#what's the point of a haircut if it's not a little fucked up
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Yes ma'am this is the man that's giving me gender envy
#mcr#my chemical romance#frank iero#witchy's band archive#I mean I guess this counts#but anyway yes hello I'm still in gender envy and dysphoria hell thanks for checking in#hhhhrrggngngg I want that haircut SO BAD#I was talking about it w frank and they said it'd look good and honestly? that's all I needed lmao I'm gonna do it#just. fuck it man. fuck it!!! and if it looks like shit it adds personality#what's the point of a haircut if it's not a little fucked up
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I LOVED how you wrote ghost and badass!reader omg 🫶 If you’re comfortable, would you be open to writing protective boyfriend ghost at the pub? Some oblivious guy is creepy when ghost goes to get drinks. He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into when ghost returns.
ill take any opportunity to write about my favorite lieutenant spilling blood for love (18+)
he has been gone for too long. your glass is empty, and the crowd is filling the room, and it's loud. you lose him, even the size of him is swallowed by how many people are moving around, and you sigh as you lean your head into your hands and wait for him.
you know he must hate this. the people. the noise. it's hot, too, and you know he'll complain a little about the stickiness of his mask when you get home.
you gasp when there's a splash of something against your back. you cry out in anger, and when you turn, there's two men cackling as they come into your space.
"ohhhh!" the lankier one giggles drunkenly, and his eyes make you uneasy. his hair is curling from the sweat along his brow, and the dark pieces of it fall in front of his face, drawing low shadows over him. he's the one holding the drink that just spilled down your back. "s-sorry, luv--" he hiccups, and you glare.
"fuck off," you snap, and it's then that you realize you've made a mistake. something ugly flashes across his face, and his friend notices, a bleach-blonde with an uneven haircut, and he whistles a little.
"oh, fuck, mate--she wants a fight."
you scoff, shaking your head. "if you aren't gonna apologize for spilling that shit on me, the least you can do is get the fuck out of here."
"oi, you got a fuckin' mouth on ya, lovie," the dark-haired one growls. you sit up a little straighter, brushing off some liquid that's spilled onto the table. they're cornering you, you realize, when the blonde one takes a seat across from you and the other traps you in the booth by sitting next to you.
"i'm not going to ask you again," you say firmly. "get your ass off this seat and move along."
"you're one of those, aren't you?" the one next to you gets uncomfortably close. "one of those feminists? that thinks men are useless, and that you're meant for something more than the fuckin' kitchen?"
you frown, your mouth opening slightly, and you shake your head, "excuse me?"
"you lot," he comes closer. "think you're hot shit. but y'r all fuckin' slags. only thing you're good for is opening y'r fuckin' legs."
you jump visibly when he grabs your thigh roughly, and you're about to react when a gloved hand finds the back of his head and slams it down against the wood of the desk.
you squeak when he cries out in pain, his nose pointing at unnatural angles, and blood splatters the table and the denim of your jeans. you lean back, but then those gloved hands grab the back of his shirt and yank him out of the booth, tossing him onto the floor. he skids across it, wet with spilled drinks, and he doubles over, coughing, cradling his face as he sobs.
you swallow hard when ghost finally turns his head back to the table. his chest is heaving, and he squeezes his hands in and out of fists when his eyes land on the helpless blonde that still somehow sits across from you.
"no--" he holds his hands up. "n-no, w-we were just--"
"just what?" ghost snarls, tilting his head to the side as he looks at him. you suck in a shaky breath, frozen in your seat, and you almost feel bad for the poor thing. but then you replay the words, the way they looked at you, how one of them put a hand on you. you relax a little, blinking, and you realize it must be acceptance.
you take a dog with you when you go out. it's not your fault people don't realize their bite hurts.
ghost takes a step towards him, boots heavy, and he runs. he bolts, running away, out the back door, and he leaves his friend to cradle his bloody face against his shaking hands all by himself. the crowd was quiet for a moment, but the mood softens when ghost turns away, letting out a low breath. people realize the show is over, and they shuffle back in place.
there is blood on the back of your hand. before you can touch it, a gloved hand reaches out and smooths his own over you, wiping it away. you sniffle, looking down, and he comes closer to crowd your space. you feel only warmth with him there, and your lip trembles a little.
"s-sorry, i--"
"wot are you apologizing for?" simon mutters. "apologizin' for those fuckin' twats, luv? don't want t'hear it."
he grunts, shaking his head, and he tugs on your arms, bringing you closer.
"c'mere," he tilts your head up, putting a few fingers on your chin and staring down at you. he narrows his dark eyes, and you smile, just a little, sadly. "was almost too late." he looks behind him, and you see a few feet away, there's two drinks spilled on the floor, glass shattered where he dropped them. "saw him put his fuckin' hands on you, 'n--"
you put a hand on his forearm, digging your nails in there gently. you shake your head.
"it's okay. doesn't matter." you laugh a little. "kinda hot."
you notice him raise a brow, and he tilts his head to the side, and he hums.
"oh, that right, luv?" he leans in, closer, and when he touches your hands, blood comes off on your hands. you smooth your hands against his own, gripping them firmly, and you look up at him as you smile knowingly.
simon would do unspeakable things for you. and that idiot was lucky to go home with his hands still attached. it should scare you that you know this, that you know this is a fact. it's dark, it's cruel, but it's yours, and you like the way it tastes in your mouth.
you like the way revenge feels against your tongue, the sound that love feels between your teeth. this love is fucked and raw, and it will tear you apart, but you can't wait for it, to feel it, the thin line between pain and pleasure. simon pushes the boundary between good and bad, and for once, the blood feels warm, and he paints you with it, and it's fucking poetic the way you look at him now.
pretty eyes, big eyes, eyes that tell him she's going to fuck you when she takes you home.
"yeah, big man," you murmur, and you feel something hot go through you when his eyes drop to your lips for just a second. just enough time for you to know he's losing his resolve. one thought about getting his hands on you, and he falls, and it's pathetic, but he's so fucking hard, he doesn't care. "it's hot."
and when he forces you to look in the mirror later, when it's dark and it's just the two of you, you realize there is blood on your face, and his hands are dirty with filth.
but when he goes to take the gloves off, you don't let him.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost x you#simon thoughts#ghost mwii#ghost call of duty
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buzzcut - blurb
this kinda sucks but it was on my drafts sooo why not, hope you enjoy !
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
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"I wonder how would I look with my head shaved." Harry randomly said one night both of you were cuddled up in bed.
"Where is that coming from, lovie?" You looked up at him, curious by his sudden statement.
"Dunno, I've never in my almost 30 years of age had a buzzcut," he shrugged, "I feel like It's part of manhood to shave your head at least once."
"Your manhood is just fine," you rolled your eyes with affection and pecked his chin, "But if you want to know how you'd look with no hair, you can always look for those AI pictures your fans have been making lately."
Harry laughed and kissed the crown of your head, leaving the conversation at that and focusing on the romantic comedy movie you picked for the night.
Days passed by and you soon forgot about your conversation and Harry didn't bring up his desire to shave his head again, so when he mentioned that he wanted to get a haircut you assumed that he was getting his usual trim.
Oh boy, were you wrong.
"I want to chop my hair a bit before we head to Vegas." He said a week before your trip, Jeff kept insisting that you needed to see the show he had been working on at the Sphere and you finally agreed.
"That's fine, just don't do anything extreme you know I love the curls." You replied, unaware of what he had up in his sleeve.
"Nothing to worry about, baby." You failed to notice the devilish smile on his face that gave away that he was planning something else.
The following day Harry told you that he was going to Ayae's place to get his haircut, which was weird to you because his hairdresser always came to your house to cut his hair, but you still didn't overthink it too much.
Until you got a text from her that read "Don't kill me or your boyfriend for what he made me do."
Just a minute after you got the text you heard the front door open and your name being called from downstairs.
"H are you home? Ayae texted me but I don't know what she means." You said as you made your way to him, he was standing in your living room, his hair being covered by the hood of his hoodie.
"I cut my hair," he said and a confused frown made its way to your face, "And I'm going to show it to you, but you need to promise me you won't freak."
"Why would I freak? Why are you acting so weird about it?"
Harry only smiled and pulled the hood from his head, revealing that his brand new buzzcut.
You stood in your place for a few minutes before reacting, "Is this some kind of joke?"
"It's not love! I shaved it," he got closer to you, a big smile on his face, “Do you like it?”
“Oh my god! Your hair is really gone! What the fuck, Harry.” You laughed in disbelief, grabbing his face to get a better look at him.
“I told you I wanted to give it a try before my twenties ended, remember?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shook your head, “This is crazy! Does Jeff know? Forget about him does your mom know? Oh my god we need to facetime her right now.”
Harry laughed at your rant, “Jeff knows love, he wants to shave his too, and we’ll facetime mum later,” he pecked your lips quickly, “Now wipe that look off your face! You’re looking at me like I’m an alien!”
“This is just so weird, but also such a you thing to do,” you pecked his lips back, “Your fans are going to be absolutely nuts about this.”
“Lord, that’s what i’m dreading the most.”
A week later you and Harry were standing in the crowd of U2's concert at the Las Vegas Sphere, surrounded by friends and other concertgoers.
Somehow Harry's new look gave him a little more privacy, since the world didn't know that his signature brown curls were gone and he could go unnoticed sometimes.
"You've been busted." You said as you noticed a phone camera filming the both of you, Harry was standing behind you with his hand protectively gripping your neck.
"What, love?" He asked, making you discretely point at the person with the camera.
"Well, I guess the madness stars now."
A day later, pictures and videos of Harry's new haircut flooded the internet, making his fans go crazy once again.
taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin n @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia a @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry
#harry styles fake instagram#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry styles writing#harry styles x you#harry styles fic#harry styles au#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles headcanon#harry styles fake social media#harry styles fic rec#harrysfolklore#harry styles instagram concept#harry styles headcannon#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fan fic#1k
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——————— ☠️
“Oh Sergeant- been looking for yo- oof! hey- HEY!!”
SLAM!!*
Simon stood shocked with his arms out at what he just witnessed and encountered, you running away with your face in your hand while the other pulled over the hoodie you wore. You didn’t even spare him a glance and basically ignored his words as you dashed by him and locked yourself in your little room after aggressively slamming the door.
Soap peeked out of his room that was across yours and frowned when he saw Simon by your door,
“Whatcha do to piss off da lass eh?”
Simon turned into Ghost quickly at the false accusation and grunted,
“I did nothing. Now piss off Soap.”
Soap frowned harder as he muttered while closing his door, not having the balls to press further as Ghost looked displeased.
“Gee sorry Lt.”
After what felt like hours to get through your door without breaking it down, Simon had finally walked in after threatening to toss away your candy stash from his office. And now he stood before you with his arms crossed, looking down at your seated figure holding yourself tightly.
He could tell you were beyond upset, maybe even angry, as you had refused to speak to him fully and didn’t look at him as you usually did. But Simon’s concern for you had him pushing your buttons, unrelenting as he asked for the fifth time.
“What happened Sergeant?”
Silence filled the room for a bit before you
finally replied, still holding a tone of hesitation,
“they... they messed my hair up.”
Placing his hands on his hips Simon kindly insisted, hoping to get more out of you now that you had decided to talk,
“Alrigh’... let me see your face please when you speak, can’t hear ya behind your hands.”
Of course he could hear you clearly, but he wanted to see your face, let you know that you could trust him, even in your most vulnerable state. Seeing you didn’t move he pressed on, growing a bit inpatient now,
“C’mon Sergeant... don’t have all day. That or I’ll-“
Huffing and using your hands to pull down the hood you then dropped them to your lap with a tantrum like behavior as you cried,
“Ok look!! There it is-“
Lifting a ‘threatening’ finger at you Simon warned as he stared you in the eye,
“Hey! Watch your tone with me Sergeant.”
Yes he knew he had been putting pressure on that grenade of yours, but he had trained you hard to conceal the anger in order to not bust at the wrong person and time. But maybe right now wasn’t the right time to exercise such, as you sunk into your chair.
And hearing that tone coming from your Lieutenant was enough to let your eyes tear up again and that bottom lip of yours jut out and tremble slightly, maybe you deserved to be called out, but damn you weren’t feeling up to taking it right now.
Simon felt upset as he saw your saddened state, so he let brown orbs leave your sad ones as he finally took in your ‘haircut’ or more like a ‘hair massacre’, growing even more upset as he found the cause of your state.
He could tell it was no little mistake that they had done, like a slip up or perhaps it was a bit uneven- Nope... they really had the audacity to shave off the left side and chop off the right to the top, and the bottom part was just a mess of tangles and chunks cut off. Who ever did it was an asshole 100%.
Simon face palmed as he thought of many ways he could abolish the fuck out of those shit eating assholes, but hearing your soft sniffle snapped him back to you.
You came first.
He then walked closer to you and sighed, reaching for the top of your head and with his pointing finger he moved it a bit to examine it.
“What happened to your hair Sergeant?”
You hiccuped a sob while caressing what was left of your hair, wiping away some tears with your other hand.
“I-I told the girls to help me with a trim, and *sniff*.. they chopped it off and ruined it. Saying it was about time I had a change.”
Looking back into the tiny mirror you had there, you pouted at the sight of your hair all messed up and disastrous. One pride and joy you had was your hair, you had really liked taking care of it and making sure it was braided nicely and all.. and now? What about now that it’s all gone?
Simon knew about your pride in your hair and braids, or the neatly done buns you had up for missions. It was what made you, you... and he understood that. Simon knew what it was like to have something of him ripped away, like they stole a part of his identity, so of course... he could only imagine your pain.
But all he could do now was sorta fix it and assure you it’s all be fine soon.. soon once he fuckin’ breaks those assholes’ hands- hangs them from their hands- burns them- ties them and- ok.. yeah, let’s just say they won’t ever do it again.
Simon nodded slowly and hummed, rocking on his heels slowly as he dreaded what came next.
“Hmmhmm... ok, bring me my razor so you can cut it.”
Your eyes widened a bit but you replied nonetheless,
“ok...”
You knew it had to be done in order to let your hair grow back to normal, so sadly you went to a personal cabinet to look for the razor Simon preferred to use, it gave him the sharpest and cleanest cut, the shortest one too. You were a tad bit surprised he’d let you use his- but if he was going to supervise maybe that’s why.
Walking back to him you held it up close to his face, for reassurance that it was the right one. Simon glanced at it once and his eyes spoke for you, calm and affirming, it was the right one.
Like a defeated child you looked around your room for the nearest outlet, tears and your pout growing as the moment came closer.
Finally you had it connected and set, looking around confused wondering if you were missing anything, and thinking you weren’t, you were about to start until Simon held your wrist gently, causing you to halt for a second as you listened,
“Allow me?”
Looking up at him you saw the sincerity in his eyes, matching his tone. It was something so rare to see behind eyes that had seen death and hell, darkness and hurt.. but it made you feel somewhat better as you handed it to him,
“sure.. thanks.”
Taking it carefully he mumbled softly,
“don’t mention it Sergeant, now sit back and wait.”
Sitting back in your chair you played with your fingers as you waited patiently, while he prepped the area after discarding his gloves, grabbing a couple more items he needed quietly and gently. It was so different to see Simon like this, taking things slowly and being ever so gentle, unlike his rough tactics on field or his constant loud huffs he let out due to frustration.
He actually looked peaceful.
What was also very nice to see and feel during such a time was him mumbling softly at you everytime he was going to grab your head and move it, letting out a pleased sigh when you complied immediately and moved at his command.
“‘m gonna hold ya right here m’k?”
“Hold righhh- that’s perfect Sarge, don’t move.”
“I’m going behind ya ears, stay still... atta girl.”
“How’re we doin’ Sarge?”
“Hmm Hmm... almos’ there.”
Simon’s soothing Manchester voice could’ve put you too sleep, making you forget your nightmare of a day, and his gentle warm hands holding your head was making the memories and headache disappear bit by bit.
Who would’ve thought that such red hands were actually the hands of an angel? The voice behind the one that screamed at death was indeed soft and rumbling warm like a perfect motor on a winter night drive?
CLICK’
What shook you awake was when you heard out of the blue that click along with some proud proclamation,
“Aha! Look at ya Sergeant.. sporting my look. It suits you well- take a look.”
Simon pat your head and shook off any remaining hairs as you swallowed the lump in your throat and opened your eyes when you got the mirror from him. But shock was read across your face- not from seeing your new haircut- but the man behind you.
“Lieutenant?”
“Hm hmm..”
You turned around in your chair so fast you could’ve knocked the air out of you, but what actually took your breath away was the face now before you, the face behind Ghost.
There he stood in his glory, owning a few scars on his face, but they made him who he was, tiny freckles adorned his crooked nose and cheeks, his brown eyes appeared more bright without the dark masked shadowing over them, and his eyebrows matched his white lashes as so did his buzz cut hair. His lips shaped into a faint smirk as he gestured his head towards the mirror,
“Take a look at my work.. ‘is nice innit?”
Coming back to the moment you nodded dumbly and now looked in the mirror, smiling softly at your buzz cut. It was definitely new and extremely different to you, but the fact that Simon did it for you and it was like his haircut... that made you feel so much better, stronger even.
Raising a hand to feel the prickly feeling over your palm as you ran your fingers through your short hair, you chuckled lightly,
“It’s very nice Lieutenant.. thanks.”
Turning back to see him had your smiling fading a bit, as he had his mask back on already, concealing his Adonis sculpted face, but your smile lifted again when you heard a low chuckle escape his lips,
“Now we match Sergeant.”
“We do Lieutenant... but-“
“If anyone says a word about it they’ll hear from me, but I expect you to stand up for yourself first.. then I’ll knock their ass. Hear me?”
