ヽ｀ Omg.. last time I updated I was only at 50+ :: now we’re at 200+ already !! this is so unbelievable to me :: I have so many friends, mutuals, supporters, and just super friendly people who care for me ♡ you all make me so proud and excited to be on here! tysm for everything :: keep sending req since they’re almost always open !
hii theree! for the event, how about scaramouche with 13? it could be fluff or hurt/comfort, whatever you feel like doing if that's okay:>
13 - “I can’t deal with you right now.”
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characters; Scaramouche, Tartaglia/Childe, (cheerful) gn reader
cw/tw; it’s kind of vague but Scara is extremely overworked and he grabs your wrist to stop you from touching him but he thinks you’re an enemy? He’s kind of delusional when he does it (he feels really, really bad about it), Tartaglia being a lil shit, swearing, hurt/comfort, Scara is trying his best, let me know if I missed anything.
word count; 1.8k
notes; Hi !! My original idea was to do fluff but two characters have now had the fluffy 13, so I thought ’d try to give you the best of both with the angstier 13, but made it fluffy hurt/comfort. I hope you enjoy it !! So sorry it’s taken so long !!
Please reblog if you like this!!
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“Scara!”
It was a daily routine. You would barge into his office, plop yourself down on his desk or his lap and ‘bother’ him. On and on, you could talk for hours without stopping. And most of the time that was okay, the harbinger didn’t actually mind you, even if he did mumble how ‘irritating’ you were under his breath while his lips were pressed against your forehead.
However, today was not one of those days.
Really, you should’ve known that when his head didn’t even turn in your direction, or when his fists tightened around the documents he was reading.
“Yoohoo! Anyone home?” You sang out, with not a care in the world.
“Get lost.”
“Aw, that’s not a very nice way to treat your partner! Where’s my hugs and kisses?” A stupid decision, really; to ignore an all powerful harbinger’s warning was a death sentence for some. Forgetting that was careless.
“I said get lost.” His voice was clearer, much louder, yet he still hadn’t raised his head to look at you.
“You don’t really mean that!” You laughed gleefully, about to snatch away the papers in his hand, when suddenly his hand flew out and grabbed your wrist out of instinct.
“What did I just say?!”
“Ow! S-Scara-“
His grip tightened on your wrist, your bones feeling like glass under his hold. One wrong move and they could shatter. He glowered at you as he raised from his seat. His stature was miniature, but the way he was towering over you now as you lowered to your knees from the searing pain his small hand was inflicting, he seemed no less intimidating than the fatui guards patrolling around the area on your way in. Perhaps even more so.
The pain didn’t last long, and neither did the overpowering dominance he had over you. Your lover was not cruel (to you). When he finally realised what he was doing, he dropped his trembling hand. Both of you were shocked from what had just happened, and it served as a painful reminder as to just how powerful he really was. Clearly he saw you as an enemy, instead of his lover at that moment.
You drew your hand to your chest immediately, your spare hand cradling the reddened flesh on your wrist.
“Just go.”
“But-“
“I can’t deal with you right now.”
Your wrist hurt, but the pain beginning to tear through your chest was unbearable. Wordlessly, you stood, your joyful mood turning into dust as you got to your feet. With that, you left.
The quiet man sighed, lifting his gaze from the endless pile of papers in his hands. The room was dark, the only light coming from the slither of moonlight peeking through the closed window. Ah. He’d been here the whole day. It was… Eerily quiet without you. His eyebrow furrowed at the memory of your panic stricken face, how your hand turned stiff when he gripped your wrist.
He ran a hand down his face, cursing himself internally. It wasn’t your fault he was stressed. You were anything but stressful, actually. The way he treated you when you were just trying to cheer him up… It just wasn’t fair.
He groaned quietly, muffled by the hand still on his face. “You…” You really did make him go soft after all, didn’t you? Never in a million years did he think he would be apologising to someone, let alone feeling bad about hurting someone else’s feelings. His gaze peaked out from the gaps in his fingers, checking the time from the clock on his desk. It wasn’t too late to fix this. But… How? He wasn’t very good with the whole… ‘Feelings’ thing.
Down the corridor, he could faintly hear the sound of hearty laughter, and an annoyingly loud, familiar voice boasting about a mission they had just completed successfully. Next were the sounds of thundering footsteps, directly approaching his office. Only one person was stupid enough to enter his room without knocking.
“Good evening, comrade! Did you finish the papers I left you this morning?”
The shorter male let out a low, heavy exhale. “No.”
“Aw, that’s not very nice!” ‘Now where’s my hugs and kisses?’ Even now, he could hear your words. Unfortunately they were now in Childe’s voice. Scaramouche shuddered with disgust at the thought of that.
“I’m not doing your work for you.”
