#'shit he'd only wear if he had a partner'

[hoshigray]

random thought, but like Gojo getting a little handsy while the two of you are out together with your friends.

a/n: yeahhhhh I have no excuse, this literally just popped up in my head two days ago, just read lol

cw: Gojo x fem! reader - nothing too sexual, but very suggestive, so minors stay away!! - fingering (f! receiving) - sexual acts in a public area; in a café - other people present but they don't know what's going on - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Gojo putting you through hell but you get your getback :3 - you may [or may not] feel second-hand embarrassment, we shall see.

wc: 1k

"...Then I turned to him and said, 'I know you don't think I'm going to have sex with you after you've done thrown up on my dress.'"

"Nooo, after the dress was how much—"

"Right!! So I nicely shoved him off me and called an Uber to..."

It was a pleasant sunny hour to spend with your friends at a local café not too far away, mingling and catching up with them from the last meetup. It was always a splendid time having moments like this with them.

But what made this time a lot more striking was you bringing your boyfriend over! After many weeks of your friends wanting to meet the guy — not to mention him bugging you about also wanting to see your close buds — you promised to have him tag along for the next in-person meetup. And, low and behold, your partner, Satoru Gojo, wasted no time having your mates attracted to his sociable charisma.

Not that you'd think he'd be out of place — if anything, you knew he'd be able to swoon into their sweet graces. With his dashing smile, alluring sky-blue eyes, and engaging conversations, it was only a matter of seconds before the white-haired man could take your spot and engage with your pals. Shit, it's practically happening right now as you sip on your iced tea while he's listening to one of them reminiscing about a terrible night they had last night.

Nevertheless, you're not complaining. A boyfriend who gets along with your friends is better than not, right? That's why you watch and listen to your friend's story with a smile, happy to know that combining two parts of your world results in new companionships.

That is, until, you feel someone's hand land on your thigh. At first, you paid no mind to the action since it's nothing you're not familiar with when it comes to Gojo. But then that exact hand ventures further down and slowly sneaks past your skirt. Your brows furrow with your inner thoughts. I know this man is not trying to start something right now...And when you feel his slender fingers brush your inner thigh, you get your answer.

Your lips release the straw to your iced beverage, and you slowly lean toward your boyfriend. "Gojo," your tone hushed only for him to hear as your companions seemed preoccupied with a talk of their own.

"Hmm?" The tall other leans a bit for his ears to properly hear your whispers, his face still facing front to your friends.

"Can I ask why your hand is up my skirt in public?" You knew by the playful snicker rumbling his chest that his answer would be far from appropriate for the situation.

"Whaaat~, can't touch the love of my life?" He whispers back to you.

"Can't if we're out in the open at a fricken' café," you hiss with a glare from your peripheral. "Especially with others within—Hmmm." Before you could finish that remark, two fingers brushed on your panties, rubbing gently between your clothed folds. He snickers — both at your stifled response and as a faux reaction to a part of your friend's storytelling.

"Sorry, but I can't help myself when I wanna touch my princess." You notice him peeking at you from behind his dark shades. His fingers form a curling motion, causing your body to slightly jerk and prompt your legs to a further spread. He brings his chin down to your ears, his chuckles easier to interpret their mischievous connotation. "Plus, when did I last see you wear that skirt? Had my eyes on it since you looked at the mirror before we left."

God, I hate his ass so fucking much. "Who said I was wearing it for you?" You retort, wanting nothing but to wipe that dumb smirk off his handsome face. "I wore it because of—Ohhh!!" To your surprise, he swiftly puts his digits inside your panties; the sudden warm contact on the folds of your chasm prompts a sneaky cry.

...A cry so sudden that, of course, your friends stop talking to look in your direction with perplexed expressions. Of course, they would look. Oh, for fuck's sake...

"Uhhh, you okay, Y/n?" One friend blinks while surveying your body language. The other chimes in. "Yeah, you don't look so good; ice tea went the wrong way?"

Quick with your feet, you cough up your answer. "Ahem—Y-Yeah, I'm fine, guys. I was just thinking, ya know," your hand snakes down to Gojo's to pinch the skin, the tall other jolting his hand away from you. And you know he looks to you with pain, yet serves him right. "Since you two are getting along with Gojo, why don't we take him to the mall and show him our favorite spots? He has a good eye on clothes, plus I'm sure he'd like to try the crepe stand in the food court."

The look on your buddies' faces expressed nothing but delight at the idea you pulled out your ass. "That's a great plan, I'm down!" One says while the other nods frantically. "You up for that, Gojo?"

Rubbing his pinched skin, Gojo sends the two a smile. "Sure! I'd love to spend more time with my baby and their friends." He then leans to kiss you, but with a kick to the shin, you turned his face from a lovestruck fool to that of a hurt puppy. Your friends watch as the snow-haired man quivers and puts his forehead on your shoulder for support.

"Hmm? What happened?"

"Don't mind him; he was rocking his chair and probably hit himself with one of the legs." You speak for him as you watch your boyfriend tremble in pain with a smirk on your lips, the two others giggling at your seemingly clumsy man. It's your turn now to whisper to his ear. "That's for that little stunt of yours."

Gojo's laughter seethes through gritted teeth. "Are you really my angel? You're such a meanie...Don't think I won't do it again, princess."

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk thirsts #jjk drabbles #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo thirst #satoru gojo x you #gojo x y/n

[takami-takami]

Like Animals.

kinktober day 4: sex pollen.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut

warnings— afab!reader. dubcon (sex pollen/heats, but both have been pining like idiots). breeding if you squint.

keigo's beloved crush sidekick gets hit with the unluckiest quirk possible. he quickly discovers his rut suppressants ain't shit.

Through all the horrors and adverse life events Keigo has endured in this line of work— brutal near-assassinations, negotiations with international crime syndicates, purchasing sugar-free canned coffee with Splenda substitute by mistake before his morning shift— he has always been able to find a silver lining in the darkest of moments. 

Which makes it infinitely more concerning that for the first time in his life, he nearly whines through his teeth the words, "why me?" 

A palm drags once down his face, thumb and index finger pulling down his darkened eye bags. His hand collects the beads of sweat and stops to rest over his mouth. 

He supposes this must be his penance for taking a risk and trusting faulty intel. 

Keigo's informant told him the villain he and his darling sidekick were meeting would have a limited-ranged fire quirk, so the diligent hero stuffed ointment and cold packs in his pockets before leaving just in case. 

If he had known the villain was a plant heteromorph and possessed a heat-inducing mist quirk instead, and that the person he was hopelessly in love with had a bit of a crush on would be caught in the direct line of fire? 

He would have brought a paper bag to hyperventilate into instead. And some prayer beads. The god to which the prayer is delivered doesn't necessarily matter, he thinks. He'd simply pick one and drop to his knees in a bid for mercy.

"I'm taking you to a medic," Keigo puts his foot down for the fourth time this evening. 

"Fuck no," you groan from the couch, shifting to squeeze your thighs together. It offers not even a modicum of relief from the incessant throb. "Do you want my cause of death to be humiliation? Is that your plan, genius? 'S bad enough as it is that you're here." 

The subtext is unspoken, but clear to him through your adorable pout: I only trust you to see me like this.

It's unlucky that the man you've had the most innapropriate-for-work crush on for the better part of two years happened to be the one beside you that day. And it's just your sorry luck, you lament, that Keigo would also be the one to catch you, to fly you home cradled in his painfully capable arms, to refuse to leave your side and insist on making his favorite chicken soup for you in a desperate flail of support. 

He'd respect your decision and leave, should you ask him to. You know that. And yet the humbling truth gnaws at your pride: doing so wouldn't do much to save your image at this point. He’s already seen you like this, you grumble. The proverbial cat has long since escaped the bag, waltzing its way over to rub its purring body against Keigo’s leg to your abject horror.

If you close your eyes, you can attempt to trick your brain into thinking this affliction is a flu of some kind. 

Yes, this is just some common cold. You're wearing nothing but your work partner's shirt (your clothes were contaminated by the quirk's dust, Keigo explained, speaking in that strict work mode voice that makes you picture your mouth stuffed and drooling somewhere beneath his desk and between his spread legs). You pull the damned fabric down over your core as you try your hardest to not writhe in fits of pleasure underneath the blankets, rubbing your thighs together for any friction against your swollen clit.

All symptoms of an affliction of the flu, of course. 

You don't need to reach down and touch to know the slick would string those thighs together, should you attempt to pull them apart. 

Keigo knows that, too. But he doesn't say anything about it. 

You would be mortified if you were aware of the truth. 

That he knows everything.

Keigo knows exactly how you ache; like you're constantly on the precipice of an orgasm, perpetually ablaze from the heavy heat scorching your body from its surface to the boiling core. 

You try to suppress your glee as he spoon feeds you the broth, reminding yourself that this is just what good friends do for each other.

Friends coo praises at each other when they swallow, friends tilt each other's chins up with one finger and mutter things like that’s a good dove and you can take another as they watch their throat bob in tandem. 

Friends shiver from their wingtips down their spine when they pull the spoon back. They let their gaze linger for just a second on those lips that open wide, aching to touch.

Ever the gentleman, Keigo stays lowered to his haunches and places one hand over your forehead to check for a fever, redirecting his focus toward taking inventory of your vitals. He doesn't wince when he hears your moan at the contact, even though the pitiful sound pings at his weak points. His avian instincts remind him he needs to protect you, please you, take care of you; to make it go away, to fix that feeling he knows better than anyone is aching like a bruise between your thighs. 

He doesn't allow his eyes to wander astray or trail their way downwards, especially when you're in such a vulnerable state; but his professional assessment is that if he could only wet his appetite, the flat of his tongue alone could— 

He shakes his head and blows a puff to cool the soup, raising another spoonful to your lips. 

"Here. Another. You need to keep your energy up," he reminds you, voice stern. It's nearly clinical and achieves the opposite of its desired effect.

Your heart rate picks up to thump at a steady, thrumming beat at the innocuous gesture of domesticity. 

How have you never noticed how capable of a mate Keigo would be…? He’s all musculature and sincerity, sharp ridges at his knuckles and soft curves at the small of his waist where he only trusts you to touch.

You huff an involuntary moan. 

He picks another god to praise that the couch you're laying on obscures his lower half. 

Today, Keigo discovers his suppressants are only designed to reduce the chance of a rut being triggered. It brings the possibility of it starting in the first place to a comfortable near-zero, allowing him to carry out the spring and fall seasons as if he were entirely quirkless.

But if that rut passes through the blockers' biochemistry in, say, the event Keigo's luck rears its ugly head, for example… It does fuck all to reduce the actual symptoms. 

More importantly than his own anguish, however, is this: his mate work partner got hurt because of him— hurt being a stretch, he'd know if he weren't overthinking so much, given the blissed out panting just two feet away from him; but you’re probably suffering and it's all his fault. It’s all because of an unlucky, once in a lifetime slip up from Keigo Takami himself, and he can't detangle himself from the guilt.

If drowning in the unexpected whirlpool that is his first rut in half a decade is his penance for the crime, then Keigo will hang his head and take it.

The huff he lets out is your last straw.

"I'm going to my room," you state, moving to leave like you left the stove on and are trying to avoid an upcoming house fire.

When his hand darts out to stop you, the touch against your shoulder sends shockwaves down your stomach.

He's touching you. He's taking such good care of you, feeding you, providing for you in his nest and now he's touching you?

It sends your hormones into overdrive. 

You'd do well to conceal it, if his heightened instincts couldn't smell your desperation. 

"I'm afraid it ain't that easy, dove," he warns, eye contact averted. "I'd avoid doing that, if I were you." 

Keigo schools his expression, but not before you catch a flash of something hungry. 

There's no chance in hell he's letting you out of his sight. Not like this. You're confined to the couch while he keeps an eye on you. Attempting to fix it yourself will only make the feeling unfathomably worse, something he tries to communicate to you with a look that only ends up making him look like a kicked puppy.

You squint right back when you process the implication of his words, eyes raking down his form in suspicion. 

"How do you know all this, anyway," you ask.

Keigo goes silent, hand concealing his mouth. 

Ah, it hits you. 

Bird things.

Your head falls back against one of the numerous pillows your partner propped up behind you.

"The couch is soft," you murmur, situating yourself against the cushions and throw blankets he so carefully arranged. You trail your fingertips along a silk pillow. Keigo slams his eyes shut.

"Please don't say it like that." 

"Why not?" Your lids droop, heat overtaking your better judgement. Tentatively, you play along the bounds. You allow your hands to run along the soft divots of the blanket covering your body, squeezing your chest and pinching the peaks. "It's like a little nest, isn't it?" 

His hand drags down his face before pinching his nose bridge, suppressing a whine. "Baby, please—" 

"You don't wanna join me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just the heat," Keigo tells himself more than you. "For the love of God, dove, stop talking—"

"But it hurts, Kei'." It’s a low blow, judging by the protective coo that escapes his lips. 

Fed up, he leans forward and swings his right leg over your hip, crawling atop you as if his body has a mind of its own, utterly bogged by desire and yanked like puppet strings.

With him kneeling tall above you, the bodysuit of his hero costume hides absolutely nothing. The musculature is quite impressive, actually. Proof of his viability as a mate— all dominant and masculine and gorgeous.

And at this angle, you can see the most painful erection straining against his pants. 

"I need you, Kei'. I need— mmph!" 

A palm silences you; slapped down, hot, imposing, and heavy like a weight against your mouth. 

The authority of the action makes your cunt clench; and Keigo would die before he lets that feeling go to waste, so his hips drop down to grind once against it. 

Your eyes go wide, doughy and stunned, darting down in haste, following the trail of his thick bicep up toward the disciplinary scowl on his face. 

His nostrils flare with the heaving in his chest, eyes screwed shut with his last slivers of patience holding its grip on his psyche.

"One more word," he says, pulling his hand away. "One more word and I'm ripping this blanket off and fucking you raw." 

After a moment of silence, you speak.

"Please." 

Keigo is wordless when he unbuckles his belt and lets it— and his inhibitions— drop with a satisfying clink.

The reality of what you've gotten yourself into comes crashing down as it hits you how utterly fucked you are. The scaffolding of years of sexual tension comes crumbling down like bricks to rubble, a city of restraint reduced to pure, animalistic desire. 

Years of Keigo's eyes darting away when you nonchalantly change into your uniform in front of him, even though he never seemed bothered by any of his other peers doing the same; years of you both curling in on yourselves at the furthest edges of the bed you had to share, cramped close in those under-the-radar motels on stealth missions; years of the words "idiot, can I kiss you," held back by your lips as you watch him moan when he sinks his teeth into his comfort restaurant's chicken teriyaki every stupid Friday night, sitting cross-legged and at home on the carpet of your apartment floor. 

Not a single word is exchanged as he pulls his cock free from its confines, nearly too thick for his fingers to meet when they wrap around it. He tosses the blanket to the side with haste, dragging your shirt (his shirt) up to your collar, exposing your chest when he lines his cock with your entrance. 

"Please, Kei'," you sniffle. "Hurts." 

"Oh, I know, baby... I know." His lips are pursed when he shushes you, tracing your cheek with his palm. "I'll make it go away."

When your lips meet, it's like static electricity; and it's entirely remorseless.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans against your mouth, dragging his length along your sticky thighs before plopping the thick of it atop your soaked cunt. 

"So wet for me," he reveres, dragging the plump tip through your mess to get it slick enough to rub against your clit. 

Your rutting hips buck with impatience in an attempt to glide his length against your swollen pussy, but that only serves to fuel his desire; and those desperate little whines only feed into his insatiable need to fuck, to breed you until you're silent. 

Until you shut the fuck up. 

Those pathetic little sounds are music to his ears, a siren's song that used to play only in his most shameful fantasies; the ones that kept his fist tight around his cock the moment he returned home after missions, the sight of you panting and spitting blood after battle with a smile on your face still fresh in his memory. 

Keigo wants to hear you moan. 

But his rut needs to fuck you wordless with satisfaction. 

"Oh, fuck," he hitches, shifting his hips back and forth to the tune of the audible shlicks below. Unable to stay upright any longer, his chest falls flush into yours in a rut-afflicted haze, rutting against you like animals. 

When he slips his cock inside, it's with a kiss to muffle his voice.

And he wastes no time setting a punishing pace, aided nicely by the slickness that coats the sides of his cock. The legs of the couch surely must be scraping indents into the floorboards, judging by the creaks that mingle with the sounds of his belt buckle at every thrust. You'd notice if either of you were lucid enough to care. 

It's a brief consideration of a possibility of an afterthought, like a sheepish voice behind a roaring crowd. 

Pulling out, that is. 

