#feel free to add more if you like!! i’d love to see why you love it too ;o;

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I’ve read a variation of soft and rough König and I’ve enjoyed both but I’d love to see your take on his character.

I can’t deny I have a preference for soft König. I think his size is a major concern, especially if his partner is on the smaller side, which leads me to believe he’d prolong the inevitable and the pining and anticipation would be off the charts on his end. But maybe his SO thinks he’s not as interested as she initially thought.

Add in the fact that he’s gone for long periods of time in which there is little or no communication and perhaps she considers moving on. The ol’ miscommunication trope if you will, with a happy ending. Thanks!

Overflow the Stars

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Synopsis: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Angst, feelings of insecurity, body issues, allusions to König's past w. bullying & his anxiety, size difference, fluff, soft!König, happy ending

A/N: This is my apology to the German-speaking people out there - I think I butchered your language (feel free to correct me). I'm so sorry lmfao. But, Anon, this request was adorable to write, hope you enjoy it!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wanted to say you were surprised when he didn't show up – really, you did – but in the back of your mind, you already knew he wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel disappointed when you swirled your tiny cup of Franziskaner tensely, watching the whipped cream sink away into the concoction of dark espresso and milk; calling attention to the same feeling in your chest.

König had a strange habit as of late, and with a delicate furrow in your brow and perhaps even a smidge of sadness in your eyes, you wondered what you had done wrong. Why had he been avoiding you so…violently? While you wouldn’t have called yourself perfect by any means, nothing you had done over the course of your meetings was strange or downright embarrassing. 

You admitted that the man had never been the type to run away from something, and sighed as you brought the cup to your lips and sipped. Caffeine sits on your tongue along with a bitter revelation as the rain begins to pick up in velocity outside. The small and quiet café where you’re spending your afternoon is warm and unburdened by the weather. 

Do you think…he’s even interested in me anymore? The sharp thought brings a pang to your chest, fingers over the warm cup flinching back as if struck with lightning. O-or he doesn’t like being around me?

Your relationship was still new, very new, and if you were asked you would say it wasn’t even dating yet. König hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend. 

But it had still been going well.

“Or so I thought,” you take a breath, watching the fog on the window as the streets of Vienna are rapidly being emptied of tourists and locals alike. Your shoulders are painfully tight.

Aggressive rainfall like this into the cold seasons was unusual, but it wasn’t like mother nature cared about the whims of anyone but herself. It’ll freeze overnight, leaving a bitter chill that puffs from breaths and a shaky few steps out the door across hardened ice. You’d probably go out – alone – for a walk in the morning to clear your head, or try, at any rate.

Lately, all you could think about was the bear of a man that was supposed to be sitting in the empty seat ahead of you. The cursed wooden chair burns your eyes; its dark wood and red cushion stab your vision over and over until you’re sure you’ll bleed tears instead of water. 

He was supposed to be here.

Taking another shaky sip of your drink, one that König had recommended to you himself a few dates ago, the brief moments of warmth it brings to your bones does little to satisfy you. You doubted anything short of a hulking figure trying to stick their knees under the small table could do just that.

The giant man you called your possible future boyfriend was avoiding you, and your subconscious was breaking itself to try and understand why. As if that gracious plea had been heard above the glossiness of your eyes and the gentle hum of the café workers who shuffle about, the phone in your pocket jumps. 

You don’t want to admit how fast your hand snapped to your thigh, sneaking under the layers to draw out black metal. A single link to König when he was overseas or out of sight that you were told was unwise to use. He was rarely able to answer you, but for what it was worth, he always tried to call back later. 

Even if recently, it had been a brief state of events. 

“I-I can’t talk right now–”

“Forgive me–”

Your lips thin.

Pulling the phone out, you immediately look at the contact, though you already know the message before you read it. The sunken whipped cream finally falls under deep chocolate-colored waves.

“Sorry, Bӓrchen, I’m stuck in the building for the day! I swear I’ll make it up to you for missing–” You don’t bother reading the rest, thumb already scrolling upward to see the numerous times other excuses have been made. 

His parents were needing some help moving furniture, he was drowning in post-operation reports, or simply just too tired. You weren't stupid. But every time you had stuffed down your pride and responded cheerfully, dressed to the nines and standing in your living room while your fingers shook over the keys.

Holding back tears. 

It would hurt less if he’d just tell you to your face what you were thinking. Maybe all of this was just… 

Your thoughts trail off. 

But that didn’t make sense – König was never malicious!

Placing down the phone, you leave him on read, feeling the pitying eyes of the baristas burning into your skin like a brand. They knew as well as you did that he wasn’t showing up.

When he calls sometime later, you shut the device off completely. Staring out the window at the dimming light, you lean your head into the glass and try not to cry as you watch couples rushing for cover from the rain; laughing and holding the other close. 

The empty chair stays motionless in the corner of your eye.

—

The first time you met König, you were left gaping at the sheer size of him. 

Towering over ninety percent of the other patrons in the art shop, he had looked down at the package of charcoal pencils in his large, scarred, hands. Turning them over to read the description on the back like an expert with delicate eyelashes that you’d kill for. 

You yourself had been cast in his shadow quite by accident, looking along expansive shelves for a sketchbook – your friend had gotten into a watercolor phase lately, and what better to give her than a birthday present she could actually use? The only problem was that you had no idea what was considered good quality or not, but had a strange suspicion the man beside you did. But what a happy accident it all turned out to be.

König had a black surgical mask on, but the milky-white scar that ran up his right eyebrow and disappeared into his auburn hairline was still starkly visible. Expressive dark eyes blink down at his object from a surprising height. Between picking up multiple books, running your fingers over the paper and whatnot, you can’t help but stare at the pure strength the man emanates. Compared to you, he was utterly gargantuan in both mass and height. A bear and a bee, you thought with a stifled giggle.

He blatantly appeared to know more about this stuff than you did as he placed the charcoal pack down and picked up another.  

“Erm,” you begin, and his head snaps down to yours immediately, head of hair falling into gentle curls near the ears. He had looked partially surprised to hear you speak to him, and his eyes had flickered around instinctually. But it was only the two of you in the aisle. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but you seem to know a helluva lot more than me about art supplies.” Your voice was cautious, and you were afraid you’d seem rude for disturbing him, but all he did was stare and wait for you to finish speaking. Feet every so often shifting, or his hands twitching as if he never was able to stay still; he blinks a few times like a rabbit. “Any suggestions for watercolor?” A small laugh meets the air as you move your hand to show off the wall of possible options for paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up – thought I’d get her something she’d actually use this year. She wasn't too enthralled with the plant I got her for her twenty-third. Killed the thing in a week.” 

A nervous chuckle is softly met and your face heated as his own did. There’s a moment of a clearing throat before the man nods carefully, and the sparse freckles over his forehead shift. His biceps flex.

“O-of course, Ma’am,” his accent is quite strong, and you like the guttural raspiness of his tone. “I prefer Saunders Waterford, though I don’t manage to use it often. Better, eh, was ist das Wort?” He stumbles for a moment over the proper descriptor. “Beständig. Durable.”

A tilt of his head later, and you’re beaming, picking up the large pad with careful fingers, testing the weight in your palms as one would an apple. 

“Wonderful! It looks like I owe you one, eh?” Looking back up, you watch his eyes widen as you notice him blatantly staring. Face crinkling into a shy display of heat and curiosity, he slightly moves back, a large hand going to scratch at the base of his neck as his sweatshirt bunches. 

Chest tight, you stick out a hand and offer your name with a smile. It was only customary, but the action was pure instinct more than thought-out. All the while restraining a shiver, his limb encompasses yours so completely and radiates a large amount of heat.

“A pleasure,” your voice wavers, but it’s not so much nervousness as it is genuine intrigue. For a man so blessed with the tall gene, he really had a considerate hold – barely squeezing your skin in fear it would break. 

The action makes your chest squeeze.

“Ah, guten tag,” he utters, nodding with a firm shake, though his eyelashes caress his cheeks as his eyes rove away, “König.” 

A bit awkward, isn’t he? You have to ask yourself. Not that it was a bad thing – in fact, you found the nervous tensing of his thighs to be cute, along with that red tinge that was over his pale ears. So very opposite of how you expected him to act.

That was when you noticed the dog tags, as well, though you found no purpose to say anything. But everything about this man had caught your attention as a large billboard would, and the comparison has you practically bending in laughter. He probably could be a billboard with a build like that. No doubt he’d catch a lot of attention.

You tilt your head and release his hand, nodding to König’s charcoal pencils. 

“I bet you can make some killer drawings with those things, huh?” The beast twists them in his hand and turns down to stare at the supplies as if he’d forgotten they’d been there at all. “You draw often?”

“Ja,” his eyes brighten, and the crinkling of his eyes tells you that a small smile pulls at his lips. “Whenever I’m able. I,” König pauses before his shoulders move in a soft movement akin to a shrug. “I…find it calming.” 

Your ribs move in reaction to an interested sound. 

A bear that likes to draw.

“You’re better than me, I’d just get frustrated if something doesn’t look right.” A deep laugh echoes off the shelves before a lapsing silence settles like a bird’s wings. Overcome by a sudden urge to speak, yet having no other words to say, König’s voice meets your ears before you can find something to say.

It’s slow, the tone, bathed in hesitation and even a smidgen of armor; like the outcome of your response was already measured and taken as null compared to the giant’s own thoughts.

“I…don’t suppose I could show you some if you’d be interested.” At your widening lids, his twitching hands come up to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as a vermilion hue blossoms like a flower over his visible skin. Dark eyes like broken obsidian pay more attention to your shoes than your face.

“N-not, eh, scheiße, I only meant I–” Watching him stutter was similar to what a high schooler would do when he was called out during an assembly. Though, your giggle makes him clear his throat and pause with a stiffening spreading to his legs. His body seems to deflate, taking your reverence for his soft inward nature as making fun or at worse, a blatant rejection. The delicate makeup of his psyche was on display, though you didn’t know. “I’m…I’m sorry, Ma’am–”

“I’d love to see your artwork, König,” you begin, pulling the watercolor pad closer to your body instinctually, cheeks hot. The man perks up, and you can see his heart hammering through his clothes when his eyes blaze with light. “How about I give you my number and I’ll text you a day I’m free and we can work something out? A local café or library sound good?”

“I…yes, that sounds wonderful.”

—

You throw your soaked coat on the hook as you shut the door, hating how the frigid rainwater had wetted your hair, though still holding it as a blessing. At least no one could see the tear tracks as you walked back to your apartment. 

Kicking off heavy boots and peeling the slick layers of fabric from your chest with a sloping sound, you flick on the lights with a shaking finger and a sniffle. Wet footprints are left over the rugs and hardwood as the phantom shuffles over them, beelining to the bathroom to strip. 

Your mind was preoccupied as you slipped out of heavy fabric, the pile already on the floor creating a large puddle that you threw a towel on and left as it was. 

“He…he’d tell me if he didn’t like me anymore, right?” Whispering, the broken words meet air as you toss on a large shirt – the hem meeting your knees as a pair of thick sweatpants follow. 

Quite the look for someone who was having an internal battle. Your friends would say you looked like you were minutes away from grabbing a tub of ice cream and sobbing over a rom-com. The quick-witted part of you confessed that the idea wasn’t even that bad if you threw in a glass of beer. Preferably the shitty kind so you could complain about it and distract yourself.

“Get it together…” You would not cry over a guy that hadn’t even asked you out officially, but with that familiar sting in the back of your eyes, you hissed that König wasn’t just any guy.

You’d really liked him, and for what it was worth, your heart would have exploded if he had asked you out. 

He was kind – respectful. Utterly adorable when he was speaking so passionately about his artwork and his parents who he held on a larger-than-life pedestal. König’s heart was just as big as his body, that gorgeous, bear-like body, and…oh, you’d wished he would like you just as much as you liked him. 

Before you could stop the wave of hopelessness, the tears were already dribbling down your face, and the dark apartment was echoing with the barely-there sobs that hit the walls.

—

When you hadn’t answered him in the next two hours and his calls were going to voicemail, König was hit with a train’s worth of worry. Feet tapping faster than unusual and eyes were finicky as they passed over documents.

Although his contract with KorTac wasn’t exactly like his own had been in the military, the hyper-vigilance was still ingrained bones-deep. The Austrian man held his personal relationships tightly – and if someone wasn’t answering him, the anxiety reserved for large, uncontrollable, crowds reared its ugly head. König wasn’t sure when it had happened, but you had entered that loyal group consisting of his parents and a few work friends in an incredibly small amount of time. 

He really should have bit the bullet and gone out with you today, the man acknowledged as he slipped out of his office and tried once more to get in contact with you. König watched the icon of your smiling face go straight to the familiar voice that in any other circumstance, he would have wanted to listen another moment too.

“...Thanks for calling! I’m not able to speak with you right now, but go ahead and leave a message–”

“Come on, Bӓrchen.” König lightly growls, hanging up and stuffing the infernal device into his cargo pant’s side pocket. 

His usually hidden face was twisted up with worry, so commonly lit with bloodlust on Ops now left in a state of unknown. It was stupid to think like this, but how could he not? In such a small amount of time, you’d made him fall for you like a bird does the sky; that thin line between falling and flying caught underwing. 

That was why he’d been making excuses, you see. 

You were so…good…that he’d been worried about the way he carried himself; second-guessed small actions like a hand on the small of your back in public, or a comment about how nice you looked. 

Did she take that the wrong way?

Why did I tell her that?

I hope she doesn’t think that I’m rude…

You were messing with his mind with every turn, but it wasn’t even all that, either. His size also played a part. Your form was so small as it trailed beside him on walks through the city – it fit in the clutch of his arm easily. 

König was just scared he might break you, he’s never had to be…gentle so often before. It was against everything he’d been taught in the last decade or so.

Pushing open the front door of the KorTac: Private Military Contractor building, the man pushes on with a frown over his scarred lips and a drawn-in expression. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten his surgical mask in his office, along with a jacket, and braved the volatile winds and slapping rain in a slight jog, an athletic shirt tight across his chest. 

By the time he’d reached your apartment building, his hair was dark and stuck to his skin, slight puffs of breath escaping his lips and wracking shivers along his spine. König ascended the stairs in double steps, agile as his heart pounded. 

Being ex-military left him with an undeniable state of readiness.

With heavy knuckles and panting breath, his hand quickly rasps against the door, and after a second of no sound, he does it again. 

“Bӓrchen, it’s me. Are you there?” König’s shoulders are set, ready to batter the door down at the barest hint of something wrong. He calls your name but like a voice on the wind, there’s no answer. Not even a shadow under the barrier, a whiff of your shampoo.

Grunting, strained eyes going grim, the man’s hand encompasses the handle, arm and body going parallel to the wood. His hips tense, feet grinding over the floor as they set. But the nearly missed footsteps that his ears twitched at gives him pause. 

After a few moments of intense listening, his body stone-stiff and eyes spaced out, there’s a clicking of a lock. 

König moves back swiftly, hands going to rest at his sides, and when your face graces his vision, a large weight is lifted. Until he realizes that your eyes are red-rimmed. His lids go startlingly wide, fingers coming up to curl into themselves near his middle, but you speak before he does.

With a hatred for interrupting others, König keeps his lips sealed and watches with a concerned once-over and nervous lungs.

Your hand is clenched over the door frame, the muscle of your tongue licking at your lips as beads of water fall from your locks. 

“What are you doing here, König?” With a voice more hoarse and dry than a desert. The man itches at the side of his hawk nose, hesitant about what he sees. 

You’d never been like this before – always so happy. 

“I…” He trails off quietly, seeing your eyes unwilling to meet his own. “Are you…alright?” 

The Austrian’s fingers jerk when you laugh, and a surprised blink later he’s coming closer to check on you, hand almost outstretched before he sees the size difference and thinks better of it. He just taps on your cheek instead, delicately, like a hit from a flower. 

“Sweet one? Please tell me what is wrong. You weren’t answering your phone.” He wants to beg for you to look at him, plead. “It made me worry for you. Why did you not respond?” 

“So you want me to respond when you’re obviously bailing on me for what,” you pull back, disappearing partially behind the door. König watches with a still body as your arms go to wrap around your waist, dread creeping up his throat. “The third time? Fourth? I guess I’ve lost count.” 

The man’s lips go thin, eyes crinkling as an expression of pure self-hatred takes hold. He had stupidly hoped you wouldn’t notice that. When times got tough for him in the past – whether with the schoolyard bullies or an operation on wrong, avoidance was usually his best tactic; it was one he had fallen back into time and time again without fail. But he’d never told you that. 

And now he looked like a proper Arschloch. 

But you’re not done yet. When you leave the door open and disappear inside the dark apartment, König follows after like a lost puppy, water still dripping from his strong chin and stuck in his stubble. Cursing himself out in his head. 

“Ach, du Depp, jetzt hast du‘s getan. Die eine gute Sache ruiniert, die du hattest, oder...?" He mutters, slipping out of his boots and frantically looking after you as your form goes to the couch. König closes the front door and stays in the foyer, fingers twiddling and mouth opening and closing. 

