question further, nor did he question the odd coincidence that you asked him to visit you that very night.

“I don’t suppose there is a hidden agenda to your invitation, dear?” As Malleus made himself comfortable in your guest room, he noticed some changes since his last visit.

Firstly, the furniture were arranged to be more spaced out, although the TV was still quite close. Then, there were almost an absurdly large amount of pillows and blankets, to the point that some have started to pooled onto the floor.

“Hmm, you sound as though I’m being suspicious” you laughed good-naturedly, “But I do have a surprise for tonight.”

Coming from the kitchen, you pulled out a stacked fairly large, cold container. With Malleus’ keen senses, he could pick up a very subtle sweet scent mixed with a chilly sensation, and a familiar delight came to mind.

“Ice-cream?”

You nodded. “Made by yours truly. I asked Lilia if there was a particular flavour you like, but he said you weren’t really picky.”

Unceremoniously, you sat down next to the tall fae before handing him an ice-cream container. “I was trying out different recipes and ideas all week, tweaking it along the way.”

The results of your work appear to be a multitude of flavours with varying degrees of sweetness. From classics such as chocolate and vanilla to more subtle sweet flavours such as coffee and pistachio. Some were swirls of combinations with fruits or nuts, and some were flavours unique to his hometown, which he imagined were hard to procure.

“I may not be able to shower you in riches, or protect you like your knights…” you gave an embarrassed smile and gaze at your silent companion. “But I could at least make you something sweet, just so you could smile even a little.”

Behind your nonchalant smile, you do feel anxiety swirling as you worry your efforts pale in comparison to the luxuries your powerful boyfriend owns. Malleus is a fae of the highest standing and thus, his actions have more impact than the average man or fae.

But…he was your amazing boyfriend nonetheless, who smiled softly back at you.

“Thank you, child of man. Knowing the effort my beloved has done for me alone, I shall cherish this feeling for centuries to come.”

Your cheeks burned slightly over the sincerity, so you quickly diverted the conversation. “W-Well, just giving someone ice-cream would be too boring, so I thought we could spend the night watching bad rom-com movies while we eat. Call it a human custom of sorts.”

“Is it imperative that the movies must be bad?”

You shrugged “Not really, but it usually is.”

Setting the movie up, you returned to the makeshift nest of comfy blankets and pillows with Malleus sitting by you. The confused fae watched as you handed him a tub of handmade ice-cream and a spoon before picking a container for yourself, a strange feeling of intimacy unfamiliar to him…but not an unpleasant one.

[glossykissies]

waaaait… our lovely reader being sexually frustrated and poor thing just wants to get off but it feels like someone is always 🙄 around 🙄 so one day she’s sitting on a blanket out picking berries in the field and the bushes are kind of tall…hmmMmm… cue the solo play!!! and SHANE happens to find her in the act and offer his ~services~

could TOTALLY see reader’s eyes rolling back and shane being like “s’right, sweetheart, look at the pretty clouds” while sending her right to heaven

you weren’t allowed to leave herschels land, that was the rule.

not just you, for everyone (everyone who rick and shane believed couldn’t handle themselves anyway.) you didn’t mind that. you felt safe here — even in the larger more far away fields that rick okay’d— though he told you to keep your wits about you incase there was a few lurkers. you’re sure you could handle your own, you’d even managed to kill a few when shane took you on that run to teach you how to shoot. shane…

you’d shyly told him you were heading out to pick berries. you were — honest, but you also had plans to spend some alone time, away from the group for a little while. you see, there wasn’t much privacy — even in your own tent, it always seemed like there was someone outside, rustling around, able to hear your every shift… made it difficult for you to relieve yourself.

shane was partially the reason your body required any relief in the first place. you’re sure you couldn’t help it, he was a strong, capable and protective man, which naturally ignited something within you. you thought about him as you placed the berries in your basket, gently biting your lip as you think of the way he was marching around today with his shirt unbuttoned, skin beneath sheened with late summer sweat.

you cut the berry picking short when you spot a patch of grass that looked perfect to lounge in. decorated with plush grass and vibrant flowers that looked untouched by the atrocities of the world. best of all, a wall of tall grass surrounded it, giving you a sense of privacy and protection. couldn’t hurt to use this space for your benefit.

you lay your blanket down, along with your basket and supplies before looking around. it seemed that there was no one around for miles to come, for once creating a sense of excitement and mischief in the pit of your stomach, instead of dread.

you settle, folding up your dainty cardigan and placing it behind your head to use as a makeshift pillow as you lay back, the afternoon sun warming your body. you take the leap and kick your panties off from beneath your flowy white sundress, leaving them to hang off your ankle as you suck in a long, relaxed inhale before flowering out your legs, lifting the dress.

it was to no surprise that you were already wet, with how pent up you’d been lately and how much you’d been shamefully fantasising about the more reckless leader of the group — your poor pussy was just crying out to be touched. a hand slithers down, tickling your hip bones as you try to push through the impatience to draw this out. teasing yourself doesn’t last long, because soon — you’re pawing at your clit, bucking your hips into your hand beneath the sun.

you must’ve been letting out the softest whimpers and cries, panting up towards the sky as you chase that well deserved orgasm you needed. it stole all your focus, knocked your guard straight down — so thank god when you’d missed the sound of rustling grass, it hadn’t been a walker… instead, shane.

you had no idea how long he’d been watching you, how much he’d seen— but the man clearing his throat was enough to have you yanking your dress down and scrambling to sit up in your own juice on the blanket, panting up at him with embarrassed doe eyes.

