#my favorite lines: He was always the one with glass in his mouth cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world

[yourmomxx]

i wanted to request something sweet with my man aaron hotchner. like r and him work at the bau but their relationship is a secret until r kiss him on accident because shes excited about something!!! i hope this make sense idk!

thanks bestie have a great week!

i’m loving me some babygirl aaron hotchner honestly, i hope you like how this turned out!!

The office lights were blinding.

Like clinically cold balls of headlights that were penetrating through your skull, buzzing at an abnormally high frequence consistently.

You groaned inwardly and pressed the balls of your hands deep into your eyesockets, anything to just make that stupid headache go away so you could continue filing your reports that laid unedited on your desk.

You tapped the head of your pen vigorously against the desk top to jog a flow of words for you to write down.

With your hand supporting your head, you didn't notice a figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

"Hey." The tone of Aaron Hotchner's voice was soft and warm, but you still couldn't help but jump at the unexpected presence so near next to you.

You sighed when you noticed it was him, and leaned your head on your hand again. "Hey."

Aaron threw a look on you, then your files, and then your hunched figure again.

His gaze softened.

"Why don't you go home?" He suggested. You opened your mouth to openly protest, but Aaron cut you off before you even started talking.

"You need the rest," He made it clear to you, "and I'm sure Jack would love if you read him a story before bedtime."

You threw him a look. "You can't just lure me home using your son. That's not fair game."

The corners of Aaron's mouth twitched and he tilted his head.

You sighed. "Even if I wanted to go home," You said, "This paperwork won't finish itself."

Aaron moved closer to you and threw a glance over your shoulder, one hand supporting his weight on your desk as he leaned over your body.

"Let me do it," He offered.

You turned to look at him. "I can't ask that of you."

Aaron straightened up. "You're not asking, I'm offering."

Carefully, he pulled your pen out of your hand and put it back into its designated holder with multiple other ones that probably weren't even functioning anymore.

"Now," He drew out slowly, while his fingers were circling under the collar of your jacket hung over your chair, and he held it out to you, "Go home."

You threw him a doubting look. Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"I can make this an order if I want to."

You raised your hands, defeated.

"Alright, alright."

Slowly, you rolled your chair back and stood up, and accepted happily when Aaron helped you slip into the warm jacket. His hands kept steadying you at your shoulders. You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax against him for the blink of a second.

"Thank you," You muttered to him.

Aaron nodded. "Of course."

Your bag was already packed, it was a plus, as you lifted it off the floor.

"Maybe you can read Jack the book you brought him the last time," Aaron suggested. "He hasn't put it down since I showed him."

At his words, your face cracked into a huge, beaming smile.

"He actually liked it?" You hushed. Aaron nodded, smiling.

"That was my favorite book as a child, I'm so glad!"

You strode forward and pulled him closer to you in a short, but emotion-pouring kiss.

When you leaned away, Aaron smiled.

"Get home safe," He said. "Text me."

You dug out your headphones out of your bag and smiled at him.

"Always."

Then, not without throwing your lover a last kiss in your steps, you made your way out of the glass gates and left the building.

Only when the closed elevator doors put you out of his line of sight, Aaron allowed himself to finally pull out your chair and sit down.

He cracked open one of the brown files and started writing.

Only a few tables away, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were frozen in the same position they had been in just one minute ago.

Emily opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

Derek turned to Rossi. "Should we-?"

"No." The elder Agent cut him off.

Emily gestured wildly with her hands. "But they just-"

"I know, but - let's just not."

Spencer tilted his head.

Emily gave in.

They all just watched as their Unit Chief sat on your desk and filled out files that weren't his, as if it was the most normal thing on earth.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #requested #answered #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x profiler!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner fluff

[hellishjoel]

hi!! if you feel down to write this, could i request something along the lines of: bratty reader teases joel all day, even in front of his friends and in public, so when they both go their separate ways, he sends her a video of her fucking his fleshlight teasing her back for her attitude.

"See babydoll, this coulda been you if you weren't acting all bratty today; I could've been balls deep in you by now, but instead im balls deep in this toy"

SORRY, IT'S BEEN RATTLING AROUND IN MY BRAIN FOR DAYS NOW ♡♡

tease

1.5k // brat tamer!joel x f!reader

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

masterlist

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, brat!tamer Joel, smut via fucking a toy, extended teasing, dirty dirty dirty man talk, pet names, etc. very little editing, a little angst?

A/N: thank you for the request! short and sweet <3

Joel is infuriated. 

Your hand is under the table, raking up and down his thigh as if the motion was innocent. As if you didn’t know what you were doing. 

It had been like this all day, you had been toying with him. Cat and fuckin’ mouse. 

It started this morning. You insisted on coming over to Joel’s place early in the morning to make him a big breakfast, something he could definitely get behind. He came out of the shower, freshly trimmed and manscaped, all for you. 

What he didn’t expect when he walked downstairs and to the kitchen was the sight of you making breakfast in just a pair of black panties and his oversized dark gray Miller Contracting shirt. The sight alone made his cock swell for a treat of morning wood. 

You served his plate, gave that innocent little face, and proceeded to bend over the table to reach for the salt and pepper. 

Joel’s hand slowly moved up the back of your thigh, cupping the globe of your ass and giving a good squeeze to you. He was about to pull you in to sit on his lap, but was surprised to see you just go and sit in your chair across from him, digging into your own breakfast. 

Okay. 

The two of you had plans to meet up with Joel and Tommy’s good friend Dan and a few others to celebrate Dan’s birthday at a local pub. 

That’s where the two of you were now, with your hand raking up and down his leg and doing a few gentle squeezes that really made a shiver go up his spine. 

He could feel himself leaking in his boxers, hard under the outline you were absentmindedly drawing on his thigh. 

“Cut it out.” Joel told you sternly under his breath, his pint glass covering his mouth as he laid it against his bottom lip, trying to stare straight ahead at one of the large televisions they had in the bar. 

“Cut what out?” 

So many damn people were around, and it always felt like they were watching. 

Your fingernail added pressure to him, Joel’s knuckles going white around the pint glass he was certain he might shatter it. 

He felt you lean in, lips to his ear as everyone absentmindedly discussed the game on the tv. 

“What’s wrong, daddy?”

The condensation on Joel’s glass and your naughty comment had his pint slipping right through his fingers, his iron grip loosening for just a second before it clattered down onto the table and spilled everywhere. 

“Shit,” Joel quickly cursed, standing up from the table and reaching for the closest napkins he could find. 

Everyone looked at him and leisurely laughed, dismissing Joel’s little slip, wiping the streams of ale that reached their side of the table before returning to their mundane conversations. 

Joel’s eyes were staring daggers into you. He was pissed. 

Not only did he have beer dripping from the hem of his shirt, you were watching with a dopey smirk on your face as if you didn’t have anything to do with it. 

Joel’s cock has been aching in his jeans for hours now, the thought of bending you over and spanking the attitude out of you was really what he could go for right now. 

But you’d like that wouldn’t you? Getting Joel worked up all day, denying him access to his favorite little toy, not being able to pound his dick into your pussy like what he’s been craving for since he woke up this morning. 

He’d be a simmering tea kettle until he could get a good cum in, he couldn’t be here any longer. 

“I’m headin’ home to change.” Joel announced to Dan who shook his hand and thanked him for coming. 

You were in tow, slinging your bag around your shoulder as you followed Joel out with a pleased little grin. 

Joel’s face was fuming red like an angry cartoon character, one hand gripping his steering wheel while the other held his clutch.

Your hand landed on his arm, head coming to lay on his shoulder as you let out a soft sigh. 

“Someone’s angry.” Your teasing made his cock twitch. 

“Don’t like bein’ toyed with.” Joel returned flatly, feeling you run your fingers delicately up and down his bicep, causing goosebumps in your wake. 

“Who’s toying with you, daddy? When have I ever not delivered?” Your hand egregiously cupped his cock through his jeans, Joel swerving on the road at the unexpected grip you had on his pulsating balls. 

He could cum in seconds if you’d just let him. 

“Bein’ a real fuckin’ brat, you know that, baby?” Joel said through gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowed together as his heart raced, the pressure pumping down to his swollen dick. 

He harshly shoved your hand away, feeling your pout from the passenger seat. 

Joel pushed his tongue against the side of his cheek as he concentrated on driving, watching from his peripheral as you hiked your skirt up for his pleasure.

You slipped two fingers past the band of your panties, playing with your slick before circling around your clit and letting out a little moan of his name. 

Joel’s eyelashes fluttered, he dared himself not to look but he couldn’t help it. 

His lips parted at the sight, watching as your fingers moved under the veil of your panties. But he could hear it. The squelching of your wet juices combatting your anxious fingers.  

“You gonna let me take care of that for ya?” Joel asked, his final try at trying to get himself in your pants. 

He watched you throw up your eyes in debate, biting down on your lower lip before you shook your head and crossed your legs, removing your hand as you sucked your slick right off your fingers. Not even letting Joel have a taste. 

“Mmm… nope.” 

Joel cocked his head, his throbbing member nearly giving him a headache. 

You were surprised to see Joel had parked in front of your house, looking out the window then back to him. 

“What are you-”

“Go on.” 

You paused, your eyes narrowing on him before you took off your seatbelt. 

“Fine… you can come in, you know.” You looked over his face but he was just staring straight ahead. “Joel?”

“Gotta go home and change my shirt, take care of a few things. Go on, now.” 

You let out a short little huff, throwing his truck door opening and hopping down, quickly slamming it closed as the truck rocked. You eyed him as you crossed in front of it, hitting the steps to your front porch when he peeled off. 

What the hell. 

You teased Joel all the time! Maybe never for this long but you weren’t expecting him to leave you high and dry at the end of the night. You liked when he showed you who was boss, telling him that your pussy was all for him. 

You threw yourself back in bed, rolling your eyes at the whole situation. 

Your phone buzzed beside you after you got out of the shower, combing through your hair before sitting on your bed and opening the video message from Joel. 

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the sight. Your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched Joel thrust his cock into his fleshlight. 

An audible whimper left you, watching it in shock. 

His deep grunts echoed through your phone speakers, mouth going dry as you watched his fleshlight get filled up. You were envious of that fucking toy. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Joel’s moans were heaven to your ears, feeling a white hot spot start in your stomach as the video continued to play. 

His wrist snapped the toy faster down his cock, watching as it was lubed up with his spit and slick from his pre-cum and probably a bit of lube. 

Another whimper left your lips, begging that the toy could have been your aching pussy. 

“Ya see.. This could have been you, baby doll. Could have.. fuck.. could have been balls deep inside of you right now if you didn’t act like a damn brat all day. This could've been you.” 

His words made your bottom lip quiver, continuing to watch as his girthy length filled that toy to the brim. 

“God damn.. M’ fuckin close.”

His words made you shutter. You wanted to turn the video off. Hell, you wanted to chuck your phone out the window. But here you were, your eyes glued to it. You could see his dark happy trail, his salt and pepper hair that led to his fat fucking cock. 

You should have taken it at breakfast, you should have given it to him at the fucking bar! You’d do anything right now for him to fill you up like he was for his fleshlight. 

His phone got a little shaky as he came, Joel’s beautiful but erratic moans filling your ears as he flushed himself deep into his toy, filling it with his white hot cum. 

You could hear his breathing slow, watching as he slowly filmed himself taking the toy off his cock. He was covered in his own spill, and all you wanted to do was lick it clean off of him. 

“Goodnight baby girl, thanks for the good cum. Needed it all day.”

-----

@jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog

how to be added to the taglist

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #therapist joel #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #hellishjoel request

[forlix]

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬・l.f.

— "if you smell the same as someone, you'll have some peace of mind."

words・1k pairing・felix x gn!reader genres・hurt/comfort, established relationship warnings・detailed descriptions of an anxiety episode

a/n・ inspired by this thing lix said in an ep of skz code and my favorite line from natsume souseki’s kokoro. i hope this can provide u with some solace; love u

When you slip into your side of the bed, Felix feels a touch of cool air from the duvet being lifted off the mattress, but it’s quickly nullified by your body’s warm pressure against his as you tuck yourself into his side. He looks at you, shrouded in one of his old hoodies, glasses halfway down the bridge of your nose, one hand patting down the blanket around your legs and the other holding your phone to your face as you scan over a text.

This is far from the first time you’ve spent the night at his place, and even further from the first time his anxiety has made itself known beyond just its ceaseless simmering beneath his skin. Yet, it is the first time the two events have happened in simultaneity, and he finds himself wondering if he should tell you about the unmistakable tightness pulling at his ribs or the winding coil waiting to snap behind his eyes.

An answer follows as quickly as the question surfaces, though. You haven’t been dating long, but in only three days short of six months Felix has learned that he could cut his heart open over your hands and you’d still find a way not to spill a drop of his blood. That is the extent to which your love makes him feel safe, secure, sacred; the extent to which he believes in your ability to protect his soul, even when it isn’t something unseen and external bombarding his defenses but the most familiar enemy of all. One that bears his name and wears his face.

“Baby,” Felix says, and your fingers still over your screen. As does your heart, when you see his quivering lips and unblinking eyes.

Your phone falls upon the blanket with a soft thud.

Scrawled all over the lines of your face is the worry that Felix was so reluctant to cause, but the way your eyes soften as you look at him now is a perfect replica of how they did that time you took him stargazing on the roof of your apartment building, and breathing becomes marginally easier right away.

“What’s happening?” You whisper, your fingers swift but so careful as they find and slide over his wrist. “How can I help, angel?”

Shakily, blindly, Felix’s hand chases yours under the sheets, and your palms have hardly touched before you’re completing his unspoken sentence. You lace your fingers with his, their pads fluttering against the back of his hand, and this gives him the strength to utter, to plead—

“Hold me?”

Your free hand moves to graze the curve of his cheekbone, then to hold his nape. Then, with a flourish of movement that Felix hardly registers, you lift yourself to straddle his lap and tighten your arm where it curls around his neck, drawing him so gently into your embrace that he can all but evanesce against you.

Time ceases to exist. What proceeds is simply warmth: your hands and mouth pressing life back into his body with every sweep through his hair and “I’ve got you” upon his ear; his face gone in the cluster of fabric that marks the beginning of your hood, his hand pushing beneath the heavy cotton to seek out your bare back, his breaths timed to the quiet heartbeat he finds there.

The two of you spend what feels like multiple lifetimes locked together in this fashion.

It is somewhere towards the end of life number three that Felix realizes, dimly, arbitrarily, that you don’t smell like anything.

You’ve always come with something, be it the aromatic remnants of your childhood home that you’ve never quite outgrown, the fragrance you always dab behind your ears before leaving the house, or the telltale shampoo-conditioner combination you’ve been using for years. But right now, there is no discernible scent attached to your skin or your clothes; no olfactory indications of your person, your presence.

This surprises Felix so thoroughly that it seals his windpipe closed for a few seconds. It’s as if he’s lost something he never realized was precious until only after it’s slipped from his grasp, and the notion nearly sends him on a new spiral entirely, nearly undoes the progress that you’ve so tenderly helped him make since settling upon his thighs.

But then you shift, and, in a manner reminiscent of brushing thick, tangled vines out of the way to read an ancient stone plaque, Felix skims the tip of his nose over the hollow of your throat, and it is there that he finds the subtle scents of you that he thought he’d forfeited. And his next realization not only pries his lungs open again but brings a much-needed rush of oxygen back into them.

It is his bodywash that you used in the shower and his garment that you slipped into right after drying off. It is his blanket that you’re currently folded together in and his dormitory that you’ve carried a spare key to for weeks now. It's his hands and lips that dote constantly on your neck and waist and shoulders and anywhere they can reach like poppies vying for homes in cracked cement.

It’s not that you don’t smell like anything. It’s that you smell like him. 

Like us.

Felix knows well that anxiety is too fickle a creature to ever leave for good, but when this thought occurs to him he senses the foul apparition waver for once.

He starts to unravel himself from you after life number seven, and you expel your relief in the form of a sigh when you pull away and see the faint smile on your boyfriend's face; sense the stable in, out of the chest your hands rest upon.

The puff of air is quickly sucked back in, though, when Felix presses his lips to the underside of your jaw; to the point of your chin; to the apple of your cheek; and, at last, directly to yours. The kiss begins tense and unmoving, still riddled with the tonnage of his burden, but then his hand cradles your face with all the ardor of thank you, and his tears taste like the words I love you when they land on your tongue.

And it is perfect, as is he.

🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

#felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #k-labels #skz imagines #felix imagines #lee felix imagines #felix fluff #lee felix fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #felix scenarios #lee felix scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #*writing #*minific

[cash-111]

Random filth,

My hcs for the Slytherins

Pairings: female reader x Theodore/Mattheo/Draco/Enzo/Blaise/Tom

CW: explicit talk of sex and kinks under the cut.

A/N: it’s that time of the month. Don’t come for me.

