#metalocalypse fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedropascallme · 10 months

Note

Your Toki writing is fantastic! You should write him more! Maybe a smut one shot where he's married and desperate to get his wife pregnant? 👀

Honeymooning

Pairing: Toki Wartooth x f!Reader

Summary: "Toki wanted kids. He wanted them bad."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, slightly dom!Toki (you're welcome), creampie. If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Eeeee thank you for the love <3 I love writing Toki content. This prompt had me...excited. To say the least. I thought I'd be able to make this a drabble but it is, in fact, almost 2K words. I'm not sorry!!

You had always pictured a small, intimate wedding ceremony; delicate floral arrangements and lace, a pianist to play you down the aisle, a handful of your closest friends to help you prepare for the event of a lifetime. It was your dream to get married, to find the person you were destined to be with and have a lavish but appropriate ceremony to honor the love you had found in each other.

Any semblance of traditionalist thought you had put into your dream wedding went out the window when Toki proposed to you. Immediately, the two of you decided to go all out. While there were some things at the wedding recognizable from your childhood fantasies—your loved ones there to support you, your dress lacy and with a long train, the flowers just the color you had wanted—it was something entirely new, and much more fitting for who you were now as an adult. There had been something kind of funny about seeing the rest of the band act so dapper; they promised to behave for a whole 24 hours to ensure that the wedding went off without a hitch. Nathan had even worn his glasses in order to watch the vows closely from his spot at Toki’s side, and Skwisgaar didn’t throw in any veiled insults in his best man speech. And the whole time, Toki was squeezing your hand, eyes glued to you in admiration and disbelief that he finally had everything he wanted.

Almost everything.

Having had a more than tumultuous childhood and a lack of parental support, Toki had often considered what he would’ve done had he been in his parents’ shoes. The answer was never one laced with vengeance, rather he dreamt of caring for someone small and providing for them in the way he had always dreamed to be looked after. Toki wanted kids. He wanted them bad.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t known this; there had been conversations between the two of you for God only knows how long about what you wanted your future together to be like, and it always included starting a family. You knew financially you would be fine, but both of you felt it would be best to wait until you were married to really start trying.

And your honeymoon did take place after you were married.

Toki all but threw you onto the sprawling mattress. Maybe after having traveled the world so much with the entirety of Dethklok, Italy wasn’t so much a destination vacation as it was a week away in a familiar location, but you couldn’t deny the beauty that surrounded you—especially the beauty that was your now-husband as you watched him lift up and discard his shirt, tossing it into a corner and revealing his toned torso. You picked yourself up from off your back, crawling forward on the mattress to splay your hands over his stomach.

“This what you were thinking about during our vows?” You kissed down past his belly button and over his thin happy trail.

“Maybes,” he sighed, “but only halfs as much as I thoughts abouts how much I loves you.” You stopped just above the button of his pants to give him a kiss before leaning back to undo his fly. He pulled your hands away and grappled with you until you both fell back on the mattress in a heap of giggles.

“I’m trying to be sexy!”

“You can’ts gives a blow jobs now! It ams our first times as a married couples!” He buried his face into your neck, giving you small kisses that slowly turned more sensual as he began to suck on your skin. His hand made its way past the waistband of your panties—the rest of your clothes long forgotten somewhere near the front door—and he toyed with your clit. “Wants to loves you like this,” he whispered into your neck between opened mouth kisses, “wants to makes you feels good. Puts a baby in you.” You gasped at the combination of his words and the way he felt rubbing against your needy, swollen bud.

“Mhm,” you moaned, arching your back to allow two of his fingers to enter you smoothly, “want—wanna see how pretty I lo-ok, full of your cum?” Your question came out breathy, not at all in the teasing tone you had intended, but you couldn’t care less as Toki’s fingers eased in and out of you.

“Yeah,” Toki moaned, and you moved your hand to squeeze the hard length growing in his jeans. He tilted his head back at the sudden attention he was receiving before his mouth dropped open at your ministrations. “Wants you dripping.” You gave him another squeeze before you felt your legs shaking, thighs clenching together around his hand as his fingers ruthlessly played with the spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Mouth open, you intended to thank him, but there was no time before he attached his lips to yours and started peeling off the remainder of your clothing. He looked at you, curled up on the bed below him as he stripped off his pants, freeing his painfully hard cock and moving to cover you in kisses once more.

“How do you wants it?” He teased, his cock brushing over you. “How do you wants me to fills you up?”

“However you want.” You were giddy in anticipation, opening your legs to him before he had even decided how he wanted to fuck you. He took it as an opportunity, settling himself between your legs and letting his cock rest just above where you needed him. You felt his precum staining your stomach and it made you feel a lightheaded rush of excitement and arousal.

“My wife,” he took himself in his hand, rubbing his tip against your dripping hole, “so prettys.” He pushed into you all the way, the entirety of his cock stretching you out delightfully and making you scream out for him. “Feels good?” It wasn’t really a question, more of a mocking observation at the way your face contorted with each long, hard thrust.

You gave a string of gibberish in response, moaning each time you felt him slip out just enough to feel close to empty before he rammed back into you. “Fuck, Toki, fu-ck!” You were on the precipice of another orgasm, but he pulled out of you and turned you over, giving your ass a sharp smack as you moaned in disappointment and need.

“Be patients,” he spanked you again, sliding his cock over the curve of your ass, “you’ll gets whats you wants.”

“Need it, Toki!” You felt pathetic, lifting your ass up and wiggling in an attempt to sway him to fill you up again. “Need it…” It was a good thing Toki liked seeing you pathetic; your begging was cut short by his hands spreading you open for him as he pushed himself back into you, drawing a moan from you both before he began an unrelenting pace. He pulled your hair into a messy, makeshift ponytail, pulling you up closer to him and making your back curve to give him more leverage to fill your greedy cunt. “There!” You were close to tears, the overwhelming pleasure your husband provided coursing through your veins, “R-ight there, Toki! Please!” You collapsed onto your arms and face as the force of his thrusts became almost too much to handle; you felt your body move forward with every snap of his hips and you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“Rights there?” He teased, giving you a particularly deep thrust and keeping himself sheathed inside of you while you squirmed underneath him, helpless and loving it. You responded with a muffled “yes,” before he began to move again, slower now but just as deep. “Whats do you wants?” He was trying to ward off his own climax by slowing himself down and goading you into begging for more.