“shouldn’t be out this far by y’self.” shane scolds, hands on his hips as he looks around as if trying to avoid your eye. you were mortified, not only had shane caught you touching yourself, but he was pretending it didn’t happen.

you blink at him, still recovering as you gather your words for a moment — trying desperately to get your brain to cooperate when it had been a warm, hazy mush just seconds before.

“you… i told you this morning, thought it was okay.” you peer up at him apologetically, his broad frame blocking the sunlight from shining directly into your eyes.

“yeah, guess i’d been distracted.” he hooks his thumbs into his belt loops, and the two of you stare eachother down for what feels like a minute. unable to take his gaze that you just couldn’t read, you awkwardly make a move to get up and gather your things, stare falling to your panties still hooked around one ankle, wondering if it’s best to quickly pull them up infront of him and further the embarrassment or kick them off all together and shove them in your bag like a freak.

luckily, shane speaks up. “nah nah, you ain’t gotta go no where now. m’here with you.” he holds out a hand, relaxed as he strolls closer, checking out the little area you’d made yourself. his eyes linger on the panties around your ankles and you swear he licks his lips.

“shane.” you look up at him again, all scorned and innocent — which unbeknownst to you in this moment was really testing him.

“yeah, sweetheart.” he nods.

“how much did you see?” your furrowed brows create a line between them and it takes the man everything not to grin— not expecting for you to be the one to bring it up so soon. no, he was expecting to work it out of you a little.

shane runs a hand over his head as he walks closer to your blanket, like he was unsure of what to do with himself.

“look, wantin’ to… havin’ those feelings ain’t nothing to be ashamed of… yeah? we all do it. we all get a little… pen’ up.” his voice drops an octave in seriousness as he lowers into a squat, brows raised like he was focused on talking to you about gun safety or something. “long as you got what you needed—”

“i didn’t. i was close… i think.” you interrupt him with a slight shake of your head and he’s licking his lips again, a hand running over his jaw. there’s a silence that borders on awkward before he speaks up again.

“we all… look out for each other in this camp, don’t we?” he speaks, settling on his ass as he stares over the fields. you look at him, never quite sure of where his stories were going. “we don’t owe eachother nothin’ but … but it’s the little things that matter, ain’t it? you scratch my back, i scratch yours. makes stickin’ together worthwhile.” he sniffs, staring ahead pensively before peering over at you, an unmistakable glint of mischief in his expression.

“what are you saying?” you mutter. you knew what he was offering, you just couldn’t quite believe it.

“… i’ll put it bluntly and— and you can call me a dirty old bastard n’walk away now i’ll accept that but…” shane thinks for a moment before shuffling closer to you, looking you over. you stare back, which he takes as permission to run a thumb over your jaw, expression getting a little more serious. “i’m thinkin’ i help you out. s’nice n’ private out here… little more roomy than my tent. i’m… i’m happy to rub that lil’clit ‘til you’re… heh, until you’re making a mess in the palm a’my hand.” he speaks honestly and your chest begins to noticeably rise and fall with the pants of arousal that you couldn’t contain.

as he speaks, his thumb drags over your bottom lip, before his hand lowers bit by bit to caress your delicate throat gently. your eyes flutter, cunt gushing. “i don’t know if you noticed me watchin’ you… seein’ you look at me the way you do. i might be goin’ off a hunch here but i’d even go as far as to say you’re happy i caught you touchin’ yourself out here… you wanted it to be me…” the gravel of his voice dips into a near whisper and his eyes are nearly pitch black even in the blazing sun as they stare into yours. you didn’t have the words.

not until you were laying with your back to his chest with your legs fanned out anyway, then you got a little more verbose. shane had gotten real busy, from massaging your clit to having two thick fingers stuffed inside, curling upwards to stroke your walls, lips to your ear.

“yeah i know. ‘what you wanted huh? bet it wasn’t my fingers you was thinkin’ bout… dirty little girl like you, hah— was my cock. weren’t it.” you don’t have to answer, because your pussy squeezes him at the knuckle. “yeaaah. saw you lookin’ sweetheart you think i didn’t?”

“sh—shane, can’t do it— s’too much!” you were sweaty and overstimulated and yet you couldn’t stop bucking your hips into his hand.

“that right.” he deadpans, wetting his lips. “nah. you gonna cum for me. you’re gonna give me that.” he demands.

you could never say no to shane.

as you feel it building, what were once soft whimpers and whines are now desperate cries growing louder and louder. shane presses his lips together, because god — he really wanted to hear them. but for your safety, and his reputation at the camp, he had to act.

you weren’t too sure when shane had swiped the cotton white panties from around your ankle, but all of sudden with his free hand, he’s stuffing them into your mouth, nearly gagging you with the silencing act. “shh—shh—shh. you hush up now.” he growls passionately through grit teeth, holding you still when your instinct is to fight it.

you accept your fate of having your own panties between your teeth as you focus on the pleasure shane brings you, eyes fluttering as they threaten to roll back, whines now masked by the fabric. “yeah, yeah tha’s a good girl you take it. think i’mma have to keep these panties as a reward f’bein’ so damn nice to you, what do you say? take ‘em to my tent, jerk myself raw in’em. you like that sweetheart? that gonna make you cum on these fingers?” he seems to get more passionate the closer you get until all you hear is white noise, like a gun had blasted off too close to your ears. the world becomes blood red from the sight of the sun behind your eyelids. all you know is pleasure.

all you know, is shane.

[suempu]

Imagine joining a party(specifically Laios's. To be funny) after Thistle starts taking a liking to you. He's still in the faze where he's trying to convince himself that he doesn't like that much, so he lets you roam farther. Ya'know, to prove that he totally doesn't want you to stay with him always and forever. You can't though, and he still watches you.

