#hawks x reader lemon

[crazyotakugal]

[saiyanmyname]

INSATIABLE HEAT

NOTE: Fairly action packed this time, we're heading towards the end (slowly), so this could be the last we hear from Hawks for a while. No reader in this chapter, just our top three heroes... don't worry reader will be back in the next one. There's smut in the work as whole but not this chapter. Excerpt and link below as usual :)

CHAPTER 21: THE MOUNTAIN

Endeavor tilted his head back, veins straining from his neck as he considered the distance ahead, eyes distractedly gazing towards the sky, the angle of his chin highlighted in the clear night, nostrils flared with a frustrated exhale. It was strange to him, to not be using his quirk in such cold conditions, the slightest dip in temperature usually caused him to light a firey maine around his face. Ordinarily Endeavor had disliked the cool of the breeze whispering past his lips, but, he supposed, he’d have to get used to it for now. Breathing thickly, he continued, making haste towards the summit, a sea of snow in front of him, glittering in hues of soft blue.

[rmadridcore]

Jealous Streak

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Reader

Summary: After Kylian gets mad over a silly misunderstanding, things quickly heat up between you two, turning his anger into something much more intimate.

Word Count: 2.9K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s note: I’m back to writing about Kylian! Recent events surrounding him had been so messy that I couldn’t find any inspiration to write for him anymore, but a new idea arose so here it is! I have a few requests waiting and I’ll get through them as fast as I can & now I will be taking requests about Kylian as well 🫂 hope you enjoy this one! Let me know what you think 🩷

Water droplets clung to your flushed skin as you wrapped yourself in a fluffy white towel, stepping out of the steamy shower cabin. You grabbed another towel, running it through your damp hair before swiping a hand across the fogged-up bathroom mirror. The haze cleared just enough for you to see your reflection as you applied a few drops of face oil, the soothing sensation adding to the relaxation you desperately needed. The tension from the day melted away, your muscles loose and your mind clearer after the long, steamy escape.

With the towel securely wrapped around your body and droplets still trailing down your warm skin, you padded into the shared bedroom of you and Kylian. He was sprawled on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, absently playing with the TV remote. A random documentary played on the screen, but from the way his eyes glazed over, it was obvious he wasn’t paying attention.

You glanced at him, noticing his lack of acknowledgment as you entered. It wasn’t that he didn’t see you — oh, he noticed. Kylian was angry, his mood as sour as unripe lemons.

You sighed, your annoyance bubbling to the surface. The root of his irritation wasn’t entirely unexpected. The night before, you’d gone to a friend’s birthday party, solo, since Kylian was away for an away game. You had bumped into your ex boyfriend there, exchanged a polite but fleeting conversation, and thought nothing of it. To you, the interaction was so insignificant that it didn’t even cross your mind to mention it when you spoke to Kylian later that night.

But Kylian, ever the hawk-eyed protector, had seen pictures of the party while on the plane home, one of which captured your brief exchange with your ex. He’d flipped. Your reassurances, how brief the interaction was, how little it mattered, didn’t help. He wasn’t just mad that your ex had been there; he was mad that you hadn’t told him about it.

When Kylian arrived home a few hours ago, you’d expected him to have cooled off. You were wrong. If anything, he was more wound up than before, his brooding silence a testament to his irritation. After his passive aggressive digs began to test your patience, you decided to take a shower to escape his sulking. But now, as you stood in front of the vanity applying leave-in conditioner to your damp hair, you couldn’t ignore his childish behavior any longer.

“Am I getting the silent treatment now?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Kylian sighed, his gaze fixed on the TV. “I’m not in the mood to talk, that’s all.”

“You’re being ridiculous, you know that?” You set the bottle of conditioner down with a frustrated thud.

He didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as his eyes stayed glued to the screen.

The double standard wasn’t lost on you. Whenever you got jealous, Kylian would laugh it off, his reassurances wrapped in humor and affection. To him, the idea of you doubting his loyalty or devotion was absurd; he loved you too much to entertain thoughts of anyone else. But when the tables turned, when he was the one feeling the pangs of jealousy, it was a completely different story.

He wasn’t unreasonable — he trusted you implicitly. He knew, without a shred of doubt, that your love and loyalty were his alone. But that didn’t stop the irrational surge of irritation when someone else tried to insert themselves into your space, even momentarily. Jealousy wasn’t about mistrust; it was about his protectiveness, his possessiveness, his inability to tolerate the idea of anyone else claiming even a fraction of your attention.

And now, here he was, stewing in his emotions, dragging both of you into his mood. It was petty, it was unnecessary, and it was maddening.

You perched on the edge of the bed, your gaze fixed on Kylian, who still stubbornly refused to look at you. Frustrated yet determined, you reached out and placed a hand on his leg, giving him a light shake.

“Come on now, I deserve forgiveness, don’t I?” you said, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes internally at how much of a fuss he was making over something so trivial.

Kylian didn’t respond, his jaw clenching slightly, but his eyes betrayed him. They flickered downward as your towel shifted, slipping just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of your cleavage. His gaze lingered, involuntarily captivated, before he snapped himself out of it, tearing his eyes away and gluing them back to the television.

You smirked knowingly. That was it — his resolve was cracking. He was on the verge of giving in, and you weren’t about to let the opportunity slip away.

“You’re really not going to talk to me?” you teased, your hand sliding up his thigh, your fingers brushing against the sensitive spot that you knew made his breath hitch.

His reaction was instant, his breathing faltered, and his eyes darted down to your hand resting on his leg. But like the stubborn man he was, Kylian quickly averted his gaze back to the screen. “I’m watching something,” he muttered, the words unconvincing even to himself.

You arched a brow, suppressing a laugh. “Oh, really?” you challenged softly, leaning in closer. You were sure he couldn’t even name what the documentary was about if his life depended on it.

Tightening the towel securely around your body, you moved to lie down beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. Your proximity was deliberate, your movements calculated. You knew Kylian better than anyone, and you could tell he was fighting a losing battle.

You scooted closer until your body was practically flush against his, your hand sliding up to cradle his jaw. You placed a featherlight kiss on his cheek, your nose brushing against his skin as you inhaled his intoxicating scent.

He didn’t protest — in fact, you could feel him relax slightly under your touch, though his gaze stubbornly remained on the screen.

“Still mad at me?” you murmured, your lips trailing kisses along the curve of his cheek, each one softer and more deliberate than the last.

“A little,” he admitted, the corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. You were close now, victory was within reach.

“How do I make you forgive me?” you asked, your voice dropping into a sultry whisper as your lips moved down to his neck. His breath hitched again, and this time, he didn’t even pretend to resist. Tilting his head to the side, he silently invited you to explore, giving you access to his smooth, warm skin.

You didn’t waste the opportunity, pressing open-mouthed kisses against his neck, slow and tantalizing, just the way you knew he liked them. Each kiss lingered, your tongue flicking lightly against his skin, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“You’ll have to figure that out,” he said, his voice lower now, a teasing edge lacing his tone. His hand moved to tug at your towel, but you swatted it away, stopping him just before he could succeed.

“Not so fast,” you scolded with a playful smirk, pushing his hand aside. You locked eyes with him, your gaze commanding. “Turn the TV off.”

He hesitated for only a moment before obeying without question, reaching over to grab the remote and switching off the screen. The room plunged into a comfortable silence, save for the sound of your kisses as you resumed your exploration of his neck. His skin was already beginning to show the faint marks of your affection, love bites blooming wherever your lips touched.

This battle of wills wasn’t one Kylian was going to win, not tonight.

Your hand slid down his chest deliberately, your fingers gliding over the sculpted ridges of his torso. Even through the fabric of his shirt, you could feel the tautness of his abs. Slowly, you slipped your hand beneath the hem of his shirt, letting your palm rest against the firm, warm skin of his stomach.

Your lips moved purposefully from his neck to his ear, where you knew he was most sensitive. As your mouth lingered near his ear, you took your time, savoring the quiet anticipation that built with every second. His breathing grew heavier, a restrained whine rumbling in the back of his throat.

Your lips closed around his earlobe, sucking gently before nipping at it with your teeth. At the same time, your hand ventured lower, cupping and massaging him through his shorts. The moment your touch landed there, Kylian let out a shaky whimper, his body betraying him despite his effort to hold back.

“Fuck, Kylian…” you murmured, your breath hot against his ear, your voice thick with desire. “You’re hard.”

He was, impossibly so. It always amazed you how little effort it took to get him this worked up. But Kylian never felt embarrassed by it; in fact, he encouraged you to embrace the power you had over him, and you did just that.

Teasingly, you paused, removing your hand from his bulge to toy with the waistband of his shorts. Your fingertips skimmed the edge, dipping just slightly inside before retreating, a deliberate game meant to drive him wild. At the same time, your lips stopped their exploration, hovering near his ear but offering no further relief.

Kylian exhaled a frustrated sigh, the tension in his body practically vibrating beneath you. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firm but undercut by an unmistakable desperation.

“What do you want, Kylian? Tell me,” you teased, your voice dripping with sultry confidence. Your hand hovered halfway inside his waistband, motionless, as you gazed down at him. His dark eyes locked onto yours, burning with need, though his jaw clenched with resistance.

“I—” he started, but the words faltered, his head falling back against the pillow as he struggled with his pride.

You leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Use your words, baby.” Your mouth found the spot behind his ear again, kissing it softly before dragging your tongue across his heated skin. The reaction was instant — his chest rose sharply as he let out a ragged sigh.

“Touch me,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. His head tilted again, baring his neck to you as though surrendering completely.

You pulled back slightly, feigning a look of surprise. “That’s it?” you teased, raising a brow.

When he didn’t respond right away, you began to withdraw your hand, a silent punishment for his hesitation. That’s when he broke.

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice raw with desperation. “Please touch me. Please.”

A wave of satisfaction washed over you at his shameless begging. “Since you’ve asked so nicely…” you said with a wicked smile, sliding your hand fully into his shorts. Your fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock, pulling it free from the confines of his underwear. You gave him a few firm, deliberate strokes, feeling his length twitch in your grip.

Kylian’s head fell back, a deep groan escaping his lips as his body melted under your touch. You worked him slowly at first, savoring every reaction — the way his breathing turned ragged, the way his hips twitched upward, seeking more.

Just as the tension in him began to crest, you pulled your hand away, leaving him gasping in frustration. “Y/N,” he whined, his brows furrowing in protest, but he didn’t move, his body too overwhelmed to resist.

You silenced him with a knowing smirk, spitting into your palm before wrapping your hand around his cock again. This time, your strokes were slick and smooth, your grip firmer as you tugged his foreskin up and down his shaft. Your hand moved with precision, knowing exactly how to unravel him.

Your head remained buried in his neck, your lips grazing and sucking at his skin, leaving marks that would linger long after. You didn’t need to look at what you were doing, your familiarity with his body was second nature by now.

Kylian was a mess beneath you, his body trembling with pleasure. His head lolled back, his mouth open as soft, breathy moans spilled from his lips. His voice was broken, whimpering your name between gasps, and it only fueled your determination to drive him further over the edge.

As your hand worked its magic on him, Kylian’s body tensed beneath you, his stomach muscles clenching involuntarily. His moans grew louder, more guttural, a clear sign that he was nearing his breaking point. You smirked against his neck, relishing the power you held over him. When his hips started to buck upward, chasing the orgasm building within him, you abruptly pulled away, leaving him on the edge and visibly desperate.

“Y/N—” he started, his voice hoarse with frustration. The heaviness in his balls was unmistakable, and his cock twitched in protest, aching for release.

You silenced him with a searing kiss, your tongue slipping past his lips and tangling with his. As the kiss deepened, you reached up and tugged at the knot of your towel, letting it fall away and tossing it across the room. The cool air kissed your bare skin, but the heat radiating from Kylian was all you felt.

In one smooth motion, you broke the kiss just long enough to tug his shirt off over his head, discarding it in the same direction as your towel. Your hands explored the expanse of his broad chest, feeling the firmness of his pecs and the rapid rise and fall of his breath. Straddling him, you felt his hands instinctively grip your hips, his touch possessive and eager.

