PrussiaxReader-Treasure Chests (part two)Gilbert ran back into the room, still buckling his belt. He immediately sat back down in front of you and reached out his hand.
"What are you doing?" you asked him, not really wanting to hear the answer.
"Wha- So I'm not allowed to touch your boobs all the time?"
Gilbert sighed and pouted down at the floor, "Are you sure, 'cause-"
"I said no."
He scooted closer to you so his face was inches from yours. "Are you sure?" He whispered, "Because it seemed like you liked it…" He grinned mischievously at you.
You flushed, "N-No! I-I-I… I d-didn't!"
"Are you sure, Liebling…?" Gilbert asked you, staring you down with those beautiful red eyes.
'Oh Jeez…' You thought, 'There's no way I'm getting out of this…' So you did what went logically next. You kissed Gilbert.
At first he made a little surprised noise, jerking back awkwardly but soon he softened up, putting his arms around you and kissing you back with passion. You felt something press insistently against your closed lip
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“Where the hell is _____? She said she was coming back with those sandwiches ein week ago!”
“Relax, mon cheri. Our belle _____ has only been gone for twenty minutes, non?” (my dear...beautiful)
“Sí, Gilbert, relax. Our señorita bonita will be back soon.” (pretty lady)
Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio were all lounging in the backyard at your house. Your great-uncle had decided he wanted to spend his golden years travelling and had given you his house, a seven-bedroom estate in the country with an in-ground pool, a rose garden, and plenty of space. Needless to say, the three of them had pretty much moved in with you.
Toni was lying in a lounge chair reading a sports magazine with a soccer player on the cover, while Francis lay with his eyes closed in a chair beside the pool, soaking up the sun and sighing in contentment. Only Gilbert was irritated, wondering where you were and, subsequently, where the lunch you had promised them was.
He got up in impatience from the table he was sitting at underneath a big shade umbrella. “That’s it. Silly Frau probably got lost in there again und took our lunches with her. The awesome Prussia is going to go find them - her, find her!”
Antonio nodded absently, but Francis had fallen asleep. Gilbert got up then, heading into the house and deciding to start at the kitchen.
As he approached, he heard you moving around, humming happily to yourself. The way your kitchen was set up, he was able to see you long before you saw him, as you were facing the oven and he was coming up the hall. You were looking contentedly at the oven as you pulled it open to remove a big tray, putting it on the stovetop.
You were humming to yourself as you garnished the sandwiches, but then you started to sing happily. “~Carry on, my wayward bun/There’ll be eats when you are done/Lay your weary bread to rest/Don’t be dry no more~!”
Gilbert lost it then, laughing crazily. “Kesesese~! _____, did you just come up with that, or do you always sing theme songs to our lunches?!”
“Gil!” You blushed immediately at being caught, dropping the tin of dried basil you had been holding. It dropped and rolled away from you, and you followed it, ignoring Prussia for the time being.
You made a grab for it, but an unnaturally white hand snatched it up, and its owner grinned down at you. “You didn’t answer mein question, Frau.”
Red-faced, embarrassed, you glared up at him. “Give it back, Gil! You want to eat, don’t you?”
He lounged against the kitchen island, tossing the basil back and forth in his hands. “I waited this long already, didn’t I? I am so awesome I could live purely off of how awesome I am!”
“Ugh!” You growled in frustration, lunging for the basil.
He held it above your head with one hand, yawning, teasing, “Reach, Frau! Grow ein inch or two und you’ll have it! Kesese~!”
“Damn it, Gil!” You shouted in frustration, still reaching and still failing. You put a hand against his chest to get some leverage, and you were an inch closer to your spice for a second.
Only for a second, because Prussia pulled your hand away from his chest, holding it to the side so you couldn’t put it back. “No cheating, that’s not awesome at all!”
“No, what’s not awesome is spying on your friend while she’s making your lunch and then taking her herbs so she can’t even finish doing that!” You blurted in a rush, frowning.