This turns out to be a problem when Thistle goes to take care of the problem group, and there you are! Frolicking with people killing of his monsters! Thistle's about to pop a blood vessel.

I just think these kinds of scenarios are funny :> I hope you enjoy them too.

oh that man is def biting his fingers and grinding his teeth in frustration lmao

he goes “why did it have to be you? you just HAD to join the party that i’m trying to kill and sabotage so bad, huh” in his head

after the whole falin resurrection thing and the group falls into the hole in the dungeon, he purposely leaves you out of it.

he can’t let the opportunity to snatch you pass up, so he grabs your body after knocking you out.

while your party was with the orcs, you were already on the way to his cottage. perched on falin’s dragon body, he looks at your unconscious face with a bit of a scowl.

he’s not proud of himself. you make him do reckless shit and he hates it.

bro def threw a fit and scolded himself during the ride.

i enjoyed this scenario anon, thanks for feeding my thistle brainrot lol

[syluss-karaoke-teacher]

Hello first timer here. May I please request for The 4 LADS with a selective mute MC wherein MC finally says their names for the first time ever

Hello to my first ever request!! ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ Very interesting, I have never tried this one before! I did some research and hope I can do it justice ^^

HCs under the cut for Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus

Content: SFW, fluff, mild canon spoilers in Zayne's part (main storyline released thus far), reader is MC, gender neutral MC, use of petnames for MC, selective mutism (which also means a slight canon divergence), early stages of a romantic relationship, no "y/n"

Sylus's is a bit different as I think his and MC's relationship would look the most different in the early stages since there's the whole "can't resonate with you if I despite you" angle, which wouldn't at the very least be *helped* by MC's condition pfft.

If you see any mistakes contradicting the above info, or if you find this disrespectful in any way, please let me know!

LADS LIs with a selectively mute MC

Xavier

Xavier, who isn't very talkative himself, falls in sync with you quite fast after you meet. At first you are wary of his intense gaze and the extended silence it carries as he observes you from a comfortable distance. But one day, you begin to look back at him, if only out of defiance, and that's when you start noticing.

Small head movements to question or to confirm, taps on the table and later on your arm or shoulder. Text messages with lots of emojis, shared playlists for different moods. And if all else fails, a gentle squeeze of your hand, to let your Evol do the talking for you.

He has been listening all along.

In comes one of those days. The mission goes well, but you are left dead tired, barely able to make it to your apartment. Xavier escorts you home, and as he wishes you goodnight, you grab his sleeve. Whatever emotion is showing on your face is enough to make him melt, and he turns back around, petting your hair.

"Got it, got it," he chuckles and lets himself be led to the couch, where you snuggle against him after putting on a random cartoon on the TV.

He is warm, and his hoodie is soft against your cheek. You listen to his slowing heartbeats as his eyelids begin to droop, his arm a solid anchor around your shoulders. At that moment you realize that this is how you want all of your missions to end: in this safe, comforting warmth.

"Xavier?" you call out, twiddling with the pullstrings of his hoodie. He stirs against you and lets out a questioning hum. You lift your head to look him in the eyes, and see them shining with something you dare to hope is adoration. He tightens his arm around you and patiently waits.

"Thank you," you finally decide to tell him, knowing that he knows it's about much more than today's mission.

"Think nothing of it, starlight," he murmurs and rests his forehead against yours.

Zayne

You forgot that Zayne knows. Of course he knows, that man doesn't forget anything, annoying as it may be sometimes. During your first appointment with him you try to bring it up, hoping that your old familiarity with him would help ease the tension. It doesn't, and in the end you have to resort to gesturing at your chart, cheeks burning in humiliation.

"I remember," Zayne tells you, his voice quiet, "don't worry about it. Just find a way that's comfortable for you."

On a rational level, it makes sense. He is a dedicated, renowned doctor who must have had first-hand experience with others like you beforehand. But on an emotional level you are on your toes for a good while. Zayne has a tendency to scold you about your heart condition, your recklessness on missions, your bad eating and sleeping habits. You just kind of... assume that this would be next on the list.

But the insistence never comes. Instead, there is a notepad and and a pen on his desk one day. The pen has a tiny snowglobe at the end that glitters prettily when you write with it. Zayne makes no mention of it when you come in, nor when you pick the pen up and start writing.

Afterwards you take that notepad everywhere you go with him. You write down your comments to him, your observations of the world around you, your feelings that are too precious to send him over text messages. You revel in the tiny upwards curl of his lips when he reads everything over, the hint of mirth in his hazel eyes that makes your heart flutter.

"Care to show me what you have written today?" he asks you one night as he is driving you back home from a restaurant. The car is standing still in traffic, and you are finishing your notes on that night's menu selection (the chocolate pudding had been especially delicious). You lean back on the passenger seat and look at his handsome profile, smiling to yourself.

"No, but I can tell you, Dr. Zayne."

You see his eyes widen in surprise and he glances at you, but before he can reply the traffic lurches forward. Zayne returns his eyes on the road, and reaches out to grab your hand in his. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles and your stomach does small flips as you see him smile.

"I'd love that."

Rafayel

"Not one to talk? That's okay cutie, I can manage for the both of us."

And that he does. At first you aren't sure if the eccentric artist even wants or needs you to talk; Rafayel can talk circles around just about anyone, rightfully smug about his captivating voice and demeanor. You find yourself being envious of his natural charm, sure that you could hardly measure up to him in this regard.

But the more you spend time with him, the more you observe his mannerisms when he talks to you (yes, to you, not just at you): the glances over his shoulder, his body turning towards you as his hands punctuate his speech. The way he cocks his head to the side and studies your face with that easy smile on his lips, reading your expressions and hums as he does. Resting his fingertips on the pulse point of your wrist and gently tucking your hair behind your ear as you fight a petulant blush under his curious eyes.

