#for the sheer fact of it just being THAT creepy

[starry-toya]

i hate how difficult it is to form personal opinions about people and their actions in real life for me

[sp4ceboo]

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed you was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

[sunnie-angel]

Sweetheart

inspired by @sanguineterrain’s hc about virgin! jason which truly has not left my mind since i read it.

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.6k

tags: kissing, masturbation, loss of virginity, vaginal sex, creampie, overstimulation

Jason Todd’s just so goddamn sensitive, nerves set on a hair trigger, all the time. Call it a side effect of death or a fun little bonus from resurrection. Wherever it came from, it’s just part of his life now. And, see, normally it’s not a problem. In fact, it probably makes him better at this whole crime lord business. The slightest change in the airflow of a room tipping him off to an unseen assailant, the tremors traveling up the balls of his feet signalling an approaching vehicle, palm wrapped around a throat able to read a lie from a racing pulse. He’s adaptable like that, turning something that might have overwhelmed him into a weapon. It’s really not a problem.

Just like it’s not a problem that he’s never really been in love before. Between dying, then not dying, and an abrupt and burgeoning career in crime, well, dating hasn’t been very high on his list of priorities. It’s fine! So maybe he fucks his fist after a long night of patrol and wishes it were someone he was coming home to. He’s got more pressing things to worry about, important things. Red Hood things. His half-hidden fantasies and dog-eared classic romances can stay hidden under his bed forever, for all he cares.

He cares. Did he say he didn’t care? Well obviously that was a big fat lie. Jason nearly mows you down running across the park and the minute his hands close around your arms to steady you, he’s a goner. Heart eyes and tweety birds, the whole nine yards. Being in love with you’s the easiest thing Jason’s ever done. Maybe his hands shake a little more than they should the first time you ask him to dinner. Maybe he blurs the line between creepy and sweet by showing up at your doorstep with flowers less than 12 hours after your first date. He’s just new at this, that’s all. First time jitters.

There’s a lot of firsts, when it comes to you. The first time you hold his hand, he feels the the tips of his ears go hot. You kiss him on the cheek and he could swear NASA can see the colour of his cheeks from space. The very first time he kisses you – goodnight at your doorstep, meant to be chaste and brief – he’s half-hard in his pants the second he feels your breath on his skin. It’s a miracle, a sheer testament to all his will and training, that he doesn’t come in his pants on your doorstep at the taste of you.

Okay, so there’s some kinks he has to work out. He’s told you that he’s inexperienced. Well, more than inexperienced. A virgin, if you want to get all technical about it. You had smiled and told him the two of you could take it slow if he wanted. Which he didn’t. Want it slow, that is. That leads him to a new and persistent obsession with making it good for you, despite his current track record. Before you, the goal of getting off was efficiency. Hand slick and a few harsh tugs enough to have him spilling into a tissue. But that was before. He’s got a goal and a plan and Jason’s always been good with an objective.

He settles in and makes a mental note to get more lube. Gets his hand firm around his shaft because he knows, just knows, that the minute he starts teasing the head of his cock it’ll be over. Gives himself a few looser strokes just to get used to the sensation, gun callous catching on his foreskin and sending a frisson of pleasure up his spine. He watches his stomach muscles ripple and clench in retaliation. Begins to work his hand a little faster, adding a rough twist to each stroke that has him panting for breath. Pre starts beading at the tip of his cock and he swipes an errant thumb at it. He bucks and nearly moans at the sensation, the rough heated pad of his thumb setting his nerves on fire. Throws his head back eyes closed as his he increases the pace, lost to the burning heat building in his belly. He pictures your face smiling up at him on a particularly tight swipe over the head of his cock and comes harder than he ever has before, hot spurts decorating his stomach. His stopwatch reads 0:1:37. With a grunt, he reaches for his cock again.

By the time morning comes, far too soon and far too bright, Jason’s managed to increase his time. Not by much, but hey, that’s still progress in his book. He’s also discovered two new things about himself: 1) with just the right pressure he can stay hard between orgasms (hooray for illegal and mystical stimulant baths!), and 2) the image of you is more than enough to shove him over the edge, every single time. Fact number two may be a problem. ‘Cause if just the thought of you has him creaming in his pants like a pimply teen in a stiff breeze, having you under him in the flesh might actually kill him. It’s okay though, he’ll have more time to practice before you two get anywhere close to that. Or not.

The two of you are lying on your bed kissing, the kind of slow, lazy make-out that wouldn’t really be going anywhere only Jason’s got your thigh rubbing up in between his legs and that same hair trigger sensitivity. He swears he can almost feel the soft heat of your skin through the rough drag of denim. Your plush lips open wider and he surges forward, eager to notch himself closer. He’s clumsy like this, limbs too big and uncoordinated with you under him. His hips start undulating of their own accord at the extra friction, and you slip a hand into the back pocket of his jeans to urge him on. It’s good, so good, God why did he never realize it could be this good? The sensation of you below him, warm and solid, and the rough-pressure-heat on his cock is all it takes. You swallow his moan as he comes in his pants, wet splotch blooming darkly. His hands tighten around you. Jason pants and moans into your throat, hips weakly grinding his cock against you through it. Red-faced, it takes him longer than it should to realize that you’re cooing at him.

“–good, sweetheart? You were so good for me, taking what you needed.”

Shame and embarrassment light him up, battling with the litany of sweetheart, sweetheart, she called me sweetheart currently striking him dumb. He buries his face into your neck, can feel the temperature difference between his flaming cheeks and your skin.

“’M sorry,” he says meekly, “I didn’t mean to come so fast. Swear it. I’ll do better next time.” Worry curls in his stomach, faint echoes of embarrassment about leaving you unsatisfied. Can’t bear to look you in the eye, feeling stripped back and vulnerable as he is. His hips are still working against yours, grinding the sensitive head of his cock into his damp boxers. You laugh.

“What’re you talking about, Jay? You were perfect, so perfect for me sweetheart.” And Jason wants to crawl out of his skin because ‘perfect’ is not a word that gets applied to him often. Not one that he thought applied now, coming in his pants so quickly, before he’s even made you feel good. Ignoring the stubborn prickling at the backs of his eyes and the warmth quickly spreading down his chest, he kisses the sweet column of your throat.

“Wanna return the favour,” he whines, licking up the salt of your skin. Your grip tightens in his hair.

“Yeah? You gonna be good for me again?” you tease, breathless. One of your hands grips his own, glides it down to the elasticized waistband of your underwear.

Jason’s pretty sure he’s been electrified when he feels just how wet you are. He’s also pretty sure this is the closest he’s ever gotten to a pretty girl’s underwear too. Thick fingers glide easily between your folds. You’re hotter than he expected, slick collecting in his palm. His index finger catches on your entrance, thumb hunting for your clit. He knows he’s found it when you sigh into his ear, and he grins. Maybe he’s not so bad at this whole sex thing after all. Slowly, he starts to spear you open on one thick finger and chokes. Jason’s never felt anything so fucking tight. He groans into your collarbone. Your walls tighten up around him at the vibration and it goes straight to his cock. If he hadn’t just come, he’d be making a mess in his pants right now. Again. The thought of how good your slick, wet, heat would feel squeezing around his cock vice-like has him lightheaded.

“Can I– please can I?” he begs, delirious with how badly he wants this.

“Gotta use your words, sweetheart,” you say breathlessly, voice hitching as he fucks his finger back into you. “Need to ask for what you want.”

“Please, please, can I fuck you? Want it. Want it so bad,” Jason whines. He can taste the want, sparks dancing on his tongue, blood rushing in his ears. His whole body aches with it.

“S’all you had to say, sweetheart.” A hand grips him through his damp jeans and he bucks into the touch, a writhing mass of nerves and need. “You gonna take care of me? Huh?” The zipper inches down and he almost sobs. “Gonna be good to me, sweetheart?” All the air rips out of his lungs at the burning brand of a palm finally touching his spent cock. 

Jason doesn’t recognize his own voice, high and reedy, babbling “I promise, I promise, I promise.” He’s gasping, greedy, mouth open and searching blindly for yours. 

He whimpers – the Red Hood honest to god whimpers – when you pull away. His brain starts to come back online when you start tugging at the hem of his shirt and he almost face plants into the mattress in his eagerness to get his pants and shirt off at the same time. You laugh as your bra hits the floor somewhere to the side of the bed and pull him down for another kiss, a soft nip at the swell of his bottom lip that has him trailing after you. Your legs open to cradle his hips and Jason figures this must be the next best thing to paradise. He shudders at the pressure of his cock trapped between your bellies.

“Now you’re gonna give me all–” you give a slow roll of your hips that has Jason’s vision going blurry at the feeling of every inch of him trapped between you, “– of that. You’re gonna be this–” another slow, filthy roll that has him cotton-mouthed, “–deep in me, sweetheart, and you’re gonna keep fucking me until I tell you to stop.” Your hand at the nape of his neck pulls his hair back until he’s looking right in the eye. It’s a hungry, dark stare that greets him and Jason thinks that if this is what it’s like to be eaten alive, he’ll die a happy man (if you’ll let him).

He gets so distracted by the wicked grin on your face that he barely notices the hand guiding his cock to your entrance until the head is pushing into your burning heat. His mouth snaps shut and his jaw clenches, desperate to keep it together. Your legs lock around him, urging him forward. Inch by inch he slowly thrusts his way into you, sanity hanging on by a thread as he fights the urge to just fuck into your tight cunt. Finally, finally, his hips meet yours, cock fully sheathed inside of another person for the first time. He pants open mouthed into the side of your neck, trying so hard to be good for you. 

“Not a virgin now, are you sweetheart?” you whisper, hand stroking through his sweaty curls. “Now move.”

Like a shot from one of his beloved .45s, Jason starts pistoning into you, pulling his cock out until it’s almost slipping out and hammering right back in to the hilt. You’re tight, so fucking tight that he doesn’t know how he’s ever gonna go back to his fist after this. His rhythm’s sloppy, cunt drunk and chasing his next high but he can’t make himself stop. Sweat beads on his chest and tears dot his lashes. He howls as you cant your hips up and drag a hand across his chest, nails catching on a nipple. The slippery clutch of your cunt burns away all his good intentions, just a mewling, writhing creature desperate to feel good. The burning heat in his gut is building, his arms trembling from exertion. Its too soon, too soon for him to be ready to come again but the high in his veins and the tenseness in his belly are screaming otherwise.