Standing up in front of his broad stature you promised, hoping to convince yourself that you would.
“I-I will Ghost.”
A gentle grip met your shoulder as he warned,
“I’ll find out if you don’t.. but I hope I don’t catch that... because I know you’re strong and better than that Sergeant.”
His reassuring words gave you a boost, like a cool ice cream after a long hot day, a comforting hug to ease the ache.
Spreading kindness wasn’t Simon’s best trait, his life made him a hard man, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any good left in him at all, and whatever he did have left he made sure to let it out once in a while, so he could remind others and mostly himself, that he was human.
“Appreciate it Ghost..”
Simon gave you a short nod, his eyes twinkled a tad bit, as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on your head through his mask, letting you know he gifted a smile behind his mask. He then pulled back and gestured towards the door,
“Onward you go, and I’ll be keeping an eye on ya.. don’t back down.”
Heading towards the door walking backwards you saluted him,
“Affirmative sir!”
———————
Let’s just say, a few days later an odd occurrence happened? Some of the ladies had a lice infestation all of a sudden, and were ordered by the Lieutenant to shave their heads immediately in order to stop the spread amongst themselves. (Who in the hell knows how that happened..☠️
Also, you walked into your space one evening, and found a small box by your bed, containing the best hair growth products from England, with a lock and key so no one could get to it but you. And lastly a little note on top with a simple message.
‘If you ever need a trim, come find me’
(You didn’t have to guess who it was...☠️)
#simon riley call of duty#simon riley cod#simon riley#simon riley fanfic#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#cod simon riley#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost modern warfare#ghost fluff#simon riley fluff#simon riley x you#ghost x you#ghost cod#cod ghost#call of duty fluff#call of duty
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ony is the best baby daddy like he just has that energyyy 😫
rightttttt like he gets the kids on time and if he’s late he will always let you know. he knows how to do his daughters hair and always makes sure his son has a haircut. his kids are always dressed nice and he always makes sure they’re taking care of each other as well as taking care of their beautiful mother.
he still finds himself looking out for you too, always telling the kids to “order sum for mommy” when he takes them out to eat or to “always make sure mommy’s not working too hard”. even on days he isn’t supposed to have them he’d gladly take them if you were feeling overwhelmed. if you’re feeling sick he’ll literally sleep at your house, soup and medicine sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch as he slept just incase you were to wake up in the middle of the night.
he’d constantly “forget” money at your house after he leaves too, telling you to “just get yourself sum nice”. if you give the money back anyways he’d give it to his oldest child, telling them to put it in your wallet for him.
when it’s his weekend with the kids he’d call you every couple of hours to let you know he has everything under control since he knows how worried you could get when you haven’t heard from him i awhile.
he always speaks highly of you to the kids, telling his daughters stories of when the two of you were young and in love and telling his sons stories of how strong you were for him when he couldn’t be strong for himself. your kids would honestly be what got the two of you back together. they’d constantly tell you the stories their father would tell them, reminding you of how happy the two of you used to be and making you realize that you didn’t even know why the two of you called it quits in the first place.
as soon as you called ony he’d answer on the first ring, throwing millions of questions at you since you never really called unless he had the kids. you’d shut him up by asking if he could come over to talk for a little in which he replied almost instantly with a yes. he’d be over there in less than fifteen minutes letting you lead him to your bedroom to talk just incase your kids came downstairs for some water or a late night snack.
of course the two of you didn’t get to talk for more than ten minutes, his dick shoved deep into you as he held his hand over your mouth. “shhh mama you gotta be quiet. ion want you t’wake the kids” he’d whisper, fucking into you deeper as he watched your teary eyes roll to the back of your skull. you’d mumble back a muffled “mhm” as you felt the pad of his thumb begin to circle your clit. you’d whine and moan for him loader and loader, turning him on to the point where his grunts and groans began to come out at a higher volume as well. soon enough the both of you were deep in bliss, fucking on each other just like you used to. you’d tell him how much you missed him and how you’ve never stopped loving him and he’d gladly say it back, deepening his stroke as he left passionate kisses on your lips.
as the two of you finished ony would lay you back down, letting sleep claim you as he moved towards the door to check on his little angels. as soon as he turned the doorknob loud shuffles could he heard from the hallway, the sound of a bunch of feet running towards one of the bedrooms and little whispers of “sh sh shh” and “be quiet” coming from it as he made his way down the hall to check on his “sleeping” children. he couldn’t help but smile when he seen them cuddled up together on a large blanket of the floor, some of the smaller ones in bed with the oldest. they had different rooms, but chose to sleep together often since they were all so close.
ony couldn’t help but notice the small smiles on each of their faces, nothing but excitement and joy rushing through them as they thought about how happy much happier their parents will be now that they’re together again.
i didn’t even mean to write this i just let my brain leak all over the place…
#aot x black reader#onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon x reader#onyankopon x black!reader#aot onyankopon#onyankopon smut#aot onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon x black!reader#aot onyankopon smut
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BARBIE AND KEN
summary: you force rafe to dress up as ken to match you for the new barbie movie— and he starts feeling himself way too much.
warnings: cursing , a little cringe ( but i can’t resist soft!rafe x reader idc how fanon anyone thinks it is. this is the character development rafe we need in the next season. )
— no ‘barbie!’ movie spoiler!
Wearing his old clothes made him feel different. He had ditched the polo shirts for just plain tees. His hair was buzzed , no longer able to be gelled back in a way that made him spend alot longer looking in the mirror than he’d ever admit.
At first when you told him your idea , asking him if he’d do it with you , he was completely against it. He didn’t have a problem taking you to the movie— but he didn’t know how he felt about dressing up for it.
But the look on your face was too hard to let down and eventually , he cracked. A smile tugging on his lips while he rolled his eyes at you , shaking his head when you clapped happily and pulled out the bag of clothes you had bought for yourself.
“Remember that peach polo you’d always wear?” Your heart glimmered that piece of Rafe’s life. Even if he hadn’t been the most liked , and he seemed like a real big asshole— it was the start of everything and it always held such a big place in your heart. Knowing the boy him , before watching him become the man he was now was touching to you. Especially when you thought about him and how he’d watch you do the same. “I got you the same kind just a different color so it’ll match the dress I bought!”
Your smile took up half your face as you laid it on the bed beside you. Rafe’s face scrunched up at the color , rubbing his temples. “Oh fuck me.”
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. The Rafe I knew two years ago would’ve ate this up and you know it!” Pointing an accusing finger in his direction , you burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh! Your perfect little hairstyle too. It’s time like these when I miss that asshole–esq haircut.” You sighed sadly.
Rafe scoffed as he picked up the shirt to examine it closer. “Please , you loved that haircut.”
“I did.” You giggled and stood up. You wrapped your arms around his neck to catch his attention , flushing at his eyes on you. “We’re gonna be so cute! You’re so Ken , Rafey.” You gushed. There were many things you loved and adored about Rafe , but your favorite was when he’d do whatever you asked— no matter how silly other people would think it was.
Rafe smirked and threw the shirt back on the bed lazily to hold your hips. “I am , aren’t I?”
“You so are.” You agreed , kissing at the apple of his cheeks. “You’re like. . . Polo Ken.”
“Okay I don’t dress like that anymore!” Rafe defended himself with a groan.
Your brain flashed back all the memories you had of him , the earliest ones making your heart flutter at how sweet and innocent things were. It all started with a teenage girl with the biggest crush on the King of Kooks— adorning him from afar until he finally cracked first. The relationship wasn’t always perfect and it had its bumpy moments , but the outcome would always make it worth it. Absentmindedly , your hands trailed up to the back of Rafe’s neck. Your fingers fiddled with his hair , feeling the edges of his buzzcut. You remembered when you’d run your fingers through it after his shower and all the gel would be gone. The loose strands of hair making him boyish and sweet , stripped of that ego and left with just him. “Remember those backwards hats?”
Rafe let out an exasperated noise and dropped his head low at your teasing. “Must you torture me with reminding me of my horrible fashion taste?”
“Mine wasn’t any better.” You laughed at yourself , remembering what you used to wear.
“Well back then , you weren’t wearing alot of clothes around me.” Rafe smirked , wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively.
Your cheeks burned up as you slapped his chest , backing away. “Anyways—” you huffed whilst he chuckled. “The movie’s in like two hours so I’m going to shower and get ready.”
“Perfect! Me too.” He grinned. Though his smile dropped as you grabbed your things and walked towards the bathroom without him.
“Not in the mood to be peed on today.” You sang towards him and shut the door.
You smiled at yourself in the mirror , smoothing down your hot pink dress. You had done all the works. The hair and makeup with the dress and wedges. You wanted to feel like a real Barbie , and right now— you did. Your smile couldn’t be any bigger and the girlish excitement you felt rumbling in your belly made your skin dance.
“Rafe! You ready?” You yelled out to him. You had decided in the shower that you wanted it to be a surprise. This would be something nostalgic for you , fun. You couldn’t wait to take all the pictures to store in your camera and keep as a sweet keepsake.
It was something you and Rafe were doing all on your own. It wasn’t Midsummers , or a special costume party. It was just a cute memory to make with your boyfriend , and it comforted you. You felt all the emotions in your belly. Your heart was racing and your cheeks were all flushed and you felt like a little girl again , meeting her crush on the first day of school. . . Even if it did feel a bit silly , it was nice.
“Yeah , baby. I’m ready , alright.” Rafe called back to you. He too couldn’t keep his eyes off the mirror. He looked like him , but not the him he was used to anymore. The attire holding onto so many feelings and memories. Some were good , and some weren’t so good. But it didn’t take away the small , innocent grin threatening to reveal itself on his face.
You threw the door open and was immediately filled with glee. Your eyes lit up at the sight of him , looking like the teenage boy you fell in love with. The two of you were only just entering your twenties— but seventeen felt like a lifetime ago now.
You clapped happily at him. Rafe couldn’t help the blush on his face at the feeling of your adornment. And you had looked— so pretty. It wasn’t just the outfit , but how you glowed wearing it. Your shoulders were squared and your face was so bright and Rafe swore he hadn’t seen anyone more beautiful. “Polo Ken is now my new favorite.”
Rafe smiled down at you. His thumb brushed your hair away from your face , and he couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and press a kiss to your lips softly. The lipstick the last thing on either of your minds. “You look so , so pretty.” He assured you.
“We are real life Barbie and Ken.” You hummed. “I don’t make the rules.”
And you were. Rafe had loved you then , and he only loved you twice as much if that was possible. Sometimes , he felt as though his heart would grow out of his body for you.
It was just you and him in your own little dreamland for now.
And you’d onto that , for now , as long as you could.
#rafe imagine#rafe x you#rafe cameron#rafe fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe fic#rafe headcanons#rafe x y/n#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron headcanons#rafe cameron x you
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I voted for Joshua but, in my heart I chose both him and Jeonghan lol. I've been in a JeongShua drought lately
+ love your writing!!! would you mind to write some smutty jihan x reader? please
Pairing: bf!jeonghan x afab!reader x bf!joshua
Genre: humor, smut
word count: 1.5k
tags: established poly relationship, NO INCEST I cannot emphasize this enough, spanking, spitting, an*l play, double pen., sex toy, mouth fucking, throat bulge, degradation (cumslut, some objectification), unprotected sex
Summary: Just as conniving as your boyfriends, you convince both of them to get the same haircut without the other one knowing. The moment they came home, realizing what you've done, they show you the kind of consequences you've earned yourself by being a little trickster.
author note: so siblings or dating is a little thing where people guess whether a pairing in a picture is either siblings or dating and sometimes it what you least expect. So when I saw these pics separately for the first time I had to think long and hand how these two would work together, I immediately wanted this fic to be silly bc they are so so silly 😃 well enjoy!
Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han
“Babe what the fuck.”
Your camera flashed bright white, getting them both in the same frame. At this point, you were laughing your ass off as both your boyfriends stared at you unamused. “You guys look great. I have great taste.”
After dating for a year, you’ve had your fair share of pranks, leading up to countless photos and videos that haunt you to this day. Dating one of them was exciting enough, dating two of them became utter chaos. When the opportunity rose for you to get them both back at the same time, you took it.
You let out their collective sighs as you jumped around them with taunting laughter like a child on a sugar high. Their faces didn’t even look the least bit alike but when they got identical haircuts, the more similarities you were starting to see. Joshua was the first to speak up his bemusement while Jeonghan looked almost impressed, holding back a bit of his own laughter.
“It’s not that funny,” Joshua said, deadpanned.
“No, it’s really that funny,” You insisted.
He trodded off toward your laughing figure before throwing you over his shoulder. His hand came over your ass in harsh spanks, but it did not falter the boisterous notice you were making. “Stop”–spank–“laughing,”–spank.
“Josh,” you responded between giggles, “You and Hannie look so fucking alike right now!”
“Okay. I’m taking you to bed. I know how to shut you up.”
He brought you to your shared room before throwing you on the bed, Jeonghan following after in his chuckles, while a big and bright smile is still on your face. You felt none of the threat oozing from Joshua’s eyes but Jeonghan knew exactly what was coming and although he wasn’t as bothered by your practical joke like Joshua was, he was looking forward to giving you your just desserts.
“Say it.”
“Josh,” you moaned.
Joshua held your head down on the mattress, cheek pushed into the sheets, as his thick, long fingers plunged in and out of you. “Not that. You know what I want to hear. Jeonghan, remind them.”
Jeonghan’s raw cock stood mere inches from your face, a sinister smile on his face. He pressed the curve of the head to your lips before he slapped it against them. “You’re gonna play dumb for us, baby? Or are you really just that dumb?”
“Hannie…” you sighed into the sheets, breath hitching as you felt a knuckle curve into your warmth, “Give it to me please…”
His pristine bangs swept over his forehead, reaching his eyes. His gentle voice prodded into you just as much as his cock teased to be inside you. “Then say it. You’re not our little cockslut for anything, so say what we want to hear.”
You mewled in yearning for Jeonghan, gripping the sheets desperately. “I’m…sorry…”
“For?”
Your answer got caught in your throat, muffled moans only escaped as Joshua pushed in a third finger, twisting them inside you as strikes of his free hand handed on your ass already bruised with his clutches. Your arousal slides down his forearms, his thumb pressed against the rim of your puckered entrance and with that, you whine. Your shallow breaths took a slow release, looking back in the eyes of the boyfriend whose cock couldn’t look more edible and perfect to fuck the inside of your throat.
“I’m sorry…for t-tricking you…”
“Good,” Joshua replied, “before I forgive you, I need you to say something else for me.”
“Y-yes…”
He exchanged knowing with his boyfriend, eyes flickering with fire that had the power to burn every inch of your skin, once having let you suffer in the throes of being blue-balled. Edging was the bane of your existence, but their way of life.
“Say how much you need our cocks in you.”
“…I,” You swallowed, “desperately need your cocks me…”
“Are you going to be a good little slut for us?” Jeonghan joined.
“Yes…I’ll be your good slut…”
“Because that’s what you want, right?” Joshua added, “You’re made to be a couple of holes we can fuck in, right?”
“Yes…I’m just a couple of holes to be filled up by your cocks…”
“Who’s cumslut are you?”
“Y-yours, Josh…And y-yours, Hannie.”
“See, it does matter the jokes you pull on us, you’ll never beat us, we own you. You belong to us. You’re our perfect little slut for us to use up. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes…” your voice gave out, your climax coming and going, the clench of your warmth sucking in Joshua’s fingers, “I’m yours to fuck and nobody else’s.”
In that second, Jeonghan rewarded you and his girth stretched the circumference of your mouth. Your eyes, blown open from the adjustment, stared back at Jeonghan, a whimpering mess all over his cock. He let out a groan, and a hand of his ran down your hair. “What a perfect little mouth…”
Meanwhile, Joshua is sucking off the bit of you left on his fingers and his cock aligned at your arousal before he made himself known. You pounded your fist at your side, while the other fisted Jeonghan’s length so you can reach the base. Your tears ran away from your eyes in protest, burning down your cheek as you felt him enter your throat, a bulge taking shape at the column of your neck.
“Fuck, you look so good…” Jeonghan groaned.
He held his hand over the bulge, moving gently down and up to feel it form and disappear. Besides being utterly entertaining, the sensation it shot through him was I compared to anything else. Your throat was like a perfect home, taking every inch of him, molded perfectly to his shape.
God, did it hurt, but something about him filling you, holding himself inside you, as moisture leaked from your face in a scorching heart was heart-pounding, frightful, but all the more thrilling. Jeonghan pulled out for a moment, letting you take him at your pace—a wet, flustered, sob-stained mess that gasped for beyond oxygen—before abandoning mercy and fucked you to the depth of your throat.
Joshua, on the other hand, split your divide wide for the taking, and his cock doesn’t wait a moment to adjust, just fucking your insides until he could feel you swell around his girth. He threw his head back, your ass jiggling against every thrust like dessert, flawless collapsing around his hips.
In the midst of this, he has your toy, wrapping it around his lips to moisten it for comfort, and his saliva lubed its silicone exterior. “All your holes. Remember that.”
He spat at your puckered lip, a shiver ran up your spine, and he lathered it soft, prepping you for entry. As insurance, a translucent ribbon stretched from him and your toy before it finds plugged inside you, Joshua now in control of both your lower ends.
You shook beneath him, mouth full of cock, holes fucked full to the point you could be classified as your common electrical outlet, and you felt dirty. Safe to say it was in the best way.