Bodyguard, bah. You aren't sure Rafayel really knows, or cares, what that job actually entails. Then again, it's not like you had to stay, yet you did. There is something mesmerizing about Rafayel, his eyes as deep as the oceans and brilliant as the galaxies, and in between scoffing at his antics or bickering with him through texts, you find yourself being pulled in further and further as if lured by a siren song.

"Do you want to learn how to paint, sunshine?"

This time he doesn't give even the slightest pretense for the date. You have long ceased to care, feeling warm but bold standing in his studio as he guides the brush in your hand across the canvas. It's raining outside, the pitter patter mixing in with the gentle swishing of your brush and his bare feet padding against the tile floor. Time seems to fly by as you recreate the azure sea in front of you.

As the rain starts to ease down and the clouds part just enough for you to see the waves again, you step in front of the floor-length window and gaze out. As you watch swaying seas, your eyes suddenly widen.

"Rafayel, come look! Dolphins!"

You don't have time to be surprised by your own reaction as he strides next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leans his chin on your shoulder, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile.

"Now isn't that a nice surprise," he says, "I wouldn't mind this happening again."

You nod, the words failing you once more, but he is so close he must feel your answer in your heartbeat.

Sylus

If Sylus could take it back, he would. He would destroy planets and steal stars to redo your first meeting. He wouldn't assume anything, wouldn't take out his frustrations on you, wouldn't push and push until the truth screams in his face.

Because your eyes remain vacant of any recognition, any warmth he grew to know so long ago, and he only made it worse: he forced your voice out of your mind when your mouth refused to cooperate. He took it as defiance, a personal challenge, when it was anything but. It took an outsider to tell him to stop hounding you, and he hasn't been able to forget since.

Through what can only be described as trials you finally make it to the auction and beyond, and with Sylus's help you get your hands on the Aether Core. He does not know what you see in the vision the Deepspace Tunnel shows you, but whatever it is, it creates an opening. It lets you resonate with him, lower your guard and accept his help. And Sylus holds onto that chance like a drowning man.

From then on out, every day is dedicated to making up to you. Even if his words are rough, there is now softness lacing his features whenever he looks at you. Tenderness, the origin of which you do not recognize, and yearning that makes it hard to stay mad at him.

He may not beg for forgiveness out loud, but it is there in every question, every request, every wish.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight, sweetie?"

I'm sorry I treated you like that. I didn't realize. I should have.

"Mephisto brought you two necklaces. Show him which one you prefer."

I'm sorry I expected more than you could possibly offer. It isn't your fault you don't remember.

"Text me when you get home. The roads are slippery today."

I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable.

If you only knew how I adored you, little dove.

Your phone plays a familiar tune and you pick it up to see a video call coming from Sylus. It has become a habit of his whenever you are back in Linkon. He tells you he doesn't mind to be the one talking: he just wants to see your face.

"Hello sweetie, thank you for picking up. I called to say I'm sorry for missing our movie night. Some fool tried to blow up the armory in the north and I had to oversee the clean up."

You roll your eyes and sigh in mock exasperation. Sylus smiles back at you.

"I promise to make it up to you. Just tell me what you'd like."

"Anything we do together is fine, Sylus," you tell him and watch in mild amusement as his eyebrows raise and mouth freezes mid-sentence. "And stop... stop apologizing so much. Okay?"

It's not often the leader of Onychinus is rendered speechless, and you can't help a small giggle escaping your lips. It is your time to adore him, just for a moment.

[kiame-sama]

Tender Love and Care- (Yandere!Miguel x sick!reader)