“Not even if I offer my help in return?” His colleagues' voice had a playful lilt, a teasing smirk forming on his lips.
“What could I possibly need help with from you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe… Helping your partner feel better?”
The harbinger paused in his action of putting his papers to the side of the desk, his head raising stiffly to face the taller man’s smug face. His fists clenched at his sides tightly, his knuckles going white before he let his hands release.
“What do you want?”
“Sparring for a month, you do my half papers and… Hm…” The ginger's fingers snapped, his eyes lighting up. “New weapons!”
This was for you. He was doing it for you. Even admitting he needed help was embarrassing enough.
“Deal.” He mumbled through gritted teeth.
I’m doing this for you.
-
He had expected you to ignore him when he came home, but he didn’t expect the house to be shrouded in darkness, nor the eerie silence that followed it. The only reason Scaramouche knew you were home was due to your discarded boots near the door. Trailing up the stairs, he could also see your haphazardly discarded clothes. Good - you weren’t downstairs. He needed all the time he could get if he was going to make this work.
Your nose twitched still the aroma emanating around the room, tired, heavy eyes fluttering open. When you got home, all you did was undress, put on a comfy outfit and go to bed; you had a feeling you’d be sleeping alone that night, so there was no need to make an effort or expect to be awoken. A muffled curse resounded from downstairs, and in your hazy, half-asleep mind, you could just about tell who that voice belonged to. You let out a tired groan as you sat up slowly, silently making your way out of your room and down the stairs. “Scara?” You asked through a yawn, rubbing one of your eyes.
“Shit.” You heard a crash of pans, making you flinch.
“Are you o-“
“-M’fine! Just… Stay there a minute!”
“Oh… Okay…” Another yawn made its way out of your mouth, your voice quiet both because you were tired and in fear of making him mad at you again. You didn’t realise he was that bothered by your cheerfulness. While you were deep in thought about the situation, you hadn’t even realised he was standing right in front of you. You certainly didn’t notice the stains decorating his usual attire either, or the streak of flour smeared across one of his cheeks.
“You’re home?” You asked quietly, tilting your head in confusion.
He nodded slowly, his arms folding across his chest, most likely to hide the evidence of what he had been doing. “Yeah.”
“But I thought…”
“Go into the kitchen. There’s something for you there.” Oh? Curious, you stepped past the worn out man, the slump of his shoulders being missed by you entirely.
In the middle of your kitchen table was a large cake. It wasn’t the best you had seen - the icing covering the whole thing had patches showing the body underneath and you were sure the whole thing was leaning to one side. But that didn’t matter, not when you saw what was written in the middle.
With a stark contrast to the messy presentation, in the neatest handwriting, you saw the word ‘Sorry.’ Next to the dessert was some sort of pink flower, shimmering with violet streaks coating the petals. Sakura blooms.
“Tartaglia said that this would help.” The balladeer mumbled from behind you, but it was oddly quiet. When you turned to face him, you saw that he was looking away from you, the tips of his ears a deep scarlet. “So… Do you like this kind of stuff or was this just that ginger trying to make me look stupid?” You could tell he was trying his best to sound annoyed, but there was no bite in his voice. When you didn’t reply, he was forced to look back at you. His breath caught in his throat when he saw glistening tears roll down your reddened cheeks.
“Wait, hey- stop crying…” Did I do something wrong? The question went unspoken.
“Sorry…” You sniffled, wiping your tears away quickly. “Do you… Do you mean it?”
“Yeah.” His foot shifted, stepping in front of you to cup one of your cheeks, his thumb rubbing the damp skin tenderly. “I’m sorry. I should’ve never done that…” Vibrant eyes shifted down to your wrist and looked away in shame. It’s not like it was bruised or even swollen, but it should’ve never happened in the first place. i“I’ll never forgive myself…” Even if at the time he didn’t see you, but instead one of his enemies, it was still inexcusable.
“I forgive you, though.”
“You… You do?”
You nod slowly. It was wrong, and you both knew that, but he gave up his pride for you by apologising. You knew he meant it when he said sorry, as it was a word not even in his vocabulary at the best of times.
“I will never do it again.”
“Good. Or I won’t forgive you next time.”
A rare smile spread across his lips. There wouldn’t be a next time, he would make sure of that. “You better not.” He didn’t deserve you, or the kindness you continuously showed to him, but he was ever so thankful for it.
“Did you really make that cake yourself?”
His lips pursed, the hues of crimson spreading across his cheeks. “… Yeah. Sorry if it’s not good…”
His warning came too late, you already helping yourself to a slice and taking s bite before he could finish. He stood rigidly, watching you in anticipation.
“It’s delicious!”
He released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, his body going lax. It didn’t last long however, as you pressed your lips against his cheek. “Thank you…”
You heard a grumble, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you in closer.