He shook it mockingly above your head, grinning down at you through eyes like cool cherries on a warm summer day. “Too bad, Fraulein, you’re not getting it back so easily!”
“Well if you’d let go of my hand-!” You grunted, jumping to grab at the basil.
Prussia held it easily out of your reach, mocking, “Mein arm is getting tired.”
You dropped yours in a huff then before turning watery [e/c] eyes up to his. “Gil, I just…wanna finish these sandwiches. G-give it back.”
He had thought for a moment that you were playing him, but the hitch in your voice and the petulant way you were gritting your teeth to hold your lip steady convinced him. He dropped his arm then, holding the basil out to you. “H-Hey, _____, what’s going on with you? I was just messing around, I didn’t mean to-“
“To get tricked?” You teased, grinning as you basiled your and Antonio’s sandwiches.
“You bitch!” He laughed, tackling you.
“Ahh, Gil!” You yelped, tripping. “Jesus!” You landed on your ass on the kitchen floor, and Prussia landed on top of you. “Oof-! Gil, get off! Oww, son of a bitch!” You whined, rubbing your ass.
He only laughed. “Your ass is big enough to take a hit like that, nein?”
“Motherfucker! Take that back!” It was your turn to tackle him, and this time, you both landed on his back.
“What will you do if I don’t, Fraulein?” He teased, unconcerned, from beneath you.
You straddled his hips as you pinned him to the floor, but you reached one hand up to rummage in a drawer as you smirked. “This.”
You pulled a small container out of the drawer that looked sort of like a clear egg filled with liquid and wearing a gnome’s hat. Gil looked horrified when he saw that. “Nein, don’t! Is that-?”
“Food coloring.” You nodded. “Looks like blue. And if I drip this on you, Mr. Albino…” You began to giggle. “You’ll look like a smurf for a month!”
“Nein! Nein, that is so not awesome!” Prussia protested. “Bitte, bitte, what do I have to do, _____? Come on, name your price!”
“Apologize.” You smirked.
“Anything but that!” He cried. You reached for the cap, and he put up his hands in defense, blurting, “I’m sorry, Fraulein!”
You grinned, tossing the food coloring back into the drawer and sitting back on your haunches, hands on your hips as you grinned down at your friend. “There. Was that so hard?”
“Nein, I guess not.” He said in surprise. Then, he propped himself up on his elbows, grinning at you where you sat on his hips. “But I know something else that is.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, nice try, Gil, I’m sitting on your lap, remember? I think I’d know if-“ You bounced on his lap to prove your point, then broke off abruptly, your eyes widening and your face turning red. “What the actual hell, Gilbert Beilschmidt?!”
You tried to scramble off of him, but his hands made their way to your hips, keeping you in position. He sat up slowly, leaning forward until he was in kissing distance, those ruby eyes never leaving your [matching gemstone] ones and the grin never leaving his face. “Nein, _____. Stay there, ja? We can-“
He broke off, stunned, as you slapped him. His eyes wide and hurt, he got to his feet, his hand to his cheek. He dropped it though, even more stunned, as he saw the tears in the corners of your eyes and knew that this time, you weren’t faking. “Fraulein, what-?”
“I’m not a whore, Gil.” You said angrily, hurt. “I know what you and Toni and Francis are like with women. But I’m not going to just jump in bed with you because you’re bored, you bastard! I thought-! We’re supposed to be friends, you know? I would’ve thought you’d care enough about my feelings to not want to just-!”
“_____.” He said softly, taking your hands. You looked down at the white hands wrapped around your [s/c] ones, but when you looked up into the rubies that glistened down at you, you were surprised to see them serious for once. “I don’t want to just anything. I want…you. You’ve heard Toni und Francis teasing me about not getting any lately, und why do you think that is?”