“Wan-want to…” You felt your eyes roll back when he began to rub your clit slowly in time with his thrusts.

“Whats?” He demanded.

“Wa-need you to-please Toki, I need it.” The tears you had been attempting to hold back now spilled over your eyes and onto the sheets below you.

“Speak clearlys.” If you hadn’t been so distracted, maybe you would’ve pointed out the irony of his sentence, but you were too far gone and did as instructed.

With all your focus, you mustered the proper words to get what you were so desperate for: “Please To-ki, want you to cum in me,” he pushed himself in further and you cried out, burying your face into the blanket you were clutching. “Please! Please, fill me up—fuck!—fill my pussy up so deep. Wanna have your—have your fucking kids.” You choked on your words as he sped up, throwing you back onto his cock as he brought you both toward your highs.

“Fills you up so goods.” You heard him groaning. He pulled you back by your hair and wrapped an arm around your waist. Now gripping you tightly against him, he used his other hand to grab your face, kissing you and whispering to you. “Gonna takes it? Gonna say thanks yous?”

“Yes! Please, yes!” You repeated the same two words over and over, and with a long, deep thrust into you, you felt yourself go limp in Toki’s arms. Had it not been for his grip around you, you surely would have fallen flat onto the mattress. Toki continued to fuck you through your orgasm as it tore through you; you felt heavy and light simultaneously, seeing black and white shine through both eyes while you chanted his name. At last, panting and sweaty, you uttered a weak, “please, Toki,” and he gave you what you both craved. You felt his hips stutter against your ass as he came, painting your insides with his cum. You felt warm and tired, but now with a regained pleasure coursing through you. Eyes closed, you felt yourself move and realized Toki had maneuvered you to lie down, still buried inside you. You could feel the stickiness leaking out around his cock and onto your thighs, and his chest heaving into your back.

Slowly, you eased him out of your now sensitive, sticky hole and turned to face him. He was smiling wide, tongue between his teeth. He kissed you passionately, deeply, before his hand wandered down to your pussy and began pushing what had leaked out of you back inside. You gasped, grabbing at his forearm while he playful nipped at you. Pulling his fingers out of you, he stuck them in his mouth to suck off any remnants and then curled up around you, kissing your shoulders, face, neck, and anywhere else he could reach in the position you found yourselves in.

“I loves you.” Toki whispered, kissing your forehead. “My wife, pretty ladys, I loves you. So perfects. Going to be a greats moms.” He kissed the top of your ear, then your cheek, and then finally he gave you a kiss on the lips.

“Do you think it worked?” You smiled, soaking in the adoration of his words.

“Maybes,” he pushed his hair out of his face, propping himself up next to you on his elbow, “but maybes we should try one more times. Or two.”

You pulled him back down again.

#toki wartooth #toki wartooth smut #toki metalocalypse #toki x reader #toki wartooth x reader #toki x you #toki wartooth x you #metalocalypse smut #metalocalypse fanfic #metalocalypse #hehe send me asks

206 notes · View notes

deadface-abominate · 8 months

Text

Dethklok+Charles Catching You Dancing

Suggested by @strangekindaerin

Warnings: Weird song choices

Nathan:

Nathan is hanging out with you in your apartment

He’s eating chips on the couch, waiting for you to finish up some chores so you can watch a movie with him

He can hear a small noise coming from your kitchen. It sounds a little like your voice. He goes to investigate

He’s thinking you might’ve gone insane and started talking to yourself, but he finds that you’re actually just singing quietly to yourself, headphones on and hips swaying as you wash a few dishes

The vision of your ass shaking side to side is pretty hot, but he’s really entranced by your voice

You don’t notice him approaching, the chorus of Lose Yourself To Dance by Daft Punk flowing into your ears and out of your mouth

He taps you on the shoulder, making you jump

“Dammit, Nathan! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“That song isn’t brutal,” he tells you, as if you asked

…

“Your voice is nice though…” he mumbles. You smile at him, your anger gone

“Thanks, Nate. Wait for me in the living room, I’ll be done in a minute,” he does as he’s told without a word, but he can’t get the image of you singing and dancing out of his head

When you finally join him, he’s completely lost interest in the idea of watching a movie

“Could you, um, keep singing that song?” He feels a little pathetic asking. The song wasn’t his favorite, but the sound of your voice was irresistible to him

Your eyes go a little wide. “Oh! Sure, but only if you dance with me,” you extend a hand out. He hesitates, but accepts it and stands up from the couch

The two of you sway and swing around your small living room, Nathan allowing you to expose him to this “girl music” just this once. He’ll be sure to put on something nice and heavy for the next song

Pickles

Pickles stumbles back to his room after another wild night of drinking

You had been out with him, but he lost you somewhere along the way. He gave up on looking for you after awhile and decided it was time for bed

He hears some loud pop song playing in his room through the closed door. He cringes at the sound of it

He finds you behind the door, busting it down to Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado and Timbaland. You don’t seem to notice him over the music

He flashes his crooked grin. The song is awful, but seeing you drop that ass down to the floor is an amazing sight

He can’t resist grabbing your shaking ass as you’re dipping to the floor

“Pickles! Babe!” You spin around and give him a big, sloppy kiss on the lips. “Where’d ya disappear to?”

He chuckles. “You’re the one that ran off. What’s with this terrible music?”

He knew it wasn’t a song you would listen to sober, so you must be even more hammered than he is

“Dunno, it just kinda felt right,” you do a somersault towards the door, landing in a half split since you can’t quite stretch all the way out. You can’t do tricks like this when your sober mind reminds you that you can hurt yourself

Pickles is so impressed (and turned on) that he’s no longer bothered by the trashy music in the background

“Hey, come over here,” he sits on the side of his bed, patting his lap, clearly requesting a lap dance

You comply, moonwalking over to him and straddling his lap, grinding and thrusting into him

When the song ends, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down as he falls back onto the bed

You rest your forehead on his for a minute, staring into each other’s eyes. He kisses you deeply and rolls you onto your back. He was planning to sleep off the booze, but he has a better idea now

Murderface

The boys are supposed to meet you at a strip club this afternoon. The meeting place was, amazingly, your idea

Murderface decided to head to the club a little early. He told the band he wasn’t going to waste time with them that could be spent watching hot sluts. Truth is, he just wants to get some time with you before the others show up and hog you

The sound of 3 by Britney Spears is blasting through the club and can be heard from the outside

To his delight, when he enters, he sees the hottest slut of all twirling around the pole; you

Turns out you got the time wrong and showed up an hour early, but you made friends with the dancers and they brought you on stage for a dance lesson. The club was empty at this hour anyway, so why not have some fun?