You can tell I got tired near the end lol

Theodore is an absolute munch. I see him being obsessed with oral far more than any of the others. He’s had a rough day? Smothering your lips until you squirm, and everything else is drowned out by your cries of pleasure, will cheer him up. He’s had a particularly good day? Gotta celebrate with his favorite activity, which, coincidentally, includes his favorite person.

on this line of thinking, I could see him being into food stuff. Especially for Italian!theo, food is super important in Italian culture and I can see it being a big comfort for him, if not just something he finds pleasurable. He’ll feed you strawberries, fill you a nice glass of wine, and ‘accidentally’ spill some chocolate fondue over you… well, your clothes are ruined now, so you might as well take them off? Just lay down and let him take care of the sweet mess he made, just for him to make an even worse one out of you. <3

Hot take, but I think Mattheo is a switch. He’s got that sweet burnt out golden child flare: high expectations and in turn high standards for himself, all the while upholding a public reputation (good or bad). I think this flows into spikes of dominance and/or submissiveness; he can absolutely be arrogant and imposing, he’ll have you melting and behaving for him one way or another, but we all crave intimacy and the freedom to be vulnerable too, and he’s no different.

Those times he wishes you would take care of him too, let him be whiny and delicate, breakable. He’ll grip at your flesh like a thirsty man grapples at water, thrusting up with you lazily, whimpers against your soft skin about how “you feel so good… so good” spilling over and over from his mouth.

I also think he carries a lot of guilt with him, so on a particularly bad day he’ll let you completely ruin him, rub him so raw he cries for you to stop. His throat is soar, his chest puffing, and his lips a slick blood red from all the biting and drooling. The overstimulation is too much, but even though he could easily break free, he surrenders, hoping the hot of his skin will burn down all of his impurities.

I’m sorry to all my tall girlies, but I think he’d have a thing for size difference. If you’re shorter, it’s just so perfect to him: he loves to make fun of you, rile you up and savor the cute spectacle you make for him; he loves how he can encompass you when you sit on his lap, and has to fight the urge of eating you up every time you’re in public; and when you hug his waist, hold his bigger hand, or do anything stupidly cute, he just wants to scoop you up and whisk you away. And he probably will.

Draco is similar in the way he also has high expectations to deal with, but I think he’d see it more as a loss of control, with his father cutting out a perfect path for him, his wish is to take his fate into his own hands. This results in a more domineering nature during sexy times, but I don’t think he’d ever be outright disrespectful, even on the spur of the moment.

Unless you ask for it, he’s not the type to let all instinct take over and risk hurting you. I adamantly believe in mama’s boy Draco, he may not respect dreadful Potter, or be influenced by a strict purist household, but he surely respects women.

One word. Possessive. What’s his is his and once you commit there’s no going back. He’ll guard you like a dragon does to his stash, a hand unconsciously always searching for you: an arm draped over your shoulder, curled around your waist, fingers laced with yours, or a firm grip on your wrist when he’s more nervous.

For this reason I think he’s hand-dominant when it comes to pleasure. He wants to feel, feel, feel. When he’s caught up in the delicious delirium you cause him, his hands will be all over you: your breasts, neck, arms, thighs, waist, there isn’t a stone left unturned. He’ll definitely lose himself in the trance of all the sounds he can get from you while his fingers are buried deep into your warm, pulsing core. And don’t you dare look away from his eyes, Merlin knows what happens when you do.

Some would have you believe Enzo is the most innocent of the group, but I actually think that boy is a wolf in sheep’s clothing: with a fervid imagination and a lot of love to give, Enzo is helpless to his mind’s work when it comes to you.

He will try not to let it show, but images of you plague his mind and blur his vision, so much so that he tries to avoid you, but, instead of toning it down, your absence just makes his fantasies that much more desperate.

Only one freaky (and with a solid parental background) enough to consider sharing you. He’s obsessed with your pleasure, he wouldn’t mind sitting back for a bit and just observe you, he knows all the sweet sounds you make are for him.

Hot take, but kind of a sadist (in a sweet way). Mf loves to watch you unravel and ‘humiliate’ you about it; would coo and say filthy things in your ear, a hand to the neck or on your hair when you both get really into it. I see him having switch up moments sometimes where something more primal engulfs him, it’ll have him rail you to the end of tomorrow in a way so contrasting to the sweet person he is, you’d wonder if it’s even him, but you can’t really think during those times…

Blaise is a chill man, I don’t think he’d have many depravities, but he’ll try anything at least once, if it’s to your liking. And you can bet he’ll give it his all, he just wants to have a good time with you, so it’s only natural he’d give everything a fair shot. Very soft top of him.

Only more out there thing I really see him actively bringing into your relationship, would be semi-public escapades. I think he loves the thrill of having you two almost caught, and certainly enjoys making it into a game of who can get the other to break first, before going back to a more secluded, private, area.

He will have you squirming in your seat during meals, or in the back of the classroom, hand stuffed down your panties. You’re helpless to stop him, a hand gripped tightly around his wrist, while the other tries to muffle any whimpers he tears from you. He’ll smirk as he wets his lips, acting like you’re the only compromised one (while his cock strains painfully in his tight uniform trousers, tip leaking and crying for attention), and whisper into your ear, his other hand tracing featherlight on your other side. “Just admit you need me”. He’s an ass, but you do.

What I need you to understand for Tom, is that, in French spirit, his whole stigma is about being grand and iconic (💅) , he’s a psycho and you’re his devoted pet.

Will hold you a collaring ceremony. You’re his pretty little thing, in the literal sense. You’re his possession, and as such you will do anything for him. If you’ll be good, he’ll make sure to take care of you. Since you’re an extension of him, he can’t have you being damaged or neglected (in the face of the public. That’s very important). You need to shine for him, like a pretty jewel: make him proud. Unless you want to be bad, reject him, demean him. Then he’ll have no mercy, using you as an outlet, bullying you with his cock, until you forget where you are, and throwing venomous words at you, until you remember your own place. (… and who knows, maybe you planned for it)

Isn’t affected much by physicality, but is absolutely obsessed with lingerie. He finds it classy, intriguing. He’ll bring you endless racks of it: you’re expected to try each and every one, and always wear it when meeting him. Also perfumes, he’s very opinionated and has a sensitive nose, which he’ll push deep into your neck when he unravels upon you, groaning against your marked skin.

#fanfiction #x reader #fanfic #slytherin x reader #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #draco malfoy x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #blaise zabini x reader #tom riddle x reader #theodore nott headcanons #mattheo riddle headcanon #draco malfoy headcanon #Enzo Berkshire headcanon #blaise zabini headcanons #tom riddle headcanon #headcanon #my hcs #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys

[catsrulesworld]

Headcanons for Miles(s)

An: I kinda went overboard but that's okay 🤗 I appreciate all the love and kind words on the posts so again can never thank you enough but pls send requests I need to get more ideas anyway enjoys these head canons about these silly gooses

Miles 1610

He sometimes shocks himself when he sneezes

His dad cuts his hair

Hobie pierced his ears

He was a cat person before the whole cat thing during the chase

His love language is physical touch

He's super clingy

Makes tons of drawings of you from every angle in different outfits and everything

He definitely forget he was Spiderman one time and came to your house through your window in his outfit it was a little like this

You:“OH MY GOD ITS SPIDERMAN”

Miles looks around: “NO WAY WHERE”

He doesn't cover his mouth when yawning

Always texts you even if he's swinging around the city

Mi corazón ❤️: Miles are you on the way I'm worried

Spidey boy: I'm almostytgere

Spidey boy: Fivemotemuns

Spidey boy: Mins*

Mi corazón ❤️: Okay love you

Spidey boy: Live you more 🥰

Hobie has tried to teach him a little guitar but Miles gets mad so he doesn't do it

He makes playlists of your favorite songs and plays if he misses you

He used Photomath or Brainly even though he doesn't need it

Science and math is his strong suit but English and social studies aren't

He's good at sports he just doesn't like them

His favorite food his mom makes is Arroz con gandules, Asopao de pollo, and Arroz con dulce

During family BBQs his favorite dance is the cupid shuffle

Only knows how to do a few dances but when he does he's incredible at it

His favorite season is summer because everyone is outside having fun

If you play sports/instruments he's at your concerts or games and if he can't go he drowns you in apologies and kisses

He's overthinker so if you don't respond in the next ten minutes he starts to think the worst

Spidey boy: Hi my love! Do you want to come over soon?

Spidey boy: My love are you okay

Spidey boy: Are you mad at me

Spidey boy: I'm sorry if you are

Spidey boy: Please talk to me

Mi corazón: I'm sorry Miles I was asleep yes I'm fine I'm not mad at you ill come over to your house after school tomorrow make sure you save me some of your mom's food 🤤i love you bb 💋

He's a big family guy so he wants to drag you to every family event that happens

Mama Rio saves you plates if you can't come and if you do she gives you tons and tons of food ( and you have to eat it all it or else)

Remembers all your favorite things meals, flowers, movies, shows, colors etc anything and everything

When he's nervous he bounces his legs or picked at his nails

Helps you pick out outfits

During class, he draws little doodles of you on his paper plus he draws you guys as little stick figures holding hands with hearts and passes it to you

Helps stray animals like cats and dogs he feeds them and pets them

Has a mural for you

If he can't sleep because he missed you he facetimes you so he can sleep

When he does face time you, the call last forever

Loves it when you hold him holding his face while you place kisses all over him, while you draw lines with his freckles

His freckles come out a lot more in the summer because of the sun he has them all over his back

Loves hugs

Likes to walk with you to simple places like the park or to an ice cream place

He's the singer in the spider band

He's tenderheaded so he never has his hair in braids

He has like a million pictures of you

He's a picky eater

Miles 42

He spoils the crap out of you if you even glance at something in the store he's already ready to buy it

Worker: I'm sorry sir but the wine glasses are not for sale

Miles: If she likes the wine glass I'm getting her the wine glass.

Worker: sir why can't you understand these are not for sale

Miles: why can't you understand that I'm getting the glasses

He got the glasses thirty minutes later

He does your hair in whatever braids you want because his mom taught him

He knows how to dance but he only does it with you

His love language is gift giving

He buys matching stuff for you guys necklaces, bracelets, plushies etc

He draws but not super often but when he does it's beautiful

He sometime listens to his dad favorite songs when he misses him

Sees Uncle Aaron as his semi father figure

His favorite game is uno even when Uncle Aaron gets mad and almost punches Miles

Helps his mom cook

His favorite season is winter because he loves the memories it brings of his dad

Lays down flowers and talks to his dads grave

He's a dry texter but he does text you

Knows you better than yourself he can always tell when somethings up

He's a cuddlebug even if he doesn't show it

He loves kisses he doesn't use chapstick but if you're wearing some he’ll kiss it off you

Face times you while he plays his games or is spray painting

Knows all the cool secret abandoned spots

Hates pictures of himself loves them of you tho

He's good at every subject in school

Helps with homework if you need it

Mama Rio loves you because ever since you came into his life he started being more happy after his dads death

Has nightmares of his dads death

He hates the morning

Loves to stargaze with you (knows all constalations)

His favorite food his mom makes is Caldo Santo, Empanadillas, Flan de Queso

Loves all food not picky what so ever

Has a sweet tooth

He passes notes to you in class

He will literally do anything for you

Wears contacts because he hates his glasses

When you date him you get scary dog privileges

Will scare anyone away if they even glance at you but he's a sweetheart deep down

Doesn't know how to explain his emotions

Cats lowkey scare him but he likes them because they're more chill

His favorite gum is Polar Ice

Always completing you

“You look beautiful ma”

“My pretty girl”

“I love that dress on you Mami”

“Estás preciosa”

Loves to go shopping with you

Holds your bags

Helps you pick out clothes

“Miles do you think this looks good on me?”

“Yes mami get that one”

“What about this one? I think it looks a little weird in the back but I don't know”

“Oh lord I'm about to act up”

“Miles!”

His mom loves when you come over for dinner she loves the extra guests

Mama Rio shows embarrassing pictures of him from when he was a baby

“And this is when my beautiful baby got mud on him so he had to take a warm bubble bath with his favorite ducks!”

“Ma, please.”

Your biggest supporter in everything

Okay I can't think of anything else I love them there so silly goose

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #e!42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #miles morales #headcanon #e42 miles #earth 42 miles x you #miles molares #spiderverse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv #rio morales #spiderman #across the spider verse spoilers #into the spider verse #fluff #lovers #prowler miles #miles rambles #spiderman atsv #atsv fic #blurb #cute #such a cutie #send me asks #spiderverse 2

[abouttofillhisshoes]

You look so alive - M.H x Reader // pt4

A/N: Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me? Matty finally gets some. Almost. TW: Hard drugs, please take care of yourselves! Also very NSFW, minors dni. Ilysm @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff my one and only. I was concerningly high writing most of this, sorry if there are any spelling mistakes of any sort. Enjoy yourselves my loves❤️

wc: 5.5k

part five

June, 2008

Saturday morning, the sun is shining brightly through your curtains. The clock reads 8:32am. You’re awoken by a harsh knock on your window. Matty. You smile

Today is a particularly good day. It's your Birthday, your 18th, to be exact. You get up, and you can already hear the metaphorical birds chirping outside of your window. Slowly walking to your window, you're greeted by Matty grinning at you through the glass. 

“There's my birthday girl,” he says, pulling you in for a hug. The ‘my’ makes your heart skip a beat, but you inevitably push the feeling down. ‘Not now’.

The hug lasts a few seconds too long as he buries his face in your hair, taking a deep breath. Your hands trail down the expanse of his back, lingering around his waist. He releases you, climbing into the room. 

You get dressed. A black dress, lace and frills adorning the edges. Matty is wearing his blue Barcelona shirt. He managed to get the stains out of it, you notice. His favorite pair of skinny jeans cling to his legs, even if just a bit looser.

Watching you do your makeup, he smiles at you endearingly. It had been two months since he hung up on you. You didn't talk about it, you never did. What was the point? It would just bring up more confusing feelings you weren't ready to deal with. Things were better the way they were, and they stayed like that. Until they didn't. 

You finish rather quickly, turning to look at him. He knows that look.

“You got any on you?” you ask. 

He nods, grinning as he reaches into the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a red cigarette case, opening it slowly as you sit down next to him. In it, were two pre rolled spliffs. Next to them, was the thing you were actually asking about. A baggie filled with white powder. 

Ever since that night, you’d wanted to experience what you felt again. Over and over. Matty already knew a few good guys who had set decent prices. He started picking up for the both of you, always splitting the sum. You reached into your pocket to pull out the cash for your portion, but he pushed your hand away. 

“It's your birthday, darling, I can't let you pay for anything, it wouldn't be right.” he winks at you. Darling. You nod, laying back onto the bed, watching him. 

He searches your room for something to cut the lines with, settling on your Hollister members card. Grabbing your bio notebook, he shakes just enough of the substance onto the surface for both of you. 

You snort yours first, moving out of the way to give Matty his go. The both of you stare at each other before breaking out into uncontrollable laughter, falling into each other's arms. You lay like that for a bit, before Matty gets up. 

“C’mon, we’re taking you out for your birthday. The big one-eight!” he laughs, clearing off the surface. He rubs the remainder on your gums. The feel of his fingers in your mouth is strangely erotic, you involuntarily let out a soft moan. He looks at you funny, and you shake your head, brushing it off. He tucks the cigarette case back into his jeans.  

You go through the front door this time, knowing your mother was at the office. On your 18th birthday, your own parent had decided work was more important. Fuck her, honestly. You don't lock the front door, knowing you wouldn’t be able to find your keys later. 

The two of you take the short walk to the local corner shop, Adam, Ross, and George already standing there with… balloons? 

A giant pink balloon floated over Hann’s head, and he grins at you as you walk towards him.

“For the birthday girl– a pretty pink balloon.” you can hear the other three boys sniggering behind your back. With a roll of your eyes, you take the balloon from him, holding it awkwardly.

The bell rings as you open the door to the shop, greeting Becca, the woman behind the counter, with a smile. She waves back, already turning around to grab a pack of your favourite fags for you. The two of you were friends, having met at a party a few years back. She sold you whatever you needed, ignoring the fact you were underage for years. 

Her eyebrows raise as she notices the balloon. “It's my birthday today!” you say, louder than expected. She shook her head, immediately noticing something off. Placing the bottle of vodka on the counter, you hand her your I.D with a toothy grin, and she scans it. 

“It's on the house, darling, but..” she trails off, leaning into you. You do the same, listening intently. “Lay off a bit, your pupils are fucking huge and its 10 in the morning” her words take you by surprise. Taking a look in the mirror of the shop bathroom, you confirm her statement. 

Splashing some cold water onto your face, you shake off the feeling of dread. Today was a good day, nothing was going to ruin it. You take a pair of sunglasses out of your bag. They were pink with a black rim, complimenting your outfit. 

You make your toward the exit, fags and vodka in hand, waving goodbye to Becca. She smiles at you, but it looks off. You ignore it, pushing the door open with your shoulder. Matty greets you with a smile, taking the bottle off you. 