You shrugged, bewildered, and he laughed gently. “It’s your fault, liebe. Since we started hanging out with you, I…haven’t wanted to look at other women. At first I thought I was just off mein game, but that would’ve been ridiculous, because I’m too awesome for that. So I knew it was a choice, und once I figured that out, I knew why I was choosing to fail with every woman I came across. It’s…because they aren’t you.”
“What is wrong with you?” You whispered, baffled.
“What?” He asked, stunned. “You’re…turning me down?!”
“No, you idiot, but seriously?! Who confesses his feelings like that?! ‘Oh, hey, I’m Prussia, lemme just steal your basil, let you straddle me, get a boner, and then tell you it’s because I like you’! Are you serious?!”
He laughed. “Well, ja. I couldn’t do it like some normal loser, could I? That wouldn’t be awesome at all!” He scratched at his jaw. “Plus, I didn’t really want to tell you today. I just wanted my sandwich. But you looked so cute singing to our sandwiches~, I couldn’t resist!”
You sighed then, a hand on your hip, but you quirked a smile up at him. “So, hey. Are you gonna kiss me or what?”
He grinned. “Hell ja, Fraulein, I thought you’d never ask!”
If you had expected a soft, tender kiss, you would have been sorely disappointed, but luckily, you had actually expected the forceful, passionate way he pressed his mouth to yours. Expected, yes. Been prepared for? No.
The butterflies in your stomach came to life so abruptly you actually thought you were sick for a second before you realized you were just excited for the kiss. You grabbed him back, and in no time at all, the two of you found yourselves back on the floor, hands tangled in hair, bodies pressed together, and tongues twining.
You heard the door open just then, and you hissed, “Son of a cunt!” while Prussia growled, “Scheisse, I’m not missing out on this!”
Immediately, he scooped you up, sprinted out of the kitchen, and ran up the stairs with you. “Jesus!” You hissed, clutching him tightly to avoid falling.
“’Jesus’ is ein little formal. Just ‘Gilbert’ is fine.” He grinned.
“Oh my god.” You laughed quietly. “You arrogant, sexy bastard.”
Pulling open the first bedroom door he came to, he grinned as he entered and closed it behind him, heading purposefully toward the bed. “Speaking of bastards…let’s go make one, ja? Or I guess we can just practice.”
“Gil, honey…are you sure about this? Because I’m pretty sure it’s just your pickup lines that have been making you strike out.”
He dropped you onto the bed then, jumping in after you, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling your head back to expose your throat to his mouth. He nibbled, kissed, and licked you into a panting mess before he brought his lips to your ear to murmur, “I’m sure, Mausi. I’m sure because I haven’t even tried for ein couple of months now.” (Mausi is a pet name like honey or baby; it means mouse.)
After that, your mouth stopped him from ruining those words by refusing to let any more out of his.
Downstairs, meanwhile, Antonio and Francis had found their lunches. Francis sighed happily. “Oh, ma belle _____ has outdone herself! French bread, warm, crusty on the outside and soft on the in, with the most delicately sliced meats I have ever seen and such a lovely garnish!”
“Sí, she really has!” Antonio grinned. “Tomato and mozzarella with balsamic vinaigrette, ahh!”
“I hope she isn’t really lost.” Francis fretted, looking at your [favorite sandwich]. “It was only a couple of weeks ago when she got lost in here for two days.”
“She’s probably just hiding from Gilbert somewhere.” Spain shrugged. “He must not have found her in here or that wurst and cheese on potato bread loaf would be gone.”
“Well, there is no sense in allowing this finely prepared meal to go to waste, non? She would not want that.”
“No, you’re right. We better eat.”
They ate, and afterwards, Spain yawned. “Well, I think it’s time for a little siesta. All this sun has me sleepy. I’ll catch you later on, okay?”
He waved, and he headed upstairs as France walked back out to the pool. Francis had just waded in and was preparing to dive under when he heard an unearthly screech, a thud, some Germanic shouting, and high-pitched Spanish prayers. Wide-eyed, he stared at the house, and he was finally able to make out some female English.
