#home on the other hand would find it fucking hilarious

[sweetest-honeybee]

if i told GS! Home a joke would he laugh? "How much does a chimney cost? It's free. It's on the house."

please, i have told this joke to many people, but none have laughed.. I am so desperate that i'm going to tell the joke to Home.

Oh I feel that, it’s like my poultry-geist joke 😂

I think Wally would just do his usual “Ha ha ha”, since that’s his usual cue when he realizes it’s a joke! Perhaps a bit softer, a bit slower, but your joke is wonderful 😌

#though ah #perhaps joking about houses to him specifically might not be the BEST move but he knows you’re trying #home on the other hand would find it fucking hilarious #a real knee slapper that one!

[lxvvie]

A relationship with Ghost would consist of the following (and here's the sequel!):

Being mutually attracted to each other but it's 98012334823 years before you make things official.

Price, Gaz, and Soap essentially going "FINALLY!" and welcoming you to the group with open arms because it's about damn time Ghost found some happiness of his own.

You and Johnny double-teaming Ghost to poke fun at him.

Realizing that Ghost actually has a pretty wicked albeit deadpan sense of humor. You can especially see it with Soap. Can and does encourage Soap to do the thing rather bluntly because he and Gaz have a betting pool going.

Simon being your silent but everpresent protector whenever he's with you. He likes to be in the background observing his surroundings. His eyes never leave your form, though.

Finding out he's quite the handyman. Simon likes keeping his hands busy.

Giggling and/or guffawing whenever he says the word knobhead or taco.

Never failing to become flustered at the way he looks at you. Simon emotes with his eyes more than anything. His gaze is powerful.

Learning to interpret his grunts. They actually vary depending on his mood.

Ghost having to buy boxer briefs (men's boxers are friggin' COMFORTABLE, you hear me?!) and hoodies more than usual because you almost always take his old ones. He doesn't mind as much as you think he does. In fact, he likes it when you wear his clothes. He just won't ever say it. Much. He will, however, show you how much he likes it...

Realizing that for all his size, Simon moves in silence. You've lost count of the number of times he's scared you.

Ghost having no problems entertaining you, especially when it comes to random ass conversations. Some of his responses, especially when said in a deadpan tone, are unintentionally hilarious.

Never failing to be impressed by the way he can multi-task, especially when you're talking to him. You tested it once because you thought he wasn't listening. He was. He repeated the last thing you said to him verbatim. Oh.

(Referencing this post) Ghost knowing he's in hot shit when you call his full name, complete with a middle name that changes every. fucking. time. To date, he is Simon Marie Amadeus Atherton Riley. Soap caught the Marie part and now he has the rest of 141 convinced that's Ghost's middle name.

Ghost learning the importance of self-care. Whenever he's in hot shit, it's almost always because he's pushing himself or won't allow himself the opportunity to rest.

Giving each other space when necessary. Ghost absolutely needs space to decompress when he gets home and afterward, you two are inseparable.

Using each other as human pillows. Whereas Johnny becomes The Soapurrito™, Simon tends to sploot on top of you. Especially when he's dead tired.

Texting him random ass questions and depending on the answer, Simon is yet again in the doghouse.

Talking about potential tattoos he can get. He shot down the idea of getting your name tatted on his lower back because... no.

#2queued4u. #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #x black reader #call of duty x black reader #task force 141 #cod x you #cod x black reader #cod mwii #ghost x you

[loveinhawkins]

During the tail end of November 1984, the stars align in cruel and unusual ways: Eddie ends up sharing a compulsory Phys Ed. class with both Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove.

Eddie groans when he find out, slams his forehead against his locker when no-one’s looking.

And the thing is, Steve isn’t the problem, not really. In fact, if he had been sharing the class with Steve alone, Eddie might’ve even considered it proof of some benevolent God existing. He’d probably have a few stressful occasions of trying not to make a complete fool out of himself—team sports are truly the worst, although he’s secretly not that bad of a soccer player—but at least he’d have a… nice view.

But no. Instead, the almighty schedulers of the Hawkins High timetable have decided to light the proverbial fuse.

Because sure, Steve’s known for being competitive, even borderline pissy if things don’t go his way on the basketball court. One would probably be subject to his baleful eyes for, like, five minutes at most before he got over it.

Hargrove, on the other hand, is another kettle of fish. In fact, he’s in a completely different fucking ocean.

He stalks through the school like a bloodthirsty gladiator, treats the gym like it’s his personal Coliseum.

Eddie honestly doesn’t know what the deal is, but he only has to witness Hargrove stare at Steve once from across the cafeteria to know that he loathes him. And from the quietly venomous look Steve gave in return, the feeling is definitely mutual.

So now he’s got to suffer through an entire period of playing baseball outside with the pair of them glaring daggers at each other. In a hilariously misguided attempt at easing the obvious tension, the teacher’s put Steve and Hargrove on the same team: Hargrove’s a center fielder and Steve’s the pitcher.

It’s neck and neck. Eddie is the last up to bat.

He steps forward with sweaty palms.

He’s got absolutely zero interest in being witness to the Hargrove v Harrington dick-measuring contest for any longer than he has to.

Please just let the ball be caught immediately, Eddie silently prays. Make my execution swift and painless.

“Hey, batter, batter,” Hargrove calls with his usual menacing sleaze.

Fucking juvenile.

Annoyingly, when Hargrove predictably yells, “Swing!”, it still makes Eddie jolt, swinging the bat on impulse.

But Steve’s not thrown the ball yet; he’s still tossing it up into the air, like he’s got all the time in the world.

Okay, I know you’re pissed, but quit the mind games, Harrington.

Steve catches Eddie’s eye, gaze lingering too long for it to be a coincidence. Then he drops the ball.

Billy chuckles. “Still clumsy, huh, King Steve?”

Steve rolls his eyes. He bends down to pick up the ball.

Even from this distance, the fading bruise on his cheekbone is easy to spot.

Eddie doesn’t like to think about it too often, especially when paired with the nasty gleam in Hargrove’s eyes. It makes his stomach sink.

Steve picks up the ball with one hand, but he stays low, one knee to the ground.

And then…

When he speaks, his lips barely move. “Hey, Munson. Left-handed, right?”

Bewildered, Eddie nods.

Steve stands up.

Eddie’s expecting to be caught off guard, for the ball to suddenly spin towards him.

Steve shrugs one shoulder back, looks Eddie right in the eye.

He mouths, Ready?

… What the fuck?

Eddie nods again.

Steve throws the ball, and it feels as if it’s being drawn, like an irresistible magnet, right to Eddie’s bat.

Eddie swings.

Crack.

The ball soars.

Eddie sees Hargrove’s jaw drop, hears him swear as he dives for the ball. He misses, sprints after it as it speeds through the grass—

Steve laughs. “Dude, what are you waiting for? Run!”

Eddie does.

He hits a home run before Hargrove can even attempt to throw the ball near him.

Breathless and grinning, Eddie lies down with his back on the ground, as his teammates cheer.

But someone else is by far the loudest.

Eddie sits up to see Steve yelling in triumph, hands cupped around his mouth.

Then he winks.

And Eddie thinks he’s never seen Steve Harrington look more delighted to lose.

#sometimes high school can be joyful ❤️ #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #pre steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

[a-hazbin-reader]

THIS WAS MY BAD I FUCKED UP ANON I'M SORRY

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Brief mention of Y/N not having control over her own life

Description: 👆⬆️

It took a lot for Alastor to be nervous about something, like A LOT

He wasn't nervous to start his radio show, he wasn't scared to sing in front of a crowd or dance with a stranger

But meeting your father has his mind in shambles, he's never been so nervous in his entire life

Every negative quality he can think of is coming to the forefront of his mind and making a home there

Not even asking you out made him feel this anxious

Okay so that was a fucking lie

He's heard all about your father from you, knows how close the two of you are-now he knows how you felt meeting his mother

Your father made you the woman you are today, and all of your best qualities were apparently cultivated by your father, according to you anyways

But he plays it cool when you ask him to meet your father, giving you a charming smile and confident response

"It's about time you asked me that, my dear~"

Hugs you from behind and buries his face in your neck so that you don't see the panic in his eyes

Pretends like he's not worried about it whenever you bring it up but as his S/O you pick up on his mannerisms

He's often distracted, getting lost in his own thoughts, doesn't hear what you're saying, messing up food he normally makes with ease

It's different for him, to him meeting your father makes the possibility of losing you feel more real

If your father doesn't approve of him then not only would you be disappointed but he could keep you from seeing Alastor

And nobody would question it, nobody would ask what YOU want, a girl's father knows what best for her

Then you two would have to elope which wouldn't be the worst thing but you deserve more-

"Alastor..? Are you sure you want to do this?"

He immediately relaxes at the sound of your voice, turning to give you a reassuring smile and kissing your forehead

"Of course, my dear~! What sort of a man would I be if I was too scared to face your father?"

Oh, he's scared of making a bad impression

He leans into your touch as you place soft hands over his cheeks, smiling at him in a way that makes him feel childish for being nervous

"Oh darling, you have nothing to worry about...I'll protect you~"

"Very funny..."

"I'm serious! He will love you, you're very hard not to love~"

Your gentle embrace on his arm keeps him grounded throughout the entire walk to see your father

Maybe he nuzzles your head to give you affection, or maybe he does it because your scent relaxes him

Alastor is hilariously stiff when you two enter the restaurant, tensing up as you approach your father

He's handsome for a man his age but the way he carries himself with kindness and pride reminds Alastor of you

The old man's eyes light up and happiness envelopes his features as he takes notice of you, standing to meet you

The love between you and your father is painfully obvious, this here is a man who would die to protect his daughter

Something he and Alastor have in common

Then suddenly, a switch flips in him once you go to hug your father, no longer is he your nervous boyfriend

"Papa, this is the man I've been telling you about, this is Al-"

"Alastor! Pleasure to meet you, sir! Quite a pleasure! Might I just say you've raised an exceptional young woman!"

This is Alastor, the charming radio host who is utterly mesmerizing and able to talk his way out of any situation

The Alastor that originally caught your attention and kept it long enough for you to fall for him

He spends the entire lunch charming your father, laying out all his best qualities in the hopes that he's making a good impression

And he definitely is, or at least he seems to be

"Oh Y/N, you didn't tell me that he would be such a gentleman! Wherever did you find him?"

Oh Papa you don't want to know

"Oh you know...we just bumped into each other-"

"She immediately had my heart in her pocket from the first moment we met! I was wrapped around her little finger and didn't even know it until it was too late!"

Now you're blushing, Alastor's words, along with him pulling you into a loving hug, making you feel flustered

He may have been busy trying to impress your father, but he didn't forget who he was doing it for, making sure to pay attention to you

He couldn't ignore you even if he tried, kissing your cheek whenever you boasted about him or squeezing your hand when your father embarrassed you

Which he did, your father couldn't help but brag about his darling daughter and every good deed she ever did

All of Alastor's earliest worries are gone, now understanding that your father isn't the type of man to rule over his daughter

Rather the kind to build her up and encourage her to be her own person, loving her for her strengths instead of smothering them

Which makes Alastor respect the man even more than he already did

At one point you leave the table to use the restroom, leaving the two men alone with each other

The mood shifts a little bit, your father suddenly serious and doubtful as he looks Alastor over

"Just what are your intentions with my daughter? She's not the kind of woman who you can just toy with until the next one comes along. My Y/N is too good for a playboy."

Oh, so now it's a serious talk, that's fine, Alastor came here for a serious reason anyways

"I'm no boy, and I don't plan on playing with your daughter's heart, I meant what I said earlier. In fact, I wanted to meet you so that I could ask your permission to not only continue seeing her but to marry her."

Apparently, he said the right thing because your father's eyes widened in surprise for a moment before the warmth flooded back into them

The old man relaxed into his seat and simply nodded at Alastor as you came back, the two men coming to an understanding

The atmosphere at the table becomes much more casual after that, your father and Alastor talking and joking like old friends

It warms your heart to see your boys getting along so well, leaning on Alastor happily

He smiles and rubs noses with you for a moment before going back to the conversation, something that leaves you flustered

And apparently, it makes your father blush too, finding the two of you to be a cute couple

The love you both have for each other radiates more than any sort of PDA would

Your father thinks that Alastor wouldn't be the worst son in law to have, he's charming, hardworking, obviously loves you

Why he's nearly perfect but there's something about him that makes your father think he's dangerous

And maybe he is but as long as Alastor keeps his daughter safe and happy then what does he care?

It's your life after all

Later, when you all get up to leave, your father ignores Alastor's offer of a handshake in favor of hugging him

"If you marry her, then you best not ever leave her, not even in death."

"Not only will I never leave her, I'll do everything in my power to make her happy~"

"Good man, welcome to the family.."

You give your father a loving hug, and he whispers his approval to you, making you tear up and kiss his cheek

Alastor is a little concerned when he sees your glassy eyes but you kiss him happily before he can even ask what's wrong

Presses his forehead to yours once you two finally stop kissing, both of you panting softly

Your smile is so breathtaking, he almost doesn't even hear what you're saying because he's so mesmerized

"I told you that he would love you~"

GAHHHH SORRY THIS TOOK ALL DAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT

I HAD IT THEN DELETED IT AND HAD TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

[dev1lm4n]

lesson one: sensitive

ko-fi | series masterlist

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: under several notable circumstances, mr. miller finally decided that he'd be the best teacher for your first debut into sexual activities. even when all of it is to prepare you for your successful date.

word count: 5.4k (i know.. i went a little crazy on this lol)

warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, fingering, he's kinda mean, check umbrella warning on series masterlist

notes: i had so much fun writing this! tbh this one is super filthy compared to the other one so.. forgive me 🤲 COMMENT n REBLOG if u liked it

“I could take you home if you’d like. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t roam the street alone.”

