#possible oneshot dunno

[generalsdiary]

Aeon!reader x Sunday where Sunday is unexplainably, hopelessly in love with the reader and likewise for the reader who actually appears in person to listen to Sunday’s troubles and prayers- but it is impossible for a mortal to fall in love with an Aeon. in an attempt to find out how this is possible, the reader kisses Sunday and finds out, it is because in his future he almost fully succeeded at becoming an Aeon which made his life nonlinear and gave him the ability to fall in love with a god-like entity. but the reader leaves him upon this revelation (which they don’t share with Sunday) and doesn’t answer his prayers for the following years until Sunday fails to ascend to Aeonhood. and then when he just needs comfort while hiding in a hotel room, away from the authorities trying to punish him for his wrongdoings in Penacony, despite the years of no answer, he utters the name of the Aeon he used to pray to, the Aeon he loves in inexplicable ways, hoping to see them and… the Aeon appears in front of him once more.

thoughts?

[brunchable]

Are you Jealous? || B.B. [Oneshhot]

Pairings: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Jealousy made Bucky immature. Bickering. Another attempt at being funny. Summary: The guy you were talking to ruined Bucky's morning so he decided to do something about it. A/N: This is a comeback ONESHOT. HELLO, I am alive, how are ya'll? I've intended to come back earlier but health related stuff just kept on slapping me left and right. But I'm fine, this baby in my tummy is fine, everyone is fine! Expect a few sporadic posts from me as I am working on where I've left off ;__;

The morning had started so well.

Bucky took a deep, satisfied breath as he cradled his coffee mug, his soul momentarily at peace on the upper balcony. He had earned a kiss. A cheek kiss, sure, but a kiss was a kiss. And it wasn’t just any kiss—it was your kiss. A reward for heroically delivering your USB to the hospital before your presentation. He’d strutted out of there like a goddamn champion, feeling like he was glowing from the inside out.

And now? Now, he was sipping his coffee, reliving the moment in high definition, when the universe decided to slap him across the face.

Because there you were.

Sitting at the picnic table in the backyard.

With some guy.

Bucky's brows furrowed. He tilted his head. The guy was laughing. You were laughing. You were both laughing.

He squinted harder, trying to decipher what was so damn funny, when he caught the tail end of the conversation.

“So you’re telling me… you kicked him down?” the guy asked, sounding both impressed and too interested for Bucky’s taste.

“That’s right,” You confirmed with a smug grin.

The guy threw his head back, laughing like you had just told the funniest joke in existence. 

“That’s really impressive,” the guy said, his eyes glinting with admiration.

Bucky scowled. 

Then, like a demon summoned from the depths of hell at the worst possible moment, Sam appeared beside him, holding his own coffee and grinning like he had just won the lottery.

“They look close,” Sam mused, eyes twinkling with mischief, making sure to emphasize the word 'close'.

Bucky whipped his head toward him, glaring. “Hm. I don’t think so.”

Sam didn’t even hesitate. “Are you jealous?”

Bucky scoffed so hard he almost choked on his coffee. 

“Tsk. Why would I be jealous?” He pulled a face. “Honestly, if she had a brain, she wouldn’t even like dudes like him.”

"Just ask her out already." Sam sipped his coffee with exaggerated slowness, watching as Bucky’s eyes flicked back to you and your colleague. Sam’s grin widened to criminal levels.

Bucky sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “Why do I have to see your face this early?”

Sam didn't respond—he just grinned. Then pointed at Bucky. Then grinned some more.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Bucky demanded, suspicious.

Sam took another sip. “No reason. Just enjoying my morning.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before looking down again. That’s when he noticed something.

The garden hose.

Right there. Within reach. Just waiting to be used.

He grabbed it, tilting his head like a scientist about to conduct a very important experiment.

Sam’s eyes widened.

Bucky turned the nozzle.

“Bucky, don’t—”

Bucky aimed.

“Bucky—”

He fired.

A powerful blast of water shot out like he was operating a high-pressure fire hose, hitting your colleague directly in the chest.

“WHAT THE—?! HEY! THAT’S COLD!” the man screeched, jerking back like he’d been shot, arms flailing wildly.

Bucky adjusted the nozzle slightly—just slightly—to ensure maximum discomfort, the spray now hitting the poor guy directly in the face.

“DUDE, WHAT THE HELL?!” The man spun in place like a malfunctioning windmill, water soaking through his shirt at an alarming rate.

From below, you gasped, hands on your head. “Oh my gosh!”

“DUDE! ARE YOU BEING SERIOUS?!” 

Bucky took another slow, calculated sip of his coffee. “I dunno, man,” he called out, voice as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “Looks like it’s raining.”

Sam made a choking sound.

Your colleague staggered back, sputtering. “WHY IS IT ONLY RAINING ON ME?!”

Bucky tilted his head. “Must be one of them localized storms.”

“Bucky, stop it!” You shrieked, but Bucky pretended not to hear you, subtly tilting the hose again so the water jet honed in on the guy’s knees, making him slip slightly.

The guy tried to run.

Bucky tracked him like a sniper, adjusting his aim so the water followed in real time, soaking him from head to toe as he attempted a desperate escape.

“OH, COME ON!” The man shrieked, arms flailing, looking up at the balcony, “YOU’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE!”

Bucky let out a slow, amused exhale. 

“Naaah.” Slight adjustment. Direct hit to the guy’s back.

You were fuming. “Are you ACTUALLY out of your mind?!”

Bucky set his coffee cup down with a deliberate sigh. 

“Ohhh, that was your colleague?” He put a hand on his chest, shaking his head like he was deeply moved. “Damn. That’s crazy.”

Sam collapsed against the railing, crying-laughing.

You turned back to the guy, who was now dripping, shivering, and looking thoroughly traumatized, “I am so sorry, I will grab a towel.”

Bucky twirled the hose nozzle between his fingers like a cowboy reholstering a gun. “Might be best if he, y’know, went home to change.”

The guy glared at him, teeth chattering. “Not cool dude.”

Bucky tilted his head. “That’s fair.”

You looked one second away from climbing the balcony to strangle him. “Are you kidding me?”

Bucky took another sip of his coffee. “Plants looking dehydrated, he was in the way.”

The guy finally gave up and trudged off, squelching with every step.

You threw up your hands. “Are you happy now?!”

“Honestly? Yeah.” Bucky leaned lazily against the balcony. 

Sam wheezed, gripping the railing for support. “That was so petty.”

Bucky smirked, absolutely unrepentant.

× × × × 

It wasn’t planned, okay?

You just happened to be standing by the hose, and Bucky just happened to be fixing something in the backyard, wearing a tight-fitting henley that had no business clinging to his stupidly broad back like that. 

And sure, maybe you were a little pissed that your colleague—the one he soaked this morning—had turned out to be your senior doctor. The same senior doctor whose recommendation you desperately needed to become chief resident and finally get your first lead in a surgery.

But this? This was justice.

So you lifted the hose.

And fired.

Bucky jerked, his entire body seizing up as ice-cold water slammed into the middle of his back.

“The hell?!” he barked, spinning around, dripping wet, glaring.

You kept your grip firm, adjusting your stance like a sniper zeroing in on a target.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Afraid of a little cold?” you drawled, watching as rivulets of water slid down his chest, clinging to the fabric of his now very translucent shirt. His dog tags clinked as he moved, the metal gleaming wetly against his skin.

Bucky pushed his soaked hair back, his nostrils flaring. “You’ve got five seconds to put that hose down before I—”

PFFFFFT.

Direct hit to his chest.

“YOU’RE INSANE!” Bucky stumbled back, arms raised like he was taking fire in an action movie. 

“Oh, I’m insane?” you shouted over the sound of the water, increasing the pressure as he tried (and failed) to dodge. “DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DID TODAY, YOU ABSOLUTE WALNUT?”

Bucky, still getting pummeled by the water, threw his arms out. “I WAS JUST WATERING THE GARDEN—”

“WATERING THE GARDEN?! YOU WATERBOARDED MY BOSS! MY BOSS!”

Bucky froze mid-step. Blinked. “Wait. That guy?”

You turned the nozzle to jet-stream.

Bucky roared, arms flying up to shield himself as you unleashed hell. “Y/N, FOR F—C’MON!”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD I’VE BEEN WORKING TO GET THAT RECOMMENDATION?!” you yelled, stepping closer. The force of the stream pushed him back against the fence. “DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH ASS KISSING I’VE HAD TO DO?! HE WAS GOING TO GIVE ME MY FIRST LEAD—AND NOW HE HATES ME.”

Bucky, panting, ran a hand down his soaked face, his biceps flexing with every movement. “I mean—”

“NO!” You cut him off, eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to talk.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. And then—so absolutely characteristic of him—he lunged.

You squeaked, but he was too fast.

One second, you were soaking him. The next, the hose was yanked from your hands and tossed somewhere (you didn’t care where, because holy shit).

Bucky’s arms caged you against the fence, droplets of water still trailing down his neck and collecting in the hollow of his throat. His wet shirt clung to his chest like a second skin, the muscles underneath shifting as he braced his hands against the wood beside your head. His breaths were heavy, controlled, his blue eyes searing as they locked onto yours.

A very big mistake on your part was looking down.

Because that’s when you noticed the way his shirt was now practically transparent, highlighting every ridge of his abs. His dog tags rested right at the base of his throat, shiny and wet, and suddenly you forgot every single word in the English language.

Bucky noticed.

His smirk was slow. “Cat’s got your tongue now?”

You swallowed, shifting, only for his arms to press in closer. “I—”

Bucky tilted his head. “You gonna spray me again?”

“… Maybe.”

His smile widened. “God, you’re so damn cute when you’re mad.”

Your pulse jumped, and Bucky—of course—felt it.

His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice lower now, rougher. “I—” He exhaled, then shook his head slightly. “I was being jealous.”

You blinked. “What?”

His jaw clenched, as if he was warring with himself. But then—slowly, like he was giving himself up—he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. 

“I didn’t like seeing you with him,” he admitted. “I hated it.”

The confession sent electricity through you.

You squinted. “So you, who fought in World War Two, thought the best way to deal with your jealousy was to hosing down a respected medical professional?”

He grinned, dimples peeking through. “I was very efficient.”

You made a noise of pure exasperation. “Oh my god.”

And then—because you were still so infuriatingly, ridiculously mad at him—you grabbed his soaking-wet shirt in both fists and yanked him down.

Bucky crashed into you with a growl, his breath hot against your lips for only half a second before he seized control, kissing you like he was starving for it.

His mouth slanted over yours, rough, greedy, tongue sweeping past your lips like he had something to prove. And maybe he did, because his hands—Christ, his hands—slid down, gripping, claiming, fingers digging into your hips as he yanked you closer.

Your whimper only made him groan deeper, the sound vibrating between your bodies as he pressed you back, caging you against the wooden fence.

His drenched shirt clung to his body, thin and wet, and when his chest pressed flush against yours, you felt everything. The hard ridges of muscle, the heat radiating off him, the faint clink of his dog tags as he moved against you, like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss you harder or pull back and wreck you with his eyes.

You curled your fingers into the soaked fabric of his shirt, trying to ground yourself, but Bucky—the bastard—just growled again, tearing his mouth away to kiss a path down your jaw, your neck, nipping at the skin like he wanted to mark you.

Your head thunked against the fence, your legs threatening to give out, and Bucky—because he was an asshole—chuckled, his lips ghosting against your throat.

“Easy, doll.” His voice was pure sin, raspy and smug and dripping with heat. “Didn’t realize you wanted me this bad.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Excuse me?”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and wrecked, lips kiss-swollen and wet. “You heard me.”

Oh, that was it.

Your hands shot up to his stupidly hot jaw, yanking him back into another kiss, this time making sure he was the one losing balance.

He groaned, low and deep, his grip tightening on your waist like he was debating just hauling you up against the fence and having his way with you right there.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and dazed, Bucky was still holding you like he was trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms.

His forehead rested against yours, his fingers flexing against your waist like he was trying to calm himself down before he said something stupid.

You smirked, your lips tingling.

“… You’re so gonna make me come to work and apologize, aren’t you?” His voice was still thick with want, but there was a rough amusement under it.

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

× × × ×

“Come in.” A deep, intimidatingly unimpressed voice called from inside.

Bucky let out one final breath, straightened his spine like a soldier, and walked in with you trailing behind.

Dr. Harrington.

The man was sitting at his desk, reviewing charts, his expression exhausted and vaguely murderous—the exact look of a surgeon who had been woken up in the middle of the night one too many times to deal with absolute nonsense.

Dr. Harrington glanced up. His gaze landed on you first, then flicked to Bucky.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh. It’s you.”

Bucky had never wanted to disintegrate more in his life.

Dr. Harrington slowly closed his folder, leaned back in his chair, and clasped his hands over his stomach, watching Bucky the way one might watch a particularly stupid animal at the zoo.

Bucky, to his credit, put on what you were sure he thought was a professional smile but actually looked like a man trying very hard not to run.

“Dr. Harrington,” Bucky greeted with a polite nod. “It’s, uh… nice to meet you. Officially.”

The older man stared at him for two full seconds. Then he turned to you, his brow arching. “This your boyfriend?”

Your mouth opened, but—

“Yes,” Bucky immediately said. Too fast. Too eager.

Dr. Harrington exhaled slowly, like he was trying to find inner peace. “You hosed me down like a feral dog.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Yeah, so—about that. Um.”

You nudged him hard in the ribs.

Bucky swallowed his pride. “I’m really sorry about that, sir. It was… a misunderstanding. And also…” He inhaled through his nose, like saying this next part physically hurt him. “It was very immature of me.”

You resisted the urge to clap.

Dr. Harrington drummed his fingers against the desk. “Immature.”

Bucky nodded. “Very.”

The attending hummed. “And the reasoning for this very immature behavior?”

