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simp4konig · 6 months

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Halloweens with König headcannons 🎃🍂

Gender-neutral Reader

*Slow burn

Word Count: ~3246

*FLUFFFFFFF😿😿💖✨🩷🩷💘

*Soft König☺️ (but also König is a smug bastard + asshole 🙄), Established relationship, Single mention of (ambiguous) age gap 😮‍💨

🧡Happy Halloween guys!!🧡 I don't celebrate Halloween myself , but im feeling 😈in the mood😈 so i hopw this can suffice for this ooky kooky spooky season 😰😰

Gos i wanna kms ive veen so uninspirws AAAHAHAHAHDHDHDDH this is literslly. Me rn--->💥💥💥💥💥🙂🔫 fuckijg FINALLT GOT sometjing OUT 🥳🥳 rest asusred iwont kms i need to finish my rqs first ☺️💖💖✨ i will feel SO euphoric when all the WIPS will become Completed Works !! 😍😍Im just gonna not post until i gdt smth donw bci hate giving false promises its the same as lyijg,🗿🗿

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance

...

König wasn't really one for Halloween.

Hadn't ever been, really, as he hadn't been raised to celebrate it.

In his household, he hadn't had much exposure to the Western "Hallow's Eve".

Besides, even if he was familiar with the tradition, his parents didn't bother celebrating those kinds of trivialities; after all, they certainly weren't going to bother wasting hard-earned money on trifles like pumpkins, just so they'd rot on the front porch, or candy that would rot your teeth, or on vulgar masks that depicted serial killers and monsters, too blasphemous to bear.

Plus, his neighbourhood didn't partake in "Trick-or-treat'ing" at all, and wouldn't leave any candy for any children — wouldn't do anything, really.

Nobody decorated their house with ghouls and ghosts, nobody dressed up as vampires or murderers, nobody jumped from behind corners to shout "Boo!".

None of that, as these ideas were childish. Infantile. Juvenile, even.

Thus, October 31st, König's Austrian villiage was quiet. So eerily quiet you'd had thought it was a ghost town had it not been for hundreds of cloaked figures in the cemetary — as, for König, "Halloween" tended to be a more sombre occasion in comparison to the American/English versions.

Instead of running around and knocking on people's doors with a broad, lopsided smile like other children ought, he was brought along to visit the graves of his family members: graves of his ancestors, which he'd be told about in detail, details of the person buried six feet under the stone slab; information and stories passed down from generations.

He would be taught to honour those deceased in his family and respect their memory, to remember those in the afterlife and what they sacrificed to get there.

Carrying a lamp, he'd light candles on those decrepit gravestones, text faded and illegible, while his parents left boquets of flowers, and pulled up their long black cloaks. Silently paying their respects.

While it wasn't necessarily a day of mourning — König never needed tissues to wipe any tears or blow his nose, and neither did anyone else in the family — it was far graver when compared to the Halloween holidays elsewhere.

However, König's memories of Halloween were few, far, and in-between.

Whenever he'd hear of other people's experiences, he was never nostalgic, as, the times that he did attend those familial ceremonies he was either too young to understand what was happening, or knew too little of the deceased[s] in question to be moved by the heavy atmosphere.

Not only that, but the time period was overwhelmingly solemn, with people flooding the burial grounds, some murmuring prayers, others with tears in their eyes.

There was no laughter, no treats, no fun costumes. Not even tricks. Just suffocating depression all around.

So, he didn't really associate the celebration with something to celebrate: what, celebrating the deaths of your family? That was quite morbid, when he thought about it, and he wasn't going to dedicate an entire month every year to remind himself of death with so many other operators around him falling on the battlefield, and having had faced the grim reaper himself several times already.

Hence, every 31st of October, he did nothing. Didn't acknowledge it at all.

But all that changed one fateful day in September. When he finally acknowledged it, all right (with a little of your help of course)!

You had asked König in passing if he had considered dressing up as something for Halloween. Maybe what he had considered doing on the evening. Or if he had plans to attend the autumn fair sometime soon.

His response? A blank look. Distant recognition.

For a quiet moment, you thought he was scowling at you, silently ridiculing your childish suggestion.

Then: "Halloween? Ah!" An amused chuckle, endeared by the child-like curiosity in your eyes, and a silent sigh of relief from you.

"I don't celebrate it, myself, meine liebe. But you're welcome to tell me what your costume is. I'd love to hear all about it, maus."

Mortified by this revelation, you couldn't let this go.

"What do you mean you "don't celebrate it"? You have got to be joking!"

Wide eyes, and jaw agape, you were in disbelief.

He simply shook his head with a strained smile. "I've just never seen it as something to celebrate, you know? No reason to."

Taking it upon yourself to prove him wrong, you wasted no time converting this skeptic into a believer. "Oh no, there is. I mean, it's Halloween! Everyone is crazy for it!"

Suddenly, your eyes lit up. A wave of adrenaline crashing into you, you tugged König's arm in direction of the couch.

"That's where we'll start! We're gonna watch Halloween! That'll surely get you in the spirit."

You winked at him, satisfied. Then, a sudden snort and a suppressed chortle, hand cupped over your mouth as you laughed at your pathetic attempt at a joke.

König cocked his head to the side in confusion, but let you hastily scramble for blankets, pillows, and to microwave bowls of popcorn, as he made himself comfortable on the couch cushions that sank in protest under his weight.

Initially, he was reluctant. Not necessarily looking forward to being forced to watch movies from the 80s–00s, over-the-top movies with subpar acting, to say that he was looking forward to it would have been a stretch.

However, seeing how passionate you were about the holiday, your interests, König didn't want your sweetness sour.

Yes, he was a little older than you, and perhaps didn't grasp what there was to fuss over, but he wasn't about to spoil your good mood, or dampen that excitement just because he didn't personally understand or was interested personally. He wanted to make an effort, for you.