“Toni, you bastard! There are seven bedrooms in this house; why the hell did you have to pick this one?! Occupado!”
After a while, Antonio walked out to join France at the side of the pool. France’s jaw dropped as he looked at Spain’s black eye, and Spain just looked at him in amusement.
“Found them. Damn, she packs a punch, eh? They’re, ah…they’re gonna be busy for a while.”
Sebastian x Demon Reader: Carnal
It was the 31st of October, more aptly known as Halloween, and the world was aglow with a thousand flickering candles. Well, in truth it wasn’t the world that glowed, but rather the ballroom that one still figure found herself standing within the midst of a swelling crowd. This figure while far from imposing on the outside, was truly a force to be reckoned with behind the habitual daily mask that she always wore. She was natural of stature, with an elegant aura and eyes that sparked brighter than winter lightning. But it was the smile she always kept firmly in place that marked her apart from the other women who currently twirled around her in wanton abandon. The expression while observed as overly warm, was in truth deficient. The emotion was balanced but lacked the sincerity it would take to be considered happy. It was a copied expression; nothing more and for the close observer the realization would have made their blood turn to ice. This woman, this creature wasn’t human. Her withdrawn manner was just a taste of the coldness that lay beneath her prosaic appearance.
She was a being of shadow, though she now stood in one of the brighter parts of the ballroom. She was a demon and currently she was freed from the toil of serving a human master- a fact that she truly relished. For she wasn’t a fiend that particularly liked making contracts, and surely wasn’t one who took captivity lightly. She was one to run wild and untamed; to stand at the edge of a cliff and jump from it while others quickly moved back to safety. She was a risk taker and a crafty one at that. And as she watched the countless humans spin by her in their lively dance, the demoness felt the prickling of adventure tingle down her spine.
They were all so beautiful: these fragile creatures with their hearts on their sleeves. They were predictable in almost every way, but they could also surprise you without even trying. It was what made them so delicious when they were so mundane. The probability of uncovering something truly delightful beneath the façade. To find truth in a world of deception. It was pure intoxication and the she-demon let her (e/c) eyes take in the faces of each of the people who moved past her. She admired the mortal’s blemishes as well as their perfection, before her gaze came to rest upon a dancing couple several yards away.
At first glance they seemed like a normal pair; the demoness instantly knew different. The young lady that giggled carelessly, blonde and fair of complexion, was cheery and sweet- something that the demon always found pleasure in when it came to humans . . . But it was the boy who danced with her that captured the creature’s attention and gave her pause . . . physically he was delicate, exquisite- but it was the hidden knowledge behind the lad’s single startling blue eye that told the story the demon sought. It was a frozen orb, ancient for one so young, and shone with the devastation of several lifetimes. But despite what should have been- the shadowy being saw not a broken, despairing child, but a calculated, glacial young man with the contented fire of conviction burning bright. Though the boy had obviously survived some terrible tragedy, there was not a sane person alive who would have coddled or pitied him. From the ashes of whatever had happened to him, the boy had risen to take back what had been stolen. The sight was nothing but awe-inspiring to the demon as she watched him calmly deal with his squealing lady friend and dance in a stiff shuffle.
“My, what a terrible dancer my poor Master makes. But I suppose not everyone is born with the grace that is needed to successfully waltz.” The demon slowly turned her head, regarding the figure that had silently come to stand beside her. Curiously, the woman lifted a brow of question as she let her mind catch up with what he had said. It took a special sort of person to sneak up on her, and an even madder one to approach her without her invitation. But after a mere second of contemplation, she understood and a look of approval crossed her beautiful face.
“You do brilliant work, sir,” she complimented as she meaningfully returned her gaze back to the boy and his dance partner. “I commend you on your talents. He is beautiful.”