 “...Jealousy.” Bucky shifted, looking off to the side.

You squinted at him. “Speak up.”

His jaw ticked. He straightened his back and begrudgingly admitted, “I was jealous.”

Dr. Harrington blinked slowly, then glanced at you with unmistakable amusement. “Is he always this possessive?”

You opened your mouth.

Bucky, again, too fast, “Nope. Not at all. Super chill. Very normal.”

Dr. Harrington sighed, rubbing his temples. “You ruined my scrubs.”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Bucky said instantly. “Better ones. Custom-tailored. You want your name embroidered? Done. You want gold-threaded seams? Got it. You want a diamond-encrusted scalpel? Say the word, Doc.”

The older man stared. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

Bucky took a moment to process this.

Then, with the utmost confidence, “...Is it working?”

Dr. Harrington let out a long, suffering sigh.

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Bucky beamed like a golden retriever. “So… we’re cool?”

Dr. Harrington’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky your girlfriend is a damn good doctor.” He turned to you. “Your first lead surgery is still on, but if your. . . guard dog here shows up again with a hose, I will be the one hosing him down in the ER.”

Bucky gasped, clutching his chest. “Violence? In a hospital?”

“We’re leaving.” You grabbed his sleeve.

Bucky threw up a two-finger salute. “Pleasure doing business with you, Doc.”

Dr. Harrington waved a hand. “Get him out of my sight before I retract my decision.”

You dragged Bucky out the door, ignoring his smug grin.

“So,” he said as soon as you were in the hallway. “Am I officially boyfriend of the year for saving your surgical lead?”

You deadpanned, “You literally almost ruined it.”

“But I fixed it.”

You gave him the flattest look you could muster. “You bribed my boss with diamond scalpels.”

Bucky slid an arm around your waist, smirking. “I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

You groaned. “You’re the worst.”

His smirk widened. “And yet…” Bucky leaned in, voice dropping as he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re still gonna kiss me later,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin.

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest, “Go home will you?”

Bucky finally—finally—stepped back, that smug little smirk still plastered on his stupidly handsome face, “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, giving you a one last look before turning on his heel. Then just as he reached the door, he glanced over his shoulder, voice softer now, “Oh and, good luck on your first lead.” 

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @veronicapaula

[joshfutturman]

"happy anniversary" 18+

oneshot - he's anxious to celebrate your one-year anniversary, but it turns out that mike schmidt is just full of surprises. (3.4k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five nights at freddys movie) + gn!reader tags - abby is at a sleepover, established relationship, sort of sappy sometimes, pure filth tho, mike gives you lots of hickies, mike goes down on you while you're on his dining room table, alcohol mention, he maybe pours some wine on you and licks it off :3c oops, fucking against a wall, creampie, mutual orgasm, dirty talk.

a/n - i wrote this to celebrate the ten year anniversary of five night's at freddys! celebrate with me with some good old fashioned smut :3

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

one whole year with mike schmidt, and honestly? you couldn't be happier. you and abby had grown close, mike was smiling more, eating better, sleeping better - you make each other better people. he knows he can lean on you when days get dark, you provide a safe space for him to heal after struggling for so long in his own head.

however, he'd insisted on not celebrating your one-year anniversary. something about him being 'cursed'. this was a pattern with mike, being afraid to celebrate anything good in his life, as though it would be ripped from him in an instant. you tried to protest but knew it was futile. he'd made up his mind, and you knew how hard it was to get inside that stubborn head of his.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you pretended it didn't bother you that a day spent littering mike with kisses and affection was slipping through your fingers. you could do that any day, right? but what made it special was that it was going to be your day. you pretended not to be disappointed.

pulling up outside his place, you fidget nervously before exiting your car. would he even remember that it's your anniversary? maybe he'd pushed it so far to the back of his mind that it had gotten lost there. that thought hurt. swallowing your dispirited thoughts, you make your way towards the door and pull out your key, adorned with a cute little freddy fazbear keychain abby had given you despite mike's disapproval.

but as you open the door, you're greeted with. . . darkness? the usual lull of mike's living room lights has been replaced with a soft orange illumination instead. there's a small candle on the side table by the door, and then another on the coffee table. . . and another on the tv stand. you step inside and close the door gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. what was this?

"hey," his voice pulls you from your confused thoughts, your eyes darting towards the sound of mike's low voice. it's then you see him, standing nervously beside the dining table. even more candles are carefully placed across the table, illuminating the room in a soft warm glow. there's a bottle of wine, two plates with what looks to be a home-cooked meal and. . . was that wilting red roses?

mike clears his throat, grabbing the flowers to busy his hands, but also to extend them to you, a gift. or, they were supposed to be. his eyes glance down at them, the deep scarlet petals fading. he falters at the sight of them, mouth opening and then closing again. "bought 'em a few days ago to be prepared and i guess i, uh. . . didn't really think about the fact that they'd die."

you take a few steps towards him as he continues. this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing, he'd thought about this.

"i just. . . it's not that i didn't wanna celebrate our anniversary," he mumbles, looking anywhere but you, "i was. . . scared? i dunno. listen, i just-"

you shut him up promptly with a kiss, gripping the collar of his hoodie and pulling him against you. his hand instantly goes to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as he loses himself in your lips, slowly lowering the flowers in his hand as the thought of them possibly disappointing you leaves his mind.

"i love you," you whisper against his lips, snaking your hands up to cup his cheeks, "i love you." you speak it with great conviction.

between your words, he breathes softly against your lips before diving back in with renewed vigour, tossing the roses aside on the floor and placing both hands on the small of your back. his large hands grip you, fingers splayed across the fabric of your shirt as his tongue slips inside your mouth.

gasping, you melt as he takes you so confidently, a kiss that claims you as his, a kiss that eliminates the need for more words. the way he's gripping you. . . god, you're not sure he's ever held you like this, like he needs you right now or he'll die. tonight, he wants to spoil you.

his hand brushes down along your side to grasp a handful of your thigh, yanking it up and around his hip. you yelp a little and keep your leg firmly wrapped around him, allowing your hips to press closer to his, feeling that familiar bulge tease you. just picturing his length had you shuddering in his arms.

"fuck, mike. . ." you whisper as you pull back for breath, eyes fluttering open.

but he can't wait, he can't part with you for even a second. his lips are immediately on your neck, kissing up along the column of your throat, leaving small red marks that will only grow worse with time. tilting your head back, you expose more of yourself to him gladly. he could have all of you and ask for more, and you'd happily give it to him.

"you always taste so fuckin' sweet. . ." he purrs against your skin, tongue flicking out to soothe those hickies he's so kindly left behind. you can feel the hint of a smirk on his lips against your neck and it makes your knees weak, heat surging in your groin.

oh how his smirks and smiles were so rare, you cherish every single one, especially when they were for you, because of you.

in one swift movement, he lifts you into his arms and turns towards the table, laying you down against the glass. you look up at him in surprise, panting softly, reeling from his touches and the way his lips were so greedily dancing against your skin just moments before.

mike smooths his hands down along your thighs, admiring your soft skin below him, "think i want a taste of somethin' else, though. . ." his hands slide back up to the button of your jeans, popping it open and unzipping quickly.

your chest rises and falls rapidly, heart pounding, looking up at him as he undresses you. you love the way that lust clouds his eyes, those hazel hues growing darker in the dim light, eyes focused on you and only you. "can i?" he whispers, slowly inching your jeans downwards. of course, you nod.

slowly, he rolls the jeans down your hips and along your legs, taking a moment to kiss up along the skin that is exposed to him. his lips find your knee, then your soft calf, eyes closed as he savours every moment with you. tossing your jeans aside, his eyes fixate on the growing need between your legs, instinctively licking his lips. he'd cooked you a meal, sure, but here you were, bringing a meal home for him.

and fuck, your breathing hitches as you watch his hungry stare, suddenly feeling hotter under his gaze. you can't take much more - with shaking hands, you begin to remove your underwear, pulling them down to your ankles, not bothering to remove them completely. mikes calloused hands rest against your thighs, spreading you open a little wider for him as he kneels.

craning your neck, you keep your eyes on him all the while, desperate not to lose sight of him. you want. . . no, you need to watch him as he uses that tongue of his.

jerking you forward just a tad, your hips are drawn to the edge of the table with one pull. mike wraps his arms around your thighs leaning in to nuzzle against your core. his nose nudges you and you whine, feeling sparks throughout your body. finally, some friction.

"thought about this all day. . ." he grumbles, licking a stripe along you sloppily causing you to moan, "i miss you when you're gone." mike admits, and you're not sure what's hotter, his vulnerable words or the way he's looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes from between your thighs.

"missed you too baby, always do," your voice is shaky, body trembling in anticipation and from sheer need. you thread your fingers through mike's hair, your other hand propping you up on the table so you can watch him more easily.

he groans, eyes closing over as he dives back in, licking and sucking your sensitive skin. you love how fucking messy he gets like this, dribbling down his chin, wondering where you end and he begins. you want to watch him, but you reluctantly let your head fall back, overcome with pleasure, eyes closing as you huff into the air, back flush against the table beneath you.

"so good," you whine, moaning at each movement of his tongue. your free hand reaches out to grab something, anything to stabilise you, to ground you in the moment - but in your clumsiness, you almost send the bottle of wine flying from the table.

cursing, you catch it and mike pulls back, looking up to see the commotion. a grin finds its home on his lips as he sees the wine, "thirsty?" he asks.

laughing nervously, you settle the bottle back down in its place, but not before mike places a hand over yours, taking the bottle. swallowing hard, your eyes widen, what was he up to? he had that mischievous look in his eye, normally reserved for when he was feeling especially confident in the bedroom or when he was repressing a dirty joke.

he takes the bottle, unscrewing it as he stands, eyes locked on yours in a heated gaze. you sit there, legs spread, wet with his saliva, suppressing a shudder as the air of the room brushes against the damp spots on your skin.

bringing the bottle to his lips, his eyes still stay firmly on yours with an intensity that causes you to shiver, mouth suddenly feeling dry as you watch the wine spill into his mouth. your eyes fix on his throat, watching as his adams apple bobs with each swallow.

after a gulp, he wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve - good thing its a black hoodie - and speaks up, "want some?"

how can you say no? you're laying there, spread open for him, by him. you nod, maybe a little more eagerly than you'd like. but mike knew how much you loved him, how much you craved his touch. you never need to be embarrassed around him.

"alright baby, i'll give you a taste, just wait. . ." he smiles and brings the bottle down, hovering it above your core. your eyes widen, what the fuck was he-

it trickles down, the red wine coating your heat. instinctively, you gasp sharply at the wet, cool sensation, feeling it run down to your ass and along your thighs. with wide eyes, you look up at him in disbelief.

"babe, what are you-"

"shhhh. . . let me spoil you for once," he places the wine back down on the table, kneeling again as he inches closer. then, his tongue begins slowly lapping at the red liquid. he moans softly at the taste, eyes closing as he takes in the combined flavour of both you and the alcohol. he would do this all day if you'd let him, and you could tell how much he loved using his mouth on you.

the sight of him lapping hungrily at you, tongue sliding across your inner thighs, cleaning up the mess he made - it's almost too much. you're gasping and panting and arching your back against the table. "holy fuck mike," you whisper, it's all you could think to say in the moment, the words coming out automatically. it was all so dirty, head reeling at how confident mike was being today, but he was determined to make you feel good, to make up for his insecurities and anxieties of celebrating his anniversary with you.

he just wants to make you feel how much he loves you, how much he worships you.

pulling back, earning a disappointed whine from you, he trails up your body until his reddened lips are on yours, tongue immediately seeking entrance. you accept, wrapping your arms around him as he kisses you. the intoxicating taste of yourself and the distinct notes of red wine fill your senses as mike deepens the kiss, giving you the taste you asked for.

mike feels you smile against his lips, causing him to smile in turn. his cock twitches in need, he's almost painfully hard, each throb reminding him just how desperately he wants to be buried inside of you.

lifting you from the table, he turns and pins you against the wall, ensuring your legs are wrapped firmly around his. "hold on," he instructs before kissing you once more, a lazy kiss as he pushes his joggers and underwear down.

already you feel his hardened length hit your thighs and you whine. fuck, you want it so bad. you bite your tongue to stop yourself from begging him to fuck you nice and hard.

"can i fuck you like this?" he asks in a hurried whisper, panting softly as his hands return to hold you up by your thighs, pushing you a little harder against the wall. even in the heat of the moment, he wants to make sure you're comfortable.

your head spins at the question, and you nod quickly, "please, fuck me."

bringing a hand down to position himself at your entrance, you gasp as you feel his slick, leaking tip against you. he does the same, hissing softly at the contact. once he feels himself easing him, he moves his hand back to your plush thighs, digits digging into the skin.

mind blank, head feeling empty, all that you can think about is how perfectly he's pushing into you, how perfectly he's stretching you out right now. your head rests back against the wall, eyes closed as you adjust to his girth. his saliva and remnants of the wine drip down against him and onto the floor, but he doesn't fucking care.

his eyes watch your expression shift with great interest, watching at every subtle shift, the way your eyebrows twitch, your mouth falls open as his cock slides deeper. . . god he fucking loves you.

"that good baby?" he asks, voice husky as he attempts to keep his composure.

you simply nod, biting your lip as he slides in all the way, his hips meeting your thighs with a soft smack. you both sigh in satisfaction, you're full of him, but it's not enough, he needs to move.

and shit, it's like he reads your mind, because he does. slowly, he begins pistoning his hips up into yours. gradually at first, keeping a slow and steady pace as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. soft, needy moans slip from your lips as he fucks you, back pressed tightly against the wall.

his name sings from your lips, gripping the base of his hair and his back. he loves how you say his name, how it drips from your lips so sweetly. he bucks his hips a little faster in response, his body moving without thinking. his stubble prickles at your neck as he groans softly against your skin, brows arching as you clench around him.