You look to your left to see George welding what looked like a Sainsburys shopping cart. Cocking an eyebrow, you walk toward him. George takes the balloon, tying it to the shopping cart before opening his mouth to speak. 

“Go on, get in birthday girl,” you give him a skeptical look, before you feel hands gripping your waist. Flailing in the air, you realize Ross had picked you and was now placing you into the cart. Inside was a 6 pack of beer, and various food items. 

You flip Ross off, cursing him out for basically throwing you into a metal shopping cart. The five of you spend the day like that, riding around. You cruise down highways, and at some point, Matty gets in with you. You're both pressed up against each other, legs intertwining.

A blue ferrari whizzes past you, honking aggressively. Neither of you was sober enough to care, throwing beer bottles after the car, narrowly missing it. Adam was paranoid that the driver was going to call the cops, but he was promptly ignored by the rest of you. 

For some reason or another, you end up in a McDonald's parking lot. It's dirty and fairly empty, tire tracks marking up the pavement. George had paid for your food, and you were all munching away happily at your burgers. Matty was moaning into his chicken burger like it was heaven as a food item.

“Jesus mate, I'm not sure I want to hear your sex noises while trying to enjoy my food, tone it down, will you?” Ross says, pulling a face. Matty responds by letting out a loud groan, licking the sauce off of his fingers. 

“You love my sex noises, don't lie. Remember that time I was shagging Ava in the loo at George's party and you were standing outside the whole time?” he says with a full mouth. Ross shakes his head, whispering quiet words of denial. 

Matty shoots you a look, and you nod. “I need a piss,” you say, getting up. “Matty?” 

He gets up, wiping his hands on Hann’s shirt, and he smacks him across the face. Matty just laughs, turning to leave with you.  

“Why do you always go piss together? A bit weird, innit?” George comments, cocking an eyebrow. “We’re going for his hourly blowjob, George, didnt you know?” you joke, nudging Matty in the ribs. A collective “Ewww” sounds from the group as you leave. 

The bathroom is a borderline health hazard, the sinks covered in a type of grime you can only describe as slimy. Matty swipes it off as best he could, taking the red cigarette case back out. He goes through the routine, cutting up two lines with that same Hollister card. 

“D’you have any cash on you?” he asks, giving your frame a once over. You nod, taking out a tenner from your bra. 

His eyes linger on you, and you feel naked, exposed. He knew. He knew why you had gone out that night. He knew about the dream, you were sure of it. 

He chuckles as he sees where you’d been keeping the money before rolling it and handing it to you, ever the gentleman. 

This line felt different, stronger. You assume he cut more than last time. Taking a sip from the sink, you fix your hair in the mirror, wiping under your nose. Matty does his line. He gathers the loose powder onto his middle and index fingers, his other hand cupping your face. Rubbing onto your gums, you can feel them start to go numb. He holds eye contact, as if he were waiting for something. He got what he wanted when you let out a soft groan, your eyes never leaving his.

His hand leaves your jaw, instead running through his air. He doesn't put the cigarette case away just yet, taking one of the zoots out. Handing it to you, you tuck it away in your pocket. 

Making your way outside, you notice the streetlamps were already on. Was it that late already? The guys had already finished their food, wrappers littering the inside of the cart. They were standing next to each other, like they were waiting. You walk up to George, cheekily pulling out the joint from your pocket. 

“Sweet! But before that, we have something for you,” you look confused. Adam then takes his hands from behind his back, revealing a square velvet box. You take it, glancing at Matty. He nods, signaling at you to open it. 

Inside is a silver necklace, in the shape of a star. Not any star though, it was the same shape as the tattoo you had on your hip. Before you could stop them, tears welled up in your eyes, dripping down onto the metal. 

“Fuck you– did you really?” you ask, your vision blurry. They all nod, taking a step closer, giving you a half-awkward group hug. Matty stroked your hair, taking the necklace out of its box. His fingers are like electricity against your skin as he moves your hair out of the way, undoing the clasp of the necklace. 

“Thank you so much– fuck i’m crying,” your hand wipes at your face, taking some of your mascara with it. “God, I'm so pathetic.” Your heart filled with love for your friends, and you gave them each an individual hug. Ross lets out a deep chuckle, wiping more of your tears. Fucking hell.

Mattys hug is long, once again burying his face into your hair. He squeezes you, his hands resting on your waist when he pulls away. You fight the urge to kiss him. No, not now.

Forcing yourself to get your shit together, you walk toward the giant, half-drank bottle of vodka, taking a swig. 

You hear the others talking amongst themselves, with Ross raving on about the latest Macclesfield town game and how much they sucked.

“They played like the ball had been invented 15 minutes before they were set to play,” he scoffed, finishing his beer, smashing the bottle on the floor, the shards scattering around him. No one knew why he did that, he just did. 

Matty was stood next to you, his shoulder pressed against yours, headphone wires between you. The sun was starting to set, the purple light making Matty look ethereal. You really, really wanted to kiss him. But you don't, instead opting to pick at your freshly manicured nails. 

The two of you sat there, next to each other, neither daring to move. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------

“You have to sanitize everything so you dont cause some sort of gnarly infection, yeah?” Rome explained, wiping down the needle with a disinfectant wipe. You watched intently, making a mental note. 

He had agreed to teach you how to pierce people when you vaguely mentioned having an interest in it. Rome wasn't the best, but he had done your bellybutton pretty well, so why not?

The needle looked intimidating, your hands shaking slightly as you gripped the base. He was letting you pierce his ear for practice, on the condition you promise you won't completely fuck it up.

The jewelry he had picked was a silver cross with red details that shimmered when you held it to the light. You had commented on it, and he mentioned he had some similar jewelry for your type of piercing. Humming in response, you thanked him as he gave it to you, even going so far as to switch it out. 

Rome was calm, trusting you fully. “Just slowly push it in, and thread the jewelry through the top part. After that, just pull it through. It's simple really, just don't fuck up.” he shoots you a grin, and you laugh at him sarcastically.

With laser focus, you pierce the needle through the marked skin in one go, ignoring his pained hiss. The jewelry went in without a hitch, and Rome got up to admire your work. 

“S’not bad for your first time,” he said with a wink, and you roll your eyes, thanking him for letting you do this. 

You say goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek, slamming the front door shut. 

Matty had called you earlier, asking if you wanted to come over to his. His parents were gone, and he had the house to himself. 

Your bag clinked as you slung it over your shoulder, walking the short distance to his house. The setting sun shone into your eyes, and you take out those same sunglasses you had worn on your birthday. 

Knocking on the door, it's not long before Matty answer. He's wearing a dark green zip up, black sweatpants hanging low on his waist. The skin of his chest peaks out from underneath the thick material. You swallow, hard.

He lets you in, and you make your way to the wine fridge (yes, wine fridge), pulling out an unopened bottle of Merlot. He takes two fresh glasses out of the cupboard, and you pour a healthy amount into them.       

You and Matty spent most of your time getting hammered and talking nonsense and watching nonsense TV. Nothing seemed to make sense around him. Your heart was beating against your ribcage as if it was trying to break out of your chest. You sit down, laying your head down onto his chest. 

The telly was turned up, some cartoons playing. You just couldn't focus on anything. You nudge Mattys hip, giving him a look and he knew. Getting off him, you sit down onto the floor next to the posh crystal coffee table. He came back, holding a baggie filled with more blow than you had ever seen in your life. 

“Where'd you even get that much? Christ Matty, that's like 400 quid worth of the stuff in one bag.” he smiles at you.

“My parents are rich, remember? 400 quid is a dinner date for them.”

You can't help but grin, scooting closer to the table. He cuts two lines for both of you, and you do yours straight off the table, not even caring. 

The two of you return to your previous position on the sofa, with you pressed up against his chest. You've abandoned the glasses, decided to just drink from the bottle. Who was watching? 

His heart was beating in his chest, you could hear it. Your hands wander to his waist, pulling him close. 

He loses a hand in your hair, scratching your scalp in the way he knew you liked. Your breathing is shallow, you feel lightheaded, all because of fucking Matty. You attempt to convince yourself there is nothing there, spending endless nights pondering, trying your hardest to get him out of your head. 

His hand moves down to your jaw, playing with your earrings. His skin feels hot. You feel hot. 

Matty turns your head, angling it toward him. You were looking at each other now. The look in his eye indiscernible as they darted all over your face, landing on your lips. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, and he sucked in a deep breath before connecting his wet lips with yours. 

Gripping the back of your neck, he maneuvers you on top of him. Both of your legs were on either side of his, straddling him. He moaned into the kiss, tilting his head slightly to the left. 

You take over the kiss, biting down onto his lower lip, hard. He's breathless, gasping for air as he pulls away. You stare at each other, out of breath and sweating. 

“What are yo-,” you start,

“Shut up, just– be quiet.” 

He pulls you back in, your lips crashing against his. His hand travels down to cup your chest through your shirt, tweaking your nipple. He groans, the noise turning into a high-pitched moan as you dig your nails into his scalp. 

“You like that?” you ask, giving his hair a tug. The whimper that comes out of his mouth is all the confirmation you need. 

You stop again, and your eyes meet his. His chest moves up and down in rapid succession, and you can feel his heart beat even quicker. 

“I don't- just please– fuck, don't stop.” he pleads with you, his hand trailing down your lower back. The look on his face is delicious. He's begging. A bead of sweat runs down his face, disappearing into his hair. 

Your lips connect with his neck, biting down into his skin. The noises that escape him can only be described as pornographic, his voice reverberating through the room, the high ceilings amplifying them. 

Continuing your attack on his throat, you listen to the sounds he lets out, drinking them in. It was music to your ears, hearing him like that. Because of you. 

Matty presses a hand to your chest, making you stop.  

“Maybe we shouldn't- I mean, wouldn't it be weird?”

You nod in agreement, sitting up on top of him. It would be weird around the others. You try to seem unbothered, it's not like you felt anything for him. Of course you loved him, as a best mate, and all of this had been a horrible mistake.  

A nervous laugh leaves his lips, morphing into a genuine one. “Can you imagine? Us? Hann’d lose his mind.” you crack a smile, imagining Adam's reaction to your current position. 

You slowly get off of him, turning your attention to the abandoned bottle of wine laying on the table. Picking it up, you gulp the rest down, wiping your mouth clean. Clean of Matty. You know it's wrong to want him like this, to want to feel his skin against yours. You ignore every primal instinct telling you to get back on him, to kiss him again, instead, you make yourself comfortable on the floor.  

He turns the telly up, switching to a news channel instead. You didn't dare look at him, afraid of what you’d see. You feel a tap on your shoulder. “Y’know, just because we stopped.. doesn't mean you can't like, lay on me and stuff.” he gestures to himself before patting the space next to him. 

“Lots of people would pay good money to be able to touch me, so you better make the most of it,” a grin spreads onto his face as you get up. 

You lay back down, settling into him completely. This is fine. This is totally fucking fine. Sucking in a deep breath, you turn your attention to the TV in front of you, losing yourself in the colors. 

His hand searches for yours, intertwining your fingers with one another. What was he doing? A million thoughts run through your mind. One thing was clear, you definitely needed another drink. 

Time passed, becoming more and more irrelevant as the hours ticked by. The two of you had moved to his bed, lying next to each other. Bon Jovi’s ‘Vienna’ played softly through your headphones, his voice piercing your thoughts. Despite what he might tell other people, Matty loved Bon Jovi. He would rave on about his music for hours, and you would listen to every word, a familiar warmth spreading through you. Adoration.

Matty had already fallen asleep, softly snoring into the pillow. You turned off the music, slowly taking out the headphone from his ear. He stirred for a second, muttering something in his sleep, but didn’t wake up.

You look at him, hair falling over his face in loose curls. The soft sound of his breathing filled the air, acting as a sort of white noise for you. You lay down facing him, and stroke his face lightly. He was beautiful like this, peaceful. 

—---------------------------------------------------------

Morning came slowly, the sun gradually peaking through the blinds as it came up. Matty woke up before you, getting ready quietly before shaking you awake. You borrowed some of his clothes, pulling on a black and yellow striped shirt over a pair of his jean shorts. He opted for just layering a black tank top underneath the outfit he already had on.

The walk to the bus stop was quiet, the sound of chirping birds filling your ears. It was a Monday morning, so both of you were sober and ready to learn (ugh). Once again walking arm in arm, you had gotten to the stop earlier than intended, sitting down on the metal bench. 

Neither of you spoke about the previous night. It was better that way. Matty got out a pack of cigarettes, pulling out two. One for you, one for him. He lights yours. 

You spot the bus, throwing your half smoked cigarette to the ground, and he does the same. He leads you to the front of the bus, giving you the window seat. Matty loved the window seat. 

His head is once again in your lap, acting like the past 12 hours simply hadn't happened. You were content with that, softly stroking his hair, curling and uncurling it with your grown out nails. “Let's skip last lesson,” he suggests “George is at his nans anyway. What's the point?” you nod in agreement, leaning your head against the glass. 

Neither of you had bothered bringing anything today, both your bags only filled with lighters, makeup, and maybe the occasional notepad. The halls are unusually empty for this time of day, but you just brush it off. You and Matty trudge to the classroom, flinging open the door to be met with a very angry looking Mrs. Sexton  

She has a go at you, yelling about how it's ‘incredibly disrespectful’ to come 15 minutes late to her class again. You offer her a shrug, sitting down at your usual table. Matty is quiet today, hungover and way too sober to say anything to the insults being strewn at him from a few tables back. The group of boys won't let up, chatting shit the entire lesson. You ignore them.

Class ends, and you’re walking down the halfway arm in arm, talking about how much Mrs. Sexton fucked you off. 

“Look at him, fucking fairy, isnt he? Even his little girlfriend wont snog him. Disgusting,” They spit at you, laughing in their little group. The comment made about you makes Matty turn around.

“D’you know why i'm not snogging her, mh?” he stares daggers into the guy whoever dared to utter a word at you, running his hand through his hair. “I’ve been too busy fending off your girl, talking ‘bout ‘oh please make me cum Matty, my boyfriend never touches me right-” A punch to the gut punctuates his sentence, making him fall to the ground. 

Matty doesn't stay down too long, getting up and throwing himself at the bloke who hit him, tackling him. He starts hitting him properly, throwing punches at his head. In turns, the guy smacks him across the face, making Matty roll off of him. 

Eventually, the guys' mates pull them apart, spitting more insults at Matty and you. Matty spits on the ground infront if him, giving him a wink. The two of you then book it down the hallway to the nearest loo, locking yourselves in. 

The moment you both look at each other, laughter fills the space. “You're mental, you know that?” you say through giggles, wiping the tears from your eyes. “He could've actually hurt you!- Fuck, your eye.” you see a gash underneath his left eye, it was bleeding. 

Grabbing as much toilet roll as you could, you hold it to the cut, trying to stop the bleeding. “Oh, bugger off, it's nothing.” he says, wincing as you press down harder. “Don't even try to do your ‘oh i'm so masculine’ schtick with me, I swear to god.” your hand holds his head, making it easier for you to press the paper against his cheek. 

Thats when you realise how fucking close your face is to his. He’s sitting on the closed toilet lid, and you're on your knees, of all places. Last night was really, truly, messing with your mind. His leg twitches slightly, eyes peering down at you. You can see him take a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. 

You feel a blush creep onto your cheeks as you look up at him. Silence fills the room, the only sound being your knees shuffling against the tile. His legs spread slightly, allowing you to scoot toward him. This is so fucked up.

“Can I kiss you?” his voice comes out meek and non-committal, eyes avoiding yours. 

“Only if you look at me, Matty.” you answer, straightening your knees, making yourself taller.

He forces himself to meet your gaze, pulling his lip in between his teeth. You nod, bringing your face to his, but not letting your lips touch. That was his choice. 

His eyes bore into yours, as if he was trying to peer into your soul. He probably was. 

“You're so beautiful,” he says, sounding confident, sure. He closes the gap between you, his hand grabbing at the base of your neck. You moan into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck. The blush that was previously confined to just your face spreads all over your body, making you feel as if you were on fire. Matty lit your skin on fire. 

Then, he did something you didn't expect. He got up, taking you with him. With a force you didn't think he had, he pushed you up against the wall. Your mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. His whimpers fill the bathroom stall as you rake your nails down his back, digging them into it.

You gasp when he brings a knee up between your thighs, pushing up further. Breathless, you pull away, gasping for air. His hand traces up and down your jawline, nails scratching the skin. He places a peck onto your cheek, then your chin, making his way down your neck. You have no choice but to moan whenever his lips make contact with your skin, silently begging for more. 

The bathroom door slams open, a group of girls piling in. Matty slaps a hand over your mouth, stifling your noises before anyone could hear. They start talking, and all you could do was focus on trying to not make a sound as Mattys knee moved up even higher. You look at him, panic in your eyes. You desperately didn't want to get caught.

He listens to your silent pleas, lowering his knee from its position. His mouth catches your lips in another kiss. The two of you stay like that until the girls decide to clear out, closing the door behind them. He tastes like cigarette smoke, then again, so do you. He interlocks his fingers with yours, pressing them up against the door. His tongue dances with yours, and you feel sparks of electricity travel up your spine.