Jeonghan, who has held himself back the entire time inside you, finally released his proof of sin, pouring it down your throat like a hot, strong faucet, making your body jump in response. In turn, you feel your arousal follow soon after, the buckling of your hips not bothering Joshua in the slightest, and you begin to gently come down from one high to move on to another.
Joshua, held you by your ass cheek, hand ensuring the toy inside you takes full advantage while tugged against your hole’s resistance, pushing in and out of you between your plush whines. “That’s right, cum…cum around my cock again…good sluts can handle more…”
Joshua pushed you against the mattress deep until there was nothing but your body and him, your thighs pulsated around him. Your screams were loud and satisfying as you spoke only in his name. His cock shot loads inside you, final thrusts taking their final strikes until he was empty. He pulled, his hot, molten cum oozing right out of you. His knees took a fall, folding his thighs flat against his shins and he’s catching his breath.
Jeonghan pulled out as well, laying himself out on your cheek, twitching on your face in utter fatigue. “Good fucking job, baby.”
“Damn good fucking job,” Joshua repeated before pressing a kiss to your side.
Clean-up wasn’t an option at this point with all the energy drained from all your bodies and at the moment it was fine, it was time to rest. Jeonghan, who usually can’t stand to be without his phone for a few minutes, retrieves it from the bedside table, seeing the screen plastered with notifications. “Y/n, what the fuck? You sent our picture to ‘Siblings or Dating’ on Instagram?”
You slightly chuckled, momentarily forgetting about that. “Oops. That I did.”
“Well, it looks like you have more to learn don’t you,” Joshua said, now fueled by sheer spite, “Good thing your ass is open and ready for us.”
#svthub#seventeen smut#svt smut#joshua smut#jeonghan smut#yoon jeonghan smut#hong jisoo smut#joshua hong smut#hong joshua smut#yoon jeonghan#hong jisoo#joshua hong#hong joshua#seventeen#seventeen joshua hong#seventeen joshua#seventeen jeonghan#seventeen yoon jeonghan
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Entanglement (1/2)
PAIRING: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Medic F!Reader
A/N: my little contribution to the 141 challenge by the amazing @glitterypirateduck || but I was very tipsy when I wrote this and am very tipsy as I post it sO IT DOESNT COUNT DO NOT PERCEIVE ME || I WILL SOBER WRITE A PART 2 PROMISE
Prompts used: Military Base, Dude in Distress, Take care of each other (helping w/bath, stitches, haircut, sickness, etc.), “Who did this to you?”
Part 1 || Part 2 ||
____
The base is quiet this time of year—it’s nice. The quiet is obviously preferable to the chaos, and sometimes you like just sitting with your thoughts in your cozy little nook on base. There are a handful of people around, all of whom you liked, one of whom you really liked, but you’d bite your tongue off before you ever said that out loud. Especially to him.
And it’s like you’ve summoned him by just the power of your thoughts, because he walks into your little office with his hand clenched tight over his bleeding arm (that you had just sutured) and a large smile on his face. His eyes dart around quickly and then come back to yours happily, grin widening from noting that you were the only one in the infirmary at that moment.
“You’re a fucking idiot.” You use your chin to point at the leaking bandage over his arm, and start to gather your supplies.
But Soap’s never been one to dwell. “Yeah,” he agrees, easily. “Go’ me here though, didn’ it, bonnie?”
“What happened? Who did this to you?”
He leans closer and whispers, conspiratorially. “Very bad men, bonnie. But ah’ll keep them away from you, promise.”
You shake your head and turn away, having to pretend to grab something from behind you so that your charming, gorgeous hunk of a patient doesn’t see your shy smile. “You’re bleeding out again, MacTavish. I need to fix this. Again.”
“Oh, bonnie, y’er the only who can,” he sighs, dramatically, and. It’s stupid. It’s such a stupid fucking line but you still want to find somewhere to hide, your smile finally spilling out into your cheeks.
MacTavish is a shameless flirt. Everyone knows this, it’s a very ill-kept secret, not that Johnny would want it to be a secret at all. It comes naturally to him—stupid words spew out of him and suddenly, you want to cover your heated cheeks with your palms and look anywhere but into his bright blue eyes.
He waits for you to look back at him, and you have to roll your eyes at the giddy grin he wears on his face.
“Alright then, sergeant, let’s see the damage, shall we?”
“Oh the damage is far too deep t’fix, luv,” he says, but grins and extends his arm for you to look at anyway.
The sight of his blood-covered arm makes you wince in sympathy, and you start to slowly unwrap the gauze and tape around his arm before you clean his wound. The wound on his arm looks angry and almost pulses in front of your eyes, and he winces and groans as you begin to suture. You shush him quietly everytime, and try to concentrate—really, you do—but you can feel his eyes on your face.
When you look back up at him, he doesn’t even do you the courtesy of looking away. No, the man makes eye contact with you, eyes shining.
It takes you some effort to rearrange your features into the look of mild tiredness that you wear around him often. “Can I help you, MacTavish?”
“‘Fraid I’m beyond y’help, bonnie,” he grins, cocky and sure, and so fucking handsome. “Though…y’could go out wi’me. Might make me hurt less.”
“God,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You know that I can’t.” His pout makes you laugh, and you stand up to go wash your hands. Before you get too far away from him, though, you feel warm fingers wrap around your wrist and squeeze gently.
“MacTavish,” you whisper. “We can’t.” The words are insistent, and you put what feels like considerable effort into sounding like you mean them, but your attention is caught by the slow, almost hypnotic motion of his ridiculously pink tongue wetting his lips. When your eyes finally meet his, you already know what he’s going to say.
“You could, though, bonnie. Y’could go out wi’me.”
“Johnny…”
“Could make it worth y’while,” he whispers, suggestively, and this time it’s his eyes that linger on your lips before they come back up to meet yours. “Keep the bad men away from ya, if you'd like” His words are flirty and unserious, as usual, but God, does he manage to look earnest as he says them.
"All of them?" you wonder out loud.
His eyes shine as you play along. He considers your words for a moment. "No. Not all of 'em."
“We could be caught,” you counter. “Won’t your Captain have your head for it?”
“‘N I'd happily go out for you, sweet girl.”
You shake your head as you write him a prescription for the pain. “You’re incorrigible. I’m not going to be reassigned because you’re horny, Sgt. MacTavish.”
“Horny,” he gasps in mock-horror. “Horny? Ahm’ here out of m’mind in love, hen! Horny, she says!” He shakes his head and his smile dims a little, but only for a second, before his eyes light up, wickedly. “Consider it. We’d make bonnie children, aye?”
You freeze because…what is there to even say to that.
When he kisses your cheek and whistles cheerily on his way out, you do find yourself considering it.
#141challenge#johnny mctavish#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#lumi writes#also#super soap sunday
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the jjk men flirting
including gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuji, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuta, fushiguro toji
a/n: hi hi ! back after a while with these flirting hcs :] i hope they aren’t too ooc i tried to make them fit but i do not know the first thing about flirting I’m sorry I’m not a player </3
masterlist
— gojo satoru !
everyone says he’s so flirty and so smooth w it and I’m not saying i disagree but i am saying when he realizes he has actual real feelings for someone his rizz goes out the window
he starts second guessing all his pick up lines and all his flirting tactics
does not know how to act around you anymore because you don’t want someone who never takes things seriously so he has to be more serious, right?
where he would usually make a joke he tries to be more serious
when he doesn’t laugh at your “that’s what she said” joke you get a little suspicious, worried that something was wrong with him
gojo only grew more flustered when you looked at him with concerned eyes and voice as sweet as honey
starts to go back to normal when you tell him you miss his usual self, back making jokes and flirty remarks your way
“y/n have you always looked so beautiful during sunset?” “you like coffee? that’s crazy i do too! how about we go on a coffee date”
when you don’t pick up the hint he grows a bit frustrated, trying to hang out with you alone more, his flirty remarks are out the window and he’s just telling you how he feels at that point
“if you wear that outfit again i might just ask you to be mine” “very funny satoru” (he wants to rip his hair out)
— nanami kento !
makes you swoon so fucking easily it’s embarrassing
absolute dream of a man everyone wants him but he wants you so bad he’s running around town finding the best florist to buy you a bouquet of your favorite flowers only to hand them to you later and say “i saw them on my way here so i thought why not”
will start getting you small things, picks you flowers from the side of the road or sidewalk, if you guys walk together he’ll give them to you then and there
constantly compliments you, “you looks so pretty like that,” “your hair looks nice styled this way”
notices small things about you and points them out, knows when you get your eyebrows done or a small haircut
it’s pretty obvious when he flirts because he is just straight up smiling at you calling you pretty and asking you on a date but in the most subtle charming way possible
finds himself staring at you an unhealthy amount of times, finds your mannerisms so heart warming
will pick up your hobbies so you could spend time together or have someone to talk about it to
he’ll offer to cook for you and invites you to his apartment often for any small thing,,, “i lost my tv remote and i can’t find it, do you wanna come help? I’ll buy you dinner”
he is just so fucking charming and such a gentleman because he wants you so bad and he’s determined to win your heart over no matter how long it take
— fushiguro mergumi !
so awkward and endearing it hurts your heart
he’ll scowl less around you, smiling at any small comments you make and occasionally chuckling at your bad jokes
does not know how to approach you at all, he’ll opt to just trying to be around you in hopes of getting you alone to talk to just you and not the others
“so i was thinking maybe we could go eat somewhere, together?” his smile was small and his cheeks were pink as you smiled back at him, “I’d love that!” you replied, about to speak up again but you were interrupted by yuji’s arm wrapping around your shoulder
“we’re gonna go out to eat? I’ll tell kugasaki!” neither of you could stop your pink haired friend before he was off to tell nobara, megumi would frown but you’d nudge him, offering a sympathetic smile and squeezing his arm
will make you a playlist with his music ke ‘songs that remind me of u’ or music he thinks you’d like (makes sure to put a good amount of love songs so that maybe you’d get the hint)
he’ll watch your favorite shows or movies without you knowing so next time you bring it up he can talk to you about it
memorizes all your favorite things you say in passing, when the opportunity arises he’ll make it known that yeah, he remembered what your favorite starburst flavor was and yeah he bought a pack and saved all of your favorites to give to you the next day
will probably harbor a crush for a while before he gives up on his own methods and begrudgingly asks gojo how to flirt
gojo will smile at him, tell him he’s doing fine and send him on his merry way because although megumi doesn’t notice the way you check yourself in your camera when megumi walks over, or the way you giggle at his every word, gojo certainly does
— itadori yuji !
absolute angel of a boy
will do absolutely every cliche thing when he has a crush on someone
buys you lunch, shares headphones with you, walks you home, texts you late at night funny videos or memes, calls you for hours on end, tells you terrible jokes
he’d probably blush a bit anytime you’re sitting next to him because he can almost feel the heat radiating off you and it’s driving him insane
he’ll try his best to flirt but just comes off as a little insane, so he sticks to being himself and hoping making you laugh is enough to win your heart
when he compliments you his cheeks get soooo rosy and he fumbles over his words, sometimes he’ll fidget with his fingers and he just looks so cute how can you not graciously accept the compliment
always includes you in activities even in times where you have no reason to be there
“fushiguro and i were gonna go play some volleyball with the other guys you wanna come?” “i have never touched a volleyball in my life” “great! I’ll save you a spot on the team”
he just wants to spend time with you !! how can you say no to him ?? (his team won solely because his athletic prowess overshadowed your terrible serves)
won’t brush his feelings off, he knows he likes you and he’s not gonna try and hide it (to an extent) especially not when he wants you to know he likes you so that you can make a move if you’re comfortable with it
in the meantime he’ll continue to spend his nights on FaceTime with you, making you giggle, buying you lunch and sharing headphones (wired ones he bought after he ‘lost’ his Bluetooth ones) with you on late night walks together, blushing and grinning when your hands brushed against one another
— inumaki toge !
the fucking cutest little menace
at first is a little shy, grins so much when you talk to him and is always keeping an eye out for you wherever he is
is so so so sweet but also such a little shit about it 😭😭😭😭
the kind to tell you he knows a really nice place where they make you’re favorite meal but the only way he’ll tell you where it’s at is if you go with him
finds anyway possible to make you blush !!!!!!
“i really like your sweater inumaki” “salmon?” you nod with a small smile, there’s a small smirk on his face before he’s taking it off, the white t shirt underneath riding up along with it, his toned abdomen flashing before your eyes and your cheeks are burning
it doesn’t go unnoticed by the cursed speech user, a smirk on his face, he places the sweater if your hand, before promptly signing “it’ll look better on you anyway”
if you keep denying it despite very obviously wanting to take it he’ll lean in a little, press the sweater a little more into your hands and mumble “take the sweater” his eyes glimmering and you can’t even be upset that he used his cursed speech on you
likes being close to you as much as he can, will spend hours on end listening to you talk, pays so much attention to every word that leaves your mouth, he hangs on your every word
he isnt beyond using his cursed speech to get people to move just so he can sit next to you, even his poor yuta isn’t safe from his friend when it comes to you (he’s too enamored by you, can he really be blamed :(()
shows his feelings in every possible way: getting you things you like, spending time with you, enjoying your hobbies/interests, cheesy pickup lines, teasing you relentlessly
the kind of flirt that makes you blush and squeak telling him to stop but you secretly hope he doesn’t because it’s making you fall more and more for him
“toge are wearing shorts underneath your shorts?” “you’re checking me out a little too hard y/n, why are you noticing that” your face would flush as you tried to scramble for an excuse and the sorcerer will only sit back and have a lazy grin on his face
such a menace but he’s sure to balance the teasing out with endless showers of compliments to make you blush and hours on end of time spent together hoping that you’ll fall as hard as he is <3
— okkotsu yuta !
so sweet and shy and has no idea how to flirt so he immediately googles it
reads something about longing stares and thoughtful questions so he rolls with it, locking his phone and walking up to you
“hi y/n” he smiles, you grin back and return the greeting, “are there more doors or wheels in the world?” he looks at you, trying his best to imitate the guy in the picture he saw but is only met with a confused expression on your face, “are you gonna throw up on me or something?”
yuta never trusted google again
sticks to what toge and the others have told him about just being himself and trying to spend time with you
would walk you home or go with you places you didn’t wanna go alone (that’s how he got roped into going to the mall an entire day)
will help you with tasks you struggle with, let’s you know of things he thinks you might like, texts you often and loves to FaceTime you !!!
will absolutely hit you with the “i didn’t really understand this thing, do you think you could help me with it?”
laughs at all your jokes no matter how terrible and blushes when you talk to him
isn’t very straightforward with his flirting, everything is very subtle because he isn’t sure how to approach you about something this serious so he decides to just let you figure it out on your own
will compliment you but not too often because he doesn’t wanna seem weird, tells you he loves being around you and spending time with you
just a shy boy who is so tooth achingly sweet and wants to do his best to flirt and try to gain your affection (spoiler he’s had it since the first day you spoke to each other)
— fushiguro toji !
so crass it almost hurts
doesn’t flirt as much as he just smirks at you says suggestive things accompanied by a wink
“you look great in that dress, can’t help but wonder how it’d look on my floor” your face burns and the intensity of his stare is too much and you can only giggle and look away, toji towers over you and he loves using that to his advantage
will lean against the wall when listening to you talk, his head cocked to the side and a small smile on his face, his arms are crossed and his biceps and slightly flexed
flirting comes very easy to him, and he loves making you blush with the terrible pickup lines that work because of how attractive he is, always smiling when you look down because you can’t bear to look him in the eyes
calls you nicknames like “sweet thing” or “doll face” and he loves how you react each and every time
makes an effort to actually get to know you, asks about what you like and pays attention, bringing it up again after a while
will absolutely try to hide any softness behind his compliments and actions, covering it up with a crude joke or a sexually suggestive comment
will drive you around to wherever it is you wanna go and secretly hopes you’ll ask him to tag along so he can spend time with you (he will never admit to this even if you date)
is more touchy with you when hes flirting, will place a hand on your wait or back when you’re walking together, grabs your hand/wrist to follow him even when there’s not a crowd around
he’s just so hot and sexy he doesn’t really have to flirt let’s be real here yall
#gojo satoru headcanons#gojo satoru x reader#nanami kento headcanons#nanami kento x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro headcanons#itadori yuji x reader#itadori yuji headcanons#inumaki toge headcanons#inumaki toge x reader#okkotsu yuta x reader#okkotsu yuta headcanons#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji headcanons#gojo satoru fluff#nanami kento fluff#megumi fushiguro fluff#itadori yuji fluff#inumaki toge fluff#okkotsu yuta fluff#fushiguro toji fluff
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princess treatment with yuta
a/n: trying to focus more on things i want to write so again i apologize for trying to get back in the groove with things that aren’t requests :(
warnings- none, just the standard 10 bullet pointed headcanons :) fluff n stuff
MASTERLIST
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ this man is the type of guy to do what he wants. idk if you guys watched the documentaries they did, but yuta stated that if he wants to do something he’s going to do it. so princess treatment towards you is almost a nonnegotiable
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ yuta will not be shy about it either, maybe a little mischievous about it, but never shy. if he picks you up something small or big from the store he is telling you or sending you a photo of it with a snarky but sweet caption.
“picked this up for you 😘”
“you mentioned this. bought it. kiss please later 💪😜”
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ if he’s in the mood, when he’s telling you that he bought you something he’ll send a goofy ass selfie with it too.
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ do not get me started on this next thing… any concert you like or want to go to, he is buying for the best seats for you both. IF he can’t snake his way backstage. he wants you to be able to experience what you want to experience. and he wants you to have the best of the best. especially concert experience wise.