Yeah, if he were a stronger man, he could probably will his hips to stall. There's a chance someone far stronger than him would hiss when he does it. His cock would weep in denial of that sweet, velvet entanglement, dripping out in the cold when he fists himself to completion mere inches away from what might as well be the center of his goddamn universe.

But when it comes to you, when it comes to his rut, Keigo is not a strong man.

He allows his cock to throb in the vice of your cunt, instead.

"God, baby," he moans into your neck, wings flapping once, twice with each thrust, shedding a few feathers before straightening out and grazing the ceiling behind his back. "Baby. Oh, baby. You're so tight. You're so— fuck!"

He's babbling, but so are you. Legs hooked across the small of his back, you bump your hips as best you can to aid in his efforts; and with your last shreds of lucidity, you decide for the both of you how things will end. 

With watery lashes, you open your eyes enough to blink away some tears and clear your vision just enough. Your gaze crawls up his legs that are still clothed to the thighs, peeking over the curvature of his ass and up his shuddering spine— all to mark onto your scarlet red prize.

When you entangle your fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings, it shoots straight to his cock and he spills.

With eyes wide open and a strangled choke at the back of his throat, Keigo's hips stutter when he empties himself. With every throb comes another rope from the tip, sticky and excessive from the rut, mixing with your wetness as you crash over the edge soon after.

When the ringing in your ears ceases and you finally come to, it's to the sight of your now probably-more-than-a-work-partner pulling out and staring between your legs as if under a trance, eyes glimmering.

"Kei', you okay?"

"Uh huh," he answers absentmindedly, utterly transfixed on the mess he made. 

It's strange, he thinks. Whatever urges his rut transcribed into cravings, every instinct that tugged at the avian etched in his DNA and called him to fill you pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having indulged himself at last.

His eyes flick back to meet yours.

"Does this mean I can kiss you at work now?" 

You snort. So that's where his mind goes in the end.

"It means a whole lot more than that," you say, rolling you both over so he lands square on his back.

#sorry i made jesus canon in this fic. I had to have him say it. Okay bye! #i know his quirk doesnt work like that its not an animal quirk but shhhhhh im having fun #🖋 writing #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha thirst #mha x reader #bnha thirst #smut #x reader

[mypoisonedvine]

NEED to read zemo/bucky/reader and I feel like you would nail it!!!! maybe with 98?? LOVE YOU J.D!!!!!!!!

oh my god I haven't written a threesome in SO LONG and of course this turned into a whole oneshot UGH. oops

98: "what happens next in your fantasy?"

warnings: smut (18+ ONLY!!!), threesome, oral m and f receiving, spitroast, overstimulation, hair pulling, slapping, degradation and praise, brief mention of smoking?, basically just nastiness with almost no plot at all!!

word count: 4.4k

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

"I shouldn't have said anything, okay?" you whined, hoping he'd drop the subject-- and Zemo walked in right then, which seemed like the perfect opportunity to change the topic.

"What shouldn't you have said?" Zemo pressed, and you sighed.

"It's-- it's nothing," you shook your head, "I just had a really weird dream last night."

"About?"

You wanted to end it there, but Bucky had to chime in, of course. "Let's just say, this dusty old apartment was getting to see some action for the first time in a few decades," he informed Zemo proudly, who smiled knowingly and continued his walk to the kitchen.

"Ah," Zemo nodded, "I see."

"I swear, I've never had a dream about you like that before," you explained to Bucky.

"I wouldn't take it too personally, James," Zemo suggested as he poured himself some tea. "The subconscious is a completely unpredictable place. We can dream about almost anything, whether or not we desire it in waking life."

"Well, see, that's the weird part," you admitted, shifting nervously in the chair as Bucky stared at you. "You were there, too."

That took his attention away from the tea, certainly; he set down the kettle and came back into the sitting area, leaving his cup behind. "Still, many people believe dreams have meaning... I happen to be one of those people," he added.

"You didn't mention that before," Bucky frowned at you.

"Well, I was going to..."

"I was there, doing what?" Zemo pressed.

"Sitting in the corner reading Machiavelli," you joked. "No, you were, you know... part of it..."

"How was it?" Zemo asked instantly, getting yours and Bucky's eyes on him then.

"Huh?"

"In the dream, having both of us," he clarified, "did you enjoy the experience?"

"U-um, I mean, I don't really remember..." you coughed.

"I don't think that's true," Zemo grinned. "You're wearing it on your face now— is that why you couldn't look at me this morning in the hallway?"

Your face got warmer. "Do I normally look at you?" you deflected.

"More than you realize," he answered cryptically.

"So, it was good," Bucky assumed. "It's obvious, you can just admit it."

You did hesitate, biting on one of your nails, but you nodded, and they both smiled. "Yeah, it was... it was really good..."

"Which one of us was better?" Bucky wondered. "It was me, right?"

"You were... I don't know, you were just different," you shrugged.

"Ugh, that's such a cop-out," Bucky rolled his eyes. "Don't be afraid to hurt his feelings."

"No, really— it's hard to compare," you insisted. "You were sort of, you know, sensitive and... patient, and you—" you looked at Zemo— "were kind of... intense."

Zemo smirked. "I've been told that before, actually. I mean, by people who got the real experience."

Bucky looked with a concerned expression over his shoulder at Zemo. You found yourself biting your lip for a moment.

"I know you won't answer this question, but I have to ask," Zemo began, "did you climax?"

"Oh god," you whined, hiding your face behind your hands.

"See? She did," Zemo smiled, maybe wider than you'd ever seen. "Perhaps even more than once."

"Please shut up," you groaned.

"Holy shit," Bucky smirked, "you really liked it, huh?

"What do you say, James?" Zemo prompted, looking at Bucky, and making you get a little wide-eyed. "Shouldn't we give the girl what she wants?

"Isn't that, uh— I mean, wouldn't that be... weird?" Bucky stammered, cheeks flushing.

"You're so sheltered," Zemo mocked with a small laugh. "Sharing a partner is very thrilling when the correct amount of trust is involved."

"Wait, wait— it was just a dream, I wasn't, you know, suggesting it," you explained nervously.

"I know," Zemo replied, "I am."

There was a tense pause, where all you could hear was your own beating heart.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Zemo offered, “I know it’s a strange thing to say.  Just come here, darling.”

Though your legs were shaking, you got up off the chair and approached him slowly.  He met you in the middle, reaching up to quickly caress your jaw when you were close enough.  Bucky seemed to watch the whole thing in disbelief.  “I-I’ve never—” you began.

“It’s alright,” Zemo assured you softly, “I won’t judge you, or mock you— there’s nothing wrong with what you want.”

You nodded slightly, another form of silent permission, and he leaned in to kiss you— gentle at first, but strong enough to make your knees feel a little weak.  He deepened it quickly, putting a hand at your waist as his tongue began to tease your lips… but just when you pressed into him, ready for more, he pulled away.  He smirked at the way you leaned forward for a moment, but then he looked over at Bucky— you couldn’t quite read his expression, perhaps a bit of disbelief and… more than a decent share of arousal.

He stood up, and stepped up to you two, and you could tell he was in over his head— but you pulled him closer by his shirt, sighing as your hand felt his chest through the black fabric.  “I— I’m not sure how to—” he mumbled.

“Me either,” you smiled, “just kiss me, Bucky…”

He did, though he seemed slightly less confident about it.  What started as a shy and soft kiss turned into something more almost instantly— something hungry.  He pulled you closer by your waist, he slipped his tongue into your mouth; it was clear, somehow, that he had been waiting for this chance for longer than you realized.

You gasped into Bucky’s kiss when you felt Zemo’s lips on your neck.  There were four hands on you, running over your body, and you were struggling to keep track of which belonged to who…

Zemo pulled you off of Bucky and spun you around, kissing you roughly again.  He was less careful this time, and he was reaching up under your shirt as well; you whimpered a bit, arching your back instinctively and pushing your ass into Bucky’s— oh fuck, he was hard.  You couldn’t believe how worked up you were already.

Zemo groped at your chest, purring as he tweaked a nipple between his fingers.  You whined and pressed your legs together, feeling him smile before he broke away to look at you with a sparkle in his eye.

“So sensitive,” he praised as he pushed your shirt up to get a good look at you; he sighed at the sight, both hands cupping your breasts and massaging them carefully.  “You’re so beautiful…”

When his hands moved down, Bucky’s took their place; you shivered a little at the metal hand’s cool touch, but it was actually more of a relief than anything considering how hot you’d become.  He was a little more aggressive with the way he touched your tits— if not quite rough.  He was panting in your ear as he held and rubbed them; and Zemo was already pulling your pajama shorts down, exposing you even further… god, why did it turn you on so much.

“Look at you,” Zemo praised with a sigh, running his hands up and down your body.  “I know you must be so wet already, darling, look how desperate you are… you’ve been wet since you woke up from that naughty dream, haven’t you?”

You didn’t have to answer— he was already putting his hand between your legs, exploring your folds, both of you groaning at how slick and sticky you were.  “Fuck, I can hear it,” Bucky noticed, and you clenched inside as he said it.

Zemo gently pushed a finger into you— but you were so wet it didn’t even feel like a push, it felt like your hole just sucked him in.  He was looking right into your eyes as he did it, but that was a little too much to handle for you, mentally, so you let your eyes fall shut just before he slipped the finger back out again.

"Feel inside her, James," Zemo encouraged, "she's so warm."

Bucky sighed, rubbing his fingers around your entrance. "I-I'm going to," he mumbled in your ear, "but... not 'cause he told me to or anything."

You whined when two vibranium fingers pushed inside you, making you lean back against Bucky while Zemo’s hands pushed your shirt up even higher, giving him better access to put his mouth on your tits.  “F-fuck,” you sighed, putting a hand on the back of Zemo’s head as he swirled his tongue around your nipple— he was incredibly, annoyingly good at that, but then again, so was Bucky with the way he gently opened you up with his fingers.  “Oh my god, just like that,” you panted.

“Who are you talking to?” Bucky wondered.

“Both of you,” you whined, “fuck, don’t stop.”

Zemo moved his mouth to your other nipple, suckling harder at it, making your hips rock on Bucky’s fingers; and Bucky growled approvingly, starting to thrust them a little more confidently inside you.  “I can’t believe you didn’t soak through those shorts, doll,” Bucky whispered in your ear, “you’re drenched.  You wanted this that bad?”

You could only nod dreamily, too lost in the feeling.

Though you weren’t sure how they coordinated it, they both stopped touching you at the same time; you whined quietly, clenching inside as you longed for either of their fingers to fill you again.

“Take the rest of it off,” Zemo instructed you— but it wasn’t too firm, more just a… friendly suggestion.  “Let us see all of you.”

Stepping out of your shorts that had fallen to the floor and pulling your shirt up over your head, you tried to fight the urge to cover yourself— after all, here you were naked in Zemo’s living room, with two fully clothed men eyeing you up and down.  It was hard not to feel… scrutinized.

"What happens next in your fantasy?" Zemo purred.

"I-it's not my fantasy, it was just a dream," you insisted.

"Then let me ask you another way: what happens now?"

Instead of answering with words, you simply sank down to your knees in front of them, keeping eye contact with Zemo as you started to open his belt.

The smug look on his face should’ve driven you crazy, but it only pushed you further; Bucky, thankfully, seemed to get the idea of what was going on and began to open his belt and jeans for you.  You loved his eagerness, even if the way Zemo seemed content to just let you do all the work was a turn-on, too.

Soon enough, there were two hard cocks in front of you.  Just the idea of that was already intimidating— but both of them, at eye-level, was actually nearly overwhelming.  You took hold of them both, stroking slowly to try to wrap your head around this as easily as you could wrap your hands around them.

Not sure where to start, you did a mental coin toss and found yourself leaning towards Zemo first, wrapping your mouth around his tip and letting your eyes fall shut.  Zemo hummed, pushing your hair back as you bobbed your head. You only sucked him for a few seconds before switching over to Bucky, though you tried to keep a hand stroking each one while you moved back and forth.

It felt filthy and strange and surreal, but your biggest concern was that you were going to get so wet you’d start dripping onto the floor or something.

Yes, you’d watched porn like this before, but you never really thought you’d end up doing it— especially with these two.  You felt pretty comfortable assuming they never thought this would happen, either… but they got into it shockingly quickly: soon, you weren’t even the one deciding where you went, they simply got more and more impatient and began to guide you back and forth.  You blinked your eyes open a few times to look up at them, but in the end you found yourself totally lost in it, just leaving your mouth open them and letting them take turns fucking it until you weren’t sure who was who anymore.

Not much was said (least of all by you, with your mouth full) aside from a few mumbled curses here and there— except for one moment, where Zemo seemed to mutter to Bucky: “I don’t think she expected to like this so much.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.  You were drooling, with tears striping your face— a side effect from repeatedly choking on both of them— and you were nearly desperate enough to rub yourself

Though you weren’t sure how or when Zemo had gotten in your head like this, you had to admit it was convenient right now; “You want more, don’t you?” he noticed, and all you had to do was nod before they pulled you up to your feet.  Zemo bent you over quickly, before you’d even really found your balance, and stood behind you.

You gasped as Zemo’s cock slid inside you suddenly, holding on tight to Bucky’s arms for balance— immediately you were rocked forward with hard, needy thrusts.  

“God, she’s so fucking wet,” Zemo hissed.  You hadn’t really heard him talk quite like that before…

You groaned at the feeling, amazed at how easily he fit inside, but clearly all the anticipation had prepared you well.  Bucky only let you have a second to adjust before he shoved your head back down and pushed his cock into your waiting mouth.  You were happy to oblige, though, and sucked him even more eagerly than before with fast bobs of your head and more pressure from your tongue.

Bucky’s fingers tangled into your hair, and his hips pushed forward to fuck deeper into your throat; you heard him groan, but it was muffled as he bit his lip.  You gagged, and they both moaned lowly.  “I can feel when you choke on him,” Zemo informed you with a grunt, “your little cunt squeezes me tighter.”

It must have been Zemo’s hand that slid up your spine and held onto your shoulder— it must have been Bucky that reached down to feel your tits— but if was your hand that ended up between your legs, rubbing your clit quickly simply because you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

“So desperate,” Zemo mocked— or praised, maybe?  The difference was hard to define.  “You want to come?”

You hummed in agreement around Bucky’s cock, before he forced you to choke on it again.  You never expected him to be so aggressive, nor how much it would make you crave even more.

“If you want a turn with her, James, you’d better take it now,” Zemo offered, voice thin as he tried to catch his breath.  “Any more of that and I won’t be able to stop myself again.”

Bucky roughly pulled you off of Zemo and sat back on the couch, turning you around to face away from him and pulling you into his own lap; that doll nickname felt a bit more literal when he tossed you around so easily.

You gasped as Bucky slid inside, and moaned as you realized you could so easily feel the difference between them.  “Fuck!” you cried out loudly, louder than you really meant to, as Bucky instantly began bouncing you on top of him; you were trying to move with him, but he was so much stronger and basically just using you however he wanted… it made you moan even more and roll your eyes back in your head as you realized that.  “Fuck, Bucky, oh my god—”

“See how much louder she screams for me?” Bucky grinned.

“That’s because her mouth isn’t full this time,” Zemo countered with a laugh.  “That can be corrected.”

Bucky was certainly much more… impatient in the way he fucked you; Zemo, meanwhile, was as controlled as ever as he guided you to lean forward, gently opened your mouth, and slid just his leaking head inside.  He purred as you suckled at the tip, looking up at him with watering eyes.

“Can you taste yourself?” Zemo asked you with a smile, humming when you nodded around him.  “You really soaked me, darling— I expect you to be a good girl and clean all that off.”

You moaned at the praise and took him deeper into your mouth, using your tongue to lick up every drop of your own wetness off of him.  You surprised even yourself with how shameless you were, pulling your mouth off to run your tongue over him instead, moaning as you licked him clean.

Bucky fucked up faster into you until you could barely focus on the task before you, but you still found a way: you kept Zemo’s cock in your mouth and let him hold your head, keeping you steady while Bucky moaned louder and thrusted harder.

You moaned more and more around Zemo until he pulled you away and you gasped instantly.  “Tell me how it feels,” he demanded harshly, holding your head up by your hair.

“So good,” you yelped, “it’s so fucking good!”

He surprised you with a slap across the face, but you moaned right away.  “Fucking whore,” he spat.  “Look how badly you need to be treated.  You want to come, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, “yes, fuck, please—”

“Well, James,” Zemo hissed, “aren’t you going to help her?”

Bucky sighed and moved one of the hands on your hips down between your legs, rubbing you quickly and harshly.  Your thighs were shaking instantly; actually, pretty much all of you was shaking.