He moans your name, your hand gripping at the roots of his hair, pulling tightly. He seemed to respond most when you did that. He responded to pain. Your nails digging into his back, your teeth biting his lip. Everything suddenly made sense, especially the time you had cut his hair. Those sounds he had disguised as coughs weren't cries of pain, but of pleasure. 

You file away that information for another time, if there would even be another time. “Let's get you home,” you say, pressing a hand to his chest. His expression caused you physical pain, looking down at you like a kicked puppy. 

You didn't want to want him like this, but your body and mind had apparently made a different decision. You lead him out of the stall, out of the bathroom and down the hall, making your way to the parking lot. The air was thick, but somehow still comfortable. You could feel his eyes on you for most of the walk to his house. For the first time since you had met, you were the one walking him home. 

Hugging him at the door to his house, he leaned in to kiss you. You let him, his hands gripping your waist like it truly was his anchor to reality. This goodbye felt different, it felt hard. 

 

// Matty //

Picture a scene: A darkened room, the only light coming from cracks in the curtains. The sheets are cold against his skin, giving him a sense of comfort. 

His hands trace down his chest, grazing the skin lightly. He repeats the movement, sighing as his fingers linger over his nipples. The room is warm, or maybe that's just him. Regardless, he takes off his shirt, throwing it into a corner somewhere in his room.

He thinks about the kiss. The way your bodies moved against each other as if it were second nature. It felt right. Your lips against his, moans leaving his mouth involuntarily. He broke the kiss first, not wanting to go too far. He so desperately wanted to.

He couldn't hold back in the bathroom, with you looking up at him like that, eyes full of worry for his well being. He had fought for you, trying to defend your honor like some sort of disney prince. It did work, but he didn't like to fight. It wasn't who he was as a person. It wasn't who Matty was around you. 

He palmed himself through his boxers, a groan tearing itself from his throat. He imagined it was your hand instead of his, the mental image of you with him, in this position, made all the blood in his head rush to his cock. The pressure was almost too much. Almost.

He imagined you above him again, your eyes never leaving him, always looking at him. His body yearned for your attention, for your touch. The shuffling of his boxers down his thighs is incredibly loud in the near silent room, the bed creaking beneath him. 

He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, the tip leaking precum. Tugging at himself, he closes his eyes, picturing you. The way your neck cranes to look at him when he's laying on top of you. The way your lips wrap around the opening of a wine bottle, the liquid sloshing down your throat. The way you kissed him, taking complete control of the action. Taking complete control of him. 

He can feel himself getting close, teetering on the edge. His noises get louder, echoing through the room. Attempting to muffle himself, he shoves his head into his pillow, biting down. It's useless, he starts helplessly rutting into the mattress, begging for release. He imagines your voice, telling him to ask you for permission. 

“P-please– fuckkk,” he stutters out.

No one can hear him, he knows that well enough. He just can't stop himself. He comes, hard, spilling into his hand. 

He lays there, sweating, panting. The only thought in his clouded mind: You.   

#matty finally gets some #kinda #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty the 1975 #matty x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #drive like i do #matty healy x y/n

[apollodeath]

MORE KÖNIG HEADCANNONS!

I loved writing them last time so I thought I’d drop some more!

Here’s my other hc’s

MDNI

NSFW and SFW mixed together

Warnings: mentions of slapping, rough, blood and, of course sexual topics.

König loves hearing you say his name, but even more when you attempt to say German words

You usually ask “how do you say _” and he’ll repeat it until you get it.

König gets embarrassed if someone makes fun of his accent when he speaks English

He has favorite English words “cat” is one lol

If you ever accidentally get a cut on your finger and it begins to bleed he will lick the blood off and give your cut a kiss

If you raise an attitude and say something out of line expect a slightly harsh slap from him. He doesn’t do it to hurt you but for you to understand what you’re doing is being bratty plus he knows it makes you hot and bothered.

König loves Halloween purely to start scaring you randomly throughout the day

Once hid in the bathtub for 20 minutes to scare you while you peed but, he didn’t realize you didn’t have to pee for awhile lol

When you are on top, riding him he loves having a pillow under his head to help him stay up and watch you fully submerge his thick length deep in you over and over again.

He loves the sound of the lube slapping sound while the both of your hips collide together

Sometimes when he’s close to cumming he loves edging himself in you by staying completely still and letting himself pulse in you, he usually has his back curled forward holding your hips so tight holding on to the burning release in his core. Just to wait enough to start thrusting fully again and repeating the process as long as he wants

When he is ready for the release he’s a moaning mess slurring every word he’s trying to get out and starts oozing the first stream of seed his eyes roll back and his mouth gapes open quite literally drooling as his toes curl and hips lock stuck to yours and his cock unloads massive amounts.

Notes: got carried away on that one my bad

He doesn’t mind sitting in silence all day, non-verbal days or moments are completely fine for him

When you aren’t tired he’ll always suggest three things: warm milk, orgasming or a warm shower before bed (which will probably lead to the second thing)

He loves offering you his food even if you have your own

If you’re out in public he doesn’t enjoy a lot of pda but he enjoys hand holding soft touch of his leg under the table or in the car

If he can manage to squish himself into your clothes he’ll accidentally put it on (even if it’s a crop top)

He has a preference on lube so he’ll go to the store himself and read every bottle/tube until he finds a perfect one

Once he went into a sex toy shop and read the back of a “heated and tingly” one and his skin crawled thinking ‘who would want it to be hotter’

Left the shop with a bag. Bag contents: dildo, lube, condoms, flavored condoms, silk rope and a lolli pop shaped like a penis (a gift for you)

He is a soup girly

König will break something accidentally in a glass shop (he’ll buy it after)

He loves when you ask before pulling off his mask “May I take off your mask, my love?” He’ll think if he’s okay with that before answering “I’d like to keep it on just for a little longer” he blushes “of course, köni~”

When he’s away on deployment he lays in his bed and misses your arms around him

He always awaits the moment of getting to hear your voice over the phone when he’s away

If randomly he begins to think of your body while trying to sleep he’ll surely get hard and try ignoring it at first but if it persist he’ll make his way out of the sleeping quarters to the bathroom, bringing his Polaroid of you with him.

Once he was sitting on the lid of the toilet in a stall late at night. His legs outstretched, one hand on his balls and base holding his cock up while the other stroked fast enough to hear the precum slap in his hand with every stroke, he let himself moan your pet names and heavy breathing knowing everyone was asleep down the halls and couldn’t hear him

He once was caught and boy did the others hold it over his head. Some teasing jokes and Soap even mimicking his moans which lead to the group laughing.

It stopped when soap walked in and saw König’s cock while getting out of the shower

Ghost and König def don’t like each other. I feel like they get competitive

That’s it for now! I got super carried away on some but I hope y’all like them💗

#konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig mwii #konig smut #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig smut

[roosterforme]

Specialty Goods | Hangman x Reader

Summary: Jake is tasked with planning a holiday get-together. He’s unhappy about it, until you offer to let him sample the specialty goods. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut and swears

Length: 2000

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Seriously, who let Jake in here??! He even managed to sneak onto my masterlist!

I wrote this for the Dicked Down December challenge! I hope my fic recipient enjoys it!

Jake groaned, head tossed back in extreme annoyance. He had literally pulled the short straw. 

"Sucks to be you, Bagman," Phoenix told him with a bright laugh as she gathered together the pieces of the drinking straws she had cut up and tossed them in the trash. 

"Yeah, have fun planning the Christmas party," Bob told him, slapping him playfully on the back. 

Jake scowled. He was now solely responsible for planning the Dagger holiday get-together, something he had absolutely no interest in doing. But he knew if he didn't plan something good, he would hear about it from his fellow aviators for the entire upcoming year. 

Since he was already at the Hard Deck, he decided to start making the plans now and get it over with. He'd just sweet talk Penny into helping him. "Penny, my dear, how do I go about planning a little holiday gathering in your lovely establishment?" he asked, leaning against the bar and giving her his sweetest smile.

Penny just smirked at him. "You pulled the short straw, didn't you?"

Hangman nodded his head and sighed. "Sure did."

Penny chuckled. "Okay, I'll have mercy on you. If you want, I can have Y/N help you set up a private event with a caterer and specialty drinks."

Jake straightened up at the mere mention of your name. He lived for the nights when you were bartending. He always found himself trying to stand a little taller, sound a little smarter when you were around. "Is she here today?" he asked hopefully, picturing your pretty smile and plush-looking lips in his mind. 

"She's off today, but why don't you come in on Sunday an hour or so before we open. She'll be here then, and she can help you out."

----------------------------------------

When Jake pulled into the parking lot on Sunday afternoon, he saw just one other car. Yours. He took a deep breath and checked his hair before walking inside.

"Well, if it isn't Hangman," you said from behind the bar. Your voice had a melodic quality that he really loved. 

As Jake's eyes adjusted to the dimly lit bar, he saw you were wearing a sundress, and you had piled your hair in a messy bun on top of your head. You were always beautiful, but today you looked adorable as well. He liked to hope it was just for him.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite bartender," he replied and started to make his way over to where you had lined up some glasses and bottles. 

When you crooked your finger at him, coaxing him to join you behind the bar, he had to stifle a groan. He could easily imagine you luring him to bed that way, and he needed to stay focused on the task at hand. But you had always been a little flirtatious with him, more so than with the other aviators. He never tried to make a move though; there was just something sacred about a Hard Deck bartender that made you seem unattainable. 

"Come check out what I've been working on," you told him, making room for him in the tight space. You handed him a martini glass filled with a red drink. "This one is a cranberry martini," you informed him. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the glass from you and tasted the cocktail. 

"Delicious," he told you, and he knew his gaze inadvertently dipped down to your mouth when he said it. "I like it, what else you got?"

You smiled up at him as he handed the glass back to you, and you took a sip as well. Your pink tongue darted out to catch a drop of the drink from the edge of the glass before setting it down on the bar. You were teasing him, whether or not it was your intention to do so.

Then you were speaking again, and he was trying his best to focus on your words. "I made a minty citrus gin cocktail. It's strong, but I kind of like it," you told him softly, taking a small taste yourself before handing it to him. Jake watched you lick your lips as he took the glass from you. He would rather just taste your lips to get an idea of what the drink was like. 

"I love it," he told you before he even took a sip.

You started laughing. "You didn't even taste it yet, Hangman!" 

He shook his head slightly and grinned. "You're too good for it to be bad," he promised, but he took a drink anyway. "It's perfect."

You grinned up at him as you grabbed the third drink and took a step closer to him. "This one is eggnog with extra rum and spices. I've never made one like this before."

Jake smiled. "Is it special, just for me?" he asked, dying to know how you'd respond to that.

Your eyes widened as you watched him take a sip. "You know I would never give away the specialty goods to anyone else," you said with a wink that had Jake's cock twitching with excitement. 

"Specialty goods?" he asked softly, his eyes dipping down to your chest. "You got any more of those that I can sample?"

You smirked at him. "I have one more thing ready for you," you whispered. "Wanna taste it?"

Jake nodded. "Yes. Please?" He was practically ready to beg you to let him taste your mouth. 

You bit your lip, seemingly trying to make up your mind before you reached for his hand and laced your fingers with his. Jake was instantly pulling you flush against him. He knew you could tell that he was hard, so he waited for you to make the next move. 

When you rested your palm against his chest before guiding your hand over his shoulder and around the back of his neck, he tightened his grip on your waist.

"Well... since you asked so sweetly," you whispered, rubbing your nose softly against his before you kissed him. Your lips were just as soft as he always imagined they would be. Jake guided your laced together fingers up until both of your arms were around him. 

Jake gently moved you until your back rested up against the edge of the counter. He ran his hands slowly up and down your sides as your kisses turned from the sweetest thing he had ever felt to something hotter. You wrapped one leg around his, pulling him until he was snug against your core.

"Oh, God," he gasped as he rubbed himself against your warmth, and you released his lips in favor of his neck. 

"Tell me you've thought about me like this," you whispered against his skin between kisses. "Tell me it's not just me."

"Fuck," he growled. "I think about you like this every time you make me a drink. Then I think about you when I get home."

You sucked hard on his neck. "Do you touch yourself?" you asked, and Jake started hiking up your short dress.

He grabbed your hips and ground against you. "I think you know I do, honey. And I'd love to touch you this time."

"Yes," you said before you licked his neck and moved your lips back to his. Jake let his fingers slip inside your underwear as he teased you before sliding a finger through your wetness. "Jesus," you gasped as he fucked you with one finger. He watched you reach along the wooden counter behind you with one hand, searching for something to grip onto. 

"You're gorgeous, honey," he whispered as you whined. "Can I fuck you?"

"Hangman," you moaned as he slid a second finger inside. 

"I'm Jake," he insisted next to your ear as he buried his face in your sweet scent. 

"Jake! Fuck me on the bar," you groaned. 

"I could listen to you say that all day," he grunted. He pulled his fingers out of your pussy, and lifted you up so you were sitting on top of the bar, a few feet away from the drinks you and he had been sampling. You squealed in delight as he jumped up next to you. You leaned back and turned slightly so you were laying down along the length of the bar, and he pressed himself on top of you.

With a smile on your face, you reached for the fly of his jeans and undid them. When you reached inside his boxes and pulled his length free, Jake let his head tip down to your shoulder. You stroked him and hummed next to his ear. "Now I'll think about this every time I pour a whiskey for you."

Jake mashed his lips against yours as he pulled your underwear to the side and groaned as he slid into your perfect little pussy. You whimpered and devoured his mouth while he pumped into you. The front door was unlocked, and Jake knew if someone was in the parking lot, they would be able to see what was going on through the windows. But that just added to the appeal for him, and apparently it was doing the same for you.

"This is filthy," he whispered against your skin.

"I've always wanted to do this," you said breathlessly as Jake pulled your dress down until he could get your nipple in his mouth. "And it's so good with you."

"Fuck!" Jake groaned. "You're killing me, honey."

"Keep going, Jake." He fucked you until he was on the edge of coming, and you ground up gainst him as you cried out, your voice echoing through the empty bar. 

"Can I cum inside you?" he managed to ask, ready to pull out if you said no. But you wrapped your legs around him and told him you wanted him to. So he came, hard, grunting and panting. 

Jake listened to the sound of your breathing and lifted his face to look at you, and then you pulled him down for another sweet kiss. You were smiling and teasing his lips when you both heard a car door slam shut. 

"Fuck!" you said in unison as Jake scrambled to get down from the bar, knocking over the cranberry martini in the process. He lifted you gently to the floor, and left you to stand on shaky legs. 

He quickly buttoned and zipped his pants before wiping up the spilled drink. He was pretty distracted by you as you tried to fix your dress and your hair before Penny walked inside. 

"Hi!" Penny greeted, eyeing both of you where you stood behind the bar. "I just wanted to make sure all of the party planning was coming along. Thought I'd pop in a little early."

"It's going great," Jake told her. "Just exactly what I was hoping for."

"Yep," you agreed, picking up a shaker that Jake suspected was empty. "Going so great."

"Good! Then I'll just be in the office until we open," Penny said, before disappearing through the back room.

"Close call," you whispered as Jake threw away the chipped martini glass. "Um..." you said, blushing profusely and kind of shrugging awkwardly at him. "That was..."

Jake pulled you against him and kissed you softly. "Do you want to come to this Christmas party with me? You'd be forced to spend the evening with my idiot friends, and I'm sure it'll probably be painfully annoying, but-"

"Yes, I'd love to."

---------------------------------------

Two weeks later, Jake was standing hand in hand with you, sipping on one of your specialty eggnog drinks and socializing with the other aviators and their significant others and families. The Hard Deck had been reserved for the private party, and Jake was actually enjoying himself. Probably because you were at his side wearing a dress he couldn't wait to take off of you later. 

"You enjoying that drink? Want another one?" you asked. "I'll get Jimmy to make two more for us."

Jake nodded. "I love the specialty goods around here," he said before kissing you.

-----------------------------------

Thanks for reading! But someone needs to take Jake home with them now, seriously.