Vowing to take part in your silly shenanigans, he swore to become involved in the festivities in order to see you smile. To keep seeing you smiling.

After that, every October evening you'd watch a movie — a (usually) corny horror classic, though spending most nights binging all the Screams, Halloweens, Chuckys, The Shinings, Saws, and Evil Deads, — huddled under moutains of blankets and stuffing your faces with toffee-flavoured popcorn.

Watching horror films with him was like being lectured on common-sense and taught self-defence lessons in real time, though. Not like you minded, but it really got rid of the edge and the tension in its entirety.

Instead of paying attention to the storyline, it's more likely König would catch on to the stupid decisions the characters and the shitty attempts to fight back, and he wouldn't be able to help commenting:

"Why did she leave the knife in him? In his abdomen, of all places? Now the murderer has a weapon! Should have taken it out and left him to bleed out. But noooo, nein, leave the knife there."

"Going into the forest on his own? In the night? With a killer on the loose? Mein Gott, he is such a dummkopf! Bring a friend, why don't you?"

"Liebling, why is there so much gore? Isn't this rated "15"? Wait, and why is there a lady with no shirt? This is supposed to be scary, ja? I'm very scared. Scared you'll slap me, actually, if I don't keep looking at my lap."

Angrily ranting at the television, you'd gently reassure him, that, "Sweetie, this is fiction. Sometimes, the scenes are unrealistic." "But it said "based on real events"! I swear, liebling, if I watch another ten minutes of this I'll have a headache. I can't comprehend the stupidness."

Tough crowd, that couldn't really immerse himself in the plot, but you took a note or two for the sorts of horror movies König wouldn't dislike.

Although he insulted all the characters for being stupid and ridiculed all the characters for being so brainless, he would begrudgingly admit that he enjoyed the movie, pointing out some of his favourite scenes.

Self-aware comedic slashers meant he could suspend disbelief and laugh out loud a little, while, movies with an omnipotent monster meant he couldn't criticise any inaccuracies. He didn't winge at those as much in comparison to major blockbuster films. In fact, he even preferred low budget movies, ones that were pure comedic relief and so self-aware that he wouldn't be able to help but laugh along, unable to hide his amusement.

Afterwards, at exactly midnight, you'd be huddled together in the dark under a thick blanket, gorging your mouth with sugary sweets and bite-size chocolates (also indulging in chocolates that were far from bite-size), giggling like lunatics (well, that was mostly you, but König joined in to keep you company).

Later, face serious, with a torch under your chin, you'd be whispering hushedly with a tone of foreboding, voice low, and words ominous:

"Drip. Drip. Dripping water. She had checked the bathroom taps, the kitchen taps, and they were twisted tightly closed. A leakage, perhaps? Or, perhaps, something else. As she roamed the corridor, the drip-drip-drip of liquid grew louder. And louder—"

"Ah, she should call her plumber, then, shouldn't she?" A sure shit-eating smirk that was obscured by his mask, but the way his eyes were squinting you knew he was taking the piss.

Of course, storytelling was not as haunting as you would have had liked it to be: König would interject, interrupting the aura of mystery and the medatitive atmosphere, with sarcastic remarks. It made the narrations really melodramatic in the end, and frustrated you to no end.

Still, you would groan, and, undaunted by his immature antics — as, mind you, this was a grown-ass man, a 6'10 wall of muscle messing around like this, teasing you not like the cocky Colonel he was but a snarky teenage boy — continue:

"—she walked on — despite having been rudely interrupted moments prior — and her heart sank. Blood. A puddle of it, on the floor, looking like gallons upon gallons of it had—"

"Maybe she was — ah, what's the word?" A thoughtful pause, hand where his chin was under the fabric "— menustrating? Was she wearing white pants, maybe?"

"—Menstruating, König — and stop ruining my horror narration! Now I've lost the plot! Okay — against her will, her eyes moved up the wall, following the dripping blood. To her horror, it was coming from the attic. Swallowing the heavy lump in her throat, she pulled open the hatch with jittering fingers, grip slackened by the warm sweat on her palms, knees threatening to buckle. And, when the trap door released, she gasped. Blood draining her face, she saw—"

An exaggerated gasp from König, as he clasped his hands over his mouth in mock shock. "She— she saw— your mother! Mein Gott, the horror!"

"Shut up, König!" An annoyed huff, and shuffling away. "Honestly, you're such a killjoy..."

König, scooping you into his arms when you turned around with crossed arms, pouting lips, and furrowed brows, nuzzed his masked face into your neck, chuckling heartily. You squirmed under his hold, fabric tickling your sensitive neck, and you'd desperately hold back your giggles, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Ja, ja, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe. Please keep going. What did she find in the attic?"

"No! You made me forget the grand reveal, now! I forgot what was up there, anyways..."

Walking around the house, you'd have the fright of your life when a huge shadow would jump in front of you at odd hours of the day.

"Boo!" König's voice resounded, loud and reverberating.

And you screamed, damn near verging on a heart attack.

"Shoving" him in frustration — you became actually even more frustrated when the man was like a solid wall and did not even budge a millimetre — König was quick to console you.

Doting over you, a wide smile on his face that the mask couldn't hide, he would be so overly lovey-dovey with you in an attempt to win back your affection that you'd roll yours eyes so far they'd end up in the back of your head.

"Meine liebe, I'm sorry for scaring you. I couldn't resist. You'll forgive me, won't you? You will, right? Please say yes."

You insisted you would, seemingly unassuming, then schemed to startle him at odd hours of the night as payback for losing your dignity in that moment.

At one point, you had even waited half an hour in the wardrobe while he was showering, only to jump out and see König in only a towel.

Yeah, you were the one that got jumpscared instead, face erupting in red despite you two being together for months at that point. You gave up trying to spook him then, bitterly accepting defeat.