“She’s coming, James, don’t stop,” Zemo barked out another order, holding you tight by the jaw and looking right into your eyes.  “I want you to come until you can’t possibly take it anymore,” he explained with a growl, “don’t tell me to make him stop until then, is that clear?  Show us how much you can take, nothing less.”

You nodded as best you could with him holding onto your face, and tried to lean in to put your mouth on his cock again, but he held you there.

“No,” he corrected, “I’d rather get a good look at this.”

Bucky’s hand on your clit was relentless, the pressure almost too intense for you to take— but you had to take it, you had no other choice.  It started off almost slowly, a gradual descent into the numbing pleasure of your orgasm, but it didn’t stop; Zemo already made it clear he wasn’t going to let it stop until you were at your limit.  Your moans were shaky and broken from how hard Bucky was fucking you, and your eyes were rolling back already but you could’ve sworn you heard Zemo chuckle at the sight of you.  Did you really look that fucked up?

“Good girl,” he purred, “keep going.  You can take more.”

You whined louder, higher, sharper; you weren’t sure how much more you really could take of this, but you wanted to do as you’d been told and not tap out until the absolute last second.

You knew you were crying, only because you felt the hot tears running down your cheeks.  You heard Zemo encouraging you distantly, but you couldn’t quite make out any words, just the dark and sweet tone of his voice.  You heard Bucky, too, groaning deeply while you felt his fingers digging tighter into your hips.  Could he feel everything he was putting your body through?

“Fuck, stop!” you heard yourself blurt out, and instantly Bucky’s hand moved away— but his thrusts didn’t slow down.  It was just the right amount of relief, and you blinked the blurriness out of your vision.  It was almost like part of it didn’t even really hit you until then, until the aftershocks reverberated through your body.

“That’s it,” Zemo praised, “you’re alright, we’ve got you.”

“Oh god, o-oh god,” you sobbed, shaking uncontrollably— they were both holding you up, you would’ve toppled to the floor if it weren’t for them

“Fuck, m’gonna come,” Bucky groaned.

“Inside,” you gasped, even with how little mental clarity you had in that moment.  “I want it inside.”

“Fuck,” he said again.  “That’s so— god, baby, look what you fuckin’ do to me… I’m gonna come inside you.”

“Yes,” you begged with a sob, Zemo grinning as he watched you.  

Still numb and clenching uncontrollably inside, you felt the way he pumped harder and harder and harder— until it slowed down and he let out the most delicious, long groan.  You whined, but smiled, as he loosened his grip on your hips and relaxed under you, his moans and heavy breaths seeming to drip with satisfaction.  “Fuck,” he said, one more time, deeper than ever, before falling back on the couch limply.

Zemo lifted you off of Bucky— apparently a little sooner than he was ready for, because you heard him hiss as he slipped out of you— and guided you with him onto the couch, pulling your back into his chest.  He knelt behind you, kissing the back of your shoulder as watched you try to come back to reality.

“I should let you rest for a moment,” he noticed, “but you don’t want me to, do you?”

Weakly, you shook your head.

He moved in closer to you and you felt his cock, still wet with your spit, rub against the inside of your thigh— and even after all that, you arched your back deeper in invitation.

It made you blush when Zemo slid into you again, thinking about him filling you alongside Bucky’s load, especially with the way he groaned lowly into your ear.  “You want me to fuck his come even deeper into you?” he taunted, and you whined but nodded.  “I thought so.”

Everything felt so… sticky, in a disgusting but sexy sort of way; you were overly-sensitive inside, each thrust feeling so good with the fading sensitivity of your orgasm still present.  You leaned back against Zemo with a sigh, letting him hold you close and fuck you however he wanted, more than happy to just be his toy now.

“Look how cute you are when you give in to me.  You want me to use you, don’t you?” he noticed with a groan, and you whimpered but nodded ‘yes.’  “Of course,” he growled, kissing along your neck with more and more of his teeth each time.  “You want me to fuck you however I want?”

“Yes,” you sobbed.

“But this isn’t about what I want,” he explained.  “This is what you wanted.”

“Oh god…”

“You wanted us both to fuck you, at the same time.  One cock isn’t enough to satisfy you?” 

“Not anymore,” you admitted with a sigh, and he started to thrust faster and harder into you.

It turned very quickly from slow and sensual to rough and ruthless; he wrapped a hand around your neck to keep you close as you moaned and cried, anxious already to come again.  “Touch yourself,” he ordered with a hiss in your ear, “make yourself come around my cock.”

“F-fuck,” you choked out, but slid a hand over your body and between your legs to obey him quickly.  You were already so fucking close, and you knew you shouldn’t go so hard on yourself when you were so sensitive, but your desperation made you really rub hard and fast in search of that growing tension.  “Yes, fuck, m’gonna— oh god—”

“I know, darling,” he cooed, “just let go.  It’s alright, I’ll hold you— come for me.”

You didn’t literally black out, but you did sort of… lose time, in that moment.  It was like you were just floating in pleasure for a while and then all of a sudden you were laying back on the couch and you weren’t even sure where Bucky had gone and Zemo was proudly holding your legs open.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he informed you, and you blinked back at him shyly.

You expected the warm, sticky feeling as their come leaked out of you… what you didn’t expect to feel was Zemo’s mouth on your pussy, eagerly lapping it up and sucking on your clit as your eyes shot open and you gasped and moaned with surprise.

“Dude,” Bucky grimaced, “that’s fucked up…”

Zemo just hummed and took his mouth off of you, giving Bucky a confused look.  “She tastes amazing,” Zemo defended, “maybe even better after our… contribution.”

You laughed a little at the description, until he leaned down and latched onto you again, making you gasp and run your fingers through his hair.  “Fuck,” you whined, bucking your hips against his face.  Your clit was already overstimulated, and the way that he flicked it with his tongue made you shiver all over.  

Your hold on his hair made it a little easier to push him away when he sucked too hard on your sore clit; he was more than strong enough to keep going, but he stopped anyways and let you push him back with a smug, slickened smile.  “You really should try it, James,” he encouraged, “you’ll only want more once you do.”

Sighing in relent, Bucky knelt down in front of the couch— yes, at some point he’d gotten off of it, and you were too high on orgasm dopamine to notice it— and Zemo helped you adjust your hips towards him so he could just dive right in.

He gave one long lick over you first, making you shudder, and seemed to get more excited and aggressive quickly as he held onto your thighs and started to push his tongue inside you.  “Oh god,” you whimpered, and Zemo watched proudly for a moment before turning his head to kiss up your leg.

“Poor thing,” he cooed between gentle presses of his lips to your skin, “you probably thought we were done with you, didn’t you?”

~

You were on the couch nursing a cup of tea, your feet resting in Bucky’s lap on top of the pants he’d changed into after his shower; Zemo was on the balcony having a cigarette.  That was the scene Sam came back to, and he seemed to notice something was off just by the way he raised an eyebrow as he entered the living room.  “Hey guys,” he greeted.  “What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Bucky shrugged, “just a pretty quiet morning…”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #bucky x zemo x reader #bucky x reader x zemo

[samgelina-jolie]

It all started a week ago. Steve had come along to The Hideout, decked in his darkest polo shirt. It was the first gig he'd come to since him and Eddie had officially- as Robin put it- 'got their shit together'.

Steve had met the band plenty of times already, and while they'd been pretty standoffish at first, he liked to think he got along with them pretty well. Jeff actually shared a similar taste in music (even admitting to liking ABBA because it reminded him of his mother) and he'd known enough about Star Wars and a mix of Dustin's interests to win over Seth. It was harder to read Gareth, but Steve had assumed they were at least acquaintances.

That was until Steve had walked up to the bar where Gareth was talking to some girl, and then Gareth had said the meanest thing imaginable.

"He's my buddy's boyfriend."

Eddie hadn't seen what the big deal was. But Steve understood the importance of befriending your partner's best friend.

Well, back in high school, Steve had never really bothered with his girlfriend's friends. He'd focused on putting in effort with the girls he found attractive, wooing them with flowers and gifts. The girls who he wanted to like him did, he didn't really care how much the other girls didn't. The only job the best friend really had in his mind was picking up the pieces after he left those girls in the dust.

That was all before Nancy, of course. She'd been so adamant about him making an impression on Barb, so he'd tried. He invited her to parties, kept Carol and Tommy off her back, even tried to back her up once or twice when Barb and Nancy were bickering.

And it worked out... kind of. Barb had still rolled her eyes whenever Steve opened his mouth, but she was also the one who pulled him aside and saved him a whole lot of embarrassment and heartache.

"I'm telling you this because I would want to know, and because I guess you're not the worst person in the world. Nancy has been hanging out with Jonathan a lot lately... I just think maybe you should pay a bit more attention to it."

But besides him and Nancy as a couple not working out, he'd realised how important being on good terms with the person you're dating's friends is to being a good boyfriend. Which is why it was integral that he became proper friends with Eddie's best friend.

--

"What are you wearing?"

Steve had just walked into the Munson trailer. He'd spent nearly an hour trying to perfect his hair, so he's mildly offended that his outfit is the first thing his boyfriend noticed. Steve glanced down at his shirt with the huge Green Day logo printed onto it. He wasn't sure why Eddie looked so appalled, it wasn't dirty or anything.

"Oh, Gareth let me borrow it. Cute right?" Eddie's nose scrunched up even further, full on glaring at the offensive item.

"I can't let you into my room with that shirt on."

"Well hopefully once we get to your room neither of us will have our shirts on" Steve chuckled, leaning in for a kiss but Eddie turned his head.

"I'm serious, big boy. The polos and tight jeans, you're whole hot preppy look actually, that all really does it for me and you know it. But this?" He pulled at the fabric of the shirt. "This is the one piece of clothing I never want to see you in."

Steve scoffed. Eddie pushed him gently away with a shake of his head.

"I'm turning off the benefits."

"What benefits?"

"The sex benefits, no more sex until you admit you're not a Green Day fan and we burn that shirt."

"Eddie this is my in with Gareth! He's finally starting to warm up to me." Steve whined. "Besides, you can't just, like, turn off us having sex!"

"Oh yes I can. All I have to do is think about you in this abominable outfit and my boner just-" He whistles, imitating his finger deflating. Steve pouted. He knew rationally he could just give Gareth back the shirt, but that would mean embarrassingly admitting he didn't like Green Day to Gareth and then trying to find another in with him.

So no, Eddie was just being unreasonable.

Anyway, he was totally bluffing about the sex. Steve hoped.

--

"It's been five days Robin! I mean, we haven't gone that long without having sex since.. since we started having sex!" Steve cried, following the woman around as she restocked the shelves. Even though he couldn't see her face he could tell she was rolling her eyes.

It was a serious situation though, at least in Steve's opinion. He and Eddie hung out all the time, and while he obviously enjoyed doing other things with his boyfriend, he wished the other man would at least have the decency to not be so sexy while performing daily tasks. Steve had been this close to jumping him in the frozen food section of the grocery store yesterday.

And he knew he wasn't the only desperate one, Eddie was suffering too. Obviously he'd assumed Steve would cave after a day, because he'd been all jumpy and grouchy for nearly a week. And he kept making that face that Steve recognised all too well whenever Steve did anything even slightly suggestive. Like when he'd bent down to put his laundry in the dryer, and when he turned back around Eddie was beet red and avoiding eye contact.

"Have you tried breaking out the old Harrington seduction techniques yet?" Robin shrugged, obviously not bothered by the fact her best friend was on the verge of death due to lack-of-sex-with-his-really-hot-boyfriend disease.

The thing was, he had tried his old methods. He tried wearing tighter shirts, that strained around his arms and showed off his midriff (but always making sure he was wearing some kind of Green Day memorabilia, because damn him if he wasn't going to be right about this). He'd invited Eddie along to his and Lucas' basketball game. He even tried straight up begging, knowing how much that usually gets Eddie worked up.

And nothing!

Although, there was still one move he hadn't tried yet...

--

"You want to what?" Eddie shot him an incredulous look.

"Help you study, of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't help you with your problems? Besides I have this really neat method to help you revise." Steve let himself into the trailer and Eddie's room. He wasn't wearing a Green Day shirt today, but he did have a wristband, something he knew Eddie had spotted already as he walked into the room with his arms crossed.

"Right. And what method would this be?"

"Every time you get an answer right, I take off a item of clothing, and vice versa." Steve plopped himself down on the unmade bed, which he'd missed dearly. Eddie hadn't even let them take naps together in his room, insisting 'spooning almost always leads to sex with you'.

Eddie considered his offer carefully, before nodding with a shit eating grin. Steve cheered internally.

"Great!" Steve smiled before adding "Your rings all count as one item by the way." He tried not to look too smug at the way Eddie's confident grin faltered.

The game reached its boiling point very quick. Eddie had known more about Geography then Steve had expected, which reflected in the fact he only had his boxers and one sock left on. Eddie, however, wasn't doing too much better, sat in only his jeans (and Steve suspected no underwear underneath).

He's not sure who kissed who first, but suddenly Steve was pressed against the mattress, Eddie's thigh between his legs. Excitement coursed through him, his body so receptive to Eddie's touch after so long he wasn't even embarrassed at the noises he was letting out. His hips bucked up, causing Eddie to groan into his mouth.

"So the Green Day thing?" Eddie mumbled between kisses down Steve's neck. The noise Steve made was loud and high pitched, almost drowning out the man's next words. "It's over then?"

Steve paused, the hand that had been trailing down his boyfriend's chest pushed firmly against him as he pulled away.

"Over because you've let it go, right?" He mumbled. Eddie pulled back, his lips red and glossy.

"No, over because you let it go?" Steve huffed, sitting up and pulling his clothes back on. He tugged his jeans on in annoyance, storming out of the bedroom.

"You know what, I'm turning off the benefits now! No sex until you admit Green Day are better than... than Dio!" Steve yelled. He was irritated and extremely worked up but he was also incredibly stubborn. He heard a squawk of protest from behind him as he made his way outside.

"That wasn't even the rule!" Eddie called out, but Steve ignored him. He was not loosing this fight.

--

Listen, Metal music was fine, Steve endured listening to it with Eddie like he endured watching sports games with Steve. He was content in the knowledge that not loving every single one of each other's interest didn't mean they didn't love each other.

Punk was fine too, it still wasn't Steve's thing really, but it was okay and while Steve couldn't tell the difference, according to Gareth there was one. A huge one, if the way he'd been ranting about it for the past hour was anything to go by.

But between fighting with his boyfriend (because it was a genuine fight at this point), not having any sex for nearly two weeks, and being stuck listening to someone talk about something you have no interest in for hours, Steve couldn't take it anymore.

"I don't like punk music! I listen to Queen and Cyndi Lauper and sometimes Madonna and happy music that I can dance to without thinking about America's political landscape!" He blurted out. Gareth stopped his rambling about how Rob Harper was a better drummer than Pete Something, flashing Steve a confused expression.

"Then why were you pretending to?" He asked.

"I... I just didn't want you to just see me as 'Eddie's boyfriend'. I wanted to be your friend and Jeff told me you like punk music so I brought it up and..."

"Look, you are Eddie's boyfriend. Yeah, you're an okay dude, but I can acknowledge that without us having to do the whole friendship thing too, you know?" Gareth shrugged. Steve deflated.

"Right." He said, quickly making an excuse and leaving. Gareth shrugged off the weird feeling the guy's sad puppy dog eyed had given him, grabbing Steve's fries.

He felt kind of embarrassed that he'd been talking for ages with someone who didn't even care. He supposed it was nice of Steve to make the effort, Gareth wasn't aware he'd been trying so hard honestly. Jeff and Seth had warmed up to him pretty quickly but he thought that was just because they were just softies that were no immune to the 'Harrington Charm'.

"Steve?!" A loud yell startled him out of his thoughts.

Eddie stormed into the bar, wearing- holy shit, Gareth felt like he must have hit his head and started hallucinating. This day had taken such a weird turn, because there Eddie Munson stood before him decked out in a 'I heart Green Day' shirt. He also looked like it was taking every ounce of self control not to rip it off his body like it burned.

"Finally come around on the punk scene, Munson?" Gareth chortled. Eddie threw a fry at his face.

"Shut your trap, I need to find Steve before one of the gremlins sees me in this, they're too impressionable." He muttered, taking a seat as he looked around the bar.

"If this is a Steve thing you can stop anyway man, he admitted he doesn't really like them that much. It's kind of weird I mean, who lies about being into something to get someone to like them?"

"Dude, I spent the whole summer eating ice cream as a lactose intolerant person because Steve worked at Scoops Ahoy. He was just trying to find something for you to be friends about." Eddie shot him an unimpressed look, which Gareth thought was a bit high-and-mighty considering he just admitted to basically poisoning himself on a weekly basis for a guy he'd thought was straight at the time.

"Why exactly?"