Warnings; reader is bed bound by illness, helplessness, obsessive miguel, mention of kidnapping, yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, lovesick yandere, semi-soft miguel, scolding, confusion, fever, mention of death, possessive behavior, slight objectification,

~~~~~~~~

"Reckless and stupid, that's all it was! Do you not understand how stupid it was? Truly? You could have caused the multiverse to completely collapse!"

Miguel hissed as he paced in front of the three most recent spider-people to let him down. He thought that they would be able to handle a simple mission, but it was clear that he put far too much faith in those standing before him. Keeping the multiverse from collapsing was no easy feat, but so far it seemed like Miguel was the only one holding things together.

"But, Sir, the parameters of the mission were to deal with the anomalies."

"And did you deal with them? No! Ay, madre de Dios, now Noir and Spider-punk have to deal with the extras you all missed. If I have to step in again on another botched mission-"

The soft sound of coughing made Miguel fall silent, his head turning to the door at the back of his office where his most treasured possession lay. A soft whimper and croaking noise made his brow furrow in worry. The other spider-people standing at attention exchanged a look of confusion before his attention snapped back to them.

"Do better next time or there won't be a next time. Dismissed."

He held his stony demeanor for a moment longer as they shuffled out of his office with their heads bowed low, red eyes trailing the group with precision. The coughing sound came again, this time closer than before. Low ragged breaths were being gasped down as the raspy sound of labored lungs fought to inflate.

"Miguel..?"

"(Y/n)," the dark haired man turned on his heel and approached the now open back door, "you should be in bed resting."

Despite their sallow and sunken features, he still found his dearest to be the most beautiful person he had ever seen. It didn't matter how many universes he had to look through before he found them again, he was going to keep this version alive. Of course, the constant canon events were trying rather hard to take them away, but he wouldn't let that happen.

The current problem was a rather debilitating illness that wracked the body and lungs of his beloved, leaving them gasping for every breath. Each cough struck his heart with pain as Miguel heard the following whimpers that came with any fit. If he could only lift away the illness that plagued his dearest, he would happily do so. However, all he could do for them at this point was keep them comfortable and hope their immune system could fight off the worst of the virus they were plagued with.

"Come on, you need your rest."

They didn't argue or fight against his gentle touch as he herded them back towards the large bed in the room. Though the room had once been for Miguel alone, it was now less sparsely decorated and seemed to have a bit more life to it thanks to the new life he felt he received from his darling. Miguel was careful to keep an eye out for any sign of stumbling or struggling so he could catch his darling before they had a chance to fall.

As their foot caught on the corner of a carpet, he quickly caught them in his arms. He may not have the spider sense like many others did, but he was no less observant of his surroundings. His muscled arms were hardened after years of training and fighting, so lifting his darling the rest of the way into the bed was an easy task for Miguel.

The other spider people knew Miguel had someone in his room, though they didn't know the true origin of how that person came to reside in the room. Not that Miguel would tell them, but he had scoured the many universes for any incarnation of his beloved and only found them after months of searching. They were laying in bed, rendered helpless by the pandemic illness that consumed that universe. He couldn't just leave them laying there without any help or defense.

His universe had already mostly eradicated the virus in question, so he knew they would be better off with him instead of in their dying universe riddled with the aggressive virus. Sure, he hadn't exactly asked if he could take them away, but in their delirium they weren't exactly able to deny thier savior anyway.

Once he got them back to his home, he endeavored to keep them safe and sequestered until the virus passed. Lyla was both supportive and judgemental of Miguel taking and keeping his beloved from their universe, she also knew how it would destroy Miguel to lose them again. She brushed off any questions the other spider-people asked her and simply said Miguel was allowed to keep his personal life away from his work life.

"Miguel..."

The hoarse whine of his dearest drew him back to the present as he finished tucking them into bed, resting a cool cloth over their forehead. They rest their cheek against his hand, nuzzling into his touch affectionately as they stared up at him with a kind of feverish delusion. He let the small smile tug at the corner of his lips as he stared lovingly at his darling.

"Rest, I'll wake you up later with food, alright?"

"M'kay..."

"Te amo, (y/n)."

[almond-tofuuu]

Hi I see you're opening request, so I'm here to ask for one. Thank you so much!

Plot: Zayne anger and his punishment when he find out you lied to him and get yourself in dangerous.

anon are you a mind reader?! 👀 bc I've had a draft of this sat in my wip folder for ages!!!

Hope you enjoy!! 💕

Sorry isn't enough...

Zayne x reader

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, no comfort, Zayne is mad (and possibly ooc)

Might do a part 2 (with a happy ending as an apology for this)

Zayne doesn't yell. In fact, in all the time you'd known him you couldn't remember ever seeing him lose his temper. Sure he got annoyed with you sometimes, mainly when you ignored his advice or turned up at the hospital with yet another injury, but it never boiled over into anger. He'd scold you like a child, giving the occasional icy glare, but nothing more. So when you limped into his office today, an hour late for your appointment and caked in dirt and dried blood, you were prepared to receive another lecture about safety from your primary care physician.

The minute you opened the door and took the first unsteady step into his office, you knew something was off. The air held an icy chill, causing a shiver to run down your spine, the tension increasing with every step. You could feel the pressure of Zayne's eyes on you as you approached his desk, piercing green gaze scrutinising every aspect of your appearance, taking note of every scrape and bruise, every smudge of blood that stained your skin and clothes.

"You're late." Emotionless and cold, his voice shattered the uncomfortable silence that had been present since you entered his office. Swallowing thickly, you finally meet his eyes, and immediately regret it. His expression is hard, brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes which usually hold a tenderness whenever he looks at you are dark, and swirling with a storm of fury. Zayne is pissed.