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ VERY confident in his princess treatment skills, because it’s just him providing and doing what he wants for you. you don’t complain at all, so he barely gets worked up if someone talks to you. why would he give a fuck about what they’re saying when he knows they could never provide for you like he does.
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ if you’re wearing bulky shoes, like platform boots, and you’re too tired to walk. yuta is carrying you. he doesn’t want your feet to get dirty, and he knows how expensive those platforms (he bought them for you) are so there’s no way he’s risking dropping them.
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ whatever clothing style you like, whether it be vintage or new, he is helping you achieve whatever look or style you want. same with hair, you want your hair a certain way? okay take his card.
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ adding onto the last bullet point…. let’s say you don’t want to go to a hairstylist because you have a bit more of an alternative style. yuta will learn how to do the haircut you want and do it for you. and if he’s feeling up to it, he’d let you cut his hair too.
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ he will let you put makeup on him. ESPECIALLY if you’re in a goth, emo, or v-kei subculture. yuta will sit you on his lap or lean on the counter you’re sat on and let you do his makeup. as long as he has his hands on you he doesn’t care :P
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ yuta picks up a lot of subtle matching things for you both, he likes to know that people are aware you belong to someone. it’s not a big deal if people come up and talk to you, that itself is an ego boost because he knows they’re a loser compared to him. however, he still enjoys knowing that you have something of him on you almost at all times <3
#nct 127 fluff#nct 127 imagines#nct 127#nct yuta#nct u#nct imagines#nct icons#nct zone#nct#nct x reader#nct scenarios#yuta nakamoto#yuta nakamoto imagines#yuta imagines#nakamoto yuta#nct yuta imagines#kpop
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Cult of the sacrificial lamb ♡
a/n: there is no actual lamb cult, I just like the title 😭 nsfw, mentioning their cock and titty sizes lmao
•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆
★poka and juniper the Valais black nose's: the twins are inseparable. You need to bathe one but it's not the other's bath time yet? Suck it up then, 'cause they're both going in the tub now. No guarantee you won't get splashed with water. Poka is colorblind, and juniper is.. interesting. Who knows what's wrong her. The only way you can tell the difference between them is through their eyes. Who's blind and who isn't.
Physical appearance: they're both dark skinned with loosely curly black hair. At this point you should give them a haircut. Juniper has green eyes and poka has blue eyes. Juniper is 130 lbs, while poka is 120 lbs. (Juni's packing some pretty big milkers, DD cup bra. Poka got a 6 incher) 5'5
★violet the harri: violet is a little violent. Her name suits her. Kinda. You could be busy doing your chores and she'd tackle whoever decided to come within a 15 foot radius of your location. She likes to bite too, they out multiple muzzles on her only for her to chew through them. She's only ever docile with you, kinda. Just ignore the multiple bite marks around your arms.
Physical appearance: B cup, 140lbs, white long hair, pale as fuck, and violet eyes, 5'3
★azucar the Columbia sheep: I was hesitant to put azucar here since she's 17, legally a minor. I won't do any nsfw content with her because it makes me uncomfy. She can be the sweetest hybrid you ever met or the meanest. No in-between. Her moods flip like a light switch, unpredictable. She'll cuss you out in Spanish and then t-bag you. Talk about a hormonal teenager
Physical appearance: c cup, 137 lbs, curly white hair, pale skin, black eyes, 5'4
★wehrner the American black belly: he has daddy vibes, like he could bend you over his knee and spank your ass because you didn't address him as 'sir'. Bastard. You often catch him shamelessly fapping behind a tree in the fields, even when you freeze and stare at his impressive dick he doesn't stop, instead, inviting you to join him. And that's the story of how he got the cone of shame.
Appearance: 8 incher, 150 lbs, 5'7, long black and brown hair, grey eyes, peach skin, large horns curled around his ears
★Sally the angora goat: 'it's earthworm Sally! Carrying diseases from Florida to Cali!' That is her theme song fr. She's been fooling around with the neighboring farm's ram's so much you doubt she isn't carrying a couple STDs and maybe rabies too. Although she is very bubbly and cheerful, she just starts so much unnecessary drama with the other animals
Appearance: curly long white hair, pale skin, red eyes, D cup, 120 lbs, 5'6
★opal the Tennessee fainting goat: she's so tiny, and mean. She bit your ass and chest so many times you're always looking around your surroundings before entering the fields. Although recently you discovered a rather popular way to stun her and run away
Appearance: black straight hair (I bet she has split ends), peach colored skin, tiny horns on her head, 90 lbs, 4'10, A cup
★sasha the Australian cashmere goat: Sasha is quiet and stoic, but she doesn't hesitate to step in Incase somebody wants to start a fight. She's Kim's second favorite female (you're the first ofcourse)
Appearance: fluffy platinum blonde hair, pale skin, black eyes, small horns sprout from her head, B cup, 152 lbs, 5'9
★kim the dutch landrace goat: Kim can either be your angle or your debil. Yes that misspelling was intentional. More than once has he tried humping you, even convincing the girls to try and help him, except you keep running away. STOP RUNNING AWAY. Is it so bad he wants to impregnate you with his children!?
Appearance: long silky black-blond hair, bro is ripped, large horns curl around his head, 160 lbs, 5'11, 7 incher
•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆
#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#queenie writes#queenie ocs#ocs#yandere#yandere female#yandere male#male yandere#yandere male x reader#Yandere female x reader#Yandere x you#yandere drabble#Yandere intro#Yandere hybrids#Yandere goats#Yandere sheep#Yandere hybrids x reader#Poly yanderes#Nonbinary yandere
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steve zombie au —you and steve celebrate his birthday with a frank discussion and some new fun. [5k]
fem!reader, afab!reader, fluff, MDNI smut (hand job, implied oral), cw for mentioned circumstances of the apocalypse; food insecurity, danger, zombies, nightmares, injury
April 29th starts exceedingly warm. Summer is fast approaching, and it's being felt all over The College community. You can forget zombies — a world without air conditioning is much scarier.
You're kidding, obviously. Geeks are scary. Both for what they are, slimy decomposing husks that want more than anything to chew on you like a dog toy, and what they could be, the end of your life. There have been times where you wished for something of the same calibre, but these days you have someone you want to hold onto.
And that someone is turning twenty three. He's still sleeping, the limp hair in his eyes freshly shorn. He doesn't know that you know it's his birthday today, but you do, so you'd traded with Mel the used-to-be hairdresser to get you both haircuts. You would've traded just for him —her services aren't cheap— if you thought he'd ever let you, or ever get one without you.
It's exactly that reason that you'd wanted him to have a haircut in the first place, and why you want him to have a good birthday. He's so loving, and sweet, and good, he deserves to feel special. He needs to know how much you appreciate him.
You're hoping you've prepared enough to do that.
You brush the sweat damp hair out of Steve's eyes as he begins to stir. You've been up for hours, now, and it's a credit to how much you like him that you would wake up early on a day you could've slept in, sweaty but safe in the circle of his arm. You've washed up for the morning so he doesn't have to wake to your oily face, and you press a spearmint-fresh kiss to his cheek as his eyelashes strain.
"Hey," he says, rough with sleep.
You love his voice in the mornings. "Hey, handsome. Good morning."
You lay your cheek against his pillow, watching as he opens his eyes. Your hand roves over his naked torso selfishly, feeling the soft indentations of muscle. He's put on weight since you got here. It's amazing.
"It's fucking–" He stretches out beside you, his sentence scythed in two by a low groan. "S'fucking so hot. I just woke up and it's so hot."
"I think it's finally summer."
"I don't know," he argues lightly, "it shouldn't be this hot. Not for another two months, Jesus."
He traces your face with his eyes as he talks, and as his sentence finishes he pauses his searching. He brings a hand up between your two bodies and rubs his thumb against the highest point of your cheek. "I guess it's almost May."
"It's April 29th," you say softly.
His lashes come together slowly, a subtle suspicious squint souring his otherwise serene expression. "Robin told you?"
"Yes, she did. Happy birthday, baby."
He looks at you a little longer. You like to be looked at by Steve because you know he's thinking nice things as he does, but for those long, stretched seconds you worry you've given him a reason to wrinkle his nose. Maybe it's cringy to be romantic about it. After all, he'd kept his birthday to himself the entire time you'd known him.
"Thank you."
He tugs you in for a hug, so tight you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your own.
"You're welcome," you say, words smothered under his cheek.
He clings to you. You can't count how many hugs you've shared after so long together. Even before Steve told you he loved you on the floor of this very room, before he asked if you were together in a cold car shivering for your lives in the middle of an abandoned highway, he was hugging you when you needed them, or when he needed you.
You feel your eyes warm thinking about it, until the heat becomes tears, and the tears roll down over the bridge of your nose. You push your head as far as you can over Steve's shoulder, your hands hugging behind his head to keep him with you if he tries to move. You're selfish, and you don't deserve him but you have him. It counts for something.
"I love you," you say, tears making your voice all wobbly. Cicadas call from the open window, and the earth seems deathly still. Steve is quiet for a while and you worry you've put him off crying on his special day, but then his arm shifts against your back and his embrace tightens again.
"I can't believe it took me," —he presses his forehead to yours— "twenty three years to find you."
"You found me ages ago," you remind him, fighting for your life because isn't that the most romantic thing, isn't he the sweetest guy?
"Are you crying?" he asks, frowning.
"Not really. I just love you."
He holds your face in his palm and gives you a gentle shake. "I love you. But you know that. It's embarrassing how much you know that."
"Embarrassing how much you love me?" you ask, poking for extra compliments. Again, you're selfish.
Again, it counts for something.
Steve pushes your shoulders back into the bed and follows with his weight on top of you, his chest pressed to your chest and an elbow by your arm so his face doesn't smash into yours. You're a little daunted —Steve doesn't come on to you so suddenly, but it's his birthday, and you just asked him how much he loves you. Maybe he's excited.
His laugh fans over your face.
"Sorry," he murmurs, "I saw the look on your face." He turns his head to kiss your cheek. "I love you so much. That part isn't embarrassing, at all, I just mean I would've had the shit kicked out of me in high school for being whipped."
"You're whipped?" you ask lightly, trying to maintain casualness as his lips dip lower. His kisses show how he's still far from being properly awake, mouthing at the column of your throat one slovenly inch at a time.
"I'm worse than that," he says, his lips parting over your pulse.
His teeth scratch.
"Steve–" You laugh as he sucks your skin between his teeth, not his worst hickey but the start of a sore one if you let him finish. "Baby."
He pulls away, his words scorching against you, "You sound flustered."
"I am! You're biting me."
"I'm not not biting you," he agrees, kissing his hickey. It won't last, he hadn't worked at it for very long, but it turned you to jelly under his big hands. "Sorry, I like when you do that."
"Do what?"
"You relax," he says with a smile.
"I relax with you."
It's true and untrue. It takes you time to decompress, for months you hadn't felt safe, and then things had happened to rob you of that feeling again, but Steve's persistence and insistence that nothing is going to happen is one you believe. You crawl into bed with him and sometimes it takes an hour, but you relax. You sleep well with him.
"I know," he says, pulling up to meet your eyes again, "but when I kiss you like that you go somewhere else. I'm not saying it to be cheesy, although it's definitely cheesy and I'm a romantic weapon." He smiles at your smiling. "I'm trying to describe it to you but I got a C in English and I never went to college."
You laugh again. He would've been hard pushed to go, considering the circumstances.
"We're in college now," you say.
The community that you live in has been nicknamed The College. It was a smaller college campus once upon a time, and now it homes a couple hundred people of all ages trying to make a life.
"Let me brush my teeth and then I'm gonna kiss you stupid," Steve says, climbing off of you.
There isn't an ensuite in your room but there is a small sink, and he stands there in his boxers and short-sleeved t-shirt bent over the basin. He puts paste on his toothbrush and tries to talk to you around brushing, his hair rumpled and sticking out at the back, his boxers lower on one hip.
You're trying to talk back to him, but you've noticed something you hadn't meant to.
Steve has a bulge.
Steve usually has a bulge, you're not stupid, you know your boyfriend is well-endowed. It would be impossible not to notice, you've woken countless times to something warm pressed against your thigh, but you honestly hadn't cared. You and Steve haven't had sex, and that doesn't bother either of you, you know it with surety. Your relationship has always weighed heavily on other things. But you have to wonder if he wants it. You know you do, in moments like this where he's had you pressed down into a box and nipped at your neck, suggesting the salacious to the shell of your ear.
He swills out his mouth and washes his face as boys do, rough and quick, water dripping down his neck and soaking the hairs surrounding his face.
You have your heart in your throat as he slides back into bed.
"You have your shift soon?" he asks, hiking up on his pillow and pulling you toward his arms.
"I swapped with Shirley to have today off, it's your birthday."
"Ah, but when I gave you that necklace for your birthday there was no need."
"It's different."
Steve kisses the top of your head, sounding fondly defeated as he says, "It's not different."
You turn in his hold, head by his elbow as you look up at him with a question you don't wanna ask in your eyes. He stares down at you.
You shift your leg against him, and you can't miss the slight twitch of his mouth. Like he enjoyed the feeling.
"Stevie," you murmur. "I have something I want to talk about, but I think I'll probably die of shame before I can say it out loud."
"Is it your period? I already told you it shouldn't bother you, honey, it's natural–"
"Progressive," you say with a laugh, "but no, I know you're not a big baby about it." The only thing that bothers Steve about it is that you're in pain when it happens.
"I don't know what else would embarrass you like that," he says.
"We don't have to talk about it. It's your birthday, I want to celebrate," you say, regretting your honesty.
“It’s my birthday and I wanna talk about it,” he says. “Hit me with it. Tell me tell me tell me tell me–”
"No," you mumble, knowing you'll have to tell him now.
"Please?" he asks.
His tone slows everything down. Your mixed emotions, your apprehension and nerves, your excitement over his birthday, they slip away into the palm of his hand where it strokes under your breast. He takes it all.
You look up into his face and try to look serious.
"How come we don't have sex?"
Steve is noticeably thrown for a loop. His hand lightens its hold.
"Do you want the short answer?" he asks slowly. "Or the long one?"
"Why are there two answers?"
Steve is quiet for a second. You sit up some, not entirely but enough to feel as though he's hugging you rather than acting as a place for you to rest your head. He helps you without asking, hand like a brand considering the topic of conversation.
"I just–" A muscle in his jaw moves as you talk. "I know sometimes I can– that you want to. I mean, that your, um–"
"That I'm obviously excited," he says.
You both cringe, and then you both laugh quietly.
"Yeah. And you've never tried to do anything. I just wondered if maybe you don't want to, ever, or if you're waiting for me. If you are waiting for me…"
"You're ready," Steve says.
"Yeah."
"I kind of knew that already, babe." Steve's fingers curl in toward your rib, knuckles resting against you, an arm behind your back. His face dips down to yours, and he kisses your cheek fondly and almost too softly, you barely feel it. "Not that you're obvious, but, you know, we've been together for a long time. I'd be an idiot if I couldn't read you."
"So why haven't you asked me?"
"Why haven't you asked me, 'til today?" He sounds immeasurably happy, now, his tone golden and silky smooth as pure honey, murmuring. "Being with you has never really been about that. I mean, we never could've on the road, how could you relax there?"
"Maybe it would've relaxed me."
"Maybe, but I kind of assumed it wouldn't. And I… I didn't want you to think you didn't have a choice, either, like I was looking after you so you had to do stuff you didn't want to do."
"I wouldn't have thought that."
"Good, then I was less of a dick than I thought." He pauses, breathes in the skin of your cheek as though it smells like something other than hand-soap turned face wash. "There were times when I really wanted to. But I guess most of the time I wasn't thinking about it, and then we got here and," —he smiles against your cheek— "I didn't want you to think I was saying I loved you and that having sex would make a difference." He turns bashful. "It sounds stupid now I'm actually telling you."
"It doesn't," you say, immediate and soft with awe. "It doesn't."
"Then you weren't safe, and you were having nightmares all the time, but now you're doing better and lately I've been thinking the same thing. Why aren't we?"
You turn your face to his. "Well? Do you have an answer?"
His lips pout up and his eyes squint a little as he nods, a melodramatic defeat. "The short answer. I can't find a box of fucking condoms."
You're speechless.
You cough.
"...You've been looking?" you ask.
"Sometimes. I looked in the mall pharmacy but they only had finger condoms. What am I gonna do with one of those?" He laughs at his own joke.
You're thankful it isn't awkward. Thank whoever for your stupid beautiful boyfriend who cares about you more than anything. Too chivalrous to make a move but horny enough to look for condoms when his life is in danger.
You settle your arms heavily over his shoulders and look him in the eye. "I really don't think that would work for you, Stevie."
"You're flirting."
"Is it working?"
He touches the tip of his nose to yours. "It always works, but I really can't find any rubbers, I didn't want to ask you without being able to deliver. We're stuck."
"I mean, maybe we could just… not use one?" you ask, genuinely wanting to hear his opinion.
The side of Steve's nose touches yours, his breath warm on your cheek. "I thought about it. About asking you, but I just need you to be safe." He pulls back. "You couldn't have a baby."
"I don't know. I don't think I could now, but we'd make it work."
"Do you want one?" he asks.
You think about the obvious. It's too fucking dangerous. Pregnancy before the apocalypse was dangerous. Pregnancy now is so much worse. It could kill you, and if it didn't labour could, and if it didn't and you did have a baby, that baby would live this life. You're too young to make that decision, you think. And if none of it mattered and you and Steve were a couple in a regular world, would you want one then? So soon?
"No," you say. It feels good to say, because Steve will support every decision you make and you know it.
"No. I don't want you to have one either." He licks his lips. "Maybe someday?"