"I don't know, Steve likes being close to people? He's basically besties with his ex girlfriend, man. Why are you so adamant he can't be yours?" Gareth considered this.

He remembered when Eddie had first told the band he was dating Steve Harrington. They'd all thought he was kidding, but there he was at their next rehearsal, cheering them on and spending his breaks holding Eddie's hand.

Gareth thought maybe it was a joke to Steve. Messing with the guy who likes men by making him think he has a shot with the former prom king. He thought it would end with Eddie in tears, and that had probably made him a bit more defensive than he needed to be. Maybe there was a small part of him, no matter how great Steve seemed, that still believed the guy was setting his best friend up for heartbreak.

"Look, I get that you might have reservations about him. But all I'm saying is- and I've got about a dozen preschoolers and multiple full grown adults that would back me up- Steve Harrington is a pretty great friend to have. So if he offers you friendship, you should take it." Eddie snatched a handful of fries as he got up, leaving Gareth alone at the bar.

--

Steve was half way out the door, wearing nothing but Eddie's Dio vest and grey sweatpants when he saw Eddie. He was standing in front of him, eyeing Steve like a starved man presented with a stake. Steve guessed he probably had a similar look, smiling at the Green Day shirt the man was wearing.

"Oh my god take your pants off." Eddie basically growled, slamming the front door to Steve's house shut as he stalked towards him. He pulled Steve into a ferocious kiss, hands quickly travelling down to his ass.

"Leave the shirt on." Steve gasped out. Eddie let out a muffled groan into his neck. They ran to the bedroom, loosing the vest and both of their pants on the way.

--

"Steve? You home, man?" Gareth heard a loud noise inside, followed by hopping, then Steve opened the door slightly. He was sweaty and shirtless, and his hair was a mess. He'd probably just been working out or whatever jocks did in their spare time.

"Listen, I'm sorry about what I said at the bar. You're a cool guy, I'd like for us to be friends, really. I even thought of something we could bond over; haircare. I've actually been meaning to ask you for some tips anyway." He admitted. Steve beamed, Gareth was almost scared the incredibly sweaty man was about to pull him into a hug. He didn't, he just kept smiling.

"That's real nice for you two, maybe next he'll ask you to prom!" Eddie's voice rang out from somewhere behind the door. Steve flushed a little and hushed him. Gareth was kind of confused as to why Eddie voice sounded so coarse and breathless, he didn't think Eddie had ever voluntarily exercised in his life.

"I would really like that, Gareth. I'll tell you everything you need to know, come by anytime. Except right now." He smiled again before slamming the door. Gareth heard more noises inside, wondering what the fuck they were up to until he heard a loud moan. Oh God, Gareth started running.

Still, he couldn't help but smile. It was always nice to make more friends.

#happy very late valentines day! theres still and hour left for me so #its not really romantic i guess but idk #inspired by an episode of new girl #i dont know why i picked green day im not a big punk music person like at all it's probably blaringly obvious but #i couldn't think of a title #stranger things #au #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things gareth #gareth #steddie #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steve/eddie #stranger things fic #steddie fic #steddie au #show: stranger things #ch: steve harrington #ch: eddie munson #ship: steve/eddie #dynamic: eddie/steve #ship: steddie #my writing

[simp4konig]

König jealous of your dog headcannons

Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: Definitely more than 2😎 🗿Honest to God i have no idea whay the word count is 🤦🏼‍♀️These were mewnt to be short headcannons yet as PER USUAL i got carried away 🤡🤡not abt to copynpaste every single paragraph individually into a word counter

*Slow burn

*Established relationship with König

*⚠️Google Translate German!!⚠️ (sorry guys ...💔)

*Not requested 😋😋 just something that's been on my mind.

*Pls dont worru about rqs guys!!😨 Writing two of tjem atm but I jus wanted to post this first (so my profile isnt as barren as the Sahara desert🏜️while i work at a pace that is slower than that of a turtle 🐢)! :)

*Also how tf do people make their bullet points look so good??? is it a formatting thing or sum cuz im ACTUALLT crippled 😰😰

...

König really didn't want to be jealous of your dog. He didn't.

He hadn't anticipated he would ever feel that way, especially towards a dog, of all things.

Despite not being the type to be jealous — at least, not from his perspective; he was only looking out for his darling! — his eyes would narrow whenever a soldier would approach you, being far too handsy with a stranger. His partner. It made his blood boil.

Sure, König would always stare down whoever made the mistake of flirting with you or introducing themselves with playful banter while behind you. Clearing his throat, a tense hand was placed gently yet firmly on your shoulder.

"Hör auf, mit meinem Schatz zu reden, sonst breche ich dir das Genick."

Not understanding a word of what he said, they would cower in fear nonetheless, getting the message with how he'd had spat that sentence and the venom in his voice. Glancing at their wrist despite wearing no watch, they'd insist that they were running out of time and literally run away.

When you'd look up at him in confusion, König looked back down at you innocently, paraphrasing that he had simply said you were taken.

A facepalm from you. "God, König..." you'd groan, unable to stop the silly smirk from stretching itself on your face. "You nearly made that guy shit himself. Please don't do that again."

König would likewise always straighten himself to his full height and cast a menacing shadow at the dummkopf who dared speak poorly of you.

Once they'd mumble rushed apologies and speed-walk away, you'd see him glowing with an adoring expression in his eyes, a complete 180° to the death stare he shot at the recruit and the hand gesture he made at his throat seconds before.

König would always rest a large hand on your lower back to guide you in crowds, keeping you close beside him to further drive in the point that you were strictly off limits.

Really though, he wasn't jealous. Not in the slightest!

He rationalised his behaviour as looking out for you. In no way was he being overbearing or overly territorial; if anything, people were pushing your already established boundaries and he was reminding people of them! He wasn't jealous at all, no.

Behind closed doors, however, he'd be quieter than usual and have a vulnerable look in his eyes, desperate for your reassurance and to hear you say that you loved him.

Deep down, he was insecure.

That good-looking man didn't make you swoon, did he? Why were you laughing so hard at his joke? He wanted to have made you laugh like that. You still loved him, though, didn't you? You wouldn't want to be with anyone else, right? Right?

It wasn't that König didn't trust you. Although this Colonel looked fierce in front of his collegues and used his booming voice to command others with a harsh tone he found it difficult to project at a large crowd, he had always been sensitive in secret. Being bullied in childhood could certainly do that to a person.

You were the only one he trusted to see his insecurities, and would always shower him with love and affection in private, reassuring him that yes, he was still your sweet and handsome König, and yes, of course you still loved him — that guy that got a laugh out of you was only one out of pity, as he gave you the ick anyways.

One afternoon while you two were eating dinner, König had out of the blue been the one to suggest the idea of a pet; a strong, big, intimidating dog that would protect you while he himself couldn't.

In all actuality, he had been thinking this over since the day you two started dating.

After all, as much as he'd had liked to clone himself and have one part of him fighting when duty called while the other part stayed with you to protect you at home, obviously that wasn't achievable. That afternoon seemed most appropriate to bring it up, as he was assigned for a mission in two weeks' time and was already worried sick over you despite still yet to be around you at all times for twelve more days.

You laughed, surprised by his sudden suggestion. In a way, you had already had a guard dog all along, you told him, yet König shook his head vehemently, insistent. "Nein! Was ist, wenn du verletzt bist? What if you get hurt while I am away? I won't allow it!"

Shaking your head in defeat as an amused smile was tugging at your lips, you couldn't really blame your boyfriend for being so paranoid. In a sense, he was justified in thinking so, and you couldn't fault him, him being a soldier — a Colonel — and all.

König himself came to the conclusion that you should have a German-Shepherd — "A big, strong, and intelligent dog" — smiling proudly as he said so. Laughing at his need to prove himself to you and his evident enthusiasm that proved he was deadly serious, you shook your head again with a sincere smile on your face and gave his forehead a kiss. Really, his concern over you was endearing, and you loved him so much.

On the day before the mission of his, he surprised you by leading in a fully-grown German Shepherd into your shared home as he carried a large dufflebag over his shoulder. Although you had wanted to have a puppy, König insisted a trained canine used in the police force and military operations would keep you safe, and he was firm, not budging even when you mustered the best puppy-dog eyes you could. He knew best, and he needed to relieve the anxiety that plagued him when you weren't around immediately. Finally having use for the connections he had made in his position, he was able to bring home on of Kortac's own German-Shepherds.

Standing with a self-assured manner, the dog didn't hesistate in showering you with love once the lead came off, lapping and licking at your face in excitement at seeing his new owner's face.

You laughed out loud when you saw a tactical dog collar around his neck, the same khaki colour that matched König's cargo pants. Another piece of König to remind you of him.

Still standing, König watched with his arms crossed and a huge smile across his face as he saw how happy you were. He was beginning to breathe easy with the knowledge that nothing would come to harm you while he was away.

Tongue out while panting, the dog waited expectantly under you for an order.

You looked up at König, eyes sparkling in child-like excitement. "Can he do tricks?"

Smiling, König's eyes crinkled in his love for you. "Schatz, it can do more than just tricks. It can protect you. And it will."

You looked down at the giant yet sweet dog, and raised your voice slightly.

"Sit." He did so without hesitation.

"Handshake," you prompted, and he offered his paw to you obediently.

"Stay..." you began, a finger in front of his snout, "stay..."

"Good boy!" you squealed, and fed him a dog treat from the one of the XXL bags König had bought for the occasion, along with a mountain of dog toys, and even a bed.

"What are clever boy you are, aren't you? Yes you are! You are!"

König crouched, and pet the top of the dog's head a couple of times, his eyes on you. "What do you want to call it, meine Liebe?"

Pausing, all at once it occured to you. With joyful satisfaction, you exclaimed: "Prince!" You giggled, barely able to contain your happiness. "Our Prince to my sweet, handsome King," you cooed, not failing to notice the way König looked away, his cheeks under the eye holes of his hood reddening at your comment.

While away from you for weeks, even months at a time, he could rest easier knowing that you weren't all alone at home. Although he still worried for you excessively, biting his nails when in his room as he thought over how you could be doing and what you were doing at any given time, at least he wouldn't toss and turn at night thinking over what could happen to you. He'd smile in satisfaction, pleased that his presence would still linger even when he wasn't physically there, finding comfort in the fact that a part of him still remained with you when he was hundreds of miles away.

You, on the other hand, were so happy! Obviously you were overwhelmed with the responsibility — quite frankly, you had never had a dog before, much less one this big — so you struggled to take care of it in the beginning. Knowing what food to feed it, how to keep it entertained, going so often outside you'd flop on a chair in exhaustion was physically and mentally demanding, as you wanted your canine companion to love you unconditionally and not be a bad owner to it at all.

However, it all quickly became routine to you: walking your guard dog as his ears were perked up in alertness, head darting around from side to side; playing with it in the park, and spoiling it with treats when you'd get home; and grooming his soft, dark fur and taking him to vet checkups almost made you wonder how you had managed to live this long without ever owning a pet.

Whenever you'd make yourself some food, you filled his bowl with dog food too. Whenever you had just stepped out of the shower, it would be your dog's turn to be cleaned in the bathtub. Whenever you would lazily lay on the sofa or sprawl yourself on the bed, your dog was cuddled up to you.

It was all fun and games, though, until he'd damn near suffocate you with his sheer mass and make you sneeze from the fur that tickled your nostrils, but you slowly grew used to it, using your German Shepherd as a weighted blanket and hugging it like it was your own child.

Somehow, this furry friend filled a void that König would leave behind, and you practically were both attached by the hip — well, by the ankle and hind leg, actually, but that's beside the point. You two were inseparable, and if König knew that then he'd be surely overjoyed.

When König finally had some precious minutes to himself, the first thing he'd do was call you, wanting to hear your voice and make sure you were alright. He'd nearly trip over his own two feet as he scrambled for his phone to dial your number, nearly knocking over a lamp and falling over some furniture in the process.

You'd pick up on the second ring and would nearly go deaf upon hearing the loud accented voice on the receiver. "Liebling! How are you, my sweet? I have been missing you!"

You two would exchange these sorts of questions and proclamations of love back and forth, so lovey-dovey that some of the more daring operators in König's faction made gagging noises on the other side of the door, while the more serious operators scolded them and reminded them that they were yet to feel the touch of another man/woman.

As König would listen to your ramblings about how happy you were and your lovely German Shepard, however, his ears perked up and he listened more closely.

"Prince is so lovely! He's my sweet baby and I love him so so so much! He's definitely my best friend right now, 100%. Everyone back home is getting pissy with me when I don't answer their calls because I spend more time with him than I do with them but can you really blame me when I have this beautiful prince? I mean, he's so sweet! Whenever I don't wake up at the same time in the morning he's jumping into bed and licking my face and oh my God I cannot cope with this cuteness! He's such a good boy! The very best boy! The best boy of all the boys!"

Meanwhile, König stood there, his mouth agape.

...What did you mean he was your sweet baby? Your beautiful prince? Your good boy?

Why would you call him the — not the best, but the very best — boy, the best of all boys? You couldn't have been serious.

It was just a dog. Why were you so attached to it?

It wasn't like König didn't grasp the concept of strong bonds between humans and animals — in fact, he had always been a strong believer of the "dogs being a man's best friend" common knowledge — but... this? You were coddling the thing, for God's sake! It was supposed to be fierce and threatening, not cute and cuddly. How was it supposed to protect you when all you'd do was hug it and give it compliments?

He felt his jaws tighten when you panned the camera down to show the dog peacefully laying beside you on the bed, you stroking his ears. On. The. Bed. On his and your bed. The bed the two of you would sleep on.

König couldn't believe this; he, a grown man, a disciplined soldier that moved up the ranks to be a Colonel, a 6'10 brutal killing machine who l... wanted you to be calling him those things, wanted you to run your fingers through his hair like that. Not some mutt. You were giving it star treatment and pampering it way too much than you should have.

He laughed at himself for thinking so irrationally and for being so immature. I mean, it was a dog. There was no competition to be won, nothing to prove — his rational thought repeated to him that you still loved him regardless — yet the ultimate prize would be you and your attention.

He chuckled disingenuously as you rambled on about something, and the smile under his hood didn't quite reach his eyes.

When he finally returned after grueling months away from you, those pale blue eyes still crinkled up in happiness whenever they saw you, still picked you up and spun you in the air as you'd shriek like a banshee while your legs kicked freely, still gave you a loving kiss on your lips before showering your face with wet kisses. He'd pull away, a boyish grin on his face, his face flushed, your eyes locked with his in an intimate moment...

...And then his mood would sour as your dog leaped up towards you, not wanting to be left out in the reunion.

You'd fail to notice his hands clenched into fists as your dog took the oh so comfortable spot on your lap, where he should have been laying, how below his mask a scowl was aimed at the dog you'd shower with kisses that should have been for him, how the dog would slobber your face and leave it dripping in drool, almost as if it was proving some point to him and being totally smug about it.

Of course, he didn't seem the least bit bothered to you — he wouldn't let his behaviour show. This was utter childishness, completely ridiculous, and absolutely absurd, yet somehow König couldn't control the jealousy that would stew inside of him hours after you'd fall asleep, glaring at the dog laying in between you when all he had wanted all day was to cuddle up to you and hold you close.

Somehow, his plan to keep you safe backfired, because the dog took his job as your body guard too seriously and would not let him be affectionate with you. He was beginning to despise the creature.

When you'd be walking the dog together and shower it with praise, König's hands clenched into tight fists. When you'd stroke the dog's head gently, running your fingers through his thick fur as his front paws were tucked neatly underneath him, König's nails dug into his biceps as he kept his arms firmly crossed, hating what he was seeing through his peripheral vision. When you'd glance at him as your dog was nestled between your legs, he'd turn his head, hiding the furrowed eyebrows and the clear pout on his face of an annoyed child, behaving like an annoyed child.

• In conclusion: give your König a hug. :( A kiss right on the lips and tell him that he's your sweet baby! Your beautiful prince! Your good boy! Your favourite person in the entire world and the best of the best!

• Reserve that precious spot on your lap *just* for him, and allow him to be putty in your hands!

• Run your fingers through his hair just like you would with your dog, and scratch that sensitive spot on his scalp with your fingernails!

• Don't make him regret ever getting the dog for you :'( As time goes on, it will eventually become the "father that didn't want the pet is now best friends with it and the pet is most affectionate with him" kind of dynamic.

• Just because muscular men and army-hardened soldiers like König were disciplined to be stoic and strong, sometimes they want nothing more than affection and words of affirmation from their lover from time to time. <3

So, you'd now lounge on the couch, content with your two guard dogs on either side of you; your Prince laying to your right, and your King in between your thighs, stroking the top of his head as his chest rose and fell at a steady rhythm.

...