Opening your mouth, the apology on the tip of your tongue quickly dies at the sound of Zayne's exasperated sigh. "If you're planning on apologising I'd suggest you save your breath. I have neither the time nor the patience to listen to whatever feeble excuses you plan on giving." His harsh tone hits you like an avalanche, burying you in the disappointment that is practically radiating from him. "I've warned you time and time again to be careful, to prioritise your safety and yet you seem determined not to listen. I've lost count of how many times you've limped into my office. You refuse to listen to my advice yet you come to me whenever your recklessness results in another injury. Tell me, do you insist on continuing this foolish behaviour until it undoubtedly causes your death?!"

A lump forms in your throat, eyes fixed on the floor as you desperately try to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Every cruel word Zayne seethes is another knife to your heart, cutting deep and carving themselves into your flesh. And despite your best efforts, you can't stop the choked sob that escapes your lips. Because it hurts. Seeing the man who has always treated you so gently fuming with rage, steely glare freezing you where you stand, forcing you to endure the brunt of his anger. His words melt together, flooding your mind and making your ears ring as they echo on repeat inside your head. You're so overwhelmed by the crushing weight of his disappointment that you don't even realise you're crying until a cold hand touches your cheek, thumb wiping away a single tear. His breath fans your face as he exhales a tired sigh, "come here, let me see your wounds" his voice is softer now, having lost its previous venom but his outburst has left a sour taste in your mouth. You pull away from his touch, shaking your head slightly as you wipe away the tears that stain your cheeks.

"I can take care of it myself...I wouldn't want to inconvenience you any further." You utter, keeping your voice steady and void of emotion. "Don't worry, you won't have to deal with my reckless behaviour anymore. Goodbye, Dr Zayne." Turning away from him you quickly make your way out of his office, ignoring the calls of your name, determined not to let him see you fall apart completely. With each step you can feel your heart breaking more, bleeding out and flooding your chest with every crushing word Zayne spat at you. You're not sure where you're heading, vision blurring with tears, you just know that the last place you want to be is with Zayne.

[midnightshindig]

Okay, so... Since you're practically the saviour of Cecil fans, could I request a cecil x reader where reader is being reckless and Cecil is frustrated because he's worried?

Of course, feel free not to, I love your work anyways! Thank you for sharing your work, have a wonderful week ❤️

psshhh daw shucks, me? Savior of the Cecil fans? How kind <3

as always, fic under the cut!

You’re a b tier superhero, good for saving major cities from minor threats, you do a great job of keeping annual bank robberies down

buutttt you’re not exactly the first person they call when there’s an alien invasion

Your partner, Cecil Stedman, knows this

What he doesn’t know is that you’re best friends with Black Samson, and have convinced him to let you know when the Guardians go on a mission

This is how you end up crashing a fight between the Guardians and some vague nondescript alien invaders

Your flying is all the best yet, and you come tumbling and crashing through the swarms of large grey aliens

rolling like a bowling ball knocking them down until you land in the middle of their troops

gulp. uh oh.

meanwhile, Cecil is screaming at you over your earpiece

you assume, at least, you turned it off a while ago, knowing he wouldn’t want you on this mission

but you can HELP the guardians, shouldn’t you?

speaking of, Monster Girl fights her way through the aliens to scoop you up under her giant green arm, before returning to the rest of the team

”Cecil’s mad, Y/n, like- ow my head hurts from the yelling bad!” She’s not mad at you, but you can imagine the toll having Cecil in your head takes, especially while fighting for your life

”It’s okay, Monster Girl! I’m here to help!” You grinned, giving her a sturdy thumbs up and wriggling free of her grasp

She Narrows her eyes incredulously

“Yeahhh I dunno about that..”

But you’re already gone, throwing yourself back into the fight- and to your credit- you get down a good twenty aliens or so before being overtaken

once again, and I can’t stress enough how funny this is in retrospect, hahaha isn’t it funny Cecil- Cecil please laugh I promise it’s funny in retrospect- but you have to get rescued again, this time by Rex Splode

hes not having your shit

”Y/n I swear to fucking GOD- you’re putting us all in danger, go. The FUCK. Home!”

swallowing your pride, you turn back on your ear piece and fly off, getting lectured the entire time

“what the hell were you thinking?! Cecil pinches his temple, pacing back and forth

“I’m not a child, Cecil, I don’t need you to scold me for doing my job.”

”You job-“ he sighs, pausing to collect himself “Y/n your job is to go where I tell you and fight what I tell you. Not interrupt guardian business and almost get KILLED.”

If you didn’t feel scolded before, shrinking in your seat, you certainly do now

”I’m sorryy, but I know I can be more useful-“

”You’re useful as long as you’re alive.” He bites back, folding his arms and giving you that unimpressed glare reserved for when teenagers misbehave. But you’re in your thirties

man you fucked up.

You slink into your chair a little more

“ugh…” he continues to pace, processing everything over the last few hours

you stand up, walking over to him and placing an open hand on his shoulder

”Cecil… I’m sorry” your voice is soft and shaky, eyebrows knitted up and eyes glassy with forming tears

he Looks at you, oh he can’t stay mad at you

not when he’s doing this just to keep you safe

He lets out a deep, frustrated groan, before opening a single arm and pulling you to his chest by the back of the neck

“😒”

Its okay though because he cares about you

”Y/n, promise me you’re going to stop doing stupid stuff like that. I give you the toughest missions I know you can handle. But-“ he sighs “If you want to get reassessed, I’ll tell Donald to get the stuff ready.”

your eyes shine, and you smile up at him “Id like that a lot”

a beat of silence between you two

”I’m sorry for scaring you today, Cecil.”

He pulls you a little closer, just enough to kiss the top of your head

”Yeah yeah, don’t do it again. You gave me and half the analysis department a god damned heart attack.”

under his nagging and frustrations an undercurrent of care, its audible in his tone

You Pull him back for a real kiss, resting your foreheads together after pulling away “I’ll be safer from now on.”

the moment passes, and you grab his hand “Now come on I wanna see how much stronger I am since the last time we did this!” and off you go, to get reassessed

[mya-valentine]

Hey 👋🏽 first off, I’m super grateful for that hooves request you did for me last year :> Second, I was wondering if we could have some headcanons for Iida with a friend who’s almost his complete opposite?

Nature based quirk, very carefree stick-it-to-the-man wild child, and grew up in a more rural area in a working class family. And yet somehow when they meet at UA (reader is in general studies) they just click despite being so different.

thank you 🌿🍄

Headcanon: Iida with a Best Friend That's his Opposite

A/N: I enjoyed this a lot

When they first meet, Iida doesn’t quite know what to make of them. They’re everything he’s not—messy, wild, completely unbothered by rules, and always ready to challenge authority. Meanwhile, he’s rigid, disciplined, and deeply respectful of structure.