“You gotta squeeze your thighs together reeeal tight,” one of the dancers shows you how to hang from the pole without your hands. She climbs halfway up the pole and flexes her thigh muscles into the pole, leaning back

You try the same, but it only takes a few seconds for your muscles to give out. You fall to the stage, bruising your ass

“It’s okay, sweetie. No one gets it the first try,” another dancer helps you to your feet. That’s when you see Murderface, standing in the door looking dumbfounded

“Will! You’re early! I was just hanging out with the girls. Look what they taught me!” You snake up the pole and lock your ankles at the top, hanging upside down. You stay in place for about ten seconds before you slowly slide to the floor, hitting your head with an “oof”

“That’s fuckin’ awesome! He shouts, running up to the stage. It was only mildly awesome, but the fact that it was you doing it made it 100x more awesome

“Ready to try the next move again?” The first dancer asks

“This one’s for you, Will!” You dramatically point at him and jump up the pole, clenching your thighs with all your force and leaning back. Murderface starts throwing singles at you to help you get into the stripper mindset

It seems to help, because you make it an entire 15 seconds before dropping again

Murderface claps for you. “That was perfect, y/n! Keep practicing and you’ll be a pro stripper in no time,” you weren’t exactly planning on turning this into a regular thing, but he really wants to see you do this more often

“We were gonna give her some lap dance tips next,” a dancer says

“Right! I was gonna practice on an empty chair, but I guess I can use Will as my test dummy instead!” You grin at him and jump off the stage and onto his shoulders

His head goes foggy. There’s no way this is happening. He doesn’t get this lucky. He has to be dreaming. He’s so excited that he doesn’t hear the dancers in the back wondering if you really want to use him for your practice

Just as he’s about to park his ass on a chair, ready to live out his wildest fantasy, the rest of the band walks through the club door

His face drops. Why did these assholes have to walk in now?

“Y/n, what the hells is goings on?” Skwisgaar asks, seeing your legs locked around Murderface’s neck

“I was just practicing my dancing,” you release yourself from his body, going to greet the boys

“We’ll pick this back up later,” you whisper into his ear as you walk past him. His mood picks back up, his heart races, his palms sweat. He can’t wait to get you alone again

He might invest in getting a stripper pole put in his room

Skwisgaar

Skwisgaar is not having a good night

Once again, he got dragged to some shitty venue to deal with one of his band mate’s half baked schemes. He couldn’t even remember what the plan was or who came up with it. He just knew that this band was playing some garbage nu metal cover of Lady Gaga’s Poker Face, of all songs

The crowd was full of losers, the beer was watered down, the air was musty

Simply put, he was too good to be here

The worst part was that even though he had taken you along to keep him sane, he lost you in the crowd at some point. Now he had to wallow in misery alone

He’s about to step out for fresh air, when he finally spots your face again for the first time in almost an hour

You’re in the club’s lame excuse for a mosh pit, headbanging with some random dudes he had never seen before

He can’t believe he’s seeing you enjoying yourself here, dancing to this song. Have you officially lost your mind?

He pushes through the crowd, zeroing in on you to grab your wrist and drag you out

“Skwis, what the fuck—“ you groan as he pulls you out

“You was supposeds to be hangings out with me tonights! Why’d you runs off?” He pauses. “Hows can you be enjoyings this songs?”

“I’m not. It’s fucking awful. I can’t think of a song that needs a nu metal cover less than this one,” you glance at the stage for a second, still baffled by this no name band and their artistic choices. “But I’d rather have some fun than waste a night being miserable. And, you can’t hear the song as well when you’re in the middle of a crowd of loud assholes.”

“Stills, you shouldn’ts have lefts me,” he pouts. You hold back an eye roll. He could be so spoiled sometimes.

“Alright, sorry. But I knew you were just gonna be hanging out in a corner looking annoyed the whole time, so I tried to make the night enjoyable for myself,” you hold a hand out to him. “Come back to the pit with me, we can still salvage some of this night”

He frowns at your hand. “I don’t wants to,” he lies. He would love to dance with you, but he’s too stubborn to admit that this evening could possibly have any good come of it

“Yes you do,” you see right through him. This time, you’re the one dragging him by the wrist, back into the sea of sweaty drunks

He stays mostly still as you dance explicitly around his body, but as long as he can watch you dirty dance all night, he can enjoy the rest of his shitty evening

Toki

Toki bought some snacks he wanted to share with you, so he headed to your apartment

The two of you have the kind of relationship where he can show up unannounced, and he has his own key to your place

He knocks out of courtesy, but when you don’t answer, he lets himself in

“Y/n, I broughts snacks!” He calls to you as he enters your living room, but you still don’t answer. He hears music coming from your room

He opens the door to your room to find you dancing joyfully to Die Young by Ke$ha. The sound of your door opening startles you into stopping. You’re about to freak out at the intruder when you realize it’s just Toki

“Jesus, Toki! I thought someone broke in!” You scold him, but go to give him a hug. The comforting feeling of his surprisingly strong arms around you makes your heart rate go back down

“Y/n, this songs ams really bad. Buts you looks so cute whens you dance!” Toki releases you

“I know, I know. It isn’t the kind of thing you listen to, but I’ve been wanting to get better at dancing, and no offense, but Dethklok isn’t exactly danceable music,” Toki smiles at you

“You is learnings to dance?! I wants to learns with you!” This man is way too sweet. You love the idea of learning to dance alongside Toki

The two of you will meet up in your apartment twice a week to practice together. Neither of you are very good, but you both have so much fun that you don’t even care

You eventually sign up for dance classes together. The guys tease both of you over it. You brush off their comments

You even start noticing that there’s more technique to Toki’s headbanging at their concerts