Note: Gonna kms 🤡🔫 i have ro to go back to school tmr fucjing WHY i hate everyoje there 😭So yeah less frequent updates sorry guys 💔💔still going to be writing my long-ass fanfictions but itll take more time and ill probs have like 10 mentsl breakfowns daily 🤪 literallt cannot wait 🥰

My writing process is so incomprehensible tho 😭i jump from the first fic im writing to the second one im writing WAYY too often 🗿but ig its good because in a way im not TECHNICALLY procrastinating and beinf productive with 2 projects at once,, tho idk i guess tbats just a major cope if im beinf honest🤷🏼‍♀️

THANKS FOR 1000+ LIKES AND NEARLY 80 FOLLOWERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🎉🎉🎉🎉🎊🎊💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💕💕💕💕 LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF U AND WISH YOU NOTHING BUT HAPPINESS IN LIFE 🥹🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#aking10592_ ≛彡 #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #könig call of duty #konig call of duty #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #könig mwii #konig mwii #könig modern warfare #konig modern warfare #könig fanfiction #konig fanfiction #könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x fem reader #konig x female reader #könig x male reader #konig x male reader #könig x gn reader #könig x gender neutral reader #konig x gn!reader #könig x you #konig x you #cod headcannons

[freakshowtwopointoh]

Hi!! Can I request jealous Jordan li where reader is spending a lot of time with someone else, maybe for a school project or something and Jordan notices and is like, nope, not happening, this one's mine bc they're so in love with reader and want all of the attention

Whew, that was a lot, haha,

Thank you!!!!

*not sure if u want established partners or situationship w feelings or something else, but i think imma go with situationship bc thats always the vibe for jordan lol if u want more established relationship lmk*

Debate club was a sensible extracurricular, and you had been doing it since your school stopped having model UN in 9th grade. It wasn't your favorite thing in the world, but you liked to argue, so it worked out. This week, you were arguing the "for" case with your teammate for the semester, Blake Mathers. He's a grating sophomore with floppy hair, and telekinesis powers you've only seen him use to enable his own laziness. The head of the club was nice enough, but he was insistent on "teamwork" when you'd much rather write alone. It was exhausting, trying to filter your thoughts and opinions, and allowing others to shine was not your style.

You try to pay attention to what Blake was saying about the topic, but all you were thinking about was Jordan Li. Ever since you made out at one of Dusty's infamous parties, they had invaded your senses and your thoughts. They'd catch you staring during class, or you'd wear a tiny skirt to a party, and you'd end up in a closet, or a car, or a bedroom, all limbs and heavy breathing.

"Um, hello? Did you hear me?" You shake your head.

"Sorry. Say that again?"

"The argument we wrote yesterday. It's gone - my computer got fucked." Ah, crap. This is the second time Blake's stupidity has made you re-do work. You'd done some research at the start of the week, and he'd forgotten to mention the topic had been changed. You sigh.

"Well, fuck. Alright, let's go back to the library then." You turn around and start walking, trying not to show your disappointment. You'd been hoping to "run into" Jordan at the JitterBean - hence the tight-ass skinny jeans.

Waste of an outfit, you think bitterly, pushing open the glass doors and setting up at the table that you and Blake had been using to do your assignments. Thankfully you'd saved your notes from yesterday, so you began reconstructing your argument while Blake screwed off.

You weren't paying much attention to what he was doing until you saw him fucking with Justine. Now there's some bullying you can get behind. You giggle, and watch as he makes another paper airplane fly around her head. She glares over at him and storms out, which makes you laugh out loud. The librarian glares, and you exchange a guilty look with Blake before getting back into writing.

The afternoon goes by easily after that. You were vaguely aware of other students milling about or studying nearby, but you were in the zone. Finally, at almost 8, the argument was done, and you saved it in multiple places just in case.

You wave goodbye to Blake, happy that the session went reasonably ok and the work was done. Saturday's debate was going to be a blast.

"Have fun on your little date with Mathers?" Jordan was leaning against the outside wall of the library, expression unreadable.

"Is the infamous Jordan Li jealous?" Their eyes harden slightly.

"Not jealous, just lookin out for you. He's a moron." They begin walking beside you, not acknowledging how unhinged they were behaving. Just looking out for you? If they weren't so damn hot, you might slap them. But the fact that they were asking meant.... something, right? You ignored how that made your heart swoop and just kept walking.

"We have debate club together, and he keeps fucking shit up, that's all." You say, in spite of yourself. If you were smarter, you'd let them wonder what you were doing with him. But you couldn't keep from looking at them, and feeling disappointed you can't make out any relief in their eyes. But then, their arm is snaked around your waist and their lips are at your ear.

"You wear those skin fucking tight jeans to just study with him?" You grit your teeth, forcing your mouth to not say what you wanted so desperately to say: 'No, I wore them for you, and you're clearly the idiot if you can't tell that I am so wrapped around your finger that I will dress up just in case I see you.' and just roll your eyes instead. They let their hand slide from your waist to your back pocket, daring you to stop them. And of course you don't. With every inch their hand travels, your heart skips another beat. When they squeeze your ass ever so slightly, a whimper sneaks out before you can stop it.

And with that, you're being pressed against a tree and their lips are on your neck.

"Fuck, J." You curse as their teeth sink into your skin.

"You're mine, baby. Only mine." They murmur in your ear.

"Always have been." You say back, almost moaning as they continue their assault on your neck. They pull away at this.

"Yeah? That why you're spending all your time with Mathers and co instead of me, in such," They pause to run their hands on your hips, pulling you tight against them. "delicious clothes."

"I thought you weren't jealous." You murmur, sliding your hand up their back. "But I wore these, and what's underneath, for you and you alone. He's just a moron who's forced me to re-do my work twice this week alone."

"Oh, you poor baby. Let me take you up and make everyone hear who really owns you." You barely hold back a moan as they drag you up to your dorm to fulfill their promise.

#jordan li #gen v #gen v prime #jordan li x reader #gen v smut #gen v fic #jordan li imagine #request #reqs open

[oct0bra1ns]

Just did my nails and in the hour it took I thought of this so do with it as u please

I don’t know if you’ve ever done anything like this

But like any type of yandere monster recreating your house/ room perfectly and then bringing you there and their super happy bout it and like ‘look what I made! Don’t you just love it? 😊😊”

like a demon? Omgmgmg or some hot vers of boogie man

idk tbh I have a lot of ideas I’m just trying to give u som of my mind

like summoning a demon bc why not? A bitch was bored 🌝 and it’s all scary and shit and you’re just totally chill, “hey man, didn’t mean to summon you- you wanna just like? I don’t know…go back to hell?” And the demon is obv offended

so it follows u around menacingly and yeah

ur his now ❤️

anyways do with this as u please 💕💕 I love ur writing sm btw, I hope the food u eat always taste good and yr pillows are cold on both sides!

Pairing: Yandere Monster x reader Tw: manipulation, mentions of bringing harm to others , yanderes, notes: big brain, the best ideas always come when you're doing your nails tbh and THANK YOU, I HOPE THE YEAR GOES AMAZING FOR YOU. reblogs and comments are appreciated!

CONSIDER, the monster had already been admiring you for a while now, taking note of the style you wear, the food you eat, and trying to find what kind of house you'd like so all these things could add up as a plus point when you finally summon him.

Yandere monster who wastes no time in trying to get you to come home with him but the moment you ask him to go back sheepishly, he gives you such an offended looking, asking you what he lacks for you to try to send him away.

Eventually, he gets you to let him stay, allowing to choose whether you want to stay here or go back with him, either way, he'd making sure you lack nothing and are well looked after. He takes pride in knowing your tastes and admires the way your face lights up when you see what he's done for you.

If you choose to stay here, he changes his appearance to fit the standards of the humans whenever outside but in the house, he has no problem flaunting the markings on his skin and horns. To fit in, he uses his influence and power to build up a company from the ground, one where signing a contract with him means selling your soul for success.

He isn't concerned with competition, all he cares about his making sure you're well taken care of but do not mistake this for him being laid back, he's always at your side at parties or anyplace you go to keep other pests away from you, any idiot who dares to approach you will become bankrupt and deal with many things they've been trying to hide or they will be caught in an unfortunate accident.

If you choose to go back to his realm, the way your spoiled only amps up, being from one of the most influential families back home, you've basically become royalty. Of course, his people are not so accepting at first but seeing as he ranks way over them, they keep quiet, his family on the other hand will adore you, admiring the chaos you bring along with being their son's partner.

Always at his side in every event, not as an object to be admired but as his partner and equal and anyone who tries to approach him about how you make an excellent pet will be made an example of what not to do.

Loves picking out clothes for you that are from his realm, tailoring them to fit you perfectly and making sure that above anything else, you love the way it looks.

Any freedom you had back in the world is basically gone in his world, the people here are horrible, you never know when they'll decide to change their mind and try to show off.

octo notes:hmm, thinking of naming him deimos :p

#octo answers #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #octo writes #tw yandere #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere monster #yandere x willing reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you

[silamander]

Random Hatchetfield headcanons in no particular order.

In honor of Cinderella's Castle being fully funded, have my silly little thoughts about Hatchetfield and it's residents (A few of these I yoinked from Tumblr so they're mine now :3)

Richie and Pete are both autistic. Grace is too but she has lower functioning autism.

Pete’s special interest is horror movies/special effects. Grace and Richie's special interests are…pretty obvious. But Richie also loves Godzilla and Grace loves the supernatural.

Jon Matteson said that Paul might be autistic, so I take that as canon. On top of that he has undiagnosed depression and anxiety.

Paul has two siblings. One being Gary, his little brother. And his older sister, who he lives with, who is actually Richie's mother. Richie's father died when he was very young so Paul stepped up to help his sister and nephew financially, and he’s the closest thing Richie has to a father figure.

For someone who used to tell Gary and his sister that he'd never have kids, Paul adores Richie and tries his absolute best to be the father he never had.

Boy Jerry is Paul and Gary’s cousin.

Ruth and Richie probably met when they were really young & both were lonely & in need of a friend. Like walking up on the playground “you wanna be friends?” “Yeah!” type of deal.

Paul and Charlotte were friends in middle school-high school.

Gary decorates his house like a suburban white mom, those rustic white letters in the kitchen, everything labeled in slightly stretched text, that type of thing.

In the proshot for NPMD, Ms. Chasity uses the correct pronouns for Ziggy. So I headcanon that The Chasity family, despite being hardcore christians, respect the LGBTQ community.

The most lethal weapon in all of Hatchetfield is Grace Chasity’s puppy dog eyes.

Charlotte’s sweater was a birthday gift from Ted. He made her swear not to tell anyone it came from him. He has a reputation, y’know?

Paul uses his phone like a grandma, he puts on the glasses to read and everything.

Gary knows how to play the piano.

Ted loves Steph and treats her like his sister. He's so proud of Peter for not only pulling one of the most popular girls in school, but that same girl is helping him with his self image and confidence.

Charlotte does yarn crafts (like knitting and crochet and cross stitch and shit) to get her anger out because stabby stabby.

Barry Swift is fully, completely, absolutely, 100% gay and in denial about it. Also he and Gary are childhood friends (to feed the Attorney in a hurry fans).

The people who went to Sycamore are, in no particular order; Paul Matthews, Charlotte Sweetly, Sam Sweetly, Gary Goldstein, Barry Swift, Karen & Mark Chasity, Dan Reynolds, Nora Beanie, and Melissa Nolastname.

Grace is the type of girl who says she hates drama and gossip but she knows all the drama at Hatchetfield High.

Like Paul, Gary is also autistic.

Paul drives Richie, Steph, Pete, Grace and Ruth everywhere. Paul likes all of Richie's friends even if they're a little weird (he finds Grace a little obnoxious though but he's not gonna say it)

Steph says Paul’s aesthetic is “Cardboardcore”

Pete is just the most attentive and perceptive partner ever. In every sense of the words. He picks up on every little detail. Steph had a bad day? Pete instantly knows how to cheer her up. Steph is excited about something and needs to talk about it? Hey babe what’s up tell me all about it. Pete’s the type to start keeping snacks on hand because he knows Steph’s internal clock and that she always forgets to eat and then gets hangry after a few hours.

When Stephanie is exhausted she literally makes no sense, she babbles the most nonsensical bullshit.

Barry Swift has ADHD and OCD.

Gary wears those blue pinstripe pajamas. With the lil hat too.

Paul has the most unorganized and dirty room for some reason, like he never even bothered decorating it.

Sam and Charlotte were high school sweethearts and kinda rushed into marriage soon after graduating.

Gary wanted to buy a Wiggly doll for Richie.

Steph’s ripped jeans had small holes in them when she bought them and her dad made fun of her for buying something already broken so she made the holes bigger out of spite.

Grace has asked Steph, Pete, Richie and Ruth at least 3 times if they would still love her if she was a worm.

Gary unironically refers to Facebook as "the book of faces”

#starkid #team starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetfield universe #hatchetverse #hatchetfield headcanon #starkid headcanon #stephanie lauter #pete spankoffski #grace chasity #richie lipschitz #ted spankoffski #charlotte sweetly #gary goldstein #boy jerry #barry swift #the guy who didn't like musicals #black friday #nerdy prudes must die #lautski #attorney in a hurry #paul matthews the autistic icon

[cursedkeyboard]

Funnily enough, I've never been too big of a Jason Todd fan. Not because I don't like him, he's a great character, but because DC fails over and over again to give him justice and treat him right.

The number of times alone this boy has been beaten by his adoptive father, betrayed, and forgotten are far too many, far too much.

And the constant portrayal of Jason as this volatile, violent, mindless man is tiresome, lazy in all senses of the word and overdone. I understand that Jason was unstable after he left the pit, I mean, who wouldn't? The trauma of his death alone could've sent anyone crazy, but then to experience everything else afterwards, including having to come to terms that Bruce not only did not kill his murder but also replaced him, leaving Jason to grieve what was once his and what he should've gotten, of course he'd be less than okay.

Again, I'm not the biggest Jason Todd fan but I do wish more people would see just how much good Jason has in his heart, how kind and gentle he can be once his walls are down, when he's no longer constantly analyzing your actions and wondering why would you bother talking to him, getting closer to him.

In my opinion, a man who is so gentle with children, who constantly gives second, third, and fourth chances to people who don't deserve it, who despite it all still wants to make a change and protect the city that failed him, couldn't possibly be anything but the most caring partner. Not just partner, no, also brother and friend.

We all know what he did to Tim and Damian, there are reasons, such as his mental instability at the time and rage, and though those are not excuses, I believe Jason would still drop everything to go save his family. He might complain, he might brood, but family is something important to him even when just looking at them hurts him. He lost his loving mother, stepmother, far too early and it's not hard to imagine that even with all the pain and grief inside his torn heart, the little boy inside Jason still craves the warmth of a family.

Just look at the way he treats his friends, at the way he helps them through situations no one else would, how caring and attentive he is. Jason is gentle, sure, he is rough and mean and he's got blood on his hands, but Jason is made of love.

Jason was made to be loved.

So I think, whether platonic or romantically, Jason would treat you so well. He'd scold you for not wearing warm clothes during winter, "We're in Gotham, you fucking moron, you wanna freeze to death?", all while wrapping you with his jacket or scarf. He'd make sure you're eating at least something every day, and if not, he would immediately put you under his arm, maybe over his shoulder, and take you to the nearest food chain he could find, "I don't want to hear you complaining about headaches when all you had today was a cup of coffee and gum.".

Lord, he'd be torn between freaking out and being extremely annoyed that you got hurt, be it at work, a fight, or just out of clumsiness. But no matter what, his hands would always be so, so gentle when touching you. The tip of his fingers brushing under the injury, as light as a breeze, his other hand holding the back of your neck, or your bicep, perhaps even your hand just to make sure you're there, with him.

Jason would both hush you gently, "I know, sweetheart, we're almost done.", and also tease because he's a little shit at heart, "If you had a little more awareness than a ten year old this wouldn't have happened, idiot."

And physical touches? Oh, love, Jason is a sucker for intimacy.

I know for a fact he wouldn't be comfortable for a long time with anyone in his personal space due to the torture he went through. The trauma would make his skin crawl any time someone got too close or brushed past him, he'd hate it so much because it makes him weak but also because he can't let anyone try to hug him without feeling sick to his stomach.

And with you it's no different. It would take a long time, a lot of trust being built up, conflict and confessions, maybe he'd even open up to you with his head on your lap as you brushed his hair softly, a big, big step for him after years of not letting anyone close. He'd tell you about the Joker, about having hope in Bruce, about his biological mother. And he'd feel vulnerable like a child when you wipe his tears gently without a word.

Once he starts craving your touch, though, regardless if you two have a platonic or romantic relationship, Jason is putty in your hands. Forehead kisses when you part ways, cuddling on the couch while he reads and you're on your phone, thighs touching when sitting close, even a little bit of hand holding when he's stressed and needs to play with your fingers.