Simon, more commonly referred to as Robotic Class Guy or French Fries, was surprisingly not half as bad as you thought he would be. He had all the height of a man but none of the bulk. From behind he could be easily spotted as someone in their late teens to early thirties, mostly blaming his horrid graphic tee and skinny jeans combo, but when he turned that face was all boy. His caramel hair flopped over his eyes in the way no office worker could get away with and on his wrist were bracelets in woven leather. 

At first, you accepted his awkward invite out of spite. 

Just to rid yourself of a certain plague festering upon your head, feasting on your brain cells so that you’d think of nothing but Mr. Miller in all his glory. Him with his tight worn-out jeans, spread open enough that you could see a naughty peak of his bulge, while he watched the soccer game. Him with his shirt off, bathing in the summer-induced moisture, while he mowed the front lawn and edged the curb. Him with his thumb parting your lips, looking at you like he’s about to consume you alive, but of course he didn’t. 

At least now that Simon came around, you’d have a new port to anchor your boat on.

“No, thanks, I’m alright. My..”

Who was Mr. Miller to you again? 

Your.. father? Absolutely not. Even if he’s taken you in as a part of the Miller family, just like how he used to say, you would feel like it’d be morbidly repulsive to deduce him to that particular role. For fuckssake, you stick a finger up your cunt every single week to the thought of him fucking you like one of his girls.

Then would a family friend be better of a word? Or should you just say that he’s a guardian of yours? But that’d be confusing, wouldn’t it? You glanced at your watch, counting the hour and minute hand as if it’d give you a revelation on how to answer Simon’s pop quiz.

“Someone promised to pick me up.”

That sure did sound ominous.

With a promise to leave a message to his cell once you’ve returned home safely, you stepped out of the quaint local restaurant. It was warm outside and you weren’t particularly fond of that. Heat has always been your mortal enemy; something about the musty scent of middle school boys’ armpits after PE class mixed in with the pungent perfumes they use to try and hide it has left you permanently traumatized. Your once-cheery mood had long evaporated along with any semblance of coolness. You tugged at the hem of your sundress, fanning yourself with your hand in a futile attempt to find relief from the stifling heat. This is hell!

Where was Mr. Miller?

Mr. Miller must've read your mind, because a honk quickly resonated. He was on the very corner of the parking lot; his large pickup truck looked hilariously out of place when compared to the array of city cars parked by his side. You swore you could see him grin from behind the shaded tint of his window, perhaps entertained at your almost too obvious annoyance. The thought made your heart jump and maybe even did a front-flip. God, you’re helpless!

As you beelined down the sidewalk and on to him, the heat seemed to intensify with every step. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, causing your hair to stick in weird shapes. You just hope that his truck’s AC works.

“Hi.. Hi, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, sweetheart. How was it?”

The nickname never ceased to exude so much power. ‘Sweetheart’ made you feel as if a tail had grown out right from the hilt of your ass and you had no other choice than to swish it around excitedly. You propped up one leg on the washed-off gray carpet, before swinging yourself into the vehicle in one go. The door closed behind with a loud thud. As you leaned back, you cringed at the feeling of your sweat-soaked dress clinging onto your skin. You felt like some marinated beef, sticky and in need of a quick shower.

“It was alright,” you hummed.

“Alright? Now that made me all the more curious,” he grinned, nudging your side with the edge of his elbow. “Com’on now. Tell me all about it, will ya?”

“Mr. Miller, are you trying to embarrass me?”

Mr. Miller’s soothing brown eyes that were stuck on the glittering street lights came flickering over to you, as if he’s actually afraid that perhaps he’s made you uncomfortable. His shoulders squared and his jaw slackened for just a split second as he tried to grasp for any nuance you’ve just given. You then smiled at him, relieving him of his worries.

It’s a little jarring to say that you think he’s quite cute. In the same way people find puppies cute, or those strawberry-shaped trinkets. He’s a little socially-awkward in his own way. Embarrassed to ask the waitress to bring his plate back, but would be confident bullying his cock into a tight cunt. Would definitely get kooky when asked to join a parents-teacher conference, but would whisper filthy things on the internet.

“I ain’t tryna make you embarrassed,” he huffed out. “I just wanna know you’re safe.”

How nice. If only he knew why you went on dates in the first place.

“He’s alright, Mr. Miller. Kind, decently groomed, respectful,” you replied, flicking through your Twitter feed mindlessly. “Better than most college guys.”

“Did he pick you up?”

Your forehead scrunched up. “I ordered a cab.”

“Did he at least get the door for you?”

“It’s not exactly the 1900’s, is it?” you quipped back at him.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer.

“If you’re that curious, then no.”

“Well then, did he pay for dinner?”

“No, well.. I did offer for us to split it,” you reasoned.

“Well, sweetie, he’s not too respectful. Is he?”

“Yeah.. but he’s cute.”

He’s cute and you’re desperate to get over Mr. Miller. Terribly so. At first, the entire situation with having your pornstar crush be the head of your host family was hilarious, it’s a joke written by itself. But then the desires went through the roof in a matter of weeks and you’re sure that you’d actually jump him one of these days. He’s attached to the back of your mind like some ghostly presence. Everything he said and done carved at your brittle wall of determination and one day it’s all going to fall apart like broken glass. You needed to stop it from happening. 

There was a minute or so where he didn’t have anything to say. He hadn’t let go of the handbrakes either, though he appeared to be squeezing the leather cover of the steering wheel tighter.

“Cute ain’t enough for a man, sweetheart.”

Mr. Miller finally pushed down the handbrakes and released the pickup truck from the small parking lot. His large hands skillfully turned the wheels to fit through the tiny gaps, guiding the vehicle towards the open road. You shut your eyes for a good minute, then you let out a weighted sigh. Almost as if you’re a deflated balloon.

The drive was going to be a long one, considering the restaurant you’re on was in the heart of the town and Mr. Miller’s humble abode was more towards the outskirts. Would he continue preaching about the importance of Southern manners and being a gentleman? Because if he did, perhaps you’d just shut him up with a kiss.

“I’m just a little nervous,” you broke the silence.

“Because of the boy?”

“Sorta, yeah. It’s my first time..”

You clicked your phone shut, stuffing it on the cup holder next to the car stick. The entire conversation was making you nauseous. You had to press on the button on your left to slide down the windows in order to take in fresh air. Through the open window, a gentle breeze tousled the top of your hair, carrying with it the familiar scent of Summer in Austin. As he drove closer into the outskirts of town, the lights gradually faded behind into a sea of twinkling stars.

“First time in what?”

“In all this,” your hand motioned the idea abstractly.

“You’ve never dated?”

An enthusiastic grin snaked its way to his lips.

“I have! But it’s not- it’s not real. It’s middle school romance. We meet each other in the hallways, hold hands and giggle about it, then go on pizza dates,” you tried to explain. “I’ve never dated properly.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you tousled your hair in frustration. “Just because, Mr. Miller. I’m not sure either. Maybe I’m just comfortable in my own little bubble?”

“Then this boy.. What’s his name again?”

“Simon.”

“Right, Simon. Are you thinking of dating Simon properly?”

“Maybe,” you muttered.

“Maybe I could teach you,” he paused. “Well, that is if you’d like this old man to teach you old tricks.”

Your hands tightly clutched the edge of your seat. A rise of bile disturbed your throat's peace as a knot of anxiety started to form in your stomach. This is what you’re working towards.

You didn’t want to admit it, because admitting means legitimizing what you had in mind, but you were hoping for him to offer you help in any way that he felt was right. Despite your.. odd relationship with him, he was your guardian and you’ve seen the way he dealt with all Sarah’s problems with soft-spoken words and fair actions. You trusted him to help you delve into this new world of adult romance, but it’s not like you’re expecting for him to agree on it. Shit, shit, shit! You couldn’t think straight.

“Com’on then. Tell me what you’re so nervous of.”

“You’re gonna laugh at me,” you groaned.

“I’m not!”

“You are,” you persisted.

“Fine. I promise not to laugh.”

You took a deep breath. The single word sticky on the end of your tongue.

“Sex.”

The pickup truck swerved.

To your surprise, instead of howling and laughing at your lack of experience, he was quiet. Awfully so to the point where you think you’d rather have him laugh at your patheticness instead of giving you the cold shoulder. You rolled the window back up, giving him your full attention as you waited for him to do something. He looked tense; the grip he had on the steering wheel was so tight you could see the leather developing crescent-shaped marks. What was he thinking of?

“Do I.. do I have to give you the talk?”

“God, no! Mr. Miller, I’m not clueless,” you looked horrified that he even considered giving you the birds and the bees talk. “I am, but I know what happens.”

The hours you’ve spent analyzing each and every one of his videos surely made an impact on how you view sex. Perhaps not the most accurate one, since you were merely looking through a 720p video and not being present in the scene, but you knew how sex goes. How it starts, what arousal looks like, what appears to feel good and what doesn’t, and how good an orgasm looks like when induced by another person. Mr. Miller might not be aware of how much he’s taught you. Not directly, but in a cause-and-action kind of way.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he hummed.

“Making a mistake,” you muttered dejectedly. “Of it not feeling good.”

A beat passed.

“Do you..” he struggled to speak properly. “Do you want me to teach you?”

What were you thinking! It was one thing to harbor intense, disgustingly filthy feelings towards a man who perceived you as an addition to his family, but it was another thing to act on it desperately. Your mind reeled back towards the exact moment when you agreed on his proposition. How you agreed on it instantly as if it wasn’t even a question, how you nodded your head miserably as if you were afraid that you’d miss this one chance, how you buckled your knees at the thought.

God, how pathetic can you be! You didn’t remember much after such a cathartic turn of events. All you managed to compile in that pretty little head of yours was that he took a different interchange, then slipped onto a highway towards.. whatever this place was.

It was on the outskirts of town. Opposite to where he lived. Big trees grew tall and heavy as they provided a mystique veil for the trailer house. You remembered the shade of peeling paint covering the outside, sky blue. The lanterns provided ample lighting for it to be spotted from a distance, but not enough to attract rowdy attention. Mr. Miller told you to come inside first while he secured his pickup truck properly. He mentioned a thing or two about racoons or squirrels, but you were too high off adrenaline to even notice. Being in the property, you instantly knew where you were.

This was his lair.

Where he shoots his videos, where he invites all his pretty co-stars to make them moan and whimper about how good his cock felt and how deep it went, where he edits those striking millennial-core thumbnails. Your throat grew dry and you began to think if it’s time to bail. He’d understand, wouldn’t he? Mr. Miller would just take you home and forget about it. Then, by next summer, you’d be out of his hair and he’d never even think about it.

A creak sounded from the front door. You jumped.

“Hi, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. Your entire body went cold, especially the tips of your fingers and toes as you saw him come close. One step at a time. Almost as if he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t scare you too much. Mr. Miller looked awfully big up close. You never seemed to notice this entirely when you see him around the house, but when he’s confined in this miniscule trailer house, he looked massive. His presence towered over every last bit of your confidence. It’s surely crumpling - your confidence - slowly dissipating into thin when he was flushed against your chest. 

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller.”

He pulled a foldable chair from one of the open compartments, before taking a seat on it. He spread his legs, as always, and had this look in his eyes. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” he paused, before resuming. “You could tell me you don’t feel like doin’ this anymore and I could take you home. Won’t talk about it anymore if you don’t wanna.”

“I.. I want to do this, Mr. Miller.”

“Are you sure? There ain’t no pressure in this. I’m simply here to help you, sweetheart, so if you feel like-”

“I get it, okay, I get it. I trust you. A lot. And I know you’d be the best person to teach me.”

What were you even saying? This was straight out of your wildest wet dreams and perhaps that’s why you’re so adamant about it. You watched silently as he contemplated his choices. Mr. Miller scratched his beard for a short while, his gaze focused beyond you and you could almost watch in real-time how his morals and values crumbled onto the creaky floorboards. He stood up from his small chair and headed right towards where you were standing idly. Is this what May felt like in those videos?

“Alright, sweetheart. I ain’t a vocal man so this is gonna be challenging even for me,” he chuckled gruffly. “Every man has their way of settlin’ with their ladies, but I like ‘em stripped off their clothing first. So will you be a pretty thing and do that for me?”

For a second, you were as still as a rock. Entirely not used to having the person who initiated many if not all of your orgasms giving you these orders in real life. He’s right there in front of you, flesh and bones, telling you to strip off your clothing. It felt like a fever dream. You must’ve had a weird look on your face, because a grin started to form on those chapped lips of his.

Conscious of the mistake, you quickly reacted. Almost skittishly in a way as you pulled on the zipper that’s located on your right ribs. Your fingers fumbled with one another, as if it’s been braided into one, but you managed to loosen it after a few attempts. You slipped your right arm under the spaghetti straps, before you slipped the other one. The only thing holding your modesty together was your one arm that’s holding onto the support-less front flap of your sundress.

“Com’on now. It’s just me. You can act shy and adorable around Simon, but not this old man,” he teased.