Without breaking eye contact, you reached down, guiding his throbbing cock to your dripping entrance. Slowly, you sank down onto him, his length stretching you perfectly. Kylian’s head fell back against the pillows, a loud, guttural moan tearing from his lips as he filled you completely.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his face twisting in pleasure.

Your hands splayed across his chest for balance as you began to move your hips, rolling them slowly to savor the sensation of him deep inside you. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with an intensity that promised bruises. You welcomed the pressure, the reminder of how much he needed you.

“Feel so good, baby. So fucking good,” he cried out, his voice raw and unrestrained.

You couldn’t help but moan in response, the way he stretched you out and filled you making you feel like you were made for him. Every inch of his cock hit you just right, brushing against that perfect spot that sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

Picking up the pace, you began to bounce on his shaft, your movements growing faster and more frantic. Kylian met your rhythm with thrusts of his own, his hips driving upward to match your descent. You were technically on top, but Kylian’s firm grip on your hips dictated the pace, his control subtle yet undeniable.

“Kylian,” you cried out, throwing your head back as waves of pleasure consumed you.

He raised his head slightly, his eyes dropping to where your bodies were joined. The sight of his cock disappearing into you over and over again made him groan deeply, his hand leaving your hip to find your clit. His fingers worked slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to make your thighs tremble.

He knew your body like no one else, he could find your sweet spot even if he was blindfolded, underwater, and upside down.

“Merde, mon amour. Tu te sens incroyable,” he rasped, his words dripping with pleasure. His breaths were heavy, his moans frequent and raw as he fought to keep himself together.

Your legs began to tremble, the strain of riding him taking its toll. You gripped his shoulders tightly, using them for support as your pace faltered slightly. Kylian, ever in tune with you, took the lead, bucking his hips upward harder and faster.

“Kylian, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the tension inside you reached its peak.

“Come for me, angel,” he urged, his voice soft yet commanding. His hand on your clit didn’t relent, his movements calculated to push you over the edge.

You cupped his face with one hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. His dark eyes burned into yours, the intensity between you electric. The connection sent you hurtling into your climax, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Your moans mixed with his as Kylian’s hips stuttered, his release following closely behind yours. You felt him twitch inside you as he spilled his load deep within, the sensation prolonging your high. His head fell back against the pillow, his chest heaving as he rode out the last of his orgasm.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the air thick with heat and the scent of sex. Kylian’s hands moved from your hips to gently caress your thighs, his touch soothing where it had once been demanding.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his as you asked playfully, “So, am I forgiven?”

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against yours as he pulled you closer. “I’ll let you know after round two,” he teased, capturing your lips in a deep, messy kiss.

You laughed softly, your forehead resting against his as the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you tangled together in the aftermath of your love.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart Master List

Started: 5/18/24

Last Updated: 1/4/24

Total Works: 44

Note: My Blog is A18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Regulations:

✅ Age in bio!! This is an adults only blog and content warnings will be set as such.

💌 Requests are open, but not guaranteed.

🙏 Please do not trauma dump in my inbox. I am not a mental health professional or a mental health focused blog. I just write little fics that I hope make you smile!

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

My Hero Academia

Fluff/Lemon 🍋

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Shinsou x Reader | Headcannon: How Hitoshi Shinsou Kisses 💋

Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

🦈❤️Boyfriend!Kirishima ❤️🦈

5 Times You Stole Eijiro Kirishima’s Hoodie | Part 1: The Convenience Store

Katsuki Bakugo x Eijiro Kirishima

Headcannon: Kirishima LOVES wearing Bakugo's clothes.

Katsuki Bakugo x Izuku Midoriya

BakuDeku | A Rainy Day Together ☔️💚💥

Pining Katsuki | BKDK Headcannon 💚💥

BakuDeku Secret Love Codes | Secret Relationship Head Cannon

BakuDeku First Kiss in the Tunnel of Love 💋

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Izuku x Reader | Headcannon: How Izuku Kisses 💋

Dabi x Hawks

And then he meets Keigo.

DabiHawks Rainy Day Together ☔️

Hawks x Reader

Hawks x Reader Imagine

Shōta Aizawa x Shirakumo

Aizawa's First Kiss | Shota Aizawa x Oboro Shirakumo

Shōta Aizawa x Reader

Shota Aizawa x Co-Worker Reader | Imagine

Smut 💋🌶

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Kirishima gives Todoroki S*x Tips | Todoroki x Reader Fic

Shoto Discovers He Has A Daddy Kink | Shoto x Reader

Movie Date 💕 | Shoto Todoroki x Reader

All Wrapped Up In a Bow 🎄❤️ | Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Shoto's First Kiss Series:

Part 1: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Part 2: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 3: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 4: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 4

Part 5: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

Part 6: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 6

Part 7: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 7

Part 8: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 8

Related Post: Shoto's First Kiss Timeline Brainstorm

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Izuku Midoriya x Reader | Headcannon: Your First Time Together

Izuku Midoriya x Katsuki Bakugo

BakuDeku Smut: Hooking Up At A Pro Hero Gala

Beneath the Bookshelves | BakuDeku

Katsuki Bakugo x Eijiro Kirishima

How to Suck Your Best Friend’s D*ck 🍆💋

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Stress Relief | Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Never Too Tired To Love You💜

Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

A Long, *Hard* Night with Eijiro Kirishima

Red Riot: Unbreakable Baby Daddy

Hawks x Reader

Hawks x Y/N | Doggy Style

Endeavor x Hawks

Endeavor x Hawks | Steamy in the Shower | Part One 💋

Endeavor x Hawks | Steamy in the Shower | Part Two 💋

Dabi x Hawks

Bed Chem. | Dabi x Hawks 🌶🔥🦅

Dabi x Reader

Unexpected Flames | Dabi/Touya x Reader

Staples. | Dabi/Touya x Reader 🔥🔞

Game On. | Touya x Reader Imagine 🌶

The Locker Room Horizontal Tango. | Touya x Reader Imagine 🌶

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

A Soft Place to Land | Aizawa x Reader 💕

MHA Guys x Reader

How The MHA Guys Act When They Realize They Don't Have a Condom 💋

[moonstruckme]

hey! could i request a james potter x reader fic pls?? i have been thinking about him specifically non stop and now i just wanna be domestic and cute with him-

Me too lovely :')

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 661 words

You’ve told James that you’re painting your toenails on the kitchen counter because it has good light, but he knows it’s really because you want to be near him. He’ll have to clean the counter again after you go, but he’s not complaining. He wants you near him too. 

And anyway, the kitchen does have good light. It streams in through the window to tangle in your hair and glance off your skin, illuminating the concentrated set to your mouth as you bend over your foot on the counter. 

James kisses you lightly, and one corner of your lips quirks up like you’re trying to stop it but can’t quite manage. You taste sweet and a bit tart. 

“Don’t mess me up,” you warn. “This is my last coat, it’s do or die.” 

“Stop eating my blackberries,” he counters, “and we’ll see. No promises.” 

You finish with your nails, setting the brush back in the polish and nabbing another blackberry from his bowl. James gasps, betrayed though not surprised. He pinches your side.

You laugh, leaning away from him fruitlessly. “Stop, I’m going to knock polish onto the rug!”

“You could at least vary your snacking,” James says. “My fruit salad is going to have hundreds of pieces of melon and two blackberries if you keep on like this.” 

“I just like blackberries best.” 

“So does Remus,” he chides with no real severity. “And when he gets here later today and they’re all gone, who do you think will be blamed?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, smiling angelically. “He doesn’t need to know there were going to be blackberries in here to begin with, does he?” you ask. The hope in your voice sparkles like sunshine off the ocean. 

James caves instantly at that tone, but he pretends to take at least a second to mull it over before capitulating. “Fair enough. Have at them, lovie. Leave no trace.” 

You descend like a hawk upon your prey, clawing through the bowl of fruit and popping blackberry after blackberry into your mouth. 

“I’m thinking of going to the store in a bit,” you say. 

James grins down at his cutting board, slicing the skin off a wedge of cantaloupe. “To replenish Remus’ blackberry supply?” he asks. He knows you’re too tenderhearted to truly rob his friend of something he enjoys; you’d be racked with guilt for the rest of the night. 

“To get lemons for lemonade.” You touch your big toe delicately, testing the dryness of your polish. “And if I stumble upon blackberries that look good while I’m there…” You shrug, turning away from him like you think you can hide your smile. As if he can’t hear it in your voice. “Then maybe I’ll grab some. To keep the peace.” 

James reaches over and grips your foot, channeling as much love as he can fit into a good squeeze. You gasp and nearly shriek when his thumb digs into a ticklish spot on your arch, grabbing onto his shoulder to keep from tipping off the counter. He sets a hand on your side to help, and he can feel your ribs shaking as you laugh. 

“Sorry, sorry,” James laughs. “I forgot about that spot.” He didn’t. “Wait for me to finish and we’ll go together, yeah?” 

Your nose scrunches with your smile. “Why, you wanna keep an eye on the blackberries?” 

“I was thinking we’d just get extra,” he proposes. 

You hum contentedly, and he takes the invitation to get further into your space, his hip bumping against your leg. “That’s very chivalrous of you,” you reply, your teasing softened by fondness. 

“Well, I do try. Pretty girls need to be kept happy, yeah?” 

You laugh again, grabbing James’ face in both hands. He knows when you let go, there’ll be sticky purple fingerprints on both of his cheeks. He doesn’t mind. 

“Flirt,” you accuse. 

James pushes forward until his nose is pressed up against yours. “Only for you.” 

[pedge-page]

can you write something where pregnant reader has trouble holding her bladder and joel messes with her a bit? 🫶🏻

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife drabble - Hold It

Notes: This is NOT Piss kink, just a little Joel and Preggo reader torture amusement. I have separate PK x preggo wife request coming up soon

-

The one thing that women aren’t best at as they get older is holding their bladder. When you gotta go, you go.

And the number one thing that having a fat ass baby shoved up your uterus and pushing aside every organ and pressing the full weight of their tiny bodies on—is your fucking already-terrible-to-hold bladder.

Bumping up and down in Joel’s ugly ass truck with suspension that feels like shit because you can feel every single crevice from every single crack in the road does NOT do well for anything except stir up the amount of liquids inside you.

“Joel,” you whisper warningly, legs scrunched together.

Joel knows the difference between your “Joel” with legs scrunched together and the other “Joel” with legs scrunched together.

“You better not have to p—��

“I have to pee!”

He shakes his head with hearty laugh. “I told you to go 30 minutes ago when we were at the stop.”

“I did go,” you retort venomously. “But now I have to go again.”

“We’re 30 miles from the nearest exit. What do you want me to do?”

“Drive faster?!” Are you fucking dumb?

“We’re an hour late as is. I told you—“

“Don’t you dare fucking scold me like a child Joel Miller, this bitch needs to piss and she needs to go right fucking now.”

“You going on the side of the road?” He suggests with half hearted venom.

You whimper and shake your head. You do NOT want to squat down for a piss next to the highway on the road. You wouldn’t do it not pregnant, but definitely definitely not WHILE pregnant.

“Just—just drive faster. And shut up,” you rasp. You hold your hands between your legs and close your eyes, focusing on willing your baby to help you squeeze that lemon for once. “And don’t breathe. Or cough or just —just don’t exist.”

Joel has to wipe his face to hide the smirk on his lips. Your sheer concentration right now, all burled up and shaking side to side has him holding in a laugh.

 He checks his rear view for any signs of cops, then begins to lean into the gas more. You would pay for the turmoil you’re putting his poor truck through—not in any type of obvious payment of course, but in a more satisfying transaction.

Joel balances the wheel with one knee as he opens a bottle of water set on the dash.

He keeps his eyes on the road and makes the loudest, most grating, obnoxious slurping sounds known to man.

Your head slowly rotates towards him as if a killer hawk were seeing prey landed right next to her. He only peeks over and see the absolutely thinnest lined lips on you, and your exceedingly horrifying wide eyes ready to murder him. 

“MMmMM,” he moans, gulping down the bottle with big swallows so you can hear it sloshing down his jugular with each bob.

“You—you shithead,” you snarl.

He raises his eyebrow. “Do you want some?”

You shake your head, neck bowed low because you can’t concentrate on a scolding your asshole husband and holding your urine at the same time.

“M’ gonna ruin your seats.”