"just like that," you coo, fingers dancing through the curls that find their home at the back of his head, "don't stop. . ."

mike didn't plan to. he'd fuck you forever if he could, truly. it was always such a serene experience with you, helped his mind go blank, clear those poisonous thoughts. . . mind filled instead with thoughts of fucking you, hearing those pretty little moans, making you cum on his aching cock and burying his load deep inside of you.

and that's exactly what he plans on doing tonight.

one whole fucking year, one whole year. mike wonders how he got so lucky to have you, he prays to a god he doesn't believe in that he'll never lose you like he's lost so many things he's cherished.

"love you. . ." he suddenly whispers against your neck as his pace increases, slamming into you with a force that takes your breath away. the hurried shift in speed has you reeling, gripping him tighter, every thrust pushing you back against the wall.

"f-fuck mike!" you call out, gasping, "love you too baby, don't stop. . . keep fucking me like that, just like that."

he groans deeply, his voice rumbling against your neck as his grip on your thighs intensifies, growing tighter - just like you are around his dick.

you're close, he can tell, and he's not far behind either, lost in a haze of how much he loves you. your thighs begin to tremble against him, your whole body tensing as the pleasure coils and weaves in your lower body, settling across your stomach.

oh fuck, this might be the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced. this angle, the way he's pumping up into you relentlessly, how can it get more -

he looks up at you, sweat beading on his forehead, mouth stained red from the wine, "cum for me." mike pleads.

oh. fuck. it got hotter.

"gonna cum-" you whimper with a nod, arching your back against the wall which allows him to go deeper, hitting that sweet, sweet spot.

when he hears those moans, he knows he's got you. you're gonna cum for him, gonna cum all over him just like he wants you to. he pants at his exertion, thrusting harder, the room filling with sounds of skin slapping against skin. his eyes lock on your face, watching desperately for the moment you fall over the edge.

"c'mon, baby, cum for me. that's it. . ."

and you can't hold back. the orgasm rips through you like a tornado, filling every sense, dismissing every thought, quelling every worry, until everything is just him. it's just him and the way he's fucking you and looking up at you like you're the most beautiful and perfect thing he's ever seen, like he'd go to the ends of the earth and back just to make you smile.

you're moaning like crazy, practically screaming as his dick hits that spot over and over with the way you're angled and the way he's pumping up into you. you clench around him frantically, involuntarily through pleasure, causing him to gasp and for his eyes to grow hazy - a sign that he was about to cum too.

fuck, you love the way his face shifts when he cums. the way his brows relax, mouth falls open, eyes growing distant as his cum fills you nice and deep. and you feel it, the white, hot sticky mess emptying inside of you causing you to moan even more.

you both gasp in pleasure as it overcomes the two of you, mike's thrusts faltering as he empties himself into you. your eyes lock together, watching as you unravel for each other.

as the overwhelming sensations begin to subside, he leans in, capturing your mouth in a hungry, sloppy kiss. you return the favour, chasing his lips with equal messiness - coming down from your high.

"happy anniversary baby. . ." he mumbles against your lips as you smile, swallowing hard as you feel him slowly leak out of you.

you pause, glancing behind him to the table and the meal he'd so generously and thoughtfully made for you, a slight sadness in your tone as you speak up, "shit, sorry. . . think the dinners gone cold?"

"don't need dinner, i already had my dessert," mike chuckles cheekily, kissing the side of your lips, then your cheek, then your nose and back to your lips again.

and you giggle under his onslaught of affection, "yeah, but i didn't. . ." grinning, you lick your lips and glance downwards between you, his dick on your mind again already despite him fucking you senseless just a few moments prior.

his brows raise, a smirk overtaking his features - now all he can imagine is that pretty little mouth of yours wrapped around his hard cock. it wouldn't take him long to get hard again. maybe this anniversary thing wasn't so bad.

mike kisses you once more, pressing you more firmly against the wall as he allows a hand to travel up and rest at the base of your throat.

fuck, if this was your one-year anniversary, what was your two-year anniversary going to be like? your ten-year anniversary? your legs go weak at the thought of mike fucking you just like this for the rest of your life.

"happy anniversary, mike."

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[eveningepiphany]

something about the legs | h.s oneshot

summary: something about your best friends legs really does it for you, especially in skinny jeans…

warnings: besties with unexpected and very impulsive benefits, oral sex (mrec), lots and lots of talk about those mfing legs and thighs, dirty talk, h not expecting you to be like that until you are.

a/n: so it’s been a hot minute… hi again🤪 but something rlly just sent me spiralling with this pic of h’s fucking legs. look at them. anyways, enjoy me being a slut and channeling it into some fine literature, enjoy xoxo

———

Ovulation week is a curse. An absolute, utter curse.

Between the multitude of random fluctuating symptoms and skyrocketing hormones, you feel dreaded enough as it is. But the worst part, is every fucking month you become absolutely manic with need.

Some are increasingly better or worse than others, but this month is something off the charts.

There is no warrant for you to be this fucking horny at 9:32pm on a Thursday night. Yet here you are, squirming because you’re around someone that already riles you up enough as it is.

Harry is your best friend. Has been for years. Since the awkward starting phases of middle school. All braces paired with horrendous fashion choices. And into the ages of highschool throughout all the drama and predictable thematics. Into the present, where life throws you curveballs as you enter the world as young adults, and now that he’s in one direction. You can’t imagine going through all that with anyone else.

Actually, maybe it’s fit to mention you’re almost certain that this man never went through an awkward phase… despite the fact possibly everyone else on the planet did. Harry did not.

He was cute from the day he was born, it’s evident in the pictures, up until he hit puberty, then he became some ungodly mix of both cute and ridiculously hot.

It’s disgusting that someone can do both things at the same time. And also revolting that they can have no idea at all.

But tonight, he is all hot. Between the way he’s dressed, the way he’s walking, and the way he’s talking. It’s close to killing you where you’re sat.

Thighs clenched together like there’s a thousand dollar check between them, you sit on a outdoor couch at your family’s holiday house.

It’s just the two of you outside on the large decked patio. It’s a huge house by the lake that your parents and grandparents own, so you invited Harry to come stay for the week. Your family were thrilled you invited him, but have already turned in for an early night. Since they planned to be out on the lake for a day of water activities almost before the damn sun was even fully up.

Harry has a glass of alcohol in his hands— one that is completely dwarfed in his hold. It’s condensation forming small droplets over the ridges of his fingers.

He hasn’t realised the staring you’ve been doing, as he paces the deck talking about something to do with a recent song he’s been writing.

You’re sliding in small hums of agreement at the appropriate times without even hearing what he’s saying. Only the pleasing lilt in his voice that tickles your ears as it enters them.

He’s got those black skinny jeans on, the pair that cling to his hips for dear life. And not only are they fit to his hips, but they hug every single curve on his legs. The thick of his thighs all the way down to the muscle of his calf.

And if anything was the killer for you tonight, it was those.

You’re surprised you’re not drooling on yourself. Which is fucking disgusting, but fact. As there is an over-production of saliva in your mouth right now just looking at his legs.

He is so muscly there. The presumed strength of his thighs makes you actually pant, and you never thought legs did it for you like this. But my god right now, they certainly are.

“But I jus’ dunno Y/N,” he turns to you, causing you to snap your gaze from the curve of his ass which you were shamelessly just staring at, back to his face.

It doesn’t get better for you anywhere you look. The man was built and sculpted by a god. Every feature was painstaking to look at, and not be able to touch.

“What d’ya reckon would sound better?” He asks, nonchalantly, unaware you were just eyeing him up.

You feel some shame now, as you scramble to find an answer for the question you don’t even know the context for.

“Well, i think whatever you feel flows better. Yknow?” You swallow, praying to god it’s diluted enough of an answer that he’ll just take it without question.

He nods, and relief floods through you, “i s’pose you’re right.”

However that relief hardly lasts long, because he’s not as clueless as you’d presumed, “You’re pretty good at giving advice even when you’re only half listening.”

He saunters over from the span of deck he’d been pacing the last 10 minutes, sitting down next to you with a smug look on his face. You feel the cushions dip with his body weight, and you’re so delusioned that even a part of you twinges with desire at the understanding of his weight. The idea of him pressing it down on top of you during—

“What’s on ya mind, love, why are you s’faraway lookin’?” He asks, sipping at his drink with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.

“I—“ Christ. He’s manspreading a bit right now… thighs pushed apart, “I’m just tired. Been a big few days.”

His curly, and boyishly-messy hair is cascading over his forehead and casting a shadow of his green gaze, the same one that’s nailing you where you’re sat right now.

He doesn’t look very convinced. And he’s watching your eyes flicker around, looking guilty of a lie, presumably the words that just came from your mouth.

“You don’t have t’lie, dove.” He laughs, a soft songbird-like chuckle that somewhat eases your tenseness.

You feel so dirty for thinking about him like this. When he can’t tell you it’s okay to be imagining absolutely sinful things you’d do… or let be done when it comes to him. However, you are so hormonal right now, that you don’t have it in yourself to stop.

He was just simply the wrong person, in the wrong place, at coincidentally the right time in your hormonal cycle.

And you feel even worse because there’s years of history behind the two of you. And friends are not meant to think of each other like this, it makes things quickly complicated. And this is not a hallmark film.

“I know.” You sigh out, “it’s not you, H. I’m just… hormonal.”

His first thought was that you were on your period, a look of tender concern flitting across his face.

“Oh, is your period making you feel sick?”

You could laugh at the irony. You are infact neither of the things he thinks. Not bleeding, and not ill.

He has looked after you before when you’ve been in the trenches with your period. He is always so willing to get you anything when you’re not feeling well.

And you can tell by the look on his pretty face he’s about to ask you he can get you anything to help— pain relief, water, snacks or simply a hug.

A gentleman, as always.

But if he asks you if you need anything, you only have one answer and that’s him. You need him, and not in a platonic way. So you interject before he can ask,

“No, quiet the opposite.” You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“But it’s fine,” you amend curtly, “just girl stuff.”

The two of you get consumed by a momentary silence, he was waiting for more information, which you simply were not giving. After a few seconds, he sputters out a sudden laugh.

“You can tell me, if you want, idiot.” He laughs, nudging you with his knee. His very attractive leg being left pressed into yours. “Gross details and personal stuff never usually stop us.”

Your whole body is burning up, overwhelmed. He is so fucking hot, and caring. You want him filling up your goddamn throat.

“No, trust me. This is all left best untold and ignored. I can’t help it, so we’re just ignoring it.” Your tone is certain, and to this he nods. Able to tell that’s as much of an answer he’d be getting for now, so he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Fine, fine, you’re just so stiff. Need t’relax.” He slides his free hand behind your back to pull him into his side.

Tugging you the small distance between you two, your head comes naturally to rest in the crook of his neck. Nose inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, smelling like the refreshingly cool breeze on a muggy summer night.

His thumb strokes a delicate back and forth rhythm on the bare skin it’s found between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your fitted top.

It’s killing you, because he’s so gentle with you. Such a sweetheart really, but you’re breaking out a sweat at the feeling of his fingertips against your skin. You need a cold shower.

You try not to let your eyes wander down to the legs in those fucking jeans.

“S’long as ya alright,” he murmurs into your hair, “is there anything you need from me? ‘Cause if I can do anything for ya, yknow I would.”

Your stomach drops, how are you even supposed to answer that. Your face heats with even more guilt.

Your internal voice drops in her two cents on the question— your cock, she confidently stated. That was what she wanted.

“No, nothing you can do that’s reasonable, H.” You say, too dangerously close to him dragging the truth out of your needy mouth for your liking.

He tilts his head down to look at the profile of your face, curiously prodding further, “How unreasonable are we talking?”

“Ridiculously and foolishly unreasonable.”

“Why?”

“Sh. Don’t make me tell you, because I don’t want to.” You state defiantly, rolling away from his hold, since now you’re talking about it— although vaguely— it’s just making it worse.

Focusing on it is making the need more intense, your eyes feasting unintentionally on his muscled body relaxing on the couch.

He’s got this smirk on his lips. One you want to kiss off.

“You’re blushing, is it that bad?”

You scoff, “Yes, that bad.”

“Okay… so, it’s not your period, and it’s technically fixable— since you just said it’s unreasonable for me to do it… not impossible.” he’s wondering out loud, watching your every move.

Which now you’ve stood up and started pacing, trying to distract yourself from the pulsing between your legs and the begging voice in your head that wants to touch him so badly.

“Stop being nosey! God!” You frustratedly whine out, and he laughs at your sudden anger at not only him, but at seemingly just being a woman.

“Just trying to help, baby, don’t get mad.” He teases, and between his suddenly mocking mouth, your resolve snaps like a fickle twig.

“Fuck, I’m horny. Harry!” You groan out, covering your eyes over with the palms of your hands so you don’t have to see his likely disgusted face at your confession.

But now that you’ve started you can’t stop, “You just… your fucking legs and thighs are just… I don’t know! I’m ovulating and you’re just really sexy, it’s frustrating and I really want to die right now, H.”

In reality, his brows had just shot up with surprise, lips parting in shock. He could not believe you just admitted that.

He glanced down to his legs. He’s just in jeans, it wasn’t like he felt as though they were anything to write home about.

It shocked him that you even… well obviously the two of you are best friends. But it was rare that topics of sex came up, so all the sudden the conversation being about that and also about you is making his head spin.

Yet something comes over him, he doesn’t think as he speaks his next words, “Tha’s not as unreasonable as you made it out to be.”

You snap your hands down from your face, eyes locking onto his— he doesn’t look repulsed or uncomfortable as you had originally expected. He looks inexplicably open to the topic.

“I’ve got somethin’ you need, somethin’ that can fix it, love.” He states, shrugging his shoulders, his voice going almost sultry, “An’ yknow what I said, hm?”

At your silence— because you’re too stunned to even speak— he finishes the sentence for you, “Said I’d do anything for ya.”