You nodded, hesitantly letting your arms fall to the side. The terribly warm weather encouraged you not to wear a bra. Although you wondered if 3 PM you knew that you’re going to be engaging in some promiscuous agenda this evening. You looked up into his eyes for some kind of guidance, in which he responded with a curt nod, before you tugged on the dress so that it’d slide onto the floor.

Now the only piece of modesty you’re wearing is your plain white panties. Your breasts were entirely exposed, cold nipples firming up as it reacted to the change of temperature. This is embarrassing! Mr. Miller was being incredibly methodical in the ways in which he approached the situation, lacking sloppy mouthy kisses and feverish touches.

“Smart girl,” he complimented, almost on instinct. “Let’s get on the bed, yeah?”

You moved adjacent to him. Mr. Miller was gentle when he patted the spot next to him, allowing you to settle down properly while he fixed a pillow behind your back. To think that you’re positioned on the same bed where you’ve witnessed him please an array of girls made you feel some sort of way. A hitch in your heart, a twitch in your hole. You’ve never witnessed him this gentle. He’s always fond of establishing the power he held on the dynamic he’s presented, always telling girls what to do in quick succession and calling them humiliating names if they fail to do as told. With you, he was sweet and rather funny.

“In my experience, one of the things girls like the most is to be withdrawn from control,” he spoke up into the thick air. You didn’t miss the way his eyes cruised along your beaded nipples, or the way it watched you with feral precision. “Of course, it depends on the person. But you. I think you’re a sensitive one, are you?”

You nodded obediently.

“Cross your arms behind your back,” he ordered and watched closely as you followed suit. “Lean back onto the pillow.”

You copied his order. Only then did your finicky brain finally compute that you’re limited off your movements now. With your body weight acting like paper weight for your arms, it’d be impossible for you to react in quick time.

“Good girl.”

His mindless comment made you tighten your thighs together.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” he whispered gently. You could watch how he’s slowly approaching you with much caution. His arms caged you in as it dug into the tangled sheets next to you. He’s testing the currents, making sure you’re fully consenting to the experience before he makes any mistake that might ruin your perception of sex. “Ask your little friend to touch you slowly. None of that frisky aimless touching. If he pulled on your nipples and called it a day, I’d leave his ass.”

This little routine he had, the one Wicked Fantasies had, was memorized into your head and to watch it take place right in front of you made you ecstatic. He caressed the side of your face. Gently even with those big, large fingers of his, he managed to take up a good portion of your cheek. Mr. Miller then made his way to your lips. He swiped it once over your upper lip, then another time over your thicker bottom lip. You’d anticipate for him to stick his thumb in deep enough so that he could see your uvula properly, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled on pressing down your tongue as if to pin it against the lower floor of your mouth. A good amount of saliva was collected that when he pulled away, a lewd string remained intact.

“Do you know why I like pinning a girl’s tongue down?” he queried to increase comfort in a way.

“No,” you whispered breathlessly. “Why?”

“It makes ‘em docile,” he muttered. “Encourages submission and I like a pretty girl who listens.”

Mr. Miller’s fingers dragged through the curves and texture of your warm skin, leaving goosebumps on his wake, before he finally reached your two perky nubs. Each one hardened before he could give them the treatment they both deserved, which in a way broke his routine, but instead of being irritated, he appeared to be pleased.

Girls in his videos weren’t as sensitive as you. They didn’t get riled up just by a little touching and teasing. Seeing you like this was a refreshing touch. One that made the wrinkles on his forehead ripple as his eyebrows quirked. He circled his calloused finger around where the pigmentation started. Once, twice. Right until he was merciful enough to press against the apex of your nipples.

You squirmed.

“So sensitive, are you?” he cooed. “Tell Simon to play with your sensitive little nipples, hm? You look like you could cum just by this.”

“O-oh please!”

“Please?”

You couldn’t respond. Not when he’s rolling the most sensitive part of your nipples between the pads of his thumb and the side of his pointer finger. Touching your breasts with your own nimble hands felt nothing like what he’s doing right now. You instinctually grinded your leaking pussy down onto the bed, almost like an animal in heat.

“Poor thing couldn’t even tell me what she wants. What would Simon think, hm? A girl with no self control like you,” he hummed. Mr. Miller quickly held onto your thighs so that you’d stop rocking onto the bed and getting off from pleasure he’s not offering. Your eyes met his, searching for help, but the sweet and respectful Mr. Miller wasn’t there anymore. “Alright now, sweetheart. You have ta make sure that you’re thoroughly aroused before thinkin’ of even touchin’ this place.”

“You’re new at this,” he hummed. His fingers slipped off the hold he had on your nipples before it slid down your stomach and settled precisely above your clothed clitoris. “It’s gonna hurt bad if you’re not properly lubricated. Sex is supposed to be fun, not painful so if some guy tells you that it’s supposed to hurt, don’t listen to his dumb shit.”

Mr. Miller was incredibly informative if you put aside the fact that he’s touching you in all the right places that it’s making you go dumb. He spent the time explaining why an action must be provided and how to perform it, when you know for a fact that this is not what he’s used to doing. Wicked Fantasies was known to be straight with words, using minimal sentences to provide his co-stars with just the right amount of information. You could tell he’s holding back the urge to be meaner, to act the way he likes, just for you to be more comfortable.

“Let’s take a look, shall we? You think I did a good job, darlin’?”

It’s dark out. There’s only one source of light that’s present in the room. A small bedside lamp in the shape of an elephant, Sarah’s favorite animal that’s grown to be yours as well. This session with him felt intimate; you’d expect for him to bring out the bright light panels and reflectors just like in those videos you watched of him, but instead, he mostly depended on the moonlight rays.

You were acutely aware of how those dark eyes of his mirrored your own. The way he studied you was unlike any other, not with an invasive intent, but rather with heed. You watched as he hooked his fingers on each side of your panties. Slowly dragging it down, only to stop to wait for you to ease your thighs upwards.

“Look at you,” he chuckled. “I’m right about you bein’ sensitive. Don’t think we need any lube when your pussy looks like this.”

By instinct, you brought your thighs together, shy that he’s observing you with such vulgar intensity. He hummed out a tone of disapproval and quickly placed his arms on both of your knees, prying the two apart as if he’s opening a stubborn can of bolognese. You bit your bottom lip, stifling the noise of embarrassment.

Anxiety bubbled up inside of you. You wondered if you looked okay down there - no other men had seen it besides him! - or if there was something strange that caused him to halt. There was a lewd string of sticky arousal pooling on the center of your panties. You silently watched as it stretched and broke as Mr. Miller pulled the thin fabric away.

“You’re soaked, sweetie,” he teased.

“Mr. Miller, that’s- that’s embarrassing..”

“You like to touch yourself, don’t you?”

Your eyes flickered towards his direction in fear. Has he discovered your incurable obsession for him and his erotic videos? That couldn’t be, could it? There’s no scientific correlation between being extremely aroused with masturbation as far as you’re aware, but the confidence he exude made you doubt yourself. Mr. Miller moved in a painfully slow tempo, taking his time to caress your inner thighs and stomach before even considering touching you where it ached. His calloused fingers felt different against your skin. It left a fiery trail in its wake.

“No, I don’t,” you lied with a breathless squeak.

“It’s okay if you like to touch yourself, y’know,” he whispered as if taunting you. “Girls who like to touch themselves understand themselves better.”

Mr. Miller finally touched you properly. His pointer finger probed against your clitoris, touching in the lightest feathery manner possible that you couldn’t have felt it if you weren’t concentrating. Your hips followed the brief source of pleasure, only to be disappointed when you notice that he wasn’t there. He pulled his finger close to his mouth and made a big show out of it. The way your arousal glistened under the pale moon rays, Mr. Miller teased you with his expressions and mannerism. He dipped the stained finger in his lips to have a good taste while keeping  eye contact.

“Please touch me.”

“What was that, sweetheart?” he hummed.

“Please touch me again. It feels go-”

You were cut off immediately when he lazily drew a perfect circle on top of your hooded clit.

“Fuck, please, please, sir.”

Ah, he liked that. He liked the new name you’ve granted him. Mr. Miller was kind enough to resume what he was doing. His finger descended down onto your throbbing hole to gather a good amount of slick before he brought it up to aid his ventures.

“The best way to feel good is controlled pleasure. It feels better to be denied than to receive boring continual pleasure, so..” he paused his movement all together. “I’m gonna teach you a little game.”

“A little game..” you sounded like you’re about to cry from his sudden withdrawal.

“Count to ten, properly. Then I’ll reward you with more. If you fail, then we gotta start from the very beginning,” he explained. His warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit. “You think you can do that, pretty girl?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll start now.”

“One, two..”

You felt how he made his laps around your nub. It was much more intense than the pleasures you’ve initiated before. Compared to rutting against a pillow, grinding against a bedpost, or laying under the tub’s running water, this felt like an entire new experience. You fought to keep still, but it’s gradually getting harder when his finger starts prodding against your tight little hole.

“Three, four. Please, Mr. Miller. Oh god,” you whimpered by accident. He didn’t like that one bit by the look he gave you. There weren’t rules and promises to this, no dynamic the two of you have agreed on, but you couldn’t help but be terrified of his disapproval. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir.”

“From the start,” he ordered.

“One, two, three..”

You could barely remember the numbers in your head despite encountering them almost every day of the week. You’re a smart girl, knows your ways around things, but being touched by Mr. Miller makes you go all dumb.

“Four, five, six..”

Your thighs began to twitch and spasm. You catched the way he pulled back the hood to your clit to get a more direct touch. It was working wonders as the sensation now is a lot more electrifying. Arousal dribbled down your twitching hole and onto the crack of your rear, wetting the sheets beneath you with the sticky clear substance.

“Seven, eight, n- nine!”

You jutted your hips out when his fingers brushed over your clit once more, the sensitive bundle of nerves extra aware of his presence, and he managed to hold you back once more. He’s forgiving. You knew he’d punish his co-stars if they couldn’t stay still like you, but he let this one slide. He continued rubbing slow, tight circles only to alter into an eight shape.

“Ten.”

The ultimatum. It has arrived, your key to heaven.

“Smart girl,” he cooed, never actually stopping. “This little hole of yours looks neglected, hm?”

“Yes, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Touch your clit slowly like I taught you,” he ordered. “You can do that can you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, distraught and ruined. With his sweet permission, you pulled one arm out from your back and rested it right above your clit. Slow and steady. Just like how he ordered. Mr. Miller on the other hand was slicking up his pointer finger with his tongue. Fuck, that looks so god damn hot.

He had pressed his sole finger deep into your warmth with no hesitation whatsoever. The combination of his calloused finger against your walls and the golden freckles inside his narrowed irises had you reaching out for his forearm. Your nails came in contact with his skin as you dug upon it, crescent shapes formed in pinkish shades atop his skin. You had to sit up as the only way you’re getting through this is by leaning on his sturdy arm.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Filthy girls like you love to get their holes filled?”

What you didn’t expect was having him press a second finger in. His one finger was thicker than what you’re used to, but two fingers? That makes you an overachiever for sure. You looked up to meet his eyes frantically. You knew he wouldn’t be kind enough to withdraw the action when his mind is already set on it, but it was worth the try. He cocked his head arrogantly as he pursued his plans. Mr. Miller’s middle finger was a tight fit. Barely able to slip past the ring of muscles. Though when he did manage to get himself in, a loud moan escaped your lips. 

“Mr. Miller. I can’t- I’ve never- never taken two fingers!”

“I know you can do it, sweetheart,” his free hand went over to run over your sweaty hair, admiring every inch of you. “You wanna please that boy, don’t you? Little Simon?”

He was skillful with his fingers, perhaps from his job requirements. Although it’s still incredible how he managed to have you squirming, yelling how you’re about to cum in a matter of seconds. All he did was switch between pumping the two in you, creating the filthiest sounds, and reaching upwards to hit that certain spot of yours. You rubbed your clit with much concentration as you followed after his thrusts.

“Mr- oh.. Mr. Miller! I’m gonna cum, sir.”

“You’re gonna do that for me?” he grinned, pushing his fingers into you as deep as they could go. He maintained a steady pace, emphasizing pressure on that spongy spot up top that you’ve never managed to reach with your stubby fingers. “Pretty girl gonna cum from my fingers?”

“Yes, yes.. sir. Please.”

“Cum for me, darlin’” he whispered. “Show me how good you can be.”

Oh god, you're in a lot of trouble.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tw age gap

[dantakeyoman]

Hi! I wanna cry out my heart tonight so is it alright for you to make a neteyam x reader where neteyam comes back home after the war but hears that reader is mated/bonded with someone else?

Btw I love your works omg! 🥹

Neteyam Returns From the Metkayina and Falls In Love With You Again After Seeing You (SFW / Comfort)

Reader is Fem! Omaticaya

CW: i'm sorry but i couldn't bring myself to do it :'), i had it all planned out but it was just too sad, i hope you're alright with the change tho, fluffy fluff, simp Neteyam appearance, reader is one too, Lo'ak and Kiri are, yet again, Lo'ak and Kiri, skeezy is when someone is weird or creepy, figured I’d slide some black slang in there

"Someone's excited," Kiri giggles, turning to Neteyam as her and Lo'ak's ikran approached the entrance to the Omaticaya Stronghold.

The boy had had this childlike expression plastered on his face nearly the whole way home, which grew in giddiness the closer the family drew to their forest home.

Even in the earlier days when they had stopped for rest, she clearly remembered how much he mumbled your name in his sleep, as if it were a prayer.