You smile at his hope. It cracks a yawning gap down your chest to the pit of your stomach.
"Maybe someday," you say.
He kisses you. Chaste but somehow sharp, pressing at the same time. Not trying to initiate anything he can't finish, but now that it's on the table the implied what-if feels heavy between you.
You hug him as the kiss breaks, your lips by his ear. "You could pull out?" you whisper. You love him and he's amazing but it's still a mortifying question.
"I don't think that always works. Is it worth it?" he asks.
Not really. Not if you aren't prepared to make big choices.
His arms wrap around you, and his hand rubs your back. "It's not like it'll never happen, honey."
"Steve," you say softly, hand running down his back, "what if we did other stuff? Sex isn't just… I could make you feel good." You're trying hard not to sound crude, harder still not to sound as scared of his rejection as you feel. He's more than allowed to say no, but you hope he won't. You hope he wants you.
"You could…" He swallows. You hear it loud and clear.
"I could make you feel good," you repeat, lowering your voice. "What do you think, handsome?"
"You don't have to do anything you're unsure of," he says. His breathlessness has your heart leaping in your chest.
You pull back to see his face, find his cheeks warm as you press your palms to them. "I'm not unsure. If you want it, I want it. How do you feel?"
"If you… if you change your mind," he murmurs.
"I'll tell you," you say. You give him a look, the kind of bright-eyed, loving expression you save for special moments with him, pouring all your adoration and trust and wanting out for him to see. You lift your chin in question, and when he kisses you, you take it for a soft yes.
You kiss him while you stand on knees, while you ease yourself over one thigh. Your knee rubs up against him and he shudders into the kiss, his hands leaping to your waist.
"Do you," —you break away from his lips but can't stop yourself from dispersing honeyed pecks between words— "ever do anything by yourself? When I'm away? When I'm at the kitchen and you don't have to go, have you–"
You're asking because you have a great suspicion that he has —one time you came home and he was so, so needy, clingy and sweet and relaxed. Another you might have found him midway, but he hid it well.
Steve nods hurriedly and steals another kiss. "Just a few times," he says.
"How do you do that, sweetheart?" you ask, your hand trailing down his chest achingly slow.
"I– I lay on your side of the bed."
You kiss him harder than you mean to. "Why?" you ask into his lips.
"It smells like you–"
His hands roving up and down your back give you more than enough confidence to grasp at him wildly, your kissing suddenly, painfully desperate, your top lip on fire as Steve pulls your face down to his. You don't have the wherewithal to speak as your hand coast past his t-shirt to the rising tent of his boxers.
Foreign and familiar at once. You've seen Steve naked a hundred times having lived in close quarters with him for as long as you have, and if Steve hadn't seen you before, all those times he's had to sit in the shower room with you lest you panic someone else is in the room would've made sure. You know what the other looks like bare. What you don't know is how they feel, and how they want to be touched.
You reluctantly break your bruising kiss, resting your temple at his cheek as you look down. You slowly, slowly let your fingertips stroke down the line of his cock, beside yourself with giddy excitement as Steve moans breathlessly in your ear.
"Fuck," he says.
You've barely touched him. You flatten your hand as you approach the bottom of his length, pressing your thumb gently into the swelling of his balls. He hisses at your touching and you look up worriedly. "Sorry, am I not supposed to touch there?" you ask, whispering though there's no one else around to hear it.
"Please," he says. He cuts himself off with a laugh, his head tilting back in pleasure as you put your hand back. "Please, touch anywhere."
"It feels good?"
"Please, honey, keep going," he says.
You rub the length of his cock over his soft boxers, near awed as it hardens. You knew he was well endowed, and you've seen him hard and pressing against his jeans, but it feels different when it's under your hand. You drag your nose against the side of his throat, whispering, "Finger condoms really would've been useless," and laugh as he starts to laugh himself, breathless, throaty chuckling that lights a flame in your stomach.
You start to kiss his neck slowly. Your hand is curious but not shy as it works up and down the length of him. Steve readjusts your grip, the pressure of it, his hand gentle on yours.
Your face smushed to his neck, you watch what he's showing you and try to commit it to memory. It's tugging, almost. Kind but with a firm hand.
"Can I see?" you ask.
"Please." Steve is quick to pull his boxers down, exposing the pale length, his ruddy tip, the tiniest bead of precum shiny as it oozes from the head's slit. Your breath catches at the sight of his hand, his long fingers encapsulating the thick girth of his cock and tugging up. "Fuck," he says again.
"Can I do it?" you ask. "Or is it–"
"Honey, it's okay, you can do whatever you want to me," he reassures. "Just do it, baby, please."
He rarely ever calls you baby. "Poor boy," you murmur.
Steve laughs, as if to say, Fuck you, but he's distracted from his plight when you wrap your hand around his warm cock. He pushes your face into his neck instinctively as you start to move against him.
You've enough sense to spit in your hand and work it around. He's hot, heavy in your hand, tip of his cock to the belly button if you press it toward his torso.
"I don't think I'll last long," he warns.
"How do I– do you want me to be gentler?"
He bucks into your hand with a shiver, groaning like the suggestion is agonising.
"Should I use my mouth?" you ask.
Steve really does sound pained, then, his head falling back, his abdomen rising and falling quick against your bicep. "I'm trying to last, baby." It's as though he's begging for something without saying what he wants.
You try to distract him a little, prolong the inevitable as your fingers flex around his cock. "Kiss me," you say, using a tone you hope —you know— will hook his attention. "Please, Stevie, kiss me?"
He drags his head up, cheeks as red as the ruddy head of his cock, the heat practically emanating from him as he gives you what you want. These kisses are sloppy rather than messy, lavish rather than tired. Your tongue presses at the seam of his lips and your head turns heavily to the left, sighing into his mouth as his spit paints your lips. His cock leaps in your hand, and you speed up just a touch, the skin bunching ever so slightly with your ministrations. It gets harder and harder for him to kiss you as his climax builds, his breath coming in pants, his thighs and stomach tightening in anticipation. You pull away, letting him shudder and whine by your ear, his hand like a vice around your forearm that's not helping but holding you. You push kisses into his jaw, the skin under his ear, and weave the hand that isn't wrapped around his cock into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly as you confess.
"I love you," you say, nipping at his neck, printing red crescents in your wake, "I love you," you repeat, hot breath fanning over your hotter kisses. "I love you," you mouth, resting your forehead against his neck.
His head clamps down on top of yours and breath catches, held, his hand practically crushing your wrist as frantic pleasure builds. You speed up even if you're not sure that you should, and it must be the right thing to do —Steve goes white out still and tense as stone, your eyes widening a touch as the first string of cum spills over your fingers. Something snaps in him and he's moaning like he might cry into your hair, breathless panting as sticky cum bumps down over your fingers with each pump, his cock twitching uselessly in your grip.
You soften your grip but don't slow until he gasps and says, "Honey– ah, ah, don't, don't. Please, that's so–" He laughs deliriously. "I'm gonna pass out."
You take your hand from his cock, not grossed out or anything but definitely not sure what to do now. Steve's all but collapsed beside you, his torso sliding behind you into the pillows, twisted up and breathing hard as he wraps his arms around your waist. It's an odd position, not the cuddling you'd pictured, but you're content to let him cling to you if he needs to. He breathes in harsh breaths against the small of your back.
You watch with a burning pit in your stomach as a last bead of cum wets his cock and seeps into his boxers.
"Did that feel okay?" you ask. His cock twitches again at the sound of your voice. You'll have to ask him what that means.
Steve doesn't answer you straight away. He sits up, and he tucks his cock away, and then he sees the mess he'd made of your hand and laughs. He's definitely high from the pleasure of cumming like that after so long, 'cos he grabs your hand and wipes it clean on the literal t-shirt he's wearing.
"Steve, I could've washed it," you complain, laughing with him.
"I'll wash the shirt," he says. He keeps your hand in his.
"Did it feel good?" you ask again. Low, you're shy to have to ask twice, worried he avoided the question. It obviously felt good, but you want the reassurance that you did it well.
He pulls your hand to his chest and leans down for a kiss. "I'm really worried we shouldn't have done that. That was like, pot. You're gateway drugging me." He kisses you again, and he rubs your hand with his thumb. "Felt good, honey, couldn't you tell? You did– you did so good, honey. It felt fucking good."
You descend into another round of messy kissing. He must feel the shape of your pleased smile, as he smiles too, and it's very difficult to kiss each other seriously when your lips are hardly touching.
"Can I ask for something else?" he asks, pulling away.
Your heart skips, 'cos you think he might ask to fuck you, and after all his pretty sounds and the heat between your thighs, you'll probably say yes, and that would be a terrible fucking idea without any protection—
"Let me go down on you," he says.
You gawp. "What?"
"Let me go down on you, sweetheart, please."
"I didn't even go down on you," you say shyly, heart beating in your stomach now. You shove your hand between your legs impulsively.
"If you went down on me I would've embarrassed myself," he says. He follows your hand, his own slipping between your legs. "Only if you want to."
"You don't have to, Steve, I just wanted you to feel good–"
"This is, like, the best day of my life," he says, "or second best, because the first time you told me you loved me was a fucking immense feeling–"
"'Immense–'"
"–I want you to feel like I just felt," he interrupts your interrupting. His eyes are imploring and his hands are soft where they roam. "We can stop if you don't like it, but I think you'll like it," he continues, rubbing the inside of your thigh teasingly. "If you want it, please let me."
You nod quickly and pull him in for a kiss, though you pause when his lips are close and whisper, "I get to go down on you, then?"
To which your boyfriend groans and kisses you roughly. Your lips are tingling from so many.
"I guess it is my birthday," he says, with a faux-bashfulness that has you both giggling.
Later, at Robin's, when you're sure "We just got each other off repeatedly," has been written across your forehead for everyone else to see, and a small party of the older friends have gathered for a drink in Steve's honour, Christopher tosses a rectangle in Steve's direction. It slides right into his lap.
You both look down.
"Happy birthday, Harrington," Christopher says. "Don't worry, they shrink to fit."
It's a box of condoms.
Steve glares at Christopher for the public humiliation, but he puts the box of condoms in his pocket, and everybody gives you shit for it when you're making excuses to leave barely an hour later.
—
thank you for reading!! I get asked to write about their first time more than anything else which isn't a bad thing, I really love that people like this au and that they want to see that, but I haven't personally been in the mood for that! I figured I'd post this even though it stops at hand stuff / isn't an explicit scene of them fucking because it was gathering dust and also because it hopefully answers some questions I get sent often about their sex lives! maybe I can write them fucking in the future but for now I hope you enjoy :D <3
#steve zombie!au#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#stranger things fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x afab!reader
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EXPERIMENTAL - Konig Fic Pt 3
Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.
Warnings: Sexual Content, NSFW, bondage, DOM!Konig, size kink, light spanking, unprotected sex, possessive!konig, praise kink, the mask stays on 😈, Reader x Konig, injury, needle torture, PTSD, talk of standard war stuff, Non-con Voyeurism. No use of y/n,
Reader gender/sex is incomprehensible cause I do it for the girls, the gays, and the theys
Word Count: 10,2k
(tbh you probably don’t need to read the first two parts so if you just wanna read this slutty chapter it should be fine lol but if you do i’ll link them)
AO3
PART ONE
PART TWO
NSFW under the cut
You’re praying that he’s getting this.
There’s a million things that could go wrong - Konig not being near his device and you’re just streaming into an empty room. Or Ghost’s device wasn’t the one that was synced with Konig’s, maybe one of the matching copies or an earlier prototype. Or worse - Konig found out about the video and leaves you to your demise as he rightfully should.
You swallow as you watch Mohawk put the his phone away in his pocket, hoping his screen wasn’t exposed to the feed’s camera, “Thanks for making me have that on my phone, by the way. Do you know how many times I was forced to watch this?”
Stop talking about it!
“What else do you want to know?” You’re more willing to give out top-secret government intel than let Konig find about that fucking video.
Ghost senses you’ve been holding back on him, and he tilts his head down to look at you from above the projection, “What’s it do?”
“Everything.” You answer, “Anything I tell it to. It’s like VR.” There’s a bit of a slur to your words. You’re still aware enough to manage the long-con, but your eyelids are getting heavier. Just have to hold out awhile longer, juggle a few things at the same time. Don’t let Konig find out about how you ended up here, but make sure he knows you’re here. Don’t let skull boy and stupid-haircut find about the transmission, but don’t let them lose enough interest to turn the device off. Don’t give away too many government secrets, but don’t give out too little to keep the soldiers from doing anymore permanent damage to your brain.
And manage all of that while coping with the current level of brain damage you have.
They look at each other, trying to figure out if they’re satisfied with your answer.
That’s good. Just keep stalling.
Everything was threatening to crash down around you, but there’s a glimmer of hope so minuscule, you think you could actually pull it off if all the pieces fall together.
You’re no longer giving up.
We can fix this. Fix all of it. Fix your mess.
You’re going to give it a fair shot, you decide, and you’ll leave it up to the universe.
Ghost cocks his head, those intimidating eyes boring into you, “And what things do you tell it to do?” You can tell he’s irritated with the meaningless answer. You steer in the opposite direction.
You give a drawn out hum, “Identify the bad guys. Heat map, heart beats ‘n all that.” You’re trying to keep your thoughts together, but there’s too many to keep up with, and the concussion still has you in its hazy clutches.
Another idea, a back up plan, you’ll call it. You can’t tell if it’s a stupid idea or not, but you’re slipping and fast, “Can I get a smoke? I’m feening.” You give a smile, the residual of the painkillers making it easy to appear unassuming.
“No. What else does it do?” Ghost is straight to the point, and it reminds you of Konig, and you wish Ghost would stop doing that because you’re trying to do something here.
Another drunken hum, “What’d’ya want it to do? I can do it.” You wave your hand at him, casually flashing your restraints so Konig would get a clear view.
Ghost steps towards you and grabs the front of your gown, yanking your face inches from his, “What does it fucking do?”
A proud smile crosses your face, “Not your mom, ‘cause I got that covered myself.”
Mohawk puts a hand of warning on Ghost’s shoulder, reminding him not to get too violent with you.
Ghost ignores the warning, his fist connecting with your temple before you had a chance to brace yourself.
Skull boy packs quite a punch.
You’re reset for a moment, blinded by a bright white and the ring in your ears makes a blaring encore.
You can tell by the warm and wet feeling under your bandages that the gash from Ghost’s gun had split open.
You don’t know how long it takes you to get your bearings, but once you do you’re almost thankful Ghost had rocked you.
You’re hoping Konig can see the urgency of the situation and your injured brain being rattled around your skull gives you an excuse to lie motionless, hindering interrogation. They know you’re not useful to them when you incapable of coherency. It’s why Stupid-Haircut is trying so hard to keep Ghost from injuring you to bad. It’s why they went through the trouble of nursing an enemy back to health. If Ghost turns your brain to soup like you’re so clearly provoking him to do, you won’t be able to tell them what they want to know.
Okay, painful change of plans.
Instead of forcing yourself to stay clear enough to manage all the details through the fog of the concussion, you’re going to force yourself into ignorance by weaponizing Ghost’s temperament against him. It’s in their best interest to keep you cognizant, and it’s in your best interest to get Ghost irritated enough to torture you until you’re unable to speak.
It’s going to be brutal, but you’ve been feeling nothing but pain at the hands of him, and you don’t think you’re far off from the cozy clutches of unconsciousness as it is - that it won’t be long until you’re unable to feel anything.
Always the masochist.
You can’t help but smile, even though it all. A genuine one, toothy and face-wrinkling, one that wasn’t for anyone else in the room, but didn’t care if they saw. It wasn’t a desperate attempt to relieve your discomfort. Not a waste of your precious energy lulling strangers into their sense of comfort. Not a weak effort to influence the opinion of you belonging to whoever happens to be in your vicinity.
You feel like you’re watching yourself descend into madness, powerless against the euphoric feeling that floods through you. Warmth coasting through your veins. You could tell it wasn’t the drugs, the concussion and the growing list of other injuries, or even the idea Konig may be rushing to your rescue any minute now.
It was because in this moment, despite everything that has happened, you can’t help but be enamored with yourself.
You?
Of course. Of course it took these conditions to pull it out of you.
It’s always the hard way with you, wasn’t it?
“If you can’t restrain yourself maybe you should let me handle it.”
“Back down, Johnny.” Ghost warns in that low, cautionary tone that can’t help leave the receiver wondering just what horrible punishment would occur if they pushed. He doesn’t even have to look at Johnny to hammer the intimidation into him. It’s only accompanied by a low extend of arm vaguely in his direction.
Neither you or Ghost noticed the way Johnny’s eye twitched or lip snarled, but he heeds Ghost’s warning.
Ghost’s eyes lock on you, and you think everyone in the room has caught on to the predicament they’re in.
Johnny, who’s been up to speed since the start, walking the tightrope of being respectful to his superior without letting him damage the value of his informant.
Ghost, who’s long lost his respect for you before he even laid eyes on you, and since meeting you has only been sinking deeper into his hatred of you. He’s used to getting information from soldiers. Out of powerful individuals that could handle a hit and that stay conscious during an interrogation session. The ones smart enough not to antagonize and beg for the brutality. Ones that grit their teeth an at least try and suck it up to maintain a scrap of dignity. Not you. He knows he needs your brain but he’d be happy to put an end to all of it, right now. Pull the plug on your project the manual way. If they can’t have it, no one can. Maybe he’d get what he wants along the way if you’re coherent enough to squeak it out, but that’d just be a bonus in his eyes.