@deactivated-bybloguser @sotalife @desert-fern @furiouspiespytaco @beyondthesefourwalls @rosiahills22 @high-bi-imgonnacry @daggerspare-standingby @je-suis-prest-rachel @callsign-joyride @theharddeck @captain-beskar @withakindheartx @roosterscockpit @whatislovevavy @rosesreekofoccasion @hangmanbrainrot @neferpatra @child-of-thedevil @callsign-joyride @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @mygyn @hoyaharper @tallyovie @gennyanydots @endofdays56 @whisperofsong @seriouslyseresin @double-j @bradshawsbitch @sugarcoated-lame @katiebby04 @anotherr-fine-mess @supernaturaldawning @chassy21 @strrywmen @tylerjones98 @captainjaspenor @gigisimsonmars @dhwanishah09 @angel-w0nderland @abaker74 @idontcare-11 @isaebellaa @bringnattolife @hufflepufftruffle @blahehblah @sehnsuchts-trunken

#dicked down december #top gun fanfiction #hangman top gun #hangman x you #hangman smut #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #hangman fic #hangman imagine #hangman x reader

[stevebabey]

Hi hi hi!! Congratulations so much on your milestone! I haven’t been following for very long but you are one of my favorite Steve writers, bar none. Thanks for sharing your writing with the internet 💖

📽 If I may step behind the beaded curtain of Family Video…

Post-battle, one of the many you’ve shared with Steve, and you just want to stop thinking. Thinking hurts, especially when you think about the fact that you almost just lost each other!! Steve is being lovey and sweet and altogether way too nice while you make out so you bite his lip, ruck your hands through his hair, roll your hips a little harder. He lets you flip him underneath you, but it’s still not enough, so you’re pulling at his mouth and fisting his shirt in ur hands and avoiding eye contact bc if you cry that’s it, it’s over, he won’t fuck you like you want it. But of course he notices, and tries to soothe you, “baby baby honey. Please. Shhhh. Talk to me” with kisses on your cheeks and petting at your hair and worry creasing his brow. And godammit if he doesn’t make you talk to him like a healthy adult who processes their feelings 🙄 before eating you out while holding ur hands for comfort. And maybe he doesn’t fuck you like you want it, but definitely how you NEED it. He always knows 🥺

(I’m sorry if that’s too long I just got so excited to share this and talk with you and if it’s not your style I totally understand and congrats regardless!!!!)

anon u came to the RIGHT place for some tender loving sex i am ALL for that shit!!! also hello!!!! i’m so very pleased to have u here!! u make me blush honey, and yes indeed come behind da beaded curtain hehe - also DAMN i do not know how to shut up apparently, i sat down to write this, fixed myself a g&t and clearly went a bit insane <3 hope u love! 18+ content below the cut MDNI

maybe it’s a bit too much of a close call this time, or it’s just that you’ve been here too many times but either way your nerves are frayed tonight— and the solution lies in steve’s arms. there’s something bout the skin-to-skin that soothes one part of you entirely while setting another part aflame- you love him and you nearly lost him tonight and it sets you about with a burning desire, nearly delirious in how his lips feel against yours, how he feels pressed against you when you grind in his lap and clutch at his shirt- you’re tugging at the fabric but don’t even pause your kisses for a moment, just try to tug it up and off. it’s the first sign to steve that tonight is different, that you’re needier than usual. he murmurs his assurances of love, soft and low, “it’s alright, honey,” he mumbles between the heated kisses, “we’re both alright, we made it out,” and he gives what you want, his shirt off and then your own

but he’s being soft, all delicate and caring with you and normally you adore that- the sweet lovebites scattered along your neck that’ll be gone by morning- tonight, instead it feels like you’re treated like glass, like in your mind maybe he’s still preparing to say goodbye in some twisted final way — so you use your hands to press him down, knees straddling his waist and try your best to let the message sink in; if he fucks you rough, it’s like none of the hurt of tonight happened, like the shit you went through didn’t happen at all. hands in his hair, hips rolling down sinfully and pulling groans from his throat, you reattach your mouths and desperation pours from your lips- you don’t want to slow down, to think about what you’ve both barely escaped and agonisingly, steve can tell — his hands grasp your face and halt your kisses but the moment you pause, you won’t look at him, can’t look at him. suddenly you’re embarrassed and steve is all quiet murmurs, “hey, hey, honey, what’s this? what’s going on with my girl?” and his nose nudges against yours, encouraging u to answer and your voice is smaller than ever as you give some pititful excuse, some line that usually riles him up, “just wanna feel you, stevie, just wanna fuck you,” and you grind down on him

steve knows you better than that though and though he hisses, pleasure spiking at the grind you give, he moves his hands to stop your hips- the movement they pause, his hands climb up and cradle your face as his features give away his worry. there’s a terrible furrow in his brown, eyes pooled with concern and he pulls you close, dozens of kisses against your cheeks, your nose, your forehead as he murmurs to you, “honey, please, talk to me,” and you do exactly what you’d been trying to avoid, fat tears welling in your eyes and shit, now you’re crying but it’s like it’s exactly what steve’s expecting — his arms are ready to hold every piece of you together while you cry shakily, whispered fears and confessions of love he’s already heard before and steve listens to it all- his kisses take your tears and when you calm, fear finally taking the back burner in your mind and breathing normal, he’s ready n waiting for you. “d’you want to just sleep?” he checks, lovingly and your shaking your head no quickly; you weren’t lying before, there’s an itch under your skin that can be sated only by his touch. steve doesn’t seem surprised but rolls the both of you over, kissing you with a bit more fervour now that he knows you’re truly alright - then he’s moving down the bed, kisses against your collarbones, down your sternum and when you voice your confusion steve’s raspy voice just says, “shh, it’s alright, lemme take care of my girl, yeah? you gonna let me take care of you?” his rough hands are already teasing the inside of your thighs so you can’t help but sigh out a yes

and he does take good care of you, one hand intertwined with yours as the heat of his mouth works your cunt, drawing whines and whimpers out- you’re clutching his hair and feeling hot in your skin, squeezing his hand as steve whispers his praise to you, “that’s it, so good f’me, doing so well,” until you’re spilling over the edge and quivering beneath his touch- but steve’s not done and he can tell you aren’t from the look in your eye. he’s somehow managed to melt away an extra layer of stress that you only notice in its absence so when he kisses back up your tummy and stretches you nice on his cock, you keen and melt into him, completely unwound— steve’s just as he was in the beginning, soft and sweet, all i love you’s scattered between the moans but you can tell know this is exactly what you need. you’re chest to chest and only trying to get closer, fingernails clawing at his back- you’d crawl into his skin if you could- and steve fucks you through it perfectly and you somehow come apart at how he just knows — he knows you, knows what you need and when to give it to you and that’s a kind of love you don’t think you’ll ever get used to- it’s a flurry of rushed kisses and sweet words, steve urging you with a rasp to cum with him, pleading and whimpering into your neck until you both come undone. you fall asleep in his arms to the ghost of a kiss in your hair

#it's tender loving sex and yet: no one look at me #maybe he doesn’t fuck you like you want it but definitely how you NEED it. He always knows #WHAT A PROMPTTTTT #its true i wanna be fucked like that omg #mdni #this was a delicious thought anon thank u for sharing #ruby writes steve #stevie drabbles! #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrrington x you #ruby's very own tour of hawkins #as emma was the one who first pushed me to write smut now every time i write anything smut related im like EMMA!! LOOK! LOOK I DID IT! AGAIN #hehehe

[jujutsutrash]

knife prty

modern!AU, just some bartender Geto. this was supposed to be a drabble ya know. Pairing: Geto x reader Word count: 2k exactly Warning: some alcohol, smoking, an annoying guy at a bar

A strange sound from a familiar voice catches Geto out of guard as it breaks through the music, making him lift his eyes from the clinking glasses to scan the space over the bar counter. It had been a mostly calm night at the Devilock, a rare feat he was ready to commemorate before he heard the noise. And there it was again, the angry grunting. And he was sure it was your voice.

Looking around once more, his eyes pierce through the crowd that gathered to watch the band. He doesn’t need to do much looking, however, as soon he spots you, coming to sit down at a corner of the counter, quickly followed by a strange man that sits beside you. And you don’t seem all that happy with the situation. Without thinking, Geto makes his way from his corner of the counter up to you. His mouth contorted into a tight, sly smile.

“Hey there, doll. My favorite patron needing anything?” His voice cuts through the music, the tightness of his smile spreading to his tone.

Geto sees your eyes lit up when he appears, but not in a way he likes. You’d often have a gleam in your eye when you approached him at the counter, but it was always a flirtatious charm. This time, it looked almost as if you had just spotted safe shelter in the middle of a storm. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Hey, Suguru,” you start, and Geto can feel a slight tremor in your voice, your usual cheerful tone constrained into something uncomfortable, “can you see me a co-”

“The doll here and I are gonna have a Negroni,” the man cuts you off, and Geto notices the way you stiffen at his voice, causing his eye to twitch.

“I didn’t say I was drinking with you,” you respond, looking the man up and down before you turn back to Geto, and although you are slurring, there is clear disdain in your voice. “Just a coke.”

“A coke and a Negroni then.”

Geto interjects in a harsh tone before the man can say anything else. He can feel bile rising to his throat, a part of him wanting to punch the guy right now, but he knows he can’t just jump on costumers. At least, not without a good reason. So he settles for the menacing tone, quickly turning to one of the fridges and grabbing a coke, turning around and pouring it for you, hardened stare set on the strange man.

You thank him quietly, and he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He can feel every fiber in his body tense, every muscle tight and on the edge. Geto tries to tell himself that he is just worried about you, as he would with any patron - wishfully trying to ignore the clear rage burning in him. But deep inside, he knows that the dread that settles in his stomach as he turns around to prepare the drink is more than normal worry.

Well, he can unpack this thought later.

“Come on, doll, you should have a drink with me. We could have some fun.”

The moment Geto turns his back to the counter, he can hear the man’s voice again. Disgusting. It sounds slimy and disgusting. And it settles in his spine the wrong way. His darkened eyes flicker to the mirror on the wall before him, spying on the situation to make sure the bastard doesn’t cross a line. He tugs his sleeves lower out of a nervous habit, almost as if he can feel the things they are meant to hide slipping out as Geto’s fist itches to find that guy’s face.

It’s like the loud music in the bar is almost drowned in the moment, all Geto can hear is the man’s voice and the clinking of his tools as he prepares the drink. His movements are fast and almost robotic, long fingers moving at top speed. His eyes keep darting from the task at hand up to the well positioned mirror - a clever way for the bartenders to manage to keep an eye on the bar while their backs are to the counter.

“Thanks, but no,” you reply, barely hiding a sneer. The man tries to put an arm around your shoulder, but you manage to avoid his touch. Utterly disgusting.

“Come on, baby, don’t be so stuck up, you are too pretty for that.”

“She already said no,” Geto interjects just as he slides the drink in front of the guy, lips pulled in a thin line, he is pretty sure a vein is popping on his face by now.

“Eh?” The man turns to Geto with narrowed eyes, looking way too smug for someone trying his best to pester a drunk woman at a bar. “What do you even know? We are just having a chat, run along, Mr. bartender.”

The man finishes his phrase with a chuckle before he drinks from his glass, the sound of his laugh almost making Geto gag. He only turns his eyes to you, not moving an inch, strong arms crossing over his broad chest. He wouldn’t dare leave you alone right now - there are other bartenders in the counter, he can hold his position for a few more minutes.

“I’m not interested, I think you should leave me alone,” your voice is cold now, despite the slight slurring, your blunt words making the guy freeze in place.

“Clear enough for you? I think it’s your time to leave.”

Geto just turn his eyes to the man, leering with white hot rage as he runs his tongue piercing over the back of his teeth, another nervous tick he’d picked up. He is almost on the edge, every nerve in his body telling him to solve this the old way he knows so well. But he reminds himself the last thing he needs after turning his life around is to go picking fights with people. He rather likes his freedom. But he is sure the manager would help cover up for him in this case.

“Come on, we are just partying, just having fun.”

The guy tries to reach out and touch you again, one hand holding his drink to his lips as you start cowering away. But Geto is faster this time, his large hand wraps around the man’s wrist in a death grip, veins popping in his forearm as his fingers tighten with a crushing force. The man whines at the aggression, and Geto scoffs. He doesn’t like displaying violence casually, this guy had already pushed his luck.

From the corner of his eyes, he can see his manager standing at the counter and looking in their direction. Those angry eyes move from the troublesome costumer to Geto with a snapping motion. Had it been when he’d just started the job, he’d been scared of losing his lifeline. But by this point he already knew his manager well enough to tell he was just in stand by to see if Geto would need help.

The rule at the Devilock was that violence was a solution to be used in moderation. But it could still be used.

“She said leave,” Geto repeats through gritted teeth, pulling the man in closer to him by the wrist, making him lean on the counter enough to see the work station underneath. “And I’m gonna give you two options, you leave by yourself through the front door, or I drag you through the backdoor, and you’re gonna see a different type of party.”

Geto’s eyes flicker from the front door back to the counter as he speaks, the man looking at him in clear fear. To punctuate his last line, he uses his free hand to pick up one of the big knives in the work station and sinks it in the cutting board, the sharp blade glistening in the dim bar light. When Geto let’s go of his wrist, the guy almost falls back, wide eyes looking between terror and rage as he almost falls off. 

At the end, he just steps away, quickly finding his own way out of the door. Geto sighs as the tension unwinds, putting the knife back in place and thanking his lucky starts that this didn’t lead to anything else. Now he really needed a fucking smoke.

“Thank you,” your soft voice cuts through his thoughts as you drag on the last word in an almost melodic way, “my knight in shining armor.”

Geto scoffs, looking at you with kind eyes. You were clearly drunk, skipping fast from discomfort back to your usual flirting with him. At another time he’d play along - even if he knew he couldn’t go much past just the flirting - but right now he could still feel the stress in his bones. Different from you, he was fully sober. 

“I’m anything but,” he responds with a tense chuckle, finally getting a good look at you as you lean your torso on the counter. “What was that?”

“That’s what I get when I’m polite,” you slur.

“Word to the wise, save your politeness for when you are sober, and the bar isn’t so packed.”

“Oh, I’m not that drunk,” you protest, and he can’t help but laugh, “by the way could you put some rum in my coke?”

You try to give him your best puppy eyes, and suddenly Geto is laughing. It’s like the stress is removed from his shoulders as that usual gleam returns to your gaze. But he wasn’t falling for that, you were clearly drunk.

“You can’t fool me, doll, you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight. Finish your coke, then I’ll get you some water.”

“Aw, now you’re being too knightly,” you respond with a pout, and Geto can’t help but think it’s adorable. “But it’s cute, because it means you care about me.”

You are back to the flirtatious tone, and Geto feels his cheeks burning as he hears the snickering laughs of his manager. Quickly, he looks down to the sink, getting busy with washing the glasses, hoping the dim light of the bar won’t reveal the red in his face. You have a way of getting under his skin, and it almost makes him forget all the stress of the world around you both.

“Yeah, no more alcohol for you, for sure,” he shoots back with a soft laugh.

You stay on the counter and does as he says, it doesn’t take much for you to sober up again. That night, Geto walks you out of the bar, using his smoke break to wait with you for your cab. The hour is late, the streets outside are empty, save for the two of you. Geto enjoys those peaceful few minutes with you more than he knows he should. When it’s over, he just stands alone, contemplating the smoke from his cigarette as it seeps into the air, trying not to think of how he wants to see you again already.

Just as his smoke break is ending, and he is about to go back, Geto spots an unwelcomed face peeking from the corner of the street, only partially illuminated by the cold lamp post. It’s the guy he’d kicked off earlier. The man tries to jump him but ends up with his back hitting the ground. He picked a fight with the wrong guy. 

The man gets up to his feet, seeping with anger. Geto isn’t interested in starting anything, but he isn’t beyond defending himself. Violence was a solution to be used in moderation. But it could still be used. Though, tonight he didn’t even need to fight. Just as Geto steps under the lamp light and rolls up his sleeves to get into a fighting stance, the man freezes, eyes wide in fear again before he starts scrambling back.

Shit, now he needed another cigarette, but his smoke break had just ended. Well, back to the bar it is.

#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto #jjk x reader

[fluffyprettykitty]

Party Tricks

Pairing: Tony Stark x female reader (no other specifications!)

(ft. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson)

Word Count: 1020 words

Outline: Tony brings his friends over to observe his favorite party trick.

Author's Note: Had the scene on my mind one night and it all manifested from there.

Warnings: inspection kink, pet play, dom/sub, orgy shenanigans, finger fucking, finger sucking, oral sex (f receiving), oral fixation, degradation, humiliation, swearing, objectification, alcohol mention, smoking.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics //​ banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Tony Stark Masterlist

NSFW UNDERNEATH THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

Avengers Tower, midnight.

“You are not going to believe how easily wet she gets.”

The sound of your dom’s voice jolts you into action looking curiously in the direction of it. Tony is sitting in the middle of the group, above the staircase, holding a champagne glass in his hand and pointing at you. 

“Is almost a joke.” He continues. “You just touch her neck or push her head and she's ready to moan, is almost pathetic. She's the neediest fucking slut I've ever seen." Tony says looking directly at you, and this gesture almost embarrasses you. He is moving towards, as a matter of fact, the whole group. 

You were sitting on the nearby couch, close enough to hear his voice in the middle of the avenger's celebration party. You were in a room that overlooked the rest of the tower, music coming from the glass stairs. Twenty minutes ago Tony had informed you that people were leaving and the party would be over and he would require your services. 

"Now, you don't believe me.” He chuckles placing his glass on the table and sitting down next to you. “But look.” He turns around and points at someone you don’t know. “Bruce go ahead and tear off her dress. " 

"Oh, I don't think I should.”