It made her want to swoon and gag at the same time.

He's so hopeless.

"Yeah. We all know what your excited to see," Lo'ak smirked, pulling his ikran closer to Neteyam's, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Or should I say...who?"

Neteyam scoffed, rolling his eyes at their antics.

Ever since their journey started, the teasing had been relentless. So much so that it didn't even faze him anymore.

What's a few more minutes of it anyway?

Seeing you again would be his greatest reward.

Four years of pining and longing would all be worth it. 

The hard days, the cold nights, the times where he felt like he couldn't anymore. You came to him, be it a dream, or a memory, and told him you could.

It was what made him love you so much.

Even if you weren’t there, you were there for him, easing his body, mind, and soul.

Back when he lived with the Omaticaya, you two had a special spot that one would go to if they were sad, mad, tired, or simply overwhelmed.

The other would comfort them, hold them close, say sweet nothings, make the other feel loved. 

It became a regular thing. And now that he was coming back, it was the very first thing he wanted to do with you.

He wanted to feel you run your hands through his hair, he wanted you to trace his glowing freckles, he wanted you whisper how much you loved him into his ear.

Fuck.

“You know what would be hilarious? If she found a mate already,” Lo’ak poorly joked, turning to Kiri.

This quickly brought Neteyam out of his reverie, a nervous frown quickly replacing his smile

Kiri was quick to catch this.

“Don’t joke like that, skxawng!” she scolded, flicking him harshly on the head, earning an angry ow! from him.

“Last I checked, (y/n) was obsessed with Neteyam. She wouldn’t shut up about him. I highly doubt she would ever find someone else.”

But the words went through one ear and out the other.

The thought you would mate with someone else never crossed Neteyam’s mind. But now that it did, it made perfect sense.

Four years was a long time, and you were a beautiful woman.

No doubt some skeezy warrior tried to snatch you up the moment you came of age.

The thought made his blood boil, and his heart wrench.

This couldn’t be the case.

After all he’d been through throughout these four years, the only thing that was keeping him going was the thought of you waiting for him at home.

Now that there was a possibility of you no longer being his, he was truly contemplating turning back.

“Look alive kids. We’re here,” his dad smiled, pulling his ikran to the front of the pack.

“Yay! Home!” Tuk cheered from her spot with Neytiri, earning a laugh from the woman.

She was quite excited to be home, too.

They swooped into the cave, perching the ikran on the stone ledge before dismounting, the entirety of the clan running towards them, crowding the family.

Shouts and cheers of excitement echoed throughout the cave, the cave happy to see their former Olo’eyktan had returned, hopefully ready for him, or his son, to resume the mantle.

Despite the thick crowd, Mo’at managed to make it to the front of the mantle, along with the new Olo’eyktan.

“Jakesully, oel ngati kameie,” Mo’at nodded, pointing her hand from herself to Jake.

“Mo’at, oel ngati kameie. Olo’eyktan, oel ngati kameie,” Jake did the same, turning to the Olo’eyktan as well.

Once the formalities were out the way, Mo’at smiled, enveloping her family in a large hug.

“Welcome home,” she greeted.

The entire family hugged her back, the children happy to see their grandmother again.

“Grandmother! You will never believe what we have seen! All of the sea animals and the plants! Oh, and the tulkun!” Tuk happily rambled, hanging onto her grandma a little longer as the rest of the family broke away.

“I am sure you will tell me all about it tonight. My, you have gotten big!” Mo’at assured, hugging her granddaughter tightly.

While Neteyam was happy that his family was fully reunited once again, he still found his eyes scouring the crowd, looking for a familiar face.

Your familiar face.

“She is in the healing tent,” Mo’at whispered, recognizing her grandson’s distress.

He smiled, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before running off through the crowd, down the familiar path that always led him to you.

Visions of the day he left flashed through his head, reminding him what he was coming back to.

“Are you sure you have to go?” you tearfully asked, cupping his face in your hand.

“I must. My family will put everyone in the clan in danger if we stay,” he sighed, pulling you in closer by your waist, resting his forehead on yours.

“Well if you must,” you sniffled, quickly wiping a tear from your eye. “Then I support you. I will wait for you, Neteyam. For as long as it takes.”

When he snapped himself out of it, he was already at your tent flap, the piece of cloth the only thing keeping you two apart.

He was about to grab it, but stopped mid-way, hesitating.

What if you had really found someone else to love?

“I will wait for you, Neteyam. For as long as it takes,” your words repeated in his head.

He sighed, steeling his nerves, before yanking open the tent flap, walking in.

“Tsahey! How many times have I told you, Ateyo! You have to be more careful when climbing trees. If you had fell any different, you would have cracked your skull open,” you scolded, smoothing a mushroom salve over a large cut on a young boy’s forehead.

You back was turned, and you didn’t hear the flap sound over the boy’s complaints.

“Hitxoa, (y/n). I tried to be extra careful this time! But a syaksyuk came out of no where and shook the branch!” Ateyo whined, wincing at the sting of the paste.

The air caught in Neteyam’s throat as he got a good look at you, his eyes raking up and down your body.

You had grown so much.

Your hair had gotten longer, your chest had gotten larger, and your hips had gotten slightly bigger, with a slightly deeper curve to them.

It was making something stir in his stomach.

The feeling reminded him of that word he had caught his dad calling his mom once. The one that Neytiri hissed at him for when she realized the children were around.

What was it?

Sexy.

When you stopped rubbing the salve on him, the little boy opened his eyes, only for them to land on the tall, warrior behind you, who gave him a polite wave.

The boy gasped in shock, his eyes growing wide with awe.

He knew exactly who he was, every Omaticayan boy did. 

Neteyam the Warrior, brother to Lo’ak the Warrior. 

Stories of the brothers’ adventures were known throughout the clan. And they practically became legends to the children. 

You cocked a brow, slowly turning around. 

“What are you-.” Your breath hitched when your eyes met that of the warrior before you, his smile growing at the sight of your face.

You had gotten more beautiful, too.

You slowly stood up, looking the boy...no, man, up and down, a dark shade of blue growing on your cheeks.

He had gotten incredibly tall, and beefier, too. 

And with new muscle, came new scars, which now littered his body, in a good way.

In an attractive way.

You would enjoy hearing stories about them as you traced them later tonight.

“Oel ngati kameie, my love,” he smirked, doing the gesture along with it, deeply hoping those words were still true.

The biggest smile you had smiled in four years found their way to your lips as you broke into a run, tackling the poor man in a bear hug.

“My Neteyam! You have returned!” you exclaimed out of pure happiness, throwing your arms around his neck and going on your tippy-toes to kiss him on the lips.

You were no longer tall enough to kiss him normally.

He laughed into it, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him ( if that was even possible ).

After your display of affection, he felt foolish to think you would ever mate with someone other than him.

As the two of you broke apart, he looked into your beautiful, honey eyes, and smiled as saw they held so much love behind them.

You were looking at him as if he hung the stars right before you.

And he recognized this because this was the very same look he would give you.

When you weren’t looking, of course.

“Look how beautiful you have grown. You must be the most sought woman in the clan,” he smirked, sensually tucking a stray braid behind your ear.

You smirked right back, bringing your hands to rest on his chest.

“Ah, yes. It has come to that,” you playfully sighed, leaning in closer so your mouth lay just outside his ear, bringing your voice down to a whisper.

“But I have saved myself for you.”

Neteyam quietly growled, the stir in his stomach increasing tenfold as he thought of what would happen if he took you to Utral Aymokriyä tonight.

“As have I,” he huskily whispered back, giving your neck a quick peck.

His tone made you shudder, suddenly begging for eclipse to come so you two could sneak off.

“GROSS!” the little, forgotten boy exclaimed from the corner, holding his stomach as if he were about to throw up.

“Disgusting! You’re a warrior! You’re not supposed to like this lovey-dovey stuff!” he groaned, pointing to his mouth and gagging.

“Get out of here!” you scolded, turning around and placing your hands on your hips.

But not before Neteyam pulled you into him, your back resting on his strong chest.

“Yeah. Before I start kissing her again,” Neteyam teased, placing a long, dramatic kiss on your cheek, making you giggle.

“GROSSSSS!” the boy loudly groaned in agony, covering his eyes as he ran out the tent.

The two of you laughed at the boy’s antics before you turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck once more.

You both stayed in comfortable silence, having a silent conversation as you stared into each others eyes, taking in every detail and committing it to memory.

Just in case you two would have to separate again.

“You know,” you started, smirking as one of your hands find it’s way to Neteyam’s hair, rubbing it in the way you remembered he liked.

“I was being serious before. I have saved myself.”

You gave a light tug to some of his hair, and the man let out a strained groan, using every ounce of his strength to keep him from closing his eyes in pleasure.

You massaged his head so well.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hold you again,” he sighed, tightening his grip around your waist.

You smiled, inching your face closer to his, to the point where your lips were a hair away.

“Then what are we still waiting for?” you purred.

That was his tipping point.

With a growl, he enveloped your lips in a passionate kiss, and you kissed him back with just as much fervor.

Hooking his hands under your thighs, he picked you up, carrying bridal style as he took you the back way out the tent.

“Neteyam!” you squealed, pulling out the kiss and tightening your grip around your neck, keeping yourself from falling.

“Quiet, my love. Or people will hear us,” he smirked, placing a quick kiss on your lips before running the both of you out the back entrance of the Stronghold.

Sure, you were serious about what you said. But past Neteyam would’ve never been bold enough to actually go through with it.

He had changed in these four years. He had grown confidence.

It was making something stir in you, even more so as you knew your destination would be Utral Aymokriyä.

This is going to be fun.

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #atwow x reader #atwow #omitacaya

[kuromiiyuuu]

how they treat you when you're drunk, jjk.

Geto, sukuna, satoru, and megumi. (f)

warnings, genre, tropes. none! | pure fluff | tropes. dormmate!getoxfem!reader, bf!sukunaxfem!reader, enemy!satoruxfem!reader heavy enemy to livers on satoru's part, boyfriend!megumixfem!reader |

Geto. 

"Y/n? what the fuck." he'd munble in his breath as soon as your friends dropped you off of your dorm. your dormate, suguru was luckily still awake, couldn't sleep peacefully since you were not home yet. but now you were, just a little drunk and tipsy, "you're coming home drunk now?"

"hey, stop being rude to me." you reply with a pout, you were tripping over your own words, you fell right on his arms, couldn't even balance yourself. yeah, you were just a tad bit tipsy. your weight was placed on suguru, he closes the door with his foot and carries you by his hand under your legs and the other around your waist. your arms wrapped around his neck for support, "you're handsome."

"and you're drunk." he replies with a tsk at the end of his sentence,"stop saying those things, you don't mean it."

suguru began walking towards your room, entering it and laying you down softly on your bed, "even if I'm drunk, it doesn't change the fact that i find you handsome. what's your name, handsome?"

suguru feels himself chuckling at your silly behavior, you were gonna lose your mind once he tells you the things you were saying right now. it was hilarious, but let me tell you a secret. he might find it funny but trust me, his heart was set in flames at your compliment.

"suguru, but you can call me yours."

"hello, yours!"

Sukuna.

"that's enough." sukuna mumbles, grabbing the shot glass you were about to drink and discarding the liquid on the ground as harshly. you looked at him with a frown, the obvious sign of alcohol can be seen in your appearance.

"but i want another one, kuna." you pout, your voice was trippy and just borderline drunk, your cheeks were red. your eyes were heavy, your head was spinning and you felt like you were floating, "stop being such a buzzkill."

you grabbed another glass and pouring another shot of alcohol but before you can bring the glass up to your lips, sukuna had taken a hold of it and discarded the liquid, again. behind his back, "let's go home."

your eyes suddenly shines in an instant, without him knowing you had already stretched your arms out for him, "carry me, hubby."

"hubby?" he asks, scoffing at the nickname. he was trying to act bitter towards it but to be honest, he liked it, "please refrain yourself from calling me unusual pet names, doll."

"you act so tough all the time when in reality..." your words trailed off when sukuna grabs you gently to help you get on his back. your arms wrapped around his neck. sukuna grabs your bag before hanging it around his neck. you snuggled comfortably against the scent of his soft pink hair, "continue your words, pretty." "im tired of thinking, kuna."

sukuna begins walking, the soft breeze of the night surrounded the loving couple, "you know... you can be cute sometimes."

Satoru. 

"oop. careful, sweetie." the silver haired tells you, tightening his grip on your arm more tightly but not to the extent where it started to hurt. you drank way too much alcohol than you can normally take, it was clearly your fault. and now you were facing the consequences for good, you got lost of what you were doing. now you had the man you genuinely hated take care of you after your friends were also in the world of their owns, "don't want to trip now, would you."

"get the fuck off me, satoru." you bite, despite the alcohol in your veins the hatred you had for the mand was still there which was surprising. you push him off of you, the force making you lose your balance, you instantly brig yourself to lena against the wall, your eyes barely opening, "leave me the fuck alone."

"you can barely stand." satoru laughs at your state, he loves seeing you suffer like this, "after three shots, really? what a weak shit you are."

"exfuckingcuse me?" you say, your eyes now opening but it turned to a glare instantly.

"are you passing through?"

you groaned, the pain in your head throbbed in the most fucking bitchh way and it was mixed with satoru's (ugly) face. you slide down to the floor before holding your head in pain, "seeing you makes my head hurt."