Oh, is this quickly snowballing.

“Harry!” You shake your head, it feeling so wrong to be talking about this with him.

He abandons his drink on the small side table beside the couch, standing up and breaching the distance between you.

“Jus’ say the words, and then im yours.” He lowly whispers, and this is about to make you pass out. You’re clenching around nothing in your underwear, and the proposition is so tempting.

“We shouldn’t though. It’s not your responsibility to… satiate me.” You gulp out, nervous, yet body flaming with heat.

“Y/N, best friends help each other out… tha’s all it has to be, jus’ me making y’feel better.” he says, hand coming to run down your upper arm. And the second you started talking about this, his cock has been twitching where it’s confined his jeans.

“You can make all the decisions, all the calls, m’kay?” The statement was reassuring.

You lean into his touch, caving without anymore of a fight, “Okay… alright. Just… tell me if you change your mind. Please?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, feeling his hand get taken by yours. It’s much to risky to be fucking around with your best friend on the families patio, so you lead him down the steps into the dark, open backyard.

They have a pier, that’s lit with small solar lights, and that’s the first place you can that is reasonable enough to go. You tug him along the wooden decking it has, feet drumming against it.

Against a tree was too dark, and you at least want to see his cock if you’re getting the opportunity to touch it.

“On the pier, hey? That desperate.” He teases, and you push him with your free hand into one of its big wooden pillars.

“I want your cock down my throat, how’s that for desperate?” You scoff, pulling a laugh of pure shock from his own lips.

“I’m serious, H.” You look at him, stone cold expression. You are so riled up and ready to touch him that you need immediate confirmation this is something he wants.

“Go on, said you wanted it.”

Before you sink down onto your knees, you question him further, “you want this, though?”

A smile spreads over his mouth, “baby, you’re gonna be able to feel just how much i want this when you get down there. I was bricked the second you said you were horny.”

That was all you needed, dropping to the ground on your knees— now with his consent, your filter completely disappeared.

“Fuck me, Harry. I don’t think you understand how sexy you are.” Hands immediately coming up to squeeze the muscle of his thighs.

He hums a noise as he looks down at you on your knees, “Never thought legs would do it for you, but here we are.”

“Only thing i could think about is digging my nails into your thighs…”

You drag your hands back up to where the buckle of his belt laid, grabbing at it and undoing it. Slipping it out of the loops in his pants in a swift movement.

Leaning forward, you lift the hem of his black shirt, pressing your mouth against his happy trail.

You’re a slut for that little teasing patch of hair that dips below his low jeans. It causes you to whine out, a wordless sound of appreciation as you peck kisses over it.

The button and zipper quickly got undone by your nimble hands, and you finally brush over the prominent bulge that’s perked up in his boxers.

A realisation that you’re about to see your best friends dick for the first time kind of hits you, causing you to roll your lips between your teeth.

His suddenly strained voice comes from above you, “fuck, Y/N, don’t get shy with me. Y’can take me out.”

He’s almost ready to beg, even though this is all technically for you. But he didn’t anticipate how sensitive he would be when it’s a special girls hands running over his bulge.

However that’s exactly how it is, he’s already biting his lip as you cup him through his briefs, head tilted backwards with a sudden shared need.

You draw his jeans further down, “patience, im just enjoying you, pretty boy.”

The doting nickname earns a small groan from his lips, paired with the fact you’re now mouthing at his inner thighs. They’re warm and firm, dusted with dark hairs. You suck the most inner and upper part of his thigh into your mouth, causing him to grunt out.

You busy yourself with that particular part of his skin for a moment, rubbing the backs of your hands around the flesh of his ass. Still unfortunately covered by his briefs.

“So fuckin’ good to me, H.” You muttered into his soft skin, dragging your nose over to kiss the fabric covering his hard cock.

It makes him twitch, “letting me do this… and touch you where I want.”

You sound so out of it, replacing your mouth with your hand momentarily so you can go back to kissing his thighs, teeth impulsively barring over them. He shudders at the sensation.

After a bit more teasing, you finally start to pull the waistband of his black calvins down.

When his cock is fully out, you moan. You straight out moan at the sight of it. It’s glistening tip is a flushed red, beading out a sliver of precum for you, and it was safe to say he’s well equipped.

The two of you curse in sync as you hold him in your hand, feeling the weight as you stroke gently.

“Christ, tha’s good.” He curses out, hips stuttering forward slightly. You take a moment to look up at his face.

His cheeks have gone a slight red, and his lips are shiny from his teeth and tongue constantly running over them. Not to mention the way his lidded eyes are gazing down at you.

You hold eye contact as you lean in to lick over his tip in one solid stroke, watching his face twist in pleasure.

It makes your core drip. Seeing his cock, tasting it, watching him react to your touch. It fuels you to take his tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Your fingers take refugee digging into his thighs, and you are already loosing you mind with him between your lips. Somehow, you’re almost convinced you could come just from sucking on his dick.

Your self control is completely shattered now, you draw back and spit over his length, listening to him groan out as he watches the action.

“Drool on me, darling.” He says, the gentle demand makes you eager to impress him. You liked the idea of him telling you what to do… maybe even forcing you.

Fuck, you are sick and twisted, you scoffed internally at your self. Yet proceeding to gather your saliva and let it dribble down onto him.

“Thank you, thank you…” you murmur against him, and he twitches at your still airy voice. He would kill to know just how wet you were between your legs.

It was such a sight for you though, seeing him start to get slicked up with your own spit. Your mouth reconnected with him, sliding further down, hand coming up to massage his balls.

You’re whining around him now, starting to move in a sort of rhythm over his cock. You can’t help it, you were becoming frantic at him filling your throat.

The vibration of your mouth sends his hand flying into your hair, drawing a cuss from his lips, “fuck, Y/N…”

You get his cock as far as you can into your mouth without gagging— you’ll leave that for a little later— stroking the remainder. There’s something about the way he takes up the space between your lips, the feeling of his thick cock atop your tongue.

You glance up at him, fingertips teasing the inner parts of his thigh. Just as you look up, you give a harsh suck, hollowing out your mouth and lathing your tongue on the underside of him. Feeling the vein that runs along him.

His head almost bangs back against the wooden beam he’s leaning on, you feel the slight stutter of his hips.

A moan reverberated around you, filling your ears pleasingly. You draw back for a breathe, “you taste so good.”

His hand curls in your hair, panting out, “You’re such a needy girl…”

“Like that?” He asks at the whimper that come from you, “like being told that I see how desperate y’becoming?”

You nod immediately, “please…”

At your way of asking for more dirty talk he smiles, “becoming my little slut? Warming my cock with your mouth just because you’re so horny for it.”

When you don’t reply with words, and only a senseless moan, he taps your mouth with his fingers gently.

“Show me, baby.”

You part your lips almost instantly at his command, jutting your wet tongue out, ready to take him back into your mouth.

He guides his cock back between your lips, and that’s about as far as he gets before you have to take over from him again. All he can register is how hot and warm you’re mouth is as it wraps around him again.

You start to bob your head, taking him all the way down your throat with a slight gag. You’re whining without warrant now, all over his spit slicked cock.

It’s paired with his own moans of pleasure and words of praise as you suddenly draw back, flicking over his wet tip with your tongue, teasing it and making him grunt.

Your soul existence quickly slips to being just about his cock and hearing his noises. Being able to look up at him and see the sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead, and the mess of his soft hair.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he has to forcibly open them every so often to see you. A reality check for himself that down on her knees, is his best friend. Drooling all over his prick with a insatiable need.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He states as you take him all the way down your throat again.

“Taking me like the slut y’are. Might ‘ave to fuck you like one later, how’s that sound?” His mouth has gone loose now, brain muddled with only thoughts of you in it.

You suck and nod over him, brain rioting with a yes at his question.

“Probably so wet, so warm.” He mutters in half thought, and the idea of him even thinking of you like that makes you clench multiple times in your panties.

You roll you hips against nothing which he is grateful he caught with his half lidded eyes. The look of sheer desperation that crossed your face.

Moving faster, you starting taking his cock at a pace that immediately made his hand coil tighter in your hair.

“Fuck… im gon’ come faster than I’d like if y’keep— shit— doing that.” He moans, and you draw back quickly.

“Need to taste it… please, Harry.” You beg, forcing your throat back down around him once you’d got a breathe.

You gagged around him in full this time, earning his hips bucking against you.

Strings of dirty talk and cusses were flying out of his mouth, like a litany being repeated over and over. He kept praising you.

“That warm mouth…fuck… fucking me so good baby. Want to keep y’down there for hours, like m’personal little cockslut.”

Your nails dug into the backs of his meaty thighs, making you moan around him. Spit was covering your chin as you moved hastily over his hard prick.

“Like that idea?” He asked gruffly, “making you drool all over me like this until I’m empty, an’ y’ve come in y’panties to the point you’re dripping.”

You feverishly bob your head, sucking hard against him. If his bucking hips and loose mouth are any indicator, he’s getting close.

A few more minutes of your mouth, and he’s swearing, “im gonna come, dove— fuck— where do y’want it?”

Trying not to stop to long, looking up at his flushed face and blown out eyes, you lowly plead, “on my tongue, please…”

“Good slut, good fucking girl!” He slurs out.

You draw back to his tip, eager to taste him properly. You spit messily over his pulsing red head, kitten licking over it while your hand fucks the rest of his length at a fast pace.

It has him a wreck, and before he know it, he’s moaning out so loud he’s almost scared he woke someone in the house up.

“Fuck! I’m going to come, baby, im gonna come!”

You watch in completely infatuation as his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops into a gasp for air. You feel his hips stutter, and his cock pulse and twitch as it releases onto your awaiting tongue.

He tastes so good. You feel ashamed for even liking it that much, but as it spurts out his tip and drips onto your lower lip, your insane over it.

You rub it in with his tip, coating it over your tongue, and he pants as he opens his eyes to watch you.

It’s a sight etched into his mind forevermore. The fact his come is painted all over your tongue right now.

“Swallow it, pretty girl, let me watch.” He exhaustedly instructs you, voice raspy and deep in his post orgasm haze.

You do as told, and realising some has spilt even onto the corner of his thigh now that you’ve let him go.

Not letting it go to waste, you clean it off with a lick of your still eager mouth. Gently kissing over the spot as well.

“Taste so good, H.” You whisper against him, moving over to kiss his tip a final time.

“Thank you, again. For letting me do that…” You almost feel more satisfied than you would have if you had gotten to come as well.

“Made me feel amazing, baby.”

Or so you thought, because once he raised the point again… “If you want, since I can only imagine how desperate your little cunt is, I can return the favour somehow?”

And it was impossible to say no when he looked like that, boxers still half down his beautiful legs and face flushed that sexy shade of red.

You were in for a night, that was for sure. So much for an early morning.

———

[slashingdisneypasta]

Erik Destler x CleanersDaughter!Reader || Oneshot

Plot:

"Its a dance. And sometimes they turn the lights off in this ballroom. But we'll dance anyway, you and I. Even in the dark. Especially in the dark. May I have the pleasure?" - Stephen King.

Warnings: Meh. I dunno. Its unedited though.

You grew up in the opera house; you father cleaned the place, and you had no mother so you came with him every night. And since you were old enough to blend in to the background, you were allowed to wander to your hearts delight. You knew every single nook and cranny of the place- but your favourite spot in the whole building was still the stage. The big, beautiful stage your father kept shiny as silver, if would could be shiny. After everyone went home and your father went to see to the foyer that was always a terrible mess after shows, you would take off your dirty shoes and slip onto the stage.

Thats where you learnt to dance, all on your own; Replaying the nights music in your head, eyes closed. You liked it that way. No audience, or critic, save for the ghosts you were sure haunted this place.

Well, the ghosts and Him.

He was no phantom to you, he was the just Erik. At first you had been afraid of him; you were young the first time that you saw him in the shadows and you truly thought you glimpsed a real-life ghost! But as you grew older, saw him more and more frequently, you realised there really was nothing so sleepy about him as a ghost would be; wandering the halls without a moments rest day and night.

And he wasn't scary; at least not to you.

He wouldn't approach you for years, seeming quite content in his lonely existence. Avoiding you and your father, and every single other soul who walked these grounds- but you would hear his music, when everyone else had gone home for the night and it was just you, your father, and him. Eventually you even managed to sneak up on him; tell him how beautiful his music was. He threatened you and ran away immediately... but a few nights later he returned, and when you asked for the honour of dancing with his music this time, he allowed it.

Now after years of companionship, seeing him every now and then behind the walls and in his box, you would call Erik your dear, secret friend.

And he was no ghost; just a very complicated man.

Tonight when your stocking-clad feet touch the familiar, polished wood of the stage, your favourite place in the entire world, you take a deep breath and close your eyes. From the middle of the stage, you could see the entire opera hour if you opened them. Sometimes thats too intimidating to start out with.

Every nerve ending in your body buzzes gently at the anticipation. Like it does every night that you slip away from your duties with your father and sneak up here, your body sings for movement. All it wants to do is dance; Who are you to deny it?

You're just relaxing your muscles, a tiny smile niggling at the corners of your mouth, when the feel of leather touches your hands. You give a sharp gasp, eyes shooting open- but immediately relax and give a nervous giggle; shaking your head at Erik before you holding your hands. "You scared me!"

"I meant to." He smirks, fond and mischievous.

"Hmph. What can I do for you??" You ask, fake-impatient. He knows you're joking by the grin on your lips. You know what he wants.

"I was hoping for a dance tonight. I don't know anyone who does it better then you, Y/N."

... damn. He knows how bad compliments like that get to you. Your talents will never be seen by anyone, save for him and your father and possibly your future husband (If that ever happens. You aren't particularly interested in that; despite your fathers suggestions that you'd be happier. You're perfectly happy.), but to have Erik say that you're that skilled?? Better then the ballet girls?? You cant deny the man anything after that. Damn him.