“Yeah… Whatever.” In ‘Balladeer’, you were sure that meant;
Firstly a massive thank you to each and every one of my 200 followers and those that sent in song requests to celebrate this milestone. I never expected to get one follower let alone over 200!
Please find below a collection of fluffy/flirty/smutty stories inspired by country songs requested by several of my wonderful followers to celebrate my 200 follower milestone.
A/N: 1) Thank you to my wonderful beta @marytudorbrandon who has checked all of these stories for me. I know waffle on, so thank you for organising so many of stories 😘.
2) All artwork made by me! And images found on the internet or sent to me by Caroline, she always finds goodies for me to use!
Finally I’m still relatively new to posting up stories so if you think I’ve missed anything out on the warnings list please DM me and let me know.
PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS THANK YOU
Charles Brandon x O.F.C. Lady Temperance - SMUT: The Duke Of Suffolk and his long time friend finally give into their feelings.
Henry Cavill x Unnamed O.F.C - FLUFF: On a night out at a premiere Henry and his friends play a game of Dibs.
August Walker x Unnamed O.F.C - SMUT: It’s home date night for August and his girl and things get steamy.
Captain Travis Syverson x Unnamed O.F.C - FLUFF: A soldier meets a tipsy young woman on a night out. An event that would change their lives forever.
Walter Marshall x O.F.C Isobel Clarke- Adult Themes: Walter comes home to find his heartbroken girlfriend.
August Walker x Unnamed O.F.C- SMUT: August meets a woman at a bar and they engage in some sinful behaviour.
Henry Cavill x Unnamed Wife - FLUFF: Henry and his wife go for a date night at the Shard in London to celebrate their Ten Year wedding anniversary.
Captain Travis Syverson x Unnamed Wife - SMUT: Sy and his wife are travelling home from a long weekend and decide to delay their homecoming with a rendezvous in the backseat of their car.
For the event, can I request hair down!Fushiguro Megumi? I saw a TikTok a while ago, where Megumi had his hair down like his father and Gojo obviously didn't like it. Sadly I can't find it anymore...
SNIPPET hair down!fushiguro megumi
notes // hi hi :) of course, thank you for the request! i really like this little headcanon and writing this had been fun :D i would love to see the tiktok, so if you find it, even some time later, feel free to send the link!
hair down!fushiguro megumi; being absolutely done with gojo‘s bullshit, he decides to dig a bit and finds more about his father out. nanami-sensei tells him how his father almost killed gojo, only to then get killed by him.
hair down!fushiguro megumi; decides to dig even further and goes to the zenin clan elders, who have a heart attack, because why would gojo‘s ward visit them?! he just asks them questions about the sorcerer killer and how he was, and oddly enough, they answer all his questions. they just hope he refuses his current family name and becomes a zen‘in
hair down!fushiguro megumi; asking maki if she can teach him with the same weapon his father used. the training is hard, harder than usual since he wants to learn as fast as possible.
hair down!fushiguro megumi; getting ready for his mission, carrying a sword with him, his hair down and his usual uniform still in the laundry. a smirk graces his lips and he has the sudden urge to cackle like a disney villain.
hair down!fushiguro megumi; walking towards the car with a slow pace, his phone in one hand, the sheathed sword in his other. his pants are white and baggy, while his shirt is black and streching over his muscles. he‘s surprised how comfortable this whole outfit is and decides to wear it more often, no matter gojo‘s reaction.
hair down!fushiguro megumi; walking past gojo without care, grunting a greeting and getting in the car, all while typing busily on his phone he’s just playing candy crush gojo freezes when he sees him, choking on his own spit and- why is megumi‘s hair down like that?!
hair down!fushiguro megumi; grumbling something about not enough time to style his hair and getting his uniform from the laundry, while gojo‘s soul leaves his body. here he was, working hard to raise megumi and the ghost of his father still corrupts him?!
hair down!fushiguro megumi; stopping putting his hair up, ignoring the shocked looks he gets from elder sorcerers. everytime he walks path gojo, he hides his smirk when said man looks like he bit into a lemon.
At which point did this happen and how did I miss it?
I apparently have two hundred and six subscribers! Cool. I'm not going to do anything about it, since Uni starts next week and I also have no idea what to do, but hey. Still cool.
Your fanfics are great and you are still awesome 😘
Yes, I'm hornie. Yes, I'm here to sin.
Can you write: “Seeing you between my legs is so hot.” and “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.” with Cal Kestis? Pretty please?
^ My love for you <3
But here it is! I'll admit, I might have gotten a little carried away with the setting, but the dirty stuff with Cal? Hoooweee I was blushing when I wrote that part.
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader
Word Count: ~1k
Warnings: fluff, dirty talk, sexual references
request for: “Seeing you between my legs is so hot.” and “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.”