“My Lady gives far too much credit,” the figure beside her returned with humor, as he too turned to watch the dancers. “My Master came this way. In no way did I shape him.”
The demoness smile grew, as the unspoken threat was made clear behind his cordial words. And finally she looked at him again, taking in the details of his appearance.
He was tall and lithe, with raven hair and eyes redder than a New Year’s Wine. He wore tasteful clothes that obviously belonged to a high-end servant, but the woman knew better than to believe such a harmful ensemble. He was like her: an enigma of darkness, though he was sadly collared and chained. The she-demon had never expected to cross the path of one such as him in a place like this, and her surprise flickered briefly through her (e/c) eyes.
“Your Master is unique,” she said sincerely before adding, “Though you needn’t worry. I have no intention of trying to steal him from you.”
The man laughed, his wine eyes lighting with absolute amusement. “I am glad to hear it, my lady. For I do believe my Master is a bit young for the wares that you would sell.”
It was now the female’s turn to laugh, as her eyes crinkled merrily around the corners. It would seem that the fiend who now watched her reaction was more observant than he had first appeared. He had figured out what kind of demon she was from a mere moment of being in her company.
“You would be correct, sir,” she said once her laughter had subsided. “He is quite young for the services I tend to extend. . . Besides, he is well taken care of in his needs.”
The demon gave her a surprisingly warm smile as he inclined his head to her. “You are too kind.”
“Only to those who deserve it.” She dipped her head to match him, before asking with interest, “Might I ask what you specialize in, sir? I must admit you have fully intrigued me.”
“I concentrate on what my lord wishes, and make his demands a reality,” came the cheeky reply.
“As do all of our kind, handsome,” she teased. “But what of your gifts? What does your Master wish for?”
“Retribution and an end to his bad memories.”
The she-demon was silent for a moment, knowing full well what he meant. There were 7 types of demons in the world, and it would seem that her new acquaintance was one of the more powerful casts.
Wrath. He gave his contracts revenge and power for their slights. He was one who would never be freed from his mortal-bound chains for his services would forever be needed.
Wrath, Pride, Gluttony, Sloth, Envy, Greed, and then me, she thought looking at the other demon with appreciative eyes.
“If it is not rude to ask, my dear, what are you doing in such an overcrowded dancing hall on the Devil’s Holiday,” he asked breaking her momentarily revelry.
“. . . Merely trying to scratch an itch.”
“You have no contract?”
“I was never one to be leashed.”
He chuckled softly at. “But surely you enjoy the results of such an agreement, my lady?”
Her eyes sparkled in the candle light as she looked at him playfully. “But why make such a deal when I get the benefits for free?”
To prove her point, the she-demon let her index finger gently raise and slide across his cheek, before she withdrew and looked at him pointedly. Though outwardly the wrathful one remained the picture of relaxed ease, she knew better for the intrigue in his eyes was impossible to miss. It was true that demons weren’t romantic creatures, but even the highest of demons, if faced with the right opposition, were known to take a mate. Not that the demoness openly considered such things . . .
“You make a resplendent point, my dear,” he replied, before he acted quickly and caught her off guard. With well-practiced hands the male pulled his prey to him (a hand at her waist and one taking her hand) before he twirled them out into the midst of flying dancers. For a breath they were close enough for their lips to meet, but just as the female was about to lean forward, he dipped her down and she laughed at his blunt teasing.
“If you wished to dance with me you could have merely said so,” she badgered him as he brought her back up to face him. She noticed his wine colored eyes matched hers in playfulness as he leaned in again and let his nose lightly brush against hers.
“But we’ve no chaperone, my lady. And I was unable to inquire about you to one who knows you. I would hate for your reputation to be slandered by a misunderstanding.”
“Goodness, what a gentleman,” she breathed rubbing her nose against his before she spun herself out and around so that she was facing outward and the male was holding her to him. “But I fear I find myself in doubt, sir. I don’t even know my chivalrous knights’ name.”