He's like a big cat that's constantly making his way onto your chest, stealing your breath and making biscuits on your skin, making sure you're giving him sufficient pats every day.

It's a little part of him that he's barely able to properly allow space for. There's still so much hurt in Jason, so much confusion and desperation, hatred and upset, that he'd probably still close off sometimes, try acting tough so you'd see how fucked up he is, how he's not truly worth of your love.

And yet.

And yet all it'd take for him to go soft and pliant in your hands would be a single touch, cupping his cheeks, brushing his skin softly with your thumbs, right under his pretty emerald eyes, making sure his gaze is on you and only you. Just like that, he'd slump his shoulders and bring you into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezing you close, your heartbeats synching.

He wouldn't remember when he started feeling safest in your arms but it'd feel like it was since forever. Like there was no one else but you.

Jason was made to be loved, though he is a little broken and a little tainted, lost like a child and hateful like a sinner, your love might just be his salvation, something he's greedy for, selfish for, even when he's so hesitant of somehow hurting you.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood x reader #gender neutral reader #my ode to jason todd because my best friend is obsessed with him

[hellfirenacht]

Plus One Chapter 1

Summary: Once upon a time, you made a deal with the school freak that if he ever got famous then he'd invite you to be his plus one at a red carpet event. Now a decade later an invite shows up at your house asking you to be the +1 to Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin.

Tags: modern!au, Eddie and Reader are in their late 20's/early 30's after the deal is made. Rockstar!Eddie. Friends to strangers to friends to lovers, references to Flight of Icarus characters eventually

The squeak of desks being pushed across linoleum flooring made you wince as everyone adjusted the classroom for partner work. It was too early for this, you hadn’t slept the night before and had almost been late to this class, taking your seat at the last second just as the bell rang. 

First period science wasn’t your hardest class, but it wasn’t exactly your best subject either. You’d been floating along with a solid C and that was as good as you were hoping to get. As long as you graduated by this point, you’d be happy. It was near the end of your senior year, and senioritis was hitting you hard. It was your hope that you could just coast these last few weeks, pass your finals and get the hell out of the public school system. 

There would be no coasting this morning though as you were all assigned partners. No one was thrilled about this development aside from a few peers who had been partnered with their friends. You weren’t exactly unpopular but you didn’t have anyone in this class that you would consider a friend or even an acquaintance. You’d borrowed a pencil once from Randy who sat in front of you, but other than that you kept to yourself first thing in the morning. 

Which is why when the name ‘Munson’ was called out along with your own surname you’d barely registered who that was. A few people snickered and you caught one girl giving you a pitying look as you tried to connect the name to a face. It took your partner sitting down across from you for you to realize who you’d been paired with. 

Munson. Eddie Munson. Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. 

Ah. That Munson. 

“Uh, hi.” he said, with a wave and you desperately tried to reconnect the tired wires in your brain to say hi back. 

“Mornin’” you managed to spit out. He sat in the back of the class on the opposite side of the room. You rarely even saw him in class because you were usually here before him, and he was the first to get out the door when class ended. You never said a word to him the whole semester, but again, you didn’t talk to anyone in this class. 

Worksheets were passed around and you stared at the different questions and equations. You might as well be sitting in Latin class with as much as this made sense to you. 

“I know this is a higher level than what you all are used to, but this is what is going to be expected of you in college next year.” Your teacher explained, followed by a chorus of groans which included yours as well as Eddie’s. 

The two of you stared at the worksheet for a moment before making eye contact. You felt a little nervous under his gaze; you’d seen him around school and had heard the rumors about the leader of the Dungeons and Dragons club. He’d been seen pushing around freshmen wearing the same shirt as him, and was often regarded as a loudmouth and a danger to everyone in school. 

It didn’t help his case that he looked older than you. His broad shoulders were only accentuated by the heavy leather jacket and denim vest giving him the appearance of someone who absolutely should not be in high school. How old was he anyway? 

“Eddie.” 

You blinked, surprised he was the first to speak. You offered your name as well with a nod, neither of you going for the handshake. 

“So... does any of this make sense to you?” he asked, looking back down at the worksheet. 

You glanced down with a small laugh. “Not even a little.” 

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

He looked up at you with a sheepish grin, and you swear it took at least five years off his appearance. You found yourself relaxing just a bit, if he was as dangerous as everyone made him out to be, at least he wouldn’t do something stupid in the middle of class. Hopefully. 

You grabbed your textbook and opened it up and Eddie leaned over the desk to read with you. 

“Sorry, forgot mine.” He said and you adjusted the book so it sat between the two of you. 

The next half hour was a testament of will as the two of you tried your best to work out the formulas put in front of you. The ancient calculators that the teacher had provided only caused more confusion between the two of you and you tried to figure out buttons that you had never had to press before. 

“I’m sure someone, somewhere is using this on a daily basis.” you said as you jotted down a string of numbers that you were positive were wildly incorrect. “I understand that this is important to someone, but outside of a trivia game there’s no way I’m ever going to even think about this ever again.” 

You were mostly talking to yourself, not expecting a response from your partner. He was looking at the calculator, and your string of numbers with equal confusion. 

“Music is as advanced as my math skills go.” Eddie said. He’d removed his jacket at some point where you were staring at your textbook with a blank expression trying to understand how to apply the formulas. You couldn’t stop your eyes from occasionally flicking towards the tattoos that covered his right arm. So he was at least old enough to get tattoos... or to have a parent or guardian agree to let him get tattoos. 

You weren’t sure why you were so hung up on his age. Maybe it was easier to focus on that mystery than the jumble of letters and numbers that was making your brain more numb than it already felt. 

“What kind of music?” The question was out of your mouth without thinking. You didn’t think you’d seen him hang out with the band or orchestra kids before. 

“Metal and rock music mostly.” Eddie said, erasing one of the numbers. His pencil was a cheap one, and only managed to make a huge smudge on his paper rather than clear his answer. You handed over your own pencil on instinct and he took it with a thanks. 

“Do you play an instrument or something?” you asked, already checked out of the worksheet. Fuck it. It’s not like it was going to count for much anyway. 

“Yeah I, uh, I’ve been playing guitar since I was a kid.” There was a light in his eyes that made you wonder why anyone would ever think he was dangerous or scary. In the half hour that the two of you had been struggling with this busy work the two of you had been making small talk that you’d found way more engaging. 

“Electric or guitar?” you asked, and it was when Eddie let out a laugh that you realized what you had asked. You pressed your hands to your face with an embarrassed chuckle. “I didn’t sleep last night.” 

“I play electric and guitar.” came the teasing response. “But I lean more towards electric unless my uncle is home or I need to keep it down.”

“Are you any good?” 

“Good enough to have a steady gig at the Hideout.” he shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’s a stage. Sort of.” 

Eddie had also given up on the worksheet and was using your pencil to absently doodle in the margins of the paper. 

“I have no idea where that is.” 

“Shady dive bar in the warehouse district. My band and I play on Tuesdays, you should come see us sometime. It’s a shithole, but it’s safe.” The last part was added hastily as he saw your weary expression. 

A shady dive bar on a school night? Not a great chance of that. 

“What’s your band called?” 

“Corroded Coffin.” he dug around his pockets in his jeans and jacket before he pulled out a bent cut out piece of flashcard and handed it to you. It had the band’s name scribbled on it in sharpie and a list of socials on the back. It screamed home made and there was a charm to it that made you smile. 

“I’ll check you out.” you said, tucking it into the book you had been reading for the past week knowing damn well that you were probably going to forget about it the second it was out of sight. 

“Don’t worry about the worksheet being perfect.” the teacher piped up from their desk. “Just do your best, and it’s only being counted as pass/fail. I’m just trying to see that you’re all able to use your critical thinking skills to look up information.”

“I’m about to use my critical thinking skills to bullshit the rest of the worksheet.” Eddie muttered and you laughed. 

You grabbed his worksheet and scribbled down a formula and some numbers and handed it back. “Long as there’s something written down she doesn’t care.” 

That was good enough for the both of you as you set the papers aside. There was still a good fifteen minutes left in class, and you expected that the two of you would just sit awkwardly in your grouped desk facing each other until the bell rang. You almost laid your head down on the desk and try and get a power nap in, but curiosity was getting the better of you. 

“So, you wanna do music for a living?” you asked, looking at him again. 

“Ideally.” Eddie said, fidgeting with your pencil still. You decided that it was his pencil now, you had others in your bag. “I know it’s a long shot and most of my band is still gonna be in school when I graduate this year but we’ve got a few songs that we’ve been working on.”

“So you’re gonna be famous one day?” It wasn’t a sarcastic question, but a genuine one. Maybe this guy could be famous one day, you didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t even want to be famous. 

Eddie shook his head and laughed. “I’ll be lucky to keep the lights on with my music, but I’m gonna try.”

“You’re going to be famous.” you told him with a firm nod. The lack of sleep was catching up to you. It’s not like anything in this class was going to matter in the future anyway. “I’ve decided it.”

“You decided that I’m going to be famous?” he asked slowly, as if trying to decide if you were fucking with him or not. 

“Yeah, why not?” You replied. 

He stared at you and his gaze turned intense as he sat up straighter. Eddie’s gaze swept over your face, looking for any sign that you were speaking with ill intent, when he found none, he gave you a smile. 

“I’ll hold you to it then.” he said. “If I don’t get famous I’m holding you personally responsible.” 

“Alright, but there’s a catch.” your smile widened. 

“A catch? You won’t let me get famous on my charm and talent alone?” He tilted his head with a grin. 

“Nope. I need payment. Deciding things isn’t cheap, you know.” you were delusional from lack of sleep, and you probably sounded crazy to him.

“Alright, what’s your fee?” Eddie leaned back in his chair, looking as if he were trying to start a business deal. His demeanor change starkly contrasted the long dark hair, band t shirt, and heavy metal rings he wore and you had to stop yourself from laughing. 

You thought about it for a moment. “I want to be your plus one to at least one of your red carpet events.” you said. “I think that’s payment enough.”

He rubbed his chin in thought, as if carefully considering your offer. “And if I don’t.”

“If you forget to come back for Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.” you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing now at how ridiculous you sounded. 

“Holes? Really?” Eddie snorted. “Alright, I know how that story ends. You have a deal.” 

He offered you his hand and you two shook on it. 

And because you two had at least ten minutes to kill, Eddie took out a beat up notebook and started drawing up a contract to make it official. The two of you debated on the wording, and how it should be drawn out. In the end, it was decided that Eddie would have at least five years after his first red carpet to invite you to an event (your idea) or else he’d be cursed and he’d end up on TMZ in a scandal involving a goat and a runaway parade float (his idea).

You each signed the fake contract, dated it, and had the teacher notarize it. 

“Did you two even try to do the worksheet?” they asked, signing and stamping the notebook with a ‘GOOD JOB!’ stamp.

“We tried.” Eddie smiled at the teacher, taking the notebook back and trading it for the worksheets.

The bell rang and you two shook hands one last time. The last few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of spring break, prom season, and graduation. You barely talked to Eddie after that class, occasionally saying hi to him in the hallway, or the odd small chat during class. You’d managed to get him to sign your yearbook, but he hadn’t asked you to sign his. You felt a little sad about it, looking back. He’d been nice to talk to, and his reputation hadn’t lived up to that hour that you’d been forced to spend with him. 

Graduation was the last time you’d seen him, when he’d run across the stage, flipped off Principal Higgins and ran off like a bat out of hell. You had looked for him passively in the chaos and sea of graduates and their families taking photos and congratulating each other. Okay, maybe you’d looked for him a bit more deliberately than you’d let on. 

Maybe you had developed a small crush on Eddie in that hour that you’d spent working on that stupid worksheet. Maybe you had hoped that when you gave him your email in that contract he’d reach out to you to say hi. Maybe, yes, you did eventually remember the handmade business card for Corroded Coffin and had looked up their information a month into summer to find them as dead and dry as the Sahara desert, with only a muffled .mp3 of one of their songs to go off of. 

There were a lot of maybe’s that came with being in high school. 

But life moves on. You forget about the man with the long dark hair and boyish smile. Your yearbook gets tucked away in a box, out of site and out of mind. The homemade business card gets lost under the bed and eventually tossed in a deep clean as you get ready to move to college and move out. The muffled .mp3 sits in your computer for years until you get a smartphone and stuff a ton of your old music on it, shuffling it into your streaming playlists. 

The song gets skipped over more often than you’d ever admit. 

And now there you were in your new apartment a year after graduating college, living on your own for the first time. No dorm, no family, no roommates, no partner. 

It was the middle of your work week, and you were outside checking the mail. You flipped through the envelopes of junk and bills for anything that would have been worth the walk from your apartment to the community mailbox. 

A thick envelope with your name and address was in the middle of the pile. Your name was hand lettered in fancy script and you glanced at where the return address should be. 

WR RECORDS 

Who?

You pulled the envelope out and glanced at the rest of the mail to make sure there was nothing important there before tossing it into your neighbors recycling bin. You ripped open the envelope. 

Inside was a thick black card, and your name was once again written in beautiful red ink that reflected off the dark card stock. 

WR Records would like to invite you to be the +1 to Mr. Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin to this year's annual Hellfire Awards.

And below that in chicken scratch handwriting that wildly contrasted the careful lettering of the rest of the card: 

A deal’s a deal.

You stared at the words and read them over and over and over again, trying to make sense of them and only one question passed your mind. 

“Who the fuck is Eddie Munson?” 

---

Please comment and reblog <3

Tag List: @hellfiredarling @crocwork-clockodile @hitoshislut @kurdtbean @kennedy-brooke @daisyridleyyyy

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #Plus One

[chrollohearttags]

swisher sweet • connie springer

cw: throat training, back shots, very vocal (and aggressive) Connie 🥴, spit play, cumshot, vibrator use

📝: it’s been a minute but plug Connie is living in my frontal lobe right now. I also wanted to say thank you guys sm for 2K! That’s so unreal and I’m grateful

"Mmmphm! Mmphmph!"

the muffled sounds of gulping and moaning resonated throughout the room.

a haze of white smoke hovering throughout the air, speakers softly thumping with music, dim lights illuminating the room, and of course....

"Yeah, eat that dick up, baby..get that shit wet fa' me.."

the deep voice of your plug turned partner, Connie, coaching you through sucking him off while he exhaled clouds of smoke.

not that you needed any guidance but since getting with him, it didn't take long to learn how dominant he was..

since the two of you hooked up on a random night, some months ago in the backseat of his car, things had quickly escalated.

he made good on his promise to ensure that you never had to pay a single cent for his weed again, but he also began doting on you in other ways..paying for your hair and nails, books for class, taking you shopping and even when it was safe to do so, on dates sometimes.

most of all, he just enjoyed your presence.

but sometimes it wasn't possible for him to be around! You knew this about him and his lifestyle long before any type of relationship yet it didn't make it easier.

you'd become flustered and irritated that he had forgotten all about you or even found somebody else.

and admittedly, you had been giving him grief about it. Pouting and being a brat because truthfully, you just wanted all of his attention.

so on nights like this one..when he brought you back to one of his hideouts;

told all of his boys don't come back until he said so and proved to you just how much you had been on his mind!

currently, Connie was seated on the futon, muscular, tattooed legs sprawled to each side and wearing nothing but gym shorts that you had ruffled to his ankles.

one hand holding a lit blunt, pierced between his fingertips..occasionally bringing it to his lips.

the other? Resting atop your head, gently using it to bob your head back and forth.

several strings of saliva dribbling down your chin and chest, jaw slack and throat sore from the constant pounding of his cock.

slathering him up in your spit before he sandwiched your head once more, doubling down on bobbing it back and forth..

causing your mouth to erupt with gagging noises.

"You doing so good, mama..fuck, yesss."

he'd moan out, head rolling back on his shoulders as (y/n) swallowed it in its entirety.

suddenly, you felt your head frozen in place for a few seconds, forced to breathe solely from your nose whilst he held it there until you began to gag.

"..letting me fuck that pretty 'lil face. You know nobody can't do that shit like you, baby..ain't got no reason to trip, for real.."

his voice and tone getting you even more aroused as he cooed sweet nothings to you in his own manner.

but he wasn't wrong.

there wasn't one girl alive that could take your spot so you had no reason to be jealous or insecure about anything.

besides, he was too busy 'working', trying to run up the bag, only to come back and blow it on you.

yet, here you were getting upset with him..knowing damn well what he was into and it'd be like this if you wanted this to work.