He secretly starts fantasizing about the two of you getting married and blowing everyone away with how flawless your first dance is at your wedding

Charles

You’re in Charles’s room, reorganizing some stuff as you wait for him to be done with work for the day (he’s never really done, but he’s gotta sleep eventually)

He didn’t ask you to rearrange his room, but it was something you started doing to cure boredom

You turn on some music to make the tasks more fun, blasting Pallbearer’s cover of Love You to Death

At first, you just hum along with it, but you soon start swaying your hips and doing the occasional twirl as you move around the room

Charles managed to finish up a little earlier than usual. He rushed straight to his room, knowing you would be there and he could finally relax in your presence

He opens the door and finds you waltzing around. You don’t notice him, so he decides to watch for awhile

His expression lightens up, his shoulders relax, and he puts on a rare smile. No matter how stressful his day is, coming back to see you doing something stupid or weird would always lift the weight from his shoulders

He quietly closed the door behind him, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You jolt a little, but realize almost immediately it’s him

“You’re done early,” you say in a soft voice. You try to turn around to kiss him, but he keeps his grip on your waist

“Shh, keep dancing,” he whispers, leaving a kiss on the side of your neck. He lets you go so you can keep moving while he changes into more comfortable clothes

He just sits on his bed and watches you move your body to the soft song. He almost never gets to hear music this slow and soothing. The music and gentle movements of your body put him in a dreamlike state

You notice his eyelids getting heavy and turn off the music. You go to stand in front of him to rub his shoulders and give him a kiss on the top of his head

You force him to lie down and wiggle in next to him. You sling one arm over his chest and run your fingers through his hair with the other

He’s out much faster than he normally would be. You silently pledge to dance for him more often if it will help him decompress

Keep the requests coming!! I should I add I'll only write for Dethklok and Charles

#metalocalypse #dethklok #charles offdensen #charles foster offdensen #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #william murderface #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #metalocalypse x reader #dethklok x reader #charles offdensen x reader #x reader #fanfic #metalocalypse fanfic

163 notes · View notes

polyklok · 4 months

Text

Thank you @hopedope for sending me this lovely request in a very nice manner! I’m sorry it took me like damn near a year to get it done 😅

Doing Pickles’ Makeup

“C’mon, pleeeeaaassseeee?”

Pickles raised his eyes to you, slightly amused by your begging and more-than-slightly annoyed by your persistence. It was impressive, though. You had caught him at a particularly vulnerable moment of looking through naked lady fan mail and he was in a good mood. With your hard work and determination, you whittled down his several ‘No’s to a ‘Maybe’ and now, finally, a-

“I’ll think aboot it.”

“What’s there to think about? Just lemme take a crack at it!”

You had found an old magazine, of which Snakes ‘N Barrels headlined on. From that, a pretty close-up of Pickles’ glamor days, in which he was smothered in smokey purple eyeshadow and cherry red lipgloss. He doesn’t even know why that magazine was in Mordhaus in the first place. You somehow got it in your head that you needed to see an updated version of his dolled-up look.

He shuffled through a few more letters, no longer taking the time to admire the detailed shots of many-a titties. You leaned forward even more, keeping an eager stare. Damn your puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine. But I’m nat keepin’ it on all damn day.”

A mischievous grin spread across your face. He hated how adorable your evil ass could be.

At the very least, it was relaxing. He insisted the two of you had taken the activity to his room, he did not need anymore comments from his bandmates about how gay his makeup was. You straddled him on his bed, dipping the brush onto the makeup pallet by his head and spreading it across his closed eyelids. He shivered every time your warm breath puffed against his now-highlighted cheeks, fingers gripping harder onto your thighs he was allowed to hold as an added bonus for his troubles.

“M’gonna add shimmer,” You muttered, more so to yourself than him.

“No. Anything but the sparkles.” He said in a flat tone, mocking his earlier reluctance. Although he couldn’t see it, he swore he heard your lips spread into another smile. Maybe he’d let you do his makeup again if it made you this happy. Maybe.

His eyes felt heavier and heavier every time that brush glided against them again. He couldn’t tell if you were adding an ungodly amount of product or if he was just getting sleepy from it. His head sunk deeper into the mattress. He can’t remember why he was so reluctant in the first place. Having you on top of him while he got to practically nap rocked.

“Open your eyes,” You said, softly, ruining the comfortable moment.

“Don’t wanna,” He replied, just as soft.

“Pickles.” Oh shit. He knew not to defy that kind of tone. His eyes immediately shot open, wincing slightly at the sudden light flooding his vision. While you shuffled through your makeup bag, he admired the point of view he had, letting his hands linger up to your waist.

“Here.” You brought out a recognizable tube. Pickles grimaced. Even way back then, this was by far his least part of the process. You popped the mascara out and leaned in even closer than before, placing those little bristles right in his eye line.

“Blink.”

He did so and immediately regretted it. It was so weird to have his eyelashes, a teensy body part he hardly ever noticed on himself, to suddenly be covered in thick goop. But he didn’t fight it, blinking thrice for each eye and pushing down the strong urge to rub it all out. You blew gently on his new lashes, drying them into a thick, heavy fan.

“Yuck,” He mumbled, trying not to let you hear. If you did, you ignored it, simply assuring him that you were almost done.

“You want red, pink, or black lips?” You asked, shimmying down his legs so he could sit up properly.

“Dealer’s choice. I trust ya.”

You chose the black, which was really more of a super dark blue with a pearly sheen. He rested his jaw in your hand, holding his mouth limp to give you the perfect canvas to spread the lipstick on. Just as you were finishing his bottom lip, savoring the intimate moment-

“PICKLES! Toki and Skw-Woah. What the hell?” Nathan kicked open the door, apparently needing to tell Pickles some absolutely essential information, only to find you sitting in his lap and applying fucking makeup to him.

“Jesus fuckin- Nate’n, I told you to start fackin knockin, man!” Pickles turned his head so violently, the black smeared across his cheek in an ugly streak. You frowned, there goes your hard work.

“Pickles is getting his fucking makeup done!” Nathan yelled down the hall.

“Scheriously?!”

“Ha! Dat ams so gay!”