It’s not fair, he’s– he’s trying so hard and it’s not fair because you haven’t even come once and here he is being greedy and about to come again. It’s not fair. There’s real tears of frustration beading up in his eyes now, face and body flushed red, sticky sweet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryI’msorryM’sorry,” he keens, high and hysterical as he comes, hot pulsing spurts deep inside you. He’s not– it’s not stopping God why is it not stopping? He’s never come for this long but it just won’t stop and he can’t move, not with your ankles locked so tight around his hips. Jason’s face burns with the shame, eyes screwed up tight and trying not to tear the sheets fisted in his hands. A hand cups his face, runs a thumb lovingly over a cheekbone until he screws up the courage to crack open his eyes a smidge.

“There’s my sweetheart. Doing so well for me.” A finger brushes away the tear threatening to fall from the corner of his eye. “Felt so good you just couldn’t stop yourself from coming again, hmm?” you clench down on his cock and the punched out sound that leaves him has Jason shying away in embarrassment. “None of that now. Not when you’re being so good.” You bite down on the tendon in his neck, grinning around your teeth as his whole body shudders, before laving a broad tongue over it. “You’ve still gotta job to do, don’t you? Gotta fuck all of your cum into me, gotta keep it where it belongs.”

Jelly limbed, its easy to push Jason onto his back. His cock never even leaves your cunt. Gravity does all the work as you spear yourself open on him. He moans, high punched out little things, cock bullying even deeper into you. Jason’s so sensitive now, riding the edge of pleasure-pain like a knife. He feels flayed open, nerves raw, as you grind and clench yourself up and down his shaft. You pull one of his palms to your breast, teach him how to squeeze it, the way you like having your nipples pinched and rolled. You ride him and every time you pull off of him Jason holds his breath until you’re fucked back down onto him. He’s so overstimulated it hurts, teeth grinding as you continue to fuck him for your pleasure, like he’s just the guy that happens to be attached to a fat dick.

“I didn’t say to stop, did I?”

[maiamore]

TRICK OR TREAT

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak Rating: 18+ | W/C: 3.3k

Summary: Joel deals with the hard part of raising a little girl when she turns out to be a sneaky teenager. He decides to bring her back by barging into a party uninvited and learns a very sweet lesson he might just bring home with him.

Tags: orgasm denial, handjob but not really, use of degrading terms, brat taming, unspecified legal age gap, sexualisation of a halloween costume not meant to be creepy please take it with a grain of salt

A/N: heavily inspired by this tiktok that had me in a chokehold for weeks, i’m a slut for the single dad trope god help me.

MASTERLIST | EXTRA

One of the worst things in the world might just be having to deal with the fact that your little girl would grow into the dreaded phase—being a goddamned sneaky teenager. Joel didn’t think it would’ve happened to him this soon. 

It had been a definite no to going to whoever’s at wherever’s when Sarah asked him for permission last week. But now—he was standing in his empty home holding a greasy brown takeout bag—with a very missing daughter. It didn’t take a genius to know where she might’ve gone.  Joel tried his damndest not to let his anger riddled mind cloud his judgement. After all, he was once a teenager too. Even though it might’ve been a long long time ago, he understood, didn’t he? 

Sneaking out of his window to head down to his buddy Adler’s place for cheap beer and a good time. Getting to see the prettiest girls in Austin County wearing next to nothin’, so willing and impressionable.

Yeah. Maybe he didn’t want to understand. 

God knows he’d been exhausted. Ten hours working through sweat inducing, back breaking labour. Even making a stop at Starbucks for the stupid bear claw Sarah loved. He had to remind himself—although it wasn’t exactly a comfort—that parenthood was a thankless job.

His bulky, dirtied work boots crunched over artificial autumn leaves on the front lawns of a much richer neighborhood. Dark skies lit up with an amber hue with the sheer amount of halloween knick knacks—through the gated fences and all, he took in the sight of the over the top front yard. Eyeing the cheesy decorations, an ache filled his heart at the sight of the carved pumpkins. It reminded him of the pumpkins he had all loaded up in his navy Chevrolet. 

Sarah had been begging to carve pumpkins together and he’d spent nearly two hours at Home Depot picking ones she liked. “Dad! You gotta pick the good ones.” She was too much like her mother in that aspect. Persnickety. A trait he loved and hated—but his little girl had gotten all the good traits between him and his ex. Or so he thought. The ache he felt in his chest quickly manifested into indignation. He was pissed—the metaphorical dark cloud muddled his mind and vein popping out on his furrowed brows. Being a single dad was hard enough, he’d always been patient. But this counted as blatant disrespect in his mind. It was something he refused to let go without consequence.

Ironically, he’d blended in. Still in his work clothes-hardened after a long day, rugged and sweaty. Worn out dark green flannel, dirty work boots dragging across the sticky floors. A perfect contractor type 'costume'.

Before he even managed to get far in the house, his footing stutters when something hooks around the back of his tool belt that hung loosely on his hips. His line of sight followed what seemed to be a blue hook. Joel blinks, confused, now looking down at a woman who seemed older than the juvenile crowd she was in.

She was...dressed head to toe in a Bo Peep costume. It was endearing just how much effort this whole number would've probably needed. Had it down to the damn crook with an ankle length milkmaid dress.

What you didn't expect, was to be met face to face with the kind of face you'd find in your mom's nudie mags that she kept poorly hidden. Tired looking, brooding but charming in a rugged way. He was an all fuckin' Red-Blooded American man. You shook your thoughts away as quickly as it came. You had to focus on the stranger in your home.

Drawing your crook back, you adjusted the white bonnet on your head with its curved edge—knocking the crook onto the ground, in a futile effort to seem intimidating. Which was failing miserably. You were certain your expression was giving you away.

His deep brown eyes makes an exaggerated pass over your costume. You step back, giving him the same once-over with your arms crossed. The hell was some dirty looking old man doing here? You eyed the toolbelt that hung on his hips down to the dirtied outfit, it could very well be a costume but it'd looked a little too realistic. 

Joel shifted, the faintest flicker of self-awareness tugging at his posture. His hand came up, rough and calloused, the kind of hands that look like they shaped wood into frames and sanded edges smooth. He drags his thumb absently across his jeans, trying to smudge away a streak of grime that clung stubbornly to the fabric. It only half worked. Your brows quirked at his gesture as if you'd just found a crack in the drywall. 

"I don't remember ordering a plumber."

"Funny," he shot back, "was bout’ to ask where your flock was.”

You gave Joel an unimpressed look. Lips pursed with eyes a little narrowed. Willing yourself to not laugh at his wit.

“Lookin' for my daughter,” he explained gruffly, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “She snuck out. Thinkin’ she might be here.”

Your brows furrowed even further at your flimsy explanation. “Uh, not possible.” You retort simply. Blocking his way as he’d tried to pass. 

“I’d personally made sure it was known to the parents that they’d be here.” You adjust your stance. Although your size had no match for Joel’s, he could’ve probably flung you aside if he’d wanted to. 

“Gotta be more specific dude.”

He towers over you, broad shoulders blocking your view of the living room completely. You tip your head up to look at the source of the dark shadow casted over you. 

“Sarah Miller. Curly hair. Brunette. My daughter.”

You instinctively backed into the shoe racks by the hallways. Eyes widening at the sudden blatant invasion of your space. You were pretty sure he’d heard you swallow in nervousness. Your lips parted to speak but the words had died somewhere in your throat. 

You could smell him. Fuck. Musky, earthy…why the hell was that such a good smell? 

You blinked a few times before snapping back into your usual persona. Squinting, you try to recall where you’d heard that name. 

“Wait—…Sarah Miller? Yeah. I know her. Her dad said no to coming.” You said with folded arms. Sure of yourself. Though that made you pause. So this was her dad. Joel Miller. 

“She’s…she’s not here as far as I know.”

He raised a brow at your response. He’d noticed your reaction, the subtle swallow, the hitch in your breath, the way your gaze lingered on him for longer than you had to wasn’t lost on him either. 

“And I would know. I’m chaperoning this damn thing.” You said simply, properly introducing yourself and how you’d been hosting the party for your younger brother. Joel barely acknowledges the details. His eyes flicked past you to scan the room, then back again, sizing you up as if you were withholding something. It was clear he wasn’t here for small talk.

“You sayin’ I been lied to?”

“I don’t know who lied to you. But this is my house. Well—” 

Your parents. But he didn’t need to know that. “But I know what goes on around here. Alright?” You shot back. A little more defensive than you intended to be. Wetting your lips in nervousness. “She’s 19. Just call her.”

Joel watched you speak, his eyes lingering on your parted lips. The way the light played on them, the subtle shine of your tongue as you wet them. He was starting to forget why he’d come here to find Sarah.

He furrowed his brows, not really in annoyance, but in thought. “She’s not pickin’ up. That’s why I came over.”

“And what makes you think she’d be here?”

He’d run a hand down his bearded jaw, looking a little impatient. He didn’t like being questioned like this, not to mention having one of the prettiest girls he’d seen in a long time being the one to challenge him. 

“Gut feelin’. Father’s instinct. Call it what you want,” he said, meeting your gaze. “Don’t matter if you ain’t helpin’, I’ll go lookin’ for her my damn self.”

Joel hadn’t given you a chance to process his words, let alone respond when he’d bulldozed his way past you. Luckily, you’d stumbled back into some kid heading out the hallways.

You straightened up, still reeling at being unceremoniously shoved aside. A laugh bubbled out, half-amused, half-exasperated, as you straightened yourself.  It wasn’t everyday that an agonizingly sexy, single dad barged through your space and swept you out of the way like you were crumbs on a table.

Joel had been scanning through the crowd for what seemed to be forever, his expression permanently etched into a scowl. Shoving past rowdy college frat kids. He shot a quick look over the inebriated partygoers. They were barely even wearing costumes—if that even constituted as clothes to begin with. When did lingerie turn into appropriate Halloween attire?

His thoughts then strayed to you. A pretty little thing. There was something deliberate about the way you carried yourself, a quiet confidence reflected in the costume you thoughtfully crafted down to the details. Ribbons n’ frills and all.

Joel cleared his throat, jaw tightening against an intrusive thought. He didn’t even know you. But the way your wide eyes had met his earlier—and those soft, glossy lips of yours. It stirred something deep inside him, a quiet ache in a part of him he’d long ignored.