Though, going along with your silly little activities, like going shopping for Halloween decorations, made König's heart swell seeing you bounce around excitedly and point out all the ornaments.

He didn't quite consent to you buying a life-size skeleton to call him Greg and place him in your shared bedroom. That was one step too far.

Still, seeing the wonder on your face, in awe of all the masks, costumes, decorations, and animated mannequins that'd cackle after triggering their mechanisms made his steel-blue eyes soften, melting into pure love and devotion for you.

So, to humour you one day, and to lift your mood after scaring you that one morning, König made two eye-holes in a white blanket, running after you around the house, almost tripping over it in his haste.

"Ooooo-ooo!" he moaned in over-dramatised agony, voice low yet playful. "This is not König, but his ghooost! Run, liebling, or you'll be neeext!"

Hearing him say that in his Austrian accent was so hilarious that were tears running down your cheeks from how hard you'd be laughing, and your sides splitting with the laughter, struggling scramble away, giggling.

Those moans of agony would become genuine cries in pain when he'd accidently hit his head on the doorframe when he forgot to duck in his excitement. The one time that bulky helmet of his could have come to use.

Despite all that, you'd be cornered against the wall, with nowhere to run, and König would pounce, tickling your sides viciously.

That broad smile on your face and the expression was worth fooling around and making a fool of himself.

He even didn't mind having you coo over his "injury" just like how he had when he was doting over you, because he loved you so much.

And, he loved you so much, that he even allowed you to "decorate" his gear. "To make it appropriate for the spooky season!" you had insisted, and he'd comply, not wanting to dull that sparkle in your eyes.

So contented with painting an intricate monster on his mask with fluorescent orange paint, you didn't notice König watching you hunched over the desk from behind, leaning against the doorframe with a loving smile on his face.

You hadn't expected that he'd wear that gear on base — veil, knee pads, helmet, and all — strutting his stuff. Just to remind everyone that their Colonel had a lovely spouse back home.

What you hadn't anticipated was how quickly König would start enjoying the season. Unexpectedly, he became obsessed with Halloween — his favourite tradition, second only to Christmas.

Carveling hollowed-out pumpkins of all shapes and sizes was one of his favourite past-times.

You'd think that with his size he'd struggle to cut through the orange crust without crushing it into pumpkin-coloured mush in his fists, but you'd be forgetting that he was skilled with a knife.

That said, König wasn't artistic. At all. The best he could produce would be a lopsided smiling caricature of... something. A nondescript creature, which you had complimented him on being so cute, only for him to angrily insist that it was an evil monster, and not cute at all.

Still, you would snap a picture before he could object, and give this pumpkin the spotlight on your front porch, soon many more following suit. Jack'o'lanterns illuminating your front step, glowing gold.

The sweet scent of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla extract filled your house, new freshly-baked treats from the oven laid out on the kitchen island daily.

Delicious aroma of sugary pastry, homemade banana bread with small hints of vanilla and sprinkled with icing sugar, candied oranges and sour, sherbet lemon cakes, crunchy cinnamon sugar pumpkin seeds ("Made from the pumpkin guts!" you exclaimed with a smile of pride, König's eyes smiling in delight of your enthusiasm).

Crumbly shortbread in the shape skulls and bats, round cookies with orange and black icing resembling pumpkins, sponge cakes that oozed thick raspberry and strawberry jam when you bit into them ("Because they were bleeding blood," you proclaimed, a devilish smirk on your face — or, something like it, as to König you were the cutest angel he'd had ever been blessed to be around), and so, so, so much more.

So much that your weekly trips to the supermarket became biweekly, until you two found yourselves stocking up on sugar, flour, eggs, and butter far too often to keep track of.

The house was so inviting, especially to little ones from the neighbourd, that their mouths were agape and their eyes sparkled as they passed your "haunted house", holding the hands of their parent(s).

Mentioned in an earlier post that König has a soft spot for children, he'd stock up on Halloween candy and treats, and lug bucketfuls of sweets on the doorstep for any little ones that'd knock on your door to cheerfully cry out in unison, full of glee: "Trick or treat!"

He'd welcome them with open arms, but, with most of them being so little, they'd point with bulging eyes the giant on the doorstep, to be harshly reprimanded by their mothers and fathers for their ignorance and rudeness.

Few would say much after seeing König the giant, and after daring to scoop a handful of confectionary, bowing their heads and avoiding his eyes would mumble a shaky "...Th-thank you, s-sir—!"

One of them, however — a little girl with rosy cheeks donning white stockings and a gold tinsel halo — beamed brightly, albeit shyly, at König, thanking him for the treat and his generosity. An innocent, toothy smile that made her squint from how high it reached her eyes, her front baby teeth missing.

When she had her back turned to you two, she ran as fast as her chubby little legs could take her, and exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! That giant is a big and friendly one! A big, friendly giant. Can we go again, please? Please?"

It was only when you nudged König with your elbow, grinning, when she had skipped happily away, that he had realised he had tears in his eyes.

Moreover, maybe the memories König had of Halloween weren't so cheerful, or ones even worth remembering in the first place; after all, his childhood wasn't so cheerful. Joyless, and with little life.

But, with the way that Halloween was shaping up to be, he was already looking forward to the special celebration.

So full of life the you two were, you would laugh at the irony — animated and living the dream, while celebrating the day of the day. It brought you two to more laughter.

And, with you, König could make new ones, ones that you'd look back on fondly years from now, and those grueling months on deployment.

...

Note: Went off experience here for the beginning, guys🫡🫡 for the mowt part i have never celebrated Halloween😰 only a couple times in Poland, and once in England when i drank tomato juice and prwtended it was blood and i was a vampire🤪,

, but I Googled "Halloween in Austria" /Germany" to clarify whether I wasn't just speaking outta my ass and König here would have celebrated it differently to how I had in Poland 💀cuz, yknow, im not egocentric ajd the world doesnt celebrate things the same way Poles do 😘...