And you. Wonderfully brilliant, even if occasionally misguided, and as much as you hate to believe it sometimes, incredibly lovable, even if Ghost is looking at you like he wants to put your head on a stick. But you don’t care about that dummy. No, you’re not even looking at him or his Johnny. Even if he takes your life from you right now, you think you could accept that. Not for any necessarily suicidal reasons, even though the concussion has definitely knocked some dark feelings loose.
You close your eyes, and the smile still hasn’t left your face, even if your sore muscles were pulling on the edges of your headache.
“Too much morphine.” Ghost says, to no one in particular, not hesitating as he forcefully grabs your forearm and digs his thumb into the skin encasing your IV needle.
You immediately hiss through gritted teeth, but he doesn’t hesitate as he takes the beginning of the needle with his other hand, roughly poking around in your arm.
You try to pull away but he’s got a grip tight enough to force your arm extended. You’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.
He removes the needle entirely before puncturing you in a different spot on your inner elbow, shaking the needle violently beneath your flesh. You gasp, pulling against his iron grip with what little strength you have.
“Where’d your smile go?” Ghost asks in a neutral tone, his eyes dead of emotion as he removes the needle before stabbing another hole in your arm.
You let out a yelp, eyes screwed shut as your other hand jerks against the restraints. You’re too focused on the sickening feeling of skewered veins to make up a good comeback.
He does it again, and your fists clench and a high grunt escapes through gritted teeth.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to set an IV.” Ghost says dryly, his eyes cold behind the mask as he thrashes the needle.
“Keep practicing.” You hiss, pitch warbling through the pain.
And he does.
It’s brutal, Ghost flaying the crease of your arm repeatedly. It’s been less than a minute but you’re sure the torture started a lifetime ago. You just have to take it, it’s all you can do. Your verbal stalling wasn’t cutting it, so you’re just going to have to opt for this instead and hope you can piss him off enough to get just a little too violent with you.
When he’s done, he jams the needle back where it was, managing to lay it back in your vein. “There we go.”
You study each other for a brief moment, before he leans in close, so close his projection becomes obscured through your head. You’re eye to eye now, nothing between you two but the mask your nose is almost brushing up against.
He grabs your face, his gloved fingers digging into your jaw with the same force he had held your forearm. He holds your head still and all you can do is look at him, brows pinched in fury as your nails dig into your palms, fists fight the restraints.
His eyes twitch as they flicker between each of yours.
“I am going to ruin you.”
You shake your head in an attempt to free your jaw from his clutches, but his grip is strong and he makes a point of forcing your head still, looking down his mask at you.
“You can give me all the information you like. I’m not stopping until it’s finished.”
Ghost finally lets you go with a rough shove. He takes the device from his ear and his wrist, discarding them both over his shoulder. Johnny catches the ear piece with a slight fumble, and the wrist remote hits the ground with a ting, rattling obnoxiously as it rolls to a stop. Johnny’s got his hands full as he yells but you you don’t bother listening to what he’s saying.
You’re too busy relaxing into the attack as you let Ghost carry you to death’s door.
———————————————————-
Even wincing is painful.
You're finally stirred awake by the feeling of a gloved hand on the back of your neck.
It’s hard to open your eyes, and when you finally do you see him, from the chest up, he looks just like a just a blurry figure. Two of them, actually, doubled vision multiplying the lone man that stood before you.
Even with your damaged vision you can tell it’s Konig, making out the telling shapes of his gear and those biceps you’ve studied so close you could pick them out of a lineup.
The hood that always intimidated you, but now fills you with a comfort like no other. You can see the light of your projection shielding his eyes.
A blinding bright light surrounds him, haloing your vision and it hurts, but you can help but keep your weary gaze fixed on him inbetween slow blinks.
You’re sure you’re dead. That you’re passing over and this is your brain manifesting some hallucination to comfort you as you transition.
You reach out to touch his hood, just to see if you can. You wanted to see if you could feel him, the researcher in you testing the potentials of your delusions. The restraints cut you short for a final time, before Konig quickly cuts your hands free with a knife. He takes your weak extended hand in his and you can feel it.
It engulfs yours, the scratchy feel of his glove wrapped around your hand, and he feels real.
His other hand retracts from your neck and reaches up to turn his projection off to get a clearer look at you. His hand comes back from under his hood and moves carefully to the side of your face, his thumb tracing a bruise on your cheek. His can’t believe what he’s seeing, his eyes darting around to the various injuries plastered on you.
“Meine liebe…”
He says, and you’re not sure if he’s speaking a different language or if your Ghost gave you dyphasia.
“Who did this?” He asks, horrified as he realizes there’s anyone out there cruel enough to do this to you.
You thought his stares were scary before, but the way his eyes glaze and turn cold as they follow the swells and bruises marking your face appears animalistic. It shoots a feeling in your gut so unnerving it confirms that you’re definitely not experiencing some euphoric deathbed hallucination.
When you don’t answer, your eyes just flicking around his features as you adjust, he asks again.
“Who did this?!”
His voice strikes an urgent and menacing tone the second time. On your recording he had been able to see Ghost’s point of view, but not Ghost. A front row seat to watch you get brutally attacked but not being able to identify the aggressor himself.
Always determined.
You reach up with your other hand to your saving grace, and place it on his upper arm, “Don’t leave.”
He hears how delicate your voice is, how you barely have the power to speak. How your hand quivered as you reached out to him, how you had squeezed his arm with what little might you had to encourage him to stay, to join you in a world where your aggressors and injuries didn’t matter, none of it mattered.
And how can he say no to you?
His eyes soften again and you can’t help but smile at the man behind the hood. You’re smile immediately turns to a wince as it forces an uncomfortable tug on your fresh injuries.
“Come here.” He says softly and he picks you out of the hospital bed with little effort. He’s got one arm secured around your back and the other is under the crease of your knees like he’s carrying you from the alter. He tilts you gently so your head can rest on his chest while he carries you to safety.
You’re wondering if you really are dead after all. It’s too good to be true, your plan working and Konig carrying you from the danger like he’s a fireman rescuing you from a burning building. You can discern the capabilities of his muscles as he holds you tight. You’re not even slowing him down, he’s still able to hurry through the hallways, guided to the exit by your device without fault.
The jostling hurts, but he’s doing his best to hold you steady, and being in his arms, resting the less injured side of your forehead against him, makes the pain all worth it.
You can hear the sounds of gunshots in the distance, not even your impaired hearing could muffle the loud pops. They must have had a full team come out to do an extraction. You thought it was a lot of to-do for little ol’ you.
Konig gets you to nearest exit, carefully managing the door as he opens it to ensure it didn’t hit you, and carries you out to the getaway vehicle, setting you down across the backseat like you’re made of glass.
“Liebe, they need me.” He looks back to the building, “Can you stay here?”
You give a weak nod, and he gives your hand a squeeze.
“I’ll be back, I promise.”
And you have his word.
He rushes back into the building while you try and rest in the backseat.
————————————-
The safe house was incredibly depressing. A rundown little two-room shack in the country, decorated with outdated appliances and furniture. The wall paper is peeling from the ceiling and you’re not sure if it was originally a drab yellow or if it had been stained from years of abuse. You can tell no one’s been around to take care of the water damage, judging from the large brown stains spotting the ceiling. There’s a kitchenette in the corner with an oven, a fridge that hums too loudly, and a microwave that appears never to have been cleaned. A worn beige couch outfitted with two dusty orange cushions that sag with age. A few generic paintings on the wall that hardly comfort you. No internet and no cell service, but there is a small box-shaped TV that you’re sure is from the 50s, the picture warped and cloudy.
Base placed you here temporarily until you relocate, your apartment now too dangerous to live in as your address was in enemy hands.
Judging by the way your supervisor spoke to you when discussing the transition, they must be in the dark on what caused the breach.
Your secret is safe for now, but there’s no telling when it’s going to get discovered. Waiting for the truth to come out has left a weight in your chest that sticks around from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.
They had assigned you a counselor to visit you and help process the trauma of the event, but you don’t trust them enough to give them the full truth. You just tell them about the violence Ghost inflicted, walking through the nightmares that result from it. You haven’t gotten a goodnight’s rest since it all went down, often waking up in the middle of the night kicking and screaming at the vivid night terrors of Ghost at the side of your bed.
Other than your counselor, the base associate that brings grocery to restock the noisy fridge on Thursdays, and the occasional check-up from your supervisor, you’ve been totally isolated from the outside world.
You don’t care about most.
Just Konig.
He had held you in his arms and carried you to safety at the risk of his own life. You knew you didn’t deserve it after what you did, but you can’t help but daydream.
Thinking about the way it felt to have your head on his chest, the cotton of his mask brushing your bruised cheek, his arms grasping you tight - protecting you - it definitely helps distract from the uncomfortable feeling lingering by your heart.
You wondered if he knew, if he had seen himself on Johnny’s copy of the recording, but still was kind enough to do such a favor for you.
Then you really wouldn’t deserve him.
You spend all your time thinking about Konig, bouncing between the depth of your guilt and the highs of the fantasy, just as you have been since you met him.
When he visits for the first time, it nearly triggered a panic attack. You had not been expecting visitors, and you were still haunted by the precious unexpected visitors you had. You’re delightfully surprised when you peek out the window and see Konig, looking nervously at the landscape behind him when you don’t answer right away. Your eyebrows spring up in shock and you let out a verbal exclamation at the sight.
You quickly run your fingers through your hair as a last ditch effort to appear somewhat put together before opening the door, forced to tilt your head back to look at him. His eyes widen at the sight of you, and he moves, almost like he’s about to step closer but stops himself.
You force yourself to contain your excitement at his visit, “Konig, It’s good to see you.” You look down at your clothes, still donned in loungewear, “Sorry about the jammies. Come in.” You open the door for him so he can step in before shutting the door behind him. He takes a few steps into the room before stilling, taking a moment to look around.
“Sorry for stopping by unannounced.” He says, followed by a clearing his throat. His eyes linger on the old beige couch before meeting your eyes again. “I‘ve been worried about you.”
You knew you were unreachable, he couldn’t have gotten in contact any other way, “Don’t apologize, you really have no idea how good it is to see you. I’ve been thinking about how to say thank you, for what you did, but I’m not sure there’s enough words between our languages to cover it.” You put your hand to back of your neck, looking to the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze again. You give a nervous laugh, “So I guess I owe you a bottle of wine, huh?”
You can tell he smiles under the mask by the way his eyes crinkle, “Just doing my job.”
You glance down at the arms that had held you so tight and wished they were wrapped around you again.
“Thank you, Konig. Really. I owe you my life.”
“It was my pleasure.” He says as he gives his head a little shake. His gaze shifts a bit higher, “You’re healing nicely.”
You touch a hand to the gash Ghost had left from his gun. You were most likely going to have a scar, but it had closed and the swelling had gone down significantly, the previous inflamed red now a medium pink. “Ah, well thanks for noticing. You know I made those skin cells myself?”
Huh?!
He tilts his head, “That’s good, I hear store-bought isn’t what it used to be.”
You giggle and roll on your heels a bit, not necessarily at the joke but at the fact that such a normally rigid and imitating man is now being cheeky with you, and it feels so nice to break the tension a bit.
“How are you holding up?” He says, and it reminds of the way your therapist inquires, with that gentle tone that clearly eludes to the incident without directly referring to the incident.
“Uh,” You trail off a bit, touching the nasty bruise on your inner arm, large from the spread of the internal bleeding, but now faded to a healing yellow. “Y’know? It’s actually been,” You let out another nervous laugh, “awful, actually. But that’s alright. Uhm, I think it’ll get easier with time.”
He nods and his eyes dart down to the bruise you’ve been mindlessly tracing with your finger. Something dark flickers behind his eyes but quickly subsides.
“If it’s worth anything, it does.”
You give him a weak smile and you have no way to confirm but you think he does the same.
A silence falls on you both for awhile, both of you picking a random point in the room to unfocus your vision on. The silence doesn’t feel awkward, more like you both were grieving for a minute - or maybe just lost in thought. Even if neither knew what to say to the other, you were still bonding over your traumatic experiences in your own quiet way.
You’re the one who breaks the silence, your voice a bit cracked from your dry throat, “What do you do about the nightmares?”
His eyes leave you for a moment as he considers it. “I leave a book by my nightstand. For some it’s TV, others crossword puzzles. There’s no stopping it. You just have to find what calms you down after.”
You give a nod. You knew there wouldn’t be a magic cure but you still have to take a moment to process that you’ll have to be dealing with it for the foreseeable future.
There’s a long pause before he speaks again, “You dream of him?”
You swallow again, trying to make it easier for you to speak but bail, instead slowly nodding your head.
Another silence falls over you both. A longer, more drawn out one. You both get lost in thought for awhile.
When you interrupt the silence again, the words spill out of you fast, coming out in a jumble and before you can stop yourself. He had that effect on you, making you feel so vulnerable and exposed, ready to spill your guts. Deep down you knew that it’s time to rip the bandaid off. Free yourself from the guilt and the constant fear your world is going to come crashing down around you.
“Do you know what I did?”
He studies you, tilting his head, “What do you mean? About your SOS?”
His response tells you that he truly doesn’t know. If he knew what you did, he’d have known exactly what you’d meant. Regardless, you still make a futile attempt to jog his memory, hoping you won’t have to explain yourself, “How I ended up there? What caused the breach?”
His eyes squint in confusion, “I was told we didn’t know how they received your information.”
Your head tilts down in shame, and you have to look away from him.
You take a deep breath and rest your palms flat on your thighs.
“Okay, look, I’ve done something horrible. I have not been very good to you, and… that sucks! Because I really thought we could have been,” You hesitate for a moment, “friends.” You close your eyes and take another breath, “At first I thought I could keep it a secret from you, even if I believe you have every right to know, but the truth is I just can’t handle the guilt anymore. I’m exhausted waiting for the other shoe to drop, okay?”
Konig’s whole body is tense now, standing at attention as he waits for your words. You’re worrying him.
“The day we met,” You’re choking up now, the adrenaline coursing through you, causing you to shake and perspire, mouth dry, “After our day in the shoot house, I forgot to disconnect your feed.”
Your tone shifts from serious to a bit desperate, “It was an accident, I swear, Konig.” You look at him, pleading eyes begging him to believe you, “And I should have just disconnected the feed when I found it, I know,” You’re getting exasperated, “But I’m sick and curious and to be honest I just couldn’t help myself when I saw you.”
He shifts uncomfortably in his spot, and swallows hard. He knows what you mean, but he has to confirm it with you to believe it, “What did you see?”
You look away from him and to the floor. It takes you a moment to work up the courage, “I saw you getting off.” You say it so quietly, ashamed to admit it.
“I shouldn’t have watched Konig, I shouldn’t have. It was wrong and I know it doesn’t mean anything now but I truly am sorry. But I did watch and I heard my name and I’ve been wracked with guilt ever since.“
He stands still, his breathing escalating slightly. He doesn’t say anything and the silence drapes over you both for awhile.
This silence was definitely awkward.
His eyes tell you nothing and his expression is masked by the hood.
You swallow, knowing you owe him the full truth as you force yourself to continue. If he’s already disgusted with you under that hood, this will really put you over the edge.
Your fist clenches, “In a moment of pure stupidity, I kept the video.” You break eye contact for a brief moment before returning your gaze to him. “I sent it to myself.”
“Okay?” You spit, angry at yourself, “I kept it and I’ve watched it so many times because I am just addicted to the way you moan my name, Konig. I’m sorry. I heard it and I needed more. It made me feel so good, and so so terrible at the same time.”
You’re on a roll now, rambling like you’re talking about your research.
“And I have not been able to stop thinking about you!” You laugh a bit, “And I understand how serious this is. So if you want to go straight to head of command and have me discharged, I won’t hold it against you. In fact, if you don’t even feel like filing the report, I’ll pack up my things and leave now, and you won’t hear from me ever again.”
You pause, and he doesn’t fill the silence, so you keep going, the words coming out like vomit, “But there’s something else you deserve to know. When I sent the video to my phone - for personal reasons only, okay?! I was not planning on showing anyone, if that helps. When I sent the video, it opened a vulnerable point of entry for TF-141 to hack in. They… have your video. I’m so sorry, it was a major lapse of judgement, and I overlooked so many protocols, and I put our intel at risk. I put your private moment at risk. I put us all at risk. I-“
You cut yourself off, tears starting to well in your eyes. It was relieving to get it off your chest, but you knew what was about to happen. You knew you were lighting a fuse with one hand and holding dynamite with another.
“I’m so sorry, Konig.”
The tears start flowing and you’re powerless to stop them. You hoped it wasn’t coming off as a desperate attempt to gain sympathy.
For awhile you stand there, eyes fixed at the floor as you wait for his response.
Konig hasn’t moved, hasn’t said anything, just stands in his spot, staring.
When you finally look at him, eyes full of heartbreak, he maintains eye contact for a few moments, expression unreadable.
After a moments to process, he uncrosses his arms to dig into his pocket, pulling out the device you had given him on that very first day. His boots slowly cross the linoleum floor and he gently sets your device on the dinky table behind you before removing the wristband and setting it down next to the earpiece without making a sound.
He doesn’t even look back at you before he turns his back and walking out the safe house door, shutting it with a soft click.
——————————————————————
It’s been three days since Konig left you alone in the safe house.
You’re wondering if you should cut your losses and leave. Change your name & get started with a new life.
You’ve already preemptively packed up your things to make it less painful on yourself when your supervisor comes to kick you to the curb.
Even as your life is dissolved and scattered to the wind, you actually feel a lot better than you have in months. Almost like the worrying was worse than the actual consequences. At least now you can live honestly.