He snaps out of his daze when a younger girl rushes past him. And he catches it—curly brown locks. Joel doesn’t hesitate, closing the distance within a few long strides. “Sarah!” His hand shoots out to grab the arm of an unsuspecting party goer, she looks at him, mortified. “—Shit. Sorry. Thought you were...” He manages when he realises. Sighing as he raises both palms up, stepping away from the girl. “—...my daughter.” He says, more so to himself.

He draws his head back. A hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The feeling that he might be overreacting about the fact that his daughter had snuck out creeps in. He stops by the stairwell, his exhaustion finally catching up to him.

Looking up at a figure moving past him, he then stops a younger guy mid-step, a kid in a sad excuse for an Indiana Jones costume, clutching a red solo cup. “You,” the boy, obviously a little inebriated, blinks as he sways slightly. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Where’d you get that?” Joel nods at the cup.

Indiana Joke squints as though processing that question took some real effort. “Oh dude, there’s a table—like, over there. Just grabbed mine. It’s free, man.”

“Great. Thanks.” Joel, again, doesn’t wait for permission, snatching the cup right out of the boy’s hand. He takes a swig grimacing at the taste of nasty room temperature beer. He crushes the cup in his fist, shoving it back toward the stunned kid. “Here. ‘preciate it.”

“Right on, dude!” the kid slurs, throwing up a lazy hang-loose sign before wandering off, blissfully unbothered.

He huffs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the kids carefree jock vibe. Though his patience—or what little he had to begin with—wears dangerously thin. As he scans the room, his gaze catches on a flimsy strip of tape that half-heartedly cordoned off the staircase. Probably meant to keep people from heading upstairs though was doing a piss-poor job of it.

Joel’s jaw tightens at the idea of Sarah being up there with some—... He moves before fully understanding the weight of his actions. Heavy work boots drags across the floors as he ducks underneath the tape to head upstairs. He paces around the hallway, it was nothing like his home for sure. Looking around at a framed picture of what seemed to be a damn soup can. He cringes, noticing a room to the left. By the time he pushes his door in, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

Sarah M. (10:15pm): Dad. Are you coming home soon?

Joel freezes mid-step. What? Did he make a mistake? His brow knits into a furrow, rubbing the back of his neck as he tips his head up to look into the room. Joel stares around the room for a moment, taking in the empty, though very much lived in space. The kind of room that he wasn’t about to admit just how much he liked it. 

He steps further inside, cautious, his boots presses into the creaky floorboards. His eyes trailed over the setup—a CD player sitting on top of an oak shelf, band posters and old movie memorabilia lining the dark green walls. His fingers brushes over the weathered spines of a Lord Of The Rings trilogy tucked into the shelves. “Man after my own heart,” Joel mutters, then eyeing over a Bachelor’s Degree hung on beside the shelves, reading—your name.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

A voice echoes through the dark room, the space lighting up in an amber hue with the click. Joel whips around to look at you. He moves away from your shelves, though, he doesn’t look quite as apologetic for someone who’d just been caught lurking in a place he shouldn’t have been.

“It’s bad enough you just bulldozed into a party you weren’t invited to, but now you’re lurking around in my room?” 

He doesn’t quite respond to your anger. Folding his arms to observe just how much you could mouth off at him uninterrupted.

"Careful, now."

“…Oh you sick fuck—” You mused. “Bet you aren’t even Sarah’s dad.” Stepping a little closer to him. “Getting your rocks off to your fantasies of girls who could be your daughter’s ag—”

His gaze hardens visibly, jaw ticking at your accusations.

“Darlin’”, you’d shut up right then, throat tightening as he steps closer to you. You weren’t sure why you wanted to push him like this, but you had.

Swallowing thickly at the raw desire builds in your core now that you both were now alone, isolated from the prying, juvenile crowd. The proximity wasn’t helping either. You hadn’t noticed before, but Joel had a way of monopolizing people to his liking without even trying. Dark brown eyes threatening to break past your barriers.

“I ain’t your daddy, sweetheart. S’not on me to put you in your place.” His hands planted on the edge of the dresser behind you, essentially trapping you. He leans down more so he could be level with you. 

“But girls like you need to learn, don’t they?” He whispers against the side of your head, the baritone in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod dumbly. Chewing on the inside of your lips. 

“Yeah?” He hummed. A slow hum of approval at your pliance. A far cry from the intolerable shit you were earlier. “Y’wanna be good for me, huh?”

His gaze scanned through your features, detecting any signs of fear. He found nothing but your arousal in your eyes reflecting his own. “Answer me.”

“Yes—…yes. I do.” You breathed out. Finding yourself snug between the dresser and Joel’s imposing figure. 

“All dressed up proper n’ good.” He’d sighed into his words. Thumb coming up to rub over the pieces of fabric that covered your nipples. Joel wasn’t sure why, but it did more for him that you hid whatever you had to offer in your costume.

Teasing, coaxing the sensitive buds out over the lace. “What’s wrong, baby?” 

You couldn’t do anything but clench your thighs in frustration at the lack of direct contact against your tits. Couldn’t trust yourself to speak either.

What a fucking jerk. 

Joel’s other hand cupped around your other breast, kneading it into his rougher palms. It feld good, god, it felt so fucking good. You felt his thumb drag the ruched fabric that covered your chest to caress the sensitive buds. A soft gasp left your lips, saccharine sweet. 

He’d wasted no time to dip his head down to suck your neglected tit into his waiting mouth. Other hand shifting down to slip beneath your dress. Gathering the fabric by your waist. You let out a strained moan when you feel a  finger pushing the gusset of your panties aside to probe a finger into your already soaked pussy. “Lord a’mercy. Bo peep’s a fuckin’ slut now ain’t she?”

A strangled moan left your lips. Furrowing your brows to the edge in his words. “If you’ve got nothing nice to say maybe you should just shut the fuck u–ahhh–..p!” You gasped, arching your back to the intensity as he’d continued ministrations. 

He fucked your needy pussy with just his thick finger. Your cunt sucked him in desperately, convulsing around him. Joel grunted against your ears. Your sweet moans nearly enough to make him cum. He knew the second he slipped his cock into that soft pussy he’d never be able to stop. 

But he couldn’t allow you that pleasure. 

You watched in anticipation as he’d palmed his quickly hardening cock over his jeans, twisting his toolbelt around so the tools attached wouldn't hurt you.

“What a fuckin’ mess.” He mutters, ridding your pussy of his finger. With a slight tilt of his head, you’d understood enough. 

Sinking to your knees for him wordlessly. It didn’t matter that your knees were debasing yourself deliberately before him. You wanted to pleasure this man. Desperately. Your dress pooled full around you, providing Joel with a sight he didn’t quite realise he’d come to love.

Feeling his hand tangle into your hair to press your cheeks against his jeans. You’d let out a soft whine. Nuzzling your nose against the stiffening bulge.

You’d heard a dull clink of a belt. Staring up at Joel with a coquettish gaze.

You watched as he freed his thick cock from his jeans. Rough hands that engulfed the entirety of your face tilted your face up to look at him. “Don’t think you deserve this baby.”

You’d let out a huff of annoyance mixed with lust and impatience. He was intentionally fucking with you. 

His heavy cock leaks with pre-cum, moving to smear the milky liquid against your cheeks. He’d let out a groan. Opting to fuck his cock through tight ring of his thumb and index fingers. You’d tried to tilt your head, just so you could attempt to wrap your lips around the weeping tip, but you were met with a harsh tug at the back of your head. 

“Uh-uh.” He warned. Forcing you to just watch as he pumped his cock before your face. You could smell him, slightly sweaty from the day’s work, but the heady scent just made you ache all the more. 

In an effort to ease the pain of your throbbing cunt, you’d attempt to slip your fingers into your soaked folds beneath your dress, only to be met with another tug. A disappointed sigh leaving his lips. “Never gonna learn.”

He jerks his cock languidly. Dry rubbing his cock with wince. A finger comes down to slip into your pouty lips. “S’this what you want? Stuffin’ your pretty mouth full with my cock?”

Your tongue wraps around his fingers. Hollowing your cheeks, drooling over it, you take them deeper before he pulls out of your lips with a slick pop. A trail of saliva following. He smirks down at you, lightly smearing the messiness against the bottom of your lips.

With the wetness gathered, he strokes himself easily. Groaning at how you were peering up at him through your lashes. Just waiting like a good girl for a reward that would never come.

He could feel himself getting dangerously close now, his hefty sack tightening up, ready to burst. With a grunt, he lets go of your hair, grabbing around your jaw once more. He pries your lips apart with his thumb.

“Fuck. Open up f’me.”

He angles his heavy cock to rest on your tongue. Groaning as his thick, warm cum spurts into your mouth. Not even letting you enjoy the notion when pulls away before tucking himself back in. 

You’d pitifully looked up at him with your wide eyes blown out with lust. Confused at his lack of attention to you. He’d helped you up. Tapping your jaw condescendingly. 

“Oughta watch what comes out of your pretty mouth next time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed a little more as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheeks before leaving you to stew in your own blue-balls. You lifted your wrists to wipe over your lips, tasting the remnants of his salty come. A vibration in your dress pocket catches your attention. 

Shithead (11:04pm): “Dropped Sarah back home earlier. Don’t think her dad will find out. Thanks sis, owe you one.”

[gamblersdoll]

izuku being a creep by taking way more notes about you. i mean, he writes notes about everyone and everything, but you? could be the most interesting thing you didnt even realize about yourself.

he could know about the beauty mark on your sternum, your back, or behind your ear. you wouldnt be able to know since you never really paid attention to that stuff.

or the fact that when it gets a tad bit humid, your hair curls or puffs up just a tad, and certain parts arent even. okay, you could know that, but the unevenness you wouldnt.

or maybe the fact that you smell of faint strawberry fanta, (it being your bodywash.) okay, that was a bit weird. because only you are in your bathroom. maybe it was just the fragrance was potent.

what threw you off was when he left his notes open, giving you access to look through them. (he permitted you to have access since you needed them for class.) yet, he knows what panties you wear, and how the smell after you wear them.

your heart lurches into your throat.

“no foul odor, unlike some. distance of smell of sweat and fabric. its a nice sweat-musk smell!” its written, okay. maybe it wasnt about you, but definitely someone. this was borderline creepy, so you switch to the next page.