The rest of his bandmates could be heard not too far away. Pickles groaned, “Get the HELL outta here, dood!” He grabbed an empty beer bottle from his nightstand and flung it at the doorframe, shattering it.

“What’re you trying to relive the nineties or something? Gonna go back to your old band?” Nathan was clearly digging into his irritations, playfully enjoying how pissed off Pickles was getting.

“I think he looks hot,” You said matter-of-factly, hugging his head and pressing it against your chest. Pickles went slightly red with the affection, frantically waving his hands to get Nathan to fuck off. Nathan, luckily, understood the signal and promptly shut the door right before the rest of the band could get their mockery in.

“D’ose fuckin’ guys,” Pickles mumbled against you, one again relaxing into your touch, “You really like how I look like this?”

You pulled back, examining his face. His eyeshadow primarily black, blending into a very shimmery gold color. His highlighter was a similar gold and, despite the smudge, his lips looks good enough to kiss. So you did. “You always look good. Just especially now.”

“Don’t give yerself too much credit,” He teased with a smile, dragging you down with him in a tight squeeze. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he loved being fawned over whilst the two of you cuddled into oblivion.

#metalocalypse #dethklok #metalocalypse x reader #request filled #polyklok is real #pickles the drummer #metalocalypse pickles #nathan explosion #metalocalypse nathan #pickles the drummer x reader #pickles x reader #Metalocalypse fanfic

99 notes · View notes

bellamer · 2 months

Text

I love Metalocalypse fanfics. Too fucking bad 90 percent of them are god damn unreadable half the time. I know it’s fun to be accurate to the characters tone of speech but it’s fucking ridiculous. Last night I was reading a fanfic that focused heavily on Toki and Skwisgaar and the only character’s sentences I could read were Nathan’s, it makes no sense that I’m having actual strokes trying to read these fanfics. I watch the show on mute with subtitles most of the time and the subtitles don’t fucking kill my eyes but reading “Ohs tokis mes ams goingssksks toskk zhes woollmoorts toskk getsk fisheses fooots” gives me a god damn stroke I wish I was exaggerating

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf

67 notes · View notes

anidiotwithfanfiction · 8 months

Text

8,447 words in and I'm still not done with this one shot.

He gets me through it

#metalocalypse #skwistok #ao3 skwistok #dethklok #metalocalypse fanart #metalocalypse fanfic #skwisgaar #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki #toki wartooth #charles foster offdensen #it's saucy guys

60 notes · View notes

blackmetalstar · 4 months

Text

people who are still writing metalocalypse fanfiction i NEED a skwisgaar x reader where skwisgaar comforts reader from a panic attack i NEED IT

#ill pay #ive been having a panic attack three days in a row #dethklok #metalocalypse #mtl #metalocalypse fanfic #skwisgaar skwigelf

33 notes · View notes

viceroywrites · 1 month

Text

pickles x fem!reader

the two of you meet in rehab; him being a metal drummer punished for drinking while operating a hovercraft and you being a recovering alcoholic and drug addict who recently relapsed.

in the short weeks you spent with him, you came to two realizations; he was more addicting than any drug, and you never wanted to quit this drug.

ao3 version here - first two chapters are rewritten on tumblr and the rest will be the same moving forward.

content warning: this story involves discussion of alcoholism, drug usage, and drug addiction. reader is a recovering addict.

chapter one - admission

As you stepped inside the cold and sterile rehabilitation center, you shivered a bit. Despite your arms being covered by your thick hoodie, you still felt the icy chill run down your spine. It was a sensation that felt all too familiar unfortunately.

You didn't want to be here. It was a moment of weakness that put you back right where you had started years ago. The sterile white walls, judging looks given by the nurses and aides, the ashen faces of the recovering drug and alcohol addicts, seeking out anything to help them through their withdrawals. Everything about this place screamed death and despair, and you had escaped it alive only to be thrown right back in.

You had just started a new job, moving out of your parents’ home and finally gaining the independence you had worked so hard for. From the outside looking in, everything was looking up. However, unbeknownst to those who knew you, you were severely stressed from the workload placed on you, coming home to an empty apartment since your roommate worked nights and away from the support system you had created back at home outside of your family. Week after week, the stress began to pile up and one night, after several years of being sober and carrying that sobriety coin in your wallet, you had a couple glasses of wine, justifying in your head that you deserved it after getting through the week.

It was only to loosen up.

Once your roommate stepped into your apartment the next morning to find you, not at work, but knocked out with an empty bottle of wine by your side, it did not take her long to put two and two together. Out of concern, she encouraged you to call your support system and family. What harm would it be, right?

The reaction you got was a brutal blow to your ego. Your friends began to worry about you; their feelings being mixed as you had been on top of sobriety since your last program but ultimately agreeing to support you in getting back on track. Your parents didn't trust you the moment that you admitted your mistake, immediately demanding you come home and that you weren't ready to take on the world yet.

Deciding to 'get your life together', you agreed to take medical leave from work and go to rehab to keep your parents from dragging you back home kicking and screaming. Your friends breathed a sigh of relief but your parents didn't let their guard down. They forced you to stay for the whole program to make sure you were put on the right path again and everything was alright with you.

An elderly woman, a nurse in the facility, saw you standing there, immediately recognizing you, and shook you gently by the shoulder. Snapping out of your thoughts, you looked back and smiled a bit at the familiar looking woman.

"Hey there, Cecilia. You miss me?" You chuckle bitterly, stuffing your hands in your pockets. The nurse's eyes looked down and she sighed, "I thought you were clean, kid. You were one of the lucky ones to escape this hell hole and now, you're back." Her tired eyes looked back up at you before her lips spread into a grin, "Well, at least I got someone sane to keep me company for a while. Follow me, they’re have been some changes since you were last here but at least we got better mattresses and food this time around.”

With a nod, you headed down the hall where you surveyed each room. Inside, irritated doctors and psychiatrists argued with uncooperative and stubborn alcoholics and drug addicts. You rolled your eyes, "Typical..." you mutter under your breath.

You silently stopped at a room, and Cecilia opened it. Setting your duffel bag down, you turned to the elderly woman and smiled tiredly, "Thank-"

Your sentence was cut off by a doctor rushing over to Cecilia and talking to her, ignoring your presence, "Pickles is wreaking havoc... again."