...And, no, I wasn't !☺️✨✨(... sort of😅... As far as I know, Germany has adopted the West's Halloween, ans theres pumpkin carving competitiomsn stuff, while Austria does indeed celebrate it slightly differently) .

Because I have no fuckijg idea of König's nationaloty anymore as it KEEOS CHANGING, I got the vest of both worlds 🥲🥲

Also been really busy guys😰😰😰by busy i mean stressing out ovee not writing then proceeding to NOT write bc im stressed❤️❤️🥰 you know jow it is!! 🤗(🔫) its ok tjo❤️(no it isnt) ill work tjis oit somejow🥹(no i wont im gonna kms) 🥰🥰

Have a very spooky halloween guys<3Feel bad foe those that are buying candy bc not onky is it smallwe than last uear but its more expensive 💔😟

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deartrent · 3 months

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untold feelings — taa (pt. 1)

summary: you find yourself in a web of secrecy, long-suppressed desires and untold feelings within the buildings of liverpool fc, and it's bound to become a sticky situation

warnings: contains smut (18+, mdni)

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x fem!reader

notes: this is my first time writing smut and posting it, so i'm sorry if it's ass 😭 i'm thinking of adding more parts to this bc ive got some ideas cooking, but let me know what you guys think of this part first!

when you started your new job at liverpool fc as a player care officer, you had no idea what awaited you. all you knew was that you'd be in touch with the players most of the time; your main task literally being their first-line support for every- and anything they wanted and needed.

what you didn't expect though, was getting attached to one particular footballer. he was a man of little words, an introverted, closed off, at first seemingly "asshole"—though that presumption disappeared as you spoke to the guy more often. he was mysterious, a characteristic that ignited your interest in him in the first place. he wasn't your usual outgoing, witless and self-centered footballer, no, instead he kept to himself and only gave well-thought out answers. you tried your best to keep each interaction professional, especially when the news broke out of his new vice captain role, you vowed to not get involved with him, not wanting to be the reason that would put his new role in jeopardy.

you struggled though. the tension was there. you could feel it, he could feel it. if anyone else was in the room, they could feel it too. his eyes would bore into you as you typed away on your computer, logging the information he would give you, his eyes clearly attempting to get a message across. he had no shame in checking you out, scanning every part of your body, before his eyes would meet yours again, a mischievous smirk on his face as he sank further into his chair comfortably, his arms lazily draped along the armrests, his legs spread out.

after a few more appointments and conversations, you noticed him coming out of his shell more. there was no denying that the dynamic between you guys shifted, from a strictly professional one, to a more easygoing and flirty one. when you'd pass each other in the hallways, trent would flash you a cheeky smile, accompanied by a quick wink he made sure only you could see. if the coast was clear, he'd quickly poke your side as he passed, causing you to burst out in giggles. he'd always make sure to pass by your office as well, before heading to training, making sure to wish you a good morning or even bringing you a coffee if time allowed him to.

you enjoyed the secretive thing you had going on with trent, adding a tinge of excitement to your days.

the annual club dinner was the first time you and trent would see each other outside of a professional setting. his eyes never left you that night, observing your every move while simultaneously networking with the people around him, waiting for a moment to catch you alone.

"took you long enough," you joked as you watched him approach you, while you stood at the bar, waiting for your next drink. "were you waiting for me then?" his crossed arms rested on the bar, as he faced forward, allowing you to admire his side profile, "maybe," you shrugged, thanking the barman, before turning to trent once again. though he wasn't very tall, he still towered a little over you, that same cheeky smirk never leaving his face. the tension was unbearable and you knew he felt it too, the presence of his teammates and your colleagues being the only thing stopping you from sharing little touches.

"enjoying yourself?" you asked, looking away from his face as you started feeling nervous under his gaze, "yeah, very much," he let out a chuckle, knowing you were referring to him checking you out, "i'd enjoy it more if i could touch though," trent mumbled, his eyes scanning over the place, the same way yours did.

you were caught by surprise. he'd never verbally expressed what his eyes were insinuating. you never expected him to be so blunt, showing a different side to him than you were used to, "i'm afraid you're just gonna have to stick to looking for now," you tried to play off the feeling that was forming in the pit of your stomach. you wanted to feel his touch just as much as he wanted to touch you, your mind wandering off to the mental images of his body that you'd collected over the past few weeks while observing him in training from the window in your office. "watch out, you might start drooling in a minute," trent joked, amused with his own joke, while you hit his arm with the back of your hand.

you spent the rest of the night flirting back and forth with trent, either through eye contact or subtle touches as you'd pass each other. the night slowly came to an end and trent made sure to check up on you one more time.

"do you want me to drive you home?" trent asked, a hint of hope in his eyes that you'd say yes. you looked around for a second, "i already had a ride, but i don't mind going with you," although your facial expression would never give it away, you felt more nervous with each second passing, the realisation settling in that soon you'd be completely alone with trent.

while trent drove you home, the tension that had built up over the past few weeks only rose. one thing led to another and before you knew it, trent was reclined in the driver's seat, while you had both legs on each side of him. you'd been waiting for this exact moment, to feel his voluptuous and soft lips on yours, savouring every second you spent tasting his mouth. your lips wrapped around his bottom lip, tugging a little as trent's eyes shot closed, his large hands carefully placed on your hips, squeezing them ever so softly. beneath you, you could feel trent grow. seeing him melt under your touch drove you insane, the combination of his shut eyes, parted lips and hushed moans making you feel something you had never felt before.

trent's hands found their way around your back, unzipping the dress you picked with him in mind, as he slowly shed you of your clothing. his fingers eagerly unclasped your bra and as your eyes locked for a split second, you noticed just how hungry he was for you. your dress sat bunched up around your waist, your panties exposed, while your bra was lost somewhere in the car. trent's fingers played with your nipples, an unfamiliar sensation shooting through your body, only trent's touch having that effect on you, "trent," you tried to mumble, his lips never leaving yours, as though he was making up for the past few weeks of depriving him of your touch.

trent's hands roamed around your body, grabbing a handful of your ass, as you leaked more fluid all over your panties. you needed to feel him and you needed to make it clear to him, so as you finally let go of his lips, you cupped his face with your hands, holding him close as you whispered against his swollen lips, "i need you to fuck me like you've never fucked anyone before," those words leaving your mouth made trent go feral, unbuckling and pulling his pants down with one swift motion, the only barrier between your skin and his being your panties and his boxers. your hands wrapped around the elastic band, pulling the boxers down as his cock sprung free, resting against his stomach.