You hadn’t even looked at him yet, and you’d barely seen him without a mask on. 

The Tv was on, playing some show that he’d never seen and he doubted you were watching. Your body plops to the couch with a shrieking of springs and bouncing of pillows. A small huff escapes your lips, though you speak no more. 

König clears his throat again, a nasty nervous habit along with the fidgeting, as he takes a few steps forward. The finger of his right hand goes to spread through his hair, pushing the strands back like a red wave and unintentionally slicking them to his skull. The clicking of his jaw reverberates in his ears as he resets it, picking at the palate scar under his left nostril. 

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it fitfully and already his face is reddening. König looks away from you for a moment, breathing before shuffling over like a guilty child would on drowned socks. He places one leg on the floor and kneels down in front of you so he can better look into your creased face. 

“Bӓrchen,” he liked calling you that – little bear – because the comparison was enough to make him smile every time it passed his lips. It was such an endearing term that it became difficult to look past the blatant harm he could inflict on you if he wasn’t careful. While his size made him perfect for the field, home life was, well, let's just say he could easily force his way through a crowd. Not that he would, of course. But at any rate, that was what you were to him – a little bear. “I…I have to confess to you that I have been avoiding you, yes? That much has been,” a stiff breath is taken in. “Obvious.” 

Your head turns to the side, knees brushing his own as you hold your hands in your lap. Behind König the show continues to play, spreading a silver light over the living room and the continuous droning of voices.  

Not knowing whether it would be frowned upon or not, and with a steadying breath for confidence, the man loops a cold finger under your chin; bringing you back to him and finally setting your glossy eyes ahead. 

He sees you blink in surprise when you find him maskless, and a faint smile flicks over his lips when your expression goes shy. Cautious like a bird.

“It was of no fault of your own, Sweetling, I ask that you believe me. I’ll try to explain the best I can, Ja? If you’ll let me, though, I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“If you don’t like me anymore, you can just say it…Stop dragging me on, please.” His heart stops, mouth still partially open before a sharp breath is sucked in. “I don’t know if I can take that anymore.” The pang in his chest hurts immensely, like taking an arrow and peeling back skin. You look at him so hopelessly, broken beyond belief as though a piece of you was being ripped out.

“W-why do you say that?” König tries to desperately stop the wetness of your tears from falling, shaking his head and cupping both of your cheeks, rubbing at the flesh in agony. “No, no, no, Dear One. That’s not what it is at all, I beg of you to listen.” In the fever, he switches between his native tongue and English, fingers shaking though not from the drenched clothes. “Meine Schöne, oh, meine Schöne. Bitte hör auf zu weinen.“

He takes quick breaths and finds in himself that he would do anything to stop you from crying – take a bullet, run a marathon, or learn to fly. Name it, any of it. Anything to wipe away the sadness that lives in your expression as if it even belonged there in the first place

“Do not cry over me, please, I-I,” König’s tongue trips over itself, but he persists, a similar burn in the back of his nose. “I…You scare me, Bӓrchen,” that gets your attention, creased eyes and a loose jaw going to give him full observation. 

What?! Your expression screams.

Face on fire, the Austrian continues with intense eyes, dark obsidian awash with pure light that reflects stars. Overflowing with anxious tears that he refuses to let fall. 

He can’t lose you. No, no, not you. You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Damn him – damn his own consciousness that’s more of a betrayer than Brutus. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go… 

“...What?” Your voice wavers, nose twitching so adorably that the man is momentarily stunned. 

“I am afraid of you, my Dear. Utterly and wholly.” König sucks down a breath, now the one unable to continue the stare-off. His foot shifts. “I am afraid of what you do to me. Your smile, Gott, your smile. A-and the way you speak, how you react so honestly to my paintings like you care with all of your heart.” He laughs wetly when you smile dimly, continuing as he caresses your skin. “Everything down to your very bones is like…like…” König’s words fumble, because comparing you to something earthly was impossible to him. 

“Ever since I met you in that art store, I cannot string together words with any semblance of meaning when I am around you. Bӓrchen, you have entrapped my mind, and I am afraid.”

He watches you breathe in slowly, tears no longer falling, though the evidence still haunts him. The man’s chest lets go of a tightly wound knot, the anvil on the other side just narrowly missing his heart as the sweat on his brow evaporates.

“A-and,” König sighs, shaking his head and moving his hands to tightly hold your own in your lap. How could he explain the last part of this dilemma? He bluntly states, “you’re small.”

A brief moment of silence bleeds like a wound, long and slow, until a tiny snort echoes. Full-blown laughter emanates not even a second later, and he watches your body heave forward and slot itself with your nose in his shoulder. König’s blush stains all the way down his neck, but minuscule giggles also fall from him in retaliation to yours. His great arms wrap themselves around your waist, dragging you slightly closer as he breathes deeply. 

Your scent pulls him under like a ship at the water, riding great waves with sea beasts under the waves guiding the vessel along its course. 

“Everyone’s small compared to you.” Your mumbling in his shoulder makes his grip tighten, side-eyeing your visage as his head tilts down. “Not my fault you got every gene that made you sprout like a damn tree.”

With your lips caressing his neck, he blinks softly down at you, amused, as his breath mingles with your hair. He lets you speak, getting it all off your chest and feeling stupid for how he had been avoiding this.

“You’re afraid because you’re so big, then? That you might hurt me?” 

“Ja.” Your hands circle around his shoulders, and with a sigh that leaves the man short of breath, you shimmy back and face him, fingers playing with the base of his neck; pulling at tiny hairs. 

“Don’t you think being worried about that means something? And, c’mon,” you smile lightly to him, and he watches closely, fingers moving along your spine. “With how conscious you are of your body, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening.”

Hands grasp his neck, and with a bobbing Adam’s apple, König yields to your pull, angling his head to you as your back straightens. Watching with awe; your silhouette bathed in silver light and eyes fatigued, though never more beautiful. You’re beaming.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, okay? So stop worrying about it, you big dope – and stop ditching me!” The Austrian’s dark eyes are fastly moved from one spot on your face to another, cataloging every bump and pore to memory. 

He’d never been this close to you before, though he’d fantasized about it. And what you were telling him…it’s like his body deflates with relief, and a genuine, boyish, smile blossoms. 

“Safe? W-with me, Bӓrchen? Oh-oh, my…” A kiss suddenly hits his forehead, and if you continued doing things like this, he was sure he’d explode. His body was vibrating with pure bashfulness; it was so odd to be complimented and doted on by someone that wasn’t his close family. For someone to reassure him of his flawed concerns. 

She feels safe with me. 

How could he tell you how happy that made him to hear aloud?

“Hey,” hands cup his jaw, and his spaced-out eyes snap back to you instantly, blinking away the rose-colored fog. You shake his head back and forth until he’s chuckling, like a kid again, and his grip catches your wrists to make you stop. Your breath fans over his blazing cheeks like a wind sent from Zephyrus himself, and the sticking clothes to his body matter little. “No more leaving me hanging, okay? I miss you, König. I want to be around you.” 

The eyes that travel down his scarred and freckled face leave him slightly self-conscious, but as if sensing this, your lips curve. Before he could utter a grunt of surprise, your kiss had connected with the scar on his forehead, as well as the palate. Just brushing the top of his lips as his large nose poked your cheek. 

“Mein Gott.” König gasps, eyes fluttering shut when you pull back and a grin slashes your face. A whisper meets the room.

“Thank you for showing me your handsome face, mein Schöner, I’ve been wondering what you looked like.” Shyly scanning his features, the redhead lets your fingers trace his flesh, shivers left in their wake, and a soft sigh. 

If he opens his eyes, he’s afraid he’d start crying. So he lets you touch his scarlet flesh, nearly the same shade as his hair, though the auburn is more deep-set. Shivering every time you lay another press of your lips to a blemish; more addictive than drugs. 

“You’re going to kill me,” König pleads, “but if this is punishment for causing you pain, I will gladly bear it.”

“Sly.” You smirk, pressing one more peck to his nose, and pulling back. He grumbles in his throat before his eyes peel open slowly; pupils blown wide and mouth parted. “Are you alive down there?”

“Barely. Perhaps I’ll need another kiss to tell, yes?” 

“You’re horrible.” Looking at his clothes, your eyes suddenly go grim. Like you’d just noticed the state of him now that he was kneeling in front of you and struck by your beauty. “And shivering.” You huff. “Why didn’t you start by saying you were soaked to the bone, König?” 

He looks to the ground, and you try to shuffle past and grab him a towel, but his arms trap you. You find yourself in a chest faster than you can blink, hands splayed over a pec that jerks as you’re lifted up. 

König hears you squeak and laughs, throwing you up into a bridal-style hold easily. Laughing chest-deep, you curl under his chin and quickly comment, “what are you doing?!” 

“Hush, Bӓrchen,” the man squishes you closer, “I’ll find a towel, don’t strain yourself.” 

You direct him to the bathroom after he sets you on your bed, hearing the pounding of rain outside as he sneaks off. 

The room smells of your shampoo, and König takes a pastel towel from the wrack after half-closing the door, slapping it to his head and violently rubbing it back and forth. Lost in his elevated thoughts and happy demeanor, the knock on the wood is almost missed. He’s just about to take off his shirt and wring it out when he blinks at the sound. 

“König – I’ve got some spare clothes, but I doubt they’ll fit you well enough.” An amused twitch of his lips later, he’s opening the door to your soft face, staring down at it. Standing shyly, your eyes crease; head tilting. “Sleepover?”

The man looks at the pile of fabric and nods kindly, a lofty feeling in his bones.

“Yes, please. They’re perfect, vielen Dank.” It isn’t long before he’s coming back out, a shirt that barely fits over his wide chest and a pair of sweats clinging to his hips. But he didn’t mind. 

They smelled like you, and thus, he smelled like you. König quickly found out that drawing wasn’t the only thing that could calm him. 

An embarrassed smile and a sheen of giddiness never leave his face.

He slides into bed with you, and you quickly latch under his arm, limbs tangling with his own as his fingers twitch over the width of the base of your shoulder blades. An easy expulsion of air leaves him as your weight settles, back curving to the make of the mattress. 

The words leave him in the delicate silence; water hitting the window and during the exploration of souls. Cheeks hot and heart hammering. 

“Sei mein?” Be mine? 

He feels your grin, nose nuzzling his flesh like it was the perfect pillow, and his heart speeds like a shooting star.

“Mein Herz war immer deins. Ja.” My heart was always yours. Yes. 

He stays awake for a long while, listening to your breathing and staring at the ceiling, running knuckles over your spine and staying silent. 

Smiling.  

#konig #konig x reader #konig modern warfare #konig fluff #cod konig #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #cod mw22 #cod x you #cod x reader #cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #x fem!reader #x female reader #cod mw fanfiction #cod fandom #cod fanfic #mw x reader #modern warfare #konig x you

[tojisun]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C129xgdPN0D/?igsh=eWptZ2tnMHI0ODJ1

price and soap price and soap price and soap. i’m literally foaming at the mouth. i can’t take it

IM A PUDDLE IM A MESS OH MY GOD!!! THATS SO PRICE AND SOAP YEA IM LIKE SCALING THE WALLS

જ thinking about seeing price’s tummy first before his gains. thinking about price lifting his shirt up to wipe at his face, giving you a view of his belly and you freeze, going breathless because what the fuck that’s so hot.

john sees you gaping at him and he coughs awkwardly, apologizing about the indecency, and you’re quick to reassure him that “no, no oh my god you look good! sorry i just- i just didn’t expect that!”

clearly that doesn’t save you from further mortification so you stutter out a goodbye and hightail out of there. it’d be weeks later (the gap days full of you remembering john’s body… sometimes even dreaming about it. dreaming about being pressed against his softness and being cradled and being taken by him against the wall and-…!!) when john shows you his muscles—ripped in a way that you also didn’t expect from him but, you realize, of fucking course he’s ripped!

the daydreams just spiral even more after that :((

જ thinking about the opposite for soap—how you first saw his toned pecs before his tummy. thinking about seeing soap in that white cunty ripped-sleeves turtleneck as he fixes up something in his garage, sweat making his adonis-like muscles glisten and you honest to god whimper.

johnny looks up from where he’s got his head bowed to see something in his car and waves at you, shooting you that toothy smile that makes your breath hitch. the stretch of his arm makes his muscles flex and you could not stop the dreamy sigh that slithers out of your lips.

“hey neighbour!” johnny calls out, before his brows furrow in confusion as you, and you realize this in horror, proceed to just stare at him, all dopey and unblinkingly.

“oh!” you squeak. “bye!”

you’d try to ignore him as best as you could and you tell yourself that johnny’s sad puppy look isn’t getting to you but, well, you’re a liar and a weakling.

so, naturally, you see yourself knocking on his door a week later with a tupperware full of cookies. johnny swings the door open, wide smile only faltering a bit to make way for his confusion, but you bulldoze through whatever he must have wanted to say because you could honestly feel yourself getting faint—of course your handsome neighbour is even more handsome up close. of course.

“i, uh, got you cookies,” you say, cringing at the rasp of your voice. “well i say i ‘got’ you cookies but actually i baked them. for you. as apology. because i’m sorry.”

why, in god’s name, are you talking like that!?

“and you probably don’t wanna eat them because, duh, muscle man right here—” jesus christ, shut up! “so feel free to chuck ‘em out, i honestly wouldn’t feel offended and-”

johnny laughs, so bright and joyful that it makes him throw his head back. he even wipes his eyes because he’s laughing so hard, he teared up.

“easy there, chipmunk,” he says, mid-chuckles.

chipmunk?

“i’d love to eat these—” he takes the tupperware from you. “y’kiddin’?”

then he does the unthinkable—he lifts his shirt up to show you his, surprisingly, soft belly. you expected muscles and sculpted abs but this? god, this is better.

johnny pats his stomach. “this baby needs ‘em sweets.”

“uh huh,” you rasp out because what else can you say when adonis shows you his stomach?

“that’s great,” you add, your eyes still trained to his belly. “really, really great.”

“…you okay there?”

you fumble another ‘uh huh’ because, again, what else can you say?

yall need to stage a full intervention atp bc i cant stop rambling hhhshe!!! ne ways, this is me rn for realz 😭 and me! anotha me!! god i need emmmm

#thoughts-from-omen #john price x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #john price #johnny soap mactavish #ask #suns #IM LOSING MY MIND

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write hdc on Smoke accidentally getting caught daydreaming about the reader?

This probably isn’t what you wanted but I thought I’d just add a little bit of something. 🦦

He couldn’t help it.

You were just so…you. How could he not waste away his days daydreaming about you. He’d personally consider it a crime if he didn’t find himself with his head in his hands, a faraway look in his eyes, completed with a dopey grin beneath his mask and his thoughts completely taken over by you; wishing you were here so he could keep you warm by sharing his body heat and you resting your head against his well built chest.

When Tomas daydreams, it’s obvious for those who knew him well enough and would quickly catch on from his tell-tell signs that while he was there physically, his mind however was elsewhere, most likely with you within the realm of dreams and desires. So whenever someone teasingly asks who the special person occupying his mind was, his mouth says no one with a slight crack of his voice, as though he was a prepubescent teenager, but his eyes would always somehow flicker in your direction whilst saying this…giving everyone the answer they were expecting.

It seemed that neither subtlety nor acting were a strong suit of his…

You made him, someone who took pride in his abilities and strength, all weak in the knees, sweaty palmed, nervous laughter, awkward and self conscious during every conversation you as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and most of all; you made him feel warm within his heart.

Tomas Vrbada strikes me as the romantic type, someone who still held onto hope of finding a true love, soulmate type of love, a doing domestic tasks together type of love, a finding utter comfort within the others as your whispering sweet nothings arms type of love, a your heart is safe with me type of love. Ya know?

Kuai Liang is the one to catch him mid-daydream and originally he’s happy for his brother but his duty to tease the shit out of him-ya know like siblings do- outgrew him to the point where Kuai Liang would side in next to him and say quite bluntly;

‘Thinking about y/n again?’

Never did he see his brother fail so badly at covering his own ass as he did in that moment as though he had gotten caught with his pants down and not daydreaming.

‘What? No! I mean- no, I mean no! Why would I be thinking about them when there’s still so much work to do here I-‘ Kuai Liang had to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder to make him stop before he hurt himself. ‘I’m not shaming you for being human Tomas, the Shirai Ryu isn’t going to collapse just because your mind is somewhere more pleasant.’

He watched as Tomas collects himself all the while smiling awkwardly at the fact of being caught, he wasn’t like Bi-Han, who would’ve called his frequent daydreaming an weakness the Lin Quei could not have in fear of exploitation. Tomas was free to allow his mind to think of whoever it wishes, so who was he to step in the way?

Kuai Liang would have to personally thank you one of these days for being on Tomas’ mind, even if you didn’t understand what he meant by that, which he eventually did; Only to then probably watch as you walk up to Tomas and relay to him of what was said before smirking to himself behind his mask again upon seeing Tomas once again fail to cover his ass.