Cecilia shook her head and looked over at you, "Sorry, kid... duty calls. We got a new troublemaker on our hands for a few weeks while you're here. Be back soon." She quickly left you by yourself to chase down the troublemaker.

You nodded and started unpacking your duffel bag. You remembered to pack some thick blankets and your own sheets as well as a few comforts from home - your favorite body wash, noise-canceling headphones, and a few snacks that you were surprised didn’t get confiscated considering they could have easily been edibles. As you were in the middle of unpacking, you hear a succession of loud knocks on your door. Assuming it’s Cecilia, you open the door with a hum, “You catch him, ‘Cilia?”

Instead, you were greeted by a handsome red-headed man.

You quickly surveyed his thin form, skullet red hair, pale skin and sharp green eyes. Unlike almost everyone here, including you, he looked alive. Rejuvenated. Like he was ready to get out of this hell hole now, kicking and screaming. It finally hits you who this was and before you can question what he’s doing here, his distinct North Midwestern accent cuts you off from your thoughts, "Hey.. um.. can I hide in here?"

You blinked and gave him a puzzled look, "Uhm.. may I ask why?"

Pickles had been running from a few of the guards who had caught him pissing in a garbage can since the main bathroom was occupied by one of the other patients having a panic attack. Trying to find a place to escape, he wasn’t expecting to open the door to someone close to his age, especially someone as attractive as you. His face broke out into a grin and he put his hand out, "You must be new here.. I'm Pickles.."

He expected a bigger reaction out of you considering his status but you simply blinked before chuckling and crossing your arms, "So you're the new troublemaker? The guy everyone's trying to hunt down?"

Pickles was surprised at how you addressed him but nodded with a smirk, "That would be me."

You smirked, "Pleasure to meet you, Pickles. I'm [Your Name].. and I'd be glad to let you hide out here till later but what's in it for me..?"

The drummer chuckled and his grin got wider, "I can't really give you anything while we're in this place. But I promise I'll make it up to you once we get out. Deal?" He put his hand out to seal your agreement.

You pondered for a minute, hearing the guards’ voice grow closer before shrugging, "Well, what have I got to lose? Deal."

Your hands met before clasping together and shaking.

'Well, at least there's someone sane and reliable in this hell hole..' he thought with a smirk as he stepped inside your room, the door shutting behind the two of you.

#metalocalypse #mtl #pickles #pickles the drummer #pickles metalocalypse #pickles x reader #metalocalypse fanfic #mtl fanfic #reader insert

20 notes · View notes

azurethebassist · 1 year

Note

(W) Wild card for all the boys

random headcanons for all the dethklok boys!

nsfw ahead!

Nathan: Nathan is a big guy, like just all around a big guy including the dick. chances are, you're at least somewhat smaller than him. he loves a good size difference! if you comment on how much bigger he is than you it turns him on so much. he loves seeing his big hands travel down your smaller body. he's probably low key pretty protective of his partner so i think he likes knowing that he's big and strong and can protect you (especially with how everyone that's in contact with Dethklok gets maimed or killed).

Skwisgaar: Skwis would teach you dirty phrases in Swedish. he won't tell you what they mean, but he'll make you say them. even if you are hesitant because they don't know what they mean, he'll say "goes on, says it, or i won'ts lets you cum". as you can't hold it anymore you'll have to blurt out something dirty and potentially embarrassing/degrading. but he'll reward you ;)

Toki: i see Toki being into costumes or cute clothing. on both of you. like he'd wear kitty ears and he'd want you to wear them too! "looks, y/n, am'nts this kitties ears so cutes??" he'd be so enthusiastic about it, it's very cute.

Pickles: sex with Pickles is silly and fun. he'll be cracking jokes the whole time and you'll both be smiling the whole time! Pickles first and foremost wants to have fun with his partner. you'll have fun on dates, have fun chilling at Mordhaus, have fun while eating breakfast... so of course he wants sexy times to be fun. like it's never anything weird or obnoxious, but he'll crack a joke or say something funny and if you laugh or smile he'll laugh along with you and give you a kiss (i love smiling into kisses ok)

Murderface: not kinky. at all. THE most vanilla bean you'll ever sleep with. he's kind of a passionate lover tbh, sex with him is probably very emotional. oh and he's a bottom. 100%. if you have a dick he wants it, if you don't he wants you to peg him.

see here for the prompts if you wanna send in one!

#metalocalypse #dethklok #william murderface #pickles the drummer #toki wartooth #nathan explosion #skwisgaar skwigelf #metalocalypse fanfic #metalocalypse headcanons

84 notes · View notes

fishklok · 1 year

Text

I'm not going to have time to polish these Encore screenshots, so here

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanart #preklok #magnus hammersmith #pickles the drummer #encore #metalocalypse fanfic #mtl #mtl fanart #my art

231 notes · View notes

thatwritingho · 7 months

Text

Kloktober Day 17

Give someone a brand new look

Neighboring Jars

Summary: Pickles the Drummer and Olive Axworthy 80s AU! A backstage encounter between the Snakes N' Barrels front man and an off duty paramedic. Nothing is more romantic than getting puked on — except, perhaps, a pun-based pickup line. Warnings: -Mild overdose ('mild' because Pickles' tolerance is what it is) -Vomit

Read on AO3 Here

He felt like a god.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration.

A king, perhaps? Yeah, that sounded better, more fitting. A self made king, but a little more. Like King Arthur, the last story he paid attention to in English class before skipping town. Destined for greatness, not born into it — just a lowly little squire boy until he plucked the sword from the stone, until he bought that Goldtop on the bus ride to L.A.

Now here he was, four years later and king of the fucking world with a mane of big, wild red hair for a crown, addressing his adoring populace who hung on his every word, who ripped each other apart to get closer to him.

Backstage, the drugs were exquisite, the liquor top shelf, the groupies like models in their skin-tight, barely-there clothes. And what kind of royalty didn't indulge in the riches of their kingdom? So he popped pills he didn't know the names of, drank anything handed to him, whispered utter filth into the ears of picture-perfect women before snorting lines off their picture-perfect tits, riding the high of the show as his bandmates did the same.

He went too hard, even for himself.

And then his back met the floor, the track lighting twinkling above his head nauseating as he convulsed, mouth foaming, his consciousness fuzzing.