“y/n’s bra’s smell like sweat and a fruity scent after a hard day’s work. maybe its her perfume, but it smells so good.” your eyes read, swallowing thickly and biting the inside of your cheek.

what the fuck was izuku saying? theres no way he was a peeping tom, this had to be a set up for him.

little did you know, he had been watching you shower for a good couple on months. he loves the way soap trails down your skin, onto the hood of your clit and down your lips.

he loves the way the soap gets a sheer of your plump asscheeks, watching you take your washcloth and cleanse the area and cheeks. he has to bite his knuckles to not moan, to not growl and give himself away. he tried so hard to not bust in and bend you over.

he loves the fact you also go commando.. alot. loves how you have your own pair of boxers to let your pretty cunt breathe— or just not wear panties to bed. he also loves how grumpy you get on the days before, or during your period.

god, those days make him go crazy. he tries to not take you and rub your body into his form.

and what else makes him crazy? ovulation. you get the need to breed, to be fucked so relentlessly to where you need to be dumbified.

he knows way too fucking much, considerably the fact that he has more eyes and ears than anyone knew.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Having an OnlyFans

Warnings: 18+, Non-Explicit Implied Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Imagery, Territorial MW2 👀, Possessive MW2  👀👀, MW2 having a Crush on Reader, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost

Initially, he was in disbelief.

Denial, even.

But when you accidentally sent him a link to your OnlyFans instead of a link to the website of the restaurant you were visiting, Simon’s heart almost stopped.

You deleted the link immediately after, but it was too late.

The tab was already open on his browser.

Despite his agility and lightning reflexes, this situation is not one he’s going to be able to bounce back from quickly.

Will just stare at his phone for a minute or so before eventually starting to understand that yes, you did just send him evidence of your goings-on online.

And yes, you had just confirmed that you made intimate images of yourself accessible to whoever wanted them, though for a hefty fee.

You know your worth; you charge above average.

For days afterwards, the idea of you compromising yourself haunts him.

He doesn’t condemn you for your actions. Far from it !

He’s just surprised he hadn’t found out sooner. That he’d failed to read you well enough to know that this is what you did for work.

And, trying to justify to himself that it’s ‘just out of curiosity’ and ‘a need to confirm that it is actually you’ who is featured on the account, Simon buys a subscription.

He’s glad he waited a while since the appearance of a new subscription days after the incident is much less suspicious than receiving one right after.

Let’s just say, whatever morbid fancy Simon had before seeing your work transformed into a ravenous appetite after he’d seen what you had to offer.

Can’t see you the same way afterwards. But in the best way possible.

When he looks at you, he feels like he knows a secret.

Sure, he does feel creepy when you look at him, not knowing that he’s beaten himself off to videos and pictures of you approximately eight times that week.

But he tries to justify it. Again.

He’s supporting your business, he’s being a good friend (he winces when the word passes him by like a phantom), he’s…

He’s absolutely eneamoured with the way you look.

And the fact that he knows you personally – that he can (and has) heard you call his name – makes whatever little fantasy you’re acting out feel that much more real.

His favourite image of you is one where you have your arms bound above your head.

He always finds himself coming back to it.

Until one day he realises…How are you tying those ropes by yourself ?!

It’s impossible. Simon knows because he’s tried it on himself (don’t ask). So now he’s faced with the burning question of: Who is helping you with these shoots ?

And why isn’t it him ?!

König

Didn’t realise what he’d stumbled upon at first.

One minute, he was checking your socials to see how you were doing while he was away.

The next, he was at a sign-up page for something he’d never heard about.

The fact that it asked for his bank details left him somewhat suspicious, but your endorsement of the site – your claim of it being ‘The best investment of your life <3’ eased him into a false sense of security.

Oh, how König condemned his trusting nature.

Past the paywall, König didn’t know what to expect.

Whatever he could have dreamt of, he never expected it to be…this.

You in the most indecent images he’d ever seen.

Yes, König did scream when he realised what he was seeing. Yes, he did close the tab out of sheer panic.

After a minute, then two, he found the ability to breathe again.

His phone quivered in his hand, his grip a python about its glass neck.

Sighing shakily, König dared to unlock his phone.

Swallowing thickly, he approached the OnlyFans tab.

Opening it, he gasped, your likeness filling his screen and his mind once again.

“Oh, (Y/N),” he said, nobody else about to hear him save for himself. “What have you done ?”

After the aftershock fizzled out, König’s cheeks warmed.

Though, whether of anger, disappointment, or something else, he could not be sure.

He’d enjoyed thinking of the two of you as more than friends. For a while now, too.

And you hadn’t helped: not with how you took to his lap as if it were your throne, how you’d bend and hit him at just the right angle when he was behind you, reaching up for something.

Not with how you clung to him and whined his name at night when you slept over, always a doe-eyed look accompanying whatever minimal favour you were about to ask of him.

So to see you capitalise on yourself like this before he’d ever even seen your bare torso made him…

Territorial.

“I can’t let you get away with this, Engel,” he promised. Your smiling face was oblivious to his threat.

He palmed the bulge in his pants, his grip on his phone tightening.

“One way or another,” he found himself smiling. “You will be mine.”

Soap

Buys a subscription immediately.

He genuinely only did it as a joke to embarrass you. At first.

A rather expensive joke, mind you.

He almost choked on his energy drink when he saw your lowest monthly rate.

Whatever.

He bought it.

And his mind promptly went blank.

When seeing a friend in a compromising position, one typically tends to look away, either out of respect or embarrassment.

Soap didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He just stared at the image of you with your legs spread and your face the image of viscous lust.

Only after every pixel of that image was burned into his memory could Johnny look down.

And there, between his legs, sat a growing, pulsing, aching problem.

One which he had been vaguely aware of yet entirely unwilling to accept.

Every time your likeness throbbed in his mind, he felt himself twitch.

He sighed, his hand a resting place for his face as a dark dawn of realisation washed over him.

For what was unlikely the first time, Soap dealt with himself to the image of you, a euphoria he’d never known before shooting through him now he had you to look upon in such delicious detail.

At first, guilt impeded him, strangled his chest, propelling the likelihood of you walking through his door at any minute and catching him like this.

But all caution threw itself to the wind as the promise of release clouded his judgement.

“Besides,” he told himself. “You let other guys do this. So why not me ?”

After he finished, post-nut clarity settling over him, Johnny couldn’t help but feel dirty.

Getting off to the image of his best friend in such gruesome detail while they were completely unaware…

Sure, he’d done it before, but the fantasies had been vague enough for Soap to evade guilt.

Until now.

But, even so, with the weight of his actions on his shoulders, Johnny couldn’t bring himself to loathe his actions.

Not when you made yourself up so pretty for him.

Something tells him that this won’t be the last time he visits your page.

Valeria

This woman is already possessive to the max, so to see you posting content of yourself at your most intimate angles is nothing short of infuriating.

Regardless of whether you’re hers yet or not (you already belong to her, Valeria just doesn’t have the official title of ‘girlfriend’ yet), she will have something to say about your page.

Of course, she’s upset. Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But more than anything, she’s…

Hurt.

Hurt that you never told her about your little account. Hurt that you didn’t trust her enough to let her know that this is what you did for work.

You weren’t obligated to, but where Valeria is concerned, there is no excuse.

Will drive up to your house in the dead of night and interrogate you.

And when she’s got you crying and shaking and apologising for having a career, she consoles you.

“I’m not angry,” she says, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes are hard; black pearls. “Just disappointed.”

Female manipulator 100%.

She’ll tease you every now and then because of your account, nothing but playful banter (as she calls it). But you can tell there’s venom to her words.

Especially when she refuses to let you pursue it as a career anymore.

“Your body is for me to see alone, Mi Amor.”

Price

This DILF may not know how technology works, but he does know that he likes what he sees when a grotesque little picture of you floods his screen.

Don’t ask how he got here; that’s not important.

What is important is how full of you his mind is both during and after the initial discovery of your OnlyFans.

All he can think about as he’s scrolling through your portfolio is how devilishly sly you’ve been as to keep such an impressive career a secret from him of all people.

Like some kind of secret.

He’ll definitely tease you about it – drop eerily familiar turns of phrase into conversation with you, ones which you’d used on the captions of your pictures.

Calls you things which you refer to yourself as online: “Prince/Princess”, “Puppy/Kitty”, an extremely specific nickname that you’re certain you’ve never mentioned around him before.

He just loves watching you squirm under the false scrutiny in his eyes as you question yourself as to whether he’s found you out.

Little do you know that he’s your most generous benefactor, tipping you most ardently on your posts where the angle of the camera gives him a glimpse of what lays beneath the thin layers of your robe.

Comments something like ‘Fucking beautiful, Love. Keep up the good work for Daddy x’

And, when he’s ready to let you know that, yes, he has been following you for months, he’ll repeat that same sentence as his mouth is to your ear, his head just over your shoulder, as he guides your hands as he teaches you how to defend yourself.

And the feeling of your body stiffening, stepping back into him in disbelief and rubbing him just right is enough to send him over the edge, his breath shuttering, his hips pressing into yours.

Horangi

Despite the disciplinary values the military taught Horangi, nothing can restrain the sheer carnality brewing in his lower half as the video of you bent over a desk, an unknown antagonist taking you from behind filled his computer screen.

If it weren’t for your breathy, whining moans, your glassy eyes and the overwhelming fact that the person I like most is literally on full display in front of me, Horangi may have been mad enough to question who was railing you right now.

That, and why did one of his associates have a subscription to your OnlyFans ?

Better yet – since when did you have an OnlyFans ???

So many questions, and Horangi can’t focus on any of them.

His first instinct is to close the tab – to preserve your privacy, your dignity

But…something stops him.

Call it logic. Call it a sick need to fulfil his own desires, but Horangi stops just short of exiting the tab.

You’re putting this online with only a paywall to separate you from the common man. So why should he feel guilty for seeing it ?

Long story short, Horangi’s shame dies, and there is little that can resurrect it or stop what’s coming next.

For the rest of his mission, his mind drifts back to you – in that position – more often than he’d like it to.

Granted, his mind had wandered to such places long before now, but he’d never had anything so visual to fuel his fantasies save for a time or two when you bent over and your underwear peeked out from beneath your shirt whenever you slept over.

When he gets home – his long-awaited reprieve – he purchases his very own subscription to this newly-found slice of Heaven.

And he gives no indication that he knows of your activities, instead waiting for the day that you ask him for his help in filming your latest masterpiece.

Alejandro

He may not look like it, but Alejandro is lowkey an internet sleuth.