"oh don't blame me now sweetie." there was a pause after his reply. and it surprised you to say the least right when he crouched down to your level to meet with your eyes. you were still drunk, but your hatr for the man in front of you was unmatched, "want me to take care of you?"

"I'd rather eat glass."

"stop being a dramatic brat and just let me help you."

"fuck you."

"i dare you."

Megumi. 

"my head hurts, gumi. and the room... it's spinning." you complain, it was true, the fact that you felt so light headed was a vague feeling. you never were this drunk before and now that you were, let's just say megumi had a lot of things to take care of. your head rested on his shoulder with his arms wrapped around you, both of you sitting on the couch, "im not drinking ever again."

"that's normal." he replies shortly to you, his tone monotone as usual. he soothes your hair and you relaxed under his touch.

"you know." you lift your head up to look at him, the alcohol hitting in an instant. a thought suddenly pops up in your head and because of the drink that contained ethenol was in your bloodstream. your emotions were snesitive, and let me tell you, megumi was caught off guard as soon as you started crying, "are you thinking of leaving me, gumi?"

you cried even harder at the thought, by this time, megumi was unaware of what to do instead of eloping you into a tight hug. his face screamed a confused expression obviously, "i... im not. please stop crying."

"im sorry, i can't help it." and that just added fuel into the fire, you cried even harder. and you don't even know why, there was just this thing in you that you couldn't help it anymore, you were losing controls of your emotions and... it was the alcohol for sure, "im such a bad girlfriend!"

oh boy, this was going to be a ling night for the raven haired.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk ff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen ff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto #geto suguru #suguru #suguru fluff #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna #satoru fluff #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu satoru #megumi #megumi fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro

[izurou]

PLAYING THE PART FT. EREN JAEGER

synopsis: eren finds himself in trouble on halloween night, hot and terribly bothered, all because you wore that costume.

contains: female reader. modern au. established relationship. oral sex. penetrative sex. semi-public. praise + pet names. one mention of blood (costume) eren is kind of submissive but the boy is just in love with you(r pussy) hehe. 1.9k words.

note: for vlynn’s @keigosmelody money doesn't make the world go round, pussy does collab !

to the strangers in this nightclub, it might seem as if the arrow lodged in eren’s heart were real—shot with the utmost precision by cupid himself.

but it’s not, and it hasn’t been—it’s nothing more than a cheap piece of plastic acting as the pillar of his halloween costume, along with the bright red lip prints littered across his neck, and the blood staining his half-unbuttoned white button up.

the whole ensemble is rather boring compared to most of the others in attendance, but he loves it for two reasons—because it goes hand in hand with yours, and because it’s allowing him to hang all over you as much as he wants, and no one can say a damn thing about it—after all, he’s just playing the part.

“look at you,” he hums, running a thumb across your bottom lip as he stares down at you—pupils blown with love, lust, and not a single drop of alcohol. “most beautiful girl here.”

he can’t even blame himself for his behaviour, not when cupid looks this damn good—the little white wings and the cute halo, the flimsy red bow and the dress—fuck, the silk white dress that’s been pitching a tent in his pants all night. he has no one to blame, or thank rather, but you.

“don’t let anyone hear you say that,” you laugh, already envisioning the petty argument that would ensue should someone disagree.

“too late!” a voice chimes in from behind, and you easily recognize it as connie’s—turning to see him clutching his heart. “i’m right here, man.”

he and sasha agreed on going as cosmo and wanda—how he ended up as wanda, you have no clue, but he’s sure as hell making the most of his semi-permanent pink buzz cut.

“tch,” eren scoffs, amused at the pure boldness of his friend—hell would freeze over before he’d call connie beautiful.

he grabs your hand, brings it above your head, and licks his lips. “c’mon baby, show him.”

you’re used to eren flaunting you—he’s pulled this exact stunt numerous times, in front of numerous people, so the heat that floods your cheeks as you twirl is uncharacteristic to say the least.

and there connie stands, wishing he weren’t so goddamn hilarious—because now he’s witnessing eren eye fuck you in real time, all because your dress came up a little when you turned.

“that’s my girl,” he mumbles, resting a hand on the back of your neck as he leans down to press the sloppiest, open mouthed, borderline X rated kiss to your lips.

“eugh, keep it in your fucking pants eren!” is the last you hear of connie before he disappears into the crowd, presumably in search of his green haired counterpart.

you can feel the desperation radiating off your boyfriend—it’s laced in his sharp exhales, woven into the sweat that rolls down the side of his face, fused into every last one of the elements that make him human. he’s no longer playing the part, he simply is—in love.

“eren, let’s go home,” you insist, half expecting him to drag you out of there and straight to the backseat of his car. he remains silent though, and you wonder if he even heard you at all.

you watch him, noting the way his eyes dart around the room before they fixate on something—what, you’re not sure, but he seems to be pulled deeper into his thoughts the longer he stares. what, or who the hell is he looking at?

“come with me,” he blurts out, placing his palms firm on your hips as he begins to weave you through the crowd.

he heard you, loud and clear—but no, he doesn’t want to go home. you look perfect, right here and right now, with the neon lights reflecting off your glitter dusted skin—and so this is where he’ll have you. well—not here, in this exact spot, but not far.

“pictures, eren? i think we took enough before leaving.”

the pregame at armin’s house consisted of more picture taking than it did drinking, for memories, or whatever. selfies, group photos, ones of eren bending you over the bathroom sink—you have more than enough, so why is he heading for the photo booth in the corner?

“need some for my wallet, small ones,” he hums into your ear, pulling the excuse out of thin air—anything to get you inside.

it’s a small white box in the corner of the room, with a purple led light wrapped around the top, and a curtain that hangs a few inches above the floor—not ideal for privacy, but eren has about three minutes before he explodes, so it’ll do.

he thanks his lucky stars as he watches you walk right in, plopping down onto the small bench and mumbling something about your feet hurting—and oh, how he’s aching to get you out of those heels, and that fucking dress. okay, two minutes.

“here, you can sit,” you smile, planting your hands down beside you as you attempt to scoot over a little. your innocence is adorable, make that one minute.

“you’re cute,” he holds your gaze, dropping to his knees and slowly easing your legs open, wedging himself between them. “but i’m good right here.”

“eren! get up, we can’t,” you protest, pushing his forehead with the base of your palm. hard headed as ever, he barely budges. “what if someone—”

“no one’ll come in,” he smiles, and while he can’t promise that, he wants you to feel comfortable all the same. your objections will cease the moment he puts his mouth on your cunt, you both know that—it’s just a matter of getting to that point.

he sits back on his heels a bit and lifts his shirt, revealing the obvious bulge in his pants, and the little trail of hair that disappears below them.

“baby, look what you’re doing to me,” he hisses, throwing his head back a little for dramatic effect. a smirk curls onto his lips as he watches you drop your gaze to his crotch, and it grows bigger, more sinister when you lean back against the wall.

“yeah? you okay?” he leans in closer, ghosting his lips over your thighs as he awaits your response.

“yeah,” you breathe out, and he’s ordering you to lift your hips almost immediately—fingers looping around the waistband of your lace panties and pulling them down. he guides your legs over his shoulders, bunching the excess fabric of your dress at your waist and kissing up your thigh before zoning in on what he really needs.

he licks a stripe between your folds, and the low, guttural groan that rips from his throat is enough to fool you into thinking he just creamed his pants.

using his thumbs, he spreads you open—tossing all table manners and meal etiquette out the window as he latches onto your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue over the bud and dipping down to prod at your hole. there’s no real logic or reasoning behind his movements—he’s acting on pure instinct, for his own pleasure. you’re just lucky the bulk of his pleasure is derived from yours.

“mmm,” you whine, doing your best to stay quiet—because with every pair of shoes that walks past the booth, you feel your heart sneak up the back of your throat and threaten to tumble out of your mouth.

though, the idea of getting caught seems to be spurring you on all the same, because you swear you can feel your walls fluttering, just a little, each time you sense someone near—or perhaps it’s just the relentless pace of eren’s tongue. cause aside, you’re about to cum.

“eren,” you warn, feeling your orgasm brewing in your lower stomach. you’re almost positive he knows how close you are, but you still feel the need to let him know—in hopes he’ll let up a little when you do cum.

but again, your words fall on deaf ears.

and you can’t raise your voice any louder, for fear of anyone other than eren hearing you. all you can do is sit, hand clamped over your mouth as your boyfriend slips two fingers inside you, continuing to suck and nip at your clit, pushing you over the edge.

a string of muffled curses drip off your tongue as you cross your ankles behind eren’s head—and that position seals your fate, because you’re giving him no choice but to eat you out through your orgasm—and he does.

for every centimetre you scoot back, he moves forward three, until you’ve backed up so far you’re practically halfway up the wall, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as you tangle your fingers in his hair—and only when you release him from the confines of your thighs does he stop.

“good girl,” he purrs, keeping his eyes trained on your messy pussy—as if he were talking to it rather than you. his lips are almost as glossed over as his eyes, and it’s now that you realize he’s missing the focal point of his costume, the arrow—he must’ve ditched it somewhere along the way.

“fuck eren, what’s gotten into—”

“one more?”

he’s joking.

“please?”

he’s not joking. he’s like a puppy begging for treats, making your heart ache with those big pleading eyes—only a monster would say no.

“alright just, ease up a little, please,” you mutter, and since you asked so nicely, he’ll do just that.

he ghosts his mouth over your folds, savouring the warmth of you against his lips, the subtle scent of you filling his nose. his lashes flutter against his cheeks as he shuts his eyes, letting his tongue explore you at a much slower pace. “i‘m sorry baby,” he mumbles, “needed you so bad, look so fuckin’ gorgeous tonight, all for me, hm?”

“mhm, for you.”

the moan that leaves eren is embarrassing, and he wishes he cared more about the possibility of the horde outside hearing—you know, for your sake, but he doesn’t, not even a little bit.

“shit,” he mewls, sitting up on his knees and leaning forward to kiss you. he’s warm, hot to the touch, and he tastes like you. “please let me fuck you baby, please.”

you’re nodding your head before he even finishes begging—clearly all his desperation is starting to rub off on you.

within the minute, he’s positioned himself in your seat, pants pulled down just enough to free his cock, legs spread wide. his tip is pink and leaky, weeping for relief, much like the rest of him.

“sit on it,” he says, voice trembling with need as he grips your hips.

you peer over your shoulder as you back onto his lap, slowly working yourself onto his length as his nails dig into your skin. the moment you fully sink onto his cock—back of your thighs flush with his own, he cums.

he cums, with gritted teeth and furrowed brows as he nips at your shoulder, shamelessly letting the breathiest, whiniest gasps tumble from his lips. he’s never felt anything like this—the warm hug of your cunt as it molds around his dick, the weight of your body on his, keeping him in the planes of reality. nothing could—

“there you are!” a voice, sasha’s voice, echoes throughout the cube, and neither you or eren move a muscle. you can both see her out of your peripherals, poking her head past the curtain. “we’ve been looking everywhere for you two.”

good, she doesn’t know. any innocent bystander would look at the two of you and think you were merely sitting on his lap, just for the hell of it—and it’s all thanks to the skirt of your dress, flowing out onto his thighs and hiding the fact that he’s balls deep, shooting the last little spurts of his cum into you.

eren, with the crown of his head pressed flush against your back, cranes his neck to the side—keeping his expression as neutral as humanly possible as he meets sasha’s gaze.

“sorry,” he replies, “we must’ve, lost—lost track of time.”

he fumbles over his words, screwing his eyes shut as you involuntarily tighten around his length. it’s a good thing she’s intoxicated—otherwise you might’ve just punched your one way ticket to hell.

“connie said you guys ran off to fuck like rabbits, or something,” she slurs, drink spilling onto her hand as she stumbles inside. “that dumbass, he owes me a twenty.”

#izurou #eren x reader #eren smut #aot smut #aot x reader #eren jaeger x reader #snk x reader #snk smut #eren x you #eren yeager smut

[withahappyrefrain]

I wish you would write a fic where Jake is flirting with a plus size girl who doesn’t think he’s really attracted to her but still goes home with him (a bit self destructive she knows) but when she has to physically pull him from between her thighs because he’s about to pass out from the lack of breathing/cumming in his pants she realizes that “oh shit he does like me”

Oh I feel this so hard and this got away from me enjoy!

She thinks when Jake comes up to her that he wants to know about her friends, because why else would he come up and talk to her?

And when Jake asks her about herself, she still thinks that's his goal. So she's guarded, her answers are short and to the point. Just waiting for him to bring up one of the girls she came with, waiting for those four words that always come when someone like him talks to someone like her.

"Is your friend single?"

But strangely, those words never come. Because Jake (God bless him) just thinks the bar is too noisy and that's why you're being quiet.

"Do you want to go outside? Where it's not as loud?"

"Why?" It's an automatic response due to years of being ignored, rejected, passed over. It's genuine confusion because he could be talking to anyone here, so why would he want to talk to you?

Jake's brows knit together in confusion. He thought he was being very obvious in his flirting.

"So I can hear you better?" He says it like a question because he's confused too, just for a different reason. He had pulled out all the stops; buying you a drink, complimenting your smile, leaning in to close the distance between his body and her's.

But that hasn't stopped her from looking around the bar, keeping an eye out for snickering friends who are filming the interaction with their phones or passing a wad of cash to each other for winning a bet this Adonis was acting out.

Long fingers hooked themselves around her chin, gently tilting her head back to Jake's.