And then a girl.

Cute, with a pretty round face and dark eyes and cascading curls dark and thick enough to block out the bright light as she hovered over him. Plush lips were forming words, though Pickles couldn't hear her over the static in his ears. He wished he could — her voice was probably way nicer than the fuzz. She rolled him to his side, slipped something soft under his head. Her small, warm hand gently took his gloved one as he spasmed. If his ears weren't ringing, he would have heard her ordering his shocked, intoxicated bandmates to get the medical staff, yelling at them for their second of frozen hesitance.

Vomit burned up his throat, and Pickles puked — all over her legs. Nice legs. Too bad he just ruined any chance of getting between them.

Damn.

Cute Girl had thick thighs he didn't see often on groupies, covered in black tights shot through with runs showing flashes of color inked beneath. Idly, he wondered if those were intentional, or if she had braved the crowd, gotten caught in the fray of rabid fans. The skirt of her black dress rode up high, providing him a good view as he lay there convulsing.

Was that a snake tattoo on her leg?

Double damn.

Cute Girl looked like she belonged at a show for The Cure, not Snakes N' Barrels. Black lace sleeves covered her arms, her dress slouching down tan shoulders to show off scrawling ink. A belt dripping in metal chains cinched her waist, her neck adorned the same with a black leather choker and layered silver necklaces. Large silver hoops dangled from her ears and on her wrists, with one thick silver o-ring hanging temptingly from her choker. Black liner ringed her eyes and flicked out in dramatic flares, the tips of her brows shaved to allow for pencil. Shadow darkened her lids, deep red stained her lips. Her hair was dark and wild and teased voluminous, falling in what he could tell were natural curls.

Lucky her, she doesn't have to perm.

He expected her to leave now that she was wearing his dinner of alcohol and pills, because why wouldn't she? But she didn't. Didn't even shift, didn’t even flinch, didn't even drop his hand. She just wiped his mouth with her lace sleeve. Her sleeve!

Holy shit.

Finally, his muscles began to calm, control returning to his body, the awful static in his ears ceased. Pickles closed his eyes as he limped to the floor, breathing labored, rasping out Inhaler. Pocket. which Cute Girl luckily acted quickly on. Pickles was even too exhausted to enjoy it as she pat down his tight jeans.

"Would sitting make it easier?"

He was right. Nice voice.

"Yeh."

Pickles expected to do half the work, but Cute Girl got behind him, hooking her arms under his and lifting him with shocking ease to a half sitting position in her lap. Wide green eyes blinked up at her from where his head rested on her chest, mind sluggish and cloudy as he regained his bearings.

Well, shit. No pillow would ever compare to the softness of this chick's tits under his head. He may as well hire her to sleep under him every night for the rest of his life, because after this, how could he ever truly rest on anything else again?

Fuck, she's even prettier up close, when his mind isn't half preoccupied with overdosing. Dark eyes so deep and rich they appeared black met his for but a brief moment, then she was shaking his inhaler and pressing it to his lips for him. Pickles breathed the cooling air as her gaze focused on his nose, lips moving just slightly.

Numbers? Oh, she's counting. Counting the seconds between his inhales? No.

Wait. Was she —

"Are yew countin' my freckles?"

A pretty flush heated her cheeks as she shot her eyes back to the inhaler in hand, pumping another breath into his mouth. And, damn, if that wasn't the cutest thing he'd seen all week. Hell, maybe all month. All year? Possibly, though Pickles' sense of time was fucked on the best of days, least of all now.

With a shaky exhale, he offered Cute Girl his best attempt at his signature crooked smile.

"What's yer name?"

Dark eyes met green, and she tucked back an errant curl that had fallen forward to tickle against his cheek.

"Olive."

"Yeh?" Pickles chuckled, running a weak hand over his face, brushing back hair stuck sweaty and sticky with Aquanet to his forehead, "Olive, huh? Well, damn, sahrry fer naht recognizing yah sooner."

She tilted her head in question, nose crunching, "Huh?"

Cute. Cute cute cute.

"Well yeh. We're neighbors, dood."

"We are?"

"A'course, babe. Heh," Pickles found it easier to grin this time, vaguely aware as Charles entered his field of vision with the on-site medical staff, "Yew know. On the shelves at da store. Our jars are right next ta each other."

"Our jars?"

"Yeh, babe! They keep us together," His grin grew as that cute, confused expression dropped into a flat deadpan with his next words, "Olives belahng with Pickles."

#finally starting the 80s AU!!#olive as an 80s goth woo #been talking (and thinking) about it forever #pickles the drummer #olive axworthy #momento mori #snakes n barrels #metalocalypse #metalocalypse oc #mtl oc #metalocalypse fanfic #mtl fanfic #kloktober #kloktober 2023 #kloktober2023

37 notes · View notes

mikhalson · 5 months

Text

A Christmas gift for @supersaturnnyoomkitty

An illustration for her awesome fic! Everyone read!

#metalocalypse #dethklok #metalocalypse fanart #mtl #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #merry christmas dude!!!#metalocalypse fanfic

146 notes · View notes

pedropascallme · 11 months

Note

Can you write a smut one shot of Toki from Metalocalypse having sex for the first time with a serious girlfriend he loves? Thanks!

AN: Sorry this took so long <3 This is my first time writing for Toki, and despite all the grammatical irregularities he uses I really enjoyed writing this!! I hope you like it, too.

“You ams’so pretty.” Toki mumbled, still half asleep, moving a stray piece of hair out of your face as you stirred. You blinked your eyes open and smiled at him, taking in how beautiful he looked with his hair messy from sleep, his baby blue eyes still hooded and semi-hidden by his eyelids.

“You’re delirious from lack of sleep,” you shifted yourself further towards him, laying your head on his chest and cupping his face in your free hand, “I’m hungover and I need to wash my face.” He smiled down at you and kissed the fingers that had strayed slightly from his cheek and grazed over his lips.

“Nos,” he put on his serious voice, “you ams pretty. And you should stays with Toki in beds all days.” He wrapped both arms around you and kissed the top of your head. You smiled wider into him, musing on his sweet words and broken English. You had learned—fairly quickly—that no matter how many times by how many people Toki was corrected, he would always use the verbiage and grammar he felt was correct. He was proud to have come this far, and you recognized how hard it was for him to have learned English in the first place after growing up so isolated, so you and everybody else he interacted with (save for Skwisgaar) let him speak how he wanted to. Still, you found it humorous, albeit endearing, how he made so many alterations to the language.