They bump into each other (probably literally) in the hallways of UA, where Iida is of course lecturing someone about school rules, and his soon-to-be-best-friend is in the middle of breaking about five of them.

“You’re not supposed to be here during class hours!”

“Yeah, and you’re not supposed to be this uptight. Guess we both got problems, huh?”

They expect him to be just another stuck-up, holier-than-thou hero student, but instead of writing them off completely, Iida actually takes the time to understand why they’re the way they are.

Iida thrives in structure and rules, while his best friend is all about breaking them. Despite that, they manage to balance each other out in the weirdest way.

Iida wakes up at the crack of dawn, follows a strict schedule, and sticks to a routine. His friend, on the other hand, wakes up whenever, goes with the flow, and somehow never actually gets in trouble for slacking off (too much).

The one thing they have in common? Loyalty. They may approach life differently, but they’ll throw hands for each other without hesitation.

His friend has a nature-based quirk, which makes them fluid, adaptable, and unpredictable—pretty much the opposite of Iida’s straightforward, high-speed combat style.

While Iida relies on calculated movements and precision, his friend is all about improvisation. They never fight the same way twice, using vines, roots, or even just the terrain to their advantage.

Their sparring sessions are hilarious to watch. Iida is trying to keep it structured, running drills and focusing on form, while his friend is like, “Nah, man, just feel it.”

Iida tries (and fails) to make them follow the rules. He’s constantly reminding them to wear the proper UA uniform; "Button up your shirt! And where are your shoes?! You must wear the appropriate footwear!", but at some point, he just gives up and lets them be.

In return, his friend drags him into things he never would’ve done otherwise—sneaking out onto the school rooftop, climbing trees instead of using the stairs, and pulling pranks on some of the stricter teachers (though, let’s be real, Iida does not approve of that last one).

He, in turn, teaches them the value of discipline. They start to begrudgingly respect his work ethic, and while they’ll never be as structured as him, they do try a little harder with their studies (even if they act like it’s just to get him off their back).

Iida is, of course, the ultimate mom friend. He reminds them to eat proper meals, scolds them for reckless behavior, and always has a first-aid kit ready.

Meanwhile, they’re the type to drag Iida into stupid situations just to “loosen him up.” "You don’t have to be responsible 24/7, man. Live a little.”

If they ever get injured doing something dumb, Iida has so many words for them—but underneath it all, he’s genuinely worried.

On the flip side, when Iida gets too worked up (which happens often), his friend is the first one to pull him out of his own head. “Dude. Breathe. The world’s not gonna end if you take a break for five minutes.”

Iida will definitely drop everything and sprint to their side if they’re in danger.

Even though they act like they don’t care about authority, Iida is their authority. If he tells them something is a bad idea, they actually listen (most of the time).

Their loyalty to each other is unshakable. If someone disrespects Iida, his friend is already ready to throw hands. "Only I get to call him uptight. You? You can shut up.”

If Iida ever has doubts about himself as a hero, they’re the first to remind him that he’s more than just rules and discipline—that he’s kind, determined, and genuinely cares about people.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Star Wars request! Could I have one where anakin has a Padawan only a couple years younger than him and he’s secretly in love with her and is fiercely protective to the point that obi-wan points it out regularly and one night after being flirted with by a fellow student, anakin goes a little too far and ends up confessing his feelings for her in private? Lots of fluff please thanks 😊

Word count: 1.8 K.

From the start, you were opposed to being Anakin’s Padawan for two reasons: first, he was a rule- breaker, and second, he was very handsome. You were afraid that you might develop feelings for him- attachment, which was forbidden for a Jedi. However, since it was the Council’s decision, you couldn’t object. What would you even tell them?

Your fear became reality, but you convinced yourself that you could control your emotions- or so you thought.

It didn’t help that he was always so protective of you; some would even say overprotective. In a way, you enjoyed it, but on the other hand, it felt like he was keeping you from reaching your full potential. This led to many arguments between the two of you.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan was on your side most of the time, telling Anakin that he needed to have faith in you, that letting you take risks and go on missions alone was the only way for you to improve and eventually become a Jedi knight.

Anakin would eventually let you go on missions alone, but the ones he chose were usually safe. There were a few exceptions, but these were typically the Council’s orders. 

When you returned, he’d often reprimand you for getting injured, giving you a lecture about how you should be more careful. It always ended with him saying this was why he didn’t like sending you on such missions. This was rich, coming from him-  the most reckless person you’d ever met.

What you didn’t understand was why he acted this way with you. He didn’t treat anyone else like this- not with his former Master, his friends, or his troops.

Then, one night, everything became clear.

You were returning from a dangerous mission on one of the Outer Rim planets. The mission had been a success, but you were seriously injured while defending your men. 

The minute the ship landed, Anakin rushed to check on you, as he always did. But this time, you weren’t there to greet him. Instead, it was one of your men. When he didn’t see you, his heart sank.

“Where is she?” Anakin demanded, anger bubbling beneath the surface.

“The infirmary, she’s-“.

Before the poor man could finish his sentence, Anakin pushed past him, making his way to you. He was furious- angry at your men for failing to protect you, at you for putting yourself in danger, and at himself for allowing this to happen.

But all that anger evaporated the moment he saw you unconscious in the infirmary, your face covered in bruises and cuts. His anger was replaced by worry and fear of losing you.

“How is she?” Anakin asked the medical droid.

“She sustained serious injuries, but she’s doing much better now. I recommend rest and a few days away from missions requiring heavy physical activity”.

He sat quietly at the edge of your bed, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. He was about to reach for your hand when your eyes fluttered open.

“Master?” Your vision was still a bit blurry.

“I’m here”.

You examined your surroundings, slowly remembering where you were. Realizing the situation, your eyes widened. You knew you were in a lot of trouble “Master, I can explain-“.

“Rest now. We’ll talk later” Anakin said, sensing your panic. As much as he wanted to scold you and know exactly what happened, now was not the time.