His smile is now soft, hesitant almost. Nothing like the eye-crinkling grin he had early when he found something she said hilarious.

"If you don't want to, it's fine. You can tell me."

A way out. A way to avoid rejection. A way to avoid being let down, avoid feeling unwanted.

Saying no is the sensible thing to do.

And yet, she finds herself out on the beach with Jake Seresin, who's looking at her as if she put the stars in the night sky.

She knows she can leave anytime, and so could he. She expects it, waits for a half assed excuse, an 'emergency' phone call to occur, an early meeting tomorrow morning. Anything for him to leave.

But Jake doesn't leave. In fact, he does the unthinkable and asks if she wants to come back to his place.

Another chance to leave that she didn't take. She knows whatever this is, it won't last longer than tonight. It's going to hurt like hell tomorrow morning, but it's fun to pretend that a guy actually wants to be with you, right?

But Jake keeps surprising her. First when he kisses her.

Second when he asks if she wants to go upstairs.

He hasn't had a drink since they left the bar, so alcohol isn't clouding his vision and the whole being in the Navy thing rules out drugs.

Maybe it's been a while since he's gotten laid and he's desperate. But even she knows that one is impossible given his looks and charms.

The biggest surprise is when he doesn't reach for the lamp after she lies down on his bed.

"Aren't you...going to turn it off?" She motions to the lamp, a rather incredulous look taking over her face.

Jake tilts his head to the side, resembling a confused puppy more than a Greek God.

"Why would I do that? Then I can't see you."

He wants to see me.

The words repeat over and over in her head. When he pulls off her shirt, she fights the urge to wrap her arms around her stomach, instead pulling him into a bruising kiss.

"You're so soft," his hands are traveling everywhere along her body, as if he's trying to commit the feeling to memory, "Fucking love it."

The seed of doubt becomes smaller and smaller as the night goes on, though it still looms in the back of her head. This is just for a night, it'll only last a night, but what's wrong with that?

There's a lot wrong with that, but that's something to talk in therapy. She tries to push it to the back of her mind, focusing on how good his tongue feels on her clit, how his fingers are able to find the spot that makes her whole body shake in pleasure.

Wait, how long has he been down there?

She was expecting him to come up when she first came but then he kept going.

The noises Jake was making kept getting louder too. Moans vibrating against her wet cunt. Then the bed began to squeak.

That was what caused her to lift her head up and look at the sight between her legs.

His eyes were completely closed as his mouth moved against her. What took the breath out of her lungs was the way his hips were moving frantically against the mattress, becoming more erratic as his moans increased.

Fuck, he was enjoying this.

He was enjoying her.

This was....new.

#ask #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you

[lunarw0rks]

laying down in bed with simon after you both finally come home and you start sharing stories and going over stuff that happened back at the base—he’s just quietly listening along until you mention how one of the soldiers purposely played the victim card when they tripped and fell. and simon would start LAUGHING. like not giggling, laughing. and you try to play it cool on the inside but you’re nearly ready to explode with excitement.

you’d be saying something like, ‘im serious simon. he milked the fuck outta that injury, all he did was trip over a dandelion. tell me why i saw him the next day walking into the mess hall with a cast on and crutches?’ and he’d fucking lose his mind

dude. imagine how comfortable he would have to be to LAUGH around someone. not his usual scoff or chuckle, but to genuinely find something hilarious.

you're both exhausted; muscles achy and sore, throats raw and dry, minds foggy and worn. all you desire to do — all you can do, is fall on the bed next to each other.

as always, simon silently nods and listens as you ramble about your eventful day. even if not much happened, he's going to listen. today was a treat, though, if you were to put it lightly.

"kid you not, simon, this rookie is going to drive me up the wall." you clench your fists as you picture the aggravating event. the rookie that had cried wolf, and somehow got away with it.

you've peaked the lieutenant's interest, making him raise a brow. "oh yeah, need me to kick his ass?"

his eagerness makes you scoff playfully. you wish it were that simple. "not that kind of problem," you say, continuing on with the story. "he tripped over a stick. claims he broke his foot — and now he's been cleared for light duties, all while my team and i pick up his slack."

from folded behind his head, his hand shot out to his mouth, failing to conceal the brief cackle you caused him. if there was one thing he had plenty of experience wit, it was pain-in-the-ass recruits. not laughter. that was new.

"a bloody stick?!" he exclaims, shaking his head at the ridiculousness. the silver lining to the bureaucracy, was that you had successfully lightened the damper on his mood. "if you want, love, I can make sure he's actually broken his foot. teach him not to cry wolf?" would he? probably. and honestly, you weren't that opposed. the recruit was a proper prick who hadn't gotten his rude awakening yet.

"this stick," he spoke after a few seconds of gentle chuckles, rolling over to face you. "how big are we talking? me big, or...?"

cheeky bastard.

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic #simon riley #task force 141 x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley headcanons #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost headcanons #mw2 ghost #cod x reader #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #tf 141 x reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod x male reader #cod x female reader #141 x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

[thecosmosdefys]

hi how u doin?♥ would u do general relationship hcs for ghost and könig pls?? :)<3

What dating Ghost & König would be like

Pairings: Ghost x GN ! Reader, König x GN ! Reader

Warnings: Violence, Cussing, Death

Synopsis: Just headcanons of how I would think Ghost or König would be in a relationship!

Author's Note: HIIII! Im doing good thank you so much for asking! Also I wasnt sure if you meant like? Ghost x König or like X reader headcanons so I went with what I thought you mightve meant? If this isn't what you wanted don't be afraid to put in another ask for my inbox!!! Also just want to note how excited I get when someone puts an ask in my inbox- I get so excited- It literally makes my day! Love you guys <333

Dating Ghost

I feel like if you dated ghost, at first he would seem a little cold around you? Like he wouldn't know what to do with emotional or physical intimacy. He doesn't give you the cold shoulder but he is so awkward at it at first.

Don't expect him to say I love you first, or even realises he loves you? Like before you guys start dating he is always around you, and picking to go on missions with you if your apart of the 114, but he doesn't seem to realize even though everyone around him does.

Once he starts getting comfortable with the relationship, he is like showing you off to everyone. You're like his prized trophy and he could not be happier. Like he's telling everyone all the time about you, and even your little accomplishments, god he loves you so much!

He will do things he doesn't want to do, if it means he gets to see a smile on your face? Like he hates christmas parties, but if you find yourself wanting to host one? He's already making a list of who's invited and what you might need. (He may even wear one of those ugly christmas sweaters for you but don't count on it.)

Physical intimacy? To him thats just even holding hands and it takes months for him to open up to you like that. But after he opens up, god hes all over you. In the mornings he's hugging you from behind. Never stops kissing you in public. He is disguting with his PDA, hes all over you all the time, and sometimes its cute and then other times your like "Simonnn stoppp" and he will... for 3 minuites-

He is so domestic when he is at home. If you need anything he is absolutely helping you. He will be your little apprentice when your cooking and everything. Sinks broken? He's fixing it. You are missing an ingredient for your food or baking stuff? He's on his way to the store to get it for you. You haven't been able to clean up the house? He's on his hands and knees scrubbing.

If you have a mental illness? He's helping in anyway he can. Even when he's away hes making sure your taking medicine if you're taking it, or reminding you about your therapist appointments. He is all over helping and doing his best to help make life easier for you even if just by a little bit.

Dating König

Literally what the fuck. He is the biggest god damn teddy bear you have ever seen. Out in public he is brooding and angry looking, but in private? He's on his knees doing anything you want him to do.

He is the biggest fan of soft touches. If you're out in public at the grocery store he's 100% rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, or just being sweet. He might brush your hair out of your face if it's in it or hindering your sight.

He will do your little routines and when I tell you it is hilarious to see this big beefy man, with a pink glittery face mask on his face, man its hilarious. When he's home he's doing your little haircare and facial care routines with you. He's oiling his hair, or putting face masks on, maybe even little cucumbers on his eyes. (of course you're taking pictures for blackmail.)

He remembers the little things about you. Sometimes when he comes back from missions he will have picked up something, or bought something that reminds him of you, or something you like. You had mentioned to him that you love forget-me-nots and you came home one day noy realizing he was home, and there was a bunch of pressed, perserved, forget-me-nots in a frame. (He ended up hugging you from behind and almost scaring you into dropping it a few seconds later but that's irrelevant)

He may not be super public about your relationship with him, but it is pretty obvious. When your out in public, he's behind you scaring the shit out of anyone who may bother you. You're his and he wants everyone to know that. Maybe you hang out with the crew one day and he has his arms slung around you, or wrapped around you in some way that screams "This is mine".

He may not actively always do things in the house, but he hovers around. He also loves to leave little things so that when he is gone you remember things that are important for you to do, he knows you have a bit of a bad memory.

Just like ghost, if you have a mental illness he is all for supporting and helping you. If you need someone to talk to he is holding you in his arms as you talk to him. He even makes sure your meds are always accessable to you, and helps in any way he can.

#könig #könig x reader #konig call of duty #konig headcanons #konig x reader #konig x you #könig modern warfare #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley comfort #cod mw2 #ghost x gn reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[chihuahuawashere]

RadioStatic

Vox has cameras /everywhere/ around all of hell but he doesn't pay attention to those. He has imps and other sinners to do that for him.

The only cameras he actually pays attention to is the cameras he put around Alastors house.

Before Alastor disappearance Vox would crash at Alastors place when he was to tired to make it all the way back to his place.

But as Alastor slept in his room Vox took the couch but as Vox was in the living room he was placing tiny tiny cameras alliii over the place. In the corner wity a cobweb, behind the books, inside of the record player, behind the sink, on top of the fridge, on top of the lights and vents, on top of the door freams /everywhere/ each and ever time Vox went to Alastors place he would add more and more cameras.

And once Vox went back home he'll watch. Never saying a word and blindly watch all of the blue screens or Alastor, never leaving the chair. Vox would be stuck in the computer room for /days/ he would foraet to eat sleep breath he would even forget his application to his job obligation.

The one room with the most cameras in it is Alastors room. Every square inch and corner in that room has cameras it was tricky to do but to Vox it was worth it. He had back up of back up of footage of Alastor sleeping and he swears it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Sometimes when he watched Alastor sleep he has an insane urge to zap through the cameras and crawl in bed with him. But then Alastor would find out and kill hilariously on the spot so he just watches.

But it wasn’t enough //everything// wasn’t enough he wants to be closer to him. Taste touch, hear, smell. He knows he can’t so he drags a mattress into the computer room with him so that every time Alastor is going to bed he’ll lay on his bed to give the illusion that he was also laying in bed with him.

Vox would never sleep he just lays there watching Alastor sleep.

That all changed of course once Alastor disappeared. That completely rocked voxs world so hard he thought he was going crazy. At first he thought all of his cameras dead in Alastors home or he thought that something was wrong with his computers but he knew //something// was wrong he needs to see him. With seeing Alastor is a world not worth seeing at all.

After literally destroying everything in the computer room he tries to book it to Alastors place to replace the cameras and also see his beautiful face and crave that itch. But the house wasn’t there. No like the town seem to swallow it hole there was no empty space anywhere it as if his home wasn’t there at all.

Vox had walked down this road and turned to that corner so many times that he can do it with his eyes closed so… where is he? What happened?? Is he hurt??? Why didn’t he say goodbye???? did I do something wrong????? WHY DIDNT HE BRING ME WITH HIM WERE A TEAM???????

After 3 months Vox made a pillow of Alastor. Vox has been around him so long that he already knows he’s measurements by heart he cut the perfect silhouette of Alastor, made his clothes from scratch when to the same shop to get the same perfume that he always use to wear and dye and cut a wig, glued on some ears and antlers.

In the dark it look exactly like him except it has no face. Everything looks real you can even get confused it in the dark as the real Alastor.

At first Val thought he was crazy for doing that but coping is a weird thing also he was in /no/ place to try and kink shame someone so he just let it be, creeped the fuck out but tie better then some sinners he’s seen.

Vel on the other hand hates this whole thing she hated Vox for liking Alastor and he’s obsession with him but after Alastor disappeared she absolutely HATED pillow Alastor even more then anything she thought she could ever hate it so creepy especially at night. One time Vox try to make Vel have conversation with it and she blew up on him calling him a creep and weirdo that he should get and LET HIM GO.

After that Vox /never/ left the computer room. He’ll have imps come on once in a while to give him food and drinks.He was so busy looking threw all of the Security cameras around hell to see if he can find Alastor again it was his soul mission at that point.

After the year 3 mark Vox bought a RoBo Frizz and tweaked and modified it to make it look more like Alastor (basically the same thing he did with the pillow) but this time he grabbed all the files of Alastor speaking and cut chopped them all together to make answers, sentences, questions if it couldn’t get any worse it helped Vox fuel his delusion even more.

And after 7 long years of looking through all those cameras the one time Val came to visit Vox in his computer room looked terrible. Pictures of Alastor everywhere with notes and drawings and other sorts of fluids with pins on them and a bunch of colored sting all pointing to random things with new paper clippings and “Xs” drawn on them.

It all looked absolutely terrible. How can someone live like this? How long has Vox even been in here? He definitely needs to go outside. Val tries to reason with him “hey man let’s just go to the kitchen yea? Or how about we go to the bathroom? how does a bath sound?” But all Vox says is that he’s “busy doing something important”

And Val got mad at him and couldn’t bite his tongue any longer and accidentally slipped that Alastor was back. But of course Val can’t keep a secret for the life of him, always having to run his mouth even if cost him his life so it was no surprise that he let it slip that Alastor was finally back Val and Vel promised one another to /never/ tell Vox that he was back otherwise only god knows Vox would react to it.