"fuck," you whispered against his lips, your pussy throbbing, yearning to be filled up. trent wasted no time, holding your panties to the side with one hand, while the other slid against your folds, spreading the moisture across his fingers before pumping his cock in his hands a few times. trent lined himself up with your entrance, the moment you both had silently been waiting for finally here. your hands rested on his broad shoulders as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. picking up your pace, trent was losing his mind and you could tell. his head fell back against the headrest, his hands firmly on your hips, guiding you through your movements. "fucking hell," he cursed, burying his cock deep inside, hitting a spot you didn't even know was possible, your moans getting louder.

you knew he was close from how sloppy each thrust had become, his breathing getting deeper and quicker. you lifted yourself off of him without a warning, his eyes lazily following your every move, high off of the ride you just gave him. you moved back to the passenger's seat, sitting on your knees as you wrapped both hands around his cock, leaving a trail of spit on his tip as you moved up and down as fast as you could, driving him to his climax. cum leaked all over your fingers, while trent cursed under his breath. your mind clouded by feelings of lust and desire, you brought your fingers up to your lips, licking them off as though you'd just finished a meal. trent chuckled as he crashed down from his high, his thumb caressing your cheek, "won't lie, i didn't expect all that from you, ms. wanna keep things professional," he joked, your cheeks heating up at his remark.

the night continued for a while, you'd moved to the backseat, lying on your back as trent supported himself on top of you. with your legs up, resting on trent's shoulders, he slammed into you, your cries being heard from outside the car. "fuc-" you choked on your moans, trent's name leaving your lips, warning him that you were close. trent watched your eyes roll back, his thumb circling between your folds, stimulating your clit, while his thrusts became deeper and slower, "fuck, fuck, fuck," your legs trembled, your body shuddering against trent as you held onto his muscular arms, as he unloaded another load inside of you.

the car felt hot by the end, your sweaty body on top of trent's as you laid your head on his shoulder, one of your hands resting on his exposed chest. the silence cleared your mind enough to think about what had just happened. you had no idea how you went from fighting to get a word out of trent to lying on top of him naked, vulnerable and fucked out in his car, parked in front of your place. if you had any energy left in you, you'd be stressing about how you were supposed to go back to work and pretend like nothing had happened—at least that's what you were planning on doing.

you knew you crossed a line you shouldn't have, you felt regret as you looked up at trent whose eyes were shut, his breathing steady and calm. you wondered what was going through his mind, if he was thinking the same as you, and if the weight of concealing the intimacy between you both laid as heavily on his heart as it did on yours.

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bratphilia · 6 months

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would it be a bother to ask for a fic w a tomboy reader and william afton? ive been on such a kick w william afton x reader fics here since i watched the movie and i love all of them but i am not feminine in the slightest so if you could write one id be so grateful!! and age gap and size difference too would also be sooo 👌👌👌. thank you so much!!!

note ✧.*‎ this was a lil hard for me to write considering im on the girly-er side so if anything looks weird in relation to the premise i apologize in advance!! also so sorry for getting this out a lil later than promised.

pairing ✧.*‎ steve raglan / william afton x reader

cw ✧.*‎ age difference (reader is 18-21, william is 45-50), degrading, spanking, approximately two slaps to the face, blow jobs, rubbing through jeans? idk what to call that, coming in pants (fem)

taglist ✧.*‎ @dilfity

synopsis ✧.*‎ while attending yet another meeting with your career counsellor, he has a few choice of words for you.

jeans (w. afton x reader)

you sit in mr. raglan's office, trying to sit straight up, legs crossed, not bouncing. he slightly shifts in his chair as he reads your file, moving his spinning chair from side to side, as he mentally scrutinizes your report. it's nerve-wracking. anyone in your shoes would feel this way, but the way he's intently reading over every little detail makes you squirm.

the worst part is, this isn't even the first time you've been in this exact position. it wouldn't be so bad if mr. raglan wasn't such a hard ass on you. always practically demanding answers of why you keep getting let go from the jobs he gives you, criticizing the tiniest details. nothing gets passed this guy, and yet here you are.

(there's something that almost riles you up about the way he talks to you, though. he has a habit of talking with those big hands of his in a way that makes your insides twist.)

"so you sit here in front of me..." he pipes up suddenly, looking at you then lifting a brow, "wearing jeans to a meeting, for christ sake, asking for yet another job, so what? you can get 'let go' again?"

"well, yes," you say, a little dumbstruck at his comment on your attire.

mr. raglan laughs shortly. "i got news for you, kid. people with your kinda track record don't exactly find jobs as easy as you think they do."

you hold back from rolling your eyes. your fists clench at your side angrily. you speak through gritted teeth, "look, i just need a job. i'll take anything, i'm desperate."

"hate to break it to you, but things just don't work like that—"

you've had it. "will you just stop being such an asshole and give me my damn options already?! i didn't come here to be lectured."

you're seething, breathless from your outburst. your heart is pounding but nothing can beat the jaw-slacked look on his face. there's a deafening silence that has you on the edge of your seat. then, shortly, "you come here for advice, and i'm giving it to you."

you want to say something again, you open your mouth to do so, but he raises a hand to silence you promptly. "you said you're desperate, hm? want my real, useful advice?"

you stare at him, not liking the direction of this conversation or his weirdly tone of dripping malice. "get the fuck on your knees then."

it's hot, you'll admit it. and he's the whole package too, total dad-i'd-like-to-fuck and all. this isn't your type of deal, but if he's gonna offer it to you, fuck it, you'll take it. you'll take everything this man gives you. "mr. raglan—" you say, purposefully furrowing your brows, trying to act scandalized for godsake—

"get your ass over here," he scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

you shut up, perking up at that, and make way to the open space between his legs. "look at you, you degenerate thing. on your knees for such a cause."

your head swims and the buzzing between your thighs becomes far too apparent to be ignored. but you're willing to wait for that relief. you part your lips expectantly, hoping he'd get the message to undo his pants and he just laughs at you. "filthy fucking thing wants my cock in her mouth so bad."

"uh-huh," you say, mouth still open.

he does away with all the restraints and guides his cock into your mouth. eagerly, you take him and lick up the underside of his dick, eliciting a groan from him. he makes a fist around your hair and guides your mouth up and down his cock, not caring about what you can and can't take and you fucking love it.

the noises of him hitting your gag reflex is music to the mouth of your ears. the way you push him out only for him to slide back in is truly a marvel. and the grunts, groaning, and degradations that come from him makes you want to take him even faster, more than what your body can handle, and he just laughs it off, commenting on much of an "eager, filthy thing" you are.

when you feel his helping hands thrust your mouth more erratically is when he decides to pull you off. he uses your hair to stand you up and practically shove you against the desk, back facing towards him. you yelp in pain, only adding to the ache in your stomach. he stands to his full height and you gulp. fuck, he's so much bigger than you, of course he can just throw you around like that. when you ask him if you should remove your clothes, he pauses for a moment, thinking. then, mischievously, "no, i want to make good use of those jeans."

curiously, you look back at him, but his fingers are pressing against your clothed pussy. he presses hard, letting the fabric grind on you. "oh, fuck," you moan.

"yeah? you like that?" he asks gruffly, rubbing your clit through your pants from side to side. usually this stimulation wouldn't be enough, but fuck you were so hot for him that you didn't care. "fuckin' dressed like a boy," he scoffs.

tears burn in your eyes, partly from his words, the other part from the stimulation. then he slaps you across the face. "i asked you a fucking question."

"yes!" you cry, moving a hand to rub at your stinging cheek. he grabs your hand and then slaps the other side of your face, just for fun. a few tears slip down your face at his physicality, but doesn't change that fact that you, "love it so much!"

"think you deserve to come?" he asks. "after that shit you pulled. you think you deserve it?"

you sniffle, knowing damn well what his answer's going to be. "well, i don't."

he removes his hands then promptly wipes them on his pants. you sob out, grasping for his hands but he pushes off of you. "you better come back with a better attitude if you expect anything more than what i gave you."

#asks #fnaf #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf smut #william afton #steve raglan #william afton x reader #william afton smut

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habeascorpseus · 2 years

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im curious, what do you consider ooc for grian? i agree w you completely but i would like to know 👁👁

ohoho *takes a BIG sip of my 5 hour energy and slams it on my bedside stool*

okay, so i HOPE this doesnt become a big old rant, because i really should sleep, but, the thing people misunderstand about him MOST, which therefore sort of branches into most other mischaracterizations i see with his character, is that he's not an asshole.

he's also not not an asshole.

here's what i mean: grian's moral compass is looser than a door without hinges, but his honor, and the honor of others, holds priority. in season 8 during the boatem prank war with big eyes, he aptly called his policy, "prank hard, clean up harder."

for the more innocuous offenses he commits, like pranks, and minor amounts murder, he will almost always feel bad and offer to help clean up if he feels like what he did is "too much." "too much" is dependent on circumstance, but most often it includes permanent loss of valubles- like armor, large amounts of resources, and hard to obtain items- which he will attempt to replace or make up for with helping the unfortunate recipient of his ill-fated prank with chores. "too much" also includes griefing and base editing whether it be accidental or on purpose- most notable examples being in season 7 when keralis discovered the "removing stuff from keralis' base" challenge, and rebuilding part of scar's base in season 8 after accidentally getting it blown up. if he feels like it's even partially his fault, he'll almost always offer to help fix the mess, even if he does complain about it the entire way though.

so he likes to fuck with people- he doesnt like permanent damage. that doesnt mean he doesnt occasionally want to cause permanent damage, such as in the life series, but he also often needs a reason to cause damage like losing lives or permadeath.

renchanting trap? scar wasn't doing his job properly as the only red life. tnt base trap? home no longer safe, revenge for pizza. killing jimmy and mumbo in last life? they provoked him and were reaping the consequences. killing bigb and ren in double life? they provoked him by (to his knowledge) being the cause of scar's death as a yellow life. no matter what death grian has personally called in the life series, either before or after it took place, you can find an instance of grian saying why he felt he needed to do it. and if the death is accidental, or accidental collateral damage, he tries to make up for it with his time and energy. (like with the physical objects.)

i see a lot of fics on ao3 with the tag "grian is an asshole in this one, sorry", and i dont normally read those, because those just leave a bad taste in my mouth- but i also see a lot of fics unintentionally write grian as more of a jerk because they forget he abides by honor. its not that grian isnt a murderer, its that he needs a reason to do it- or he'll excuse it after the fact with a reason. its not that grian isnt reckless with other people's lives, its that if he realizes the damage he causes is permanent he balks at doing it. its not that grian isnt an asshole, its that he likes to piss off people but wouldn't dream of purposefully damaging his friendships. grian, as a character, is defined by his willingness to push boundaries and his hesitance to cross the line. and far too often, people forget these two coexisting facts, and write grian as only being one or the other.

again, this is all mostly opinion and writing advice, and ive read fics where grian was ooc that i still enjoyed. but also sometimes you just look at a fandom and you're like "wow youre so valid but youre also wrong!" and occasionally i do be feeling that. in the end what matters is that the fic was fun to write, and the rant resulting from that is also fun to write. goodnight all,

#asked and answered #habeas speaks #spacemanxephos #not character tagging this #writing crit #i guess?#anyway

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runawaymarbles · 3 months

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some things that may or may not happen after the ending of Swan Lake

"Odette, now resigned to her existence, bids a sad, lingering farewell to Siegfried. The prince knows that she is gone forever. In utter grief, he is left alone." - Swan Lake (Kent Stowell version) summary

I. Siegfried is left alone. He will always be alone. He dies an old man at the edge of a lake.

II. Siegfried is alone. He will always be alone. He dies a young man in the middle of a lake.

III. Siegfried is alone. He is alone until the night after the party, when a swan appears at his bedroom window. He has never seen the glow of moonlight on her wings before, and the sight makes him cry.

When he opens the shutters, she settles next to him on his featherbed. She can’t cry anymore, but she bops him on the head a few times.

IV. Siegfried is alone, and he cries on the Jester’s lap. The Jester doesn’t think he’s paid enough for this. He certainly doesn’t have a joke prepared for when the crown prince accidentally declares his love to the wrong bird.

The Queen wonders if she can adopt the Jester and marry him off.

V. Siegfried is alone, officially, but he’s never truly alone because there is a swan that follows him everywhere. Anyone who wants to get any business done learns that they are not allowed to question this.

The swan is kind of an asshole, though: she’s especially prone to biting women who look at the prince just a little too long.

VI. Siegfried is alone, entirely, and intends to always be alone. “I will never love again,” he says, to anyone who will listen.

“That will certainly make a much better ballad,” his mother says, “the poets will be thrilled. But we’ve still got a kingdom to run and a dynasty to continue.”

VII. Siegfried is officially not alone, but he’s not happy about it. He has a pet swan who is also not happy about it. And a new wife, who is the least happy of them all.

“The swan stays in the marital chamber during sex,” the prince says.

His wife would find a way to kill him if she wasn’t afraid of said swan pecking her eyes out.

VIII. Siegfried is only sort of alone, and he hasn’t given up: he asks the Jester to promise to love his swan more than any other woman, on the grounds that the Jester has no sisters and has never loved a woman, nor does he intend to. “I don’t think he specified romantic love,” Siegfried says.

The Jester promises to be the bird’s bestie for life, and suddenly the swan is a woman, and there are screams from outside because the swans that have taken up residence along the roof are women now, too.

IX. Siegfried isn’t quite alone, but he isn’t happy, because the Jester promises, and nothing happens. The prince and the swan go off to cry again. The Jester asks the Queen for a raise.

X. Siegfried is alone. He changes his crest to one that shows a swan, wings spread above a blue square lake. He rules his kingdom, as fairly as one can ever be while wielding absolute authority, but spends the rest of his life watching the sky. He dies alone on a bed made of straw.

XI. Siegfried is alone. One day, a friend points out some swans to him, but he refuses to look at them.

“The form of a swan is a prison and a curse,” he says. “What if that’s not what they’re supposed to be?”

He bans all depictions of swans from the kingdom.

XII. Siegfried is alone, or he isn’t. Either way, he becomes a vegetarian.

XIII. Siegfried is alone. But he has loved, now, and he knows how to do it again. One day, he manages to move on.

He teaches his daughter everything he has been able to learn about preventing curses.

XIV. Siegfried is alone. He fucks the Jester.

XV. Siegfried is alone. A few years later, he learns that a minor noble some forty miles away has a beautiful new wife and two dozen new maidservants. Nobody is sure where they all came from.

But Siegfried knows, and he cries, and he is happy for her.

XVI. Siegfried isn’t alone. He gifts the swan that follows him around the fluffiest pillows. Demand she be paid the choicest foods. The jokes and rumors abound, but he ignores them.

Sometimes servants will hear him talking to the swan as though she’s a person. Sometimes they swear there’s a pattern to her honks, like she’s answering him.

XVII. Siegfried is alone, although he treats his pet swan like a queen. Sometimes, the servants will hear him talking to her.

“Can you still understand me?” he asks. “Odette. Please. Tap my hand if you understand me.”

The swan doesn’t move, until the prince offers more shrimp.

XVIII. Siegfried isn’t alone, until he is. Because swans mate for life, but that life is only a decade or so. When she dies, he calls for a week of mourning throughout the kingdom.

And when she dies, there’s a part of him—a part that he hates—that feels free.

XIX. Siegfried isn’t alone. Because Von Rothbart is defeated, somewhere. Maybe he cursed the wrong princess. Maybe he fell and broke his hip. All anyone know for sure is that one morning, there is a woman lying on the cushions reserved for the swan.

Salad and shellfish go out of favor, as the new queen refuses to eat them.

XX. Siegfried is alone, until a woman shows up at the castle. She’s wearing a white dress splattered with blood, and carrying what appears to be the severed wing of a giant owl. The prince mounts it on the wall above their thrones.

XXI. They live happily ever after.

XXII. Or, they don’t.

#swan lake #don't @ me i've been entertaining myself #op #i remain as always on my bullshit

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angelsunoo · 8 months

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Can we get riki x reader argument with happy ending pls we love angst guys 😍

HI ANONNNNNN im currently on a break (or we could say inactive lolol) rn, but i could push this in!!!! I love angst too btw MY BIAS YALLLLL

+ school just started again sooo ive been really busy

ARGUMENT / n.rk.

PAIRINGS bf!riki x reader

GENRE requested, angst, fluff YUHHH

ABOUT you had an argument with your boyfriend.