I’m talking, you mention a YouTube video you watched once when you were younger that’s since been removed, based off a blurry thumbnail and Alejandro will finish your sentence like: “Oh, the one with that cat who steps on that leaf and jumps up its owner’s leg,”

So, finding your OnlyFans account isn’t exactly detective work for him when, after an outing with the boys™, he sees you get particularly jumpy when you pull out your phone.

Through the process of elimination, Alejandro concludes that you’re pursuing a more adult career.

And since he follows all your socials, he knows what your handle is likely to be.

And when he finds you in some rather compromising positions on your beloved little app, he can’t help but crack a smile.

“My, my, mi Corazon…What have you been up to ?”

He takes a leisurely stroll through your portfolio, makes a note of some noteworthy posts. Then, he makes a decision. An investment.

He purchases a subscription.

Sure, he could feel guilty about doing so – feel ashamed of his deep-rooted desire to see someone he’s seen as more than a friend exposed in ways he’s only dreamed of so far.

But he takes comfort in the fact that he’s admiring your artistry for what it is; hard work, dedication, and beauty.

Yeah, he still gets off to the stuff you post, but unlike the basement-dwellers who’ll pop a shot to a lewd picture of you and then go upstairs for their dino nuggies and their off-brand energy drink, Alejandro takes time, care, to really analyse your work – to see the colours you’ve used, the camera angles.

And to try and capture even a reflection of the guy who seems to “help” you in your productions.

Rodolfo

Screamed out loud the first time he caught sight of your page, which was open on Alejandro’s phone.

To be honest, he was too dazed by the risque picture of you in a very frail-looking swimsuit to consider the implications of Alejandro having access to your OnlyFans.

At first, he did the only thing he could think of – the gentlemanly thing to do.

Which was to look away; to grant you your privacy and pretend he’d seen nothing.

At first.

Rudy managed to make it a whole 24 hours before, after fighting a losing battle of wills with himself (one which he put little fight into the longer that image of you stewed in his mind), he found himself on your page. Again.

Shamefully, one might add.

And, much to his chagrin, he didn’t hate it.

Nor did it satiate his growing hunger for you.

And, considering how he already liked you well before making this discovery, Rudy is…conflicted, to say the least.

On one hand, you’re letting whoever has an internet connection and a bank card see you in ways that, even in his wildest imagination, Rudy never had.

Conversely, you’re letting whoever has an internet connection and a bank card see you in ways that, until now, Rudy never had.

Two sides of the same coin. Identical outcomes. It just all rested on how Rudy wanted to view the situation; as a hurdle, or an advantage.

A loyal follower of two months now, his evenings spent worshipping the visage of you in what one could barely consider clothing, Rodolfo chose the latter.

And you have no idea. And Rudy is going to keep it that way until he feels you’re ready to learn that your top contributor is the man who’s sat beside you right this second as you stay at his house for a sleepover; one upon which you rest your head and listen to the deceptively steady beating of his heart.

Graves

Not that he would admit it, but he felt somewhat offended the first time he found out about your OnlyFans account.

Bruised his ego considerably ☹️

He took your self-sufficiency personally.

Did you not believe he could provide for you ? Is that why you turned to…adult practices ?

He sulked about it for a little while – about a day or two – before the fact that the person he’d been – dare he say it – crushing on for the last few months had an ONLYFANS ACCOUNT.

Needless to say, he hopped right back on his computer and got to buying your most elite subscription available.

Yeah, perhaps the idea that a couple thousand or so other weirdos were ooglign your body aside from himself bothered him. But he wasn’t exactly whiter than white himself, so he dropped the subject (with himself).

However, his jealous tendencies do lead him to some rather unorthodox places.

Has genuinely, seriously considered acquiring OnlyFans to try and get you scrubbed off the platform.

His accountant managed to (eventually) convince him otherwise after drilling it through his skull “How questionable this would look on your company record, Sir.”

And then, obviously, Graves decided to just try and buy the internet.

Bless him, he may be a CEO, but he isn’t a boyboss. Or tech-savvy.

Regardless, he eventually cools off and actually sees this situation as playing to his advantage.

He could already feel the cogs in his turning as he realised that you didn’t know he’d seen your account, nevermind contributed to it.

And thus began Philly’s plan to make you so financially dependent on him through anonymous donations and financial contributions. A hostile takeover, as it’s known in the trade.

Gaz

Since he is both the youngest and the most tech-savvy of the 141, he knows what he’s doing.

He’d heard a whisper while traversing your socials that you owned a fabled OnlyFans account.

And, like the good friend he was, instead of embarrassing you and asking you directly, he went on the hunt for it himself.

Okay, maybe he didn’t do this without your knowledge out of pure chivalry – rather a need to see if there was a possibility that, yes, you posted yourself online for money.

And, perhaps, a need to see if he can get his hands on some of those images himself…

Eventually, ever the internet sleuth he is, Gaz found your account.

And boy, did he underestimate what he thought he’d find.

“Jesus, (Y/N)...What have you been doing ?”

But that isn’t to say he didn’t like it.

On the contrary; he couldn’t help but feel drawn to it.

Especially when, in one of the pictures, he saw you drenched in a shirt of his he’d lent to you months ago. One which he still hadn’t gotten back.

He doesn’t pester you about it anymore. Even jokingly.

Though, he is somewhat envious that his shirt gets to be that close to you, especially in those conditions.

That, and…

Wait, who’s taking these pictures ?!

Not that you’d know this, but, his chest alight with the need to identify this mystery victor, those dark rings under Gaz’s eyes when you meet for lunch the next day are for you.

“Gaz, Sweetie, did you get into a fight or something ?”

And Gaz can’t bear to tell you how much an effect the jealousy you’d inadvertently inflicted on him has had on his psyche – had on his sleep schedule as he burnt through the night trawling every image and video of you for any identifying feature of your work partner.

As evidenced by the crusted tissues piling up in the bin beside his desk, to dry his tears and…other fluids.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[unlikelypandahologram]

Reasons to ship every single version of MegOP

since Very Dumb Discourse™ exists about whether or not certain versions of this ship are valid, this is going to be THE most positive post about all versions of MegOP. refer back to this post for reasons to ship your favorite version of MegOP if anyone gets weird about it with you. now let us begin!!

G1: goofy '80s faction dads fighting each other in a denny's parking lot every week LET'S GOOO, that shit is fun as fuck. orion pax also totally had a celeb crush on megatron before megatron ruined that and shot him and his pals 😔 and there's a lot of angst you can add with megatron becoming galvatron and optimus coming back to life to see how much he's changed!

BW: it's the sheer fucking comedy gold factor of a newly minted college graduate and a terrorist dinosaur IMMEDIATELY singling each other out on a prehistoric rock and deciding to call their daily gang slap-fights the BEAST WARS, what iconic drama queens LMAOOOO. also, megatron made his final body in BM look like optimal optimus SPECIFICALLY to fuck with him, and that's just...incredible

UT: the fact that megatron CANONICALLY acted like a grieving widower over optimus after he died in armada is. amazing. never forget their absolutely insane obsession with each other that they can never EVER give up on played a direct part in unicron nearly ending the world <3

Bayverse: this is the one continuity of all fucking things that gave us the lore about megatron being prime's lord high protector. absolute galaxy brain writing from the tie-in comics. also these two would ABSOLUTELY have the messiest, nastiest, most brutal hate sex imaginable, and that's beautiful. <3

Animated: optimus being a rookie washout underdog and megatron being a super scary much older warlord is a really interesting and underrated fresh take on their dynamic! lots of fun to be had with exploring what their relationship would be like after megatron finally acknowledged him as his archnemesis, lol. also...age AND size difference ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Prime: do i even need to say anything, i'm pretty sure that one flashback still of orion and megatronus being friends is responsible for birthing a million shippers for this pairing alone LMAOOOO. the bitter ex-boyfriends energy was TRULY off the charts in this show, it's a damn shame megatron never appeared in RID15

Cyberverse: same bitter ex-boyfriends energy but this time with dates at maccadams. megatron also dies encouraging optimus to beat the unhinged alternate dimension megs AAHH THE ANGST

IDW1: they're both depressed gay war criminals in this one who CONSTANTLY live in each other's heads rent-free and that's amazing, lmfao. also, megatron becoming an autobot means this is one of the VERY FEW continuities where it's not nigh impossible to figure out a way to give these two a happy ending together in fanon

IDW2: space date space date SPACE DATE. they were falling together and everything. megatron also LITERALLY tells optimus to open himself to him...to give him the matrix...yeah megs my dude i'm sure that's the ONLY thing you wanted from optimus "opening" himself. toootally positive, lol

G1 Marvel: megatron was SUPER fucking pissed and weird as shit about the time optimus died over a video game. it counts

Dreamwave: their first fight had megatron urging optimus to join him AND they disappeared together in a space bridge explosion once which is like, a fanfic-esque setup for them to be alone. also i'm pretty sure this is the continuity where optimus accidentally gave megatron a lobotomy, so...uh...potential for angst is to be had

SG: mirror universe!! evil crazy villain optimus with noble goody-goody hero megatron has so much potential for absolute chaos. bonus if you also bring in the normal versions somehow through multiverse shenanigans <3

KP: the only way this version of prime can redeem himself from the creepy underage human girl bullshit is if he gets a good hard dicking from megatron. next

Prime Wars: huge "ex-husbands go on a road trip with their disgruntled daughter" energy here. megatron also LITERALLY says "oh optimus, if only you could see me now" <3

Earthspark: again...need i say why? they're pals and working together from the get-go, what's not to ship??

Skybound: optimus literally wears megatron's arm. truly beautiful <3

TF One: it's not out yet but give it time. the entire movie is going to be about orion and d-16 being madly in love and tragically breaking up, baby!!

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Rhiannon Lewis [2]

pairing: Rhiannon Lewis x reader note: let my girl be creepy and off-putting. part 1

Rhiannon always manages to run into you randomly throughout the day when you first start dating, always when you least expect it and always when you're alone. At first it's cool to run into her a few times, but then it starts to become a little concerning. But every time she just smiles at you and waves it off. After all, you work together, so you probably live in the same area, right? 

So fucking jealous, but in a way that's not immediately obvious. She gets quiet whenever you bring up other girls, no matter how inconspicuous the mention is. She's insecure, sure, but more than anything she's considering what to do. Rhiannon can't just kill the cashier who smiles at you as she's not a bully–trust that Rhiannon triple-checked–but she is going to do some petty shit like post negative reviews and complain to try to get her fired.

Walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to the road every single time. If you try to stop her from doing it, she'll walk in the road next to you until you scoot over. 