Kuai Liang knew all his brother needed was a little push in where he’s meant to go before leaving everything else up to him, fully believing in his brother.

#mk imagines #mk imagine #mk x reader #mk x you #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat 1 x reader #tomas vrbada imagine #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada x you #smoke x reader

[essycogany]

SonAmy Headcanons

Because why not.

This is how I personally see their relationship. I’ll try to keep it somewhat accurate to how they’d act canonically. I’d say where they are now is great, but I’d like to add a few things. Some of these may or may not be influenced by other amazing creators.

You are free to steal if you want.

Sonic and Amy mostly act like a couple in private areas or when they think no one is paying attention. They might tell a few of their friends, but often try to keep things discreet. Even if their overall relationship isn’t different in a third person’s perspective.

Tails: “You two sure you’re not still friends or are you actually together?”

Sonic And Amy: “Yes!”

Sonic’s the most chill and casual boyfriend and shows a good amount of affection. Amy is an overjoyed and loving girlfriend who shows a huge amount of affection.

Amy does her best to not tell most people about her and Sonic. Making an effort to call him her “best friend.” Sonic doesn’t mind it much, even saying it’s “not a big deal.” Leaving Amy confused.

Sonic tells whoever he feels like telling that Amy’s his girlfriend without thinking and thinks it’s funny when she’s shocked about it.

The hedgehogs are unsure of what normal couple standers are. They usually already know what works for them. Except who they should tell.

Sonic shows affection by kissing Amy on the hand and hugging her. When feeling extra, he carries her and takes her out on a run. Amy shows affection by constant cheek kissing, hugging, and ear rubbing. (which he pretends to not enjoy but does.)

Examples:

These and basically everything that happened between them recently are what I have in mind in terms of physical affection.

Instead of kissing they touch each other’s cheeks.

Sonic (being a casual boyfriend) puts his arm around Amy’s shoulder indistinctively in public.

Both hedgehogs forget how they got together. All they remember is it happening.

They enjoy having tea with Cream in order to hang out more. And to spend time with Cream of course.

Amy instantly starts cooking more food after Sonic finishes eating.

Sonic and Amy love gardening and cooking together after defeating Eggman.

Amy admires Sonic’s knowledge about plants, guitars, and books. Sonic admires Amy’s optimistic side whenever she geeks out about silly stuff.

Their brief arguments stems to worrying about one another or what cake tastes better.

Sonic’s favorite times with Amy are when he teases her and she chases after him.

Amy laughs at Sonic’s jokes. Even when they’re not funny.

They both find bungee-jumping romantic and relaxing.

Amy and Sonic plays with each other’s quills when they’re bored.

The best dates are when they’re on dangerous adventures. Sometimes dates aren’t fun when nothing crazy happens. On those days, they go find trouble to be satisfied. But normal dates can be cool if it means they get to travel together.

Amy mostly sends gifts on holidays and Sonic gives gifts when she doesn’t expect it.

Sonic only dresses up when Amy reminds him. Amy doesn’t mind if he forgets because she ends up buying him outfits. She even makes Sonic a red hoodie and he wears it a lot.

When apart for a long time, they write each other letters.

Sonic randomly comes over Amy’s place at any time of day without warning. She acts as if she doesn’t like it, but really enjoys the company of her boyfriend.

On movie nights, Amy and Sonic always forget how long Sonic stays and ends up sleeping on the couch together with one head on top of the other. The same thing happens when they go outside for a “short run,” and end up sleeping outside.

The blue blur’s way of saying “I love you” back to Amy is by using sign language or saying “right back at ya.” He’ll eventually start saying “I love you,” later on. Which surprises Amy to no end when he does it out of nowhere.

The romance Sonic and Amy have isn’t only romance, but an updated version of their friendship. The ability to still be their own people even when in different places. Sonic and Amy are a power couple whose love for adventure strengthens their love for each other. The hedgehogs are equally as happy as when they were close friends. That is what keeps them attached.

That’s a rap! This most likely will never happen, but I don’t mind. Them officially being friends with crushes on each other is stellar and I’m satisfied with it.

#I LOVED writing this #if I continued this list would probably never end lol #At this point I think they’re kind of canon enough already #in a none bf and gf but still have crushes on one another kind of way #sonamy #sonic and amy #sonic x amy #sth #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic idw #sonic archie #sonic headcanons #otp ship #sonic frontiers #sonic frontiers final horizon #Sonamy headcanons

[grimesgirll]

Do you take requests? If so I’d love to see a Rick x reader where he watches reader in the shower and maybe jerks off to it. One day she notices him and asks him to join her

it’s a filthy thing he’s doing.

steam fogging up the glass and bursting around you, you’re oblivious to the onlooker to your nightly shower.

watching you like this has to go down on the list of the grimiest things he’s ever done.

despite being a shining example of a redemption story and someone he could trust, rick wants nothing more than to spend an evening with you face down beneath him. your hands on him, his on you; rick craves you in so many ways.

observing from the doorway already has him palming his hard on. through the mist, your erection stirring figure is obvious and rick has underestimated how painfully hard he is. it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fantasized with you around.

on the road once, you were on your knees tending to his cuts and all he could think about was how beautiful you were. with the prettiest face he’d ever seen and lips too soft too pillowy and tempting for the harsh season you were in.

one of the woodbury survivors, you’d come to the group as nothing more than a shaken young grad student. the governor returning to storm your new home changed that. terminus had changed that. the road had changed that. with every experience you grew closer to the group and closer to rick, although you were both too skittish to address the ways you looked at each other with your basic survivor being such a priority.

you were welcome in his house however, once your group started assimilating amongst the alexandrians. opting to take a second floor bedroom next to judith’s, you fell into a steady routine of playing house with the grimes family. the newfound responsibilities of alexandria didn’t allow you to be judith’s full time caretaker but you still spent most days with the little girl and carl.

alone time with rick was hard to come by; “new constable duties and all,” he’d gruffed when you asked why you’d seen so little of him.

it wasn’t a satisfying answer but rick was wrapped up in alexandria and his new role. and jessie, you add mentally as you trudge up the stairs and to your en-suite to shower.

you hadn’t heard him when he shut the bedroom door - that you hadn’t bothered to close - and linger in the open bathroom doorway.

the hiss that comes out of him when you squirt a handful of body wash onto your palm and cup your breasts is hard to miss though.

at first you think it’s just the shower. the thought doesn’t cross your mind again as you begin scrubbing your torso with your loofah until another fervent breath echoes louder than the shower.

once you realize what’s going on, you refrain from stilling; not wanting to scare rick off.

the loofah runs lower, legs and knees being grazed by the tactile clump of textiles. you take your time bending over and really getting your calves, ankles, and the bottoms of your feet throughly cleaned.

your vantage point doesn’t extend behind you but you can see it all the same: rick, hot and bothered from your glistening body just feet away from him - a hand suddenly freeing his cock and taking the time to allow himself some manual relief.

rick is not the type to snoop on you in the shower but you roll your neck, easing out the cracks and thrusting your soapy bust forward all the same. you would’ve said something by now if you took any serious issue with rick sharing the room with you. your greatest issue is the wanton need bubbling between your pillowy thighs.

how to communicate with him? you mull, warm droplets falling onto your smooth skin from above. maybe being direct is the most honest thing you can do.

“rick, there’s room in here for two, you know.”

the sound of the shower head grows louder in rick’s silence.

you frown. having complex feelings is one thing, ignoring you is another.

thighs clenching at the thought of the tense election in his hand, you offer, “i can help you with that.”

another hiss hints to you that your words are landing. with a coy smile, you’re trying to coax him in another. whispers and wants of languidly bathing together amongst other things slip from your mouth in your ploy to get the man behind this glass door with you.

“come in with me, rick.”

rick’s eyes widen when you slide the shower door open and you think he’s considering heading for the hills until his eyes meet yours. his pupils are way to dilated to have the self control to run out of your bedroom.

he has even less of a capacity to fight when you begin tugging down the rest of his pants and underwear.

with a scolding of your name, he attempts to keep you from unbuttoning his shirt but with the way you’re pawing at him, he struggles to stay strong.

“honey, you don’t have to. i don’t know if that’s-,”

“-it’s fine, don’t worry. just get in here.” you emphasize your point with a wide smile and a pull of rick’s arm and before he knows it, he’s standing under the steam with you.

soft skin against his taut muscles, rick is the one melting into your embrace despite the slick between your thighs. he grounds himself with a hand against your tit.

“i’m really glad you came in here.” you remark into his doused chest. your embrace deepens until you feel rick between your legs and can’t help but grind down onto his rock hardness.

“let me wash your back, rick.”

it’s not what he expected to hear after you crushed his cock against your soft exterior but he’ll take it.

turning around, rick hears you pop the cap off of one of your cucumber smelling body washes and starts with his shoulders. the man grunts from the delicate massage up and down his back.

“i’m really happy you’re with me right now, rick.” you iterate again, hoping to drive the point home.

the constable’s head lifts slightly. “you like me?”

“i do, rick.” you answer without a breath. your hands trail lower as you lather the skin just above his ass. “i like you a lot. i like living here with you.”

his muscles tighten and relax beneath you, responding to your words and the motion of your nimble fingers. his stress filled backside needed nothing more than for you to continue this massage with him on his stomach on the bed. months on months of responsibility, peril, and his role as a leader had manifested the knots in his back.

another hour of this treatment would probably have rick feeling better than he had in a long time but he starts to get an idea of something he wants even more.

rick rotates to face you, catching your wrists in his palms and your gaze all in the same pivot.

“do you want me to fuck you, darlin’?”

you could swoon right then and there. you always ached when he called you darlin’. now he can take care of the throbbing he always caused when he addressed you like that.

“of course,” you exhale and nod eagerly.

the kiss that rick is stamping on your wet lips has you hooking a leg around the back of his thigh and falling into his embrace.

this is the moment when you appreciate having the handicap accessible bathroom.

because after a few minutes of sucking marks that you know are going to incur questions, rick takes a break from attacking your lips, tits, and collarbone to bend you over the white, rubbery soft waterproof bench installed in your en-suite. you brace yourself against the surface as you feel rick behind you, gathering up your slick. the tip of his much larger than you’d expected cock teases your already sloppy wet hole.

“mhm,” you’re crying when he brushes against you again.

“damn, you’re wet, darlin’,.”

“why do you think, rick?”

you don’t mean to be snappy but you want him inside of you. waiting at the door is only working you up even more.

he chuckles lightly. a finger touches your sensitive folds from behind; the gasp he elicits from you has him pressing his cock right along your tight little hole.

the whine that you let ring through the shower is the last straw before rick plunges into you.

every inch is a battle - a battle you’re pleased to lose. it’s like waterloo, or whatever reason abba loved it so much. rick felt like too much to take at first. in all reality, your thick arousal ushers him in flawlessly. each thrust coats him in your cunt’s permission to keep going - keep pushing through each layer of fleshy, heavenly, spongy muscle. the road to bottoming out inside of you has never been more clear.

with the confidence to drive balls deep comes your needy cunt contracting against rick. a temporary finger against your clit only exacerbates the death grip you’ve established.

“good fucking girl, so tight,” rick relays to you through gritted teeth. “you take me so well, baby.”

bent over the bench, you’re thanking god that you’re in the shower and not somewhere where anyone can you hear or rick. no one needs to hear the way you’re murmuring like an overjoyed, sex-hazed idiot and getting fucked so dumb up and down on him.

the dim lighting provided from the bathroom adds to the sensational pleasures you’re being treated to right now. now adjusted to his cock, the girth of rick is something that has you stupid and out of breath. the risk you took calling out rick was well worth it. getting fucked like this in your shower is exactly what you’d hoped for - and maybe rick ending up in your bed when this is all over.

“c’mon, i know we’re both close. come all over me nice and tight like i know you want to, baby.” the man encourages.

“wanna feel you come too, rick,” you’re rasping between twisting your hips to meet his from behind with the pliable plush of your ass.

“anything you want, darlin,” he promises with a kiss against your neck.

hot and searing like sparklers, waves of pulsing pleasure threaten to spill over. your core flutters around rick and he chokes back a hoarse moan. the indentation of his fingers in your hips only sinks deeper. that dull pain guides you with the bludgeoning pace of rick in your already revved up and desperate cunt.

splashing over you like the hot water above you, your orgasm has you jerking your hips even worse than rick when he comes inside of you not thirty seconds later.

when you feel up to it, you’re on your feet and drawing rick in by the back of the head for a kiss from you on your tippy toes. the tongue in your mouth and the firm hand on your waist is enough for you to get a little lost in it all.

you’re pulled from the steamy haze when you realize you two have shifted. the stickiness dissipating with the hot water is your indication and your head lowers to see rick’s come cascading down the duct. the mixture of your fluids is washed down your thighs and down the drain.

rick tilts your head up to interrupt your view of the floor beneath you two, cueing you into another lengthy kiss. he takes the opportunity to run his hands up as down the length of your body, not neglecting to cup your ass.

an arch is reprising in you when the body wash makes another appearance. rick’s rubbing around your thighs, being thorough enough that you drag him out of the shower with you. opting for the two of you to share a towel, it’s not long before you’re heading for your bedroom.

with wet hair and soapy feet you two are crashing onto your bed.

the bedspread is damp already but you could care less. your bodies meeting skin to skin is dinging your pleasure receptors enough. all of rick flush against you while he marks your neck with even more hot, plum colored blemishes and juts his hips into you.

“mhmm,” you moan, rotating your hips back. “rick,” you’re whimpering for him at this point.

“wanna taste this freshly washed pussy,” rick utters against your chest, kissing his way down the valley of your breasts and just above your belly button.

he licks a pattern from there down to your slicked back mound. the tongue that parts your folds for you, gallantly dips inside of you. you’re worried that your reactive bottom will be crushing rick rudely in no time but his dexterous hands brace themselves against your thighs without fault. the accompanying circles and rhythmic patterns he’s etching with the pads of his fingers into your skin have you writing beneath his thick tongue.

roving across your slit as if on a mission, rick takes advantage of your sensitivity that had been see-sawing since the shower. you welcome the crescent shaped marks he’s littering on the paper sensitive skin of your inner thighs. why would you be upset? he’s setting you up to come your way into a state of bliss and sleep like a baby.

“rick, you’re so good at this,” you bellow softly, bleary eyed from the pressure he’s managing with just his tongue.

he doesn’t respond; the tongue toying with your relaxed hole just juts against the muscle. you almost leap up the bed when the tip of his pink tongue trespasses the first inch of your velvety insides.

“rick!” you exclaim.

pupil blown eyes rolling back, you’re clutching at the bedspread to stay on this planet. nerve endings flicker and burst into flame with the weight of rick’s tongue lapping them with no end in sight.

“fuck, i’m gonna come in your mouth, rick.” you confess breathily.

hands find his chestnut waves and they help you cope with the vortex licking and laving every single sweet moan and whimper from you.

you’re worried you’ll come right then and there again when you feel a deft finger that’s opening you up even more. it’s like the room is spinning. this new addition has you scrunching your eyes shut from the double overwhelm of this clearly skilled man’s finger and tongue.

“oh, rick!”

your lust-filled outbursts pair appropriately with the seriousness rick is committing to your cunt. a finger inside of you, a tongue bullying you, and another finger tormenting your clit has you begging and bucking your hips.

“mhmm, rick, shit.” you curse. “god!”

beneath you, the tongue and the two fingers intent on ruining you enter over time in an attempt to overload you. the pace and the pressure bundled up together are enough to have tears rolling down your cheeks.

a crack breaks inside of you when a particularly excruciatingly twist of rick’s fingers tantalizes the spot with the invisible “x.”

“rick!”

heat is rushing to your face when he curls his fingers inside of you. the full lips on your clit only have your knees floundering. that heat isn’t just in your face but brimming in your core. rick does nothing to assuage it - just builds on the heightening ardor around his fingers. fumbling through your words, you flex around his fingers and his tongue is the first to taste the flood as your head clearing, thought averting release grants you a blissful blank slate of a state.

looking down at you, the man savors the glow your climax had brought to your already ethereal face. parted lips and still twitching thighs told him that he’d thoroughly made inviting you in the shower with him worth your while.

fucked out and grinning, rick can’t help but match your disposition when you roll onto your elbows and utter;

“so, are you sleeping over?”

#the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes #twd #twd smut #twd imagine #rick grimes imagine #twd rick #not beta read #hope y’all like the new layout lol #the people speak #voyerurism #grimesgirll

[black-cat-2]

Omg, omg, omg I have this very specific idea for a Bucky x reader fanfic stuck in my brain and I need someone to write that immediately!