The following evening, you were almost fully recovered when a fellow Jedi friend invited you to celebrate your victory at a cantina. Needing to relax after such a grueling mission, you agreed.

Anakin went to check on you, but when you weren’t in the infirmary and your commlink was turned off, his frustration grew. He searched for you everywhere, his patience wearing thin. When one of your fellow Jedi sensed his distress and approached him, Anakin asked about your whereabouts.

Upon hearing you were at the cantina, his heart skipped a beat. Fearing the worst, he rushed there, and when he found you, his fears weren’t entirely unfounded.

You were on the dance floor with a couple other Padawans, one of whom was shamelessly flirting with you. You spoke to him kindly, which Anakin immediately misinterpreted as flirting. Seeing you laughing and being friendly with the Padawan was the last straw.

He strode toward you, gripping your wrist as he leaned in “Can I speak to you in private?”.

“Yes, Master. But can’t it wait until tomorrow?” you pleaded.

“Now, Y/n” he ordered.

“Alright, alright”.

He led the way out of the cantina, his grip on your wrist tight enough that it started to hurt.

“Slow down, Anakin. You’re hurting me”.

Anakin stopped, his eyes dropping to your wrist. He immediately let go, the fear of having hurt you flashing across his face. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain.

“Get in the speeder” he commanded.

You complied, knowing better than to argue with him when he was like this, though his sudden aggression confused you.

The ride back to the temple was silent. Once you arrived, he led you into the temple and straight to his private quarters. Realizing where you were, you hesitated- this was the first time you’d been in his room.

“Come in and close the door behind you” he said, his voice stern but tinged with something softer. A mix of thrill and nervousness filled you as you shut the door and turned to face him. You could sense there was more than anger in his emotions- something deeper, familiar.

“Master, if this is about what happened on the mis-”.

“It’s not” he interrupted. There was a long, awkward silence as he seemed to wrestle with what he wanted to say,

“Then what is it about?” you asked, stepping closer, narrowing the distance between you.

“It’s about you. How reckless you are. You were seriously injured just a day ago, and now you’re out celebrating like nothing happened” he began, struggling to keep his anger in check.

“The recklessness, I learned from you, Master. We won- it was hard, but we made it. So yeah, celebrating seemed like a good idea”.

“Well, it’s not. You should be resting. And not everything I do is something you should be doing too” his voice started rising.

“That’s not fair. You never rest. I have learned so much from you, I’ve become a better fighter because of you. And now what? You’re mad because I’ve taken risks, just like you always do?”.

“It’s different for me” he snapped, stepping closer, his voice harsh now “I can handle the risks. You… you shouldn’t have to”.

“Why? Because I’m not as strong as you?” you glared at him, refusing to back down.

“No! Because I ca-” his voice faltered for a moment, but then quickly shifted, his frustration fueling his next words. “I saw you. You were just injured, and there you were, laughing, celebrating with them like nothing’s wrong. And him-” his voice turned sharp with bitterness “that Padawan, flirting with you like you’re just some… some prize, while I was worried sick about you”.

Your eyes widened in realization, and you let out a disbelieving laugh “Is that what this is about? You’re angry because some Padawan flirted with me?”.

“I saw the way he looked at you! Like you were just another challenge to him. You were hurt, and instead of resting, you went to a cantina, where anyone could’ve taken advantage of you” Anakin clenched his fists.

“He was just being nice. I can take care of myself” you shot back, stepping even closer.

“Nice? NICE?” Anakin scoffed, his voice rising with disbelief “I saw the way he touched your arm, the way he stood too close to you. It wasn’t just ‘nice’. I know the likes of him. In your normal state, I have no doubt in your abilities, but you were still recovering. He could’ve-”.

“You’re overreacting, Anakin. He wasn’t going to do anything. I’ve handled worse situations”.

“I’m not overreacting” Anakin grunted, taking another step toward you “I’m trying to protect you”.

“Protect me?” you scoffed, feeling your anger rise to match his. “I don’t need you to. I’m not some helpless child. I know how to defend myself. I’ve done it time and time again”.

“That’s not the point. I can’t just stand by and watch” he said, his voice breaking ”I can’t- I can’t lose you” his anger melted into something else, something raw and vulnerable. You could see how hesitant he was about the last four words.

“What? you asked in a voice barely above a whisper as shock settled in.

Anakin’s eyes finally met yours. They were softer, calmer than when the night began “I can’t lose you” he repeated, this time with more conviction. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, of something happening to you” his words were filled with pain, as if the weight of them was finally sinking in.

You stood there, staring at him, your heart pounding in your chest as the tension between you became almost unbearable “Anakin… what are you saying?”.

He looked away, his jaw clenching “I’m saying…it’s more than just concern for you as my Padawan. It’s not just that I want to protect you because it’s my duty” he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as if searching for the right words. “It’s because I care about you. More than I should. I know it’s not right. I know I’m not supposed to feel this way. I’ve tried to ignore it, bury it, push it away, but I can’t”.

“Anakin, I-”  you whispered, trying to process everything.

“I don’t expect you to feel the same” he took a step back “I know it complicates things, but I couldn’t keep this bottled up. I couldn’t just pretend anymore, not when I thought I could lose you. I needed you to know. I care about you more than anything else in this galaxy, and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I will do anything you ask”.

For a long moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. Then, slowly, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you once again “Anakin…” you said softly, your hand reaching out to gently caress his cheek. 

Anakin’s breath hitched at your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as if he were trying to gather himself.

“You’re not the only one who’s been pretending” you confessed. 

His eyes slowly opened, and you could see the flicker of surprise in them as he searched your face, trying to understand what you were saying.

“I care about you too. So much that it scares me sometimes” you admitted, swallowing hard “I tried to deny it, to fight it, and for a while, it worked. But now… this- this changes everything”.

“You…you care about me?” he asked, trying to hide his joy, still not believing what he was hearing.

“I do” you nodded, feeling the air grow thin as your breaths became heavier.

Anakin leaned in, his forehead gently resting against yours. His breath was warm, mingling with yours as he closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

Taglist: @mother-dragon-and-her-hatchlings