"..this dick all for you, anytime you want it. 'Just gotta say that shit and I'm here."

finally, he'd pull your head back up, allowing you to catch your breath for a moment before proceeding to use your esophagus as a sleeve yet again.

this time, speeding up until you felt him throbbing.

he was grunting so loud, his moans so sexy and encouraging.

you were still whimpering; lips wrapped around the base of his dick and sweat pooling around your forehead and under eye.

makeup smeared from the slimy mess on your features..

but he loved very bit of it and soon, you'd find yourself as the object of his affection and his pure filthy desires.

finally hoisting your head up, Connie withdrew his soaked appendage from between your plump lips and rubbed his thumb across them.

"..but since you wanna act up and get mad, imma have to handle that."

with your tongue slithering out, he'd grip your throat and pull you closer before taking one more drag of his blunt.

your eyes fluttering and a wide grin on your face, glaring up at him.

you were looking a little delirious and dizzy after having your head jarred around like that, as well as your mouth.

but that was still just as slick as ever, of course!

playfully pouting and fluttering your eyes, in hopes that it would settle him but it was too late..

"I was just playing thoughhh."

to which he'd just blow that cloud of smoke into your open mouth and chuckle, grasping the back of your neck gently and pulling you up.

"Man, whatever. Better be lucky I love you. Lay your pretty ass on that bed..on your stomach too."

with that, you walked over to the mattress, sprawling out with an arch in your back.

(Y/N) got on all fours as you crawled in and positioned yourself ass up with your face down into the mattress, only lifted by your folded arms.

you were only in a tiny tank top and thong panties, which he was quick to pull aside once he straddled behind you.

from this angle, he could see the thin string swallowed up by the fatness of your pussy.

reaching between your legs to rub your clit and play in the folds.

"Yeah..imma definitely have to wear this shit out. So fucking wet..I just know she missed me."

"Yes, daddy..need all that dick in it tonight."

subtly making your cheeks clap as he massaged and spanked them.

"Then I won't keep you waiting for it, mama."

removing his shorts and hoisting his black wife beater above his head, Connie wasted no time giving you what you wanted.

bunching the material up in his palm, forming a fist, he'd ease the tip up against your slit, just barely prodding your hole before you'd shudder.

and once you did, he'd land a heavy handed slap on your ass and make you yelp.

"Spread that shit open..hurry up."

it pleased him to see the nails he paid for on display like this.

placing each hand on either side and splaying open your entrance for him. And it needed no prep because you were soaking..

so much so, it was already leaking on your thighs; he couldn't wait to feel it dripping down his dick.

grasping your waist, he'd pull you back against his pelvis, slowly easing himself in until he heard you cry out.

"F-fuck.."

"I'm almost in...let me have it, baby."

which only pushed him to go deeper until he was hitting your hilt and making your arch further.

from there, he'd place his hand on the small of your back; the cold metal of his gold AP scaling your skin. But seconds later, you'd feel something else:

that first thrust! Gliding all the way in, only to pull out before repeating that yet again for a few times. The warmth making him want to stay in it forever..

back and forth, Connie pushed until he was able to finally gain a rhythm, despite the grip you had on him.

for now, he'd only feed you slow strokes for his own pacing and your punishment.

he needed make sure that you were satisfied enough for tonight and when he wasn't there. A couple more quick pushes had you trickling down his shaft.

especially since he had decided to slide his thumb into your ass, massaging the puckering hole to intensify the pleasure.

and he wasn't shy about letting you know how amazing it felt!

with your head to the pillow, you'd continue moaning and begging for more as well.

"Ooh...that dick feels so good. So fucking big."

"I know..and this pussy 'so creamy, baby..you nutting on me already.."

the frothy white substance making a mess everywhere.

drawing out his words in a whiny breath that made you clamp down yet again. But this was merely a taste of what was to come.

soon enough, you'd find yourself clawing at the sheets as he finally began to speed up.

as you expected, he wasn't taking it easy; putting his all into pounding your little cunt. Even if it meant it had you crawling away from him!

every time he'd strike your hilt, you'd release a high pitched cry before going in the opposite direction;

fingernails clawing into the sheets and your teeth sinking into the pillow, but he was only getting started and you weren't going anywhere.

"Babyyyy! Fuck.."

"Nah, you was doing all that begging and arguing for this dick earlier, don't run from it..take that shit."

chuckling as he slapped your ass yet again.

and just to make certain he had complete reign, Connie hoisted one leg up, placing a foot on the bed and hovered over you.

meanwhile, he was getting deeper, prompting his balls to collide with your aching clit. You were going to pay for all that attitude by letting him fuck it out of you.

and so far, it was working!

(Y/N) was yelling, struggling to keep your composure as he reached and swelled in the pit of your stomach.

heavy ass cheeks ricocheting off of his abs and pelvic bone, making him want to feed you more of that length.

"Yeah, you gon' come for me? Give me what I want? You 'gone make a mess on this fucking dick?"

questioning with the sweetest tone as he raised your head to glare into his eyes. Yours were rolling back, making his tap your cheek to bring you back.

"Answer when I talk to you. Speak up."

"Yes daddy, I'mma come so fucking hard!"

crying, damn near sobbing from his brutal stroking. But you better had made good on that promise because he wasn't letting up until he felt it showering him and the sheets.

luckily for him, his wish would come true shortly as he gave a couple more and suddenly:

"Oh my God! Fuck!.."

the only thing he heard before the sounds of flowing water and you became his own personal faucet...letting those juices flow.

"Mmm! There you go, mama. Squirt for me..oh shittt!"

tossing his head back in pure bliss at the wonderful sensation. Sometimes he loved inviting you over just so you could fuck up his sheets.

but that wasn't enough, he needed to break you before you left.

so despite the fact that he had just fucked you into orgasmic oblivion, he still hadn't reached his own because he had been restraining himself.

so mid climax, he'd push his way back in until he could fit, because naturally, you had tightened up...

regardless, that didn't deter him from fucking the hell out of you!

and those rough, unrhythmic strokes became harder until you felt those fingernails kneading into the curve of your hips.

his breathing became labored, heavy heaving and faster movements until you felt him freeze in place and suddenly, your womb became filled with his cum.

veins protruding from his forehead and his clutch growing tighter.

"Agghhh! Take it..take that nut, baby! Yes.."

grunting so loudly as those warm droplets spilled into you.

for a moment, Connie found himself collapsed over your back; his gold chain brushing against your shoulder blades whilst he tilted your head towards him.

"C'mere, lemme kiss you.."

intertwining your tongues together in a moment of softness and heated passion. He truly couldn't get enough, hence why y'all were about to go for round two!

finally withdrawing, he'd grip the base of his cock, gently stroking the throbbing member as he prompted you to flip over.

once you did so, he'd quickly hoist your legs up before pinning them back behind your head.

having you folded from this angle left you completely exposed and he could even see remnants of his own nut, spilling from inside of you.

he knew it was a dangerous game but he couldn't help himself when it felt so warm and velvety.

"Stay like that, I gotta grab 'sum.."

announcing suddenly before walking over towards the dresser, retrieving something..

you'd watch him take another hit of the blunt he had been nursing earlier before opening the first drawer and pulling something out.

a medium sized, white device that began buzzing the closer he got..

"Hell yeah..this shit 'bout to feel so good."

seeing the excitement on his face as he neared the bed once more and placed his open palm on the backs of your thigh.

the whirring vibrator only inches from your protruding little bud as he began to reenter that messy heat.

your sex; a mixture of your arousal and his own but there more to come.

his tip was a bit brighter than the rest of his slightly tanned hued length, sensitive from prodding your g-spot.

tapping it against the plumpness of your pussy lips, smacking noises arose as he stirred up that wetness even more.

while maintaining your position, (y/n) glared up at him and made those needy pleas for him to be one with you again.

"Connie, babyyy, please..."

"Please what? Tell me..I know that mouth works. Talk."

just torturing you with that vibrator hovering over you as well as only teasing you with that head against your entrance.

"Please..I need you to fuck me.."

"You gone' act right if I do? You better not run from it again.."

with the way he was stroking in your shit, it was kind of inevitable but if it got you wanted, you'd give him your word.

"I promise I won't.." whimpering helplessly.

he didn't believe a word you said but it was going to amuse him to watch you struggle so he proceeded to glide in, placing that device to your little bud simultaneously.

initially, he was the one taken aback and had to regain his stance.

pressing his weight into the mattress, Connie crumpled your tank top into the same hand as the vibrator, tugging it down to expose your breasts.

admittedly, he loved fucking you in missionary because you looked so pretty.

finding his pace once more, he'd start gliding in and out..letting your flesh wrap around his shaft.

the deep thrusts growing more frequent as he found your spot once more. It was a feeling he'd never grow tired of.

"Eyes on me, mama. I wanna see those faces while I stroke this pussy.."

commanding you to keep your head fixated straight so that you could watch his every movement.

eventually, those strokes grew much quicker and soon, your bodies were bouncing in unison. Sounds of squelching along with buzzing filled the atmosphere.

between the constant stimulation of the zapping and penetration, you were losing your mind!

making your features contort in response.

it was pretty pointless trying to keep your gaze on him because he had your eyes rolling backwards and legs trembling like crazy.

the first few inches could be felt resting at the lower section of your stomach, even causing a slight bulge in the skin.

burrowed over you like he had hit a second wind. Your freshly done toes curling up near his chest.

the deep penetration prompting you to squirt intermittently as well.

you'd make an attempt to push him back, tapping his abs; begging for him to feel merciful and slow down but that was pretty futile..

"Okaaay! Daddy, I'm sorry!—fuck.."

"Nah, shut that shit up..you wasn't sorry when you had your lil' attitude so take it."

it was obvious that he had no empathy for your tearful pleas and whining because you brought this upon yourself.

the bed began to rock, headboard slamming against the wall with all of his force. His demeanor shifting to one of a more aggressive one so you knew he had to be close.

"And move your hand, I'm not playing with you!...."

a clear indication not to test his patience anymore. By the time he finished, you'd have no doubt where his heart and body belonged.

huffing and breathing heavily, Connie burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, moaning into your ear so helplessly and vulnerably.

and you'd return them.

"You want me to come for you, baby? You want the rest of this nut?"

"Yes, baby! Give it to me.."

that toy was still spinning around your flesh and you had squeezed so tightly that he had to stop before he filled you up yet again..

unable to keep hold to it, he'd toss the vibrator aside and pull out just in time.

grasping your hair, he'd tug you to the floor in front of the bed, positioning you in a squat underneath him.

"Stick that tongue out..look up at me."

(Y/N) bent down and put your tongue on display; his grasp remaining on your hair as he tugged you closer.

that's when he'd start stroking his shaft, jerking himself off into your open mouth. Along with that white, warm seed spilling out, as did his loud grunts and curse words.

"Fuck! Fuckkkkk..."

from your closed eyes, lips, breasts and entire face became splattered with that sticky cream; contrasting with your beautiful brown complexion.

he had managed to empty himself all over your features and you were grinning from ear to ear, proudly wearing it and tasting the sweet remnants.

clutching your chin, Connie tilted your head up, observing his work.

"Look at that pretty ass smile..you still mad at me?"

shaking your head no, that seemed to be an acceptable answer to him.

"That's all I want. I love you and you better not forgot that shit again.." bending down to trap you in another warm kiss.

"I love you too.." letting him know that you'd never give him a hard time again.

he definitely wasn't something you wanted to quit anytime soon.

#black fem reader #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #smut fanfiction #anime #black reader #black reader smut #aot x black reader #attack on titan #connie attack on titan #connie aot #aot boys #connie x black reader #connie springer #connie smut #connie #aot smut #aot au #plug #aot headcanons #aot x y/n #attack on titan smut #wattpad #fanfic

[mixes-archive]

König NSFW Alphabet 😊

Requested by: my bbgs and a lot of simps. In all my time as an archivist (maybe a few months at best), I haven't seen something requested as much as this.

This is mostly gender neutral and includes stuff for both afab and amab readers

A = Aftercare

(what they’re like after sex)

"Ach du heilige... Schatz, geht's dir eh gut?"¹

Very worried.

No matter if he's been top or bottom, dom or sub, gentle or rough, he'll be so worried he hurt you in any way.

Give you a quick massage and clean you up. Depending on if you're doing anything after, he'll either take a bath with you or just a brief shower.

B = Body part

(their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He really likes his arms, mans trained years for his muscles to be as defined as they are and being able to carry you with them just gives him a real boost of confidence.

Is weak to your thighs <3 Could spend hours just laying on or massaging them.

C = Cum

(anything to do with cum, basically)

Yum yum in his tum tum😋🍽️

No matter how he made you cum, mans will absolutely devour that shit, no exceptions.

D = Dirty secret

(pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

AFAB: Would love for you to sit on his face while his mask is on, just imagining feeling you through the fabric and how you soak through it makes him hard

AMAB: sucking you off with the mask on, half the fabric draped over your stomach, hiding his next move and having to look directly into his eyes. He gets weak in the knees at the thought.

E = Experience

(how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Man had zero rizz in his childhood, you're his first everything actually. If you don't have any experience either, you're kinda fucked lmao

F = Favorite position

(this goes without saying)

Any with direct eye contact, or you being on top of him.

G = Goofy

(are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's funny, but not intentionally. He's really creative when it comes to swears, so it's easy to make you giggle with them.

H = Hair

(how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Bald or something, I don't know how this works with men and I am NOT about to Google it.

I = Intimacy

(how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

König is dropping all the nicknames he can think off, constantly caressing your face or body. He'll also try to set the mood as best as possible beforehand.

J = Jack off

(masturbation headcanon)

Does it a lot tbh. He's big big and knows it can affect you for a few days after, so he'll only fuck you if you ask.

K = Kink

(one or more of their kinks)

Mask kink, size kink, praise kink goings both ways. What else is there? Oh yeah.

This man definitely has a mommy kink, you cannot convince me otherwise.

L = Location

(favorite places to do the do)

Probably the couch or the bathtub, he isn't into other people potentially seeing you at all.

M = Motivation

(what turns them on, gets them going)

You. That's it. You could be wearing a hoodie that should've been washed long ago and he'd go "omg I'd hit"

N = No

(something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything to do with degredation. Doesn't like insulting you and likes being insulted even less.

O = Oral

(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

König would willingly be between your thighs until his lungs give out. He's really big, so this is the best option in his opinion. (also just really into the way you react to him and your taste).

Would only let you suck him off occasionally and after a loooonnggg while of being in a relationship. You'd have to beg him to do it lmao

P = Pace

(are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

König likes being slow and hitting all the right spots, but he can speed up if you ask politely enough. Much prefers to go slow in a borderline teasing way tbh.

Q = Quickie

(their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Prefers taking his time, but with how packed your schedules can be, there's not really another option. Sometimes when you're on a long term mission, you get so desperate you have a quickie, but that's the last resort.

R = Risk

(are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes and no. He'd like to experiment with you a bit, but there are just some things he wouldn't do like public sex, non-con, etc...

S = Stamina

(how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

König lasts for HOURS. This is a trained military man, his stamina is through the roof and on its way to space. You could be panting, struggling to catch your breath or move, and he'll ask if you want another round.

T = Toys

(do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Didn't see the sense in toys before meeting you, but he has a small bullet vibrator for you stashed away somewhere.

U = Unfair

(how much they like to tease)

When he gets the opportunity, he does like to tease a little. Would stop if you ask though.

V = Volume

(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Swears a lot. Like a lot a lot. He's still more vocal than you'd expect otherwise. Lots of grunts and moans between the swears.

W = Wild card

(a random headcanon for the character)

You wore thigh highs once and he can't get enough of them now. He tends to rip them, but is constantly buying new ones to make up for it.

X = X-ray

(let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big. Too big, perhaps. Long and girthy. Have fun getting that anywhere in you.

Y = Yearning

(how high is their sex drive?)

Very high, is down to clown almost every single day. And with that I mean he just wants to make you scream his name so loud the squad members become concerned he's holding you hostage.

Z = Zzz

(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Honesty, he's more awake after than he was before. Makes him feel like he just injected five shots of espresso right into his veins.

¹ "Holy... Treasure, are you okay?"

A/N: Being a lesbian in this economy is hard, but I'll gladly take the L so you can all continue to simp for the only relevant austrian representation in this day and age

#könig x reader #call of duty x reader #konig x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #könig call of duty

[tragedy-of-commons]

olderbrother!sampo hcs

nobody asked but BOY am i going to deliver. if u don't like him, that is completely fair. however i think he's just the silliest dude!! i don't think there's any info on his family or parents, so.. he's big brother or NOTHING

✧ since your big brother has made, ahem, a name for himself among the overworld and underworld, you are also famous by proxy! this is cool whenever wildfire members ruffle your hair sympathetically, but not so cool when you're getting glares from overworlders.