Vox completely stoped what he was doing and for the first time in forever looked away at the computer and monitors and he just *stared* but Val with a look Val has never seen before, then Vox broke out into the most creepy and unsettling smile you could ever see in hell. /OH/ Vox couldn’t be more happier then he is right now

#hazbin hotel vox #vox #alastor x vox #vox x alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #radiostatic #staticradio #voxal

[icallhimjoey]

The Boy Is Mine (icallhimjoey's edition)

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Joe has work and cancels plans but, you know what, you can just come over and help him out, can’t you? It's nerve-racking and embarrassing but, ok fine, you can come over and help him. CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, anxiety, we make fun of joe because he’s a dork, full fluff

Author’s note: i had fomo for @carolmunson’s the boy is mine writing exercise, so i just went ahead and gave it my own rpf spin. pls go and read all the other wonderful editions here!

Wordcount: 1.8K

“Okay, so, to set the scene,” Joe was being exceptionally theatrical tonight. He’d sat you down on the sofa and used the floorspace on the other side of the coffee table as his stage. It was all big arm gestures, and exaggerated faces, and big steps, and this was meant to be serious business.

It wasn’t.

You could tell Joe was a little nervous, which in turn made you a little nervous too.

You’ve had to suppress a smile ever since you walked in and couldn’t seem to stop giggling at things that usually wouldn’t even remotely tickle you, big ball of nerves.

“We’re in a trailer. Think, a big holiday park. Sort of dreary, it all looks the same, just, caravan after caravan after cara–”

“You’re talking to me like I’ve never been on holiday before.”

“Well for all I know you haven’t, Miss Workaholic. I’ve never seen you put down your work–”

You shut him up with a hit of a throw pillow to his face. Joe didn’t even flinch, just let it hit him square in the face and drop to the floor before giving you a blank stare for a second, all unimpressed.

Made you laugh. Again.

“Okay. So. Trailer park.” Joe made big eyes at you like a teacher would, directing you back to the task at hand. To why you were even there in the first place.

“Trailer park.” you repeated, sitting up a little, being a good student.

Joe frowned as his eyes had to focus on the script he was holding, turning a page and then flicking it back.

“Yes. Trailer park.” Joe confirmed absentmindedly.

He took another moment to seemingly find what he was looking for, eyes scanning before he reached up to pull his glasses from his hair. You sat pretty and waited.

Everything about the situation was objectively hilarious.

Joe had had to cancel on plans he’d made with you because of some changes in his schedule and now he had to learn lines at the speed of light meaning he couldn’t take you out for a drink. You didn’t mind – yes you did – and you’d casually said you could come over anyway. Help him out. Read lines with him.

“You’d do that?” He’d asked, carefully hopeful.

“Yea course!”

“And you’d like that?”

“As much as hanging out with you in general is a massive chore,” you’d joked. “It totally beats sitting at home by myself all night.”

And so you’d been invited over.

And now, Joe was nervous. He had just the one script, and handing it over to you meant that you’d see the little notes he’d taken. The scribbles and the arrows that pointed to more little notes, and for some parts even little sad or happy smiley faces. It would reveal a bunch of uncool shit about himself, not to mention the fact that Joe was breaking rules. None of this was meant for your eyes.

“Traiiii...” Joe was having a hard time finding what he was looking for and you started to grow impatient.

“I think we’ve got the location down.” you laughed, then suddenly your face dropped and turned faux serious. “Or, sorry, is this part of it? Of how you learn? Is that why it takes you fucking ages to–” you had to duck to the side as Joe threw the pillow you’d launched at his face earlier right back at you.

“If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem.”

Joe handed you the script, pointed from where you were going to read lines together, and then picked up a small notebook from the table.

He cleared his throat, gestured with a hand that meant, calm down, and then started the scene.

You read from the page, and Joe tried to do the scene from memory as much as he could, only occasionally glancing at look at his notes.

It took a few lines for you to actually calm down. To feel the jitters inside of your body slip away.

Joe was blushing still, though.

He’d never done this with you before, and he definitely felt silly, playing pretend with a pretty girl in his living room. But when you kind of started getting into it, found focus and fed him little words when he got stuck, it turned into actual acting.

You stayed seated on his sofa, eyes on the page, and Joe was all over the place. Pacing, using wild arms, facial expressions all over, repeating lines in different ways when they didn’t feel quite right after saying them the first time and... this was actually kind of fun.

And then props were introduced, but all wrong.

Joe needed to make a call, the script said, and he just grabbed the remote control of the TV as his pretend phone.

You stiffled a laugh, just about.

Then up next, he grabbed a nice crystal wine glass, held it out to you and it became more and more difficult to keep your giggles inside as you read ahead at what he was about to say.

“I ran out of nice cups, is this okay?”

You pretended you were handed something atrocious. Or, well, you tried to, at least. It was becoming very apparent who was the real actor in the room. When the script called for a bite of cake, something that would leave vanilla frosting on his face, Joe just perfectly mimed the action, and you were shocked at how you could see it.

There was nothing there.

But there was, though.

Wild.

Joe barely had to look at his own little notebook the longer you went, yet your stumbling and stuttering through lines increased as you read them aloud. It slowly shifted the anxiety from Joe over to you, and you didn’t like it one bit.

It felt silly, because Joe’s growing confidence didn’t have to mean that yours slowly withered, but, that was exactly what happened.

Joe noticed and in a bid to make you relax, he moved around the coffee table before sitting down on top of it, right in front of you.

“Here, take it back a little,” Joe folded a page back in the script that you were still holding, and pointed, his voice soft and gentle. “From here again.”

Joe had pointed at one of his own lines, so you kind of waited for him to start. But then he stayed silent, and when you flicked your eyes up at him, he was smiling.

“You’re holding the script. You lead.”

Oh. Yea, okay.

You went through the same bit of a scene again, this time with your knees touching his. Joe spoke in a much calmer voice, much lower this time around. The vibe shifted and now, it had you blushing.

Fucking adorable, Joe thought.

It made him want to grab hold of your face as you read. Press kisses all over your cheeks. The bridge of your nose. Your eyes.

There was not a chance in hell that Joe was going to actually get all his work done tonight, but if he was being honest, you’d already managed to do more than he’d expected beforehand.

You fucked up a line and went, “Wait, no... jesus,” and took a second to start over. When it was Joe’s turn to speak, he stayed silent again, and it made you look up at him, only to see him stare at you with the most lovesick grin you’d ever seen.

Disgusting. How dared he.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You knocked one of his knees with yours.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” Joe said, not changing a single thing about the way he was staring at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him and had to try really hard to hide a smile.

“Are you... are you getting off on me not being very good at this?”

Joe laughed, said, “No, you’re amazing actually.” before he leant in a little, clearly going in for a kiss.

It had you moving back.

“Um...” you held a hand up before you jokingly scanned the page in front of you. Turned it to check the next one too. “There’s no kissing in this scene.”

“Um...” Joe copied you, and was quick to take the script from your hands, turning it around so he could get a look himself. “Yea there is, actually. Look.” Joe pointed at a random line, and before you could even get a proper look, he’d already flung it to the side and lurched forward to get his lips on yours.

You shrieked into it, trying to kiss Joe back just as much as you were trying to push him away.

Joe laughed, and so did you, and you were just pressing smiles together for a second, giggling right into Joe’s cackles. He had to hold your face in both of his hands to keep you close.

“Maybe,” you murmured around kisses, “This wasn’t the best idea. I’m clearly not helping.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true.”

Joe kissed you harder.

“Liar.”

“I’m not a liar.” Joe sat back and made a face. Looked like a real douchebag as he scrunched his eyebrows together and smirked. “I’m an actor.”

You laughed as Joe reached to pick up the script he’d thrown to the other side of the sofa. Folded the pages back and handed it back over to you.

“Okay. So.” he got up, clapped his hands together and walked back over to his spot in front of the TV, notebook now discarded on the sofa. He was going to try without it. “We’re in a trailer.”

You smiled at him as you watched him try his best to get back into the zone.

“Trailerpark.” you confirmed, trying your best to match Joe’s vibe.

Serious business.

You frowned as you started again, but you were quickly stopped.

“Wait, sorry. Wait. Just, I’ve got to... hang on,” Joe planted a knee onto the coffee table and leant all the way forward. His hands found both your knees and he moved until he got to steal one last quick kiss.

Okay, two.

Three.

Quick, a fourth. Maybe a fifth.

“Joe,” you giggled.

“What?” a sixth.

“I’m here to help you work!”

“Well, then,” seven. “Stop being so fucking cute!”

Joe got a few more in. An eight, ninth and a tenth, before he scrambled back up onto his feet.

Joe took a second to smile at you before he cleared his throat. “Right. Trailerpark.”

You smiled right back.

“Trailerpark.” the end

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #the boy is mine

[ayyy-pee]

𝐓𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Day 2: Face Fucking

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Profanity bc who do you think I am, Pussy Eating, Face Riding, Face Fucking, DID NOT PROOFREAD SO SORRY FOR ERRORS LMFAO

Summary: Satoru puts his mouth to good use for once.

You may be over Satoru, but Satoru is not and will never be over you. 

❥ Gojo NSFW Week Twitter - AO3 Collection ❥

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because I don’t wanna do the mission. If I win, you gotta do it for me.”

“Satoru…” You groan, exasperated. “Are you really that lazy?”

Your boyfriend grins up at you. “Not lazy, but taking care of a Grade 2 curse sounds like a fucking drag and honestly, it’s a waste of my time.” He folds his hands behind his head, yawning loudly. 

“This is such a stupid bet,” you grumble and Satoru laughs.

“You’re always so tense. Either way, you literally come out on top, so really I’m doing you a favor.”

You cock your head to the side in annoyance, folding your arms over your chest as you glare down at your boyfriend. You wish you could see his eyes through that stupid blindfold he’s always wearing. You’re sure they’re positively glowing with mirth.

Your mind replays the events of earlier today and how you’d ended up in such a compromising position. 

- - - - - -

It should have been a day like any other. You’d teach your classes, maybe take the students on a mission, let them do their thing. Then you’d find Satoru at the end of the day to go home together. But when you’d bumped into your boyfriend coming out of Principal Yaga’s office with a sour look on his face, jaw tight with irritation, you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks to ask what was wrong. 

Your mistake.

“How would you like to gain some experience and maybe earn points with Yaga for a promotion,” Satoru proposed after explaining the situation. His wide, toothy grin shone brightly as he awaited your answer, which came the moment he’d finished asking.

“No.”

“Babe, come onnnnnn,” he whines, grabbing your hands. “Please, it’s an easy mission!”

“Then you do it!”

“I don’t wannaaaaaa.”

“God, Satoru, why are you literally the strongest and laziest person I’ve ever known?” You roll your eyes, pulling your hands from his grip to place them on your hips. Satoru pouts, and you’re grateful you can’t see those baby blues or you may have given in right then. His eyes were his greatest strength when it came to you, and not because of the power he held in them.

“Oh, I’m the strongest lazy person, but Suguru literally quit because he didn’t wanna do missions,” he grumbles under his breath. He crosses his arms over his chest. Satoru stands there, staring you down until you think you can quite literally see the bulb ding above his head. “Okay okay, wait. I have an idea.”

Your eyes narrow, looking your boyfriend up and down suspiciously. You have no idea what he could be up to, but you’re curious, if not a little scared.

“It’s just a bet,” he says as if that’s going to make you feel better. He must see the look of concern on your face because he scrambles to keep talking. “It’s just something we were probably gonna do anyway, but now we can make it a little more exciting.” He holds both his hands up in the air, wiggling his fingers and giggling to himself as though he’s just said the most hilarious thing. 

You’re still waiting for the punchline.

“What is it…” You ask warily…and you regret it immediately when Satoru leans down and brushes his soft lips against the shell of your ear, whispering.

“Let’s make a bet. When we get home, I want you to sit on my face. If I can make you cum in ten minutes or less, you take the mission for me.”

A tingle races up your spine, a slow warmth uncurling low in your belly. You’ve never done that with Satoru before. The thought fills you with excitement. Your lips curl with a smirk and you whisper back, a challenge in your voice. “And if you can’t?”

“Then I guess I’ll do the mission, but something tells me I won’t have to worry about that.” He nips your earlobe, grinning when you yelp. You shove his shoulder, effectively pushing him back. You try to resist smiling when you realize he has his infinity off for you. He always has it off for you. Only you. Such a romantic.

You could always go home and fuck Satoru until the sun comes up like it’s a normal Tuesday night. Or, you could take him up on his offer…and make him suffer a little in the process.

Satoru closes the distance between you and loops his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. “So? Do we have a deal?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close enough to whisper against his lips, “Take us home.”

It’s instant. Space and time bend violently around you and Satoru covers your eyes, holding you tightly against his chest as he warps you both home.

- - - - - -

Now here you are, naked and straddling Satoru’s chest, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about what’s to happen next. Your eyes dart down to Satoru’s phone on the bedside table, the big fat 10:00 timer blinking brightly on the screen. All you have to do is not let him win. You don’t want the mission anymore than he does and he needs to learn he can’t just dump all of his responsibilities on other people. 