"I'll go," Natasha, the red-haired woman claims and quickly comes toward you. She gives you a direct look before she grabs your dress from the neckline and pushes it down tearing it in the process. You whimper feeling yourself getting immediately wet. Natasha then grips your cotton panties by their cotton lines and forces them off, ripping them apart. The sudden moves and the exposition leaves you startled. 

The sound of your loud moan filled the room and everybody stared at you intently. Tony is now leaning closer to you followed by Steve, Bucky, and Sam. You are vaguely aware of the figures surrounding you. Maria and Clint were sitting together on the other couch. Followed by Thor who is drinking his beer next to Rhodey, a bit further away from all of you. 

“All good, love?" Tony smirks and places his hand on your thigh, immediately forcing your legs apart. His touch always domineered you and he never had any problem with you being ready for him. You knew a touch on your thigh was almost like a button for a pussy reveal as he told you. 

"Had her suck on a glass dildo a while ago because she can't stand having her mouth empty." You look at him feeling both embarrassed and vulnerable sitting with your bare pussy open and wet like that while everyone now is having their attention on you. 

"She doesn't even need instructions, look." Tony quickly shoves his dexter inside your mouth and you quickly suck on it shutting your eyes. You felt eased again, you desperately needed to feel his touch. 

"Can we touch her?" Bucky asked bewilder at the sight. 

"Yah come and see yourself how wet she is." 

“Fuck yeah,” Bucky rushes closer to you, and without any further discussion, he brushes a finger over your pussy. "Shit." 

“No way man.” Sam follows him, coming behind and touching your pussy with two fingers, tracing your lips and the shape. 

"Fucking hell. Look at how she reacts." 

"Isn't it stupid how wet she gets? The more attention you give to her, the more eager she gets. Just ready to exist like a stupid fuck doll." Tony pulls his finger from your mouth making you groan as Sam is scissoring a finger inside you while Bucky is tracing your clit, wet and aching for a touch. 

Soon enough, everybody has a turn sticking a finger or two on you, some on your mouth. Natasha seems a little obsessed with dragging her rings around your tongue. Bucky especially forces your mouth apart to look at how wide it gets asking Tony if he could borrow you sometimes. 

Steve and Sam shove two fingers together trying to see who can get deeper. Always a competition for these boys. Natasha then goes straight to your clit, forcefully playing with it. 

"We got whores like her in Asgard, perfect for battle morale. Every champion deserves one.” Thor stuck two fingers inside and scissored them around till you were groaning almost ready to finish but he stopped right as he saw how badly you were riding his fingers which felt almost as big a dick.

“It’s much more fun when you don’t let cum. She knows her place so she would never dare to try it on her own.” Everybody seemed very pleased with you which made you feel proud, being the perfect pet was all you wanted. But if maybe someone allowed you some more pleasure, you wouldn’t mind. 

"She's such a pathetic little slut. I'm thinking of making her a suit so she can hump it all day long." You whimpered at the thought, a smile forming on your lips as you dreamt about it. 

Then they went back to the conversations leaving you wet, edged, and aching. Tony sometimes left his glass on you and other times his cigars. And soon enough more were encouraged to do so. Thor had you hold on to his full glass of beer and then worked his tongue onto your pussy warning you not to spill a drop which obediently you did. 

You knew you couldn't touch yourself, fuck toys always know their place. Just prayed that someone anyone would want you to. You heard jokes and laughter and everything excited you. Some of the group hadn’t even paid any attention to you. 

You sat and stare as people continued talking sometimes glancing at you, sometimes someone would stick a finger inside you again. You knew your place and you were more than happy to oblige. 

Your pussy was not yours anyway and you knew that. 

A few minutes later Tony finally fingered you until you cum demonstrating to everyone how beautiful you sound when you moan. 

And you couldn’t feel prouder you executed your services so well. 

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on post notifications!

#tony stark #tony stark smut #tony stark x reader #iron man #the avengers #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark fanfiction #iron man smut #avengers smut #iron man x y/n #iron man x reader #iron man x you #avengers fanfiction #tony stark imagine #selenewrites

[longlivefanfic-net]

Rinse, Repeat

Summary: Eddie Munson comes into the diner you work at and asks you for help taking care of his hair. You go to his house and help him deep condition. All fluff/angst (for now)!

Content: Marijuana use, fluff, mention of parent death, Soft!Eddie <3

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Yeah I have been daydreaming about this fic since that man’s dry ass head of hair first came into my life. I love him but dear god,, his life would be changed by the curly girl method. Also: Mommy issues Munson <33 All fluff/angst (barely), smut half to come later!!

Standing with your back pressed against the formica countertop that surrounded the opening into the greasy, diner kitchen, you could feel the smooth metal pressing a chill through your too-thin uniform shirt. The diner was practically empty, only a few regulars sipping coffee at the counter while they read the newspaper or the paperback novels they brought with them. You ran your fingers through your hair, lifting and shaking the limp roots. You desperately needed the night off you were barreling towards at the end of this shift–you couldn’t remember when the last time you had actually washed your hair was, the polish on your nails was chipped, and you had spotted a small breakout in the mirror this morning that you wanted to treat before it had time to swell. You had also noticed how haggard your eyes looked; the purple splotches under your eyes nearly looked like bruises and the lines around your eyes ran deep. “Come on,” the other waitress on your shift, Jenny, said. “Come out with us tonight!” Some rich, washed-up jock who had graduated from Hawkins five years ago was having a party tonight, and Jenny desperately wanted backup with her at the party. You knew, however, that going to parties with Jenny always resulted in you either getting left talking to some guy’s creepy friend or holding her hair back while she puked. “Nuh-uh,” you said. “No way. I’m spending tonight actually getting some rest. Like you’re supposed to do on your time off?” Jenny laughed at that, and launched into her favorite lecture for you–you’re only young once, everyone dies, don’t you want to tell your grandkids about how fun you used to be, etc., etc.. 

The bell over the door chimed, tinny, as it swung open, but you kept your back to the door and whoever walked in. The watery morning sunlight coming in through the glass windows of the diner this morning had the same impact on your eyes as if you were severely hung over, and you were avoiding it at all costs. Jenny watched the new customer walk in, her eyes tracking them with a slight grimace turning the corner of her mouth down. “Yeah,” she said, cutting herself off. “You’re taking this one.” She shoved a notepad into your hands and then turned away, picking up a coffee pot with an orange handle to refill the mugs lined down the counter. The sigh that broke out of your mouth was only a little louder than socially acceptable as you turned around, looking for the outline of a new person against the harsh gleam of sunlight bouncing off of the chrome napkin dispensers and tops of sugar shakers. In the far corner, where the light was weakest, sat Eddie Munson. Your heart thumped, slightly, against your ribs as he looked up at you from across the room. He smiled, his lips pressed together, and you ran a quick hand over your shirt, attempting to smooth out any wrinkles before you walked over to his booth. “Hey Eddie,” you said, voice light. 

You had met Eddie Munson in high school years ago. You were warned against him almost immediately–he was a freak, everyone said, and he smoked weed and probably had other stuff, hard stuff like what people get arrested for and your mom would cry about. You had heard your friends bring his name up too many times, always punctuating it with shrill laughs, but you could never convince yourself to laugh at their jokes: you didn’t know Eddie that well, but he had always been almost overly polite in the few conversations the two of you had had, and you saw the way he was with his Hellfire kids: how he teased them and then made them smile like he was their big brother. Sure, he wore a lot of black and chains, and you had only heard of most of the band names on his denim vest when your mom was watching a TV special about the rise of Satanic cults in America, but you just couldn’t wrap your mind around the idea of Eddie Munson being anything less than…well, than a nice guy. 

You were thinking about this as you walked up to Eddie’s booth of choice. He came into the diner every now and then–usually early in the morning or late at night, and he always tipped well and made polite conversation with you. The other girls avoided his table, as if bringing him a plate of pancakes with a side of fries would infect them. As a result, you had become very familiar with his routines: early mornings (like this one) were usually accompanied by coffee, no cream, and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. Then, he would sit on the hood of his van in the parking lot, smoking, before getting in and driving away. “Usual this morning?” You asked as you approached him, pen already on your notepad. “Good morning,” Eddie said, smiling at you with a soft head shake, like he was clearing his brain. “You look particularly chipper this morning.” You laughed, though you weren’t sure if the joke was Eddie’s sarcasm or how awful you knew you looked. “I know what I look like right now, Eddie,  and it’s not chipper.” “Well,” Eddie said, jerking his head slightly to the side, “It’s not like I can say ‘Hey, you look like shit today.’” You laughed again, a slight blush stealing up your cheeks. “Don’t worry,” you say, a slight smile on your lips still. “I’ll look better the next time you come in.” “Well, if that’s a promise, I’ll go ahead and take my usual for today and make plans to come back tomorrow.” He winked at you, handing you the laminated, oversized menu as he did. You would have blushed, but, frankly, this was just how Eddie talked to girls—even the ones who barely looked at him. 

You came back with a mug and a pot of coffee after putting in his order at the window, and you set the mug at the end of the table, sliding it across the smooth tabletop to him. His hands reach out, wrapping silver-clad, guitar-string-calloused fingers around the cup as you fill it, and you can’t help but think about how this image almost looks like a still life painting–Coffee With Freaks, you think to yourself, emphasizing the s as you count yourself. You turn on your heel, intending to walk back to the counter where Jenny is glaring at the two of you, but Eddie stops you. “So,” he says, eyes on his coffee as he pours an absurd amount of sugar into the cup, “Doing anything fun tonight?” You look back at Jenny over your shoulder, and her eyebrows are raised at you in horror. “Not really,” you say, turning back to where Eddie has shifted his face to look up at you. “Jenny invited me to a party, but I think I’m going to take a night off.” “Oh,” Eddie says, more a grunt than a word. “And what does a girl like you do on a night off?” You smile slightly, unsure how close exactly the conversation is coming to flirting. “Rent a movie, paint my nails, wash my hair. You know,” you say, shrugging. “Girl stuff.” “Girl stuff,” Eddie says, nodding. His order is called, and you go back behind the counter, avoiding Jenny’s wide eyes as you grab the warm plate and bring it back to Eddie’s table. 

“So is ‘girl stuff’ the reason your hair usually looks so good?” Eddie says when you set his plate down in front of him. You feel a slight flush run up your neck at the implication that he notices your hair (as well as the subtle mention of how you look right now). “I guess,” you say, noncommittally. Eddie gestures to the empty seat across from him with his fork. “Sit,” he grunts, “Tell me about this girl stuff.” You look around the diner. Jenny is distracted, cashing out one of the men who has finally finished his cup of coffee, and there are barely enough people in the building to necessitate you and Jenny both being there. You slide into the seat quickly, watching Eddie reach for tabasco to sprinkle over his eggs. Your heart is squeezing, turning in on itself inside your chest as you watch him replace the bottle at the end of the table and look up at you, grinning. This feels…taboo. Sitting with Eddie Munson, talking to him about what, exactly? Your hair care routine? If any of the girls you and Jenny go to parties with walked in right now, you’re pretty sure you would never live this down–but something in you refuses to let your common sense move your legs to standing and walk away. Mouth full, Eddie gestures to you and then to his plate, sliding the edge with bacon closer to you. Oh, what the hell, you think. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

You reach out, snagging the toast off the corner of the plate instead and take a small bite, chewing it slowly. Eddie grins at you, his cheeks bulging around his tightly closed mouth. He swallows, your eyes following the movement of his throat, and speaks: “Honestly, I want your advice on my hair,” he says, his face totally serious. “I’m pretty sure those commercials about ‘dry hair’ were just talking about me.” You laugh at this, a small giggle that makes the corners of your mouth turn up, and he tilts his chin back slightly as he smiles back at you. “How do you get those luscious locks of yours?” He says, gesturing his empty fork towards you before stabbing up another clump of red-splattered eggs. You shrug again, noticing that you seem to shrug a lot around Eddie, and say, “For you, Munson, I would start with a full conditioner treatment.” You lean forward, crossing your arms on the table. “I’m talking the works–conditioner, shower cap, and rinse before we even get into the shampoo stage, and then a shorter round of conditioner.” “Mm-hm,” he murmurs behind his full mouth before swallowing. “And where does someone get this kind of shit? Is there some sort of brightly lit store where Hawkins mommies will turn their kiddies eyes away from me as I pick up these lovely products?” Eddie always does that–makes jokes about the way people think about him, about how they treat him. Either he really, genuinely doesn’t care, or he’s better at pretending than you are. You bite your lip, barely, but his eyes flick down to your mouth at the slight movement before coming back up to yours. What the hell, you think again. “I have all the stuff, actually,” you say, “So I could just bring it over to your place.” 

Eddie sits back against the booth seat, beaming softly, his mouth puckered into a smile. “Really? On your night off?” “I was going to do my hair tonight anyway,” you say, “It wouldn’t be too hard to help you with…all of that, too.” You gesture vaguely to his head of wild, dark curls, and Eddie blushes this time (and, you can’t help but notice, the slight pink stain dancing over his cheekbones only makes him look gentle, softer). “Alright,” he says, bobbing his head, “You can come to my trailer when you get off tonight.” 

*****

Your fist comes up to rap against the metal door and lowers before making contact–again. You had finished your shift thirty minutes earlier, driving home at speeds that would have Hawkins PD concerned if they were ever actually patrolling, and changed out of your uniform before tossing all of your hair products into a bag. Peeling out of your driveway, you had punched the gas pedal nearly to the floor–but as you got closer to the trailer park, your car slowed, your foot easing off the gas of it’s own will. Parking in front of the trailer Eddie had described to you, you had chewed on your bottom lip aggressively. How stupid did it make you if you went through with this? Jenny had already been scandalized when Eddie left, nodding his head to you and quietly saying that he would see you tonight. You knew that, right now, Jenny and all of your other friends were probably shrieking with laughter, making up obscene rumors about what you and “the freak” were doing–or, equally likely, they were already too drunk to remember you weren’t at the party with them. You had screwed up your courage and gotten out of the car, barely remembering your bag of hair products in the passenger seat, and marched right up to Eddie’s door…where you had stood for the last five minutes. Every time you picked up your hand to knock, this overwhelming wave of fear would wash over you–you couldn’t go through with it. Maybe you should just go back to the car; Munson had probably already forgotten his invitation to you, and you could go home and do your beauty routine as planned: alone. Just as you had finally decided to leave, the door opened with a low screech of hinges to reveal a warm, softly glowing interior partially blocked by a silhouette. “Hey!” Eddie crowed. “I thought I heard a car but then no one knocked–you get lost?” He looked at you, eyes slightly crinkling at the edges, and you knew he was giving you an excuse for why he had caught you with your back turned to his front door. 

“Actually,” you said, tensing your jaw. “I was about to go home.” Eddie’s face falls slightly before a careful guard comes over it. “Ah.” “See,” you say, breath a little shaky as the words rush out, “I’m just not sure we can save your hair. I mean, it’s really a desperate case, Munson–but I do think it’s my responsibility to give it a try.” You smile slightly, trying to show him that you’re teasing, and he smiles back. Suddenly, he steps back, throwing an arm out to the side as he bends slightly at the waist to indicate that you should come in. You do, brushing his torso with the side of your arm as you cross the threshold. Hopefully he didn’t notice the goosebumps that immediately raced over your skin at the contact. You set your bag down, turning in a slow circle as you examine the room. The soft light is coming from multiple lamps around the space, and the room appears to be decorated in shades of brown. The living room is lined with a collection of men’s caps, and a shelf over the drawn curtains has a variety of mugs. You walk over to them, peering closely. “Garfield?” You say, pointing to one near the end. “My uncle’s,” Eddie says, coloring slightly as one of his hands reaches up behind him to fidget with his hair. When you smile, Eddie continues, explaining, “It’s a one bedroom. He sleeps out here and I have the bedroom.” “That’s nice,” you say, nodding your head a little as you turn to look at him. You really examine Eddie: in this soft, warm light he glows slightly, and his features look more gentle than usual, almost like how he looks when he claps one of his Hellfire kids on the back. He’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt, the sleeves pushed up over his forearms, and your eyes linger on the edges of his tattoos before sliding down, noting the chain on his jeans and his bare feet. You continue to turn around the room, taking in every inch of the interior. For the town freak’s house, it all seems overwhelmingly…normal. 

“So,” Eddie says, clearing his throat to dispel the silence. “How do we do this hair stuff? What do you need from me?” He’s got his hands in his pockets, and something about the way he’s standing makes him look almost embarrassed. “Not much,” you say. “I brought pretty much everything we need with me, so we really just need a place to hang out for a while–oh! Where’s your kitchen?” Eddie looks at you, the skin between his eyebrows wrinkling as he points behind you. You turn, walking towards the darker room. Inside, flicking the light switch to turn on the soft, yellow glow, you look around. The kitchen is small but there’s a countertop going from one wall to the other, the sink set in the far right corner. The cabinets over the counter don’t leave much space, but that won’t be much of a problem. You turn back to the living room, surprised to find Eddie standing directly behind you. His hands come up instantly, resting directly over your shoulders and keeping you from bumping into him. “Oh!” You exhale. “Sorry. Um, this is fine. So where should we go to hang out?” 