✧ silvermane guards and those in the upper echelons of belobog law enforcement spitefully refer to you as "little koski" or even "mini koski". it's a fact that sampo is not gonna allow you to forget anytime soon. whenever you and him are arguing, he smugly obliterates any valid points you have with an "okay, mini koski. taking after me, eh?" ASSHOLEEE /aff

✧ you are the only person he completely trusts to not snitch on him, biological sibling or not. he taught you well, and if you ever get detained, he taught you exactly what to say and when to say it to get off easy.

✧ even if you're eager, sampo won't allow you to come with him on a trip or excursion if it's too dangerous - he'd rather throw in the towel altogether than to see you harmed beyond repair.

✧ growing up, he definitely started teaching life lessons and life skills (just ignore the ethics tehe) when you were young. because of him, you know when someone's overcharging for a product, low-balling you, the logistics of illicit business, and how to take care of yourself.

✧ he often uses you as distractions if you're pulling off a heist or something together 😭 when he was stealing all that shit from the overworld's museum, he had you distract the volunteers by juggling while wearing an outworlder disguise. (sampo learned to juggle because of his affiliation with the masked fools or something. i mean, it worked, so the cartoonish lessons from him paid off, you suppose.)

✧ you were both crudely pictured on the wanted posters together. sampo ripped it off of the bulletin board and brought it home so you could frame it. literally partners in crime.

✧ he's built like one of those grizzly robots, so he'd be able to give you as many piggyback rides as you want.

#✧ my musings #platonic sampo x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr headcanons #platonic hsr x reader #sampo x reader #hsr sampo x reader #<- but #yk #platonic

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Fall Drabbles, Day 2

prompt: "Are you cold"

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: Matt waits patiently for you to admit he was right.

warnings: swearing, adorable fluff

a/n: I had so much fun writing this one. I hope y'all enjoy.

w/c: <1k

Bracing yourself for the bitter chill of the wind, you couldn't help the shudder that overtook you as the hair on your arms rose. You didn't need to glance at Matt to see his smirk, you could feel it--directed at you like a goddamn laser, searing the words 'I told you so' into the back of your head. 

“Don't even say it.” You grumbled, crossing your arms in a desperate attempt to retain the brief warmth the subway had provided. 

“Say what?” Matt asked innocently, mirth dancing across his face. With a huff you stalked ahead of him towards the stairs, leaving him to his own devices as you both exited the stop.

Tonight was date night, the first you'd had in nearly a month. The two of you had been swamped recently--Matt with work and deviling, you with travel and family drama. Tonight should have been a much appreciated reprieve from the mundanity of your day to day life, and it was, until the sun went down. 

Matt, in his all-knowing glory, had warned you that the gorgeous autumn day would give way to a crisp evening, encouraging you to wear a jacket to fight off the frigid air. Putting WAY too much faith in your midwestern heritage, you had simply laughed. “It's 65 out, Matty. Practically swimming weather.” 

Cursing your past self's lack of foresight, you shivered miserably against the blasting current of night air. You and your boyfriend had enjoyed a delicious dinner and were headed to a candlelit orchestra performance in the park.  Wearing nothing but a flattering, thin-sleeved, dress, you were quickly losing steam—but you would rather freeze than admit your mistake to your cocky partner. His ego didn't need the boost.

Catching up to you and taking your arm, Matt's fingers slid into the crook of your tense elbow. How was he so WARM? Sure, he HAD worn a jacket but it was disgusting out here! It couldn't have been over 35. Ugh, curse him and his tendency to run hot. It made the thought of cuddling up to him so tempting. His beautiful hands tracing soft patterns along your skin as you slowly thawed from his body heat...

No. Stay strong. You can do this. 

The two of you finally arrived at the venue for the performance--- unfortunately, the seats were not only outside but crafted with stainless steel. Their shining material sapping the remaining warmth from your skin mere seconds after sitting down. You set your jaw and tucked your body in as tight as you could without drawing the attention of your overly perceptive boyfriend. And it worked...for the first half of the performance. 

By the intermission, even the strength of your resolve couldn't keep your teeth from chattering violently. Matt looked at you, with more concern than you were expecting. “Sweetheart, if you need to leave—”

You shook your head defiantly. “I'm-m f-fine.” You stammered, tightening your jaw once more. 

Shaking his head at you, Matt huddled closer to you. ”You're clearly miserable, let's go home.“

Sighing in defeat, you dropped your trembling head against his shoulder, sinking into the cloud of heat around him. ”I'm c-cold, Matty.“

The shit-eating grin reappeared across his face. ”What was that? Are you cold?“

Elbowing his stomach, you glowered at the stage. ”Shut-t up.“ Moments after your reluctant admission, a heavenly warm garment was slipped over your shoulders. 

Exhaling with relief, you nestled into his side. “Thank you.”

“Of course, darling.”

“I'll wear a coat next time.”

Matt laughed at your empty promise, knowing damn well that he'd be giving you his jacket again and again this fall—and he wouldn't have it any other way.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x you #charlie cox #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanart #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock my beloved #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fic #daredevil mcu #daredevil netflix #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #netflix daredevil #my writing #mm #fall prompts 2023

[missn00tson]

Yoo Wooin headcanons

Hi, the Wooin landscape is barren af, so Im here to offer my headcanons abt him.

Hope you enjoy!

Nb!Reader

Sfw:

He's Bi, or def fruity in some shape or form.

I once read abt him being in a poly relationship and it has been ingraved in my mind ever since.

Def the type of guy to do a lot of pda. He likes to slap your ass in public, a lot. He's not the type of guy to be gentlemanly and open the door for you, but when he does he will slap your ass as he enters after you.

How comfortable he is with you changes a lot about how he acts with you. When you've been a thing or sortof thing for a long time he will get less... annoying? Dont get me wrong, he's still a litle shit but shows more of a caring side of his. It also ups his aftercare, like, he doesn't leave u or kick u out right after sex.

True to the story he's a little shit always up to somthing, and up for anything. He'd prolly not think twice if you suggest to do smth strange or dangerous.

Would spoil u excessively w gifts. I cant promise u theyre pretty (you have seen his fashion style, its not for everyone) but they will be expensive for sure.

Buys you matching clothes and expects you to wear them so he can show you off.

Will ask you to draw anything and get it tattooed. No mater how good your drawing skills r, if u can hold a pen you're good.

He's pretty good at drawing himself, but just like the rest of him his drawing style is rather... unique. He had been interested in becoming a tattoo artist for a while, and would become one if he didnt get as much money from illegal activities as he does.

Would do drugs and other types of substances with you for fun. He especially loves doing it before and after you've fucked.

He has the most obnoxious alarm ever (if he even feels like getting anywhere on time) and takes too damn long to turn it off.

Types with the most incoherent text messages ever. His texts r abbreviations from hell and as short as they can be. The only emojys he uses r 😎 and 🖕🏻

If you use the middle finger emoji tho he'll tell u it means u have a small dick just to annoy you.

Leaves you on read when you dont ask for a specific answer. He wont answer with an "okay" or anything either.

Would randomly call u at 3am and ask u if he was with u last night when the cops ask him for an alibi. It doesnt matter if he did it or not, he'd lie.

Dont expect him to cook. If you're eating at home it's just simple cupnoodles, otherwise he goes to eat out for every meal.

The guy walks so. Tremendously. slow. Like, showing off walking all badassly but walking slow like a SNAIL

Has the most annoying morning alarm ever (if he even feels like getting somewhere on time) and takes an eternity to turn it off.

Doesn't include you in his job, but isnt super secretive or apologetic abt it at all either.

He's total shit at talking about his feeling other than "annoyed" and "horny", same goes for consoling you about yours.

When you're not close yet he will most likely leave you to yourself as he has no clue how to deal with it other than letting it pass. He might offer you to do something you like to put your mind off it.

If you're more of a serious (for how serious it can be) thing he will try to console u in his own way. He will stay by your side, most likely uncomfortably staring in the distance until u tell him what you want him to do.

Strangely so, these are the moments where he's uncharcyeristicallt distant. Usually he's a guy with 0 personal space but then he just lets you be until he gets told otherwise (sounds submissive to me ahEm-)

If your just a bit down (and he has outruled the possibility that you're mad at him, so you wont atack him outta nowhere) he will try to cheer u up with stupid dirty jokes.

Nsfw:

Would be into crossdressing. More so himself than his partner, but I can see him wearing a short skirt for shits nd giggles once and realizing things abt himself.

Looooves doggy style. Esp when he tops. He loves watching himself sliding in and out of you while you fuck, it just awakens something inside of him.

Would be the type to push u deeper while youre giving him head.

As an adrenaline junky he loves the idea of fucking and teasing in public. Even better if someone else watches.

Def some sort of sadist. He esp loves hour long edging followed by overstimulation. (I dont make the rules. I do but I dont :)

Loves the idea of phone sex, until he gets too horny and wants to do it himself.

But moments like those r the easiest moments to dom him. Yes, he's a switch, a brat for sure.

Even if he doesnt like to admit it, during spicy time is the only moment ur allowed to order him around and having a chance of him listening.

Dont overdo it tho, if he doesnt feel completely at ease w u yet he'll snap right out of it again (esp when he was planning on domming) and rail u even harder.

His rythm is slow and teasing at first, trying to tick you off, but as his own high nears he rams into you with short but quick thrusts.

Continues to fuck you even after you both came, enjoying the pain it gives him and the strangled moans and grunts tou let out.

Loves it when you beg. He loves feeling superior and being worshipped.

Though when hes subbing. Degradation kink. Im telling you. D e g r a d a t i o n

Hes not a gentle guy, he get turned on by seeing your tear stained face. He'd lick off the drops while he's pounding inside of you, wishing you'd cry more.

When he praises you he'll always degrade you at the same time, often using degrading nicknames. "Such a pretty slut for me" "This pathetic doll is taking me so well, aren't they?"

Loves when you bite and scratch him. It sends him straight over the edge when you scratch his back while he's fucking you.

Especially when he's bottoming he loves it when you leave bite marks allover him. On his neck, hut also his inner tighs make him weak in the knees.

You can bite down pretty deeply. If it draws blood, he'll slightly spread his legs further for you to lick it off.

Loves it when you moan around his cock.

Def a hair puller while recieving head, bobbing your head forcefully up and down making you gag.

He asks you to show your tongue after you've swallowed.

Loves calling you "my good slut"

Enjoys having his hands tied back while you ride him. He loves the way you body bounces while you move atop of him while he strains his hands in his cuffs.

He loves when you use him, ignoring his needs and pleasuring yourself.

The idea of his partners useing him while he's tied up and gagged, unable to stop them from edging and overstimulating him. One on top of him and the other eyeing them like a predator. Man that's maybe even better then drugs for him.

He loves hunting. Whether it's chasing you in a haunted house before taking you against the wall or you chasing him before making him crumble under your fingers.

Even though he's a shit, he knows the importance of knowing what your partner wants, and he'd make sure to get to know your prefrences beforehand. After all, what fun would it be if you're not up to do what he wants?

Aftercare after quickies is rare but when you have played a scene with him he will help you clean up and ask you about your opinion of the scene.

He knows no personal space. He cuddles with you until you both fall asleep, but leaves in the morning after showering and eating. (ofc depending on how close u are. If it's just a one night stand he leaves for sure, unless u put some magic on him. If youre more of a regular thing he'd make himself comfortable until u wake up and leave afterwards)

I have no clue how many words this is, but thank you for reading! :)

IHis lips also look so pink and juicy in the newest chapters, did he buy him some lipgloss or smthh?? I love itttt

#Yoo Wooin #Wooin #wooin windbreaker #Wooin headcanons #Woonin #windbreaker #windbreaker wooin #Windbreaker headcanons #nb!reader #Sfw

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT ; you ride a bike

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, & quackity

warnings ; language

I love passenger princessing my mom on her trike so here's this

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he's absolutely mortified to get on the back with you at first

you convince him to just ride him around the neighborhood nice and slow and he over time gets used to it because you suggest going short distances on it rather than taking a bus and stuff

he grows on it though

his helmet has some stickers on it, one literally says tommyinnit.store in bold font 💀💀💀

either holds on the sidebars thatre there for him to hold or around your waist

he finds the wind against him therapeutic

the butterflies when you turn around and ask if he's okay, especially when it's dark and cold

constantly snapping jack, freddie & tubbo pictures of him on your bike/riding around with you/where you go

posts a lot of pictures on his Instagram

most of them are you & the scenery

"do you wanna learn how to drive a bike?"

"no???"

he unironically loves shouting at shit drivers who cut you off or try to get you killed

"WATCH IT ASSHOLE! YOU ALMOST GOT US KILLED, USE A BLINKER NEXT TIME!"

loves going over bridges

if he has somewhere to be after a ride, he'll gladly show up with his hair a mess and ass hurting since you need to put a few more pounds of air in his seat LMAO

"okay, so-"

"Tommy, why are you limping?"

TUBBO

idk if that pic of him w the bike & helmet is real or means that he actually knows how to drive a bike but shit

he'd probably be the one to ask you if he could jump on the back before you left to ride with some friends

you obviously said of course bc you had an extra helmet laying around

he loved it lmao

he loved the air against his face and how fresh it felt

even if the backroads you took were 99% trees, they kept him entertained because he'd never been down them/rarely goes down them bc why would he

loves taking pictures of you + the scenery

religiously posts pictures on his Instagram

you went to a sunflower field together and he constantly looks over those pictures because it was just so beautiful

only has a couple stickers on his helmet, he seems like the type to overthink stickers (same)

likes holding out his arms on straight roads like a bird

loves going out at night, the lights are so awesome to him

asks you to go over/find more bridges lmao

RANBOO

he's 50/50 on being scared and wanting to get on with you

they man up and just do it after lots of reassuring

so many pictures lmao

litters his helmet with stickers and white marker doodles

has a sticker of the boober particle + one that just says ranboo.fashion in comic sans

he finds the air against him very therapeutic

loves going down backroads and finding new restaurants

always taking pictures, mostly of you

loves wearing his R800 jacket cause it keeps him warm + free promo

makes "I'll jump off rn" jokes

likes spreading his arms out like an eagle and will yell over the engine LMAO

loves bumps even though they'll hurt immediately after

FREDDIE BADLINU

you ask if he wants to come and he shrugs with a yeah

his first ride was at night so he got to enjoy all the lights and night life

takes a bunch of pictures and videos and sends them to Bill or Tommy

changes his insta bio to "my biker partners passenger prince" + bonus points if that's how he softlaunches your relationship

convinces you to go through a drive thru

eating lunch in the sun was a 10/10, will do it again

takes some cute pictures at stops/lights where he's leaning onto you a bit and he holds the phone in front of you to get both of you

wears dumbass hoodies/jackets w the dumb shit on the back to make ppl look at him weird or smile a bit

he'll show up to Tommy's live show (part of the bit) with messy hair and come on stage and tommy will look at him confused

Freddie asks him what's wrong and tommy just points and circles around his hair and the crowd laughs

"I was with my partner"

cue the laughing

"wait what?" Tommy laughs

"we were riding around the city before we got here, sorry"

NIKI NIHACHU

she thinks it's so cool, trust me

but like Tommy, she's very nervous to get on at first

you take her for a little ride around a parking lot and she's like "Okay I liked that let's actually go now"

her helmet has all sorts of stickers on it, but they're placed to look cool

there's a snake hide looking one down the middle and some cool patterned ones on the sides

she loves the wind in her hair and the feeling of being free

loves taking pictures of the scenery and even using you as a model

loves posting those pictures online for her fans to see

her editor fans always edit the pictures you two take together when you're out and about and whatnot it's so cool

you custom made her a leather jacket that fit her aesthetic

and she's super attached to it

she'll change her insta bio to "that one biker chicks girlfriend" LMAO

she spoils you like you're the one with the large social media platform its adorable

ALEX QUACKITY

"SINCE WHEN THE HELL DID YOU RIDE A BIKE???"

he thinks it's really badass tho

he'll gladly jump on with you

he's honestly scared after getting on but loses the fear pretty quickly

lovesss holding his arms out like a bird it's so fun to him

constantly asking you to tighten his helmet LMFAO

he finds it really entertaining in general

although if he's not wearing a full face covering helmet and wearing one of the head covering ones, you'll have to listen to his wailing later

his hair isn't long enough to completely pull back and the wind obviously tangles it up bad

so you gotta sit him down and try and carefully like de-matte his hair

he loves taking pictures and posting them tho, especially ones of you LMAO

sometimes he'll go the extra mile to give it a corny caption too

you change his insta bio to "passenger prince of the year"

always feels a little special and giggly when you ask if he's okay, especially when it's getting darker and much colder

"I told you to just wear the-"

"I know! please just do it for me! it hurts!"

"either grow your hair out or wear the other, lex"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #tubbo x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader