#shitequeue

[writeshite]

Asking Bucky if you can put your hands down his pants?

Bucky lifts his newspaper and looks down at you, you’re both laid down on the couch, you atop him swinging your legs idly with a grin. “Can I help you, doll?”

You tug at the waistband of his pants, “Can I put my hands down your pants, Buck?”

Bucky snorts, “Sure thing.” He goes back to his reading, you unbutton his pants, and pull down his underwear as much as you can before playing around with his dick.

#shitedrabbles #me personally I’m riding that dick like Miss Beyoncé said in Tyrant #imma be a tyrant hips are so hypnotic I’m such a tyrant. Beyoncé made me like country so gods help me #apologies to y’all who read my tags 💀✌🏾 #Bucky Barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #shitequeue

[cloningfailure]

“Is thi…this Rory?” 

█ ▌ @drcwningvoices​   █ ▌ Rory

#ich hoffe der starter ist ok #drcwningvoices #icon chat; #v;undecided #[ the usual sarah shitequeue ];

[writeshite]

....okay hear me out, Geralt helping Reader escape being a virgin sacrifice by ah....helping him get rid of the virgin part 👀

Previous

Geralt doesn’t like the sorcerer who greets the two of you. Yvad Vassird, he’d introduced himself. Yvad is a relatively young sorcerer, conniving, condescending, and an ass to boot - his dark hair is neatly combed back and cropped to the sides, and his robes are a rich blue with silver detailing. The so-called temple is no better - more so a fortress, with sigils carved into every brick of the building, with a rotating guard of sorcerers watching over anything and anyone that walks in and out. He doesn’t like how they stare at you with something sinister, shrugging off the looks of disgust they throw at him.

“...your bravery is admirable, dear boy, to surrender yourself to the forces of Order for the betterment of the Continent, truly a feat.” Geralt catches the tail end of Yvad’s speech and rolls his eyes. Thankfully, the man leaves once you’re escorted to your temporary resting chambers; the room has a bed and enough magic to keep it comfortable enough. Geralt paces and checks every corner for any sort of traps, and you have to call him away from the windows when he growls at something and draws the curtains closed.

“Darling, you can glare violently at the people outside,” you quip, patting the place on the bed beside you. He reluctantly comes to sit, leaning his head against yours, thumbs rubbing circles on your hands. He helps you change into the required clothing, kissing your skin whenever he can - it’s not even clothing really, but instead a loose tunic that lays over your body. When Yvad returns, he’s accompanied by masked sorcerers, and no amount of convincing can deter Geralt from seeing you to your final moments. 

You’re led to the central altar high in the building - a massive mirror hangs above the room, and multiple other mirrors are positioned around the ceiling - when Geralt crosses the threshold, he feels his bones twist, the magic in the air is conflicting, and he wonders how you, Yvad and the other sorcerers stand without trouble. The room appears clean, but Geralt can smell the old blood as strong as it would have been the day it was spilled. Yvad has Geralt remain on the outskirts of the altar as he leads you by the hand to the altar itself, stood under the large mirror. The masked sorcerers begin to chant, raising their hands; Chaos bleeds from their fingertips, striking the smaller mirrors, darting around before coming together to the large mirror and being reflected down to you. 

The floor closest to you lights up with sigils; you glance at Geralt before runes dot your skin, and you fall to your knees. Yvad claps his hands, and the smaller mirrors tilt, focusing more Chaos onto you; your own begins to bleed from you, growing more violent as it’s pulled and pushed. Geralt is acutely aware of your screaming but is stopped by Yvad’s pinning gaze, “Interfere, and you might kill him, witcher.”

“You’re already doing that,” he hisses, proven right when you cough up blood. 

“It’s necessary,” Yvad responds. The chanting becomes quieter as Yvad takes over, hands drawing in the air; the Chaos turns into what Geralt must assume is Order. The sigils glow brighter, and your body contorts, floating in the air before a violent burst of energy is released. “FUCK! Keep it controlled!” Yvad yells.

One masked sorcerer is knocked through the window by the next wave; his screams go uncared for by Yvad. The man rolls his eyes when the others flinch, “Stay focused!” When the next wave hits more of them, you crumple to the ground, struggling to lift your head as your screams become sobs. 

Burnt flesh wafts through the air, and Geralt’s resolve breaks - the spell is already unstable with one masked sorcerer gone, so Geralt gets rid of another - the sigils flicker, and the ground shakes. Yvad turns to him, fury in his face; Geralt dodges an attack and rushes to you - surmising the focus of the spell must be well protected; he’s proven right yet again when Yvad’s magic bounces back. He alternates between shaking you lightly and patting your cheek, “Come on. Come on. Come on.”

Your skin is warm, and when your eyes flutter open, Geralt feels as though he’s staring into a flame. Geralt…?” It takes you a moment before your mind catches on, and you spring to grab his shoulders, “....you stupid, stupid man!”

“You can insult me later; now, we need to get out of here.”

Yvad laughs, “You’re going nowhere, witcher.” Yvad’s voice is close to his ear; Geralt turns and is thrown far from you and through a window, hanging off the edge. Two things happen. One - Yvad takes two steps toward him, ready to have him fall to his death - two - the sorcerer flies past him as a loud ‘NO’ echoes, and the other windows shatter. Geralt crawls back in to find whoever’s left a pile of blood and bones.

You stand at the center, hand held out, and Geralt catches you before you can topple over again, “We need to get you out of here before the others find their way up here.” You nod, steeling yourself; a portal crackles to life, leading you to Roach as the other sorcerers' steps grow closer, you open another, and Geralt has Roach gallop through with you first before following. The portal led to a safehouse you’d cobbled from a dead peer - having invested what little free time you had to ensure it remained far from the Brotherhood - Geralt catches you before you slump off Roach, and you wake hours later to him sat by your bedside.

“Geralt? I’m…I’m alive?”

“Yeah, I promised, didn’t I? We’re far from everyone else,” he replies, hand coming to caress your face, “and, considering the whole sacrifice thing fell through—”

You drag him forward before he can finish, lips slotting against his to ensure this is real and that you hadn’t died and gone to some dream amid your death. Geralt holds you, pulling you closer; you laugh with relief when you part, leaning your head against his. “I’m alive,” you sigh. “Please, never ever, do what you did back there again.”

“Hmm, no promises.” He kisses you again, leaning further into your space and laying you back on the bed. Sliding between your legs as he pushes the tunic up, his fingers stretch your ass - the Brotherhood had believed, gods know why, that virgins made for better sacrifices - you’d resolved to kiss Geralt when you could, but now? Now, you strived to be fucked.

Geralt must deem you prepared as his cock replaces his fingers - it’s an adjustment, to say the least - you wince, and he halts his movements, “Is it too much?”

“Give me…just a minute,” you groan, clenching around him, “ok…you….move again,” you mumble. He wants to move slowly for your sake, but you protest, encouraging him to move faster; you sob enthusiastically when Geralt thrusts faster, the bed creaks, and you're certain it comes close to snapping. His teeth drag across your skin, and your own senses feel elevated, ears buzzing as Geralt slams into you with more and more force. When he cums, your eyes screw shut as something, or rather a lot of somethings, crash.

Geralt chuckles, "We can replace that later." You don't ask what it is, instead chuckling alongside him.

#it's not really virgin sacrifice techincally. it's more so sacrifice someone to this thing so we don't have to deal with it 💀 #shitedrabbles #geralt x male reader #geralt x reader #sacrifice order au #idk what else to call it #shitequeue #order 🪄 au

[writeshite]

Robb and Jon’s first “I love yous?”

Robb

Robb loved many things about you - your voice, your laughter, your eyes, your hands - he's certain no language could encapsulate the way he felt about you. Even now, watching you toss your head back and laugh, he felt his heart flutter; you snicker at Arya, turning to him with a smile when you catch him staring.

He leans against your shoulder, pressing a kiss, "Love you," he says, nuzzling his face into your neck.

Jon

The words come out of him in a moment of rest; the blizzard outside is a distant thing as Jon snuggles further into your arms. He's comfortable, heart full of adoration, and feeling more content than he's ever felt in his life. He's always whispered the words out of earshot or when you were asleep. "I love you," he mumbles; your arms squeeze him lightly, and you shuffle closer.

"I love you too, Jon," you respond, surprising him before dozing off.

#robb stark x male reader #jon snow x male reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow x reader #shitedrabbles #shitequeue

[writeshite]

"Relax." John turns to glare at you, but you hold his head firmly, keeping his gaze at the door; your other hand unbuckles his belt; he grips the armrest, shallow breaths leaving him as he did his best to follow the order. "There we go," your voice close to his ear; he feels the anger almost dissipate.

You take his cock out, and he doesn't buck against your hand as fervently as he'd once done, obediently waiting for you to make the first move. "You're learning quick, aren't you?" You move your hand to his mouth, silencing the pleading whimpers as you jerk him off. The armrest bends, and he shudders; he's not the Homelander when he's in your hands. He's your good boy - obedient, pliant - always chasing the high your praise brings him.

"What do you think people would say if they saw you like this?" You laugh lowly; John's head cranes back, "Imagine that." Not many people are up and about in the building this time of night, and it's not the first time you'd done this - last week, he'd spoken out of turn, you'd bent him over your lap, and spanked him till his ass was red. He mewls when he cums, back arching slightly before falling back against you, turning in your hold when you direct him to do so, and eagerly licks away the cum on your hands.

#shitedrabbles #homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #i'm supposed to be doing homework but this popped up in my head and if i have to live with it so do you.sometimes i have ideas and unfortun #sub!homelander #shitequeue

[writeshite]

can u write a homelander x male reader, I'd prefer fluff but I dont really care. (Noone writes x male readers😭)

John wakes up to a second heartbeat. His soulmate’s guide is six years overdue, and the cuddliest, friendliest dog he’s ever met, a dark brownish-red golden retriever - John calls him Scout. Dr. Vogelbaum is surprised - firstly, that the universe gave John a soulmate, and secondly, that a dog managed to trot its way into a secure location with little effort - it takes three dead scientists before they realize Scout is here to stay. Vought hates Scout until he can make a profit. Some mediocre photographer snaps a photo of John carrying Scout after he’d run through the mud; it’s on the internet in under an hour and the highest trending photo in the United States by dinnertime.

‘Everything you need to know about Homelander’s soulmate.’

‘13 facts about golden retriever guides, and what that can tell you about Homelander’s soulmate.’

‘How to get guides to choose you.’

The internet dissolves into a mess overnight, and the subject of John’s soulmate is trending globally; the week before Valentine’s Day is his soulmate tour, thousands of people come along, and Scout becomes the face of the ideal guide. John feels so many things - proud when the world praises his guide, confused as Scout’s friendly demeanor makes it harder to find his soulmate, and downright murderous when a fan tries to drag Scout to her and get him to like her - Sitwell tries something similar to the latter, reaching out once to pet the dog, before getting her arm bitten. John laughs, his tone cold as Scout darts behind his legs. When the Seven is formed, the others are a mixed bag; John doesn’t care enough to pay them attention, and they do the opposite, openly gawking at Scout, eyes widening further when Scout outwardly prefers his company; they want to ask, but clam up when he glares at them, hesitant to touch the guide. 

“Can’t you take me to my soulmate, already?” he asks Scout one morning; the dog tilts his head, tongue hanging out, and John swears he nods his head in response. Scout grabs his glove, and darts off with it, dodging John as he attempts to grab him; John is just about ready to throw caution to the wind when Scout stops; John doesn’t, flying directly into a tree. He’s not knocked out, but it takes a moment for the ringing to stop; when his eyes open again, you’re standing over him.

“Oh my god, Homelander, sir, are you alright?” 

John never quite understood how people could just know their soulmate by sight, even with their guides, he just never understood how people were 100% certain, but now looking at you, it’s like his whole mind just screams ‘yes.’ You hold out your hand for him to take, helping him stand, even with the gloves; your touch just feels right; Scout is the happiest John has ever seen him, tail wagging fast, “Oh, hello again,” you say to him, scratching Scout just behind the ears, you turn to John with a fond teasing smile, and he knows he’s already gone. “So, I guess this means the cat’s all you?” The cat is an orange ragdoll that, according to you, has scratched, bitten, hissed, and attacked anyone who came too close to you for her liking; John’s proud to hear that you named her Mochi, and he’s less proud of that, “Mean cats need cute names,” you simply state.

“What, you’re gonna give me a cute name too, then,” he snickers.

“I don’t see why not,” you eye him for a second, pursing your lips as you think of a name, “Snookums.” His face scrunches in horror, and you laugh, “Ok, ok, that was bad. Honeybun? Pudding? Pumpkin?” You rotate through so many names, each one as sappy as the last one, John’s expressions fueling your laughter further - there’s the distinct sound of a camera shutter, but John ignores it - placing a hand over your mouth as you dissolve into giddy hysterics. “Alright, point taken,” you say, and John is acutely aware of how close he’s pulled you to him. “How about your name then? I can’t just call you Homelander forever.”

“John,” he says.

“John. Johnathan,” You try the words on your tongue, “Jonnie, Johnny Boy.” You shake your head, “Yeah, I’ll stick with John.” You smile, giving John your name, “Nice to meet you, John.”

#homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #shitedrabbles #i feel your pain cause i'm 99.999% sure i've read through all the male reader fics for my fav characters #animal guide soulmate AUs are my favorite they're fucking hilarious. get it? scout. cause homelander's like a boy scout :D i'll see myself #shitequeue #i might return to this AU i think #this is me just rambling #soulmate au

[writeshite]

"You should see the other guy," Frank mumbled into your stomach, his hands kneaded your shirt.

"Can't; I'm looking at my guy," you reply, massaging the back of his scalp; he chuckles, drawing back to glance up at you; you smile at him, leaning down to peck his forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

He stands, leaning against you as you both shuffle to the bed; once close enough, he tugs you down with him, "night..." he mumbles, and he's out like a light.

#frank castle x male reader #frank castle x reader #shitedrabbles #am i supposed to be writing my reports? yes. am i craving frank like a fine meal? yes. don't judge me 💀 #can you tell i'm avoiding homework again :) #shitequeue

[writeshite]

Aaron Hotchner's husband coming to his work to give him his lunch he forgot and the team is shocked that he has a husband and one who looks like he was sculpted by the gods

Maybe also Aaron telling the team that's his and no one is allowed to flirt with him, reader then flirting with Aaron in front of the team just to tease him

Aaron 'I don't need rest I'm perfectly fine' Hotchner having a husband that's sculpted by the gods, and everyone in the team is trying to piece together a timeline because when? how? Said husband walks in with Hotch's lunch, and when Hotch speaks to him, it's like a cliche in a movie - his eyes soften, and he smiles; yes, Hotch smiles, but like this, smile is soft and small. Also, flustered Hotch? Love it, personally, I like the idea that his ears go red first and he has to cover them for a while after you've left.

#shiteanswers #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x male reader #my immediate thought was hotch with a firefighter boyfriend because that man's reckless so he probably set fire to his kitchen at least onc #but you know feel free to imagine whatever #shitequeue

[writeshite]

Maegor's nose trails along your skin, from your shoulder where his branding sits, to your neck, and then up to your ear, "You've been quiet, songbird." His grip is soft, and his tone cold. "Did Lord Lannister upset you further than you let on?"

You shake your head, turning to him with as best a reassuring smile as you can, "No, his words were simple jests." A lie, but you could not stomach another impromptu execution so soon; Lord Lannister had been personally insulted when Maegor had picked you - a bastard of the Vale - over his daughter, a proper lady.

"Hmm," he says nothing else, but his grip tightens, and his hand trails back to your cock, "very well, then, sing for me." The request is common; he enjoyed the sounds drawn from you, and the louder the sound, the better. He pulled you closer, his other hand holding you in place as he jerked you off. You grip his arm, head hung forward as you moaned - your orgasm paints his hand, and he licks it off, savoring every drop before turning your head to share the taste. "Good boy."

#maegor targaryen x reader #maegor targaryen x male reader #shitedrabbles #shitequeue #hear me out...i bet he would fuck good. he's crazy but i bet he would fuck good 💀 i do not have sane taste in men #i think he's a disgusting man with some warped version of romance and honestly i'm kinda into that #🐦‍⬛ arryn reader #maegor face claim: idk yet 💀

[writeshite]

“Do you trust me?” Spencer nods; you hug him close, his feet on yours, “Relax, I’ll lead.” 

He’s never been good at dancing, often likened to having the coordination of a newborn duck; he could barely walk without bumping into things. He’d never longed to dance until he watched you glide across the kitchen, his arms settle over your shoulders, your own coming around his waist, the music is soft, and you move slowly. 

“Told you, you could dance,” You move in a circular motion, and Spencer laughs as you purposefully butcher the lyrics, “What, you don’t like my spectacular singing?” you jest. His head bumps against yours, and as the laughter dies down, he’s left humming lowly alongside you.

#spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #smart cookie universe :) #shitedrabbles #shitequeue #if i remembered correctly spencer has shit coordination so i thought it'd be cute if this is how he and reader dance

[writeshite]

It was common secrecy that you and Daemon often spent nights tangled in each other's arms, a matter allowed only for the reason that it kept Daemon from enacting his roguish tendencies.

"No, no, no, I've already missed the morning—Daemon!" you shriek when his cold hands run along your skin. It's often a game between the two of you - Daemon, in search of warmth, would pounce and lay his freezing hands on your warm skin. "You would leave a prince of the realm on his deathbed?" he pouted, reaching out for you again.

You smacked his hands away, "When his hands are as cold as the North's ass? Yes, besides, I doubt Otto's going to be happy with how late I am."

"Your cousin…” he begins.

"Is an ass? I know Daemon; I grew up with him," you return to him briefly, placing a brief kiss on his lips; you dart away before he can trap you underneath him again.

#daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen x male reader #i'm going to continue the trend of having questionable taste in men because if anything gets to me it's matt smith as a targaryen 💀 #shitedrabbles #shitequeue #hightower reader #hotd imagine

[writeshite]

Robb on his way to meet suitors but not before his bodyguard fills him up with cum

"You're going to be late."

Robb doesn't seem to care, far more invested in being fucked over his desk than meeting potential suitors, not that you're rushing, either. Robb had loosened your tie, dragging you into the room; he used it now as a leash, his own head tilted back to meet your lips. He laughs triumphantly when you drive your cock into him, rolling his hips to meet your thrusts. He bows closer to the desk as your body covers his; Robb lies on his arms, biting his lip and poorly halting his moans.

His knees scrape the wood - you lift one of his legs, pushing it along the top; Robb's hands clench when you thrust deeper - he's sure your grip will leave more marks, not that he minds. Your breaths come out in broken huffs, his thighs quiver, his cock painting the floor with cum. You groan when the burst of heat rushes from you, but that's hardly a reason to stop, moving back to the tip before driving back into him, cum dripping down his legs.

"Happy?"

"Very," he responds. You riffle through the drawers before pulling out; Robb gasps when you shove a plug into him in place of your dick.

"Play nice with the suitors, and I'll let you ride me," you promise.

#shitedrabbles #robb stark x reader #robb stark x male reader #bodyguard reader #bodyguard au #shitequeue

[writeshite]

That Bucky ask where his bf woke him up with a blowjob but with Steve Rogers and possible Joel miller if you write for the last of us

Joel Miller

Joel was a little ticklish along his torso, your wandering hands trailed lightly, and he shuddered; the morning had been quiet until you took his dick in your mouth. At first, he huffs, then come the small sounds, whimpers accompanied by the small arch of his back, and finally, a cacophony of moans and whimpers. He grips the sheet, and you squeeze his balls, "Fuck..." he mumbles, "....I swear you need some kind of bell...." he quips, with a moan.

You hmm, amused, fondling his balls, you pull at them softly, you draw back, cock coming off with a pop, "Morning, darlin', thought I'd get breakfast early today," you joke.

"It's the crack of dawn," he remarks, expression a mix of irritation and amusement.

You lick his dick, eyes never leaving his, "Never too early."

Steve

You slung Steve's leg over your back, your lube-coated finger trailing the rim of his ass as you palmed his softened cock; he clenched when you pressed in, relaxing moments later. You fingered him slowly and licked away the precum and kiss the length of his cock; he makes a soft sound when you swallow his dick, brushing against his prostate simultaneously. Steve jerks, his leg falling away from your back; he jolts, dick going deeper before waking. You hold him close, nose against his lower stomach now; he's always surprised by your lack of a gag reflex.

"Good morning," he sighs, flopping back and leaving you to your cocksucking.

#joel miller x male reader #steve rogers x male!reader #shitedrabbles #shitequeue #dick is part of a balanced diet. i'll see myself out again 💀

[writeshite]

Could you do homelander/male reader with the scenario being like a meek intern or something he shoved into a closet and has his way with (but the interns totally into it)

John had grabbed you as you'd been on returning to your desk, the folders forgotten on the floor as he pulled you into a closet. No courtesy had been paid to your pants as they were shredded, your ass still raw from the way he'd fucked you over a desk, leg hiked up; you'd scrambled to get a grip of something when his cock had slipped inside you. His own grip was almost painful, a hand on your hip, another on your leg; they shook as he struggled to keep a lid on his strength - whatever had angered him, you both cursed and praised, the latter for the sex, the former for the fact that you might be out of commission again.

"...fucking cocksuckers..." he grumbled, hips snapping at a brutal pace, today was a stress relief kind of day then. "after everything I do to be a hero..." Your head fell onto his shoulder, legs barely able to wrap around him as you bounced on his dick, "you wouldn't do that to me, would you? Of course not."

"N —no, I wouldn't," you stammer.

"That's right, you love me, don't you?" You nod, "Come on honey, say it, you know I love it when you say it."

"I—I love you, John," you affirm, crying out his name when he cums; you remain held up, wincing when his cock falls out. The internship was meant to be temporary, something to go on your resume, but then you'd gone and caught his eye - a company bash, some liquid courage, and you'd woken up with hazy memories inside the bed and arms of the Homelander. John doesn't set you back down right away, breathing still quick and angry; you scratch the back of his neck, nuzzling your cheek against his. "I love you, John." You repeat the words until he's calmed, leaning into him long after he's set you back on your feet.

#homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #the boys imagine #shitedrabbles #shitequeue #idk why but the way his eyes go wide in that gif makes me laugh

[writeshite]

Robb sitting on your face getting eaten out when someone walks in wanting to get you guys to go to the conference room

Robb shuddered, biting his lip as he felt your tongue plunge deeper, he'd been worried you might break your neck, but you'd brushed him off and held him down by his thighs as you feasted on his arse. He rides when he remembers to, his mind preoccupied with getting lost in the sensation, so lost in the fact that Robb hardly notices the knock on the door and is surprised when a counselor walks in to demand your presence.

The counselor shrieks in surprise and covers his eyes, running out of the room in a frenzy, Robb would love to go help the counselor and perhaps console him, but he leaves that for whoever finds the man. It's not like he could move while you were busy enjoying yourself.

#shitedrabbles #arranged marriage au #reviving this tag for that one anon i know is staring into my soul 🤣 #robb stark x male reader #robb stark x reader #shitequeue #i'm preloading shit so you guys can be fed while homework takes me out

[writeshite]

Okay wait but Butcher fucking you slow and sweet though, murmuring soft praises and compliments while keeping his eyes on yours. Tells you how good you feel and look while you take him and covers your face in kisses. Sigh.

I need him to deep fuck me the same way you deep clean a room

#billy butcher x male reader #billy butcher x gender neutral reader #I need him to slow fuck me so soft and sweet like I’m picturing the feeling 😭 #shiteanswers #shitequeue