You give a sigh; fake irritated. "Well. How could I deny a gentleman with such good taste?"

His grin widens at you, but only for a moment before he focuses. Erik would never interrupt your moment on stage doing what you love, and not take it seriously; he would see it as terrible insult. He understands.

"... what kind of music?" You whisper, wandering what notes you should play in your head. You always leave this part up to him.

"How about a waltz? Slow, intimate." He's serious now, like he always is talking about music. Giving a nod, already playing the appropriate music in your head; music you've heard him play before, you place one of your hands up on his corresponding shoulder. His figure so familiar to you now its just like returning to this stage night after night.

"I'd like that."

~

When you end the dance back in the middle of the stage, the same song coming to an end in both of your minds and your foreheads together, you're both silent. You gaze downwards, vaguely down at Erik's boots and your grey stockings, vague-minded and still lost in the feeling of being swept up in a waltz. You don't notice the heavy thoughts swarming his mind as if he'd been aching to tell you something, or frown on his face that accompanied it- for he never wears a mask with you. He knows you don't fear him, you aren't disgusted by his disfigurement. You're his closest friend and companion, and the kindest soul he has ever known.

"Y/N... you've heard of the new chorus girl?" He finally speaks, not moving to shift away from you, or look you in the eye. Almost not wanting to leave this place at all.

You're surprised at the turn in topic, eyes flickering up to his. "Yes?"

"... I've been tutoring her."

"Oh thats wonderful Erik!" Immediately a warm smile spreads across your face, raising your head. No longer touching- until he grabs you by the arms and draws you in close to him again; surprising you. "Wh- "

"We've been working privately. I took her to my domain. She's... she's a beautiful person. So talented."

Gently, you lay your hands on both his shoulders this time; attempting to stabilise him. "Thats amazing. I'm so happy to hear this, Erik." Truly you are. You always feared you would be his only human companionship, save for the women at the whorehouse down the way-- but this is a little different then that. This is friendship. Maybe more. You're delighted to know even if you leave, find that unlikely husband that may happen one day and move in with him, that he wont be alone.

"... Happy??" Erik doesn't sound- doesn't look- like that pleases him. He looks baffled. A little upset and frustrated.

"Yes, of course!" You beseech, a kind smile still on your lips. "You're my dear friend! I just want you to be happy. Does she make you happy??"

"I- " He still looks utterly baffled, shifting his gaze downwards, pained by his racing thoughts. The mood has completely changed, here. "Yes. I think so."

You give a gentle laugh. "Then what's the problem??"

His eyes, always so so intense, snap back up to yours and you're stunned by the ferocity there. "... I don't know. I thought perhaps you would have a different answer."

Slowly, you're starting to get a new feeling. Did he think you would be displeased? ... Why would he think that? "... like what?"

"I'm not sure." He's averting his eyes again, but you're not having it. Knitting your eyebrows together, you lean in so he has to look at you, your heart beating erratically in your chest as if you're at the very edge of a precipice.

"How would you answer if I told you I met someone?" You beseech, direct and to the point.

All of a sudden he doesn't have words. Erik, doesn't have words. You find that wholly convenient for him.

But you see the darkness that descends over his whole face, and that gives you your answer. Your lips part in surprise, eyes widening again with realisation.

You didn't know.

You don't know what it was, or when it was that your feelings shifted- or even for how long they've been changed. And you have absolutely no idea how you failed to notice it either.

There's a reason you never truly imagined finding a husband; why you never even cared.

You've already been in love for a very long time.

"You... you want me to be unhappy you met a beautiful woman," You say, gently. Broaching the subject with abject care. As if it is easy to startle away, like a mist. Your lower your gaze, thinking. Your fingers dig into his cloak; fingernails scraping against the black wool. "... you would be displeased if I found someone,.. you complement me, you trust me, you care for me- "

"Yes." He seems to be waiting for you to say it first.

Taking a deep breath, you look up a final time at Erik. You're about to say it, to ask him if he is saying he loves you, when you both hear footsteps coming down the hall and you freeze. Erik looks abjectly annoyed; even angry, at the doorway across the theatre.

Your father is coming right now.

~

"Y/N?? All done now honey, we can go home now."

Erik flees from you into the shadowy back of the theatre in a heartbeat, and you're left alone and suddenly very chilled; as if you truly did meet a ghost this time, when your father walks in across the theatre.

"Come on! I'm tired; I'm sure you are too."

"I'm just gonna get my shoes." You say, giving him a nervous smile.

Your father nods, not noticing the difference in you, the excited nerves, and touches the wall on his way out; like he always does. "See you tomorrow night, old miss."

You give a hopeless sigh, going to get your shoes as you said. On your way out you whisper your own goodbye, for the first time. "... see you tomorrow night, Erik."

Faintly, you hear a beautiful piano melody play somewhere deep in the opera house; his waltz. The exact one you imagined in your head when you and Erik danced together earlier and thought he was imagining, too, but couldn't be sure. You grin to yourself; you cant wait for tomorrow night.

[walkrawr]

₊˚ෆˎˊ˗ Walker Scobell secretly dating Male! Reader !

just like we promised . . .

✴︎ small oneshot of Walker and Y/N gaslighting Leah and Aryan

✴︎ made this for fun and because there’s literally zero walker scobell x male reader don’t come for me pls 💔 I hate posting fanfics just kill me atp it’s so embarrassing idk why

✴︎ !!! I am not trying to sexualize or label Walker in any way possible, this is purely a work of fiction.

There was a certain art to keeping a secret. It was like throwing a pebble into a stream—small, subtle, and easy to overlook, blending in so well that no one would ever think to look for it.

Walker and Y/N had mastered that art.

It’s not that they don’t want to show off each other or that their friends and family won’t accept them, it’s just easier to keep it a secret (and more fun).

Their relationship was never hushed conversation or stolen glances across a room. It was insults, sitting just a little too close, knowing exactly what made the other laugh— it was acting normal. Just normal enough that no one ever looked twice.

And right now, at some restaurant booth with Aryan and Leah across from them, no one was looking twice.

Even though they should.

“Okay, Donnie Darko is such a mindfuck. Like, the whole time you’re watching, you think you get it, but then the ending just hits you like a ton of bricks. Also Jake Gyllenhaal was a fine fucking guy in the movie too—“ Walker leaned closer to Y/N, his voice quiet.

“Yeah, I know. We literally watched the movie last night. ” Y/N muttered, more focused on whatever is on his phone.

“You’re not even listening,” Walker teased, nudging him lightly. “I’m just saying, the whole thing, y’know? time loops, fucking Frank, the plane crash. “

“Shut up already.” Y/N rolled his eyes, finally turning his head to look at Walker slightly smiling. “Donnie Darko is a amazing cinematic film, got it.” He mocks Walker, snickering.

He scoffed, “Can a man not talk about a movie?” Shaking his head, feigning offense.

“God, could you two stop acting like a couple?” Leah cuts in, chewing the straw of her sprite.

“As if we aren’t,”

“What.” Aryan finally looks up from his phone as Leah blinking as if she misheard.

Walker’s eyes flickered between the confused two and Y/N, “What?”

Aryan just stares at Walker before scoffing, “What do you mean ‘what?’ You just said—“

“Said what?”

“‘As if we aren’t?’” Leah whipped her head towards him, repeating what he said.

He exchanged a look with Y/N, brows furrowed. “No,” Walker sneers, pretending to be confused. “I didn’t say that? What?”

“You literally did?”

“Nuh-uh, you’re probably just tired, Leah.”

“I know I’m not tired, you said it.”

Y/N looked at Walker, suppressing a smile. “Wait, what did you say again?”

“I dunno. I think I said, ‘As if we would’ or something.” Shrugging his shoulders, acting as if he forgot.

Aryan tilted his head, puzzled. “That’s, that’s not—“

Walker reached over the table to give Aryan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s just a misunderstanding.” Aryan raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

“I’m never talking to you guys ever again.” Leah let out a frustrated groan as she leaned back into her seat.

Walker looked over and gave his boyfriend a small smile. Their secret was still theirs to keep, the pebble untouched.

[rapunzelbro]

The amount of times I have refreshed the angel dust x reader tag----Anywayyyy, I dunno if you do hurt/comfort (if not that's okay please ignore this lol) but here is a idea for a oneshot! GN!reader x angel dust where they're in a secret relationship because he's trying to protect you at all cost from his boss (reader can know about his situation or not its up to you!) but Valentino somehow found out about it and is pissed about it. You can use creative freedom to fill in the angst parts and whatever happens next, but please make it have a happy ending ^^

Imagine being in a Secret Relationship with Angel

Omg yeah I can! I wish there were more too so haha I shall provide I suppose. This is uh. Super angst. But I promise it’ll be a happy ending lmao I promise. Thank you for requesting. Just a reminder yall my requests are still open! Just give as much details and I’ll make it happen. Anywho enjoy!

Masterlist Character Taglist

Being in a relationship with Angel Dust wasn’t often easy, Well at first that is.

When you first met Angel he always had his guard up, on some sort of drug at all times, and pushed serious conversations aside with Sexual remarks to drop the conversation entirely

So when you were able to actually break his walls months later, it was honestly a shock to you. Because damn was he stubborn. Honestly you didn’t think it would be possible

He started telling you small things about himself after the first month of letting his walls down, introducing you to Fat nuggets, and watching movies with you.

After the third month, he tells you his real name is Anthony. You said it suits him and you swear you see him blush

The fourth month is when you ask him out. He is super hesitant on accepting, but you don’t push him for an answer, he later comes in your room

“Y/N.. I.. I want to say yes, but I’m so terrified ya know? I just can’t I don’t know what would happen”

“Why would you be terrified?”

He tells you everything. Everything about the man who tears him apart, the man who hurts him on the daily.

He is trying to hard to explain how terrified he is of you getting hurt, and all you can do is gently take his hands as you look at him

“Angel, nothing will happen, no one needs to know but us. If you’re scared still, I get that, I’ve been there before. But I’m not scared of that prick, and he won’t find out okay?”

He finally makes eye contact with you and he begins to calm down, hugging you as you two just sit in silence before he quietly responds

“Then, I accept”

It’s months after that when he introduced you to his Best friend Cherri. You two are super hesitant about telling her, but you eventually decide to.

She’s super super happy for you two but don’t think she won’t get super protective

Will pull you aside at the club when Angel isn’t there

“If you hurt Angel you and I are going to have a problem okay? You break his heart I break you”

Yeah she scared the fuck out of you for that. Angel never did find out about your conversation.

It’s been almost a year of hiding your relationship when it suddenly begins to turn sour

The calls from Valentino, get more frequent, more violent on the phone.

Angel comes back to the hotel limping, bruised and bloody

You practically sprint and grab him, carrying him to his room take care of him the best you can, talk to him when he is ready, or be a shoulder to cry on.

Angel doesn’t know why Valentino is being more violent, he didn’t do anything wrong, he kept your relationship so quiet that it was basically impossible for him to know about you two

Except Valentino did find out. He heard Angel talking in his dressing room to you, he investigated throughly after Angel said I love you, to you.

Valentino got Vox to look at the cameras around Hell, he saw you two together. You don’t hold hands at all, not in public, if it wasn’t for that phone call, he wouldn’t of thought anything of it

“That little whore is going to fucking pay”

You and Angel are at Val’s bar after Angel reassured you he wouldn’t be there. You two are talking when Angel stands up to grab you more shots

That’s when Valentino appears, gun pressed up to the back of your head

“I Wouldn’t move an inch if you want to live perra tonta~”

You’re absolutely frozen as can be. You don’t move a bit as he leans closer to you

“I have all eyes on you, I know you’re with Angel Dust, you’re fucking with my property. Now here’s how things are going to go down tonight if you want your precious Angel Cakes to live. You’re going to break up with him, and stay the FUCK away from him. Do I make myself clear?”

You are silent visibly shaking as he presses the gun harder as he becomes impatient with you

“Do I make myself clear!”

He sounds absolutely pissed as you quickly nod your head frantically

“Perfect, now fucking leave”

You don’t have time to explain to Angel Dust but you leave before he makes it back with your shots, Valentino is no where to be found.

“Y/n? Where did you go” “Amore mio?”

You didn’t reply to his texts, you didn’t know what to do, you were trapping yourself in your room.

You were in a panicked state as the tears just didn’t seem to stop, nothing made sense, you two were so so careful? How did you fuck up?

Angel knocked at your door. No answer. He knocked again before he eventually used the spare key you gave him, which you forgot about

Angel instantly rushed over to you when he saw you crying, which caused you to flinch

He instantly froze in his tracks when he saw you flinch, concern building

“Y/N what happened.. why are you crying”

You are struggling through sobs as you explain what happened, Angel is so fucking pissed he can hardly contain it but has to for you, he just listens as he sits next to you

“Amore mio, i shouldn’t of I left you alone I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that asshole found out but I’m not fucking this relationship up because of him”

“But he will kill me”

“Sweetie, there’s a thing called acting you know, all we have to do is play the part, pretty easy for me, as you’ve seen.”

He takes your hands with a slight smirk

“I’m not letting him fuck this up okay? Who cares what he thinks? Val is literally blind as shit, I’m surprised he even knew it was you. Probably had to have someone point you out to him”

Yeah that made you laugh, which Angel was thankful for.

For then on, you two had your ‘breakup’. You were never seen in public together, or not without disguises. You had most dates alone at the hotel together

You weren’t letting the one good thing to happen end because of a stupid fucking moth

And he wasn’t going to either.

Angel Dust tag list: @vendetta-ari @brithedemonspawn @satansmanager @storydays @saturnhas82moons @zamadness @fizziepopangel @saitisfied @the--rebel--fae @mcueveryday @rainbowbunny15 @molarloo

[theallianceofcelestials]

Hi there!