Nonetheless, it was still pretty painful. Your latest infatuation finding out how you so deeply betrayed them. Watching him walk out on you had left you sobbing face down in the dusty orange couch pillows to muffle your cries.
It’s late at night on that third day, and you had managed to find some respite with a surprisingly warm shower and losing yourself in blurry reruns of a game show when you hear the light ting of metals.
At first you think it’s the ringing in your ears returning, it had been on and off ever since Ghost concussed you, but you quickly realized by the uneven rattles it had been coming from within the safe house.
Your eyes scan the room after switching the TV off, first starting with the fridge that hums too loud, but quickly dart your attention over to the movement of the safe house’s doorknob jiggling.
Not again.
You try and suppress the flashbacks enough to find somewhere to hide, but the safe house is one big open room with a small obscured bedroom that was more bed than room, and you don’t think the bed is high enough off the floor to crawl under.
So instead you freeze on the dingy couch, your heartbeat deafening in your ears as you watch your doorknob wiggle in its loose hold.
There’s a distinct click and then a long pause. You don’t even see the doorknob rotate because the door gets flung open with such speed and force it slams against the wall and bounces back.
“Konig?” You fear melds with confusion as you make sense of the figure rushing in.
He’s already closed most of the gap between you when you manage to squeak out a more alarmed, “Konig!”
It’s scary to have such a large man charge you, especially one you’re so used to being docile around you, one that usually stands hesitantly by the door until invited closer.
You don’t have a lot of time to think about it. Konig grabs you by the crest of the back of your neck with one hand, his other hand lifting up his mask to kiss you without room for arguing.
You let out a surprised gasp that was muffled by the kiss, and he takes that opportunity to have his tongue greet yours. His grip is tight on the back of your neck, his fingers digging in slightly to stake his claim. The stubble on his chin brushes roughly against your skin as he takes what’s his.
Once you catch up, you close your eyes and try to match his intensity but it’s difficult to keep up.
He finally pulls away, out of breath and letting his hood fall back over his mouth, his now free hand moving to the side of your face, “I’m sorry I left you, mein schatz.” He pulls away from your face slightly with a breath, “I needed to think.”
Your wide eyes flicker between his, mouth slightly parted as you nod. “Yeah,” your voice is breathy, the shock of the kiss having knocked the wind out you, “That’s uh, understandable.”
He brings his face closer to you. His eyes shift, and you see that dark flicker again.
“You have to understand, liebe, your deed will not go unpunished.”
Your brows retract as you swallow at the threat, looking up at him with concern in your eyes and your thighs pressed together.
You’ve been nervous around Konig before, maybe even scared, but you’ve never feared for your safety. Quite the opposite, actually. Such a large, strong soldier on your team gives you a shield of comfort - he made you feel safe.
But the way his voice had lowered and his eyes tinted with something primal shoots a tingle down your spine and raises the hairs on your neck. You’re not sure what he means, but your brain is coming up with ideas faster than you can sink your teeth into the details.
You’re almost ashamed at the warm feeling of arousal that sinks to your lower abdomen.
He kisses you again, this time closed and softer. When he pulls away his face stays dangerously close to yours, “You’ve done a very bad thing, liebe. You understand?”
His voice is low and husked but holds incredible authority. You can’t help but feel like a child being scolded in the principal’s office. You nod slowly, lips pursed and eyes still rounded in suspense.
He brings his finger up to your chin, his face close enough your noses are brushing, “I can’t hear a nod.”
The knot in your stomach doubles and your breath hitches a bit, shaking as you speak, “Yes, Konig, I understand.”
His thumb strokes your cheek, but it doesn’t soothe the mixture of fear and arousal flushing your skin.
“Would you like to right your wrong?”
You take a deep breath. You’re not sure what you’re agreeing to, but you’ve been desperate to fix what you’ve done since the moment you committed it. “Yes, Konig.” You nod your head, “I’d do anything.”
A pleased hum comes from him, and you're close enough to feel the vibration. You swallow nervously, gaze hesitantly watching his animalistic eyes stare down at you like you’re his prey.
“Stay.” He orders, pulling away from you and letting his hand linger on your face for an extra moment before turning away from you.
You obey, both fear of consequence and desperation to please not allowing an ounce of will to defy him. Your eyes are still locked on him as he steps to the dinky little table he had set the device on three days ago.
You had left it untouched, making it easier to swallow by still thinking of the device as his. As if Konig had just left it behind by mistake instead of intentionally returning your property to you.
He took both carefully in his hand before returning to you, boots asserting themselves as they slowly and confidently traverse the linoleum. He holds the devices out for you to take. “Feed on. Projection off.”
And you follow his instructions, what choice do you have? When his voice is strict and he’s standing over you, intimidating stature making you feel so small and defenseless. The shake of your hands causes your fingers to fumble as you struggle with the remote, his hand held out impatiently as you stumble with fluster.
When you finally get it, you place both devices in his palm, staring up with your eyes begging for his approval.
He gives you nothing, as usual, placing the earpiece under his hood and setting the wrist piece down simultaneously.
“You stepped out of line, liebe.” Konig takes closer to small gap between you you, “You humiliated me.”
His eyes are half-lidded now, boring into you with menace.
“And now I’m going to humiliate you.”
He touches your face with his thumb again. You can’t help but flinch at the gentle touch, on edge from unease and excitement.
He gives another light huff, reveling in his ability to intimidate you.
“On your knees.” He commands, finger pointing at the floor as he slides back to make room for you.
He huffs in satisfaction at the dumbfounded look on your face. Your mouth slightly agape and stuttering - it’s dawning on you now; exactly what you have to do to right your wrongs.
He squints at you, voice leaving no room for error, “Did I stutter, Schatz?”
That sinister glint in his eye returns again, and just the sight is enough to get you to slide quickly to the floor, assuming your position on both knees, neck slowly tilting back to take him in as he towers over you.
He leans in to to cup your face again, giving it a soft yet firm pat, “Good.”
Your heart flutters at the praise, even if simply articulated.
That’s all you want to hear. That you’re good. You want to be so good for him.
You’re dripping now, Konig already having you ache for his touch.
His strong hands slide down your face, four fingers cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes your bottom lip gently. When your lips part he slides his thumb in your mouth and you oblige, obediently sucking and showing him what you can do with your tongue.
He gives a low pleased hum before removing his thumb and reaching for his belt, the buckle jingling as he unlatches it and removes it from his waist in one swift pull.
Your stare follows the belt as he folds it in half, and he muses at your worried look. He likes the way your mind wanders, always running with the possibilities. It’s what drew you to him in the first place.
He doesn’t hit you, though, just taps it against the bottom of your chin to get you to fix your gaze back on him. Once he’s got your attention, he discards the belt and reaches down to pop the button on his pants, yanking each end to get the zipper down in one smooth move.
He slides his thumbs behind both waistbands, pulling them down just enough to expose his cock. It’s rock hard and practically springs from his pants, and you can’t help but let out a small squeak and just how big it is.
You’ve seen it before, studied it endlessly, imagined it so many times.
It did nothing to prepare you for kneeling before it. Just like the rest of him, his cock intimidated you, at full attention and already leaking precum.
“Wrap your hands around it, schatz.”
You follow his orders, softly gripping his cock. You’ve studied the video of him jerking off so many times, you know exactly how to please him. You start with a loose grip, your hand sliding from base to tip at a slow pace, as your other hand cups his balls.
At first he watches, enjoying how your hands looked so small around him. He can’t help but close his eyes and tilt his head back as he lets out a soft moan.
It sounds so much better in person, and your pace picks up, desperate to elicit more from him.
He tilts his head forward to get a better view of you.
“Suck.” He commands, and you hesitate for a brief moment, worried about the logistics, before ditching your fears and giving it your best shot.
You keep your hand steady on his shaft as you guide the tip to your tongue, a slow lick clearing the bead of pre-cum that had formed.
He lets out another low moan that makes you quiver.
You press your lips to him, slowing working the tip into your mouth as you tease with your tongue.
As you work steadily down his shaft, you have to fully unhinge your jaw to fit him in to avoid teeth, and even then it’s a close call. You’re continue carefully and he seems willing to be patient with you as you get used to his size.
You manage to somewhat comfortably fit half of him in your mouth, using your free hand to squeeze the base of his shaft. You start to move back and forth, pressing your tongue against him.
He watches in awe as you take him in, not holding back in his pleaded hums and groans.
“So good, Schatz.”
Warmth pools in your chest at the praise.
You look at him with a doe eyes and a full mouth, bobbing on his cock as you slick it up.
He moans at the sight, placing a hand on the back of your head. He follows it up with another order.
“Deeper. I want to see you choke on it.”
You’re not in a position to argue, so you oblige, letting his cock slide as deep as you can, but he’s not pleased with your attempt. He tightens his grip on the back of your head, fingers laced between strands of hair, and slowly forces his cock in until you’re squeaking out noises involuntarily, eyes welling with tears.
He starts to fuck your mouth, slowly at first, but picks up the pace. He doesn’t wait for you to get your bearings or catch your breath, savoring the lengths you’ll go to please him.
“There you go, schatz, so good for me.”
The tears are steaming now as he triggers your gag reflex, and your underwear is stained with your arousal in response to being praised and used.
He pulls out of your mouth, his cock still wet with your spit, and takes a step back to admire you. Your breath quickening to catch up, the flushed look of your face, the disheveled hair. He relished in the mess he was making of the intelligent professional he had come to know.
He gives a pleased hum at how you wait so patiently for his next order.
“Up. Clothes off.”
Your breath hitched, cheeks flushing a shade deeper. You wipe the spit from your mouth and slowly stand, hands shaking with nerves.
Your fingers dig into the hem of your shirt, desperate to grip onto something, and you hesitate at his command, nervous to let him see you even more exposed.
You ignore your nerves, too willing to please Konig, and pull your shirt over your disheveled hair and discard it on the couch. Your fingers fumble with the waistband on your lounge pants, sheepishly pulling them down your thighs and stepping carefully out of them.
You stand before him in your underwear, and you can’t help but cross one arm over yourself. The way he’s staring at you, not shy about his gaze mapping your newly uncovered features. He steps forward again, close enough his hard cock brushes against your warm skin.
He gives a low hum of approval and steps closer, his hands gently running along your sides until they find your waist, staking their claim with a firm grip. He leans in and you feel the drape of his hood caress your shoulder as he brushes his head against yours, lips in your ear.
“You’re so beautiful, meine schatz.”
You close your eyes as he plants a kiss though his hood on your neck, and you can feel his breath through the soft cotton.
It’s not fair that you’re naked while he’s still fully covered. You feel so vulnerable and exposed.
You quickly understand that’s exactly what you had done to him and let out a soft whimper at the realization that this is intentional, that he’s issuing this power play as part of your punishment. You’ve had your time to admire his body, now it’s his turn.
“Bedroom, now.” The softness leaves his voice with the demand and he pulls away from you once again to get a better view of you.
The knot is your lower abdomen doubles as you turn and head to the bedroom, giving him a good long look at the back of you.
You stand at the narrow space between the end of the bed and the wall, looking up at him when he enters, waiting for his next order. You can’t help but notice the jingle of his belt as he carried it with him. He sets it on the bed and takes his time committing your image to memory.
“On your back, liebe.” The pet name doesn’t soften the domineering tone, warning you not to dare rebel against him.
You follow his order, getting up on the bed and laying down for him, your upper half propped up by your elbows.
Konig follows, crawling over top of you slowly, his massive frame engulfing you beneath him as you lean into the bed. He appears even more menacing over top of you, strong arms and legs trapping you beneath him. You can’t help the nervous expression on your face as you stare up at those hungry eyes.
He brings a hand up to touch your face, leaning forward to plant another kiss on your lips, lifting up his mask as he does so. It annoys you that whenever he pulls away the hood falls, and you can’t even get a peek at what you assume is a strong jaw.
The hand on your face slides down your neck, fingers traversing the bumps of your collarbones before he shifts down to your chest, stopping for a moment to tease your nipples to attention. You suck in a breath and arch into the touch.
He hums again, low and devious.
Your hands reach up to touch his arms, but he doesn’t let you, removing his hands from your chest and grabbing your wrists firmly. He passes one off so he can hold both of your arms in one strong grip, and you’re amazed he’s able to subdue both of your wrists with just one of his massive hands. He leans back and uses his free hand to reach for the belt at the foot of the bed, before wrapping it around your wrists and fastening the buckle tightly.
He leans in close to your face as he places your restrained hands back above your head. He takes in the way your breath quickens through parted lips, eyes wide and cheeks flush with excitement and worry. He likes making you falter, likes watching you breakdown underneath his power.
“You’re all mine.” He reminds you, one hand keeping your bound wrists firmly above your head.
You nod, and when you speak your voice comes out quiet and broken, “All yours, Konig.”
It gratifies him, judging by his self-assured laugh and the way his cock twitches against your stomach. “That’s it, liebe.”
He removes his grip on your forearm with a firm squeeze to remind you to stay, and he scoots himself back so that either leg is straddling your thighs instead of your waist. His gaze shifts down, soaking in every inch as he cups you over your underwear, his careful touch taking advantage of your sensitivity.
You can’t help but grind your hips into his teasing, already leaking for him.
“Mm, I can tell you’re enjoying this. Such a dirty little pervert you are.”
You close your eyes and let out a whine at the teasing, both verbal and physical.
“Don’t worry, liebe, I’m getting impatient as well.”
He slips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, sliding his fingers along your hips to tease you a bit before sliding them down, having to readjust himself as he takes them off. He repositions himself between your legs this time, letting either of your ankles at his sides.
His hands slide up your quivering thighs, spreading you open and getting a good look at you. You try and fight the embarrassment under the heat of his stare, resisting the urge to bring your bound wrists down to cover yourself.
He takes his time slicking himself up with lube - he came prepared, you noticed. Premeditated passion. Guess he has to when he’s got such a large cock.
You’re worried about the logistics, but you get the feeling Konig wouldn’t dare hurt you in this way.
Once he’s nice and slicked, he lines the tip against your aching warmth, and leans down close to you.
“Are you ready, meine liebe?”
“Please, Konig.” You whine, rutting your hips to grind against him.
He closes his eyes as he slowly works himself into you. Your suspicions are confirmed as he stops just after the tip, opening his eyes again to confirm the level of comfort displayed on your features.
Your teeth are grit, but you nod your head in approval.
He’s continues, pace so careful as he pushes himself further into you. It’s been so long since you’ve got any action, especially action from someone so well endowed, you’re incredibly tight around him. He’s studying you, searching for signs of being pushed over the limit as he takes his time stretching you out.
You can’t help let out a soft moan when he’s halfway in, just at the feeling of being filled. Your eyes flutter shut, giving yourself the ability to concentrate on the cock working into you.
It takes awhile, it does. You’re so small and he’s so big, but he doesn’t seem to mind, enjoying using you as his cockwarmer, walls so cozy and tight around him. He thinks it’s so goddamn arousing that he’s so huge you have to push yourself to take him. He likes that he’s a challenge for you. He wants to train you and shape you in every sense of the word.
But for now, he allows you take the lead from underneath him, letting yourself grind your hips down on to him at your own pace as he lets low moans escape him.
When you’re finally at the point of desperately rutting your hips against him, you give him all he needs to hear.
“Fuck me, Konig, please fuck me.”
He obliges, unable to say no to your eager and breathy tone. His fingers grip onto your outer thighs as he thrusts into you. His pace is quick, but he’s still cautious not to force himself too deep inside you. He’s a disciplined man, after all.
Even without being all the way inside you, he’s still deep enough to hit the spot, forcing moans to escape from parted lips.
“Look at me, liebe.”
You oblige, and his cock twitches inside of you at the sight of your half-lidded eyes glazed in pleasure. He grunts, his pace picking up as he ventures deeper inside of you.
You can’t help the mutters and moans spilling from you. Your hands mindlessly move from above your head to his chest, tugging on the fabric of his shirt.
“You feel so good. So good for me, schatz.”
You moan in response, and he decides he’s worked you open enough to push all the way in.
You’re cockdrunk now. Breathy moans escaping without thought, eyes unfocused and body limp to his desires.
When he suddenly pulls out you whine. “Koni- please.”
“On your front.” He commands as he sits back on his knees, towering over you.
You’re flush and out of breath as you do as he says, positioning yourself the best you can with your hands bound. On all fours, head down towards the pillows as you arch your back.
The bed shifts under him as he scoots close before giving your ass a firm smack, the gasp leaving your mouth more out of surprise than pain. He gives you a few more, alternating between your cheeks. Just enough to leave handprints behind, marking you as his own.
He lines up with you again, pressing into you without hesitation.
You both let out moans at the return of warmth. He’s less gentle now, pounding into you hard enough the sound of flesh crashing together fills the room. The creaky bed is slamming against the dingy walls and your thighs are rippling on impact. You can’t help but quiver as the pleasure washes through you.
He’s got such a rhythmic pace, slamming into you while he grips your hips tight to keep you still.
“All mine.” He growls between breathy groans.
You can't even respond, practically drooling into the pillows as Konig fucks you senseless. A string of broken praises fall from your lips, mostly nonsense. Konig leans in and leaves little kisses down your back, without breaking his pace.
“Koni, I’m gon’na- fuck, Konig.”
“Come for me, meine liebe.”
Your eyes pinch shut and a broken moan leaves your lips as you ride the waves of intense pleasure washing through you. It’s enough to make your entire body clench, your walls gripping onto Konig.
He doesn’t let up, forcing your thighs open as he mercilessly pounds you through orgasm.
He gives your ass another firm smack, and your fingers are clawing desperately at the pillows, searching for any sort of stability but you’re powerless to Konig and his forceful cock.