She's become immune to most embarrassments over the years just from sheer exposure alone, and she will use this fact against you. Loudly trying to embarrass you into doing/not doing things based on what she's feeling like at the moment. 

Her 5'2 ass will be squaring up to that 6'4 asshole who was mean to you at the bar, and you will have to drag her kicking and screaming away if you don't want to have to clean her off the sidewalk. She lets herself be dragged away knowing she'll just find him again later after she sneaks back out of your bed after you fell asleep. She'll be back and cuddled up in your arms by the morning like nothing ever happened. Only, why does she smell like your body wash? 

Rhiannon notices things about you that no one in your life would ever even think to notice. She comments on the haircut you got that was just barely a trim, fingers running through your hair and complimenting the change before you've even gotten all the way in the door.

If she knows it's going to rain that day, she'll take your umbrella out of your bag so you'll have to walk really close to her on the way home to stay dry.

Hides your jacket so you’ll have to wear hers whenever you’re going out.

Notices immediately whenever you're stressed or tired. She wants to comfort you but also pushes too hard to know why every time. She drops everything to comfort you. It's almost like she's worried you might be upset with her, even when there's no possible reason you could be. (Is it her? Do you hate her now?) 

She does not allow people to say a single word against you, even if it's deserved. Rhiannon's immediately jumping to your defense and likely making the situation worse, but know that she has your back. 

She's very habitual. If you text her good morning, she wants it at the same time every day, or a deviation from it would ruin the whole rest of her day. If you usually get takeout once a week, she wants it to be on the same day every week. It makes her feel like she has some control over her life when she so often feels out of control. 

You can't need space from her ever, or she'll freak the fuck you. She can't stand the idea of you pulling away from her–of you leaving her. Just keeps calling your phone until you answer, or she'll snow up unannounced banging at your door. Gives you a strained smile and some shit about being in the neighborhood. 

Rhiannon memorizes everything you've ever mentioned liking or disliking, keeping it in the back of her mind at all times. At first she tries to change her behavior to match, but she's not very good at acting and just keeps making a bigger fool of herself than she normally feels like. Plus, you gave her the first weird look she's ever been on the receiving end of from you, and she doesn't want to repeat the experience. 

She has a little box of souvenirs with something from any date you've ever gone on or event you attended together. They're not what you'd strictly consider normal souvenirs–a pen you'd borrowed and returned once months before you started dating, a receipt from when she bought you lunch, stuff like that. It's oddly like a shrine. 

Very possessive, but in a way that feels so endearing you don't necessarily notice. Holds on to your hand all the time, fingers tightly laced with yours. She won't let go of you in public unless she has to, and even then she's trying to pout her way out of having to. Always asking for reassurance in a way that started out kind of sweet but turns into a “You're mine, aren't you?” as the relationship progresses. 

Texts you constantly whenever you're out without her. Wants to know what you're doing, who you're with, where you're going next. She genuinely worries about your safety, but it's mostly just that she doesn't like you out without her. 

Rhiannon's not above manipulating you either. She's all, “Oh, I guess I'll just sit here by myself all night.” She keeps pointing out that there's a killer on the loose. Don't you know that people are getting stabbed to death? 

Hides your keys or your wallet if she doesn't want you going out. 

[wtfdemother]

Slasher AU Terrifier!König weasel lil shit. NSFW below, happy Kinkvember day 14 ☃️🤝

post banners by tsunami-of-tears

CW: Followed for a suspected murder on the opposite side of town, König needs someplace to lay low for a hot minute. Lucky for him, tonight the amusement park was open and bustling with life. And look at that. There’s a scare house. He’ll fit right in, give a real good scare.

Terrifier!König X Curvy!Reader

Terrifier!König who slips into an unsuspecting carnival, not knowing what he was getting himself into. All he was certain of was that this place was perfect to blend in. Who would suspect him? He was a clown covered in blood on the night of a horror-themed park, just remember to ignore that metallic smell.

Terrifier!König who finds himself inside a haunted house after weaving past unsuspecting strangers, too inebriated and care-free to notice that the knife in his hand wasn’t in fact a prop, they’re too concentrated on his sheer size. One even asked if his height and muscles were real, he only shook his head with a dismissive chuckle. He walked through the dark halls, the atmosphere hair-raising and suddenly chilly. Occasionally a blood curdling scream would tear through the silent halls, some poor soul probably got scared by some scare actor… which gave him an idea.

Terrifier!König who tried his hand in scaring a few peeps that passed by, he didn’t have to move at times, letting people judge fully the book by its cover. He looked terrifying, a hulking man with a smile too wide, smeared in red and creepy makeup. He was menacing to look at and soon sent them screaming. But instead of running the opposite direction, the people in their various costumes would hold a hand over their racing heart then laugh it off before moving further into the haunted house.

He was having fun. Until now, when you showed up. Then he wanted a different kind of fun.

Terrifier!König whose mind blanks for a minute, why on earth would you be wearing that? Wearing that viral Modakawa dress, delicate golden linked chains pooling over your hips filling the fabric of the velvety dress nicely with your tits on full display. He peeped the pudge of your belly through the black dress, feeling his cock chub up from the sight of your soft figure. Oh, he wanted to squeeze you so bad… make you scream his name, not in fear. He’s decided.

Terrifier!König who steps out of his spot, you think it’s a part of the scare act. You act all scared but fail miserably as you crumble under a fit of loose giggles. You place a gentle hand on his arm, feeling how tight it was from the muscle. “I’m so sorry… I’m sure you’re usually very scary.” You hiccup, interrupting yourself as you shamelessly let your eyes roam over his broad bod, truly a mountain of a man. You bite your lip, feeling slick down there already, “I… I’m a little drunk and I know you’re just doing your job, so if I could just sneak past you…” You trail off and try to step past him like you said, but he grabs you by the arm.

Terrifier!König whose grip is firm yet mindful while holding you, which is surprising given his size. You’re about to say something but he presses his rough lips to your knuckles and your mind fizzles like bubbles in champagne. While maintaining eye contact, mind you. Then he does it again. And again, and it soon clicks that he’s making his way up your arm. He presses a final kiss to your shoulder, his hand wrapped around your wrist as he pulled you in closer. He gets behind you, the same hand still gripping your wrist while his free arm snakes around your waist, then the other with your hand still in his. Your cheeks are on fire and you don’t know whether to reject his advances or not. But he’s so… yummy.

Terrifier!König who quietly guides you into a nearby closet, you being drunk off your ass and oddly attracted to the zany one let him push you in without question. He treats it like you’re playing seven minutes in heaven, kissing your round cheeks with such a peculiar fascination. He didn’t talk, even when you tried engaging in small talk he remained quiet for the most part. The only time he indulged you in a response was a small grunt when you asked him jokingly if he liked you. It shut you up quickly.

Terrifier!König who marvelled at the sight of the fat of your tits pool between his fingers, the ample flesh enough to fit his large hands. He chuckles softly to himself, almost relieved when you kiss him back without shying away this time. He slowly circles your pebbles nipples with a thumb while his tongue gently explored your mouth, whining mournfully when you felt the warmth missing from his hands when they came to rest on the curve of your thighs. “So weich, meine Liebe,” he murmurs into your ear, giving the shell of your ear a little nip with a rumble in his chest. It sends shivers through your body and a strange warmth coiling down your core. You ask him to wait but he silences you with a patient kiss. “No questions, no doubts, no names… just live with me in the moment…” The clink of his belt coming undone fills the room, he continues to kiss you through the motion of unzipping his fly and somehow, his cracked lips felt like petals brushing your skin.

Terrifier!König who hikes up your pretty dress and tuts when he finds you wearing crotchless panties, he gives your nose a little peck. “Such a naughty thing… so süße.” He takes you roughly on the closet floor, gripping at the fat of your hips with a punishing grip. He can’t get over how supple you feel, you give his cock a good home, your moans are so fucking sweet it almost hurts to hear. “Oh, liebling… du bist so shöne…” he mumbles against the bruised skin on your neck from the numerous hickeys given.

Terrifier!König who shudders above you, caging your form in his goliath embrace while he rams senselessly into your chubby pussy, folding you into a mating press. The lewd position makes the wet, rhythmic sounds more pronounced and obvious, bouncing off the confined walls of the small storage closet. You’re seeing stars and the booze helps voice your shameless groans, they only seem to amplify his desires. He asked if it was good and you nod dumbly while being fucked within an inch of your life. “Yes! Yes! Pleeaase…! So gooddd…~”

Terrifier!König who doesn’t protest when you claw at his back with a resounding pain, the sting somehow heightening his arousal. He’s so close, and he knows you are too. As an act of mercy he slips a hand down to your throbbing clit, massaging it gently but with a certain urgency while your pussy pulsed around his shaft. You’re so close… you whine against his grinning lips. “Komm, liebling, komm…” he murmurs into the kiss, swallowing your moans as you topple over the edge. Your pussy tightens like a vice, milking his balls of every drop of cum he had pent up. He slams his hips once more into your cunt, nestling his heavy cock deep inside your spasming cunny.

To your surprise, he cleans you up and pecks you on the forehead before scrambling off, leaving you dazed on the cold floor and wondering if you’ll ever get to see that odd man again. Someday, maybe. It’s not like he’s a killer, right?…

[baratiddyappreciator]

Hey honey bun sugar plummmm!! Could I get a baki characters with a s/o who has a fat ass (me)

Why of course, thine blessed thiccness will be appreciated!

Baki:

He's more of a tits guy (mommy issues, we all know this) but he absolutely doesn't complain about a bit more cake either. Be it a bubble butt or just genuine cake, he does not mind in the slightest.

That is his ass, thank you very much, so catching others staring or trying to cop a feel will very much wind up in him dishing out swift justice. He's chill about most things, and he doesn't mind others appreciating you as a whole, you're stunning, he knows it, but when they're being gross and pushy about it, that's when he'll step in.

He's got a habit of grabbing people's hips when he walks passed them, he may or may not cop a slight feel with you though. He doesn't mean it to be creepy or pervy, but he can't help but admire the curves you graced him with.

He's got his own cake as well, don't forget that, so the two of you walking side by side out in public earns a lot of stares for many reasons, but the fact that the two of you combined are an entire bakery might also have something to do with it.

Kozue:

Girl is flustered. Literally everyone around Baki that she ever met was cheeked up, and she knows how to appreciate a good behind, but she's a lot more shy about it than, say, Chiharu or Katsumi.