Hear me out:

So, in the timeframe between ‘Bucky gets away from HYDRA’ and ‘Steve finds Bucky’ Bucky befriends Reader and later, after Wakanda or something, he comes back in contact with her. But: no one except him knows about their friendship because he finally has something of his own and he won’t let anyone destroy that for him. Anyway, wayyy later (FATWS timeline or something) a rough mission has him drag Sam to Reader’s place for like a night or something. And I’m talking about a confused Sam. “What are we doin’ here, man?” Sam. “This ain’t your place. Why you got a key?” Sam. While Bucky doesn’t even bother to answer, instead opening the door all like “Doll, I’m home”. And like, their vibes are gonna be so domestic and cute and with all the cuddles that it’s practically obvious that they’re more than friends. Bonus points if they cuddle during the sleepover and he grumpily mutters “Fuck, I missed that.” But since they didn’t put a label on what would usually be considered a friends with benefits situation, Reader just awkwardly looks at Bucky and says they’re friends when Sam asks what exactly they are. And once they’re alone (like without Sam around)… damnnnn I need a feral Bucky. “Lemme show you that you’re fucking mine and mine only, babydoll” Bucky.

Hhhhhhhhhhhh

God, I’m a sucker for friends to lovers and possessive Bucky, I’m so sorry…

Edit: I also love the aspect that Reader could be from just about anywhere in the world since Bucky was practically on a hiding marathon when they met. Plus, the Reader can be just about anyone, with any random job. No need for being a Shield Agent or something :)

Anyway, could anyone write that? 🥹💖

Edit 2.0: It’s been written! If anyone wants to write their own version of this, feel free to do so, I’d love to see y’all’s ideas to this. I’ll just add them here ☺️

My Person by @winterarmyy

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x bestfriend reader #bucky barnes x bestfriend!reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky x bestfriend reader #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky smut #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x reader #request #can someone write this #please im begging #please i need this #please i need it

[enkas-illusion]

One of Your Guys

One of Your Guys - Part 1/3

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Choso x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, kissing, language, hurt/comfort, slight make out

Chapter Summary: You rant to your friend Choso about your crush and things take an unexpected turn when he confesses something that catches you off guard.

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first attempt at a short story. All characters are in their mid 20s. This is a pure cheesy, sappy, in-your-feelings vibe condensed into a 3-part story. If you enjoy it, feel free to like, reblog or comment; I’d love to know your thoughts. Thank you for reading! 

~ Eren's Birdie

Song Dedication: One Of Your Girls by Troye Sivan

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“I really hate to be that person but… I told you so.” 

You look at your friend with narrowed eyes, fighting the urge to roll them at him. If you knew you were in for a talking-to when you called Choso over to rant about the shit-show that you call your love life, you would’ve reconsidered it.

His face shows no sympathy for his poor heartbroken friend as he leans against your kitchen counter with his hands crossed at his chest. And rightly so, why would he anyway? Afterall, he’d told you to confess your feelings to your crush before it was too late and now here you are, admitting that ‘too late’ had arrived sooner than you’d expected.

“I know but I was scared of ruining our friendship, okay?” You sigh as your shoulders slump down. He simply shrugs at you as he walks towards the microwave when it beeps. His back is turned to you and a few seconds pass as you observe him following the usual routine.

You wonder whether making hot chocolate can be fixed into one's muscle memory. In that moment, you believe it might as well be the case for Choso as he takes the hot milk out, pulling the spoon out of the drawer while simultaneously grabbing the cocoa container from the shelf above him.

You want to laugh at how ridiculous it all seems. It’s not just the ritual of making hot chocolate, but the ranting sessions along with it that have turned into a daily occurance. How many times have you made your poor friend listen to you crib about your unrequited, unnoticed love for your best friend, Satoru?

In your defence, Choso was the one who’d initially annoyed you to death to get the info out of you. The genius that he is, Choso had figured out that you liked Satoru based on the way you interacted with the latter at a common friend’s house party. If someone were to ask Choso, he would tell them that your eyes would quite literally turn into heart shapes whenever Satoru talked to you.

“I’m sure you’d understand how I’m feeling if you were in my shoes.” you add as he stirs the spoon in the mug. He stills for a split second before continuing the movement. 

“Chosoooo say somethin-” you trail off when he turns around to look at you as if he’s fed up with your bullshit.

He walks towards you and hands you one of the mugs before making his way to the living room. You mutter a small ‘thank you’ as you follow behind him. When you’re settled on the sofa, you sit with your legs folded on the seat to face him as he leans back on the opposite end.

As he takes a few sips of his hot chocolate, he can see your brain working overtime to come up with a summary to explain all that you’re currently feeling. He almost finds your struggle to speak up adorable, when usually you always have 10 things to say and then some more.

“Fine, tell me exactly what he said.” Choso breaks the silence to give you an opening.

Your eyes soften with relief at his statement as you take a sip from your mug, “So… yesterday Satoru had invited me to a common friend’s house party but I had declined since I wanted to sleep the weekend away. And when I woke up in the morning, I opened Instagram to scroll a bit as usual and saw Satoru had added to his close friends’ story. I figured it’d be the usual party snaps… I was already feeling the fomo of not going so I clicked on it right away… and what do you know??? THE FIRST FUCKING PHOTO is of this pretty girl on his lap and he’s kissing her cheek. I swear it felt like my heart had dropped to my stomach.” you pause to take a few sips.

“Wait so based on a single snap, you assumed he’s dating her?” Choso frowns, visibly confused.

“No, of course not! Since Satoru often does get touchy like that with me as well, I did not want to assume so I replied to the story. I said something on the lines of ‘congrats on getting the girl big man, don’t forget about me though ahahaha.’”

This time you pause to observe Choso’s expressions and he’s visibly cringing hard. “Don’t say it… I’m aware how pathetic it is.” you pout as you fidget with a thread that’s sticking out of the sofa pillow. 

Choso swats your hand away to stop your fidgeting before he gently squeezes one of your feet with his free hand that isn’t holding his mug. “Poor baby,” he teases as he rubs circles over your skin, “Go on, I promise I won’t tease you.”

“Well, he read that within seconds and I got a call from him. He sounded a bit reserved at first as he broke the news to me… apparently, they’d been talking to each other for about a month… I had no idea,” you take a deep breath as it pains you to say the next sentence, “Last night, Satoru kissed her and confessed his feelings. Turns out she feels the same way for him so now they’re together. I said congratulations and cut the call… he sounded so happy.”

You turn your face to avoid Choso’s gaze, trying hard not to let the tears slip from your eyes. He moves closer to you as he places both of your mugs on the coffee table. He pulls you by your wrists, guiding your arms around his waist as his own wrap around your shoulders. As your face rests on his chest, you start sobbing silently.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’ll pass.” he tries to console you, brushing his fingers through your hair.

“What if I don’t want it to pass? I should be happy that the man I consider to be my best friend has found such a perfect girl for himself, but here I am, wishing it were me instead. Am I a bad friend for feeling that way?” you look up at him, still teary eyed.

“No, you’re not a bad friend. Your emotions are all over the place because something unexpected has happened. You weren’t anticipating this so you’re hurt and it’s okay to feel sad. You’re here crying in front of me instead of trying to sabotage his relationship or whatever… that is proof enough that you’d rather deal with the hurt than hurt other people.” you sigh as you listen to your friend’s soothing words. 

You rest your head on his shoulder as you close your eyes. Choso rubs your back gently before adding, “You’d only be a bad friend if you refuse to wipe your tears and snot off my t-shirt later. I’m not even kidding, I want this shit washed with that soft fabric conditioner you have, all crisp and ironed to perfection!”

You slap him where your hands were resting on his lower back, causing him to let out a tiny wail. It causes you to laugh for the first time after having been sad all day long.

Choso moves away, breaking the hug to create some space between as he hands your not-so-hot chocolate back to you. His knuckles rub your cheek to wipe the wet trail that had been left behind by your tears. He opens the palm of his hand to rest it against your cheek gently.

“I know you may not feel like it now, but you’re going to be fine.” he smiles as he reassures you.

You place your hand on top of his as you lean further into his touch, finding it a little too comforting. In an attempt to take the focus away from your problems, you ask him, “Have you ever liked someone who didn’t like you back?”

“Hmm…you.” he nods. You smack his hand away as you sit up straight.

“Choso! Be serious! You never tell me anything about your love life! You’re always joking around.” you complain.

“That’s because there’s nothing there to tell! I tell you about all the other aspects of my life cause they’re much more entertaining than my love life.” he answers with a tone of sincerity. You pout, not convinced.

He rolls his eyes at your persistence and adds, “Well what do you want to hear about? Would you rather have me talk about all the Tinder dates I fuck and never see again?”

You scrunch your face at the crudeness of his words, “Nope.”

“My point exactly… anyway do you want to watch something?” he asks as he grabs the remote. You nod as you both gulp down the remaining of your drinks. You get up and take the mugs to the kitchen to wash them while Choso scrolls away on Netflix.

When you return to sit next to him, his arm grabs your waist to pull you in closer to cuddle as he presses play. You rest your head on his shoulder as it begins. When you realise what he’s playing, you tilt your head up to look at him. “Really? Bridgerton?”

“Yeah… and season 2 cause it’s the better one. We literally have the whole evening to binge” he states, unprovoked by your almost condescending tone. You decide not to tease him about it. 

Before you realise it, hours pass by and you’ve binged half of the show. As the characters were introduced, Choso filled you in on the details and it almost felt like you hadn’t missed season 1 at all. There was additional unnecessary commentary that came along with his explanation of plot points, but you weren’t complaining.

Spending time with your friend like this, where the heartache you felt this morning seemed dull in comparison to laughing at his lame jokes, is exactly what you needed to relax. You let the chatter in your brain melt away and instead focus your awareness on the present moment – a task that had almost felt impossible before you’d asked Choso to come over in the afternoon. 

Cuddling so close to him, you notice the smell of his perfume is a lot stronger. You breathe in his scent, a smoky wooden smell with just a tiny hint of something sweet to it. It’s a distinctly familiar scent you’ve grown accustomed to ever since the two of you began cuddling together during your frequent movie nights. The dynamic you shared with Choso was similar to your relationship with Satoru, minus the romantic feelings you had for the latter. 

Choso’s right arm rested around your waist while the other rubbed lazy circles on your knee, whereas your right hand was resting on his chest with your torso leaning into his side. And while there was an unspoken agreement that even cuddling with Choso was platonic; your flatmate, Mia, was certain that it was only a matter of time before something would happen between the two of you.

You’re grateful she’s not at home for the weekend to tease you about tonight. If she saw the two of you right now, the teasing you’d have to endure would be insufferable. You smile to yourself when you think about it.

When you get to the scene where Anthony goes feral over Kate’s scent, you joke about how you feel the same way about Choso’s perfume.

“You like my perfume?” he asks, surprised, making sure he heard you right.

“Always have.” you admit, “I know it’s oud, but what’s the sweet floral scent with it?”

“Jasmine.”

“Oh… I like it. It’s perfect, not too sweet, not too harsh.” you say, trying not to be too obvious as you try to sniff at his t-shirt. Before you get a chance to do so, he leans back and shifts his torso to lean in closer to your neck instead. 

“Are you wearing any right now? I never really noticed your scent.” he speaks softly and you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. You pull back instantly, feeling flustered and hot. You blink a few times before you shake your head side to side. He chuckles as he goes back to his original position, his focus shifting back to the TV. 

Is he seriously oblivious to how close you two just were or does it simply not faze him at all? 

You mentally slap yourself for misinterpreting his seemingly innocent actions. He leans back comfortably with one hand on top of the headrest and you shift back into his embrace. A few minutes pass before his hand behind you moves closer to caress your neck, you feel goosebumps rise on your lower spine as you move away from his touch.

“What?” he asks, confused.

Either this man is an idiot, or he’s fucking with you to rile you up. 

He pauses the show to hear what you have to say. “Don’t do that. It feels… ticklish.” you choose your words wisely. 

“Well, it wasn’t my intent- aww, are you ticklish?” he inquires mischievously as he raises an eyebrow. Before you can answer, he grabs one of your feet as he roughly yanks it, making your back fall flat on the sofa. You let out a shriek as he moves on top of you and cages you between his arms, ready to tickle you. 

You start yelling at him to stop, laughing hysterically as he tickles you. You try pushing him away but fail to do so as his muscular figure leans even closer to yours. You have tears in your eyes from laughing and after a while, you’re basically begging him to stop.

When he finally stops, he looks at you with a smug smile of victory on his face as your laughter slowly dies down. There’s a moment of silence when your eyes meet and you get a strange feeling in your stomach. Maybe butterflies, but possibly anxiety for what your instinct tells you is about to happen.

You notice Choso’s gaze move down to your lips and you mimic him. He involuntarily licks his lips as your breath hitches in your chest. He lowers his head till your faces are just inches away from each other and he gently nudges your nose with his. 

His left hand moves up to the side of your neck and he caresses your jaw with his thumb. You lift your head up at the same time when he leans down and your lips meet. His lips feel plump and wet as you close your eyes. 

Who kissed who first? You wonder but all of your thoughts keep getting lost before they have a chance to rise to the surface. The only thing occupying your mind is the way his lips feel on yours, your skin burning where he’s touching you.

His right hand grips your hip to push it down further into the cushions of the sofa. His hand on your neck moves down to your throat as he chokes you slightly, as if to test the waters. He smiles into the kiss when he hears you moan.

He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. The way his tongue moves has you entranced. His movements feel languid, yet they contain enough force to convey an intense passion. 

Your hands move of their own accord as they make their way to hug his shoulders. He breaks the kiss as his lips leave a trail of quick pecks down your neck. Your head tilts back to give him better access. He sucks on the spot just below your ear and your palms bundle up his t-shirt, creasing the fabric. 

You moan louder than you’d intended to when he bites the spot and his fingers dig into the meat of your thigh. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as he licks a strip up along the front of your neck. He hooks your leg that he’s holding around his lower back and presses his hips down to grind against yours.

“Fuck… Choso-,” you say, out of breath. You can feel how hard he is through his sweatpants. He lifts his head up and his hair is all messed up, the smaller strands have escaped the bounds of his hair tie and frame his face in a way you can only describe as delicious. He kisses you on the mouth once again and you have to close your eyes shut to regain your composure. 

As much as you don’t want him to stop, you know better than to let the situation escalate even further. Your hands move to his chest and you firmly place them there but don’t push him away. 

Fuck. About time you tell him to stop.

You move your head to the side as you try speaking softly, “Chos-”, but he grabs your face to turn it back to him and bites your lower lip, continuing the kiss. You’re pretty sure he can feel your wetness as he grinds his hips, pressing against you. You groan at how good it feels.

You kiss him back, pulling him impossibly closer by his t-shirt. He pulls your bottom lip with his teeth again before releasing it. “Fuck… baby, you feel so good,” he groans as his hand pulls your t-shirt down and his face moves to your collarbone to leave another hickey. 

“Ahhh… Choso, please,” you moan at his touch. He comes back up again as he stares down at your neck, proud of the light mark he knows is going to turn dark purple later. He kisses you on the lips once again.

Before your desire wins over the rational part of your brain, you press your hands firmly to his chest. He leans back a bit as he understands what you mean. He reluctantly moves away from your face but his hands still hold you in place. His eyes look hazy and full of lust. By the way he looks at you, you’re certain yours don’t look any different either.

So much for not wanting to fuck up another friendship.

“We can’t...” you mumble, but clear your throat to speak up clearly, “Choso, we can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he retorts softly, his thumb moving across your bottom lip. You sigh as you grab his wrist to remove his hand. He moves his hand through his hair to push back the stray strands as he sits back up to create space between you two.

For a split-second, you find yourself missing his warmth before you sit up straight to look at him. You envelop his hand into yours and you hold it like that as he waits for you to speak up.

“This feels strange… I don’t want to make you feel as if I’m just using your body to get over Satoru. It already feels like I’m gonna lose him as my best friend, I don’t want to lose you too…” you trail off as you lower your head with shame. 

“What if I didn't mind you using me to get over your stupid crush?” he replies. It was the last thing you’d expected him to say. Your eyes widen in surprise as you look up at him.

“I think it’s pretty evident that I have a thing for you,” he continues as he looks down at his crotch. Your eyes follow his and you can see the imprint of his hard on over his sweatpants. You look away quickly, not wanting to ogle at the sight.

“It’s just your dick talking…” you almost whisper, not wanting him to hear your accusatory tone. He pulls his hand out of your grasp before running his fingers through his hair once again in frustration. 

You know you hit a nerve when he groans slightly as he speaks up, “Far from it… I’ve liked you for a while now. But you’re so blinded by your crush for that blue-eyed snowflake fuck that you can’t see anyone else. Least someone who can treat you far better than he does. Anyone can tell that you have a crush on him… Satoru knows, your eyes tell, he just conveniently ignores it. I’m not sure why you’re so crazy over him but it hurts me more than I'd like to admit when all you care about is Satoru this, Satoru that. Fuck Satoru! What the fuck is it going to take for you to finally see me?”

You’re speechless. Your brain feels like it has stopped computing altogether. 

What the fuck?

Even if you want to say something, you fall short of the right words. Your lips part to speak but close again. Choso notices this and his jaw tightens. He mumbles a ‘be right back’ as he gets up abruptly and makes his way towards the washroom. 

You’re still sitting in your place when he returns after a few minutes. The edge of his hairline is wet but he’s dried his face. As if washing his face had washed away his agitated state of mind, he looks more composed now.