You’re on cloud nine, feeling so far away from your body as you’re washed up on the shores of pleasure. Konig’s strength is the only thing holding you steady.
“I’m going to come, schatz.” He warns, moaning your name just like he did on the video before he fills you up and stakes his claim deep inside you.
His fingers dig into your thighs as his muscles tense under his clothes, his thrusts and moans becoming uneven as he loses himself to the euphoric gratification.
He pauses for a few moments after he slows to a stop, taking a moment to catch his breath as he lets his cock warm inside you.
He pulls out of you with a low grunt, watching the come that spills out of you. When he releases his grip on you, you’re too weak to support yourself, sliding limp on your front and basking in the afterglow of your orgasm.
He takes pleasure in knowing he marked you, completely broke you down and disheveled you. Made you feel so good you have to collect yourself afterwards.
He steps out for a moment before quickly returning with something to clean you both up with.
He’s gentle with the clean-up, wiping away the mixture of lube and come from you while minding your sensitivity, not wanting to disturb your bliss. He removes the belt from your wrists as well.
“Konig? Cuddle.” You mutter, arm stretching across the bedspread.
You don’t see the smile underneath his hood, but after he wipes himself off he joins you back on the bed, the mattress creaking for a final time as he pulls you in a spoon. You feel so safe and small, pressed into him like this. His strong arms wrapped around you. His chest on your back. You let out a pleased hum.
“That’s going to make a nice video.” He says, removing his earpiece and turning it off as he sets it on the bed.
“You can have the real thing anytime.” You say, eyes closed with a warm smile on your face.
He hums low in your ear and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “You’re forgiven, Schatz.”
“Thank you Koni.”
You both drift off, tired out from your intense finishes.
You stay close throughout the night, but having him pressed into you unfortunately didn’t stop the nightmares. When you wake up in a panic, kicking and screaming at the latest renditioning of your mind’s unresolved trauma, Konig’s there to press his hand to your heart, telling you that everything’s okay, it was just a nightmare.
Your breath is still rapid and your heart is still pounding as you steady yourself, transitioning yourself back to reality after the night terror.
He hugs you so tight, reminding you about how he’ll always be there to protect you, that no one will ever hurt you again, he will not let anything happen to you.
You steady yourself, and he knows well enough how hard it is to calm yourself after such an immersive terrifying experience.
“I brought something for that, Schatz.”
When he leaves the room you think he’s going to bring you a book, a puzzle, something to do to distract yourself.
What he brings back makes you tense, your eyes widening at the gift. He sets it down for you, getting back into the bed and resuming his position wrapped around you, protecting you. But your eyes are glued to the gift, the full implications sinking in.
Konig had set down Ghost’s mask.
“No one will find out about your secret. I took care of it.”
You don’t need him to explain further. You know Ghost will never have the opportunity to hurt you again.
“Thank you, Konig.”
He kisses your shoulder through his hood, “My pleasure, meine liebe. Sleep tight.”
And you do.
Original Works Masterlist
#konig#konig cod#konig call of duty#konig modern warfare#konig mw2#call of duty#cod#modern warefare ii#modern warefare 2#konig x reader#smut#konig x you#x reader#fic#experimental#uhohwriting
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Now open under new management (remake)
Edward Parker III rolled down the car window a crack. Peter, his driver, had switched off the air conditioning to save fuel. The fuel gauge was practically at 0.00. Here, in the middle of nowhere, they had no mobile network. The last Google message said that a petrol station would appear at some point. And Peter claimed that it should open in five minutes. Open from 10:40 am. Strange opening times. Edward's stomach grumbled. Something had gone wrong at breakfast. The car desperately needed a gas pump. And he needed a toilet just as badly. Then, like an oasis in the desert, a building appeared in the middle of endless cornfields and pastures full of stupidly staring cattle. It was 10:39:50 a.m. when Peter steered the car into the dusty gas station with the last drop of gas. At 10:40 sharp, Edward yanked open the car door and jumped out. And the moment his spotless Oxfords touched the ground, the neon sign flashed. Open!
Edward ran towards the little store where the neon sign was shining. He was far too intent on not wetting his pants to notice the leather soles of his shoes turning into a firm rubber tread. When he pushed the door handle down, he got something like an electric shock. He didn't care. The store was empty. His palm became calloused. His fingernails were black. There was a door at the back labeled "Private". Hopefully there was a toilet there. Thank God the door was open. And thank God there was a toilet. In the middle of a room full of tools, car tires and packages. It stank miserably. But Edward didn't care at all. He had already undone his belt while running, unzipped his trousers, pulled them down and dropped onto the dirty toilet seat at the last moment. And he had to shit like never before in his life. The stench was overwhelming. But the relief was immense. Edward finally relaxed again. But only for a second. Then his eyes fell on the dirty biker boots. They contained a pair of completely filthy jeans, pulled down as far as they would go. And what was even more irritating: his right hand was the hand of a construction worker, the sleeve of his shirt had disappeared. And the fabric of the right sleeve of his jacket was also coming undone. And on his chest and back, the color changed from a navy blue to a washed-out red. What the hell was going on here?
Even greater than the panic was the disgust at the stench. His left hand, still freshly manicured, reached for the toilet flush. And again he was hit by an electric shock. Panicked, he watched as his fingernails became dirty and his hand calloused. Edward's gaze fell between his legs. That wasn't his circumcised, shaved penis. That was a cheesy, hairy cock. Much bigger than it normally was. Edward had to get out of here! He hastily wiped his ass. A tight, hairy ass, sitting there on a familiar toilet seat. A man needs a good place to shit. Hehehe, this was a good place to shit. Stumbling, Edward stood up, his head spinning. He looked in the mirror. That was still his head. But the rest of him? His stiff white collar and tie knot vanished into thin air, revealing a well-toned chest. The last remnants of the finest navy blue wool on his upper left arm disappeared, and the transformation of his jacket into a washed-out and worn-out tank top was complete. I look like a fucking hillbilly, were his last thoughts before he grew a scruffy three-day fuzzy beard. His $100 haircut became a home-cut mullet. Damn, the greasy hair hadn't been washed in a while.
Loud honking from outside. "Damn, I've taken a shit! Can't you wait?" Edward shouted. He wiped his hands on the dirty cloth stuck in his pants. Washing hands was for sissies in the city. He entered the yard of his gas station.
Hehehe, he knew the dirty truck that was parked there at the gas pump. "Pete's services of all kinds" was written on the door. And Pete Jr. was hanging in the cab with a visible bulge. "Eddy, don't you always promise the best service at your gas station?" said Pete with a grin. Ed spat out the chewing tobacco and licked his lips. "Go ahead, gas station attendant. The belt buckle won't undo itself!"
Full service and guaranteed customer satisfaction. That's what Ed's gas station was famous for.
#male tf#muscle tf#reality change#male transformation#muscle transformation#redneck tf#age reduction#white to blue collar tf#ai image#mullet
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I just saw your last post and it'd like to ask, do you have any actual accurate ellie fanfiction recommendations? like, idk, fluff or something
Omg YES anon!!! pls tell me what you think of these and don’t shy away from sliding into my dms (plssss my hands hurt the list is lengthy 💀)
WRITERS THANK U FOR UR SERVICE <3
BY FAR MY MOST FAV FIC EVER WOULD DO ANYTHING TO WIPE MY MEMORY AND RE-READ
(If you wanna know what life was like for Ellie and her loved ones in Jackson > you won’t be disappointed > basically fills in the gaps of Ellie’s journal)
Jackson Days @ehefic (Ellie’s pov)
Oasis @ehefic (Dina’s pov)
FAV DELLIE FICS
(anything by watery sun she writes the perfect blend of fluff-smut-angst not to mention I’ve never read such a unique pov in my life damn)
hey, murderer @watery-sun
mirth (bars a thousand harms) @watery-sun
BRO I SWEAR IT’LL CHANGE UR LIFE
(no tags couldn’t find their @s on tumblr)
More important
You’re all the things I’ve got to remember
There’s no one like you
all I know is there’s no where I’d rather be
caught in the act
Midnight love
MY FAV X READERS FICS COULD READ A MILLION TIMES WISH I COULD TATTOO ON MY BODY
I saw you in a dream @elliesflower
don’t you dare fall in love @ohcaptains
honeybun @blackgrlficsnthings
THIS KINDA ELLIE MAKES ME WEAK; BLURBS, ONE SHOTS, DRABBLES, HCS
you’re doing your nightly skincare routine and a sleepy ellie joins you. @ijtaimes
barista ellie headcannons @ellabsbb
my brain is just filled to the brim of what cuddling with ellie would be like... @elsgooglyeyes
Ellie would definitely go into the store room and just do that silent scream @moodywyrm
bumping into Ellie wasted at a night club @coeurify
thinking about reader giving ellie a haircut and fucking up the front lol. @bellswlw
i wholeheartedly believe she wouldn’t understand the point of clear lipgloss. @elsweetheart
ellie giving reader a piggyback when reader is too tired to walk @elsweetheart
sleepy smut with ellie where they’re keeping quiet to themselves and it’s fluffy @me-and-your-husband
While Ellie leaves her office for a moment, leaving her stream unattended, you sneak in. @elliesmainhoe
THE ATTRACTIVE THINGS ELLIE WILLIAMS DOES @luvsellie
ellie is that girlfriend who arrives at your dorm door the second she receives a "they're not here" text. @dykeomania
thinking about what ellie’s social media probably looks like. @beanlot
Ellie & you get interrupted while being in the moment @losingherface
Dealer!ellie with a reader who bites affectionately @elsweetheart
i just know ellie is the best kisser, even to the point where she gets flustered. @elsweetheart
You and Ellie have just settled onto the farm and you noticed her hair is getting a little long, so as a nice girlfriend you offer to cut it. :) @koitrash
domestic hcs with ellie. w <3 @kurosaaki
clingy!reader wanting ellie's attention when she's playing video games and just like climbing into her lap @elsweetheart
reader is ellie's gf and she's a virgin and Ellie pop her cherry but Ellie is like really sweet and go slow n shit @hotxcheeto
okay but college!ellie being so excited to come to your room on the last day of the semester, @sp4cepunisher
Ellie's love language @astroels
Reader drags her long time girlfriend to meet her parents at their summer vacation home. The two share a very embarrassing moment together @losingherface
#ellie williams#tlou2#ellie x dina#ellie williams x reader#ellie x fem reader#my recs#joel miller#PLS READ BRO U WONT REGRET
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Our Sweetness
Rating: T | WC: 1.4k | Steve/Tommy/Carol
Polyamory, Established Relationship
[also on ao3]
“Okay, so,” Carol starts, capping her pen. The fluffy end bobbles as she gestures with it, looking over at her boys. She’s sat cross legged at the end of her bed, weekly planner in her lap. Music plays softly in the background — a mixtape Steve made for the three of them — from a boombox she has resting on her desk on the other side of the room.
Steve looks up at the sound of her voice from his place in Tommy’s lap. Sat in between Tommy’s legs, his back pressed to his stomach, arms braced over Tommy’s thighs — splayed wide. He’s comfortable. Tommy’s hands carding through his hair, smoothing out the strands and ruining his carefully styled locks. Melting into it, blinking slowly. It’s a little thrilling, that they get this. They’re allowed to ruin his hair, to hold him, to make him feel comfortable.
“I’ve got our week all figured out, so listen up.” She continues, looking a little pointedly at Tommy. He lets out a quiet but indignant ‘Hey!’ as Carol barrels on. Tapping the page with the end of her capped pen, looking down at her careful cursive, and then back up at Steve and Tommy’s tangled bodies. “Monday I have a haircut and style, and I will not be rescheduling. So you two can hang unless there’s anything else you haven’t told me?”
“Nah,” Tommy replies, still absently running his hands through Steve’s hair. He looks down at the man, tilting his head up gently so they can lock eyes. “Wanna come over then, baby? Parents won’t get home ‘til late.”
Steve just sighs, sinking into the feeling. “Can’t. I still have that Social Studies essay to work on, and I’m rapidly running out of time.”
“Study date, then?” Tommy says, grinning. And Carol knows he does not have any actual studying in mind.
“Monday.” Carol says, talking over him, smothering any answer Steve might have. “I’m at the hairdresser, Steve is studying, and Tommy is jerking off alone.”
“Hey!” Tommy exclaims, hands stilling, and Steve just laughs. Brings one of his hands up to rest on Tommy’s side. Runs his hand in small circles, a comfort. “What the hell Carol!”
“We will be graduating together, if I have anything to do with it,” She continues. “Plus you two need to keep your grades if you want to stay on the team.”
Tommy scoffs, but Carol can see he carefully doesn’t move out of Steve’s hold, away from his hand. He grabs it actually, pulling it away from his side, and brings it to his mouth. Places a soft kiss to the back of Steve’s knuckles, at the soft hair there, and Steve smiles. Soft, and sweet, and looking up at Tommy.
Fuck, she loves them.
“Tuesday Steve has swim practice.”
“Yeah, and it might run late too, with the meet so soon. So no hanging out after, I’m afraid.” Steve adds, sighing, not letting go of Tommy’s hand. He sounds a little disappointed.
“No worries baby,” She says, voice dropping into something saccharine sweet. Comforting. Reassuring. She always takes care of her boys. “I can have time with Tommy, and then we can make it up to you later.”
She deliberately keeps her tone sweet, not dipping into something sultry. Because as much as she loves making it up to Steve — taking care of him, making him feel good and taking him apart. Sometimes he needs it a little sweeter. Non-sexual intimacy. Massages and baths, cuddling while watching a movie. That they’re in it for him, and not just his body.
“Okay,” Steve replies softly, and she can see how much he yearns to reach out and touch. But they have to organise their week, or they’ll never get anything done.
“Wednesday Tommy has the dentist with his Mom after school.” She starts, pointing at the appointment in her planner, time carefully recorded. Tommy scoffs, but doesn’t interrupt. “And I have a study/hang with Nicole.”
She doesn’t say anything, neither does Tommy, but they both look at Steve.
“It’s okay,” He says. “I’ll go to the gym, go for a run. It’ll be good.”
“Keeping those muscles warm for us, huh?” Tommy jokes, mouth curling into a smirk.
“Oh you know it,” Steve replies, looking back up at Tommy, and then back to Carol, smile on his face.
“Thursday is basketball practice, obviously,” She continues, lest the boys get lost in their banter, their flirting. “So if you guys want to have a date after, I’ll have some me time.”
The boys basketball dates, Carol knew, were quite often sweaty gross things. Full of shower sex, rough hand jobs, and manly grunting. They needed to get it out of their system, flirt on the basketball court, work themselves up, and then fuck it out.
And most of the time it was best if they did it without Carol. They had a system, it worked. They got to have their jockish hookups, and get it all out so they could be good for her.
She watched as Tommy and Steve looked at each other, grinning, sinking into each others gazes. It was sweet — or it would be if she couldn’t tell they were being horny about it.
“Friday we’re totally free,” Carol says, adjusting her posture. Finally. That was the thing about they dynamic they had, the relationship they had built — all three of them — was it was occasionally very, very, hard to find a time they were all free. No extracurriculars, no appointments, no other commitments with friends. “So date night? All of us?”
“Matty from swim has been talking about throwing a party,” Steve adds. “We could go let loose? Dance? Have a few drinks and then go back to mine?”
“I thought your parents are home?” Tommy asks, brow furrowing as he looks down at Steve, still reclining serenely in Tommy’s laps. Cradled by his legs, his warm thighs. It’s a good place to be, Carol knows. She’d almost be jealous if she didn’t love the sight of it so much.
“They are,” he replies with a sigh, chest moving with the sheer force of the air leaving his lungs. “But they’re driving out of town for some dinner party. They’ll be back Saturday afternoon.”
“Well that’s plenty of time for us to have some fun.” Carol adds with a cat-like grin. “We can go out Saturday morning, get some brunch? Get Steve out of the house?”
“Please,” he says with another sigh. “They’re always a nightmare when they get back.”
“Perfect.” Carol says with finality, snapping her planner closed. She rests her fluffy pen on top, and pushes it off to the side. “That’s it then. So please, for the love of all that is holy, please remember it all.”
“Could never forget you, hot stuff,” Tommy flirts, holding out his free hand for her to take. That glint in his eye, that curl to his lips, the look he gives her. It’s addicting. It’s charming. She rolls her eyes, of course she does, but she grabs Tommy’s hand. Lets him pull her closer, into his grasp. “Love your organisation skills.”
It sounds like a joke, like he’s teasing — and Tommy sort of is — but she knows he genuinely means it. The way she merges their lives together in her little planner. Everyone’s sports, and appointments, school due dates and family commitments.
She lets herself tumble down onto the bed, into Tommy’s hold, Steve shuffling over to make room for her. They’re curled together like commas, Tommy holding onto them both, sharing the same breath.
Steve hooks an ankle over hers, anchoring her, and brings his free hand up to gently brush across her face. Her flushed cheeks, her sharp jaw. Tilting it up with a gentle press of his fingers.
“Thank you sweetheart,” he says, and she feels a gasp hitch in her chest. It’s the way he says it, that always gets her. The warmth, the sheer emotion in all his words, his tone. He cares for her, for Tommy, and for all of them together. It leaks out of him, like it’s too big for him to contain.
She loves it. Lets her eyes drop down to Steve’s lips. Plush and pink and right there. He sees this, Tommy sees it, and a shiver runs down her spine. “You gonna kiss me, or what?”
“With pleasure,” Steve whispers, voice dropping low as he closes the distance between them.
#stranger things#steve harrington#tommy hagan#carol perkins#stomarol#steve/tommy/carol#My Writing#rip to all my other projects this fic just happened
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