Worried about wardrobe malfunctions? Not while she's around, she is on it. Doing it to be considerate? Absolutely, of course. But was she also watching your ass before the wardrobe failure? Maybe. Perhaps. Perchance, even.

She's the kind of person to look through clothes online and show her friends when she finds things that she thinks would suit them or that they would like, so if you mention wanting something to accentuate your butt a bit, she'll pull out an entire folder.

Lord help her if she catches you in swimsuits, she won't know what to do with herself. Does she admire openly? Does she touch? Please help her lmao.

Hanayama:

Firm ass admirer, but in private. Only he is allowed to admire your ass, that's final. You don't get to stand while he's sitting down, he'll pull you straight into his lap and keep those big meaty hands on your waist, trapping you in place. You don't get up until he lets you.

He won't spank you, but he will give you light taps every once in a while. Just know: he absolutely wants to wind up and slap the soul out of you, but he won't because he doesn't want to hurt you.

You wanna wear clothes that accentuate your butt? It had better only be for his eyes, he's not going to tolerate other people looking at your buns, those are his to admire.

There will be times where he just lays down with you, acts super sweet and everything, and then just grabs your ass. For no reason. It's like watching a cat stare at something on the edge of a table before they knock it off.

Admires your ass while clothed, and while naked. You aren't safe from him, even if you're sitting down, because no matter how strong or heavy you might think you are, you are nothing compared to his strength.

Chiharu:

A menace. He will walk up to you and smack your ass so gotdamn hard that you just won't know what to do beyond pass away on the spot. He sees nothing wrong with it, and he will continue to do this. There's no rhyme or reason either.

Are you getting nasty with him? Don't let him near your ass, because he will bite you, it will hurt, and you can't even get mad at him because he does it out of sheer love.

Steal his pants. I'm serious, steal them. Just walk out with them on, he'll practically break his own neck doing a double-take. They look great on you, and they're incredibly comfortable. It's a win-win!

Feel free to torment him by returning the favour by the way, he knows he can be a bit much, but he can take what he dishes out and more.

Katsumi:

Problem child. He'll use any excuse he can to get at you in general, he's very touchy. That being said, we have seen how efficient this man is at slapping things. He slaps you once and it's over. He slaps your butt and you're going to need ice.

He's also the kinda guy to bite your butt, for no reason. Fresh out the shower? Chomp. Trying to relax in shorts? Chomp. He doesn't even try to explain or justify it, he just does it.

Much like Chiharu, you can return the favour. Unlike Chiharu, he's going to play up every little bit of his response. Did you slap him back? Oh he's going to moan and whine, and by the time you get him to shut up, you're both laughing so hard neither of you can breathe.

He will try and get you into a karate uniform from the Dojo. Is it for personal reasons? Mayhaps. He thinks that it'll look good on you either way, either way he'll get a nice look at his precious in a karate uniform.

Jack:

I don't want to say that he doesn't care, but he just doesn't make a big deal about it. He thinks you're stunning and perfect just the way you are. Does he appreciate a bit more to hold onto? Sure thing! Is he going to start grabbing at you randomly? Not really, no.

Does he occasionally admire? Oh absolutely, he managed to bag you, he's going to admire you every chance he gets. He's a bit dense, but he's not blind.

That being said, if you dress up all nice for him, all of what I've previously said goes straight out the window. He is LOOKING (respectfully) and he is going to be touching, mentally prepare for that fact, because once he starts he's not going to stop for a while.

Lord help anyone that dares to even think of copping a feel or admiring while he's around. He may be pretty, but this man is a solid 8ft tall and has a natural glare that could kill an army.

Kosho:

Also doesn't make a big deal out of it, but you know that he loves ass just by looking at him. He'll admire, he'll touch, and if you're laying on your stomach, he'll use the booty as a pillow in a rare moment of relaxation.

If you really want to drive him wild (re: insane) then wear some tights around the house. He's going to behave himself, he swears, but if you bend over one more time he cannot be held responsible for what he's about to do.

Which is to say that he'll slap the soul out of you and then drag you back to the bedroom. Will you emerge alive? Who knows! He doesn't, and you probably won't either.

Kureha:

He cares, but he's a bitch, so he'll make it seem like he doesn't. That being said, he's so incredibly obvious about his stares and his little hand twitches while he definitely doesn't fantasize about grabbing a hand full that it's almost comedic.

He lowkey (re: highkey) worries about your back, so sometimes he'll just walk up, grab your waist and start rubbing little circles into the base of your spine under the pretense of being bored and wanting to see what you're doing.

He will buy you clothes and expects you to wear them, because he likes they way they look on you. Even if you only wear them around the house for him, he'll be pleased.

Why yes, he is jealous, how did you know? If he catches anyone even so much as glancing at your butt, he's going to glare them into another dimension.

Retsu:

Virgin monk is a virgin, and he was raised not to stare because that's rude. That being said, he can't help it, he thinks your butt is beautiful and he'll outright tell you that whatever you're wearing looks flattering. Has he said this while you were naked? Yes. Yes he has.

Once he gets more comfortable, he's all about grabbing and squeezing at your hips, thighs and butt, though it's all in good fun, he means well by it, and he absolutely appreciates you letting him do this.

He has such comfy pants, much like Chiharu, so you should absolutely steal them from time to time. You know those things are flattering, you've seen them on him after all.

If you ever want someone to watch your form while you're doing squats or lunges, he's your guy, because unlike the others, who would absolutely take this seriously and not just use it as an excuse to stare at your butt the entire time.

[dreamermonica]

BLUE LOCK BOYS + ROMANCE TROPES

—includes isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (sorry if this asshole's part is freakishly longer than the other boys' parts. favoritism exists in this blog, unfortunately.)

—fem pronouns are used, swearing cause it's me, major crack, fluff, messy attempt at humor, teenage pining and such, god help me t.t

ISAGI YOICHI is definitely childhood friend material. sworn friends ever since diapers, promises of being together till the very end, marriage proposals at the tender age of 6—all that type of cheesy stuff that would get you squealing and have your little feet kicking in the air out of giddiness. but as time goes on with him being set on football and you doing your own thing, the promise gradually gets left behind in your heads, slowly getting buried underneath all the pressure of being an adolescent. the once childish promise only resurfaces during an unexpected reunion—with both of you having achieved your dream careers. will your puppy love rise once more from the depths of your memories and perhaps turn into something...more serious? hah. what are you talking about? this old friend of yours should take you out for a proper dinner first, atleast.

BACHIRA MEGURU with the ugly duckling trope. no friends, seen as an outcast, too eccentric for his other classmates to comprehend—and there's you—the popular and extroverted individual loved and befriended by many others. you as the campus crush, who found an interest in the lonely bowl cut boy. though your curiosity is piqued at first, you were quite reluctant in actually befriending him. with rumors of him being a weirdo—most people often shy'd away from the idea of letting him inside their radars. but you aren't going to let that stop you from—wait, he's actually super sweet? and kind too? surprisingly a huge sweetheart? what kind of plot twist is this?! though the monster he speaks of kind of scares you, you're still terribly attracted like a fly to a light by his strong will to become the best striker in the foreign dimension of soccer. in the end he's just doing what he loves, a good-hearted boy who simply got misunderstood for his obsession with football—oh? why is your heart suddenly picking up its pace?

ITOSHI RIN with...*drum rolls*...quiet kid at the back of your class. 😐 not that surprising is it. anyways, this emo kid is obsessed with soccer, yet still able to keep up with his studies just fine. though he's mostly neutral with everybody, you sometimes fear the he might be plotting all your deaths with that unconventional stare of his that looks like he's constantly displeased. but you eventually come to a conclusion that that isn't the case. you both take the same bus home everyday, and you can confidently confirm that he really just looks like that. the stare only softens when he brings out his phone and starts playing granny or something. not to be a creepy stalker or anything—your field of view just always inconveniently contains him and the contents on his phone! he appears to have a knack for the genre of horror. games, movies, even tutorials. (this lil' cheat—) but of course, for this headcannon to work my way imma have to embarrass you in front of him for chemistry and relationship development purposes :p. so once upon a time, where you're tired as hell after some shit going down in school, you fail to remember your usual spot and slump down onto an open seat beside itoshi rin—who was on his phone paying you zero mind whatsoever, playing a horror game that you recognized to be some popular roblox game. you don't know if it's the tiredness that took over you, or the sole fact that seeing rin play so goddamn horrible on the game got on your nerves up to the point you couldn't hold in your thoughts anymore and outright told him what you'd come to regret in just a few moments—“what the hell, dude. you're terrible. you're supposed to get the key and then—” about to reach for the phone out of sheer frustration, you suddenly pause, realizing what you've just done. oh no. your eyes flicker to his expression and holy crap. rin itoshi is giving you the biggest, bombastic, judgemental, dehumanizing side eye you've ever seen in your life. actually, scratch that—he's full on staring at you like you've just directed 57 slurs at him. you feel like you've shrunk into a mere insect with how intense his stare is, mentally slowly melting into a puddle of shame as you stand up and profusely bow while spewing out pitiful apologies. after a few moments, you hear him heave a deep sigh, you slowly crane your neck up to look at him expectantly—only to find him and his absurdly gorgeous face challengingly raising a brow at you, “then what do you suppose i should do, miss i'm-so-good-at-the-game? please continue.” rin roblox kid confirmed.