“Choso..” you get up quickly and walk to him.

“It’s getting late, I better leave. I’m sorry.” he interrupts you. He turns away from you and walks towards the apartment door. You follow behind him quickly as you call out his name again. He knows how much you hate leaving things hanging in a limbo till the next meeting.

He turns around and cups your face with both his hands. They’re cold now. His eyes meet yours as he speaks, “It’s okay… I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that. You’re going through your own shit. I shouldn’t add more onto it.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss your forehead. You try speaking up but he interrupts you once again. He does not want to give you an opening. He wants to leave things in a limbo tonight. He wants to remember the way your lips felt and not let it be overshadowed by your rejection that came after.

“We’re okay,” he presses and you know he’s not going to listen to you tonight. “Goodnight.”

You put your hands on top of his to hold them in place when you sense him pulling them away. He moves them away regardless and instead squeezes both of your hands. His touch feels so different from how it was just a few minutes ago and you want to cry.

You can’t help but feel as if you’ve ruined your friendship and you feel him slipping away. Maybe you’re being a bit dramatic but he’s being so formal and indifferent that it almost makes you feel sick.

“Hey,” he stops your train of thought, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

No, please stay. You want to say but you don’t dare to. You can’t… not with everything that just happened.

“Goodnight.” you force a smile at him and he squeezes your hands once more before leaving.

You stand there, staring at your closed door for a good few minutes before you turn the TV off completely and retire to your bedroom. Every single scenario and all the endless outcomes play in your head but above everything else, Choso’s confession of his feelings for you plays in your head on loop like a broken record.

You’re still unsure of how you feel about it as you fall asleep an hour later, still thinking about him. You hope in desperation that come morning, you’ll be wiser at deciphering the mess of your emotions a bit better.

MDNI banner: @benkeibear

#erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsukaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso #choso smut #choso x you #choso jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[fushipurro]

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 2 - Rabbit

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, domestic fluff, depression, mentions of blood (small cut), angst

☆ Word Count: 4.1k

It’s been a few weeks since Toji moved in next-door, and you haven’t spoken or seen much of him since the night you met his son, only hearing the typical noise of their coming and goings. Compared to your first impression, they’ve been better neighbors than you hoped they’d be. Aka, they’re quiet.

Tonight, you decided it was time for some real food, and so, you made your way out to the grocery store to grab all the necessities needed to restock your home.

Little are you aware, Toji had the same idea.

“Do you always go shopping this late?”

You turn around to see not only Toji, but Megumi as well, positioned right at his side. His features are covered up by both a frog plushie he holds close to his face as well as Toji’s leg, but you’re still able to make out one green eye staring right at you.

“Hey Toji.” You smile, moving your head to get a better look at the boy. “Hi Megumi.” He mumbles the word “rabbit” into his stuffed animal, sucking in his lips.

“Megs, what did we talk about?” Toji lightly scolds, reminding his son of your name after. Megumi looks down at the ground with a now saddened look, mumbling an apology.

“No worries, it’s all good,” you assure the young boy with a lighthearted chuckle to ease the tension. “Call me whatever you would like, ‘Gumi.” You wink.

He seems to enjoy the new nickname for him, and you don’t miss the blush that creeps up over his cheeks. Toji softens up, turning his attention back to you. “Tough day at work?” he asks, and it’s only then you realize you must’ve missed a dot of concealer under your eyes.

“Eh, sort of.” You pause, finding the right words to use to not come off like you’re dumping your woes onto him. “Had a lot of meetings today for an upcoming project, and not nearly enough sleep,” you give a weak laugh after, fiddling with the fabric of your sleeves with your free hand.

“Why don’t I drive you home then when you’re done shopping?” he offers.

You look at him surprised, needing to swallow first before you respond, “Oh, no, that’s okay ─ I don’t want to be a burden. We’re not that far from home anyways.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly. “It’s no big deal,” he insists, “I’d feel better taking you home than leavin’ you to walk home at this hour all alone.”

“R-really Toji, it’s okay,” you try to reassure him, adding a forced smile to top it off. You catch Megumi’s eyes moving between both you and his father. “I’m sure you two would rather get home than wait around for me.”

Toji drops one hand over the crown of Megumi’s head, roughing up his already unruly hair. “We’re fine, right kid?” The boy flashes him a glance, seemingly softening up to your presence. “Yeah, we’re fine,” he croons. “It’s not like I’m dropping you off on the other side of town,” he chuckles, the sound rolling off his gravelly voice in such a way even you can’t resist any further.

The two begin to idly follow you around, occasionally picking up their own desires here and there, but mainly curious over your selections. It’s kind of fun ─ even for you, to see what food others are interested in or getting to share your own favorites.

You spend some time as you walk trying to plan meals for the week. You hope to come up with something that can be utilized as leftovers, that way you have more time to focus on work. Eventually, you settle on making vegetable soup, at least for tonight.

It’s easy enough to make, plenty bit healthy, and you can leave it to simmer on the stove giving you time to wind down after all your hard work today. You can’t help but laugh when Megumi recoils at the sight of the bell peppers you add to your cart for the recipe.

“Not a fan, I take it?” you ask, and he shakes his head multiple times, even putting up his stuffed animal in front of his face as though it’ll save him from the evil vegetable that threatens his life.

“I keep tellin’ him to not be picky over his food,” Toji grunts, grabbing one of the peppers and teasing it in front of Megumi’s face. He simpers but avoids overdoing it so his son doesn’t leave here today traumatized.

Megumi decides he would be safer stepping away from his father to hide behind your leg this time, making you smile at the gesture.

“I wasn’t always a fan either, but once I grew up more, I came to love them,” you say, exaggerating ever so slightly to make a point. It isn’t a lie, but it does have Megumi looking up at you with a skeptic look ─ maybe a bit of intrigue as well. “But we all have things we don’t like, and that’s okay too,” you say to appease his worried thoughts.

“I think we should do that for dinner then,” Toji muses, mischief lacing his words. “He can watch you eat them and see what he’s missing out on.”

Both you and Megumi stare at the man like a doe and her fawn caught in the headlights. Smooth move inviting you to dinner with his son present. Now you’re can hardly refuse his offer, but would it be so bad just to accept? That thought continues in your mind as you finish up your shopping, fixing to head into the checkout aisle.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested, especially considering how much more relaxed you’re becoming around them. It’s nice not feeling the need to make yourself smaller or stutter every sentence, but it doesn’t make your thoughts any less so overwhelming at times. While it’s true he’s the one inviting you, that could also be out of courtesy as opposed to any actual interest. It wouldn’t shock you either way knowing how people are.

While lost in the onslaught of your reverie, you carelessly forgot to place a divider between yours and Toji’s groceries. You tense up, seeing that the cashier has already scanned a few of your items before you muster the courage to speak up, “I’m so sorry, but uh ─ we’re…not together.”

“You’re not?” the older woman responds with an “Oh my” gesture with a hand in front of her mouth to match. “I’m sorry, Miss. I thought you two were married. You sure do look the part!” she giggles innocently.

You can’t help the warm glow that bubbles of. Because of Megumi, no doubt. It does remind you however that you’ve not seen or heard his mother in the week since they moved in. It makes you wonder where she even is or if she’s still in the picture. At the end of the day, you feel that that’s his business, and yours not to ask. You wouldn’t appreciate others prodding at you for your life’s history, so you don’t plan on asking unless you absolutely need to.

Toji intervenes with a credit card neatly between his fingers like a game of cards. “All good, I’ll pay for everything,” he declares.

“Toji, I can’t let you do this, that’s too much!” you argue.

“I can if I want to have you over for dinner tonight,” he refutes, “We’ll be taking from each other’s ingredients anyways.”

“So then let me pay for half,” you try and offer up, shifting your hand to reach inside your purse to find your wallet.

Toji shakes his head, stopping you with his free hand. “No need, you can buy something nicer that money now.” His grin drips with satisfaction, already savoring an early victory. Megumi can’t help but look up from between you both again, raising an eyebrow curiously.

After successfully paying, Toji takes all the bags into his arms leaving you with just your purse in one hand, and Megumi’s palm in the other. He was the first to initiate it, and you’re more than happy to accept.

“Thank you for shopping with us,” the cashier waves as the three of you step away to leave, her eyes drifting to yours with a knowing smile. “And good luck, Miss!” she whispers and winks, hoping only you would hear (plot twist: he hear it too).

Thankfully, Toji’s car is parked close enough, but in no way did you expect to see a sleek black sports car turn on with the click of his key fob.

You make enough as a bartender to afford this?

One might argue that you should be the one driving luxury cars when your job description includes modeling as a key component. But as life is right now, you merely earn enough to pay the bills and then some. Your apartment isn’t anything grandiose either; if he can afford this sweet ride, then why not his own house?

His trunk opens with another press of the button, and Toji effortlessly places the bags down inside. Meanwhile, you assist Megumi with getting him into his car seat. He proves to be reliable enough to do it himself, so your main job is to hold his plush until he’s situated properly.

The interior of the car is just as pleasing to the eye as the outside with perfectly stitched leather seats and a clean floor to match. Your fingers make a beeline for the seat warmers to stave off the cold from your body. It’s early enough in the fall season still to have warmth during the day, but nights like tonight were chilly.

As you make yourself comfortable, you take notice to a jitte-styled weapon hanging off his rearview mirror in the form of a silver charm with a chain connecting to the pommel. It’s very unique, but you find it to be fitting for someone like Toji to have.

Toji comes down into the driver’s side a moment later and you’re hit with a sudden realization that you’re in his car. It’s more nerve-wracking now to be closed off in such a way with someone so new in your life. It doesn’t help that there isn’t any music playing to distract you either, but you feel more at ease with Megumi in the back. His car, his rules, not that it takes all that long to get home driving as opposed if you walked. His phone goes off a couple times along the way, but ultimately, he decides to let it run through to voicemail.

He parks his car in the building’s designated lot, tossing you his keys once outside without so much as a warning. You nearly fumble trying not to drop them, and thankfully you don’t, saving you the embarrassment.

“You mind taking Megs up first? I gotta make a call,” he asks.

“Yeah, no problem,” you reply, opening the door for the child in question. Megumi hands you his plushie once more so he can get out, wordlessly handing it back as you take his free hand into yours.

“Thanks, doll. I’ll be right behind you.”

You take your time heading up to the fourth floor at Megumi’s pace. You don’t mind given that it’s a school day, so he’s most likely as tuckered out as you are from working overtime.

Despite the fact that all the apartments in your building have the same floorplan, it still comes as a shock to you as you enter their home. Your sense of style comes easy to you with everything elaborately placed in all the colors you enjoy as well as trinkets on the walls to decorate the place. But Toji’s place? It’s simple, minimalistic, and true to what you know of him.

It's hard to tell what kind of things he enjoys when the personality you do see comes in the form of toys intended for Megumi’s usage. His other décor is scarce, the walls especially. Not a single shelf, artwork, or picture frame is to be found. He does however have a bookshelf but before you can think to read the titles, Megumi pulls on your hand, leading you over to the couch.

He turns the TV on easily enough, flipping channels until coming across some documentary about wolves that piques his interest. You don’t say anything for the sake of conversation, instead opting to take the win with how much he’s relaxing around you. The two of you may be more alike than you realize.

The front door opens after a short while with the sound of bags to follow. You leave your spot ─ much to Megumi’s discontent ─ to help his father with the door and getting to the kitchen area.

“I’m glad you accepted my offer,” he tells you while starting to unpack the groceries. You notice he puts aside most of your purchases, save for the assortment of peppers and a few other basic ingredients. “I’m not much of a cook as I am a barkeep but what are you hungry for?”

Taking into account everything laying out on the counters and what might be suitable for Megumi to eat, you come up with a few options in your head, one of which would take no time at all to whip up. So, you end up suggesting to the man, “Hmm, how about a stir fry?”

“Works for me,” He answers, pushing aside everything he’s certain to not need. There’s a good amount of ginger between the two of you which inadvertently gives you an idea in your head.

“Would it be alright if I help you cook?” you plead, “I have something I’d like to try for Megumi.”

“Sure, knock yourself out.” He winks.

Toji tasks himself with handling the meat, ensuring there’s plenty to go around. You on the other hand start your work with the vegetables, making sure to use a few peppers but also focusing on the ginger. The goal in mind ─ a ginger sauce. The flavor might be enough to distract Megumi from the taste of peppers, ensuring he gets a balanced meal.

You look over the counter into the living room where the boy sits, still engrossed in the documentary now showing off a pair of black and white wolves glued to each other’s side. It reminds you of a time when you were younger when Animal Planet or Discovery had better shows to watch compared to some of the cartoons airing. You’ll never forget the joy of catching an episode with Steve Irwin and whatever he was up to, making a mental note to see if Megumi would enjoy it too.

You soon finish up making the sauce, moving onto the rest of the vegetables to work on. While cutting them up to perfection, you can’t help but auto-pilot as your thoughts take over, wondering what the meaning behind tonight is.

Megumi’s mother doesn’t appear to be here currently. What would she think if she knew you were making dinner to enjoy with Toji and her son? The two of you have yet to meet, so in a way, it feels wrong.

A casual dinner between neighbors is one thing, but then comes a darker thought from the back of your mind that begs the question: is there some ulterior motive?

Being someone’s mistress is nowhere to be found on your bucket list. And while Toji hasn’t shown you any obvious red flags… how much do you really know about someone?

You hate that you think the worst of any given situation, but it’s not like you’re able to control it, at least right now. You’ve been through too much in life to not be this way to protect yourself from the cruelty of others. It doesn’t matter how detrimental it can be.

All you can hope at the end of the day is that Toji is different, unlike all that have come before. In time maybe you’ll get the answers to all the questions you have, or at least be able to come out unscathed.

“Shit.”

So long as you don’t forget that you’re the only one holding the knife.

Toji turns to you in a heartbeat at the sound of your hiss. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you mumble, pulling your hand away to see fresh blood trickling down your finger. It makes your stomach turn upside down and you’re quick to look away, feeling the burning sensation come on. “It’s nothing,” you assure the man.

He gently scoops your hand into his own, examining the injury with a focused expression. If you were of a sound mind, you might’ve noticed how your heart fluttered in this moment, but the painful sensation from your finger is too distracting.

“I can finish up here if you wanna get that cleaned up. I got a kit in the bathroom you can help yourself to.” He pauses, glancing up to your glossy expression. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay, thanks.” You nod and he hesitantly releases his hold on you with a noticeable exhale.

You leave the room, heading down the empty hallway to where you know the bathroom to be. The kit is easy to find underneath the sink, surprisingly stocked with more than enough supplies ─ save for any bandages not designed for kids. The thought of Toji wearing these little animal faces over a wound brings a smile back to your face as you rinse off the cut under the sink with soap and water.

In the reflection of the mirror, you spot Megumi standing in the doorway with his eyes on you. “Hi ‘Gumi.” You turn to face him, starting to apply the bandage to your finger.

He enters the bathroom, staring up with a worried look. “Are you okay?” he asks with a low voice; his eyes appearing to gloss over slightly.

“I’ll be fine, just had a little accident is all,” you try and say to make him feel better.

“Are you going to leave me?”

Huh? Leave?

“No, why would I leave you?” you ask with a gentle voice, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear a muffled sniffle as he lowers his head. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You crouch down, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I’m not going anywhere, ‘Gumi,” you promise.

Now you really hope Tsumiki’s right about Toji.

Megumi returns the hug and after a minute you both pull away and return to the living room together, hand in hand. It’s not long after that Toji declares dinner to be ready, and the three of you settle around the dining table, ready to eat up.

The first bite has your eyes widening out of surprise. You may have handled some of the sauce and seasonings, but Toji cooked the rest to perfection despite his claim about not being a good cook.

“Toji, this is really good.” You beam to the man, and he grins back confidently.

“Yeah? I think that’s just your work speaking,” he chuckles. “How ‘bout you, Megs?”

Megumi takes a cautious bite that includes one of the red peppers mixed in. His chewing is slow at first, but eventually relaxes and he moves to take another bite. “I like it,” he says, simple as that, and you’re glad it’s another win for you.

Toji was right earlier about Megumi watching you eat. The boy almost tries to make it a competition to keep up with you, but neither of you can beat out the large bites Toji takes of his plate. As much as grocery shopping can tell you of someone’s interests, so can the way they eat.

In this instance, Toji’s plate is adorned with large portions of meat, equally large in size so you know that’s his favorite. Megumi on the other hand seems more intent on getting as much of the sauce as he can get onto every single bite; perhaps he’s a fan of the ginger? He doesn’t finish all his peppers, but you’re happy he’s making the effort to try, nonetheless.

In the effort of making conversation this time, you start to ask, “So… Megumi, how old are you?”

His reply comes in the form of a mumble between bites, “Five.”

“Are you in kindergarten then?” He nods his head, taking a sip of his drink of choice from a pink elephant themed cup.

Toji chimes in, “Yeah, he just started it this season. Part of why we moved here.”

“Oh yeah?” You redirect your gaze to Megumi. “How do you like it so far?”