Satoru clears his throat, pulling you from your straying thoughts. “As much as I’m absolutely loving the view from down here, we don’t have much time before one of us…” he points only to you, “...has to be on this mission.” You purse your lips, the uneasiness you just felt quickly dissipating. Satoru’s hands find purchase on your waist, gently squeezing. “Look, if you’re worried you’ll smother me to death –” 

“Tempting,” you interrupt, grinning with Satoru frowns.

“Anywayyyy, if you’re worried you’ll smother me to death, don’t worry about it. I’m the strongest.”

You stare blankly at him while he stares amusedly back at you. You’ve heard enough. You scoot forward, your bare cunt hovering over Satoru’s face for a moment before you effectively shut him up, dropping your core right on to his lips. A muffled yelp can be heard from deep between your thighs, Satoru shifting beneath you to try and get comfortable. 

“Clock starts now,” you sing, leaning over quickly to tap the timer on his phone to start. The seconds tick down rapidly, Satoru just as eager as he groans into your center. His hands wrap around your thighs, spreading them further apart for him. His tongue grazes your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud over and over.

You try to stay focused, try to stare straight ahead at the damn headboard because you don’t want to give Satoru the satisfaction of being able to brag that he won. But it just feels too damn good, the way he works his tongue through your folds, how he kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, how he groans into your cunt, clearly enjoying himself.

Satoru gives your pussy one long, broad lick and groans. Your eyes fluttering closed and your head falling back. You bite your lip just as his tongue thrusts between your folds, sucking, licking and biting. Your thighs shake as you struggle to keep your hips from slamming down into Satoru’s face but god it feels so fucking good.

Satoru has always been…gifted in the bedroom. There’s very little he’s not good at and it’s showing now as Satoru’s hands graze along your thighs, around to your ass where his nails dig into your ass cheeks. He pulls you forward, urging you to move.

You roll your hips forward when Satoru gives your ass one last smack. He sucks on your clit, humming as his lips wrap around the bundle of nerves and the sudden choked sob that leaves your lips catches you off guard. 

“Fuck! Satoru, right there. Don’t stop!” You moan, your fingers reaching down to tangle into your boyfriend’s hair. 

Satoru doesn’t stop. He does it again and again until you’re a panting mess atop of him. He grunts into your core, squeezing your ass before smacking it hard. A strangled cry rushes past your lips. Your thighs tremble on either side of Satoru’s head and he chuckles, smacking your other ass cheek and relishing in the way your legs shake again.

Your hips rock back and forth along his tongue, Satoru’s fingers digging into the meat of your ass to push and pull you along his face. He wants you to go faster, go harder, ride his face until you drown him in your cum.

God, he knows what the fuck he’s doing with that annoying mouth of his. You were an idiot for agreeing to his bet because you can already feel the heat pooling in your core as the band inside your belly threatens to snap at any moment.

Satoru’s loving this, you can tell by the needy groans and breathy whines escaping him as he buries himself as deep into your cunt as he can go. It’s so filthy, the way his tongue laps at your core, tasting and relishing every last drop you have to offer. 

You’re panting, leaning forward now to grip the headboard. Satoru stops suddenly, reaching up and pulling his blindfold off of his face to reveal his eyes. He knows exactly what that does to you, that you’ll fall apart in those beautiful orbs that hold all the power of the universe in them. Satoru looks just as beautiful between your thighs, snowy locks spread wildly, his mouth wet with your slick. He kisses your thighs, trailing soft touches all the way up to your center, leaving a gentle peck to your core. Satoru smirks when you roll your hips forward at the contact, then he trails soft kisses back down your other thigh. 

His hands squeeze your ass softly just as Satoru pushes his tongue between your folds again and runs his tongue flat up your core.

“So good, Satoru. Fuck, that’s so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, voice muffled as he buries his face in your cunt again, licking and sucking your clit while you’re grinding your own hips down on him, pace harder and faster than before. You nod, the only sounds heard being the hushed moans that grow gradually louder as you grind your hips down against Satoru’s face and the lewd slurping of Satoru’s mouth as he laps at your slick cunt.

With one hand, Satoru spreads one of your cheeks. With the other, he easily slips two fingers into your drenched cunt. “Shitttttt,” Satoru moans into your pussy when he feels your pussy clamp down on him. He curls his fingers sharply, smirking when he feels your thighs immediately begin to quiver around his head. You’re so close. There’s no way you’ll make it much longer. “Need your cum, baby. I wanna taste it. I need it.”

You don’t even get a chance to answer him. His fucking phone alarm blares on the table next to the bed, effectively stopping his actions and your orgasm. 

“Fuck.” You lean over and tap the phone, Satoru’s fingers idly pumping into you. You take your position with shit eating grin on your flushed face. “Guess I won –”

Satoru pulls you back to sit on his face, tongue darting out to lap at your soaked pussy.

“Don’t give a fuck about the bet. Need to make you cum,” he mutters into your core, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt. Your mouth falls open with a silent moan as Satoru wastes no time bringing you to the most earth shattering release of your life.

#jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #anime x reader #anime smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x geto #satoru gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou x reader #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #GojoNSFWWeek2023

[callsign-bunnie]

I love your crack hcs, do u have more?

Oh boy, do I

--

Rodolfo can throw knives. Not as well as Ghost, but he can throw them decently.

Alejandro can catch knives. They both learned when they were children doing exactly what you think they were.

Everyone finds out Alejandro can catch knives when Ghost throws one at him when startled and Alejandro just catches it on instinct

Gaz has a hello kitty bucket hat. He got it as a joke for Price and got attached to it

Gaz and Alex are trying to hide their relationship. (Price already knows because any time Soap gets in trouble, he throws Gaz under the bus by telling him about it. Price figures 'eh, they're going through all this trouble' and pretends.)

Alejandro is not afraid of Ghost. They've become friends and Ale's seen Ghost be a total fucking dork about random dumb things and he's just not afraid of him, though he tries

Price is fairly pretentious about the difference between a fishing hat and a bucket hat

Gaz doesn't care and will buy him more bucket hats, regardless

Laswell considers Alex the same as Price considers Gaz and will yell at Price for being mean to Alex

She will also shove that 6' motherfucker behind her when defending him and Alex thinks it's fucking hilarious

Valeria will call the base and just say "Alejandro's a bitch" and hang up. Twice a week.

They don't know how she keeps getting his extension because he keeps changing it

She's careful to listen to make sure it's Alejandro answering, too, because she's gotten Rodolfo a few times and deeply regretted it

Farah is usually a levelheaded person.

Alex can get her to do stupid shit by going "it's only because you think I'll do it better."

They have -Stolen a wild assortment of animals -Put Price's bucket hat on a goat and would only talk to it when wanting to refer to Price -Played 100 with a hand grenade -Played soccer with a brick -Blown up so many things -Alex took his leg off and Farah bound her leg so she could only hop and then they raced (Alex won and Farah cussed him out)

Look, she didn't really get to be a dumb teenager and her best friend is fixing that. Malika and Gaz aren't the most happy about it but neither are going to exactly stop them

Graves will randomly show up in other parts of the base, show everyone that he's out, and then return to his cell

Alejandro is sick of everyone in his fucking base, GO HOME

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Rodolfo Parra #Alejandro Vargas #John Price #Kyle Gaz Garrick #Phillip Graves #Valeria Garza #Farah Karim #Malika COD #Alex Keller #Kate Laswell #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare II #Call of Duty #Gary Roach Sanderson #headcanons #queue for dinner again hunny?

[mewje4ns]

How to chess? - Spencer Reid

Playing chess with Spencer Reid. The catch is… you don’t know how the fuck to play chess.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

masterlist

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Knock Knock

The sound of my fist sound against Spencer door after I got a text from him saying ‘my house. ASAP.’ I obviously panicked thinking the worst, so now I stand in front of his door in an oversized shirt and sleeping shorts. Spencer door opens to find a wide smile boy. “Sweets!” His hand grabs mine and drags me into his home. “Look what I got.” It was a chessboard. A chessboard?

“A chessboard?” I turn to Spencer and give him the most confused look he’s probably ever received. “That’s what I needed to come over ASAP for?”

“A hand carved chessboard.” Spencer cheeses at me with his hand’s fidgeting in front of him. “Four hundred dollar-”

“Four hundred bucks!” I turn to the boy with my jaw on the floor. “They have these at Target for like 20 bucks Spencer!” He shakes his head and laughs.

“It’s black walnut and sugar maple wood.” He’s fingers tap each other as he stares at the board. “The pieces themselves are incredible. Look at them!” The boy is the happiest I have ever seen him as he grabs my hand and pulls it toward the board then pulls one of the pieces up to show me in detail.

“They are beautiful Spence.” I smile at him and he sits down on his coffee table and motions for me to sit across from him.

“Wanna play?” Spencer cheeses once again and I can’t say no. So I sit across from him and smile nervously. “You’re nervous? Why?” His face scrunches up in genuine confusion.

“I’ve never played chess Spencer.” I give the boy an ‘sorry I’m an idiot’ smile and shrug. “I’m not exactly smart enough to pay attention in this game.”

Spencer smile widens, if that’s even possible. “I’ll teach you.” He leans his head on his shoulders and it tilts as he takes in my face. Those stupid beautiful eyes dance around my features as if he’s memorising each eyelash or flaw. Not that he would ever call them that. “I’ll go easy on you, promise.”

I stick my pinky out and give him a pointed look. “Promise?” He wraps his thumb around mine and nods. “Then okay.” Spencer’s eyes practically light up, like the ambers of a fire floating into the sky. Warm and fuzzy feelings fill my stomach making my hands sweaty. “Don’t get to excited. I’m definitely not a worthy competitor of the glorious Spencer Reid.” I bow down to him while mutter ‘my lord.’

“Okay, these are pawns.” His slim finger points to the knobby looking ones. “Rook,” the castle. “bishops,” the fancier knobby one’s, “knights,” horse “king,” crown “and finally queen,” pointy crown. He smiles at me and I nod in confirmation that I understood what he said.

“The pawn can move two spaces forward if they’ve never moved. They can move diagonally capture other pieces and if they reach the opposite side of the board they can become other pieces like a queen, knight, bishop, or rook.”

“Rook can only move in straight lines.” Simple enough. “Bishops can only move diagonally and the two pieces are always placed on opposite square colors.” I nod and watch his face light up as he explains the game. “Knight can only move in ‘L’s. Like this.” He grabs the horse head and moves it over one spot and up two. “But they can move back unlike the pawns. Same with pretty much every piece.” I hum in understand and he puts the head back in its spot.

“Queens are the most powerful piece.” He picks up the queen piece but is cut off by my god awful joke.

“Girl power.” I raise my fist up and immediately after the joke is blurted out of my mouth I shake my head and throw my hand back into my lap. Spencer thought this joke was hilarious. “Sorry.”

“No, no you are totally right. Girl power.” He snorts, he can’t even try to hide his laughter. “She can move all directs. Diagonally and vertical. The king can only move any which way by one place. The whole point of the game is to corner the king in a way that makes it impossible for him to move without getting caught.”

“Checkmate?” I look at him with furrowed brows as I try to absorb all of his words.

“Yes, checkmate.” His praise lit up my body. I understood chess and Spencer was proud of me? I’m dying a happy woman. “Good job sweets.” I tried to ignore the heat building in my chest but he was just so… ugh. There’s no word in the dictionary to describe the man in front of me. He’s perfect yes, but he’s more than that too. He’s everything. Spencer makes my heart bear and slow down. He makes me hot while being as refreshing as a cold glass of water. His symmetrical smile and stupid face. “Let’s play.”

The game begins, he moves a piece and I try to counter it. Not even 7 minutes later he says “checkmate.” My jaw drops as I study the board.

“What the hell?” I look up at the boy who smiles at me. His eyes scrunch with the smile, my favorite smile of his. “I didn’t even- how did you- Spencer I thought you said you were going to go easy?” He smirks and shrugs.

“I was. You’re just bad.” I shake my head and then he offers a bet. “Loser has to do whatever the other wants.” I nod immediately. “Okay if I win you have to… write ‘Lost to Reid’ on your forehead.”

“Okay if I win, you have to kiss me.” Spencer pauses and the nods with his cheeks flushed pink. He’s only agreeing because he knows I’ll lose.

The second game begins. This one is longer at 24 minutes. “Checkmate?”

“It is checkmate, yes.” Spencer smiles at me. “You won sweets.”

“I won?” I look up at Spence confused. “I win?” Spencer nods and laughs. How did I-

“Guess I gotta pay my side of the deal.” Before I can comprehend what’s going on Spencer pushes his $400 chessboard to the side nearly knocking it off the table and leans over it. His hands grab my face and pull me up to meet him halfway over the table to kiss him. His lips are soft, softer than I had expected from him. His fingers hold my jaw as his head tilts to kiss me deeper. “Good job Sweets.”

“You let me win.” He smiles and watches my face before nodding.

“I let you win.” He kisses me again, his hands slide down toward my neck and pulls me up closer while a quiet groan in the back of his throat. “Needed to lose, I mean I won in a different area.” He smirks a stupid smug smirk that has me pouting at him.

“You fucker.” I shake my head at him. “I thought you were just gonna go easy not cheat.”

“I did go easy, so easy that I set you up for success.” He smiles at me, a stupidly beautiful smile. “Can we kiss more or do I have to lose to you again?”

“We don’t have to play to kiss.”

“Good.” Spencer’s eyes sparkle more than when he was talking about the chessboard.

“Good.”

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