He chuckled again, a deep growling purr in the back of his throat, before he whispered in her ear. “My Master christened me Sebastian Michaelis, my lady. . . And what name is it that you have taken?”
“(F/n), (Full name),” she offered as her hips and feet moved with a mind of their own.
“(F/n) . . .” Sebastian tested her name on his tongue before he made another pleased noise. “What an unusual moniker for a Lust demon who refuses to take contracts.”
“And Sebastian is an odd name for a Wrathful one such as you, my dear. But I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Indeed they cannot,” the male said as he once more spun her around to face him, making her aware of the gloves that covered his hands that held her firmly. Gloved hands; most likely meaning his contract seal was hidden underneath. . . it made her eager to break his chain. . . or at least try.
“I may not take on full contracts,” she divulged while reaching up to lace one of her hands behind his neck. “But for you I might be willing to make an exception.”
For a long moment, the two demons stared at one another, one waiting and the other considering, before the latter sighed imperceptibly and shook his elegant head in refusal.
“You tempt me, my dear. . . But my duty must remain with my young Master until the end.”
(F/n) had anticipated such an answer, though she still felt the niggling at the back of her mind as the smallest of disappointment set in.
“Your boy is lucky to have such a faithful butler,” the demoness replied before leaning up and placing a soft kiss to Sebastian’s cheek. “Though it saddens me that a devastatingly beautiful one such as yourself is chained up.”
Sebastian was silent as she pulled away from him, not offering an apology or a way of explanation- for both already knew that he was comfortable in his state of servitude. He lived for his contracts, and nothing was going to change that. And despite her regret at his choice, (F/n) couldn’t bring herself to fault him for it.
As the lovely female now stood apart from him, Sebastian lowered into a formal bow before giving her a respectful expression. “Thank you for the dance, Madame. It has been most educational.”
(F/n) curtsied with a small sigh. “Goodbye, handsome, until the day you finally free yourself.”
“Until we meet again, my lady,” he promised, as the demoness turned on her heel and walked away from him.
(F/n) she had originally come to the Ball to find someone to prey off of, but the woman now found that her appetite was completely gone. So she left the gaily lit ballroom and the carefree revelries behind; entering into the chilled Halloween night with a satisfied smile on her full lips.
Though they had just met, a spark had most certainly been kindled between herself and the Wrath-demon. And (F/n) knew that no matter how long she had to wait, that she would never truly forget Sebastian Michaelis. . . even if he was a tamed pet on a chain.
“What are you doing. I thought this is a no homo thing.”
“N-Nothing! And it is not homo at all!”
But it is, Kuroo, it is.
// Kuroo Tetsurou x Male!Reader//
Picture © Haruichi Furudate
Story/ Plot © KatelinLikesFeenie
You © Yourself
Kuroo "No Homo" Tetsurou © Haikyuu!!
Haikyuu!! © Haruichi Furudate
“Hello Cheerio!” you heard your friend, Arthur Kirkland, state happily once you opened your front door to greet him. You smiled as you grabbed your spring jacket from the nearby coat closet.
“Arthur, every time you say Cheerio in that context, I can’t tell if you’re using it as a nickname or trying to tell me goodbye.”
Chuckling, the blonde Briton replied, “It’s a nickname,” as he helped you put your jacket on.
“Okay,” you stated before you turned around to face him and ask, “but why ‘Cheerio’?”
“Because, love…” Arthur said as he bent down slightly so that your eyes were level with his, “…you’re good for my heart.” A blush cascaded over your cheeks as you turned your face away from him in embarrassment.
You then muttered, “That’s so cheesy.”
“Really? I always thought they tasted more like oats,” Arthur said with a smirk, clearly picking on you even more. You chuckled as you gave him a playful shove. It didn't take long for him to join in on your merriment. Laughing, you both left your home with serene smiles and blush-covered cheeks.