“I’ll stay in bed with you.” You sighed, closing your eyes and letting yourself sink against him and the mattress. “You’ll get bored pretty quickly, though.”

“We can finds somethings to dos.” Toki rubbed a thumb over the arm you had draped over his stomach.

“Mm? In bed?” You felt yourself falling back asleep.

“I…hmm…” Toki tried to find the proper phrasing for his intentions. “I wants to have sex withs you.” It came out far less smooth than he had hoped. Your eyes popped open, partially due to the unexpected forwardness of his words, and partially due to the combination of excitement and nerves that began to bubble up. All you could do was stare at him, a shocked grin on your face and your eyes wide. “You don’t wants—”

“No! I mean, yes! I—Toki. Of course I want to have sex with you.” You stumbled over your words.

“We don’t have tos. We can builds a new model airplanes. I just gots a Tu-144!” He sat up slightly, jostling you before you managed to pull him back down, hoisting yourself up to be face-to-face with him.

“Toki, I want to have sex with you.” You scanned his face, looking for signs of…anything. He stared at you before shooting you a shy smile.

“I don’t wants you to feels pressure-reds.”

“You’ve waited this long to ask,” you reassured him, “and I’ve waited this long to answer.”

“You ams not—you amsn’t a groupie, you know.”

“I tried to be.” You joked, thinking back on the day you met Toki, how he had led you to his room after a concert and all the two of you had done was talk all night, sitting criss-cross on the bed that you were now lying in a state of partial undress next to him in. Even then, some number of months ago, you knew there had been a reason that he had always been your favorite Dethklok member. “I know I’m not.”

He seemed to relax slightly at your acknowledgment of the fact that this situation was entirely different to that of a band member fraternizing with a groupie; this had never been a one-off thing. He’d been calling you his girlfriend since a week or two after that first night. And you loved it. You loved him.

He moved to kiss you, moving his body just enough to ensure he was completely underneath you, and you, in turn, straddled him and planted your legs on either side of his body, deepening the kiss. He pulled away suddenly to look up at you.

“I loves you.” He whispered, and you felt the atmosphere in the room change; this was serious. It was all real.

“I love you, too.” You whispered back, leaning down again to capture his lips once more. You both smiled into the kiss, utterly enraptured by one another. Toki was yours, and you were his, and you were so deeply grateful you had managed to get tickets to see the band play live all those months ago.

“What—how does you wants to—?” Toki spoke between heated kisses.

“My—on my back.” He flipped you over, long hair falling in his face when he looked down at you splayed out for him. You laughed, reaching up to move the long strands out of his way and tucking them behind his ear as he had done for you earlier that morning.

“Wow-ee…”

“Toki.”

“Mm?”

“Our clothes.”

“Oh!” He clumsily shed himself of his pajama bottoms while you stretched your torso to make it easier to remove your shirt and underwear. The clothes were strewn somewhere off in a corner of the bedroom, and you refocused your attention on Toki. You felt him, hard, rubbing against your core, and the vague friction it created already had you on edge; you had both waited so long to ensure your first time was comfortable, longed for and not rushed into. At this point you were about 85% sure you could cum from him touching any part of your naked body.

“Can—I wanna taste you.” You reached up for him but he gently captured your wrists in his hands.

“Nots now,” he placed your hands at your side, “Needs to—please, just needs to fucks you.” He was halfway to begging as his cock throbbed against you.

“Yes. Please, Toki, yes.” You gave him the go-ahead. He lined himself up with your admittedly dripping cunt, and you were almost embarrassed by how easily turned on you had become—though the rational part of your brain reminded you that it was a good thing. He pushed his hips into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to the feel and stretch of his cock inside of you. You let out small gasps as he sunk into you, finally bottoming out and staying still. He breathed heavily, and you could barely breathe at all; you felt so full—so complete with him buried inside of you like this. You knew that both of you were plenty experienced in this respect—sex was a natural part of life for him as a major celebrity, and you had experienced the occasional dry spell, but Toki was hardly your first. You also knew it was different now, with each other: this was genuine, full of love and mutual respect.

“Move, Toki. You can move, please.” You didn’t have to tell him twice; he slowly brought himself back, nearly pulling his cock out of you entirely, before pushing himself back in. You pulled him down, now chest-to-chest and moaning in each other’s ears. He sped up, relishing in the way your pussy swallowed him with each thrust of his hips. You could only make pathetic noises, mostly gibberish that sounded almost like his name before you managed to regain an inkling of composure to say it properly. You reached a hand down to rub against your clit, and Toki pushed it away to replace your fingers with his.

“So goods.” He moaned, screwing his eyes shut as he began to move at an even faster pace. You felt the knot in your stomach slowly tighten, before it completely came undone and you were cumming underneath him, all over his cock.

“I love you, Toki.” You were whisper-shouting, lost somewhere in the bliss he had created for you. “I love you so much.”

“I loves you so much,” he panted, thrusts getting sloppy, “wants to shows you all the times how much I loves you.”

“Show me.” You whispered, looking up at him beneath your lashes and bringing your hands to wrap around his neck. He pulled out, grinding himself against your lower stomach before finishing across your stomach and chest with a loud groan. He collapsed on top of you, and the two of you remained, sweaty and sticky and breathless in bed, for a while, whispering sweet nothings to each other and both tracing shapes on the other’s skin.

“I knows I said I wants tos stay in beds all days,” Toki spoke up, “but this ams sticky.” He motioned to his spend, which now coated both of you from the chest down.

“Shower with me.” You mumbled, twirling your fingers in his hair and massaging his scalp with your fingertips. He grinned, sitting up and arranging you in his arms bridal style to carry you to the bathroom.

“I loves you.” Picking you up, he whispered the words into the top of your head.

“I love you, too.”

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #metalocalypse smut #toki wartooth #toki metalocalypse #toki wartooth x reader #toki wartooth x you #toki x reader #toki x you #toki wartooth smut #hehe send me asks

203 notes · View notes