I saw that you are/were friends with the creators of Stellar Remnants and as someone who knows one of them irl and has heard their non-stop yapping about your stuff I took it upon myself to ask what that little rat is too scared to ask!

What would the SEA Family’s reaction be to the relationships developed within Stellar Remnants?

Also, to give some relationship breakdowns that I actually do surprisingly have permission to share from CoastxlWater’s themself:

You don’t see much of the celestials in the main fic, but from my friend’s rambles about the what-ifs and oneshots series the Remnant Family do infact think about the celestials a good bit to where there are technically relationships

Eclipse hates moon basically, but a good chunk of that hate stems from fear and the knowledge of knowing Moon won’t give up. Since as we know, Eclipse was infact once Moon and so he knows how the bot would act.

Solar Flare would infact do the same thing it did to KC to Moon if it ever gets its claws on him, you don’t mess with Flare and especially not its father.

Bloodmoon wants to basically harass everyone in the celestial family. But due to Eclipse’s creative threats and tracker planted in them they haven’t tried anything yet, or atleast that is what Coastxl has told me about the upcoming prompts.

No one in the Remnants family hate Sun so to say, but no one exactly likes him. Eclipse and Bloodmoon with their distrust of the sunny animatronic and Solar Flare carries its own opinions on Sun.

Eclipse still cares about Lunar, and Bloodmoon does as well but neither would say they like Lunar, because they don’t. Surprisingly it’s Flare to have the major problem here, because from what Coastxl has told me Flare doesn’t appreciate the kids actions. Flare apparently has strong opinions on why Lunar was wrong to turn on Eclipse, especially because Moon’s own treatment of Sun. So Flare is the one who mainly dislikes Lunar.

Surprisingly no one in the family have strong opinions on Solar, and apparently one line Coastxl does have planned for a future chapter is, “Solar? I don’t care for Moon’s little lap dog, I mean yeah he helps Moon and all but they are family who usually treat each other right so it’s understandable, though Solar is a pushover. People pleaser, even.” - Eclipse

Same as Solar no one has strong opinions on Earth, they all kind of just ignore the cheerful ‘sister’ and only plan for Moon, Sun, Solar, and Lunar ever finding where they are. Or really Eclipse is the only one planning and worrying, Bloodmoon and Flare are just trying to get Eclipse to stop worrying.

One thing they all have in common though is a hatred for Monty, and yes that does include Bloodmoon. No one really likes Monty.

I think their relationships with KC are shown well enough in the making fic, Coastxl said they might try developing the hatred and fear more through more night terrors and maybe even a few complete group hallucinations, so they do have a deep fear of KC is all I’m saying.

And before you ask, “how do u know u have permission to say this if they don’t know about you having all of their socials and links to the stuff they like?” Well, they said and I quote: “hm? Oh yeah you can spoil it if you want it’s not like it’s some huge surprise or anything- oh your asking this for possible future blackmail huh? Well fuck you I could give less of a fuck about you spoiling this, HAH”

I dunno if we're on friend levels yet, though tbf I don't really do any of these online friendship things often thanks to crippling anxiety 👍

Also they didn't shut up about my stuff? :0 Somehow I'm still surprised people seem to like my stuff, haha

Also, if anyone tries murdering me in my sleep because of this post, I'm throwing you under the bus <3 /silly

Weeeeeeeell, SEA and SR are pretty different relationshipwise, which would be a surprise to the SEA family.

Solar Flare and Eclipse wouldn't be able to imagine a father-son relationship between themselves, though Solar Flare would understand Flare's attachement to Eclipse, because it's also pretty attached to its own. Even if differently.

Killcode would be greatly saddened there's such a shitty version of himself, and he'd be torn between trying to fix their opinion of him and staying away, if only because he knows more now about trauma and those sorts of things. He too wouldn't want to see the people who caged him and his family in, so he can understand why the Remnants family would want to stay away. Doesn't mean he wouldn't be very tempted to change their opinion tho

Bloodmoon would find how Flare is so much younger an amusing difference they'd use to tease their own brothers. It's too good an opportunity to waste. They just have to do it.

Lunar would be freaked by the dislike of that Solar Flare, used to his brother being reliant, protective, quietly loving and most importantly, patient and always there. He wouldn't know what to do with a version of them that's more hostile with him.

Moon would once again be surprised while also not about just how much he sucks. He wouldn't blame the family though, because he knows he's awful. He would feel more comfortable staying away.

Sun would take one look at it and shrug. He can't do anything, it's none of his business, if those people want something they'll approach each other and work out their issues. He's more than aware family can be complicated and there can be lots of resentment and hostility and dislike, especially with everything that's going on. He also wouldn't be offended by someone looking down on him, because he's aware at first glance he really does appear pathetic.

Over all, the SEA family is surprised, sad and disappointed by the state of the Stellar Remnants dimension, but not like they can do much about it. They have to decide to change their relationships if they want to be something different. Although they'd prefer if these people didn't try murdering each other

(Also, SEA Eclipse thinks the four arms are cool and wishes he was built like that too. Everyone else is just glad the sleep-deprieved fuck doesn't have another pair of hands to overwork himself with)

[daydream-cement]

Beautiful Girl

Larissa Weems x Reader

Comforting Larissa so she feels as beautiful as you know she is.

Author’s Note: Short little oneshot! Enjoy!

“Sweetheart!!” Larissa held her dress by the bodice as she called out for you. The dress was incredibly fitted and there was no way for the blonde to keep it up without it being secured to her form. “I need you to come zip me up!”

You straightened your suit jacket in the mirror and grabbed your watch, beginning to fasten the wristwatch when you exited the bathroom. The sight of Larissa in the silver sequined gown caused your watch to tumble to the ground. You reached down quickly, scooping up the watch, eyes never leaving the blonde’s backside.

The headmistress was all too busy checking her hair and makeup in the mirror to even notice you becoming entranced with her body. Hearing the watch hit the floor, the headmistress knew you were now in the bedroom, so her voice rang out once more, “What do you think, darling?”

“Good- It’s good-“

“Good?” The compliment wasn’t enough to keep the shapeshifter’s negative self-talk at bay. She placed a hand to her stomach and began twisting and turning, a frown growing on her face as her eyes scanned her own body. “I just don’t know… Maybe I’ll wear something else.”

“No. You look- good in what you have on.” Your eyes narrowed at Larissa’s lack of appreciation for her own body. Your hands found the shapeshifter’s zipper, holding the frustrated blonde still and preventing her from shifting about to find minor flaws in her form.

“I’m just not- I don’t think I can pull this dress off…” The headmistress stood still with a huff, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror, "Is it too much, honey?"

"No, not at all.” In order to make your point, you began zipping up Larissa’s dress, trapping the blonde inside the fabric, the full hourglass of the shapeshifter’s figure becoming more evident. Slipping behind the blonde, you rested your hands on Larissa’s hips, giving them a firm squeeze before winding them around her middle, “You look great."

Larissa accepted her fate, adjusting the bust of the dress, teeth biting at her bottom lip as she stared at her own breasts, "I...dunno, there's- They're out there." While Larissa had grown to love her body more than ever since starting to date you, this was one of those days that she simply couldn’t shake the hatred she had for her body. Tonight her body would be out on full display, making the blonde grimace at the thought.

Your hands moved back to your wife’s hips, turning her around to get a glimpse at Larissa’s front side with your own eyes. You started from the bottom, working your way up, eyes lingering on the large expanse of cleavage exposed by the glittering gown, "Mmhm, but they look fabulous."

“Oh...” The blonde began to pout, hands coming to fidget with your suit, straightening out bits of fabric nervously, “I just don’t feel very beautiful tonight, darling...”

“I’m sorry that that is the case tonight, my beautiful girl. Is there any way I can possibly change your mind? Kiss the places you don’t feel are beautiful?” Taking Larissa’s hand and preventing her from messing with the fabric of your suit any further, you pressed a kiss to the blonde’s palm, beginning a trail of kisses up her forearm, turning your gaze to look at Larissa when you reached her elbow. “I want to show you that you are beautiful. If not to yourself, then to me. My opinion ultimately doesn’t matter, but I hope that you might believe that what I’m saying is true.”

Raising a hand to Larissa’s cheek, you continued speaking your mind, needing your wife to know how much she was truly loved, “There are days where I do not feel beautiful, and you always always make me feel like the most gorgeous in the room- in the world, even. I want to do the same for you as well, baby. Anything you need, I will give to you tenfold, you know this.”

With a shaky breath, Larissa pulled you to her, hugging you to her chest with a crushing force, “Your words helped an incredible amount, my sweet darling. I don’t know how I ever survived part of this life without you.” Pulling from the hug, Larissa’s hands came to cradle your face, pressing kisses all over, leaving lipstick marks in her wake, “I love you so much.”

You meant to respond, but you were somewhat delirious from the affection from Larissa, not conscious of the fact that your face was covered in Larissa’s lipstick. Your love struck gaze brought bubbling laughter from the shapeshifter. Before you could see her face, Larissa took your face in her hand and reached for her phone on the dresser nearby, needing to take a picture of you.

The shapeshifter gripped your chin between her thumb and forefinger, placing one last kiss to your forehead. With her voice sweet as ever, Larissa held up her phone, snapping a photo of you, “Smile for me, baby.”

Not only did those words of affirmation help, but your love struck gaze made the blonde’s heart feel so full, the frustrations of her dress began to fade. She even distracted herself by removing the lipstick from your face, the comforting proximity with you beginning to calm the shapeshifter.

The event went wonderfully. Your comfortingly possessive grip around Larissa’s waist the entirety of the social event. The blonde received more compliments that night than she ever had before, but none of which meant as much as the little whispers from you throughout the night. For once, you both even stayed until the after party, Larissa perching herself on your lap for most of the evening, your smug and satisfied smirk maintained for each second Larissa was attached to you.

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @weemswife , @smutuniversesblog , @opheliauniverse, @teashock , @enchantressb , @alex-nyx , @renravens , @whenyouhaveanobsession , @scream-queenlover , @shyladyfan, @lilfartbox1, @rubberduckiesbathing , @mcufanisme , @peanutbutterprincess, @larissaoftarthweems , @sicklygrlsicklygrl , @lvinhs , @myzzjolanda , @principal-weems09 , @xuukoo , @brienneswife , @dumbasslesbi , @oculusalien , @sweetderacine , @giogwensversion , @milciak , @gela123 , @thevillagegay , @katiemcgrathsbitch1 , @naomi-m3ndez , @mysaviorfalsegod , @h-doodles , @salems-spaghettios , @imgayforwoman69 , @bychrissi, @alexusonfire, @weemssapphic

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

My "Will Do's" and "Won't Do's" for writing, along with my ships list:

Will Do:

Character x Character (ships list is on another post though I'm open to more)

Character x Character x Character

Character x Reader

Character x Reader x Character

Character x (My) OC

(My) OC x Reader

(My) OC x (My) OC

Child Reader (these will be platonic)

Sibling Reader

Parent Reader

Relative Reader

Female, Male, Enby, Trans, Demigirl, Demiboy, and Gender-Neutral Reader

Platonic

Romantic

Oneshots

Headcanons

SFW (Angst and Fluff, possibly gorey/horror stuff)

Stuff to do with Sonic.EXE (I love Sonic.EXE stuff, esp The Disaster and Dimensional Coalescence)

AUs (but please please please give me details first-)

Won't Do:

Incest

Anything NSFW (MAYBE suggestive, huge maybe)

P3d0ph1lia (just- no.)

Anything alcohol/being drunk-related. I'm not good at nor am I comfortable with that stuff.

Character x Tails, Cream, Charmy, Kit, Nine, or Eggman (romantic) [the only exception to this is Stobotnik] {their EXE variants count for this too}

Reader x Tails, Cream, Charmy, Kit, Nine, or Eggman (romantic) [again, the EXE variants count}

Writing for most of the characters from the IDW or Archie comics (the exceptions being Sally, Surge, and Kit because I find them neat)

The Babylon Rogues because I just don't know enough about them

Love triangles that don't end in all three characters (or the two characters and the reader) being in a polyamorous relationship

Character cheating on Reader or the vice versa

Crazy/Mashed! Tails x Reader (Romantic) [I'm sorry but I'm just not comfortable with it]

Anything regarding self-harm/suicide (I just can't man. I'm sorry)

Espio x Reader (dunno enough about his character)

Ships that I'm fine writing for (not including x Reader stuff cuz I write a lot of that):

Sonadow/Shadonic

Sonamy

Shadamy

Sonknux/Sonknuckles

Knuxamy

Silvamy

Sonaze

Silvaze

Sonilver

Sonurge

Shadow x Surge (a rarepair I like)

Surgamy/Surgeamy

Sonally

Sallamy

Knuxadow/Shadknux

Shadilver

Shadouge (though it will most likely be platonic)

Knuxouge

Blazamy

Sonexe

Sonadow.EXE/Shadexe/Exedow (another rarepair I like)

Sonamy.EXE

Sonknux.EXE

Sonally.EXE

Sonouge

Stobotnik (the only exception to the Eggman ship rule)

Silvazeamy

Sonknuxadow

SonadEXE (an OT3 I don't see often but I love it)

Shadknuxouge

Sonadilver

Sonamyshad/Sonadamy/Sonshadamy

Metonic (ehhh- huge maybe tho)

Metadow

Metamy

Sonic.EXE x Metal Sonic

Blaze x Amy x Sally

[jesterwriting]

(for that timeloop post,, uhm this relates to the whole body horror thing ((not too much just a brief mention)) so if rn u don't wanna see that SCROLL AWAY!!! OR DELETE ME!! OK disclaimer ends here)

oh man but what if Law did say room anyway and there were impossible scars on your insides... like littered everywhere, they're not fresh but old, almost phantoms that make no sense, because if they were real you would've died. how would he react to that? maybe not when he noticed them crying but after weeks or months, dunno, where they keep skipping his more thorough check-ups (where he uses his devil fruit) since they're anxious about the pains? and think that somehow there are signs of their previous deaths and the mention of them makes it hurt more and more and they just can't do it. but they can't bring themselves to say it because who could possibly believe them? if Law doesn't, it would just feel even worse, won't it? even if they understand his point of view. maybe they even die in front of him and it gets harder to just hold all of that in,,, oh boy. if you think about continuing your oneshot i'll eat it like a starving animal!

pairing: law x gn!reader

contents: slight body horror, slight gore, timeloops, suicide done to restart the loop, hurt/comfort, happy ending,

word count: 1.6k words

note: OHHHHH I LOVED THIS IDEA OH MY GOD. absolutely so smart. anon your mind is huge and i had so much fun doing this request. <33 i really hope you enjoy :33

playlist: caribou - tanya tagaq

a sister fic to this

This had never happened before. You had experienced hundreds of loops, maybe even thousands, and this was the first time Law saw fit to scan you with his Devil Fruit.

Maybe you were getting sloppy. You had a strong immune system so you never got sick, and the first time Law scanned you for your general checkup upon joining the crew, there was nothing of note. You wondered what changed, as if you hadn’t died more times since you joined his crew than you had in your entire life. Maybe it was because the more you suffered, the more reckless you became, throwing yourself into the fray with little regard for yourself. You could take a bullet for your crewmates, so you would. It was as simple as that.

There was a first time for everything, you supposed. A first death, a first breath, a first kill; there were uncountable firsts that one could experience, and you had experienced most of them.

Not this one, though.

You had tried to avoid it for as long as possible. Your captain was a man who carried burdens, ones almost as heavy as the ones on your shoulders. If he knew how many times he failed you — or how many times you failed him — you knew he would take all the blame for himself. As if you hadn’t been the one lying, and fighting, and dying over the course of countless lifetimes.

Law blinked a few times before his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. You fidgeted under his stare. If his reaction was anything to go by, he found something horribly wrong with you. While you had experienced slow deaths before, you had never experienced what it felt like to waste away from disease. Maybe you’d find out this loop, you thought, trying to feel nonchalant about the idea and not like you were about to throw up.

“Um. What’s wrong,” You tried.

Law shushed you, the blue glow from his room still surrounding you. You bit your tongue, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt to try and take your mind off of whatever he could have found.

“This can’t be right,” He muttered, one hand cradling his chin. He pointed to your chest. “There’s a scar inside of you, it looks like a puncture wound through your lungs. When did that happen?”

Three loops ago when you fell off a building and onto some rebar. That was a particularly awful death. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was Law’s panicked expression as he tried to put you back together again. There was terror in his eyes. You tried not to think about that part.

“And here,” Law continued, pointing to your abdomen. “There’s a scar running across the length of your stomach. It almost looks as if you were previously disemboweled.”

You had been. Multiple times. It was a common and very disturbing loop ender that you tried to avoid if you could. Watching your organs fall out of you in a steaming heap was never something you liked to experience, but for some reason, your opponents kept aiming for the gut. You wished they’d aim for the heart or the head more often. At least then it’d be quick.

He didn’t stop there, jaw falling open when he stared directly where your heart was. “When were you stabbed, Y/N-ya, this looks recent.” Law blinked a few times before realization dawned on his features. His eyes shot to your face, expression going from open to unreadable in seconds. “How did you survive without my intervention?”

Your mouth was dry. How were you supposed to respond? There was no way you could tell him that you had died on his watch more times than you could count. Law didn’t deserve that. Your captain was a good man, one you loved admired far too much to allow this to weigh him down. He would take your failures to heart, completely discounting the amount of times that he had saved you from having to start anew.

You must have been quiet for too long because Law was speaking again. “Answer me.”

“It’s from a long time ago,” You said.

That was a lie. It was from the previous loop. A quick death by your own hand over the cold corpse of your captain. If Law didn’t survive, there was no point in continuing, and if there was one thing you had grown accustomed to, it was taking your own life after one loss too many. You knew how to make it quick, no suffering. So with a precise hand, you drove your knife into your chest and let the timeline begin anew.

When you saw Law again, whole and alive, you vomited. You were under the impression that he believed that you simply ate some bad seafood, but from the concern that was slowly etching its way onto his features, you weren’t so sure of that now.

“Don’t lie to me.” Law’s eyes flashed, barely contained frustration needling at the corners of him. “None of this makes any sense, half of these injuries should have killed you. The other half would have needed to be treated.”

The truth sat on the tip of your tongue. You felt selfish and needlessly cruel for your desire to tell Law what was really happening. Your eyes burned, and their glassy sheen didn’t go unnoticed. Law handed you a tissue, expression softening.

“I- um.” You hated how your voice cracked. It had been a long time since you told someone about your Devil Fruit. You always died, and they always forgot. For a long time, you thought it was better that way, carrying this weight on your own. The way Law looked at you, though, it made you want to pour your soul out to him. Every pain, every loss, every death lain at his feet, and for once, you could stand unburdened. “It’d be wrong of me to tell you.”

Law’s eyebrows knit together. “Now you’re being stupid.”

“No, I’m not. You’ll regret asking once you know. Don’t pretend like you don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you don’t deserve my troubles on top of that. It’s better for both of us if you just forget what you saw.”

With that, you stood and made to brush past Law and out of the room. He grabbed you by the shoulder, not allowing you to go any farther. Though his grip was firm, it didn’t hurt. If you really wanted to, you could wrench yourself away from him.

“You’re trembling.”

Your lower lip wobbled, your resolve ebbing away by the second. “It’s complicated.”

“So tell me.” Law’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “Doctor’s orders.”

You let out a small huff. He didn’t deserve this, but there would always be another loop. This current one hadn’t been going so well, and by your estimation, it would take at least three more before you managed to reach your next checkpoint. It wouldn’t hurt to tell Law what he inevitably wouldn’t remember. You steadied yourself with a deep breath and turned to face him, his eyes met yours with a mix of concern and exasperation.

“It’s my Devil Fruit,” You started. Law leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, attention solely on you. Your heart thundered in your chest. “I’ve died so many times.” Without your permission, your breath hitched. Law’s hand encircled your own with a small squeeze, encouraging you to continue. “It, um, brings me back, I guess. I’ll die, and then wake up in the bunkhouse days earlier, and I’ll be the only one who remembers what happened. All those scars you saw were what killed me in a previous loop.”

He was silent while he chewed on his words.

“How many times have you died since you joined my crew,” Law finally asked.

Your hand was still in his and you gave it a squeeze. “That’s not fair. I know what you’re doing and I won’t let you do it.”

Law’s shoulders slumped as he brought his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I believe you. It explains a lot. I noticed you cry in your sleep sometimes.”

“You watch me sleep?” The tips of Law’s ears were tinged pink while you laughed.

“I was worried so I checked on you.” With a sigh, he began to lead you out of the clinic to his office. “Come on, you’re telling me everything you can remember. We’re going to come up with a plan.”

Humoring him, you followed close on his heels. It didn’t matter how long or how hard you planned, there was no accounting for the unpredictability of the universe. This comfort wouldn’t last long. Soon, you would be dead again and the cycle would start anew. That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy sharing a space with your captain, listening to him meticulously craft tactics to keep you, and everyone else, alive.

It wasn’t until four days later you found yourself breathing, though covered head to toe in blood, with the rest of the crew. Everyone was safe and sound, and Law wouldn’t stop looking at you with a smirk on his face. When you found yourself next to him, he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“I told you my plan would work.”

Just like that, for the first time in your life, you were no longer alone.

[gaybatmanenthusiast]

LOST IN TRANSLATION (oneshot)

(SID JENKINS X M! READER)

⋆★ word count : 778

⋆★ warnings : angst and internalised homophobia

⋆★ summary : during their trip to russia, sid and m/n are stuck sharing a room. m/n starts a late night conversation and it takes an unexpected turn when m/n reveals a little more than he intended.

⋆★ extra : me when .. me when I actually write instead of leaving my tumblr dry ‼️ （also we all know I suck at dialogue I apologise)

Sid couldn’t sleep. The old-fashioned heater in their Moscow hotel room was doing its best, but the chill in the air still seeped through the cracks. He shifted under the heavy blankets, trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy mattress.

In the bed next to his, M/N was also awake. Sid could hear the occasional rustle of sheets and the soft sound of M/N’s breathing. It was a strange kind of comfort, knowing someone else was awake too, even if they hadn’t spoken much since turning out the lights.

Sid had never been great at sharing rooms with people. Not because he didn’t like people—he did, really—but because it felt like he could never fully relax. There was always this pressure to act normal, to not let anyone see just how awkward he really was.

“Hey, Sid?” M/N’s voice broke the silence, quiet and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Sid replied, his voice a little rough from the cold air.

“You ever think about… you know, stuff?” M/N’s question was vague, almost like he was testing the waters.

“Stuff?” Sid echoed, turning his head on the pillow to look over at M/N’s silhouette in the dark. “What kind of stuff?”

“Like, I dunno… feelings? About people?” M/N’s voice was softer now, as if he was trying not to disturb the night.

Sid’s stomach tightened. He’d had conversations like this before, but they always made him uneasy. The ones where you had to be honest, where you had to say things out loud that were easier to keep buried. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that, especially not here, in this unfamiliar room, miles away from home.

“Why?” Sid asked, trying to keep his voice casual, even though his heart was starting to beat a little faster.

M/N hesitated, the silence stretching between them. Sid could feel the tension growing, thickening the air around them.

“I… I think I have a bit of a crush on you, Sid,” M/N finally admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I just… I thought you should know.”

Sid’s breath caught in his throat. His mind started racing, panic creeping in as he tried to process what M/N had just said. A crush? On him? He’d never even considered that possibility. Sure, M/N was a good friend, one of the few people Sid actually felt comfortable around, but this? This was different. This was something he didn’t know how to deal with.

“M/N, I…” Sid started, but his voice trailed off. He didn’t know what to say, how to react. All he could feel was this sudden, overwhelming need to push M/N away, to make it stop.

“Look, I know it’s weird,” M/N said quickly, misinterpreting Sid’s silence. “You don’t have to say anything, really. I just wanted to be honest with you. We can forget I said anything, okay?”

But Sid couldn’t forget it. The words were already there, lodged in his mind, and now he couldn’t unhear them. Something twisted inside him, something ugly and uncomfortable. He knew what it was—had felt it before, in fleeting moments when he’d caught himself looking too long at another guy, or when someone had jokingly accused him of being gay. It was fear, but also anger, at himself mostly, for even letting the thought cross his mind.

“What, you think just because we’re sharing a room, I’d be into that?” Sid snapped before he could stop himself. His voice was harsher than he intended, the words coming out all wrong, but the panic inside him was too strong to control.

M/N went silent, and Sid immediately regretted it. He could see M/N’s outline on the bed, motionless, and he knew he’d hurt him. But the fear was still there, gnawing at him, refusing to let him apologize.

“Sid, I didn’t mean…” M/N started, but Sid cut him off.

“No, just… don’t,” Sid said, his voice shaking. “I’m not—this isn’t me, okay? I’m not like that.”

The room fell into an oppressive silence, the kind that made Sid’s skin crawl. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears. He knew he was being unfair, that M/N didn’t deserve this, but he couldn’t help it. He’d spent so long trying to convince himself he was normal, that there was nothing wrong with him, and now this was threatening to unravel everything.

“I’m sorry,” M/N whispered, barely audible. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Sid clenched his fists under the covers, the guilt crashing over him in waves. He wanted to say something, to fix it, but the words never came out.

[serialkilluh1996]

✮𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑✮

Android-König x Detective-Female-reader

Detroit Become Human x Call Of Duty

Themes: drabble, oneshot, kinda platonic, meet cute

Author's note at the end.

୨୧How you and König meet୨୧

☣Content warning☣

➛ Mentions of bombs, terrorists, hijacking, Kidnapping.

➛ König uses "die"(pronounced, dee) instead of "the".

➛ use of "☆☆☆" in place of reader's name.

contact me if I need to add more.

It wasn't easy being a detective in detroit with the whole "androids going crazy" bullshit running a muck in the local headlines. Stacks on stacks of painful paperwork revolving around someone's artificial housepet going haywire.

You could feel a migraine coming on just looking at the file in your hand. "Android terrorists, huh?" You shrug, scanning over the case. Who new robots were capable of making complex bombs?

Cyberlife, probably. It's one of the reasons they're trying so hard to keep this under wraps. They knew from the very jump how dangerous these things could be, knowing lives would be in danger the second an android was sold, but sells were booming, and morality doesn't interfere with money in this economy. The crime scene photos were awfully graphic. It made you sick to the stomach knowing that a robot did this. Then again, it is a machine made in human image, and humans certainly weren't the best people. Millenias of track records proved that.

"☆☆☆!" You wince as you hear the grouchy old voice of your least favorite lieutenant. Hank. Fucking. Anderson. That sleazy old bitch and his shaggy dog beard. You could smell the beer from across the room, too frustrated to even turn around and face him. You were NOT in the mood.

"Hey, Ms. ☆☆☆. It'd be real courteous of you to, I dunno, turn the fuck around when I'm talking to ya." Hank teases, clearly too nonchalant for your byllshit today. "Lieutenant, WHAT do you want–" you turn in your spinning office chair, going silent as you notice the massive monstrous man that he was leaned against. He was tall, nearly 7'0", all decked out in a military combat uniform, large gun held firmly in his left hand that you could only assume was locked and loaded.

He had on some sort of dark hood with red streaks around the eyes, his irises glowing a vicious shade of bold red that illuminated like lasers. "What the fuck..." your voice trailed off, a reluctant fear in your voice as you tried to stand your ground. This guy clearly wasn't hunan, but he wasn't your usual android either.

Androids were designed to look friendly and appealing to the eye. Not to strike fear into the heart of whoever dares to look. Cyberlife's usual color scheme was a gentle teal blue, one that seemed electric and hyper. He was red-themed, not as friendly nor appealing considering that the color red is confirmed to cause anxiety and unease if in large quantities, especially bright red.

And that gun. This fucker had a gun. Cyberlife had lost their damn minds. There's no way these people actually thought that they should give an android, recently discovered to have a high possibility of going rogue and causing fatal damage to the human race, a gun, especially a murder weapon like that. That gun didn't even look legal to own. And then there's Hank, without an inch of a fuck to give, leaning against him like it was nothing.

"Cyberlife wanted me to, eh, bring you this little gift." "Why are they giving it to me???" You fuss. "Well, I'm off duty, kid. The case is yours, so the fuckin' android is too." He stuffs his hands in his large coat pockets, turning to leave.

"Hank?" You call out, a subtle whine in your voice caused by the fear of being left alone with it. "Whatever questions you have, ask the big guy. Or, just...Google it like the old days." He chuckles, knowing he sounded like an ass. You grunt at his lack of concern, trying to suppress a whimper as the metal monster progressed toward you, clenching the gun tightly.

"Greetings. I'm König, Die android sent by Cyberlife." He speaks, the tone in his voice making it obvious his words were scripted. "...you don't look like a usual robot " you stagger out, remaining calm with an unbothered, cocky facade. "I'm a prototype sent from Germany. I'm die only one with my model." He responded, voice clearly created with the idea of a German accent in mind. "Why are you so..." "Big? Red? Scary? Different from die others? It's simple, really. I'm especially designed for missions involving heavy crimes such as Kidnapping, bombing, hijacking, and trafficking. Missions like yours." He raises his right hand, index finger pointed directly at your file. Twelve dead. Nine injured. A shopping center blown to bits at the hands of AI.

"My bright shades of red are meant to exert power, instill fear and imply threat. Like a big X when you do something incorrect in a game." He places his AR on the ground, letting the loud metal cling as it hit your desk. His eyes examine your face, scanning cautiously, he squints as his inner computers calculate your current anxiety.

"You are...confused. Scared. Do not fret, detective. I was sent to protect you. I will terminate any and all threats to this mission and your safety, even if that includes me." He puts a shockingly soft gloved hand to your cheek. He really was an advanced model.

They're programming them with charisma as well? What will they think of next? You roll your eyes. Pushing the hand away, you reach for your car keys, snatching the file up off the table.

"Where are you going, Detective?" "Home. I've got a case to work on." Before you know it, you feel a firm grip around your waist before your lifted in the air by König. "What are you doing?" You hit his back, wincing at how firm it was.

"Taking you home. You're car needs to stay here incase they're stalking you. They'll see it and assume you're still at die precinct." He responds, opening the door with a single hand before ducking to exit. "So, you're just- you're gonna carry me back? All the way?" "Yes, Detective."

"Don't you think that would bring more attention to me than just...driving?" And suddenly, he stops walking. You can literally hear the gears turning in his head. "So, I was lying." The admission shocks you. "What?! What the hell kinda lie is that?"

"I just wanted to carry you back. Perhaps, show off what I can do. But,...dont worry. I assure you, you'll make it home safely. Then I can show you what else i can do." König's tone is flat as he resumes his journey. Lying, charismatic robot. What. A. Day.

You can support me by liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or cashapping me @fundsbrownie. Donations are optional, but much appreciated. Have fun! And remember, take care of yourself.

Okay, so this was something that's been on my mind for a while and I'm thinking about doing more oneshots with this scenario because robot König is just MWAH🫶🏾😚😚😚 and I absolutely must have more of him.

And to everyone that has recently submitted requests, please read my pinned and rules before sending one, because a lot of these asks were.... heavily against my boundaries. Have a great day/night!

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Can I please have an imagine where the reader is the younger twin sister of Meredith Grey and ends up falling in love with Addison Montgomery. The two get together and keep it a secret for awhile (because your twin sister getting with your boyfriends ex wife is kinda weird). But one day the two are caught in an on-call room by everyone. A bit of angst with a lot of fluff please?

In the Shadows and Under the Sheets !!!Light NSFW!!!

Pairing: Addison Montgomery x fem!reader

Warnings: major mommy issues, secret relationship, brief on-call room sex hehe, light angst<3

A/N: first oneshot for McMommy Addison Montgomery hope you enjoy<3

As much as you loved your twin sister, part of you resented her. Your mother had encouraged her to go to med school. Your mother encouraged her to be a surgeon. Your mother encouraged her to be amazing, one of a kind, extraordinary. 

“You’d be more suited as a nurse,” she had said before you applied to every possible pre-med program in the country at seventeen. “Or maybe dermatology.”

Straight A’s since grade school, a perfect 1600 on your SAT, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and you’d only be fit as a nurse? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Nurses are the backbone of the healthcare system. They leave and everything falls apart.

But to have your mother have so little faith in you–it hurt. It hurt more than you could possibly imagine. Maybe it was because you reminded her too much of your father–too soft, not hardcore enough for a surgeon. 

“Sometimes I wish I listened to my mom’s advice,” you mutter into the darkness of Addison’s bedroom. 

Addison, who lays beside you with her head on your chest, sits up. “What?”

“She–” you clear your throat. “She told me, before applying to med school, that I’d be better suited as a nurse–or in dermatology. That I’m too soft and that I wouldn’t make it as a surgeon.”

Addison brought a hand to your forehead, brushing aside stray hair. “You? Too soft?” When you nodded silently, she flashed a bitter-sweet smile. “Sweetheart…you are an amazing surgeon. Being soft isn’t a weakness. You need to have compassion and empathy if you’re going to be a doctor–especially if you do plan on going into pediatrics.”

The sound of your alarm startles you and press a reassuring kiss to Addison’s lips before getting out of bed and starting your morning routine.

__________

Addison sighed heavily as she scribbled down details of her most recent patient in their chart. You stare at her from afar, admiring the way her glasses sit, perched on the bridge of her nose, and the way she seems to drown out everything when she concentrates. How her skirt hugs her curves, how her hair is pinned up and exposing her neck…

“You seem stressed,” you murmur, standing beside Addison under the guise of discussing a case. 

She side-eyes you, trying to hold back a smile before going back to filling out her patient’s chart. “I’m…fine.”

“You sure about that?” you ask. “Because I have a very good way to help with stress and I think you’ll want to take me up on this offer…” You take the pen from her hand and grin, clicking it and placing it in the pocket of your white coat. “On-call room three. Five minutes.”

__________

You giggle as Addison presses kisses to your neck and removes your scrub top. You hold her close, running your hands up and down her body before unbuttoning her blouse and tossing it to the side.

“Still stressed?” you ask.

“I dunno,” she answers lowly. “If I am, do we get to continue?”

You laugh quietly, “We’d continue even if you weren’t stressed.”

Addison presses a firm kiss to your lips and you make your way down her body, placing soft, open-mouth kisses to her navel and nipping at her hips. You slowly drag her skirt down and continue with your kisses down her thighs as you toss it onto the floor.

You smile against her inner thigh and she jolts at your bites before letting out a soft moan. “God, you are gorgeous…”

She takes a deep breath and sighs as you get closer and closer to her aching core, “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

You wrap your arms around her thighs to hold her still, and just as you were about to get started, the worst possible thing happened.

As the on-call room light turns on, you gasp and look up. “Meredith!”

She stands in the doorway with an awkward look on her face before shutting the door quickly. Climbing out of the bed quickly, you pull on your scrub top, “You didn’t lock the door, Addison?”

Before she gets a chance to respond, you rush out the door and find that Meredith is still there–waiting for you. “Mer, I–”

“No,” she says. “Don’t. You gave me crap for sleeping with an attending.”

“I know, and I’m s–”

“I’m not done. You gave me crap about sleeping with Derek and now you’re sleeping with his wife!” 

“Ex-wife,” you mumble. 

“It doesn’t matter!” she snaps. “You’re a hypocrite! How long has this been going on?”

You thought for a moment, counting back the months of seemingly harmless flirting and innocent touches before it turned into…not so innocent touches. “Um…a couple months.”

“I’m your sister! You were the first person I told after I got back together with Derek!” There was a moment’s silence between the pair of you before Meredith spoke up again. “Are you happy?” 

 “What?”

“Does…does she make you happy?” Meredith repeats.

“...Yes,” you respond. “Yeah, she does.”

“Okay…good.”

“Good.”

Answering a page, Meredith leaves you to your own devices and you return to the on-call room. You watch with a grin as Addison buttons up her blouse.

“What?” she says.

“Next time,” you smile, placing a soft kiss on her lips, “lock the damn door.”

[lunarle-old]

In IA, after the loop resets for shuichi, does the last one get like,, deleted, or does a whole new universe open every time and like what happens to shuichi and the others in THAT universe?? I hope this makes sense bc I've been thinking about this for a while and that would lowkey be coooolll O_o Like wtf does Kokichi do after Shuichi offed himself?? Since timeloops are possible here I don't think multiple universes (or is it aus?? I dunno how to call it) would be impossible...but that's just a theory. A game theory!! (matpat reference?!?@?) ^^

It all took place in the simulation, so timelines branching off of that aren't really... possible? QwQ I didnt put too much thought into it, but if I had to imagine it now, I'd say that every time Shuichi looped back, the data from the previous loop was deleted and reset(except for Shuichi's personal data). Hence, the simulation places him back in his room, but his data is still saved from the last loop, so he keeps his afflictions or injuries. Being dead or alive is also not part of a character's data, but that's just how I interpret it ^^"

I did have a bit of a non-canon oneshot off of when Shuichi died in.. loop 11 I think? the one where he got the antidote. It was from Maki's POV and only had about 2k words, and it showed a little bit of everyone's reactions to Shuichi dying

It is a really nice idea though!!! Since playing ISAT i've been wanting to write something else time loopy so ... i dunno. we'll see (((・・;)

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

here, have this little drabble that was totally not going to be for mine and my moots little 500 word challenge at the end of the month but was too long

steddie / T / 768 words

It was Dustin’s idea, actually.

Well...kinda.

He just wanted Steve to finally play D&D with them, but Steve was gonna take it and run with it.

What better way to show a Dungeon Master you have big sappy feelings for him other than through the game itself? What could go wrong?

The Hellfire leader was the second of the older teens to come out to the party after everything happened with Vecna (following a similar confession from Steve himself), and Steve has been floundering ever since. Back and forth between ‘Oh my god, I actually have a chance with him.’ and ‘What am I talking about, he wouldn’t go for me.’

It was Dustin’s insistent nagging, the “C’mon Steve, Eddie would freak out if you said you wanted to play!”, and a suspicious ‘Does he know I’ve got a big stupid crush on his DM?’ squint at the kid that led them all here, to Steve’s basement.

It was just a oneshot with the kids (even Robin is there, heckling them all from the sidelines), and after a grueling battle with a dragon (and math), they were conferring with their quest-giver and NPC Eddie’s been voicing, Princess Edina, about their reward.

“As for your reward Sir Stephan,” Eddie says in a goofy high-pitched voice, looking down at him from where he’s standing behind his screen. “I believe you are owed a kiss for your efforts.” he tilts his head down, “Only if you still desire one.” 

Steve seizes the opportunity.

His stomach is simultaneously wound up in tight knots and completely liquified with nerves, but he stands on wobbly knees, steps around the corner of the table, and reaches up to brush a stay curl out of Eddie’s face, the rest of his hand following the motion to cup his face.

Eddie seems to melt into the touch, swaying forward briefly before freezing completely in his hold when Steve murmurs, “That I do.”, against his lips.

Steve’s eyes fly open when Eddie shoves him backward, hard, and storms off up the stairs.

“Dude.” Mike’s voice pulls Steve’s attention from the stairs. “What the hell was that??”

Steve shakes his head and darts up the stairs to more protests and wild complaints.

“Eddie!”

There’s a chilly breeze that falls over him when he reaches the top, luring him out the still slightly open sliding back door.

Eddie’s sitting on one of the abandoned sunchairs, shoulders stiff, staring off into the woods behind the house.

“Eds?”

“What the fuck was that, Steve?”

He lets out a long breath. “I’m sorry Eddie, I get it if you hate me now, completely understandable, I just…” he trails off. There is no excuse.

“There’s no excuse, Eddie. I’m sorry. I wanted to show you I could be into your nerd things, and have the opportunity to–”

“Opportunity to what?” Eddie’s voice is sharp, his shoulders hiking up against his ears.

“I dunno, woo you? Sweep you off your feet or something.. And now all I've done is assault you in front of a herd of teenagers.” 

“And why would King Steve wanna do that, huh? What could you have possibly gained from ‘woo-ing’ the Freak, huh?”

“I just thought–”

“You thought it’d be funny to make fun of me during the one thing I really have for myself?”

“Make fun of y— No, Eddie, never! ...I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance with you unless I…played D&D with you.” he finishes lamely.

After a beat, Eddie says, “‘S’not funny, man.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie.”

The way he says it must have indicated something to the other man, because his shoulders start to fall as he slowly turns to face Steve.

“I’m being so serious, Eddie.” he repeats, stepping forward with each following statement. “I am so serious about the way I feel about you. So serious about the way my stomach turns to Jello whenever you’re around.”

Steve lowers himself next to Eddie on the lounge chair slowly, as if he’s some skittish creature. “So serious about wanting to kiss you.”

Eddie’s eyes dart all over his face, and Steve lets himself be examined. Eyes falling over every part of Eddie’s face in turn.

When he does come to his conclusion, Eddie’s hands come up to either side of Steve's face.

His hands are chilled from the wind around them, and Steve’s hands grasp onto them on instinct, attempting to warm them with his own.

“Can I kiss you, Steve?”

Steve grins the best he can, given his cheeks are squished between Eddie’s palms, “I thought you’d never ask.”