He shrugs. “Wouldn’t be so bad. Got all kinds of your juices on here already, what’s another variety to the blend—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

“Okay okay, I’m pulling off.”

You tumble out of the car before he’s even fully parked, crouching low to the ground begging to God as your last resort to keep. it. In.

Joel just puts his hands on his hips. “You gonna do It through your pants?”

shutupshutupshutupshutup Ohfuckfuckfuck.

He can hear your tiny whimpers, looks down upon his poor little wife and her even tinier bladder about to make a fool of both of them and piss yourself all over your stretchy pants—

He decides you've had enough torture.

“Gas station is 7 feet away, honey.”

You look up and lo and behold, you’re crouched in a parking lot right outside the quaint convenience station, its glowy neon signs and cigarette flyers and “2 for 3” signs illuminating like you had just won the lottery.

“OOHHHH” you gasp, sitting up and holding your vagina in your palm as you wobble into the quaint store like Road Running and down the alley to the bathroom.

Joel comes in afterwards and does the courtesy of buying a few snack for the trip. 

“Pregnant wife,” he muses to the clerk as he slams a few jerky sticks on the counter.

The two of them are startled by a very loud, satisfied moan coming from the women’s toilet room.

The clerk just chuckles and rings up the items.

-

He checks his watch again, tapping his fingers on the wheel impatiently. What the fuck is taking you 20 minutes?

Its not until the gas station door chime goes off outside as the door swings open, and you’re coming out with a 32 oz Big Gulp cup of Frozen Pepsi ICEE while happily waving goodbye to the clerk as you waddle back to the car.

You settle your bumbum into the seat with a little wiggle and slam the truck door closed, sipping away happily with two hands fisting the styrofoam cup.

Joel has one arm over the steering wheel, facing you with a frown and deadpan eyes glancing between you and your cup the size of Africa, your annoying slurps filling the silent car.

You don’t pick up on his silent aggravation at all, offering him a chipmunk smile. “M-ready now,“ you chirp.

He grits his teeth while looking at the cup you can’t even wrap your fingers around. Holds his tongue and doesn’t say anything, faces forward and turns the key into ignition.

-

25 minutes later, with your empty Big Gulp cup rolling around on the floor mat:

“Um, J-Joel,” you warn again, this time voice wavering timidly. “Joel, I have to—“

“NO!” 

- - - -

Permanent Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 4]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 6.7k

Summary: 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.'

🌶️Obligatory Warning for Some Descriptions of Violence & Mild Suggestive Content

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

As detestable as they were, at the very least your assailants were well organized.

You were plopped neatly at the center of the room, in a very conspicuous location that would have made it difficult for a hypothetical someone to, say, just flat-out torch everything in sight without also catching his very tiny, mortal, companion up in said firestorm.

The group of them split off to tend to their tasks with a frankly shocking level of competence and foresight. Was this how adventurers were actually supposed to work? They didn’t just—I don’t know—saunter into an abandoned castle on a whim and a prayer, with no real end goal in sight and nothing but the perpetual bounding of a singular, shared, braincell to keep them on their toes? There was a plan? What was this madness.

“How much time do you think we have?” one of them called, busy working to set up some sort of wire trap that, in your humble ‘I have faced this legendary dragon and survived’ opinion, looked like it would do exactly diddly squat.

“Enough,” the Elf Wizard shrugged, thin arms crossed tight across his equally gaunt chest. “These vermin don’t have the same concept of time as we do. It may return soon, but we may also be waiting hours.”

Hours? Hours? You fought the urge to groan. And then remembered it hardly mattered if you did or not, because you were still trapped in a bubble of perpetual Silence, and that just made you want to groan louder.

Assumed-Rogue nodded tersely in response and continued constructing his pseudo-trap. The long, red, stripes of his sleeves were odd things—very in-your-face bold for a dude whose job you assumed it was to slip through shadows unseen. But then you noticed that the threads he was spinning were pooling from those slashes of crimson, and alright, that was fairly cool. ‘Your failure of a stealthy design gets a pass this time, good sir.’

“You’re certain this is one of the Briar Beasts, Lord Flamm?” Armored Lady piped in, busy shifting through the various swords strapped at her hip.

“Of course,” he hummed, flicking through his spell tome. “Have I ever led you astray before?”

Armored Dude snorted from his place across the room. “You’re not the issue. I just have trouble believing one of those monsters would still be alive at all after all this time.”

‘Lord Flamm’ snorted. “And why not? They’re like cockroaches—thriving through the worst of the world and gorging themselves on its corruption. This one is no different.”

Your brows twitched irritably.

Thankfully, Silence was not an indefinite spell. And after about ten minutes of muzzled misery, you felt its sticky, gauzy, gunk wash itself out of your throat.  

“I’m getting the impression that you’re really not a fan of dragons,” you said, testing your volume.

Lord Flamm stared down at you with a hawk-eyed sort of sneer. His pale, green, glare felt like a tangible thing crawling along your skin.

“They are unnatural,” he huffed after a moment. “No creature should walk the planes of this world for such a great span of time. Immortality is a perverse transgression against the sanctities of life and existence.”

“You are literally an Elf,” you replied, incredulous. His face scrunched up like you’d forced a whole lemon into his mouth, and then he dropped another dome of Silence over your head.

Another ten minutes crawled by, and words returned to your tongue.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hypocritical?” you hummed, casually testing the arcane restraints binding your limbs. Those seemed to hold themselves in place with a great deal more fortitude than his on-again-off-again Mute Button, which was as frustrating as it was respectable.

“It’s not nearly the same. I was born into my burden,” he sniffed.

You blinked, confused. “I mean, so was Tsunotarou.”

Elf Wizard made a punched-out sort of noise, like you’d decked him right in the spleen.

“You named the beast?” he gawked. “Like a pet?”

“Look, man,” you grouched, offended on your scaly friend’s behalf. “If anyone’s the pet here, it’s me!”

Lord Flamm’s face went white, to red, and then nearly puce.

“Wait,” you spluttered. “That came out wrong—”

And then you were gagged once more.

The next time your muzzle was lifted, Lord Flamm was already pacing along the little, invisible, edge of the spell’s cage. You cleared your throat and he came to a stop a few feet away from where you were bound.

“I can see what’s happened here,” he said, stern, and you arched a brow in disbelief. You didn’t even have any solid idea what the fuck was going on, and you’d been living it for the past few weeks. He cleared his throat and glowered down at you. “You’ve been taken in by the monster’s wiles.”

You spluttered. “Not to just keep repeating myself, but really, if anyone did the ‘accidental seducing’ thing here, it was—”

He waved you off with a puckered grimace. “That hardly matters. At the end of the day, you are still the creature’s prisoner, and it is my duty as a man of integrity to assist you however I can.”

You frowned. Because while this whole thing had technically started as a hostage situation, it hadn’t really felt like one lately. Sure, Tsunotarou still threw tantrums that shook the foundation when you’d tried to put up a makeshift bathroom door, but he also listened to all your stories with the rapt attention of someone genuinely invested in the garbage pouring out of your mouth. He tucked you into your big mattress nest at night with his scaly nose, and endured all your griping with nothing but good humor. He showed you his treasures and told you terrible, dry, jokes that you were sure you only found so funny because he certainly hadn’t meant to be.

You sighed and dipped your head, expression shuttered.

Lord Flamm stepped forward and you felt a thin, gloved, finger tuck itself beneath your chin to tilt you back up to face him.

“I will save you,” he promised, something genuinely sturdy and righteous coating the words. “If you ask it of me.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose.

“There once a man from Trebucket,” you chirped, letting the jaunty tavern melody roll off your tongue like any good Bard ought to.

Lord Flamm arched a thin brow, in equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“Who really only wanted to find the dragon so he could fuck it—”

His face twisted in rage, and to the surprise of literally no one, you were Silenced yet again. Though this one felt the most like a victory so far.

And thus, the cycle repeated itself. Every quarter hour or so, the spell would drop and you’d start babbling some sacrilegious, borderline pornographic, nonsense that had him cursing you all over again. You counted each round of mockery softly in your head. Half to keep time, half to—

Your gaze trailed past the intricate, stone, entryway and caught. Perched atop the overhang were two gargoyles. Which was quite odd, seeing as you’d spent half a month living out of this room now and had never noticed them before (and you certainly would have, what with your host’s propensity for pointing out the gothic carvings each and every time one popped up in the castle’s architecture). Not to mention, they looked an awful lot like the pair of grey monsters which had been guarding the entrance when you’d first slunk in—the very duo that you’d sworn had tracked you and your friends with beady, gemstone, eyes and dug their pointed talons through solid rock.   

Ancient buildings always seemed to have a life about them—never quiet, never still. Always settling with strange noises and shifting shadows that danced oddly along surfaces that were forever decaying. And this castle was no different. So it took you really listening, really closing your eyes tight and straining your ears against the perpetual white noise, to make out the low grinding of the Gargoyles as they shifted atop their perch and curled their sharp claws.

You tilted your head at them, curious, and the one on the left seemed to bristle. As much as stone could bristle. The one on the right very softly dipped its chin, almost like a bow. Its purple, glass, eyes flashed in the lowlight.

‘Wait,’ that look said.

And so you did, sitting straighter and at proper attention.

The group of Dragon Slayers was still milling about making preparations. Eventually, one of the two yet-unclassified hench people slunk from the room, and when your gaze slipped back to the gargoyles, the one on the right was gone.

You made eye contact with the remaining carving, and it curled its lip at you like a grumbly hound.

There was a scream from beyond the threshold, and then a great clattering of noise not unlike an earthquake, or the resonating crunch of a building crumbling at its base.

Immediately weapons were drawn, shoulders hunched in panic. Defensive magic swirled through the air like ink in water.  

“What’s going on?!—”

With a shrieking roar, the remaining gargoyle lurched forward and collided with one of the armored attackers. The impact was like a crack of thunder, and it rattled around your skull like a gong.

And with that—dragon or no—the battle against the Hunters had officially begun.

With a panicked squawk, you began worming your still very bound self out of the dead center of this tornado of chaos. You flopped across the floor like a particularly determined caterpillar, or someone trussed up a in a sleeping bag with no limbs. You made it almost a solid twenty feet before you were scooped up by the back of your collar and dropped onto your knees.  

“Not so fast, you little cretin.”

And then there was a curved knife at your throat and a set of hands trapping your own. You gulped and the blade bobbed against your chin. Stupid rogues with their stupid stealth. You grit your teeth and clenched your fists, willing the meager scraps of magic that twirled in your veins to bob to the surface. You could feel the trace rumblings of a Thunderwave reverberating down your limbs, and it was certainly no Fireball, or Lightning Bolt, but maybe it would be enough to—

There was a spray of red, red, red and the Striped Rogue at your back collapsed in a puddle of gore.

Standing over the corpse of the felled assassin was a boy. Or, well, something that very much looked like a young boy. Or, not young. Just… It was strange. He was small, slight, with a cheerful youthfulness to him. But the mirthful expression lighting his crimson eyes chilled your bones like the seeping cold from a long-forgotten tomb. It was like looking at someone with dozens—hundreds—of faces. A kaleidoscope of lifetimes. It was disorientating.

“Hello, you,” the little demon cooed. He reached out to tap a clawed finger against your forehead and the arcane binds holding your limbs shattered on impact. “Let’s get you out of here, hmm?”

Something tugged at your brain as you gaped at that mess of choppy, black-and-pink, hair, and the glittering irises that matched the blood splattered across his cheeks almost too horribly well.

“Are you… Lilia?” you asked, dazed.

“Well done, little human,” he trilled, lips curling in delight as he hauled you back to your feet. “But there will be time for proper introductions later. Let’s get you somewhere safe first, before my silly ward really does tear this whole castle down.”

“Tsunotarou is here?” you frowned, anxious. “But these people are here to kill him.”

“We’ve done our best to keep him away for as long as possible,” Lilia hummed. “But I doubt he has much more patience for skulking about in the shadows. He never did,” He sighed, long and world weary. “And I loved this old haunt so much too. I hope it survives.”

“You—” you gawked. “You’re talking about the castle?!”

“Of course,” Lilia smiled, perfectly sweet. “Swatting these pests is going to cause more damage than they’re worth to begin with—”

You were yanked out of the path of an encroaching blade, and Lilia sidestepped the pair of you smoothly to safety.