He seems unsure on how to reply with his typical quiet nature. You hope you aren’t pressing him too much with the questioning, despite your best intentions. Toji ends up answering for him, “He seems to like it.” He starts, taking another bite. “Kid’s got a few friends ─ what are their names again? Yuji, Nobara?” Megumi nods in turn, looking embarrassed like his biggest secret was just revealed. Toji turns back to you. “How about you, have you lived here long?”

“A few years now, I think…” your voice trails off as your eyes wander to the cityscape view beyond the windows. Nighttime has come and the moon is shining overtop the lights of the city, gleaming into the apartment. “I moved here as soon as I was able to and haven’t looked back.”

He hums with acknowledgement, standing from his seat, taking your dishes in the process.

“Oh, please, let me help clean,” you offer. “It’s the least I can do for everything tonight.”

He declines with a “Nope”, putting an emphasis on the P by way of a pop. “You already helped with the cooking, why don’t you relax with Megs till I finish up?”

You’re quickly starting to see that there is no such thing as winning in arguments when pitted against Toji. You’ll just have to find some other way to show your appreciation at a later date.

Megumi leads you over to the coffee table where he pulls out some paper and crayons to draw with. You decide to sit at the edge of the couch next to him, letting yourself relax as Toji suggested. This wasn’t the night of vegetable soup in bed that you originally planned for, but this unexpected event turned out to not be so bad, earlier thoughts aside.

Toji soon finishes up, making his way into the living room, where he leans himself over the back of the couch close to you both. At that point, Megumi’s drawing is complete, and he holds it up for you to take.

“For me?” You accept the sheet of paper and on it is Megumi’s best attempt at some rabbits he’s outlined in pink with red circles for eyes. It has your name written in the corner with as close a match to the color of your shirt, which also happens to be your favorite color. “Thank you, ‘Gumi, I love it!”

You ruffle his hair in appreciation which turns his face a bright red color. He goes back to coloring while you stand up from your seat, turning to Toji whose own face conveys a myriad of emotions you can’t quite read.

He snaps back to reality, nudging his head in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ve got your groceries bagged up on the counter for you, if you’re ready to get going.”

“Oh, thank you,” you reply, walking in that direction with the man.

“Hey.” He pauses for a brief second. “I’m glad you came over, and I hope you’ll come back. I’m sure Megs would love that too.”

You listen to his words while taking your bags in hand. “Of course, I’d be happy to,” you tell him, and honestly? You don’t even believe you’re lying. This was the nice, casual dinner you were hoping for.

Being around Toji forces you out of your comfort zone, but so far, it’s not been bad. Megumi is such a sweetheart too that you almost hate even thinking of his father in a lesser light. You just need to work through your trust issues and hope for the best. Hope that in whatever this is, that only something good will come of it.

“I’ll see you around sometime, Toji. Bye, Megumi!” you call out to the latter who gives you a quick wave in return.

“See you, neighbor.” Toji says, standing in the threshold of his apartment, long enough to watch you enter your own before returning back to his.

You sigh in relief once all your groceries are unpacked and put away. After a long day of meetings and the dinner next-door, the only thing on your mind now is catching up on sleep with Tsumiki resting happily in your arms.

You’ll need all the energy you can get to prepare for what’s to come.

☆ Notes: this chapter had i believe the most revision done for it cause boy was it messy originally lol. i still worry if there's enough of a balance between dialogue and descriptive text so i hope it's fine!

megumi is a tad bit hard for me to write at times cause honestly i'm not very interested in kids, especially younger ones plus i'm an aunt to an autistic child so my experiences are a lot different from others. HOWEVER i would mother megumi so hard if given the chance (tsumiki too)

#jjk #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji #jjk au #toji x female reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji x you #megumi fushiguro #model!reader

[maybe-limerence]

Hello! I absolutely loved going through your page, you have such wonderful writing and your color-coding of the pronouns adds such perfect emphasis! I would love to possibly colaborate some day, if not, I'm happy to just read your works!

If you wouldn't mind, I would like to request what would happen if Worshipper and Self-indulgant had the same innocent darling? It just seems like such an interesting fire and ice dynamic!

No Longer Yours

TW: Stabbing, implied murder,

Pronouns: Gender Neutral

AN: Oml, you’re so sweet <3, I’d love to collaborate with you ^^. Feel free to send a message! :) + sorry I took so long, I’ve been working on the flower folk individual posts T^T.

Yan! Ex boyfriend (Jay) x Reader x Yan! Ex’s Rival (Ezrah)

Yandere types: Worshipper, Self-Indulgent

Darling type: Innocent

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

You were so sweet and kind, always seeing the best in people. Especially those you love.

You had so much love in your heart, even for your boyfriend. Even when you thought he was cheating, you pushed it away.

He wouldn’t do that to me was a common thought. You thought he loved you as much as you loved him.

Oh how you were wrong :(

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

“Why? Was I not good enough?!” You whisper-shout.

You learned long ago that if you dare raise your voice at your boyfriend, you would be punished.

“You know what? No, you weren’t good enough. You are the most annoyingly boring person,” your boyfriend spat back.

Tears spilled down your cheeks, silently shaking you looked down.

“And now you’re crying, you know I hate when you cry,” your boyfriend reached out.

Slap

You smacked his hand away. Both of you looked at your action in disbelief.

Your boyfriend was the first to come to his senses. He was angry. Beyond angry actually.

“If you think I’m going to let you forget this, you’re sorely mistaken bitch.”

You looked at him in horror and shock. Backing away, not knowing what was to come, tears started flowing again.

He reached out and was about to grab you when your hand found the door knob and flung the door open.

Darting out, you ran as far as you could. You only had one thing on your mind.

I can’t let him get me.

You continued to run, run down the streets of your city.

You didn’t care your feet were being cut with the broken glass bottles from the bars, you didn’t care your body was screaming for air, you didn’t care that people were looking at you.

You just wanted to be safe.

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

A man looked to the night sky, not bothering to look at where he was going.

I wonder if it’ll rain tonight.

He was still wasn’t looking when he ran into a cold body, a small oomph coming from him as their body collided with his.

The person fell back.

At first he was upset. He wanted to go off on them, but then he saw who they were.

His rival’s partner.

His crush.

“Hey, are you ok?” He asked, offering his hand to them. To you.

When he saw how you flinched, his heart broke.

Were you being mistreated by that asshole?

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, soothingly.

You looked at him with so much fear that it confirmed his suspicions.

Still shaking, you pushed yourself to stand. The more you tried and failed, the more panicked you became.

“Do you need help up?” He asked with such loving kindness, you almost wanted to cry.

You shakily took his hand, and let him walk you to his house.

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

You were sitting in his bathroom as he was dressing your wounds. From what little you had seen of his apartment, it was nicer and cozier than your own.

You hissed in pain when he applied a disinfectant.

“It’s ok, I know it hurts, I’m sorry,” he spoke softly. He had been nothing but kind to you, cracking jokes to make you smile.

You recognized him. He was Ezrah, the man your boyfriend (well, now ex boyfriend) demonized often.

You didn’t understand why, he had been nothing but lovely to you. Much kinder than your ex.

“There, all done,” he smiled at you.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth. He looked like he was going to ask you something, but couldn’t find the words.

“Why were you running so fast? Was someone chasing you?” He finally decided.

You looked down and began to cry.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologized.

He never wanted to make you feel unsafe or uncomfortable

He just wanted to love you.

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

You had fallen asleep long ago, passing out from exhaustion.

Ezrah had placed you into his bed, something he dreamed of for so long. He just wished it could have happened under better circumstances…

He wanted to touch you, play with your hair, caress your cheek, kiss you, make love.

He restrained himself. He couldn’t possibly do that without you telling him you wanted that.

He didn’t know what you’d been through, and he didn’t want you to relive trauma.

He didn’t want to scare you.

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

Jay, your ex boyfriend, was walking through the city.

“You couldn’t have gone far,” he mumbled.

He wasn’t worried, you’d be back soon and he was pissed. You were his. His his his. You couldn’t do anything without him. You needed him.

As soon as he felt a rain drop land in his head, he swore that when you turned up you’d be in so much trouble.

He ran home, rain soaking his clothes.

When you get back, you’re dead.

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

Three days passed. Three days of bliss.

You had been treated kindly, you felt safe. You felt loved. You felt like you.

Ezrah had waited on you hand and foot. Anything you wanted (which wasn’t much) you got.

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

Three days passed. Three days of agony.

Jay was losing patience.

He would have blown up your phone, but you left it behind.

He had destroyed your apartment, called all your family (he didn’t allow you to have friends).

None of your family members knew where you were.

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

Summer break was coming to an end. You started freaking out.

Jay had forced you to pick the same classes as him, and you were going to get your class list.

You would be separated from Ezrah.

Ezrah noticed your mood. He understood you so well, your nervous habits shown clear as day to him.

“What’s on you mind?” He asked as he poured you a cup of tea.

“I applied for the same classes as…” you trailed off.

“I see,” He replied.

As soon as he set the cup down, he walked out the room.

“I need to make a quick phone call.” He smiled at you.

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

Knock Knock

A light knock came at Jay’s door and a feeling of anger bubbled in his chest.

It had to be you.

He opened the door, expecting to see your teary face and hear pitiful apologies, but instead was met by a stab to the wrist and a gloved hand over his mouth.

He tried to scream and struggled, but the weight and weapon made it hard to move.

Jay’s eyes pricked with tears as the blade was ripped violently out of his joint.

The door was closed with a swift kick.

💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷💔🩷💔🤍🩷💔🤍🩷

The day after you confided in Ezrah, you saw Jay, or what blurry thing was named Jay shown on the news broadcast.

You covered your mouth in horror. He must’ve died a horrible, gruesome death for the news to have to blur out so much.

Ezrah walked into the room, and seeing your distressed expression made his heart hurt.

He did the right thing, but to have you look so frightened was awful.

Ezrah pulled you into a hug, offering comfort as you cried into his shoulder, you not noticing the slight smirk in his voice.

Just as it should be.

#yandere #darling #oc stuff #maybe limerence #yandere types #yandere x reader #yandere x you #innocent darling #worshipper yandere #self indulgent yandere

[katesmemes]

feel free to change any pronouns, etc.

“C’mon now, [Name], lets keep moving.”

“It’s always just been me and [Name].”

“I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

“That’s a lot of money to owe…”

“Just what did you get yourself involved in?”

“Are you in town for a business trip, maybe?”

“Well, when your own life is that dull, you need to get your excitement somewhere…”

“Now, don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“This is exactly the kind of behavior [Name] warned me about.”

“She’s just the worst to every girl she perceives as a threat.”

“So… You’re saying I’m not a threat?”

“I know there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“You don’t seem to care whether I’m happy.”

“Curiosity killed the cat…”

“I’m not used to having people around me while I work.”

“Hey, come on, don’t leave me hanging!”

“I’m sorry to add to your plate, but…I really need your help.”

“Are you telling me I should snoop around?”

“Ah, c’mon, a little joke’s never killed anyone.”

“Although it may seem like it, I’m not actually clairvoyant.”

“I’d forget my own head if I didn’t write everything down.”

“The way they look at each other, you can tell it’s the real deal.”

“Maybe it’s because my empathy only goes so far, but… I admire that you’re able to feel for just about anyone.”

“I don’t think I get along with everyone, but some people are worth getting friendlier with…like you.”

“The way you turned that compliment right back around at me, was…masterful.”

“I bet you could make anything look good.”

“Just what could’ve made you empty out your entire bank account?”

“I’ve never seen two people more suited for each other.”

“I need to know I can count on you.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“I think my heart stopped beating there for a moment.”

“If you weren’t so pretty, you’d have been out of a job a long time ago.”

“What the hell are you going on about?”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, [Name].”

“I hope I didn’t get you into too much trouble earlier…”

“I guess the heart wants what the heart wants…”

“Adults can be so…confusing.”

“I can’t believe it all ends here.”

“Thank you for not giving up.”

“I would never give up on you.”

“Come on, you know I wouldn’t let you down.”

“I’m not sure I understand what the plan is here.”

“I enjoy the occasional, artistic endeavor.”

“I feel like I’m in one of those novels I spend my days reading.”

“I just love trying new things.”

“I could not have done this without you.”

“I’m glad I was able to be of some help.”

“Thank you for everything.”

“Hey, just because I read books doesn’t mean I know everything.”

“That’s a lot sweeter than I expected.”

“I do like a happy ending.”

“We could leave together if you’d like.”

“Even the most put-together person could be an absolute mess on the other side of the door.”

“I like to think that, with me, what you see is what you get.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to bring the lights back on.”

“Hey, you look a bit pale…”

“Is everything okay?”

“you’re not scared of the dark, are you?”

“Maybe you need to sit down, huh?”

“You look like you’re about to faint.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Maybe don’t mention that to the police.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.”

“I’m…ashamed of the truth.”

“Maybe now you can understand why I care so much about you…”

“I’d really like for us to be more than just friends, [Name]...”

“Promise me you’ll be careful with the information you share.”

“Sorry, I was…distracted.”

“I really need you to focus right now.”

“I don’t want to be here all night, and I’m sure you don’t either.”

“I suggest you tell me everything you know.”

“We all struggle sometimes.”

“There was no point in staying if you were leaving.”

“I’m flattered, but that really wasn’t necessary.”

“You’re the most charming person I know!”

“I’m really glad I have you in my life.”

“Sorry, my mind wanders sometimes.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“I just want them to be happy…”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“You can’t do this!”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp starter sentences #rp starters #starter sentences #rp sentence starters #roleplay starters #sentence starters #ask prompt #ask meme #video game sentence starters #this bed we made sentence starters #this bed we made starter sentences

[harrywavycurly]

I love your eddie munson/imaginary friend serious. it’s so adorable and just very nostalgic. I have an idea.. what if the roles were REVERSED. The reader is having a bad day, maybe all these human things are just confusing and overwhelming them (possibly feeling anxiety for the first time?) so eddie is the one to comfort them. Again, this is all kinda new to them so at first the reader is like 😳 but after a while they are like “oh..this is nice.” feel free to trash this, it was just a thought :)

Hiii lovey!! Ohhh I LOOOVVEEE this idea!! I’m so glad you enjoy the imaginary friend series it’s one of my faves as well! So I hope you enjoy this, I tweaked it a bit but I still hope you like it!💖

-find all things Eddie’s Wish here✨

“I don’t know what-” Eddie stops talking once he realizes you’re no longer following him into the living room. When he turns around he raises an eyebrow when he sees you just standing in the middle of the kitchen with an odd look on your face.

“This isn’t working.” Your voice is lower than normal as you turn so you can face the coffee maker that has your new mug sitting underneath it. “Why isn’t it working? It always works when I press the big button and now it’s just not doing anything.” Eddie stands there for a moment while he watches you forcefully press the button on the machine a few times. “I don’t get it? Why isn’t it working?” Your voice is now trembling and it suddenly dawns on Eddie, you’re upset.

“Hey it’s okay.” He is quick to rush over and grab your hand before you can press the button again. “It’s just out of water…it’s gonna be fine.” He explains once he sees the button glow red after you angrily press it one more time for good measure with your free hand making Eddie let out a sigh.

“Why wouldn’t it just tell me that?” Eddie doesn’t know how to answer that so he just remains silent as he turns so he’s fully facing you. He takes this opportunity to look at your face and he feels this weird feeling overtake him when he sees your bottom lip start to wobble a bit and your eyes get glossy. “I can’t fix it if it doesn’t tell me there’s something wrong.” Before he knows what he’s doing his arms are wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest for a tight hug.

“You don’t have to fix everything.” He mumbles into the top of your head as your arms wrap around his middle. “This is called being frustrated by the way.” He adds as you rest your cheek against the fabric of his shirt.

“It’s not my favorite of the human emotions.” Eddie just laughs at your honesty. “If I was capable of it I’d probably be crying right now.” Eddie silently thanks whatever deity that brought you to him for your lack of tears because he knows if he ever had to see you cry it would break him.

“Want me to make you some coffee? Or do you still uhm…need me?” He asks as he tries to slowly move his arms from around your shoulders. You answer his question by releasing your hold on him and taking a step away from him so he can get access to the coffee maker.

“You know you’re the only thing that I can always fix.” Eddie playfully rolls his eyes as you reach for his hand so you can give it a squeeze.

“Who knew dealing with a coffee maker would be harder than dealing with me.” You just laugh and Eddie smiles as he feels himself start to relax now that he’s filled the water tank up and there’s fresh coffee pouring into your new mug.

#Eddie’s wish series #Eddie Munson x imaginary!friend reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

[certainlynotasimp]

I bring forth many more incorrect Sunny and Migs quotes!

-

Miguel: Is something burning?

Sunny, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my desire for you.

Miguel: Sunny, the toaster is literally on fire.

-

Miguel: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

Sunny: It was autocorrect.

Miguel: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?

Sunny: Yes.

-

Miguel: I owe you one.

Sunny: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

-

Sunny: That was so hot, Miguel.

Miguel: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.

Sunny: I'm so in love with you.

-

Sunny: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.

Miguel, joking: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.