“What do you think?” You push the hanging curtain aside and step into the glaring sunlight. All around the clothing stall, tourists of every species and size bustle about, buying and haggling for various products with the local merchants, angular faced creatures with dark blue skin.
Merrin contemplates you seriously, hands folded in a triangle over her nose and face as she studies your figure. You had picked out her swimming suit a while ago, and the adorable two piece is green, matching her Force magic and highlighting her eyes vividly. A floppy straw hat shields her pale skin from the sun, but also looks amazingly fashionable. The moment of silence stretches, and you grow more uncomfortable with every passing second. Finally she speaks, “Raise your arms.”
You sigh, but do so. The bikini is hardly what you’re used to, Maker knows that you’ve only ever been to a beach one other time in your life. But you can’t help but love the way it compliments your figure; the merchant had been correct that the cut would be very flattering to your body type. “Mer--”
“You look sexy.” Merrin claps her hands triumphantly, “We’ll take it!” She shoves a handful of credits into the merchant’s hands from the purse Cere had given you for shopping, and grabs your hand. You manage to choke out a small ‘thank you’ to the merchant before the overexcited Nightsister drags you out of the stall.
The unnamed beach planet is gorgeous, all bright white sand and sparkling teal water. In all of your time travelling with the Mantis crew, you had never seen one quite like this one. And you have to admit, Cal’s missions covered a large range of diversity in planet representation. Kashyyyk’s dense forests had enough trees for lifetimes, Zeffo represented the pretty meadows, Bogano the peaceful plains, and Dathomir was a category unto itself. The only common thread between all of the worlds, is that most of the inhabitants had tried to kill you in some way or the other.
Cal is nowhere in sight when you get back to the Mantis to meet up with the rest of the crew. Greez and Cere are already lounging on the beach with shades and beverages in hand, gossiping like old wives.
Cere lowers her shades to give you and Merrin a once over, and you can physically feel her motherly stare as she considers your choice of attire. Finally, she raises her shades and relaxes back onto her chair, “Have fun girls. Put sunscreen on and make sure to stay hydrated.”
Merrin shoots you a conspiratorial grin, and you both race for the waves. The sand is burning hot underneath your feet, but the cool water is perfect for the warm temperatures.
You splash in the water with Merrin for a few minutes before BD hops up and drags her away to go look at some new discovery, and you’re left to explore the water on your own.
A ridge along the shore catches your attention, and you wade over past it to find a beautiful sheltered cove. The water is barely knee height here, and you splash in the shallows, chasing the fish that dart between your legs like tiny flickering shadows.
Something grabs your legs underwater, and you scream when you’re suddenly swept to the side. But although you brace for it, you don’t hit the water. Strong arms wrap around your body and hoist you up so that your feet contact the squishy underwater sand.
Cal’s voice is rough in your ear, scraping deep in his chest. “You look good like this.”
“Cal, you scared me!” You smack his arm gently to prompt him to release you, but his grip only tightens. “Let me go, we should get back to the others.”
“I told them that we were going to find wood for a beach fire.” He rests his chin on top of your head. “We have time for a little fun.”
You gasp, even as you feel a thrill at the dirty promise. “Cal!”
“What?” He laughs, spinning you in his arms so that you’re looking up at him. He’s wearing a new swimming suit too, he must have gone to pick one up while you and Merrin were shopping. It’s pink, with bright yellow fruits stamped along the fabric, and it’s so ugly that it looks good on him. There’s a wicked streak in his expression, “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.”
“Cal.” There’s a clearer warning in your voice now. As much as you would love to, you are all too aware of the distinct lack of cover in the area and the fact that you’d never live it down if one of the crew caught you. “We can’t.”
“Or you could take a turn on your knees for me. As much as I love you cumming on my tongue, seeing you between my legs is so hot.” He accompanies that last part with a sharp nip to your neck that is definitely going to leave a mark, and it’s a good thing he’s still holding you because your legs just about give out beneath your weight.
“Cal…” Your resolve is weakening, and you’re all too aware of how obviously you’re projecting that through your voice and your teeth catching your bottom lip and your warming cheeks and--
“I’ll decide for us, then.” And then the world flips upside down, and you suddenly get a very nice view of your Jedi boyfriend’s ass as he hefts you over his shoulder. You shriek in surprise, but Cal’s grip is too firm to pry out of and it’s not like you were going to put up much of a fight.
Cal puts you down inside a rocky overhang, and you barely have time to breathe before he’s maneuvered you up against the wall, caging your body against the rock with his own. He pecks you on the nose once, “Ladies first, am I right?”
You blink at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for water.
“Tooka got your tongue?” He grins, already sinking down onto his knees and hoisting one of yours over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll find your voice long before I’m done with you.”