WARNING swearing, argument. Reader is a bit possessive. All of these are a work of fiction. Ignore the cringe ass usernames in Twitter 😰

It was 7:30 pm. You were up scrolling thru twitter, frowning at every post that bitch made. Why the hell is she acting like Riki is her boyfriend?

You had a scowl on your face. 'Why are u so cute'.

They went on an arcade together. You audibly scoff. He declined your offer to go out with him just to be with that?

Honestly. That's ridiculous. Maybe I should unfollow her. She doesn't deserve my follow.

While you were thinking about ways to murder her, you were unaware that someone just arrived home.

"Hey, Y/N. " you jolt, nearly throwing your phone in the air.

"What the fuck.. " you curse out, placing your hand on your heaving chest. "Don't you know how to knock?" Your eyes widen. You didn't expect to sound so harsh.

"Oh, sorry if I surprised you." He rubs the nape of his neck. Your frown deepens. That's all he has to say? Ugh.

"You went to the arcade with Lei?" You crossed your arms, still with frown displaying your face.

He doesn't answer for a while, he was pulling out the tickets he earned from playing. He got a cute plushie too.

"Uh . Yeah." He casually says, still not giving you eye contact.

"Riki, look at me."

He looks at you with a confused look. "Why do you sound mad? Did I do something wrong?"

"Yeah. You did." You roll your eyes. Wow, does he really not see what's going on?

"What did I do?" He approaches you. He places his hands on your arms. In attempt to soothe you.

You backed away, causing him to let go of you, while your arms remained crossed. "You chose her over me."

"What do you mean?" He asks, with confusion. "Are you jealous I went out with her?" He shoots you a playfull grin, that was quickly removed by your hard glare.

"I'm not joking, riki." You cross your arms. Can't he read the room. You were genuinely upset, and it made you more upset that he failed to notice it. He doesn't respond, and stashed his tickets in a drawer.

"Hello???" You call out, peeking over to what he's doing. "Stop ignoring me asshole."

"What? I'm the asshole?" He glared back at you. Your eyes widen.

"Oh! So you're the one who's mad now." Your tone was a bit higher and harsh. He turns to you, mimicking your actions from earlier, crossing his arms.

"Literally, give me a break Y/N." He says, "She's just a friend. Why do you worry so much?"

"Excuse me? I'm no way near 'worried'." You retort, making air quotation marks with your fingers. "I'm just upset you declined my offer to go out!"

"Oh, then fucking swallow your pride and accept the fact I said no to you! You can't stand it it when someone refuses you, can you? You're being all bitchy to me this late at night." He raises his voice, his tone now also becoming harsher. "She's just a friend. Please don't make me say it again.." He walks away angrily. Leaving you in shock. You didn't mean it that way.

You're just....

"Riki! Come back here!" You shout. He doesn't reply and slams the door behind him. You feel water start to form around your eyes. You never seen him this furious to you.

Now you worry how you're going to sleep at night without his warmth radiating beside you on your bed.

You could barely sleep at night. Why?

Well...

1. You couldn't sleep without him

2. You feel guilty for being a total bitch last night.

3. You are worried of where he might have gone. Did he go to his friend's place? Where did he sleep?

4. Your worried on how your going to talk to him the next day.

This is bad.

Maybe I should text him?

You open your phone, a bit hesitant to text him. You were really ashamed of what you did last night.

Maybe I should just talk to him in school.

You arrived in school, nervously tapping your foot on the smooth marble floor.

Your eyes searched for him.

"Oh riki..." you whisper, your tone being impatient.

After a few minutes of waiting, you finally spotted him, walking with his older friend, Jungwon.

You suddenly feel shy to approach him, the image of his angry face still stuck in your mind made you feel so guilty and ashamed.

You realized your mistake. You shouldn't have been too dramatic yesterday. Riki can hangout with anyone he likes.

But to admit, his words kind of hit you too.

You gave up the idea of talking to him. You feel to ashamed to face him.

Riki on the other hand, is dying to see you again. He misses your embrace and your kisses.

He felt really bad for what he said and he wanted to apologize. He saw you earlier, you looked somewhat nervous? He was going to approach you but you just suddenly left. He thought you didn't want to see his face.

"Yo Riki!" He turns to see who called him, it was jake.

"Oh hey hyung." He said. Jake raises his brow, a bit confused with riki's unusual attitude.

"Hey, what happened?" Jake asked, caressing riki's back slowly.

"I.. I had a fight with Y/N. I said really mean things to her and now I don't think she wants to talk to me," riki says so nonchalantly, but in actuality, he wanted to scream and cry right on the spot.

"Well, you should talk to her," jake says, and riki rolls his eyes.

"Are you serious? I literally told you she didn't wanna talk to me."

"Nuh-uh! You said 'I think'. So means you're not sure if she wants to talk to you or not."

"It's just that... It could've gone a different way. Maybe If i didn't scream at her then maybe she wouldn't be mad at me?" He says unsurely, not knowing what to do. He misses you so much and just wished he was hugging you right now.

It was lunchtime, you said to your friend that you can eat alone. You placed your food tray with a heavy heart.

Sigh.

"Gosh, this day can't get any worse." You mumble, feeling no apetite to eat your food.

While you were busy playing with your food, you didn't know that someone sat infront of you.

"Hey, y/n. " you removed your gaze from your food to look who just sat infront you.

"O-oh! Riki..what you doing here?" You say trying to act casual, but he was able to see right through you.

"Why? Can't I sit with my girlfriend?" He playfully smirks at you, once he saw your red and flustered face.

God, y/n. Why are blushing at that?

"You've been playing with your food," he points out, "why don't I feed you, hm?"

You knew by his tone that he was teasing, and decided to play along.

Finally, he's yours again— I mean-! He has always been.

The end

#enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen fluff #riki nishimura x reader #niki imagines #nishimura riki #i love angst too 😔

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