-

[When Miggy and Sunny finally get engaged, to the rest of the spider crew]

Miguel: We’re getting married, bitches!

Sunny: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.

-

Miguel: I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response.

Sunny: Wow. They sound stupid.

Miguel: But they’re not. They’re really smart actually. Just dense.

Sunny: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Miguel: I guess you’re right. Hey Sunny, I love you.

Sunny: See! Just say that!

Miguel: Holy fucking shit.

Sunny: If that flies over their head then, sorry Miguel, but they're too dumb for you.

Miguel: Sunny...

-

Sunny: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning.

Miguel: This is a lie.

Miguel: I'm literally dating them. This is a lie.

Miguel: THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS.

-

Miguel: I want to be with you for the rest of my life.

Sunny: Damn, that sounds like a marriage proposal.

Miguel, getting down on one knee: That's 'cause it is.

-

Miguel: I like your new pants!

Sunny: Thanks, they were 50% off!

Miguel: I’d like them better if they were 100% off. *winks*

Sunny: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.

Miguel: That’s… not what I meant.

Sunny: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Miguel.

-

Miguel walking into the kitchen and seeing all their limes peeled: Sunny, I love you but, what the h-e-double FUCK.

Sunny, sipping coffee happily: I love you too :)

-

Sunny: Miguel and I are no longer dating.

Miguel: Sunny, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

-

Sunny: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?

Miguel: I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shoot me. Because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

-

Miguel: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.

Sunny: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely*

Miguel: That one. I want that one.

-

Sunny: Are we fighting or flirting?

Miguel: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck-!

Sunny: Your point?

-

Miguel: I am so cool. I am an absolute Chad. I am the epitome of coolness and awesomeness—!

Sunny: Hi.

Miguel: *melts down in a flustered heap of softness*

-

Miguel: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Sunny: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out in bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

I’m not even gonna add on to this glorious post other than I’m proud🥹

#miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #across the spiderverse #fanfic

[callivich]

Just a reminder for anyone new or anyone who has been lurking:

I know it’s difficult coming into a new fandom but everyone in the Gallavich fandom on tumblr is very friendly and kind, so don’t feel nervous - just jump in and say hi.

Make an intro post and check the #gallavichintro tag to find fellow fans!

Like seriously just send a message or reply to a post. We’re here to have fun, the idea of new people is great because it means more engagement.

When I say people are nice, I mean it. I’ve been in so many different fandoms over 20+ years and this is genuinely the kindest group of people I’ve ever encountered online in a fandom space.

Give your blog an icon. People tend to assume that ones without are spam blogs and may block immediately. Here are some great icons you can use with credit: here / here / here

If you’d like a Gallavich banner for your blog, send me a message - I’d be so happy to make you one! I’ve got ones free to use here / here.

Please don’t steal gifs and repost them, here’s a great post explaining why. And another one explaining the gif search function.

Reblog content you enjoy and write in the tags or reply to the post - how much you liked something or if you have other thoughts…..creators love to hear this!

Use the tags. They’re the best way to get your posts noticed if you’re new- #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ianxmickey any or all of these will work. When you make a post, you should see a little grey box that says something like add tags to help people find your post, just type in there. (You don’t need to use the # symbol. Tumblr automatically does that.)

There are so many brilliant active communities that you can take part in - I’ve done a roundup post here & I will update it with new communities.

If you feel creative? Got for it. Don’t worry about what people think, just share your work. Write that fic or headcanon or meta, draw that art, create that gifset, design that aesthetic piece, share that playlist. Chances are that a lot of people will enjoy your work!

Don’t feel shy about promoting your work either - tag it with #gallavich & the tags mentioned above.

Recommend what you’ve enjoyed! There is no time limit on sharing links to fic, art, headcanons, gifsets, posts of any kind…..reblog/share what you love and keep sharing it. Whether it’s brand new or years old, sharing the work is great idea.

Go back and explore things. Older fics on ao3, gifsets and art from years past, moodboards and headcanons that are years old. None of these things have an expiration date. So reblog them, share them, let people experience them for the first time and allow people to enjoy them for the 2nd/3rd/4th time.

Comment!! It’s such an important thing to do in fandom. Whether it’s on new work or old work, whether you write long comments or just a keyboard smash and emojis - it’s great way to share love to creators, to support/encourage/inspire them and to get involved in fandom. Check out Ian and Mickey’s guide to commenting and other posts about commenting: here // here // here

Share your ideas. Whether it’s headcanons or meta or fics or art, share it. Feel free to explore your ideas. There’s always room for discussion, analysis and creativity.

If you see ask memes or tag games going around, take part! Or even reblog one of these games and tag some people you’d like to get to know better! Don’t feel intimidated, it’s always nice to be tagged.

Keeping reblogging posts. Not just once or twice but again and again. The queue is there for a reason. And each time you do? You’re sharing it with your dash.

Remember, pretty much everyone starts out as a lurker and when it comes to being creative - everyone starts at the beginning. Those writers and artists and creators that you are in awe of? They all started out at square one. Everyone practices and creates over and over again, that’s how it goes. The more you write or draw or create, the better you get. And fandom loves to see it.

Need ideas or inspiration? I’ve got lots and lots of prompts for you!

This is a relatively small-ish fandom but it’s active and there is nothing nicer than new people joining, so don’t hesitate - jump in. It’s so much fun and we’d love you to join us! 💖

If anyone has any tips or encouragement they’d like to share, please reply to this post! 💖

And if you have any questions about using tumblr, send me an ask!

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #calli talks #encouragement post for lurkers #this is a revised and updated version of the post I shared last year

[berberriescorner]

Nobody's Gonna Know

(Part One)

Characters: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as himself x Black!reader (woc!reader), Michael B. Jordan as himself (appearance), and Kiana Ledé as “Jerrika” (appearance).

Summary: What happens when you realize what you’ve always wanted was right in front of your face the entire time?

Warnings: Profanity, daddy kink (you’re not surprised), smut, mentions of violence, drinking, and did I mention smut already😈?

Word Count: (Part One) 4,100+/9,000+. Sorry, lovelies, I couldn’t stop😆.

A/N: Yes, it’s lengthy, but the idea snowballed into something unexpected. I hope you all enjoy it!

Inspired By:

Lounging lazily on your king-size bed, you laid on your back comfortably in an oversized t-shirt. You silently scrolled through Instagram. Your breath hitched at the feel of fingertips gently stroking your calves. Still staring at the phone screen, a wicked little idea popped into your head. You smirked, tapping the add a new post button. Using your free hand, you positioned it atop the head that rested on your pelvis and between your thighs. Not wanting to give him reason to stir, you gently stroked his head, and he relaxed into your touch. The movement of your hand paused long enough to snap the picture. He was none the wiser as he continued to search for something to watch on HBO Max. Eyes still searching the screen, he turned his head slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“Soft ass thighs.”

A soft moan fell from your lips. You made sure Yahya’s face wasn’t in the shot. Your digits glided across the keyboard, adding a Nicki Minaj lyric as the caption, “My man full, he just ate💦😘.” You tapped the post button and laid your phone on the nightstand.

Yahya had just licked you to tears. No one knew about the two of you. That you started as best friends turned into a sneaky link. The both of you have secretly been trying to figure out what this was morphing into. Unsure of where things were going, you decided to keep things quiet. You both enjoyed teasing the people in your inner circle on IG (they were all extremely nosey). Thus the reason for posting said pic—that it would sometimes get a rise out of the other person was a bonus.

Yahya received a notification that you had posted. Still lying between your legs, he teased, “What thirst trap are you posting now?” He froze, seeing a picture of his current position. He huffed, “You for real?”

Yahya rolled over, still lying on top of your stomach. His hand rained down on your thigh.

“I thought this was supposed to be on the low? You damn near ripped my head off for telling my bro I was over here in the middle of the night. I guess the rules only apply to me,” Yahya grumbled. His face changed from frustration to a sly grin.

“Boy, calm down. Nobody’s going to know that’s you. That’s what makes it so exciting, you teased. “And why do you have that stupid grin on your face?”

“I just noticed the caption, so I’m your man now?”

“Don’t do too much. They’re just lyrics. Relax, my guy.”

“Yeah, right. When are we going to stop playing this game?”

“What game, Yah'?”

“Stop acting like this isn’t more than just a sneaky link now. I’ve been blowing your back out for over four months.”

“And I greatly appreciate it. Why do we have to get into specifics? We have amazing sex. No need to make it more complicated.”

“Are you dating anyone else? I know you better not be fucking anybody other than me, Y/N.”

“I’d hardly call a few dinner dates that haven’t gone past friends, dating. It’s been nothing but innocent, Yah'.”

His jaw ticked at the revelation of you being in the presence of another man’s company.

“For the record, I don’t make a habit of having more than one sexual partner. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“You refuse to let that shit go, huh? I slept with her one time! We had just started whatever this was at the time. I cut her off once I knew this wasn't a one-and-done situation. Who exactly did you go on a date with, sweetheart?”

The question and term of endearment dripped with jealousy. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for more confrontation. There was no doubt in your mind that the answer would upset him.

“Michael. I know you don’t like him. We just went on two dates. Nothing happened, Yah'.”

He pulled into a seated position on the mattress.

“Out of all these thirsty ass dudes that beg for your attention. He had to be the one you said yes to. How many times have I told you that’s a waste of your time? How do I get you to understand that he just wants to knock you down?”

“Is that not what you’re doing with me?“

“Stop that shit. You know how I feel about you. Your ass doesn't want to hear it because you’re scared. We both know this could be so much more.”

“This is stupid. Why are we arguing? We’re not a couple. This is supposed to be easy and chill.”

“There you go deflecting as usual,” he sighed.

“Do you want me to delete the damn picture, Yahya? It’s the reason this conversation even took place.”

“No, no. Leave it up. You know what? You’re right, love. Lay back down. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”

Yahya was the least bit worried about your IG post. It was only for close friends, and he wanted them to wonder. Acting angry was just a means to an end. He had a reason to get his lick back. Now, he had an excuse for what he was planning.

Hearing you went on two dates with Michael sent jealousy coursing through his veins. He made a mental note to keep his enemies closer. Seeing that you were focused on the show, he went to Instagram. Yahya went to Michael’s page and added him to his close friends. 

He wanted to see how your friends were reacting to your photo. He pulled up your page and skimmed through the comments. Yahya chuckled at your best friend's comment. In bold letters, she said, “Okay, best friend! I see you! No clue who that is, but get that head in your comfortable bed! Yaaasss👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾. I expect full details and a face reveal when we link tomorrow. I’m tired of all this damn anonymity.” Yahya laughed, knowing that you weren’t giving up any information.

Yahya waited two days before he put his plan in motion. He hit your line, inviting you for a movie night at his place. You were sure the night would end on your back with Yahya between your thighs. Anytime the two of you were alone, your hands always seemed to roam. Every time you two gave into temptation, it would go for rounds. Knowing this, you brought an overnight bag. He knew just how to put you to sleep.

Only twenty minutes into the movie, you were already at the edge of the mattress. Yahya placed you on all fours with your box braids wound tightly around his hand. He tugged at them, pulling you into the most perfect of arches. His free hand crept to the top of his nightstand. You were plunged deep into the throes of passion and hadn’t noticed him pick up his phone. The only light in the room came from the television. Pistoning in and out of your tight walls, he managed to open Instagram. Yahya needed it to be pitch black to pull off his scheme.

“Nobody watching this shit for real, baby. Alexa! Turn off the tv in the master bedroom,” he groaned.

The tv shut off as he pulled out and slammed back into your slick heat.

“Ye-yes. Fuck, baby,” you cried, arching your back deeper.

His face lit up at that. He continued giving slow, deep strokes as he recorded you both in the dark.

Yahya made sure this was for close friends only. With confirmation, he laid the phone on the mattress next to the two of you. He proceeded to put in work, going crazy in your walls. Your sweet, soft, and sensual moans were like music to his ears. You were used to Yahya laying some good pipe, but tonight he was on demon time. This man was trying to tear your walls down and ruin you for any other man.

“Feel me deep in your shit, baby?”

You moaned in response.

He thrust so deep that your hands instantly flew to his abdomen. You tried to push back against his stomach, wanting him to take it easy on you. He growled, binding your wrist with his free hand.

“Move your fuckin’ hands,” he half moaned, half growled. His hand let go of your hair and rained down, smacking and grabbing your left cheek. He slapped the right cheek before burying his digits in your braids again. “I thought you could take all of it, baby? That’s what you begged for. Right, love? Hmm? This ain’t what you wanted?”

You whimpered.

A faint “Please, Daddy” escaped your lips. 

“What is it, baby? Use your words.”

“I can-ah!”

“Yes, you can, baby. You gon’ be my good girl, and take it,” he whispered, trailing kisses down your back, fully sheathing himself inside you. His length tapped that spot deep within you.

 “Y-yes, baby, I’ll take it, g-give me that di-Yes, Yah'!”

Yahya tapped at your spot repetitively, sending you spiraling. You buried your face in the mattress, clawing at the bedding. Your release approached, barreling toward you like a freight train as you attempted to muffle your screams in the sheets.

“Good. Fucking. Girl. Each word was highlighted with another thrust. “Yeah, come just like that, mama.”

Satisfied with himself, Yahya ended the video and posted it to his stories. He hoped none of your closest friends would recognize your voice. There was only one person he needed to figure it out, Michael. Yahya knew you were going to throw a fit, but so long as nobody could see you. He felt he could get you to be cool with it. Leaning against you, he licked, nibbled, and kissed your shoulder. He was still plunged deep inside you and solid as a rock. Yahya’s lips trailed over to your ear. Releasing a deep groan, he rasped, “Hope you got one more in you, love. Daddy needs to come too. He pulled out until it was just the tip. About to respond, he plunged deep inside, forcing you to gasp. Yahya pulled two more orgasms from your body before spilling inside you.

He made quick work of getting a warm cloth to clean you up. You moaned at the sweet actions of his aftercare. Yahya smirked at how easily it was to turn you on. He swaggered into the bathroom and finished cleaning himself up. 

Collapsing into bed, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours. Rolling onto your side, you pushed back against him, making yourself the little spoon. Yahya’s hand crept from your thigh and up the side of your body. His large palm found its destination as it gently cupped your breast. His lips left light kisses on your shoulder and neck.

“You’re always trying to cop a feel,” you sassed, sucking your teeth.

“You know this is my emotional support Titty.”

“Shut up, Yah',” you giggled.

Yahya bit his lip and smirked as he tweaked your nipple.

“Uhn-uh! If you’re going to be on my body like this, your ass needs to behave and sit still. I’m exhausted thanks to your big dick bandit ass,” you teased.

“You know you like that shit,” he responded, tugging at your nipple again.

He pressed his semi-hard erection against you. The action caused your breath to hitch.

“Tell me you don’t want me again, and I’ll let you sleep,” he whispered, nibbling your earlobe.

About to reply sarcastically, you lost your train of thought as he dipped his hand between your thighs.

“You were saying something, love?”

“Fuck, you don’t play fair,” you panted.

“Come here, mama. Want you to ride me.”

Sliding down his length, it became clear you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“Yah', baby,” you whined.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m going to make you feel good. Ride me, mama,” he urged, guiding your hips.

Though he had fallen asleep satiated and peacefully, his morning was the opposite. Yahya jolted out of his sleep as he struggled to breathe. You had covered his face with a pillow while chastising him.

“I just know your big-headed ass didn’t record us fucking and post it to close friends! Please tell me my eyes are deceiving me.”

Yahya's hand tugged at the pillow over his face. He snatched the pillow, throwing it across the room. He overpowered you, flipping you onto your back as he smirked.

“What’s wrong? You don’t want your side hoes to find out about me?”

“The only side hoe I have is you.”

“Naw, sweetheart. I’m your main dude. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Whatever! You better hope nobody recognizes my voice, freaky ass,” you kissed your teeth.

“Oh, I hope they do,” he smiled. “You’re not even mad, for real. I know that shit lowkey turns you on. Listen to those pretty little moans, mama.”

You did your best to bite back a smile but lost. Yahya licked his lips, giving you a million-dollar smile.

“I know I sound good. You ain’t gotta sweat me or nothin’.”

“I should’ve left the lights on while I recorded that shit. Give them something to really talk about.”

“You want to tell people we fuck so bad,” you teased.

“It’s going to come out sooner or later. I’ma make you mine, shortie. You can continue to run from it but in the end. You’re going to be mine.”

Wanting to avoid such a touchy topic, you switched the subject.

“Boy, shut up and feed me. I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast, best friend?”

Yahya smiled devilishly, “This dick.”

“Nasty ass. I want food, Yah',” you whined.

“That’s a whole ass meal, fuck you mean?”

Eyes rolling and smacking your teeth, he laughed.

“I forgot how cranky you can be in the mornings. Let’s get the baby’s tummy full. What do you want to eat, baby girl,” he responded in his best baby voice.

“Can you make french toast and bacon? You make it better than I do,” you asked in a cute tone.

“You know I can’t say no to that voice and face. Come on, spoiled brat,” he teased as he slapped your thigh.

Yahya scooped you from the bed, dangling your body over his shoulder. His hand grabbed a handful of your behind, giving it a loud smack.

“Ouch, Yah'! That hurt,” you whined.

“I didn’t mean to smack it that hard. My bad,” he smirked, rubbing the pain away.

“Lying ass.”

Carting you off to the kitchen, he got you fed and full. Neither of you had anything planned. The two of you spent the remainder of your Sunday binging television and ordering takeout. 

When the time came for you to head out, Yahya felt his chest tighten. He was sad to see you leave. If only you two could figure out where to go from here. He’d have you sleeping in his bed every night. Little did you know, your best friend’s feelings for you had existed as long as the friendship had. He just never knew how to tell you. The chemistry and attraction lingered between the two of you. That is, until one drunken night, he did something about it. He fell back on his couch, missing you already, as his mind drifted back to that night.

You were spiraling down a black hole of heartbreak. Yahya came running to offer support and a listening ear to vent to. 

His fist balled up, jaw flexing as his memory replayed the image of you opening the door. 

Your eyes were bloodshot and glassy as you did your best to keep from crying again. Yahya’s heart sank seeing how distraught you were. He stepped closer to you, and in a low baritone, he said, “Hey, mama.” The sympathy in his soothing voice sent a fresh trail of tears rolling down your cheeks. He sighed as his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. Yahya’s chin rested on your head as you curled into his chest, body trembling as the tears flowed. “You’re going to be straight, mama. I promise I got you,” he soothed, rubbing his hands up and down your back. He gave you a minute or two to let it all out. Releasing you, he bent back, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe your tears. Yahya leaned forward, sweeping you up bridal style. “Let’s get you comfy on the couch. I’ll fix us some drinks and snacks. Then you can tell me everything, alright?” Giving him a faint nod, Yahya kicked the door closed. He made quick work of getting you situated on the couch. Yahya wrapped you in your comfort blanket. Gently kissing your forehead, he whispered, “Be right back, love.”

He called from the kitchen, “Are you in the mood for something light or heavy?”

“This calls for the hard shit. Bring the tequila. I don’t even need a damn chaser. Give me something that will make me forget the last twenty-four hours.”

Yahya strode back into the living room, alcohol in hand.

“What are you about to tell me, love?”

“Maybe you should take a couple of shots first.”

Yahya set the shot glasses and bottle on the coffee table. His hand ran down his face as he took a deep breath, “Am I going to have to beat his ass?”

You sat up straight, dropping the blanket around your waist. Pouring two shots, you answered, “Just promise me you won’t lose your temper.”

“No.”

“Yah', please,” you begged, voice trembling.

“The desperation in your voice tells me that I’m going to regret this, but fine, I promise not to lose my temper. What happened?”

“Drink first.”

Shots were thrown back, and you grimaced, pouring out two more. After the second, you started to pour another round, but Yahya’s hand gently grasped your wrist, “No-.”

A small whimper fell from your lips as his eyes grew. Yahya’s eyes darted from your weary ones down to your wrist. His hands were like lightning as he slid your sleeve up a bit.

“No, fuck that, mama! Is this a bruise?” 

“You promised, Yah'.”

“Promises are meant to be broken. Where the fuck is his punk ass at?”

He sprang from the couch, searching his pockets for his keys.

“Where’s he at?”

“No, please, Yahya. You promised! I handled it.”

“Why are you protecting his bitch ass? Has he been putting his hands on you this whole time?”

“I’m not protecting him. I know he’ll press charges against you. It’s not worth it. This is the only time it’s happened, honestly!”

“Don’t lie for him. Tell. Me. Where. He. Is.”

“I’m not lying, Yah'. This is the first time. I handled it, I swear. You should see the side of his face. I smacked the shit out of him.”

“Did he hit you anywhere else,” he asked, checking your face and body for more bruises.

“No, I’m telling you the truth. We were arguing about him getting caught up in his lies and cheating. I told him I was done and that he needed to get the hell out of my house. This dude had the nerve to snatch my wrist, demanding I hear him out. I told him he was hurting me. His response was he didn’t give a fuck. That pissed me off, so I slapped him. He charged at me, and I kicked him in the nuts. How do you cheat on me with a bitch I called a friend and have the nerve to be mad that I no longer wish to be with you? The audacity!”

“I pray he tries to show up while I’m here.”

“He won’t. It’s over, and he understands that now.”

Yahya looked at you, not quite believing it.

“I told his ass if he tried contacting or coming near me again that you’d beat his ass. That or he was going to have a chat with Nina.”

“Thought you didn’t want me to put hands on him. You swear your ass is tough with that baby Glock. Who the fuck puts hot pink on the butt of their gun,” he retorted.

“I don’t want you to, smart-ass, but he knows you would. It was only said to get my point across that I was done with him. Not too much on my baby, Nina.”

Yahya sighed, frustrated that he’d have to keep his promise. He reclaimed his spot on the couch, crossing his arms irritated. You kissed your teeth, “I know you're not mad at me for keeping you out of trouble?”

“It’s whatever. He needs his ass beat, though,” he sulked.

“Just leave it alone, Yah'.”

“I heard you the first time.”

The room grew quiet. It stayed that way for a little while. That was until he heard you sniffling.

“I’m not mad at you, love. I just really want to rock his shit.”

“I know you’re not mad at me. It’s just.”

“What is it, mama?”

“Am I not good enough? Dudes do me dirty, and people I call friends turn out to be grimy. You’re the only person who has always been down for me. I’m so thankful for your years of loyalty and friendship,” you rambled, tears sliding down your face.

Yahya pushed his anger aside, taking a deep breath. His hands reached for your arm, pulling you into him. His palm cradled your head, guiding you to lie against his chest. He kissed your temple, speaking words of encouragement.

“That’s just god's way of making room for the real ones to come into your life, mama. You’re going to be alright, love. You’ll shake back from this. You’re strong, girl. The right man is out there. He’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

As he held you, speaking enlightenment into you. Something shifted inside you. Not quite sure what the feeling was, you shook it off.

“More tequila,” you offered.

The pair of you went shot for shot. It only took a short time for you both to get drunk off your asses. In a drunken stupor, you both laughed as you recounted the numerous times you had to fake a climax with your ex. Yahya was in tears, holding his stomach, laughing uncontrollably.

“This man had to be talked through eating the box. Every. Single. Time. At what point do you finally get the gist of eating pussy? I can’t believe I stayed as long as I did.”

“Why did you stay?”

“The dick was big.”

A hand flew to your mouth, covering your lips, shocked at what you had just revealed.

“Sorry. That was probably too much information. I need to stop drinking,” you slurred, no longer able to look him in the eyes.

Yahya cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Not too much. That’s some pretty useful information,” he rasped.

Your breath hitched as you looked into his chocolate orbs.

“I don’t follow.”

“That’s what you like, mama?”

Yahya’s hand trailed to your neck. His fingers circled your throat, giving a light squeeze. You knew you should pull away, but your mind and body said two different things.

“Yahya,” you whispered.

“Answer me, mama. That’s what you like?”

You moaned, nodding your head yes. Yahya licked his lips at your response. 

“I want to hear you say it, love. Tell me what you like. I want to make sure you understand what I’m trying to say,” he groaned.

The liquor urged you to take it further. You leaned closer, his hand still squeezing your throat. Lips only inches apart, Yahya watched in awe as you answered, breath tickling his lips.

“I love a big, long, thick di-.”

Before you could finish the sentence, Yahya groaned and devoured your lips. Not giving it a second thought, he slid you on top of his lap as your tongues battled for dominance. Hand still placed around your neck, you ground against his lap, loving the groan he released. 

“I can see why that was useful information now,” you purred.

It was evident, even inside his jeans, you could feel that he was massively large. You pulled back, slipping your shirt off, dropping it to the floor. His eyes sparkled at the sight of your breast as he cupped them, kissing and suckling your neck.

“Are you sure this is what you want, mama?”

“Yes, I want you, Yah'. Fuck the pain away, please.”

Kissing your lips again, he held you close as he raised from the sofa. Arms wrapped around his neck. You tasted each other's lips as Yahya carried you to the bedroom. The following morning wasn’t even awkward. That’s probably because you woke up with Yahya’s head between your thighs. A serious discussion occurred over breakfast. Though you both decided it probably shouldn’t happen again, time would reveal that it was too late to turn back.

I know I left it on yet another cliffhanger, but that's my specialty😆. I got my lovelies, though. The fic is complete, so slide on over to part two. Before you go, leave a comment and tap the love button. Reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶🏾!

Gif Credit: @abdulmateens, thanks again for allowing me to use it for my mood board💗.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics.

Tagging a few lovelies:

@sheabuttahwrites , @moebuttta , @darqchilddaydreamz

@alertyoulikeitsamber , @astoldbychae , @miyuhpapayuh

@sunshine-flower , @nightlywords7 , @4everbrookemarie

@delta7of96 , @novaniskye , @1andonlytashae

@shaolyninferno , @mcdesij , @willadean

@partygetsmewetter-x , @blackerthings , @peachbuttetfly

@theraieinfluence , @honestpreference , @queeniekiy

@tashawar , @skyesthebomb , @captainwithoutmakingitlove

#berberriescorner #nobody's gonna know #part one #daddy yahya #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #yahya abdul mateen ii x black!reader #yahya abdul mateen ii x reader #black writer #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #yahya fanfiction #yahya fic #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfic #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfiction #spotify

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Early Jim Kirk: Why So Serious?

To the people who said that Paul Wesley's Captain Kirk was "too serious" or that it "wasn't our Jim Kirk":

Let's have a kiki, shall we? :)

A lot of folks seem to forget who Jim used to be before meeting him in TOS.

In an interview, Paul Wesley discussed how different Jim's early character and life was from TOS Kirk. Wesley's study of Jim and his early characterisation was in fact based on TOS descriptions and relevant lore surrounding it. I was not at all phased by the Jim we saw, as early Jim is described as quite a departure from our flirty, confident TOS Jim. Wesley did his homework.

From the chat that Kirk has with Gary Mitchell in TOS (Where No Man Has Gone Before 01x03) and Bones in Shore Leave (01x15) re: Finnegan, we learned in Jim's younger years, Kirk didn't always have that swagger. In fact, Jim used to be a rather serious nerd.

Kirk in the academy was described as "a stack of books with legs", "positively grim", and "watch out for Lieutenant Kirk. In his class, you either think or sink".

He also adhered to Starfleet rules far more in his early years a la Boimler. For example, he reported an error that older officer and very good friend of his Benjamin Finney made on the USS Republic, leading to Finney's demotion and later the events of Court Martial (01x20). He reported one of his own besties to HQ and got him demoted. Quite a departure from how often Kirk violates Starfleet orders and directives for Spock on TOS. Again, he is not the same Jim. Character growth.

I think folks get so wrapped up in Spock being the thinking guy and Kirk being the action guy that they forget: You kind of have to be a brilliant genius and thinker to even get a starship command, let alone the flagship. Jim is not dumb and never was; he is exceptionally smart. Spock is just a freaking GIGA GENIUS and anyone standing next to that might look less bright in contrast. But make no mistake, Jim is also brilliant as a military man and diplomat.

Jim is often stereotyped as a swaggering meathead when he is actually an intelligent and capable diplomat even from his earliest years with Starfleet. As a cadet, he was decorated by Starfleet with the Palm Leaf for his peace mission work on Axanar (Court Martial 01x20). As a Captain, Jim helped to complete just as many successful federation member recruitments as he did take names and kick ass.

Jim loves chess. He loves his dad's old books and classic literature. He memorizes quotes from those texts and references them constantly in TOS. How many jocks do you know out here memorizing classic literature to reference even now in our time? One of Jim's most precious, prized possessions is an old text copy of "A Tale of Two Cities" he got as a gift for his birthday from Spock.

There are still those glimpses of old Jim planted throughout TOS and the movies.

As you examine him and his past, every description of him as a young man in the original series was that he was a nerd. Kirk, as a character, shows how much we change as people from high school/uni to adulthood.

The early Jim Kirk is not the Kirk we knew and loved, and he often comes as a surprise to folks accustomed to the Jim he later becomes. He grows into his own over time and finds himself, like many of us. But Wesley's portrayal seemed surprisingly apt to me, considering early descriptions of James T. Kirk's character.

TLDR: Jim Kirk was described in his early years as "serious", "positively grim", "a stack of books with legs", top of his class, and would report you to HQ for a crumb. This is not the Captain Kirk you knew who took command of the Enterprise in 2265. Jim Kirk used to be a serious, passionate Starfleet nerd.

All in all, I thought Paul Wesley's character study with all this considered was

Anyway, thanks for coming to my Ted X Talk about baby James Tiberius Kirk.

I'd love to hear from you folks, feel free to chip in, add to this or correct any errors. :) LLAP.🖖

EDIT: See Part 2 of this Jim Kirk SNW AU Analysis where I respond to an ask from @letteredlettered​; we get into the importance of the Triumvirate for Kirk Prime, as well as the relevance of why Jim Kirk being assigned the Farragut would be a poor choice of command commission for him. It further solidifies that this is not “our Kirk”, but an AU where we see what would come of our Kirk if he did not get the flagship commission or meet his boays to form the Trek Trinity. 

#thats my BOAY #my nerdy stoic boy who used to carry around textbooks in starfleets halls #and used to get the shit bullied out of him by Finnegan #scaring other cadets when they saw him in their classlist knowing he was going to be a pain in the ass #THATS OUR JIM #star trek #kirk #meta #1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt #tos #snw #star trek tos #star trek snw #star trek the original series #star trek strange new worlds #william shatner #paul wesley #jim kirk #james t kirk #captain kirk #cadet kirk #lieutenant kirk #I need to get my PHD in James T Kirk #oc #octrek #octrekmeta #st:tos #st: snw

[lildoodlenoodle]

Spider Freaks(affectionate) no.7

Spider Noir:

Unlike most spider people, Noir wasn’t bitten by a radioactive spider, but rather a mystical spider that came out of a statue of a spider god. After being bit he sees or hallucinates a spider god, Anansi(Akan), Ereshkigal(Mesopotamian), or Neith(Egyptian) all are possibilities(kinda but that’s another post). He wakes up covered in webs and has spider powers. It’s kinda similar to Araña/Aña(Anya) Corazón in some respects to their origins.

So right off the bat, his powers are mystical and not radioactive, which is evident in how his spider sense presents. He does have super strength, but it is a fair bit below the average spider person. We’ve seen him more or less control some spiders that we believe are the same type as the one that bit him. He has organic webbing that is black(it’s white in the movie and in some comics, but it stayed black in my heart). Because of the mystical aspect to his powers there is most likely more beneath the surface but we’re getting into headcanon territory.

WELCOME TO HEADCANON TERRITORY

Personally, I think all the spiders should be freaks. Make them more like spiders, make them less human, love that shit.

Spider noir powers are mystic(or multidimensional depending on how you wanna spin it)in origin. With most spiders powers it’s very concrete on how they got them and what the effects of said event were. Noir is a bit of a wild card in that respect, because we don’t even know if the spider god is real or not. Spider Noir is an unreliable narrator because of that.

Now the color webbing change and what that means:

No, I don’t like it but it furthers a theory I have. If the spider god is real then it is changing Peter throughout the series. Originally the webbing was black, after Peter meets the other spider people it turns white(this was probably an artistic choice due to new people being on the comic but still). This shows that he’s still changing AFTER the initial bite. We’ve seen something like this with other versions of Spider-Man, but they usually keep changing until they turn into an actual spider-human creature. The difference between Noir and those other examples is that a radioactive spider is not sentient. It is not choosing how much of a spider you are becoming. A spider god on the other hand very much could.

Now this, this could mean anything. What does a spider god consider to be important spidery changes? It’s difficult to tell for a bunch of reasons, especially for the ‘Why?’. But things I’d think could be possibilities include:

BLACK WEBBING

Claws/talons

Excessive hair

Exhibiting spidery behavior/instincts

Extra limbs

Fangs with venom(could liquify preys’ inside or just be death or paralyzing venom)

Mandibles

More eyes

Oral pedipalps

Spider limbs(think Kaine Parker)

Split lower jaw

Split upper jaw

Stinger(again Kaine Parker)

Talking to spiders

And more, probably. The ones in bold are my HCs but literally any of these could happen if he continues to ‘mutate’.

And, last one, brought to you courtesy of Burning Matches on AO3, the wind. Remember that scene from the first movie?

“Wherever I go the wind follows, and the wind smells like rain”*dramatic pose*

This could totally be put on the role of an exaggerated caricature of a noir film PI Noir is filling but let’s assume it’s not. Instead it’s a manifestation of the spider god, ‘following’ him. Because it’s not wind, it’s breathing. Which is insane and terrifying but it is one of my favorite headcanons that came out of that fic.

Feel free to add any more freaky biology or spidergod headcanons in the comments/tags! I love hearing this shit!!!

#spiderman noir #Spider-Man #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider god #spider noir #ITSV #ATSV #spider noir conspiracies