“You’re not going anywhere!” the Paladin thundered, hand whipping out to leash a whirl of vibrating, bright, magic around Lilia’s wrists. “This fight is mine! And you will have no other!”

“Ah,” your savior sighed, looking down at the faint, yellow, glow circling his skin. “Now that is a doozy.”

The great sword came down with a crash, and Lilia ducked away from the destruction with ease. He gave you a light tap on the shoulder, pushing you forward, and you felt the flush of a Haste spell nibbling at your limbs.

“Go on ahead,” he said, with all the nonchalant politeness of someone lamenting that they were going to be late for afternoon tea. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

BOOM went the now glowing sword as it sliced through the air where your savior had been standing not a moment before.

“Do not take me so lightly, wretch,” the Paladin spat, and Lilia’s civil little smile twisted into something that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“If you insist,” he beamed, with a level of enthusiasm that was bordering on sociopathic.

You didn’t stay to see the fallout. Lilia’s orders to flee aside, you knew well enough what a cat looked like before it pounced—that smug, animalistic, satisfaction that came after deciding that it was going to play with its meal for as long as it liked. And the grinding, snapping, howling noises coming from their direction was enough to reinforce that looking back would be a very terrible idea indeed.

You’d only just made it past the threshold and out in the grand hall beyond when there came a whining groan that sounded familiarly enough like the protesting noises the banister would make whenever Tsunotarou dropped too much of his weight on top of it. You peered back into the room, and from the darkness at its rear emerged a long, thin, snout.

The Great, Ebony, Dragon slithered forth from the blackness like a snake through the grass. The sharp drag of his claws against the stone was earsplitting, and when he spread his wings behind him, he seemed to cast the entire cavern into shadow. Faster than you could blink, one, two, three of the Slayers were scooped up by those massive, pointed, teeth and tossed through the air—wherein the pair of gargoyles descended upon them like a set of well-trained attack dogs. Your dragon swiveled to spit black smoke across the rest of the echoing room and its occupants. Between the swirling smog seeping from his throat and the blackness of his wings, the brilliant, green, glow of his eyes were the only source of light in the gloom. It was all horribly eerie, but mesmerizing in a way that reminded you exactly why so many ballads and epics had been written about the terrible might of Dragons.

He reared his head back and roared. His bellowing seemed to shake the very foundation of the castle, and the sparks jumping from behind his canines bit through the smoke with harsh little pop-pop-pops. And man oh man, he reallymust have been taking it easy on you and your duo of idiots, because this would have had the three of you shitting your pants on the spot.

From there, the battle more or less became a one-sided massacre. The stone soldiers flew through the air, decimating the opponents as their master demanded. Occasionally there was a flash of pink, and then a cheerful laugh followed inevitably by a noise that was all kinds of unpleasant. And at the center of it all was your newfound friend—picking apart the opposition with all the careful rage of someone determined to sear the consequences of these Hunters’ folly into the memories of their lineages for ages to come.

And then—amidst all the quite frankly epic fighting that you would have to tell Ace and Deuce all about when they came back to visit—you noticed that not far from where you were hiding observing was a familiar, angry, gaunt face. Lord Flamm’s elaborate black and maroon robes swirled around his ankles as he paced, and he was leering at the chaos unfolding not a hundred feet away with an expression that calling murderous would have been kind.

You bristled immediately, limbs lancing through with a tight sort of indignation.

He was just—right there! Standing all the way out here! When the rest of his party was busy being chewed to itty-bitty pieces!

And sure, rationally you knew that Wizards were squishy, glass-canons not meant for close combat more intense than a round of rock-paper-scissors. Sure, when you and your idiots had been facing down a dragon, Ace and Deuce had ordered you and your equally ill-armored self to run for it. Someone had probably hurled the Elf from the room the moment combat began, or demanded he whirl away to safety.

But you wanted to be angry. Because this was the man who had strode, eyes wide open, into a hornet’s nest with the sole intention of crushing the poor bugs beneath his heel. He deserved to bear the brunt of the miserable, stinging, backlash.

It certainly didn’t help that he was glaring down Tsunotarou with near frenzied loathing. The tome in his hands was flipped open to a dense spell that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and he was casting. Something tedious, and extravagant, and with enough somatic nonsense to make your head spin. His gloved fingers glowed beneath a growing mote of magic that shone horrible and bright in the natural shadows of the castle. Whatever sort of magic it was, it was strong enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and push frantic adrenaline through your veins. Sigils swam through the air, and you swore you could feel it sapping at your own tiny pool of mana. If this was some kind of spell that would gobble up magic, then a dragon who was nothing but magic—then Tsunotarou—he would—This spell might actually—

You ran at that wretched little bitch with everything you had, and tackled him to the ground just as a bolt of crackling, pale, force magic boomed from between his fingers. The spell shot wide, and you thanked every divine being you could think of for the enduring shittiness of Wizard Muscles.

“I should have known you’d risk your life to save that unholy monster,” he seethed, rolling back to his feet and sending you tumbling off the side.

You stood firm and silent between this awful, garbage, Elf and the Dragon he so hated.

Lord Flamm raised a hand in your direction, incensed, and then you watched as something sharp and frightened slithered its way across his features. No sparks danced along his fingertips, no black miasma curled from his palms. You shoved your hands into your pockets and rocked back and forth on your heels like the most obnoxious piece of shit you could be.

“Wow,” you drawled, low in your throat. “That was impressive. I mean. How many times did you cast all those spells on me earlier? I’m shocked you have anything left.”

The already dark look coloring his face twitched into something truly foul.

“You were doing that on purpose,” he snarled. “You vile, loathsome, bumbling ignoramus of a bard!—"

“Ah, stop, stop!” You beamed, fanning yourself with a limp wrist. “You’re going to make me blush~”

You ducked out the way with a yelp as a mote of fire whizzed past your ear—singeing far too many hairs at it went. Because fuck fuck fuck. Cantrips were still a thing. And he was powerful enough that those simple, little, bits of magic would still probably be more than enough to fry the meat off your bones.

“It’ll be enough to kill you,” he seethed—like he could read your thoughts—teeth tugged into a hideous, gaping, sneer.

Your mind zipped through every possible escape route and settled frantically on the only option that had ever truly seemed to save your ass.

“What white teeth you have?” you tried.

He roared and another shot of brilliant, red, flames careened over your head.  

You ducked out of the way with a squawk just in the nick of time, nearly faceplanting into a wall in your haste.

And thus ensued a terrifying but morbidly hilarious Benny Hill chase through pillars, and behind rocks, and into holes. You killed your singular, daily use of Misty Step just trying to get out of one of said holes. And your brief attempt at tossing up a Mirror Image to throw off his groove did little but get you whacked with a Counterspell that made your bones ache.

Just as you’d burned through the last of your meager magic and were genuinely preparing to just try and deck the guy again, black smoke began to curl through the hall—soon followed by the ominous roll of thunderous growls and the heavy grindingof a gigantic beast clawing its way into the room.

You threw yourself at the dragon with more enthusiasm than was probably proper for a situation like this, and he immediately ducked his head to catch you against his snout. He curled himself around you with a rumbling snarl and your vision was drowned in a shifting sea of ebony scales. You squished yourself into his bulk with a shuddering sigh, fingers clutching a bit uselessly at the slippery surface of his natural armor.

A burst of orange flames rolled harmlessly off Tsunotarou’s scaled side and his lips curled unpleasantly over his canines. You could see the licks of emerald fire rolling off his tongue—dancing along his white teeth and lighting the hall in an ominous, sickly, glow.

Before the pair of you, Lord Flamm looked half-mad. If not fully consumed. His party wiped, his hostage freed, and the creature he hated so fiercely baring down on him with no escape.

He let his head fall back with a discordant trill of laughter and grinned at the approaching dragon without a hint of repentance. Fear, perhaps. Panic, certainly. But no remorse. He raised his hands once more, and another dredge of his own fire sparked along his fingers.

“And he shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.”

The Great Briar Beast of Old opened his gigantic, black, maw and choked the hall in a torrent of emerald fire.

And Lord Flamm and his Dragon Slayers were no more.

You stared intently at the singed corridor, as if waiting for one of the piles of ash to jump to its feet and pull a sword. Which you might have excused as paranoid fretting if you hadn’t heard of necrotic magics capable of doing exactly that. But after a long moment of waiting with bated breath and tight fists, the monsters did not rise from their graves, and all seemed to be truly well and over.

You let out a gigantic gust of a breath and collapsed bonelessly against the dragon at your side. After a solid minute or two of just awkwardly trying to find a good way to hug a giant lizard more than a dozen times your size, Tsunotarou slipped out of his scales, and then he was warm and fleshy in your arms once more. Still too big, still earth-shatteringly strong, but human-shapedenough that you could merrily settle into his embrace without the risk of becoming a pancake.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped past the lingering haze of smoke. “You’re okay!”

“Me?” he gawked at you. It was an awkward angle to make eye contact, seeing as he’d latched himself onto you like a particularly determined koala, but he managed nonetheless. “You were worried about me during all of that?” He blinked those wide, neon, eyes at you like you were some horribly long and tedious math equation that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of. “You were the one who was captured!”

“They were Dragon Slayers,” you entreated, brow furrowed. “They didn’t need me for much of anything. Of course I was worried more about you.”

When the constipated look on his face refused to fade, you prodded him gently in his side.

“Look, I promise if we ever run into Bard Poachers I will be exponentially more cautious.”

He didn’t look particularly convinced—whether because he was trying to suss out of if something like ‘Bard Poachers’ were an actual, factual, threat upon your person, or because you’d just openly hurtled yourself at a clearly overpowered, feral, wizard with no regards to your already shitty constitution to speak of, so a promise to ‘be more cautious’ was about as good as saying that maybe next time you wouldn’t outright flirt with death. Only subtly. A lil’ bit.

You reached up to smoosh your thumb along the sharp slant of his frown and smooth out the harsh edges that were practically digging into his jaw.

“Tsunotarou, if you keep making that face, it’s going to get stuck like that,” you warned.  

“Malleus,” he interrupted, firm. You blinked up at him slowly and your hand fell back to rest in the nonexistent space between you.

“A what?”

“Malleus,” he repeated, and you felt the weight of the word dance through the air like sparks. Like an invocation, or a curse. “My true name.”

You waited a moment in shocked silence before slowly repeating your own name back at him. He startled and snorted a laugh into your neck, some of that lingering, terrible, tension finally seeming to seep out of him.

“I am well aware of what you are called, Child of Man.”

“…I know that,” you mumbled, fighting the urge to fidget. Malleus, Malleus, Malleus. The syllables sat heavy on your tongue, like your mouth couldn’t figure out how to push them past your lips. “I thought you said that dragons don’t give out their real names.”

He drew back just enough to cup your cheeks in his ashy palms, brushing a clawed finger back and forth against one of the small cuts littering your jaw.

“There is power in a name,” he said. “It is not a gift readily bestowed.”

Then why—

You swallowed, nervous, and one of his thumbs tracked the movement along the hollow of your throat.

“This way, if you call for me, I will always hear you,” he promised, eyes going flinty and venomous as he gazed at the cinder piles of smoking intruders. “And something like this will never happen again.”

“I—I mean,” you spluttered. “Me being—And this being—I mean—” You cleared your throat. “That hardly seems like a good enough reason to—to—” To put something so important into the hands of someone who literally broke into your house less than a month ago. To give something so precious to someone so human.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, that sharp anger melting back into something painfully soft. Your poor heart kickstarted itself all over again. He ducked forward to press his nose into your temple, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath as his grin sharpened into a smirk. “Though I would have liked to bestow my titles on you in other ways as well, if this little hero would be amenable.”

You squawked, and the only thing that shook you out of the immediate spiral into ‘did he really just ask me to—am I really going to be stuck in every goddamn bard’s trope existence of—of—'  was the merry laughter that bubbled up from somewhere behind you. 

“Careful, my Prince,” Lilia hummed from his place perched atop a particularly large heap of rubble. “If you come on too strong, you’ll only scare them away. Humans are flighty like that, I’m afraid.”

You could feel Malleus’s pout against your forehead.

“Not my human,” he grouched. His hands dropped from your cheeks to encircle your waist and clutch at your lower back. “And that besides,” he continued testily, “you were the one who only just this morning insisted I take decisive action.”

“That’s true,” Lilia agreed with a gentle bob of his head, resting his pointed chin against his palm. “But perhaps three sentences at least before the proposal?”

Malleus blinked, slow and serpentine, before flicking his neon gaze back to you. “That does seem fair I suppose. What do you think?”

“I think,” you gawked, trying and failing to process any of the words that were coming out of their fanged mouths, “that I am having a stroke.”

“NOT ACCEPTABLE!” boomed a voice from overhead. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FALL ILL AFTER ALL THE EFFORTS WE TOOK TO KEEP YOU SAFE!”

You jolted in shock, and Malleus’s talons flexed reassuringly at your waist as he gently turned you back-to-chest so that you could face your accuser. He nestled his chin into your shoulder, and you could feel his horns bump against your skull as he tried to burrow in as close as possible. Which all would have been thoroughly distracting, but then you noticed that one of the Gargoyles from early had landed directly across from you. Its spiked head was swiveling back and forth as it appraised you like some particularly ruffled cockatoo. And that in itself was bizarre enough to help you focus on something other than the weight along your back and the steadily rising heat in your cheeks.

“Uhm, hello?” you tried.

“WE HAVE ALREADY MET!” It screeched. “THERE IS NO NEED FOR INTRODUCTIONS!”

“It talks,” you blanched.

“OF COURSE I SPEAK, YOU IGNORANT ENTERTAINER!” The Gargoyle thundered. Its yellow eyes flashed in indignation. “HOW COULD I NOT LEARN TO COMMUNICATE IN A RESPECTABLE FASHION WHEN SERVING SOMEONE SO MAJESTIC AS HIS MAJESTY?!”

“I think,” the other Gargoyle said, slipping forward so silently you could hardly believe it was made of such strong stone at all, “that what Sebek is trying to say, is that we are happy to finally be able welcome you into our home, even if it is under less than ideal circumstances. And that we are very pleased to be able to speak with you.”

“THAT IS WHAT I ALREADY SAID, SILVER!” the spiky one snarled. No one else looked particularly bothered by his ceaseless volume, so it was probably normal. He stuck his carved nose into the air with a harumph. “AND I HAVE HEARD OF THE WAYS OF YOU TRAVELING STORY TELLERS! IF YOU BREAK MY MASTER’S HEART, YOU WILL SUFFER AN ETERNITY OF TORMENT AT MY HAND!”

Malleus growled, low and rumbling, from over your shoulder. Instantly his stalwart guardian cowed—head dipping like a kicked a puppy.

“Of course,” it continued, much softer. “I don’t think this human would do that. And—And I think my master has made a very good choice in his mate, and I will be happy to serve you too.”

Lilia sighed a sigh that sounded very much like a doting mother overflowing with parental affection. Like the kind of noise one may hear on a cozy Sunday afternoon while helping prepare dinner, or while sitting on a little, floral, couch and sifting through little paintings of grandchildren. There was still blood splattered all along his cheeks.

“It’s so lovely to have the family all together again,” he cooed. “And I do think that you will make such a marvelous addition.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you nodded jerkily, just as your knees buckled and you collapsed to the floor.

.

.

On the first day of the new month, Ace and Deuce made their way back to the forgotten castle nestled in a pool of lava.

“We should never have left them,” Deuce grumbled for what was maybe the ten thousandth time. Ace was sick of hearing it. He was even more sick of the fact that despite being constantly inundated with various versions of ‘oh, we’re such terrible friends,’ the little, twisting, spike of guilt in his gut never grew any duller. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Something-something-repetitive-exposure-therapy, or whatever? This sucked. He wanted a refund on this whole ‘conscience’ thing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to sell his soul and become a Warlock or whatever. Surely that would help.  

“We didn’t have a choice,” Ace reminded him. Again. “They’re okay. I know they are. We’re going to show up and they’ll be, I don’t know, lying in a bed of gold being hand fed grapes or something.”

Deuce made a rumbly, whining, kind of noise that made him sound even more pathetic than usual and Ace sighed, determined to instead focus on the rickety rope bridge swinging beneath their feet.

The ancient, looming, monstrosity of a building was just as cold and dark as it had been the first time. If anything, it was more filthy. With walls stained with seeping ash and the charred, skeletal, remains of something that Ace was definitely, absolutely, not going to think about scattered throughout the grime.

The two of them made their way to the heart of the castle until they were standing at the entrance of a grand, cavernous, chamber that may have once been some sort of ballroom.

Ace didn’t know what he was expecting. Slaver’s coils maybe. A chain around your ankles and rags drooping from your shoulders. Or maybe you wouldn’t even be there at all—long since swallowed down as a little, midnight, snack.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see you lounging contentedly atop a mountainous heap of soft blankets, with the master of this castle—terror-incarnate, death from above, an eldritch beast ripped straight out of legend—curled along the lumpy hills of your grandiose pillow fort, its great head nestled at your back as you reclined against its scales and chattered away. Like the goddamned, rambling, idiot you had always been.

One of the dragon’s large, green, eyes shifted towards the intruders at its door, and Ace froze in place. You paused your chattering to raise your hand with an excited little wave. Your tattered traveler’s clothes had been replaced with something silken and soft enough that it would probably melt in his fingers, and it swayed like mist around you as you made your way to your feet. You were practically dripping in platinum, and diamonds, and emeralds, and—he was going to stop counting them before he gave himself a conniption.

And yeah… it wasn’t exactly a throne of gold and gemstones, but it was almost just as impressive. And immediately indignation swept through Ace with a horrible kind of vengeance. Because how dare you actually be living it up over here when he had been so fucking worried just lying about all that cool stuff to keep Deuce from storming the castle gates?

“You made it!” you chirped, perfectly merry despite the gigantic maw full of sharp teeth hovering at your shoulder.

“Of—Of course we did,” Deuce stuttered, his blue eyes flicking back and forth so quickly from the dragon, to you, to Ace, to the dragon, to you—that Ace genuinely thought he might be having a seizure. “We promised we would.”

You stopped in front of them with a considerate little hum, sharp eyes tracing and cataloguing their varying reactions. After a moment of what was obviously some very smug preening and even smugger ‘I win this round’ silent gloating, you slipped out of the piles of entangled jewels with an exaggerated shrug. With the exception of an intricately carved emerald pendant hanging softly between the hollows of your collarbones, the rest of the infinitely expensive and rare gems fell to the ground with a series of clattering chatter.

“All that shit is so heavy,” you whined. Whined. Like you had any right to complain about anything at all for the rest of your existence. You leaned forward with a wink. “I was just hoping it’d make your thieving, money-hungry ass, jealous.” You smirked, proud. “And it looks like it worked, you goddamn traitors.”

Ace was about to splutter out the most scathing remark his spiteful little brain could come up with, when Deuce ruined everything by rushing forward like the blubbering idiot he was and scooping you up into a bearhug.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” he wailed. “We missed you so much!”

“Speak for yourself,” Ace huffed, and twinged miserably when it came out sounding far too soft. He cleared his throat and decided to take a different approach. “You know, last time I was sort of joking about the whole ‘bards and dragons’ thing. But it looks like you’ve made yourself real comfortable. And here I thought you were always super opposed to the ‘fucking my way out of my problems’ stereotype.”

However, because the universe seemed determined not to give Ace any kind of win for the rest of his natural existence, instead of getting all embarrassed and mousey, you just huffed and turned up your nose at him.

“Well obviously not as a dragon,” you complained. “Do you know how big he is? How would that even work, huh?” The aforementioned dragon lowered his gigantic head to settle on the ground at your side, and you leaned against him good-naturedly when he grumbled low in his throat. “Yeah, no,” you said to the beast, rolling your eyes. “Nice try, but no.”

Deuce immediately choked and started hacking up a lung, and Ace wanted to die.

“You can talk to it?” the redhead asked instead of keeling over.

You shrugged.

“Not like this. But I’ve learned to interpret most of it.” You wiggled your fingers. “It’s my sixth sense.”

Ace’s nose scrunched. “Yeah, right. If anything, it’s your ‘I’ve been dicked down by a dragon and think that makes me soooo special now’ sense—”

The great, ebony, monster growled and the Fighter’s mouth snapped shut like someone had taken a hammer to his jaw. You snickered goodhumoredly and elbowed your companion gently at the base of one of its long, sharp, horns.

“He’s just joking around,” you said to the winged horror. “You don’t have to get all defensive.”

There was another grumpy sneer, but the dragon simply settled more heavily at your side with a defeated sort of huff. The gust of a sigh sent a wave of scorching heat along Ace’s front, and he fought the urge to cow immediately and beg for his life. Because apparently that wasn’t going to be necessary, because you had—you had—

“Are you in love?” Deuce blurted, because unlike Ace, the Barbarian was pure, and good, and still didn’t fully understand how eggs worked, let alone the concept of Fuck or Die.

And then you surprised him yet again by getting as flustered as he’d expected you to when he’d accused you (rightly) of bending over for a goddamn fucking dragon.

But before you could answer, the dragon lifted its head to press its temple against yours. Or, as well as it could do that when it dwarfed the lot of you the way an elephant might hover over a mouse. Mostly it just ended up being a very, very, delicate head bump. A deep, warbling, purr started from its chest and rolled all the way up and past its sharp, white, canines.

“Uhm,” you tried again. “You guys are invited to the wedding, I guess.”

“The what?!” Deuce howled, before promptly falling to his knees to fan himself like a devasted matron in a church.

You sighed and rubbed at the back of your head, clearly embarrassed. You mumbled something under your breath that sounded a bit like ‘it’s kind of a whole saga, y’know.’ And Ace, in all his infinite good will, decided to take pity on you just this once. And also because you were clearly loaded now, and all good friends know that sharing is caring, right?

“Come on then, Bardy,” he smirked, leaning down to kick Deuce flatter to the floor—half to knock the guy out of his frantic spiraling, half so he could perch on his back like a chair. Because the stone floor looked really uncomfortable, and he had a feeling that trying to slip into that nice nest of blankets of yours would not end well. “Tell us a story.”

.

.

.

[TAG LIST] CLOSED

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess, @liliasleftpinkytoe

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 12 all chapters

- Lunch is a lovely affair in a quaint little trattoria that has been making world class dishes since the turn of the previous century. It seems like every inch of this city is steeped in history. The prices on the menu would blow your whole daily budget on one meal. But the scampi alla Veneziana is out of this world, and you force yourself to eat slowly, and not just inhale the perfectly prepared shrimp and noodles with a delicate lemon olive oil dressing.

John's friend, Julius, is a kind and utterly elegant older man who accepts your presence at the table with kingly grace. They speak in a mixture of Italian and English, the latter you think is for your benefit. John very generously includes you in the conversation, telling Signor Castellari that you are an artist, talking you up to what you feel is an exaggerated degree. Julius asks to see your work, and you let him flip through your new sketch book. Your drawings are a mixture of studies and whimsical travelogue, and it feels like you’re baring a piece of your soul, but he’s so gracious you feel you can’t say no. 

There is more than one sketch of Mr. Wick in those pages you did from memory with an aching heart, but the old man is kind enough not to call you out on it, or even draw John’s attention to it. You think if he did, you would simply crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.  

He exclaims over an ink and watercolor pencil plein air you did in Rome of a sunset over St. Peters with the Sant’Angelo bridge in the foreground, saying it reminds him of a special day when he was a much younger man. You offer to let him keep it, and he seems truly delighted. 

You watch with some surprise as John produces what looks like a razor-sharp knife from seemingly nowhere to carefully cut the page from your book. Julius accepts it like a precious treasure, and you are flattered to your toes.

Then John and Julius chat about older books, and Julius produces a very old looking volume, handing it over for the younger man’s perusal. As he runs his hands over the leather cover John’s eyes shine with an almost childish delight—its utterly adorable.

While they are gushing over the antique tome two intimidating men in dark suits approach the table, fixing John with a hard look. One of them has a gnarly scar bisecting his brow. They say something that sounds none too friendly. You catch the name d’Antonio—but John waves them off with a glare, insisting, “Sono ritrirato.”

You’re pretty sure that means I’m retired.

Julius watches the exchange with a sadness in his eyes you don’t understand.

Finally after some grumbling the tough men go away. John watches them with eyes sharp as a hawk’s, and something in the back of your brain titters a little warning. But you’re having too lovely of a time with Signor Castellari, so you ignore it.

When you part ways Julius kisses your cheeks and takes your hands in his. “Be good to him, bella,” he says with a glance to John. “No one I know deserves happiness more than him.” 

You don't want to contradict him about your actual relationship with John, so you just nod.

Later you ask, “Did you tell him we're...”

“No, but even if I told him we weren't, he wouldn't have believed me. Sorry. I hope that didn't make you uncomfortable...”

“It's fine,” you say, not offended in the least.

It’s more than fine.

It's incredibly flattering, really, that he thought the two of you could be a match. You're fairly sure you look like an unsophisticated street urchin next to Mr. John Wick.

“Where would you like to go now?” John asks with a little smile, as though he knows you've been hopelessly turned around for the past two days. You’ve managed to find the big landmarks, like the Piazza San Marco and the Doge’s Palace. It’s the smaller sights that have escaped you.

“Let’s go for a walk,” you suggest, wanting to see the city, and knowing you will finally get to do it unmolested with the forbidding figure of John towering at your side.

You are standing on a bridge, watching gondolas go by, when he asks you, “If I told you I have a reservation at Casa Nova, would you have dinner with me?” 

You press your lips nervously. Lunch is one thing, you know, and dinner something else entirely. Two people alone together in an intimate setting, sharing a meal over candlelight with good wine...the thought sends a thrill to the tips of your fingers that’s so intense it’s almost painful.

 “I don't have anything to wear to a place like that,” you admit. You read about it in a Condé Nast magazine on the plane, and you’re pretty sure it has at least one Michelin star. “I'm backpacking. My dresses are literally all rolled up in a bundle.” 

He chuckles at that, a low sound that tugs at your abdomen. He leans a little closer on the railing, and not for the first time this day you just wish he would kiss you.

“What if...I took you shopping?”

You raise an eyebrow to that. “Are you trying to be my sugar daddy, Mr. Wick?” You mean it as a joke, but suddenly there is something electric in the air between you. John's initial embarrassment sharpens to something almost…predatory.

It catches your breath in your throat. 

“Do you want a sugar daddy, y/n?”

You laugh it off nervously, your heart skittering about in your chest. 

“Very funny.”

You have a feeling he wasn’t joking at all.

However, like a gentleman he lets you have the out, but doesn't drop the shopping offer. 

“Let's go to the Calle Larga,” he says, and out of pure curiosity you agree. 

John's idea of shopping is taking you to Gucci.

The impeccable store is filled with beautifully crafted but honestly kind of boring goods, arbitrarily priced at a thousand dollars or more a piece. John fits in perfectly with the smartly dressed clientele, but you? You feel so incredibly out of place amidst the filthy rich people in the shop, and when you look at the price tag on the only dress you vaguely like you think you might break out in hives.

“John...”

You don't recognize it just yet, but you call him John when you're agitated, and Mr. Wick when you're feeling playful. 

He senses the desperation in that one word, and he takes you by the hand, leading you outside. 

“I'm sorry...” you say, because you feel stupid, and not posh enough by half to pull off any of the clothes in that high-end boutique. You are a bonafide gremlin, compared to the unearthly creatures in there. You do not belong, and maybe you’re a coward, but a part of you wishes John would just let you go back to your own plans for the evening. A long solo walk, a cheap slice of pizza, inevitably get lost in the maze of streets and canals, draw a little or read some of your book, before returning to your hard, lumpy hostel bed alone, where you can’t make a fool of yourself.

“Don't be,” he says with an amused little smile that makes your tide of panic recede a little. “I like it that you know this stuff is bullshit,” he soothes you. 

“I just...it’s so out of my wheel house.” You could have paid nearly four months rent for what that dress had cost.

He nods. “It takes some getting used to,” he admits. “I certainly wasn't born into this.” 

You wonder if he’ll ever tell you about his earlier life, but sense this isn’t the time or place to press him.  

“I just don't want you to spend your hard-earned money on stupid things for me.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for my money…” he offers with a wan little smile. “But it would make me happy to spend it on you. If it would make you happy.” 

You look at him for a long time. He meets your gaze, not flinching. There’s something different about him here. He’s more…open with you, perhaps? It takes some getting used to. He’d never outright admitted his interest in you before, always circling around it, and you wonder what’s changed.

Maybe not even John Wick is immune to the romantic atmosphere of il bel paese.

“Why are you being so good to me?” 

“I like you, y/n. If you haven't noticed.” The corner of his mouth quirks at that. 

It makes you sigh. 

“I like you too, Mr. Wick.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat. 

“You can call me John.”

“But do you want me to call you John?” you tease.

He moves a fraction closer, looming over you, and for a heart stopping moment you think maybe now he might finally kiss you?

“Depends,” he admits, his voice gone a little rough, but he doesn't elaborate further.

You feel as though you have a live electric wire sparking under your skin.  

He steps back a little, and again you feel the loss of him like an ache over your heart. You continue to stroll down the street. You are not entirely sure how your hand ends up in his, only that it is there, and you are content. 

None of the high fashion shops really interest you, until you pass by the window of Dolce and Gabbana, and your feet involuntarily slow as you take in the maximalist riot of glitz and color on the mannequin. You've always admired their wildly bedazzled designs, flaming hearts and candy colored jewels with copious gold embroidered trim. Maybe you’re just a crow-brained peasant who’s impressed by shiny things, but they look so fun.

John smiles a little, as though he’s finally answered some question to himself about you. “Aha,” he says teasingly, and you sigh, restraining yourself from pressing your nose to the window like a child outside a candy store.

“Can we just…look?” 

You are trying to be reasonable. 

“We can.” 

As it turns out, you want one of everything in the store.

It's all so over the top, the designs are so artistic and ridiculous and unabashedly joyful, from bejeweled purses to crown-adorned headphones, loud floral dresses and majolica printed silk scarves, and you fight not to betray which pieces catch your eye because you're afraid John might buy them all.

He is drinking in your enjoyment, looking utterly pleased.

Even just the store itself is utterly breathtaking inside, crystal chandeliers, inlaid marble floors and stone pillars. Gilded crown moulding and inlaid wood trim. You could just sit and look at this place like it’s a museum, you reckon.

John is not looking at the building though. He watches you browse with eyes that miss nothing, and it makes you squirm a little. You feel so seen. You’re not sure you like it, like you’ve been caught in the act of enjoying something that you know is absurd.

You feel absolutely silly.

“Try something on,” he urges you. To be practical, you decide to try on a black lace dress. Just in case you might like it. And a pair of black platform wedges printed with crimson red roses…because you can actually walk in them, so it makes sense, you know...

When you exit the dressing room John's gaze darkens, his pupils blown wide with desire, and once again you sense that predatory edge in him. If you had any sense you might have been scared, or at least cautious—but all it does is give you the most exquisite chills, an aching sense of anticipation, and an excess of moisture pooled between your thighs.

“That one,” he confirms, and for the way he looks at you, like you are a bunny in the woods he'd like to eat up whole, the outrageous price of the ensemble seems like a bargain.

[onlyforyoukook]

Forbidden Feelings

paring: haechan x fem¡reader

synopsis: college student haechan who has a crush on his best friend mark lee’s sister. whom by the way is COMPLETELY off limits to his friends.

genre: smau

12. GIVE IT SOME TIME

you step into the cafe, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the soft hum of chatter. taeyong is already sitting at a table in the corner, his face hidden behind a cap and sunglasses, though his posture gives away his nerves. he looks up the moment you approach, pulling his cap down lower like it’ll help him blend in.

“thank you for coming,” he says softly.

you sit across from him, folding your hands in your lap. “you said it was important.”

he nods, his hands clasped tightly around his coffee cup. “it is. i’ve been thinking about us—about what i lost.”

you shift uncomfortably. “taeyong, that was a long time ago.”

“it doesn’t feel that way to me,” he admits, leaning forward. “i messed up. i know that. but i was stupid, y/n. i thought being famous was everything, but nothing mattered as much as you.”

you take a sip of your drink, avoiding his gaze. “it’s over. it has been for a while.”

as taeyong continues talking, you don’t notice the group that walks in. mark, your brother, leads the way, his usual confident stride slightly hesitant when he spots you. behind him is haechan, flanked by a couple of his friends.

haechan freezes in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as they land on you and taeyong. his friends exchange glances, whispering to each other, but haechan doesn’t join them. instead, he slips into a seat at the far side of the cafe, his gaze fixed on you like a hawk watching its prey.

mark follows his line of sight and frowns, but he doesn’t say anything. he just orders his drink and joins the group.

“i just…” taeyong’s voice cracks, pulling you back to the table. “i miss you, y/n. i miss us.”

you let out a soft sigh. “taeyong, we didn’t work for a reason. we’re too different. and i’ve moved on.”

“but what if we tried again?” his tone is almost desperate now, his hands reaching across the table toward yours. “i can be better this time. i swear.”

you pull your hands away. “it’s not about you being better. it’s about me knowing what i want. and i don’t want to go back to that.”

you push your chair back, standing up. taeyong looks up at you with a mix of hurt and hope, but you don’t falter. “i’m sorry,” you say quietly.

as you walk out of the cafe, you pass by mark and the others without even noticing. haechan’s eyes follow you until you disappear through the door, his jaw clenched, his drink untouched.

once you’re gone, mark leans closer to haechan, his voice low. “you good?”

haechan doesn’t answer, his gaze still lingering on the door.

masterlist - previous - next

- taglist ; @injunnie-lemon @n0hyuck @beomgyusonlywife @foxy-kitsune @juyeonshour @mixxiew @minkyuncutie @thegracerammy @elsbunny @gomdoleemyson @slayhaechan

[axelsagewrites]

Courting Aemond Targaryen would include:

Pairing: Aemond x f!reader

Masterlist Here

He would be very formal and distant at first 

He would see it as something to do for his family and for his house to start

Alicent would take you in as a handmaiden or lady of Heleanas so you could spend time with your future husband 

He is just as distant in person 

Will kiss your knuckles or hand and bow his head but never speak 

But he'll watch you like a hawk when you're at the castle 

He's entranced by how you speak and move 

He starts showing up to family dinner more often when he realised you attended nightly 

If Aegon showed up for once he'd beeline to sit on your other side, Heleana was always next to you on the other 

And if Aegon spoke to you his jaw would lock and he'd stare his brother down 

It rarely worked to deter him though and sometimes seemed to stoke him on 

Of course the whole time you'd be oblivious to this as you discussed bugs and court life with Heleana

Even during these dinners Aemond rarely spoke 

One time he tried to pay you a compliment on your dress before he walked in the room with you

He stuttered so badly it barely came out before he excused himself and didn't show back at dinner for a few days 

This was when you finally started to pick up on things 

This boy would blush when you sat next to him 

He would convince himself you were only doing it out of obligation and didn't get his hopes up 

However when you attended your first ball at court he glared when you danced with Jace 

It was your first dance of the night and Aemond hated that Jace had the courage he lacked

So Aemond decided fuck it and stole you for the next dance 

And the next and next 

He was the only one you danced with for the rest of the night 

Both your feet were in agony but it was worth it 

Due to the pain he escorted you back to your chambers where you kissed his cheek 

Aemond didn't want to wash that cheek for a week and was obsessed with you after that 

Suddenly he would spend all his time with you asking you questions and listening to your stories 

You would take walks in the garden and have lunch together 

He started leaving gifts in your chambers for you 

Necklaces, lemon cakes, fine wine, silk threads, flowers 

Whatever you wanted he would give

He also started demanding to speed up the courtship and be wed 

He promised to take you out on Vhagar for your honeymoon

It was hard to get Aemonds trust but once you had it he was always by your side, protecting you and loving you 

A/N: only had time to write some head cannons for now since I need to go to a family thing but gonna hopefully write more when I'm home 🤞also will sort out tag lists tonight after that

[domxmarvel]

3K follower Boba shop event-My hero academia edition

Inspo:bestbakubros

Guidelines 

Start: March 1st 2023 End: March 20 2023

Please submit all request in the form of asks

Order:

Size

Base

Flavor

Topping

Dessert 

Please let me know what gender or pronouns you want for the reader

(Click to zoom in.If you're having difficulty reading anything you can find them in text format under the cut)

Size:

Small-Headcanon

Large-Imagine

Base:

Milk tea-fluff

Green tea-angst

fruit tea-Smut

Flavor:

brown sugar-Shoto todoroki

Matcha -Izuku midoriya/Deku

Strawberry-Mina ashido

Green Apple-Tsuyu asui 

Orange-Tenya Iida

Lemon-Denki kaminari

Lychee-Eijiro kirishima

vanila-Mezou shoji

Plum-Kyouka Jiro

Peach-Momo Yaoyorozu

Taro-Tamaki Amajiki

blackberry-Fumikage Tokoyami

Mocha-Dabi/Toya todoroki

Watermelon-Himiko Toga

blueberry-Tomura Shigaraki

Mango-Hawks/Keigo takami

Coffee-Shota Aizawa/Eraserhead

Caramel-All might/ Toshinori Yagi

Banana-President mic/ Hizashi Yamada

Pudding (flan)-Fatgum/ Taishiro Toyomitsu 

Lavender-Hitoshi Shinso

acai-Gang orca/Kugo Sakamata

Coconut-Mirko/rumi Usagiyama

Passion Fruit-Vlad king/Sekijiro Kan

Raspberry-Mei Hatsume

Topping:

Boba-Gender neutral

Popping boba-Female 

Jelly-Male

Dessert:

Croissants- “You look really good in my clothes”

Pie- Short quick kiss,followed by pulling them in for a longer kiss

Macarons- “I love you”

Éclair-“You’re the most beautiful being on the earth”

Cannoli-hero x villain

Tarts-“Come back to bed”

cheesecake- "why did you do that?" "Because I love you!" 

Sponge cake-“You’re the only person I want to spend my life with”

Brownie-Cuddling 

cake pop-Sick 

S’mores-Birthday

Strawberry Shortcake-“This reminded me of you”

Gingerbread-“Can I kiss you?”

Honey Bun-“I know you had a bad day, so I made you cookies”

Churro-“You promised!”

Cinnamon Twist-Praise 

Cookie Dough-Patching  them up 

Cotton Candy-Wedding

Caramel Apple-“You lied to me” “I did” “You told me you loved me” “I do”

Caramel Popcorn-spy

Carrot Cake-Fake dating

Cookie Sandwich-“What if someone sees us?”

Waffle-only one bed

Crepe-“I’ve never kissed someone before”

[schrodingerscougar]

You'll be mine (John Price x reader x Tangerine)

Note: fem!reader, special appearance by John Price from CoD. I'll let you decide how it ends. Will Tan win her over? Fuck it, let's vote at the end.

--

“You asked your girlfriend to join us?” Tangerine asked the moment John finished his sentence, the grimace on his face making the man believe he was completely against the idea. 

So the soldier tilted his head to the side a little, his blue eyes examining the younger man’s expression as if he was trying to figure out why he wouldn’t want his girl to spend the evening with them. He was smitten with you, he would never deny it, but he couldn’t think of a reason why anyone would think you weren’t pleasant to be around. To him, you were the brightest star in the sky, the sunshine in his dark and cold life. 

After a minute or so of silence, John finally licked his lower lip and said, “We don’t have to spend the whole evening together, mate. She’ll be here soon and we’ll be out of your hair right away.” 

Even though he said that in a casual way, the captain wasn’t as cool about it as he might have sounded to the other two men. They were probably his only normal friends, he wanted them to get along with his girlfriend, and he wanted you to be friends with them too. Just like he always wanted you to get along with his family members. If anything happened to him, he would want you to have people to rely on. 

Little did he know that the problem wasn’t that Tangerine didn’t like you. No, quite the opposite and Lemon was fully aware of that. They were brothers, he knew it from the way he was looking at you, the way he talked about you, the little comments he dropped about how much better he would treat you. It was oh so obvious to him, but whenever he asked, he was just told it wasn’t like that. “She’s a nice gal, that’s all,” was all he said usually. 

And even now, Lemon saw the way Tangerine shifted in his seat the moment you entered the pub, he saw the way his brother’s eyes followed your every move like a hawk, and he even noticed a jealous glint crossing those same blue eyes when John sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you into a kiss as a greeting. 

“My glass is empty, I’ll grab a drink. You want anything?” he asked John, seemingly ignoring you.

But he was only ignoring you because it was easier to deal with the pain of you not being his precious little doll. You seemed to be head over heels for John, a man whose taste in football teams was a lot, lot worse than his taste in women. The honorary military man, the good boy, the one who was complicated and perfectly capable of protecting you just like him.

John declined the offer before he returned his attention to you, but Lemon knew he should go with him to the bar. The two of them walked over there and occupied two empty chairs, and it was Tangerine who broke the silence, finally saying out loud what his brother had been aware of all along. 

“I want her. That girl is killing me,” he admitted with a sour face before he turned to the bartender to order another glass of whiskey. “I need to make her see that she should ditch John and be with me. I like the guy, don’t get me wrong, but she deserves better. I would treat her so much better…”

At this point, Lemon stopped listening to his brother and only shook his head as he also ordered something to drink. He needed more alcohol to handle Tangerine’s bad mood, even if he was keen to help him get over this stupid idea of his. You were taken, simple as that, and he was ready to use another Thomas & Friends reference to help him come to his senses despite knowing well enough it would only enrage him. 

And then his ears picked up a sentence he really, really wished he didn’t hear. “I’ll kidnap her. I’ll lock her in an apartment and spoil her rotten there,” Tangerine stated confidently before finishing his drink. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Lemon muttered under his breath. “All right, listen to me. You definitely cannot kidnap her. John and his friends from the SAS would quickly find you and I have no idea how far they would go to make you pay for kidnapping his girl. And if they dig a little deeper, they’ll find out what we do for a living. I like John, he’s like my only normal friend at the moment. I don’t want him to turn on me.”

Tangerine rolled his eyes at him. “Bollocks, you have a lot of friends.”

“Name one.”

“Thomas,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. 

Lemon took a deep breath to calm himself, but then he said, “Fuck you.”

Without saying another word, Tangerine stood up and made his way back to you and John, not bothering to check if his brother was following him. He immediately noticed you even in the crowd, as if there was a ray of light shining upon you, illuminating your lovely figure to stand out. But when he checked your surroundings, he didn’t see John anywhere. Did he leave you here all alone? What a bastard. Leaving such a pretty little thing on her own in such a place.

Well, that was good as he already had the whole kidnapping planned out. He would spike your drink when John wasn’t around using a drug an acquaintance of his would deliver to him, then he would take you to his secret rented apartment downtown. Once you wake up, he would give you a story about how you acted weird, and since John wasn’t around, he took it on himself to keep you safe. All because he was such a good friend.

“Where’s John?” he asked when he sat down across from you. 

You gave him a small smile, but when he looked into your eyes, he noticed they mirrored the sadness that was probably eating you from the inside. “He had to go. Work stuff,” you added quietly. 

He always had to leave for work, sometimes for weeks or months, leaving you behind all alone. Well, he wasn’t about to let a poor thing like you suffer, so he reached out to squeeze your hand. “And he left you here all alone? Why didn’t you come over to us, love?” he asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. 

Before you could answer, Lemon joined you at the table, sitting next to his brother then pushing a glass of mojito in front of you. When you gave him a questioning look, he flashed a smile at you. “Didn’t want you to dry out and miss the fun. Come on, it will help. And don’t look this sad, we’re here to entertain you,” he told you, looking over at Tangerine when he said the word we. 

The bright smile that appeared on your rosy lips made Tangerine happy, but this happiness disappeared the moment you shook his hand off of yours and reached for the glass. He could have strangled his brother at this moment. Why couldn’t he keep his distance and let him do what he wanted? Yes, he was against the kidnapping plan, but why not let him try another way to convince you? He could be a charmer if he wanted to. 

“I don’t like it when you look sad,” Tangerine noted with a small smile, having a hard time fighting the urge to reach out for your hand again. “Come on, tell me what you want to do tonight. Do you want to go out for dinner? Watch a movie? Or do you want to go clubbing?”

This made you let out a chuckle, but you raised the glass to your lips before saying anything in response. The poor man was way too impatient to sit in silence, but when he opened his mouth to tell you that he would be up for anything your heart desired, Lemon kicked him in the shin to stop him. He even glared at him as if he was ready to glue his lips together just to shut him up. So Tangerine gave up and kept smiling at you, doing his best to be patient. 

“I don’t really feel like going out. I only came here because John invited me. We were planning to go back to his place and watch a movie,” you finally explained to them. 

“That’s a great idea! Too bad Lemon has other plans and can’t stay for long,” Tangerine told you with a sigh, then looked over at his brother to silently tell him to play along. 

Apparently he got the message, because he turned to you and nodded with a sad look on his face. “Yeah, I have plans, but it’s nothing I can’t cancel,” he said. 

“Which is something you shouldn’t do. Would Thomas do that? Would he cancel plans?” 

You had already heard of Lemon and his Thomas & Friends obsession, so you couldn’t help but laugh when Tangerine brought it up. It was kind of cute, really, how the two of them were bickering so much. Lemon didn’t lie, they were truly ready to entertain you. “Okay, seriously, just go, I’ll be fine on my own. I’ll pour a glass of wine, sit on the couch, and watch some terrible reality show until I pass out,” you told them kindly. 

But Tangerine wasn’t about to give up. He leaned forward and hooked his index finger under your necklace to gently pull you closer over the table. “Not on my watch, sweetheart. Lemon can go wherever he wants, but we will have some fun together, okay?”

He would lay the groundwork with a night spent alone, showing you how much more fun life with him would be. Kidnapping you was now well behind him, he had changed his mind along the way and decided to change your mind in a more subtle way. If everything went according to his plan, you would have the best night of your life, and the two of you would plan more nights out like this while John was gone. By the time he returned, you would be ready to admit that your relationship with him was going nowhere, that with his hectic schedule and the dangers which came with his job your future was doomed. 

And then he would step forward, providing a shoulder for you to cry on, being your emotional support until you were ready to open up for new possibilities. He would be there like a loyal dog, always a phone call away, always caring, always listening. Slowly but surely you would see him as an option for a new boyfriend, and oh, he was so eager to impress you in every possible way. 

[kittyfuckincheshire]

HIS FAVORITE THING TO DO IN BED

MHA x READER ONESHOTS FLUFF,LEMON

Shoto Todoroki-

He likes to tease you,rubbing his hands up and down your body, in between your thighs, he likes to watch your body shake and shiver in anticipation.

Bakugo Katsuki-

He likes to bite your neck and push you down, he likes feeling your soft flesh between his lips, he likes to hear you moan and grab his hair.

Izuku Midoriya-

He is really sweet,he will kiss you all over and literally worship you, had a bad day? don't worry he has snacks and a favorite drink ready for you before you lay down and then when you do lay down he gives you a massage until you fall asleep.

Tokoyami-

He likes to finger you until you feel like you can't breath, rubbing his fingers on your clit, while thrusting his deft fingers inside you, curling and scissoring you. Blissfully stretching you out while placing soft kisses and pecks.to your neck. The feeling of your back arching against his chest makes him wild. He loves to dominate you and is very kinky.

KIRISHIMA-

He likes to fuck you in missionary pose,so he can look at how happy hes making you,He also likes to kiss you roughly to feel you pant, he'll also rub your sides as he fucks you hard.

DENKI-

Hes hesitant about touching you so he always wears condoms, even on his finger so he doesn't accidentally shock you. You dont mind though,he loves it when you suck him off, he loves the feeling of your tongue along his veins so Much that he spasms when you lick his shaft somtimes.

SHINSOU-

he loves tying you up and edgeing you over and over until your begging him to let you relese. Mans a tease and he can't deny it. Sometimes with your consent he'll use his quick to help you relax after a hard day, he'll even experiment incorporating his quick into sex if you wana.

SERO-

He loves to fondle your nipples and boobs, yep he's a boob guy. He likes to feel your flesh in his fingers while he stands behind you and kisses your shoulder and neck drawing moans from you. I kinda feel like he would be into bondage but that's up yo yall.

SHOJI-

He likes to eat you out while kissing and fingering you. He's gotten so good at controlling his limbs that it drives you insane while your in bed. Hell kiss you with.his real mouth while licking your clit with one of his limbs and fingers you with his hands. He will go to ex stream lengths to male you feel good.

lIDA-

He was never the one to "fuck" around in bed. Kiss,fuck and done. He never really does it for his own pleasure, but on occasion when he gets horny, he'll tie you up and slam you against the head rest.

DABI-

He likes to grind against you to tease you, and turn him on. You can feel his cock against you while he does this begging to be freed and it drives you crazy. Also this !an loves to bite you and give you hickeys all the time weather your in bed and alone.or your sitting at the bar he will be sticking and biting your neck. No shame.

SHIGIRAKI-

He likes tying you up and controlling you. He likes to see you try to hold BA k your emotions and control your self. !and a tease at times, and he loves it when you cock warm him in bed weather its in bed or while he's gaming he loves it.

HAWKS-

hawks loves to fuck you hard while useing his feathers to rub circles on your clit and tits, he loves it when you suck him off and look at him at the same time. Sometimes he'll let you preen his feathers in bed but usually he's focussed on your pleasure.

AIZAWA-

Will finger you while he sucks on your neck and he's got your hands tied up behind your back fucking you hard loves pet names like kitten and loves it when you call him daddy or sir. He's definitely one that will give you over stimulation and multiple orgasam denials before he lets you cum.

HIZASHI-

He's a loud guy even in bed hes constantly telling you how good you are for him and calling you pet names like songbird or sunshine. He's kinda like a bunny in bed he's got stamina but he is also really rough to it kinda like the perfect balance with him.

Sorry guys for taking so long to post this I had a bunch of shit happen this month and I kinda forgot to post so here is a new one for y'all to gobble up.😽

[blowingsand]

Dark chocolate

Mihawk x reader

Firearms x swords

Blood, bad language, heavy (?) intimacy, gore.

Dead dove

Maybe some NSFW

Minors,pls, get out.

Male reader. (You can see as gn also)

Continuation of Blood roses 🌹

You breathe fresh air from morning after being attacked, you find problems to sail far from your destroyed ship to search for help. As soon as you put your feet in the sand, you notice the presence.

He is here, hawk eyes are here.

You gasp and look around, a fine island with a castle and many.... ghosts around here, not the spirits or the souls, but all memories and desires that people leave behind when dies. After some walk, you were close to some ruins, nothing new to you, calm, cold, some echoes from the past, and you were alone, not a single alive person nearby. That makes you comfortable in a certain way, at least no enemy, and there was some medicine around ruins and many herbs and roots you could find some use to.

You walked more into the forest, marking some trees and breaking some branches to show you the way back. The echoes were clear; a father talks to her daughter, "and the yellow root, Camblia facinallis, are poisonous, but within 3 grams boiled in salted water can remove the toxins and become an exceptional tea for headaches." The voices fade away. You took some root with you and pass from the next tree You heard the voices, and then your the next one, soon you had enough for your crew to sail safe to some island with a doctor.

You took some time in your walk. Back to the ruins to collect the non perecible med kit, you also found some ammunition, perfect for your guns. "Why not take a rest now? The crazy swordsman must be in the castle at this hour. It's almost night." Also, some stupid idea, "I wanna relax now," you think,"will be shooting those bad fruits. " Soon, you'll realise how bad that mistake was.

After putting all the apples and lemons in a line, you start to draw and shoot the fruits. The ammunition was as new. You were happy, and you lost nothing of your potential, perfect aim, and control of the trigger. "Thanks, I know I'm good." You laughed and wave to the imaginary audience. "Maybe I should show more." You trow several oranges up and shot all at one. One bullet did all the service. That's the one thing you're good for, using guns, don't matter which, if it's blades or pistols, you were born for that.

Were... you were the best, but lose in swords to a man, and never has the courage to touch a sword to fight again. Tears rolled in your " What if someone beats me in shooting? Well, I guess I die then." Maybe it was time to make it. You draw the sword and point to some poor watermelon, you cut in four easily, then cut again each piece in four again.

What should be your next oponente? That pike of tomatoes, each one cut in half in less time than never. Next, the pears, then more oranges and mellons. You feel free.

Free, really free. "So it's it, what you spirits and the man sitting in that stone think about my show?" You stop and analyse every word you just said. What? You look back and lose your breath and colours.

"It was impressive, I must admit. But against a real oponente, what can you do?" He takes his blade on hands. "It seems you think about our last conversation, the one about honour in the battlefield. "

You hold your sword with the dominant hard and draw the pistol with the other. "I think I don't learn nothing. You're strong, ha, more than anyone in the seas, then where is the honour fighting with us? You know it, don't you? You know you can't lose."

"Intersting observation. But I don't see where the fighting fair is not honourable." He prepares Yoru.

"It's just a hunting game for you, not a duel. Moron." You point your pistol to his chest. "Come and I'll hunt you this time."

"Let's see then."

You shot first, and then he attacked. Hawkeyes send your bullet back, the one you cut easily, but let your chest open to his second hit. You jump back and find the higher ground in some rocks, then try to create a solid plan.

"You are not bad. If at least fight fair." He mocks

"Say the Spanish pimp with a sword bigger than him to none approach you." You mock back and see his expression become harder.

"It's only my strategy to win." He give it back

"And guns are mine!" You shoot him twice.

He just stepped aside and blocked the projectiles as it was nothing. Then, let the left leg free to be cut open. You find that weak point, reload your gun with three more bullets and jump to him cutting high, he defend, and you give several high and low onslaught, two high and one low. So he put you to defend and start his sequence.

So you back to attack when you shot in his eye, and Mihawk needed to defend that haki bullet. You keep your sequence two high to one low.

Except for the last line, one high and two down, the subit change took the swordsman unprepared. He loses a bit of posture to rearrange his defence, but that less than half second was what you expected. You just stuck your gun in his chin and pull the trigger.

"That's for my dead comrades, your... your..." You think a good insult fit that man, but he is perfect. Beautiful, brave, have a good smell, and you think you're starting to like him. "Your cock sucker..." You finish.

He deviates from the bullet. You are speechless.

"I think I can consider a victory to me today."

What?

A sudden pain emerges from your abdomen. He cuts your guts when you come to close. The blood runs from the open wound. You think that's your end. Fall in your knees breathing heavily.

"What happened, little rabit? Weren't you coming to hunt me?" You could hear his joy in that low and sober voice.

"It's not finished yet. Only ends when my blood runs dry, only when my air vanishes." You groan, looking up into Mihawk golden eyes.

"So let's finish"

"No. Not today." You point your gun to his head. "I'll not let you cut me like that. If I'm going to die, it will be by my terms."

You stand, shaking, but stand. Trow the bag to the swordsman. "Take it to my ship together with my sorrow."

"And what are you doing now, werido? Just accept your defeat. "

"Only dead." You put the gun in your head. "I die by my terms, as I said."

"Don't be silly, I know you used your three bullets before."

"No, I have a least one."

"You don't have. I'll end this bullshit."

He attacks your arm. That was the final chance, you make the aim and shot the last bullet you saved to this moment.

Smell of a different blood, your pistol was cut, and the impact undo the aim, but the projectile found his leg by millimetres. It's not a real injury, but you saw his blood this time.

"I said to you, fool, I would leave this world by my own terms. You lose." You laughed

"Sweet destiny.

How sweet is to depart from this life laughing?

I will find my way through the silvery waters..."

You lay in the ground. He sits beside your body.

"So, why was that for?" He questioned.

"For my comrades that died in that ship. They trusted me to be the best."

"And at the end you were, you really was my best fight in a long time, my dear. It's a pity you chose to die here. In another life, we could even have been friends."

"In another life, we could be drinking together, we all. Eating sweet chocolate."

He caresses your face gently as a lover. "If you survive, maybe we can."

"If I survive?" You laughed good. "Look to me. Could I survive with my guts exposed like that?"

"I have a good doctor in the castle."

"You're lying"

"No, I'm not. An old friend comes with his crew these days. They have a doctor. "

You close your eyes. "I don't believe. "

"That's ok, you don't need to believe things to them be true." Mihawk runs his fingers through your lips. "People don't need to believe you to you be who you really are. Not everything can be seen by eyes. I have a doctor, you are your best."

You smile and close your eyes. "Am I?" You ask for yourself.

"You take blood from me only with strategy. Be good at things you are born to be. Don't waste your life with the dreams of others."

"I ever lived only for me. That was my mistake."

Mihawk takes you close to him, embracing you softly, and ask. "Wich fruit did you eat?"

"A hito hito no mi anata. I wanted to give it a try. I thought I could be better after all."

Also know as Shin Shin no mi.

"And you found yourself?"

"Yes, I found it."

You want to live, but you can't say loud, at the end you finally did it, got your revenge. But at what cost? "I want to live." Fuck that pride.

"Good chose." The swordsman took you and headed to the castle. "You would earn nothing ding here. Just maybe the 'otherside' ."

I think I'll give it a final chapter another day.

[ao3feed-kiribaku]

My Hero Academia X Reader

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Z1W0NLh by Ace_hazbin You can request fluff and cute shit or Give me anything your freakish little minds can think of the only things I draw the line on is (non-con, shit kink, anything to do with kids) anything else is open. Character: Deku Bakugo Todoroki Mina Denki Kirishima Dabi Shigaraki Toga Aizawa All Might Endeavour Midnight Say if you want fem, male, non-binary, trans, anything you want! Words: 76, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko, Kayama Nemuri | Midnight, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Sako Atsuhiro | Mr. Compress, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Ashido Mina, Kaminari Denki, Kirishima Eijirou, Todoroki Rei, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Shinsou Hitoshi, Toga Himiko Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki/Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Ashido Mina & Bakugou Katsuki & Kaminari Denki & Kirishima Eijirou & Sero Hanta, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi, Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo, Todoroki Shouto/Reader, Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Reader, Dabi | Todoroki Touya & Todoroki Shouto, Dabi | Todoroki Touya & Takami Keigo | Hawks, Dabi | Todoroki Touya & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko/Reader, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Midoriya Inko/Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Yagi Toshinori | All Might/Reader, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Reader, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Kayama Nemuri | Midnight & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Reader, Takami Keigo | Hawks/Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor/Reader, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor/Todoroki Rei, Toga Himiko/Uraraka Ochako Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Smut, Lemon, Face-Fucking, Breast Fucking, Fucking, Fucking Machines, Threesome - F/M/M, Students, Doggy Style, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Gay Sex, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Lesbian Sex, Shower Sex, Phone Sex read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/Z1W0NLh

[ao3feed-izch]

What Would Mha characters do during (Here)

by HoneyyBunn

This book is a one-shot book full of wholesome and slightly unwholesome content. Any character, any ship (No minor x adult or crimes)! This is also a reader insert book so feel free to give y/n prompts!

Words: 116, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Multi

Characters: Yaoyorozu Momo, Midoriya Izuku, Kaminari Denki, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Jirou Kyouka, Asui Tsuyu, Uraraka Ochako, Toga Himiko, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Ashido Mina, Iida Tenya, Aoyama Yuuga, Ojiro Mashirao, Kouda Kouji, Satou Rikidou, Shouji Mezou, Sero Hanta, Tokoyami Fumikage, Hagakure Tooru, Mineta Minoru, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, League of Villains (My Hero Academia), Class 1-A (My Hero Academia), Class 1-B (My Hero Academia), Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Bubaigawara Jin | Twice, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, Monoma Neito, Shinsou Hitoshi, Eri (My Hero Academia), Toogata Mirio, Amajiki Tamaki

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako, Midoriya Izuku/Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku/Reader, Kaminari Denki/Shinsou Hitoshi, Jirou Kyouka/Kaminari Denki, Ashido Mina/Kirishima Eijirou, Iida Tenya/Uraraka Ochako, Jirou Kyouka/Yaoyorozu Momo, Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo, Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Toga Himiko/Uraraka Ochako, Amajiki Tamaki/Toogata Mirio

Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, Manga & Anime, Fan Comics, Sad, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Lemon, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Hugs, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, Late Night Conversations, Sleepy Cuddles, Morning Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses

source: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52543363