Eddie leads you down the only hallway to his bedroom, your bag in his hand. “My uncle won’t be home until morning,” he says over his shoulder, “but I try to make his space his own, you know?” “Yeah,” you say, although you don’t, not really. Still, it’s nice that Eddie does that–actually, the way he looks every time he talks about his uncle is nice. It’s clear that Eddie loves his uncle, and you can’t help but think how surprisingly sweet he actually is under the tough persona he puts on for the people of Hawkins. You walk into his room and your feet immediately come to a stop as you take in the room around you. “Wow, Munson,” you say. Eddie stands to the side, running his free hand up the side of his neck to fist at his pulse, letting you look your fill. The walls are covered: posters, mostly from his metal bands as best as you can tell; art, some of which looks like hand drawn illustrations of, what you assume are, dungeons and dragons characters; even a pair of handcuffs hanging on the wall, like some trophy for his supposed run-ins with the police department (or, you think, blushing slightly, maybe he keeps them there for easy access). The window has a sheet stapled over it for a curtain, and it falls lightly over a large amp that you assume is used for the red guitar hanging over the mirror. Every surface in the room is cramped, on the verge of overflowing and spilling out oversized books, loose guitar picks, change, and little balls that, when you pick one up to examine, you realize are dice with too many sides. You set the die down, noticing a large box of cassettes on the floor next to a boombox with a tape deck. Actually–you look around the room again–there are cassettes on almost every surface. His nightstand, his dresser, his amp all have at least one cassette box on them, and the box on the floor is filled to the brim as well. 

You turn to him. “You really like music, huh?” You ask, eyebrows high and a slight smile playing on your lips as you pick up the cassette box closest to you. Eddie’s cheeks turn slightly pink as his hand slips down his neck to hide back in his pocket. “Yeah,” he says, looking around the room at the many cassettes he has scattered around. “I get a lot of them at garage sales. I buy some of them–I, uh,” he says, blushing again as he pointedly looks away from you, “I definitely stole a few here and there. And I made my own mixtapes, obviously.” Your eyebrows lift again as he looks at you. “So the rumors are true,” you say. Eddie’s face falls immediately, and his mouth hardens into a thin line. “What rumors?” “Relax, Munson,” you say, bringing your hands up. “I just meant that you’re a bad boy.” At this, Eddie laughs, harsh and loud. “A bad boy,” he says nodding, “I like that.” You cross the narrow space between the two of you, taking your bag out of his hand. “How about you pick an album to play for me while I do your hair?” You ask, and Eddie’s face is radiant. Somehow, you’ve managed to say the exact thing that could mean the most to him, and he genuinely seems to almost glow with excitement. “What kind of music do you like?” He asks. “I don’t really listen to a lot of music,” you say, lifting your shoulders noncommittally. “Just whatever comes on the radio at work.” “Ugh,” Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “The stuff you guys play in the diner is terrible. I mean, Jesus H. Christ, we get it, Madonna exists. That doesn’t mean I want to listen to her all the time!” You laugh, slightly shocked at hearing Eddie Munson even say the name Madonna. “I’ve got the perfect album for you,” Eddie says, holding up a cassette with dark blue streaks of what you think are lightning over the cover. “Metallica. Now, this is music,” he says, popping the cassette into the tape deck. 

He presses play, turning the volume down considerably. The gentle strains of guitar are joined by drums and quickly turn to a much more aggressive sound as you set your bag down on Eddie’s bed and begin to rifle through it, looking through the products you brought. You notice that Eddie’s bed is well made and suspiciously clean compared to the rest of the room, but you push the idea of him changing his sheets before you came over out of your head. “Come sit down,” you say, pulling out a bottle of conditioner, a comb, and a scrunchie. Eddie does as he’s ordered, sitting next to where you’re standing. He picks up the bottle you’re about to open and examines it. “Is this that shit Brooke Shields uses?” He asks, obviously skeptical. You can’t stop yourself from laughing, shaking your head with a smile, and he angles his head slightly towards you, watching you. “How often do you wash your hair?” You ask him. Looking scandalized, Eddie replies “Every day. I’m not gross.” You shake your head again, rolling your eyes slightly this time. “That’s half of your problem at least,” you say. “But at least it’s clean to start with right now.” You move, coming to stand in between Eddie’s legs, and reach your hand out towards Eddie’s hair, stopping before you touch him. Your hand hovers over his mass of black waves and you look down at his face. “Is it…okay?” You ask. “For me to touch you?” You think you see a slight flush steal up his neck, but he nods all the same. You allow your fingers to rest gently on his head before digging them in, quickly combing your hands through his hair. It is dry, but it’s also long, and brushing your fingers through it has worked up a scent of soap and a little bit of tobacco smoke. “Well?” He asks from below you. “Is it salvageable?” You laugh, looking down at him. Suddenly, you realize his face is almost completely level with your chest and the slight shock makes your ribs expand with a stifled gasp. Seeing this movement, Eddie looks up at you suddenly–the two of you make eye contact and flush at the exact same time, bright red staining both of your cheeks as you quickly look away. 

“I think we can save your hair,” you say, clearing your throat slightly. You start applying conditioner to his dark locks, working it well and truly into the roots before combing it all the way down to the ends. The feel of the smooth cream slides between your fingers, and you think you hear him hum slightly more than once, though you’re unsure whether it’s along to the music or in happiness. It’s nice, surprisingly, to work your fingers through his hair. When you’ve applied it thoroughly, making his dark locks hang in clumps, you slide his hair back up until you’ve brought it all together at the back of his skull. Leaning across Eddie’s torso, you grab your scrunchie off the bed and use it to tie his hair up in place. “There,” you say. “Now what?” He asks, tilting his head up to look at you. He looks cute like this, you think, the thought unbidden. “Um, now I’m going to wash my hands,” you say, holding up your conditioner-covered hands. “And then we’ll let it sit for a while.” Eddie points you to the bathroom, and you take a moment in the cramped space to stare at your reflection in the mirror. It’s okay to be friends with the freak, you think, but you’re not going to have a crush on him. It’s Eddie fucking Munson! 

You come back from the bathroom right as the tape player clicks over to a new song. “Oh, you’ve got to listen to this one,” Eddie says. He grabs your hand as you approach the bed, tugging you down to sit next to him as the music plays. Even with the volume turned down, it seems to fill the small space, pushing the two of you closer. A bell chimes out, quickly accompanied by a guitar and drums. The beat is immediately addictive and you can’t stop your head from nodding ever so slightly in time to it. When the guitar changes, Eddie turns to look at you. He’s smiling, his eyes hopeful, and when you smile back at him his grin grows wider. By the time the singer joins in, you’ve already decided to like the song if only because of how happy it makes Eddie. “Hold on,” Eddie says. “Just–trust me on this.” You look at him, your eyebrows sliding together in confusion just before he places his hands on your shoulders–and shoves you backwards onto the bed. Your body hits the mattress, and you stare at the ceiling in shock. A thumping sound and a soft bounce next to you tells you that Eddie has laid down too, dangling his head over the other side of the mattress. “Some music is just meant to be listened to while you’re laying down,” he says softly. The rest of the song plays, and you have to agree with him–some songs are meant to be listened to laying down. 

You spend the next thirty minutes staring at Munson’s ceiling, listening to Metallica. He sits up after a minute and asks if it’s okay with you if he smokes. “It’s your room, Munson,” you say, still on your back. “Yeah, princess, but what I’m going to light might make you feel a little lightheaded.” “Really?” You ask, sitting up. “Are you smoking pot?” Munson nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah,” you say, laying back down. “Go ahead and light up.” The smell was actually familiar to you–you had smelled it in the high school parking lot more than enough times, and it almost smelled good to you here, in the tight confines of Eddie’s bedroom. You found your eyes drifting softly closed after a few minutes, either a result of the exhaustion from your long week or the weed. “Hey,” Eddie said, quietly. “You okay?” “Just enjoying your music, Munson,” you muttered back, keeping your eyes just barely open. The tape clicked and you heard Eddie stand up, pop the tape deck open, flip the tape, and replace it before the music started again. When you felt the mattress bounce under your body, you knew Eddie had come to sit beside you again. Somehow it didn’t surprise you when you felt his fingers, calloused and cool to the touch, slide over the palm of your hand closest to him and wrap around your own. The two of you sat there like that–you on your back, eyelids heavy, Eddie sitting next to you, stroking long circles over the back of your hand with his thumb–until the tape came to it’s final conclusion. 

“Well,” Eddie said as you sat up, looking at you expectantly. “What did you think?” “It was…kind of incredible, Eddie.” He grinned at you, tucking his chin slightly as he angled his head. “Kind of incredible? Kind of? It’s fucking Metallica,” he laughed softly, rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine,” you say, “Really incredible. Now, can we go rinse your hair in the kitchen?” “Oh,” Eddie says, hand reaching up to the slick bun on the back of his head. The tattoos on his forearm flicker with the movement of muscle, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out a hand to place over the art. Eddie freezes at your touch, his entire body stiffening until you pull all but your index finger back, tracing the black lines of the artwork on his arm. You bite your lip, just barely, and turn your eyes up to look at him. He’s staring at your fingers, watching your hand move over his skin and summon goosebumps to the surface of his delicate skin. When he looks at you, you drop your hand back to your side and stare at him for one, two seconds longer than you should. He stands up suddenly, almost startling you with how quick his movements are. “Rinse,” he says, and he extends a hand to you that you grip tightly as you regain your feet. You expect him to let go of your hand as soon as you’re standing, but instead he begins to walk down the hallway, pulling your wrist slightly as you trail behind him. He looks…beautiful, you think as you follow him down the hallway. The knot of hair on the back of his head, the chain glinting in the yellow lamp light across his hips, the rumpled shirt, even the casualness of his bare feet, all come together to paint a version of this man you had never considered before. A version that’s more than Eddie Munson, town freak, weed dealer, D&D player; a version that’s Eddie Munson, who loves his uncle, is always listening to music, and, maybe, can be gentler than you had ever dreamed. 

In the kitchen, Eddie turns to you expectantly. “Okay,” he says, clapping his hands together. The noise startles you out of your reverie, breaking your eyes away from his body for the first time in a while. “Now what?” “On the cabinet, Munson,” you say, pointing to the long shelf formed by the countertop against the wall. His brows draw down in confusion as a half grimace twists his lips. “Excuse me, princess?” You walk over to the sink, patting the countertop next to it with two heavy slaps. “Up. Sit here.” Eddie comes over and turns around, putting his hands behind him on the counter as he jumps slightly, shifting his hips back in the same moment to perch on the surprisingly clean cabinets. “Lay down,” you say, “And put your head over the sink.” Eddie looks at you for a moment as he pulls your scrunchie out of his hair and slides it over his wrist, the hint of a smile playing at his mouth when he does as you command. Once he’s laying on his back, his round, wide eyes looking up at you, you turn on the water, slowly warming it up away from his face. You reach over Eddie, unfortunately aware of how close your torso is to his face in this position, and grab the small hose connected to the faucet. Testing the water temperature on your wrist, you find it satisfactory and start to gently rinse out his hair. The thick locks grow heavy with the weight of the water, and they feel smooth and slick under your fingers. One hand maneuvers the spray over his hair while the other supports his neck, occasionally scratching your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “Where did you learn to do this kind of stuff?” Eddie asks. You look at his face, and he’s watching you carefully, a sort of reverence on his face. “My mom used to do this for me,” you say, softly. “When I was a kid.” “Oh,” Eddie says, turning his eyes to the ceiling. “That explains why I’ve never done it, I guess.” 

You don’t say anything. You don’t know much about Eddie’s parents, except that they’re not around. You turn the heat up slightly on the water, focusing on rinsing the conditioner down into the sink. “She died,” Eddie says, casually, and you feel your hands still for a moment. In the silence, you look at his face. He’s still looking straight up, eyes on the ceiling, but he looks serious now. “It wouldn’t have made a lot of difference,” he says, “if she had lived. Munson’s have never been the good guys in this town. But I do kind of wish she had been around. To take care of me instead of my uncle.” He sighs, his breath coming out in a heavy stream. “It would have been nice, I think, to have someone teach me this kind of stuff.” His eyes come back to yours, a slight smile on his mouth. “This girl stuff.” You smile back at him, and your fingers scratch in the base of his scalp as you resume the water flow. He closes his eyes and lets out a sound that’s almost like purring. “God,” he hums, “that feels incredible.” You chuckle slightly, and he opens his eyes to look at you.“So this is something moms do?” he asks. You laugh, tilting your head back. “Are you implying that you see me as a mother figure, Munson?” “No! God no! Well, I mean, you could be a mom if you wanted–” You laugh, loudly, temporarily relieving the pressure on the handle of the hose so you don’t spray water directly into his face as he awkwardly dances around his own word choice. 

When you regain your breath and stop laughing you resume spraying, pretending not to notice his overserious focus on the ceiling and the patches of red on his cheeks as you brush your fingers across the edges of his temple, working the conditioner out of his roots. “It’s just something people do for the people they care about,” you say, intent on his hair as you answer his earlier question. “So you care about me?” Your eyes jump to his, your hand releasing the clamp on the hose immediately. He’s gazing up at you from the sink, eyes wide and warm brown, and you can feel the stillness of his body in your hands as you continue to support his head and neck. There’s a slight flicker of muscle along his jaw, the only sign that he’s waiting for you to answer him in the silence that sits between the two of you now. “I want to do this for you, Eddie,” you say, and it hits you in that moment how true that sentence is. His brows scrunch together slightly as the skin around his eyes crease. “Is that a yes?” You lean down, slowly, hand still in his sopping wet hair supporting his neck. Gently, nervously, you brush your lips across his mouth, the muscle in his jaw releasing as his mouth falls open just slightly. “Yes,” you say quietly, pulling back. His eyes are, somehow, even wider when he opens them, his lips somehow rosier as he looks at you. “Can I sit up yet?” He asks, voice low. You wrap your hands around his hair, squeezing tightly to wring as much water as possible out of his locks, and grab his hands, helping to pull him to sitting. He swings his legs down, immediately settling a leg on either side of your body as he yanks your hands, bringing your body crashing into his. The thump of his head hitting the cabinet behind him is loud, and you wince for him as he laughs. “Are you okay?” You ask, turning your face up to his. “Never better,” he says, tucking his chin as he leans down to kiss you. 

#soft!eddie munson #eddie munson #stranger things #my fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fic #feral fics #eddie munson stranger things #Eddie munson #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/you #eddie x reader #eddie my love #soft!eddie #soft eddie munson

[80s4life]

Johnny Lawrence With An Egocentric Reader Headcanon

Word Count: 666 (oh shit, we’re summoning a devil)

Status: Requested!

Ask: im sorry that youre going through hard times ;( idk if its easier for you to write headcanons or drabbles but do what makes you feel comfortable. also, didnt ask you if you write for johnny lawrence, but if thats not the im sorry to bother! i wanted to ask you some hc or drabble, its same for me, of johnny x egocentric reader? sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, english is not my native language

@: a cute bilingual anon! (so talented by the way, I have trouble speaking any other language)

Fandom: Karate Kid Series - Cobra Kai

Relationship: Johnny Lawrence x Egocentric!Reader

Warnings: strong language, fluff

Key: All of Johnny’s words are bolded, while Reader’s is left in italics!

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist Cobra Kai Masterlist

{gifs are not mine, credits go to @kyrixxx​ & @filmgifs​ & @ewan-mcgregor​}

So hot, I’m frothing at the mouth

Young Johnny Lawrence:

You met at school, well, he saw you at school, you were too busy fighting the girls and their normal antics.

You were playing soccer with others while Johnny was too busy trying to catch the eyes of various other females as he stripped his shirt.

He tried to find every chance to get to you, and it wasn’t until he purposely slammed right into you with the claim of not seeing you while going to catch a football, did he finally accomplish his goal.

Knocking you to the ground, you easily got pissed and to his dismay, called him out on his bullshit:

“You did that on purpose, you Ass!”

“I didn’t do anything! It was a simple mistake, here let me help you up?”

“No, I got it myself, and stay the hell out of my way!”

From that day on, he was hooked. He didn’t know if it was your dominance and strength or your cutting edge demeanor; either way, he wanted you. BAD.

It was his duty to keep up on this game of cat and mouse, and each time, the blame was pinned on him (rightfully so) and turned away.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Go torture someone else who’s more into you.”

“Leave me alone!”

It didn’t seem to matter what you did, he would always come back with these huge puppy dog eyes and a grin that could cut glass.

Maybe that’s what made you start to give into his charms?

When you finally allow him into your life, take you on dates and such, he often tries to pester you just to get you fired up. He thinks it’s hot, you think it’s utterly annoying and misleading.

“You’re trying too hard, Lawrence.”

“You’re pushing on the line of clingy.”

“Can I take a breather?”

Either way, you guys soon find a dynamic. Although you may seem self-centered and cruel to most, Johnny knows it’s just a perk that comes with the territory.

Whether this behavior was learned at home or by the way the world works, Johnny loves it and basically basks in it. It makes you tough, and like Sensei Kreese taught him, that’s what you need to survive; a skill Johnny has yet to master.

Older Johnny Lawrence:

As Johnny had aged, he learned the skill of having to fend for one’s self before tending to anyone else. This asset had instantly peaked his interest upon meeting you.

You, getting the job rather easily, tended to the children in the Cobra Kai dojo when class was in session, helping to guide and help instruct every motion the senseis provided.

Like younger Johnny, older version of him also found this very endearing and headstrong, allowing him to feel safe and comfortable around you, knowing you could handle yourself in most situations.

Yes, being egocentric is very selfish or self-regarding, but it works in his world. In a world where John Kreese and Terry Silver reside in, hell, even Daniel Larusso.

However, catch Johnny on a bad day, and that’s his favorite topic to target:

“You always so damn full of yourself?”

“Only when it means warding off self-centered pricks like you. You have stereotypes written all over your forehead!”

“You’re one to talk!”

“Like you have much to say in defense?”

In light of the topic, you’re both egocentric but don’t like to admit it (much to our dismay)

Besides your personalities constantly crashing, they also mesh well, having similar attributes that make you work.

ESPECIALLY when it comes to going head-to-head with Kreese and Silver. 

Johnny loves to step back and watch you fire on them, knowing that in the end, you’re seeking comfort for yourself of all things. You don’t let them corrupt you, which keeps making them come back, but Johnny knows where you stand. 

You’re loyal, and he couldn’t ask for anything better than a Bad Bitch like you.

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence imagine #william zabka #william zabka x reader #william zabka imagine #billy zabka #billy zabka x reader #billy zabka imagine #billy zabka headcanon #william zabka headcanon #johnny lawrence headcanon #ralph machio #daniel larusso #danny larusso #john kreese #martin kove #thomas ian griffith #tig #terry silver

[fantasyqueen502]

Kiss of Life

Author's note: A scenario I thought up of our favorite pilot and my OC Kit. I had a lot of fun writing it. May make it a series out of this drabble. I don't know.

Rated: PG-13

The war was over.

Every member big and small of the rebel alliance was awarded with medals of valor in a grand ball. 

“Great speech General.” Finn laughs shoving his bestfriend’s arm mid sip causing him to dribble down his chin. “Grade A General Dameron.” 

He glares, but the smile couldn’t help, but make an appearance.

“Children. I’m cursed to play mother.” Ray states scolding and joking, but mostly scolding at the two full grown man. 

“I don’t know?” Finn wonders sauntering around her. She stifles a shriek as he snatches her waist holding her close. “We can play later, mommy.” he smiles, speaking lowly making Ray snicker, but punching his chest. Not full strength, but enough to get her message across. 

“My ears, my ears are bleeding!” Poe shouts dramatically covering his ears “La, la, la, la, naughty talk, Poe no like naughty talk.” he continues in a childlike voice. 

“You’re one to talk.” Finn counters. 

“Yes, talk. I talk nicely and gently for I am always a gentleman.” he states purring over the words gentle and gentleman. 

“ Po---I mean General Dameron, sir?” the address sounded more like a question of a statement unsure of the proper title in a social gathering. 

The trio turn towards the voice Poe the last to do so turning his head to peek over his shoulder at a Felis, an endangered species 200 recorded in the entire galaxy thanks to the First Order through genicide and or enslavement. Red orange eyes and healing cut along her widows peak. 

“BB, alert medical!” He instructs hopping a quarter of the way on one leg loosing the laces on his right boot swiping and doing the same to his left. Kicking them off leaping into the water towards a sinking X-wing. Routine evasive maneuvers.

Bad things seem to happen to the veterans outside of battle and war.

Through the merky blue pressing his palm to the wind screen finding the entire left window broken. He flinches feeling something trace his jaw gaping it recognizing the orange of the flight suit and four fingered hand. Following the arm finding her body still buckled in. Bubbles erupted from his mouth, swallowing the urge to inhale.

Breaking the surface grunting to lift her head above water. Mohawk of fire red hair mopped over her face he almost looked over the obvious open wound on her widows peak lines of blood with her black markings he wasn’t sure were from birth or ink. Pulling her body onto shore. Gasping for breath he goes into rescue mode. Feeling for a pulse snapping her fingers in her ears not seeing them flinch. 

He begins chest compressions pinching her nose giving three breaths going back to chest compressions. After four, five rounds her body spasms spitting up pond water. He helps her up by patting her back as she breathed. 

“Cadet Kit” he nods.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude, Miss Ray, Mr. Finn.'' she bows her head in respect. She stood pencil straight dawning a deep v cut neckline black dress that changes hues to red in certain lights. Duel tails flicked from side to side. 

“Don’t be.” Rey waves off giving a gentle smile. “We’ll catch up later, Poe.” she excused, taking an unsuspecting Finn by the arm. 

“General Dam---”

“No need for formalities, Kit. Come have a drink.” he gestures to the empty seats at his sides.

She sighs taking a seat smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress reaching back to preen her impressive mohawk that ran down her spine mid back for all to see thanks to the open back dress. 

The bartender approached. 

“Ummm…” red orange eyes darting over the wall of bottles. “...just a star lyte.” She orders meekly. Shortly a tall glass of bubbly starting from yellow to a clear. 

“Is everything alright since…” he trails off not wanting to tear out wounds, but genuinely wanting to know a cadet under his watch is ‘well’. 

 

“No.” She assures. “I mean yes…everything is fine. I've been evaluated and tested and given the green light to return to work.” 

“I'm waiting for a but.” Poe speaks his mind. 

“I don't want anything from you, I'm not blaming or-or pressuring you, because you didn't know, I mean how could you know.” she rattles off sporadically. 

“Kit, Kit, Kit.” He calls. Catching one of her flailing arms. She’s breathing hard guiding her hand to the bar tenderly rubbing his thumb along her hand. 

“I'm pregnant.” She sighs. 

“Congratulations?” He trails off in confusion from such a display having any connection to him. 

“It's yours.” She quickly adds ears drawn back anticipating an outburst. 

“You're joking.” He laughs

“No.” 

“You are.” 

“No.” 

“We've never…” he gulps deep in thought going through his list of intimate partners over the past few months. “...we never…” he states, but isn’t even unsure of himself. 

“No, we've never…did that, but that's not required for me.” 

“How then…” 

“When…when you kissed me---I know it wasn't a kiss.” She cuts in. “But that is how my…” she wills herself to continue. “That is how my kind conceives.” She states as if the very words pained her. “Any form of dna substance in organisms.” 

Poe stares at her. Unblinking brows furrowed she could hear the gears in his mind working overtime. When his unblinking stare became unbearable she opens her mouth, but he turns he head breathing in deeply covering his face with his hands. 

“I've already filed a request a transfer so you don't have to---” 

“Wait transfer. Wait---stop, stop, stop..” he shakes his head turning his body toward her. “...why would I want you to transfer?” 

“It's unprofessional and irresponsible to continue working together…” 

“Says who?” He asks. 

She scolds a ping of warmth in her heart at his rebellious ‘fuck the rules attitude’.

“You are my superior. Any promotion or demotion will be scrutinized.”  

“I would never---”

“I know.” she coos. “But on the outside what will it look like?” She reasons. 

“I assume you're keeping…” he could finish his thought. 

He? She? It? Them? Everything was just moving so fast. 

She nods. “You don't have to feel obligated, I'm fully prepared to do all of this on my own.” 

“I want to be a part of this. My mom would haunt me and beat me senseless if I didn't man up and take some responsibility.” 

She laughs at that. 

“Did you get a scan or is that---is it too early.” he asks. 

“Can't really tell anything yet. Just that little colo is there.” 

Scooting closer touching shoulders. Tapping her wrist band, projecting an image on the bar top. 

“Colo?” He recites. 

“It's stupid. It's just…looks like little Colo claw fish egg.” 

Taping the still image plays. A small blob in a sea of static. Rotating it to show small darker spots within flickering rhythmically. 

A heartbeat. 

#poe dameron #star wars #disney starwars #oscar isaac #poe dameron x female oc #oc #poe dameron x pregnant oc #drabble #rey x finn

[effervescentdragon]

Russingon drabble inspired by this post by @herinke9 :) below the cut because it got long

I started writing this on my phone some 5 hours ago and in the meantime I've peeled 2kgs of peaches, ate, sat through 3 coffees, helped organize a whole seating list for a 400 invited ppl for a wedding, showered, and washed some 30 or so dishes, not necessarily in that order. So forgive me any mistakes :)

CW: references to past torture, maybe mild body-horror just to be sure but imnsho not really, implied sexual content

-

"I know what you're doing, you know."

Nelyafinwë's face is even more terrifying in the shadows of the night, illuminated only by the light of Elbereth. The wounds on his hröa have healed as much as they could have, but the white criss-crossed lines shining unnaturally bright from the whole of his mien. Finno yearns to touch them, trace them with his fingers and lips. Finno thinks them beautiful, always, but he knows others see not what he sees. They never do, never did, and he cannot stop the flutter of his heart at knowing he is the only one who is ever allowed into the inner workings of Nelyo's mind. Others always see only what Maitimo shows them; nothing more, nothing less.

"Indeed?"

Maitimo's voice is raspy and harsh even on that one sound he makes. His vocal chords were torn to shreds once, and Finno will never forget, not the words, not the sounds he'd made on Thangorodrim when Finno found him. They have recovered too, Nelyo got his voice back as much as possible, but the sharp way vowels now roll off of his talented tongue adds a dimension of danger underneath the clever, diplomatic words he speaks in Court.

"Indeed," Finno allows, for he does know what Maitimo is doing. "I do not think anyone else has noticed," he says, then tilts his head. "Aunt Lalwendë, perhaps."

Maitimo hums, a terrible, dissonant sound that still manages to make Finno shiver, then takes a sip of wine.

"She always was atya's favorite. He always said she was born to be in Court."

Finno concedes the point, distracted by the quality of Nelyo's voice. It cuts and slays in a shadowy way, and Finno is annoyed with himself for not having the words to explain, to desribe Maitimo properly. His fingers itch for paper and pen, his mind turning fragments of phrases around, searching for the one that would fit into the puzzle that is Nelyafinwë Russandol. Every phrase that comes to his mind is lacking that one final corner, one final straight to be clear enough to be articulated; nor comfortably fitting enough to be written down, much less spoken aloud. Finno yearns to do it, to make others understand what he does.

(He yearns to make them see how he is the only one that understands; how none of them may come close to him in their knowledge of Maitimo Fëanorian; how none of them may ever come as close to Findekáno Astaldo in Nelyafinwë Russandol's affections.)

"I do believe Uncle had more than one pupil in his diplomatic lessons."

Maitimo's eyes flash; danger and thunder and something mischievous. Finno feels his hröa react, shuffles on the chair. Maitimo's fingers tighten on his glass, and his mouth quirks in a half-smile.

"Mind you, though."

His inflection does not change when he speaks - no, rasps the words out. It is not a question, for there are rarely questions between them anyomore. It makes Finno feel warm all over, the inherent understanding after centuries of knowing one another; after everything they've gone through; they need little clarification.

"Mmmm," Finno hums. He makes sure to lick the stray drop off the glass' edge, never taking his eyes off of Nelyo's darkening ones.

"You know I've always loved to hear you talk, Russo," he says slowly. "And I've always enjoyed the way you run the Court into circles, never allowing them to gather their wits enough to understand what exactly you are telling them."

Nelyo's mouth widens into a grin. It is, objectively, a terrifying one, for his lips have been cut and abused horribly for a long enough time for them never to fully recover. Finno tries to imagine what the others see when they look at him, tries to look at Nelyo's face and only see the surface; he cannot.

It is not a matter of looking at Maedhros Fëanorian of Beleriand and seeing Nelyafinwë Fëanárion of Valinor; no, that is the furthest thing from his mind. It is just the fact that he would know Nelyo in his fëa and hröa both even if he lost his sight, his touch, his hearing, his taste right now. He would feel him if he lost all his senses right now, for his very being would sing, as it always does, when Russo is near.

"Mind you that I use you," Russo does not ask, he says, and Finno shivers, because he knows every timbre, every note, every shiver in Russo's voice.

"For my own gain," Russo continues, and his voice lowers even more, nland the shadows splay on his face. "Mind you when I use our," he pauses here, heavily, meaningfully. "Friendship for my political games, Findekáno."

Finno cannot take it anymore. He crosses the room in three strides until he is stood before Russo, who is silent, the look in his eyes knowing. It drives Finno wild, his hand shaking as he takes the wine cup from Russo's hand and puts it away on the table.

Their hands touch and Finno gasps. He wastes no more time and sits in Russo's lap. Up close and under the starlight, his scars are even more prominent. Finno traces them all, slowly, with his fingers.

"You may use our friendship in whichever way you please, Russo," Finno says. Russo's hand tightens around his waist. "You may use me in whichever way you please."

Their faces are a mere breath apart, and Russo's eyes are dark. Finno thinks his must be the same, and thinks He is the other part of my soul.

"I am yours to use, my love," he says, and their lips finally meet in a kiss, familiar and fiery.

"As I am yours," Russo whispers into the pauses betweent breaths and kisses. "Always."

#effervescentdragonwrites #russingon #tolkien fanfiction #silmarillion fanfic #russingon fanfic #drabble #i havent read through what i wrote so please forgive any mistakes and inconsistencies #:) #silm fanfic #silm drabble #tolkien fanfic #maedhros #fingon #nelyafinwe #findekano

[demonicchicken1121]

A list of my favorite lines from my discontinued gravity falls fanfic bc i couldnt just let them sit there in the google doc

What was this sensation? It wasn’t pain, this was worse than pain! 

Bipper gathered himself and grabbed a shard of glass from the broken spotlight they had knocked to the floor, gripping it so hard that blood dripped from his hand onto the glass. 

“Let go of me, you decrepit lifeform! My wrath knows no bounds!”

She was relatively sure that making a deal with a known-to-be-dangerous dream demon qualified as looking for trouble

Stan was, rightfully, dumbfounded.

 “Ah, hello there, could you perhaps point me towards the exit of this miserable establishment?”

“Oh wow it’s one of those food stabbing objects.”

Right! Humans can’t use magic, one of the many reasons why they’re so pathetic. 

“I wanted to leave his body the moment you inflicted that horrific sensation on me, oh and if you try pulling that stunt again I’ll stab your eye out,”

“So, like the good and respectful employees we are, we decided to secretly follow you down and eavesdrop on your conversation.”

“I tried to make a deal with one of the nurses but newsflash, your brother doesnt have any magic. So i stabbed the nurse in the eye with a fork and held him hostage so i could make the other flesh bags let me out of the miserable place, but that didn’t exactly go as planned.”

Mabel exhaled in relief, she was always a bit surprised when that fake ID actually worked. This never would have flown back in Piedmont.

“Thankfully, there’s no better place to get stabbed than in a hospital,”

The portal spat out a messy, unkempt man onto the ground

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, STANLEY?”

Ford looked up to see two young girls, a floating sock puppet, and what appeared to be some sort of gopher person staring at him,

“What? Did you think I would come walking out of the thing like a badass?”

Yes, why do you think he’s a sock?”

Ford blinked, “I've seen some weird shit in the last thirty years, I just thought it was normal.”

“What is it?” Mabel asked.

“Fake ID creator,” Ford said as he clicked to the language selection screen. “they’ll take an English ID card here right?”

“We suspected drugs, but we couldn’t ask the family member because of the whole thing with the gravity failure.”

“now listen here, you iscololes asshole—”

Ford and Bipper looked at the lifeless body on the floor, then at each other. Bipper laughed.

 “Finally, some damn metal!”  

“Never been better!” Bipper had several cuts from the glass, and he played with the oozing blood. His legs hurt too, and one of his wrists was twisted in a way that was probably not normal. Shocks of pain shot up his spine every time he tried to move. He felt something wet dripping from his eyes, but when he touched it, he realized it wasn’t blood, but water. A strange thickness built up in his throat, and a sick mixture of a laugh and a sob came out of his mouth that even he could hardly control. Bipper Thought that he had felt pain before, but this was something he could have hardly ever imagined. It was hilarious!

“Look, I know that you have some old man drama going on with Stan and whatever that thing is, but you’re letting it affect Dipper and Mabel’s safety.

“How the fuck did he drive my car off a cliff?”

He probably would have thrown up if he had organs.

“She can’t hear you, dumbass,”

#gravity falls #fanfic #bipper #mabel and dipper #gf #stanford pines #stanley pines #this was a sock opera alt ending but i didnt plan the actual ending of the fic so it is now discontinued #it was really fun to write tho #and ive got a ton more fanfics cooking in my brain #i would have added context but these are way better without it