ITOSHI SAE as the regular who has caught your eye trope. i really wanted to use childhood friends on this guy with the amount of angst it'd produce but isagi already got the trope so...'eye candy regular at the local coffee shop you work part-time at' trope it is. a bit specific but yeah you get what i mean :). it's hard not to notice this man whenever he comes in with that unfortunately charming blank face of his—so charming that in fact some girls from other nearby schools actually gather to seat themselves and wait for his appearance, shoot their shot with the guy and get immediately shut down with just one cold sweep of his indifferent stare. being pretty sure does have its downsides. you can still feel the shivers from when he full-on glared at a girl who was getting a bit too persistent. you've never really interacted with him aside from taking his regular order, but there's still the underlying fear that he'd cuss you out and embarrass you in front of teenage girls should you get his order wrong so now you have a note plastered onto the wall that always has his regular order tip up to the notch—with a highlighted nickname, “duckbutt james” since you never caught his name. but oh fuck, he sees it one uneventful day and raises a brow at you, nonchalantly and coolly saying that his name is “itoshi sae”. god. is this the part where you roll over and die in shame? why did you even think it was a good idea to put the note in point-blank range?! it's the same as basically shoving it in his face! you think you might pass out—but then suddenly—he smiles. he smiles. what. but it immediately disappears as fast as it came so now you're questioning if you're hallucinating or not. he takes his usual order and heads out once more, but as your head clears itself from the multiple stages of grief you experienced in one singular moment—you think of his name in wonder, finding it terribly familiar. itoshi sae. itoshi sae. itoshi...SAE?! WAIT—

MICHAEL KAISER is definitely enemies to lovers material, change my mind. a football hotshot who has to begrudgingly graduate first before officially signing a contract with the famous german world-wide football team—bastard münchen. at this point in life, he's basically already successful, so he literally just ignores and passes up all opportunities to actually study anything that isn't related to football. he's not a troublemaker perse, but you're convinced the entire faculty staff hates him due to the amount of unnecessary work his laziness spews out, but they would still have to pass him regardless of his lax attitude towards his studies due to the sole fact that the entirety of germany has their eyes on this genius of a prodigy. it was relatively obvious that failing him and delaying his awaited pro-debut would do no good for the name of the school, so he's now spared from the chains of corrupted education. despite being in the same class as him, kaiser was someone you've barely talked to—you both only interacted a grand total of two times. one was regarding a class project, and the other was that time you walked in on him getting confessed to for the what, thousandth time? needless to say, you're both barely acquainted, so being friends was out of the question. besides, it's not like you want to befriend him anyway (y/n moment)—you were both complete opposites. you were a study freak, and he was an infamous prodigy who had a passion for kicking a ball—he's the emperor who lived in a completely different world from your mundane life as a mere commoner in his story.

*rubs hands together* now it's time to get even more delusional, folks. it's just supposed to be a normal day but oh nooo, you're now both forced to fully acknowledge each other's presence after a teacher falsely accuses both of you and sends you to detention—highly biased should you add. it's one of those low teachers that act passive aggressively with his early success. it's bound to get people jealous, but shouldn't you be proud as a teacher? whatever. all that you know is that you're now both stuck in detention and you're blaming him now. you know very well you're both completely innocent so for what exactly are you blaming him? absolutely nothing. you're just bored and michael kaiser was your only source of entertainment in this bland and empty classroom. jabs are thrown around from across the room as you are unable to initiate conversation without you throwing an insult everytime he attempts to flirt with you. you asked him to be quiet? babe, he's going to do the exact opposite. you asked him to shut the fuck up? he'll say the typical 'make me'. your sanity is all but squeezed out of your entire being by the time your detention is over, finally being dismissed for the day until he stops you from actually leaving the room by holding your shoulder in place and asks for your number with a playful wink. you want to slap him, maybe kick his shins, roundhouse him in the face and run away but with the knowledge that you'll both still be meeting in your class the next day is a bitter reminder that you should atleast try to remain civil with this young and growing superstar if you want to survive the school year. albeit begrudgingly—you punch down your numbers into his phone (you put a random number in at first but he quickly confirms it to be false when your phone doesn't receive the message he sent just in-case. tsk.) and immediately leave the premises after he cracks a joke about seeing him tomorrow night for dinner.

unbeknownst to you, he was the one who put the anonymous tip in the school's online forum that falsely landed both of you in detention—all just to get some alone time with you and grab your number without attracting too much unnecessary attention because oh my lord he's genuinely interested in someone who isn't a part of his football kingdom?? wowowowowow

sae reawakened my duckbutt (sasuke) phase ong (also reader doesn't know what the world-class midfielder sae looks like, only his name so that's why she was shocked)

[actualbird]

who in the nxx yells “THERE’S A BUG” and who removes the bug, and how?

HELP HAHAHAKHVFAHSF THIS IS A LOVELY PROMPT, THANK U FOR THIS!!!

those who yell "THERES A BUG": marius and mc

now im not saying both of them are particularly squeamish, no no, they can definitely keep it cool when the situation Calls For It. that being said, seeing a bug in the nxx meeting room on a slow day isnt exactly the most high stakes of situations, so the most High Stakes Element remains to be whatever bug they see

mc just doesnt like bugs, theyre creepy theyre crawly and she doesnt trust anything that can dart out of her line of vision in the blink of an eye

marius also doesnt like bugs and because of his upbringing, he did not get to see very many of them growing up. which means every time he Did see a Bug Intruder, it's like a Category 5 Drama Moment

the moment they see the bug, theyre announcing it LOUDLY to everybody else in the room while also getting up to stand on some chairs

those who dont yell "THERES A BUG" but does look at the bug and track its every movement while sitting still like a statue hoping the bug doesnt notice him, as if bugs operate on some kind of t-rex knowledge: artem

let's rewind a bit. before marius and mc saw the bug, artem saw it first. and he just

didnt say anything about it

artem.....Also Does Not Like Bugs. but he also also doesnt like being loud about things he doesnt like so he just Sits There, so still you'd think he fucking died, and he hopes the bug mistakes him for some kind of inanimate man-shaped furniture and avoids him due to sheer disinterest

it doesnt avoid him.

it probably crawls or flies very close to him a few times the only thing that stops him from screaming "THERES A BUG" is his self-control thats as hard as cast-iron skillet

it's fine though because marius and mc spot it and sound the alarm

(thank god)

those who remove the bug: luke and vyn

luke and vyn are the ones who will both 1) be completely unbothered by the bug and 2) have to bring it out

the reason for luke is obvious, he's had wilderness survival training and probably had to eat bugs like in an episode of Man VS Wild to survive on an uninhabited island, so hes REALLY past any squeamishness with bugs. in fact, if mc said the word, luke would grab the bug and crush it with his bare hands

and vyn is a gardener!!! bugs are APLENTY in the garden, so he sees them not as malevolent but as important creatures in a healthy ecosystem. the bug probably got in from vyn's garden, actually, since nxx hq is on his property

and thus

The Timeline Of Events When a Bug Appears In The NXX HQ Meeting Room

bug: //crawls in

artem: //sees it, soul leaves his body for a bit and he petrifies himself as a defense mechanism

mc: why did artem go so still

marius: i dont know, maybe hes rebooting?

mc: dont be mean!

marius: im not being mea---FUCK

mc: what?

marius: THERES A BUG

mc: theres a wha---THERES A BUG

marius and mc: //immediately moving to stand on the couch

artem: //still Not Moving, hoping that mc and marius' sudden movements attract it

bug: //flexes wings open and closed

mc: NNNNO NO NO NO

marius: STOP DOING THAT MOTHERFUCKER

mc: NONONNONONONNNONONNOONONOONOO

marius: AAAAAAAAAA

vyn and luke, coming back in from where they were in the file room: ???

mc: THERES A BUG THERES A BUG

luke: oh. do you want me to kill it?

mc: NO!!

marius: YES!!!!!!

artem: i havent moved in 20 minutes

mc: JUST BRING IT OUT

luke: dead or alive?

mc: ALIVE

marius: DEAD

vyn, while they were all conversing: //gently coaxes the bug onto his palm and lets it out through the window

vyn's rationale here was that luke was doing a great job at handling (i.e. distracting) the People, so he went ahead and took care of the Bug. the bug will not be returning to the nxx meeting room because it was quite cold with no soil and also VERY loud

[kittyandco-archive]

re: this post from @selfshipping-haven -- (didn't want to derail accidentally)

i don't want to start anything, i'm just sharing my thoughts. but truthfully: as someone who's been in the community since late 2018, it used to be a lot more of a community. people did interact with each other a lot more. we were happy to. i remember how it was. it was a lot smaller, too. so taking sheer numbers into account, it isn't even hard to find active self shippers to interact with. in fact, it is much easier.

i think a lot of the reason people don't interact is mostly vibes based ... i've seen a lot of people say it feels like walking on eggshells around here. i think that comes into account. but the only way to combat this is to simply, and i'm not kidding, give people more grace. just BE NICE. this goes for so many things. a lot of people, especially online, have become passively cruel, and have normalized this behavior. this kind of "get them before they get me" mentality is so prevalent now. people so protective of the self that you don't let anyone in, even to say "hello," whether from anger or fear. if you want community, you have to break out of that. i understand where a lot of you are coming from. but you'll find your people. be the change you want to see. seriously.

we should be on each other's side. think of all the places you can really go and talk about self shipping without being lambasted as "creepy" (which is such an overused term for NORMAL SOCIAL BEHAVIOR. which is also an issue in this i believe) or "mentally ill." think about it. hardly ANYWHERE. because people from ye olden days of self ship tumblr, like me and other bloggers, helped make this space welcoming. we also didn't wait for others to create what we wanted. we just went out and did it post-by-post. and i just don't see the same energy across the board anymore

we are pretty much the only ones who want to hear each other. so listen with an open heart

[splinkoplinko]

I'm gonna share some Guilty Gear LGBTQ+ "headcanons" that are most likely canon. Most of these go off of the idea that Elphelt's Magnum Wedding Instakill (MW) doesn't override sexuality.

Despite my claims of these being most likely canon, most things here are not directly confirmed by Daisuke Ishiwatari, ArcSystem Works, or any other individuals involved with the making of these characters or the Guilty Gear franchise and the following should still be taken as headcanon as these are my readings of certain things I've found in the games. You have been advised.

May - Bisexual, possibly confused lesbian - She does, in fact, fall in love with Elphelt here, but has a thing for Johnny, possibly. The thing with Johnny is that she might not actually have a crush on him. From my own experiences, it's possible that May could be overly obsessed with Johnny, and may be misunderstanding her obsession and hyper fixation on him as a romantic interest in him. This idea also makes the whole Johnny and May thing less creepy as Johnny is her dad, and, I believe is supported by one of MW lines being "C-Could this be romance?! Oh my gosh!" implying that how she feels for Elphelt during Magnum Wedding is different from how she feels for Johnny, possibly even completely redefining romance for her, which is pretty huge for someone who's been seemingly romantically attracted to someone for years.

Millia - Bisexual, possible preference for women - She 100% had romantic and sexual feelings for Zato, which he manipulated prior to his death. Because of the sexual manipulation from Zato, it seems that she is not keen on being involved with a man again in any way. However, in MW, she falls in love with Elphelt, even going as far as to say "Have I chosen the yuri route..?" This doesn't really explain the "preference to women" part of this idea, but another quote of Millia's is "This is a whole new world...!" which, at least to me, shows that she experiences romance with a woman in a much more positive way than with a man.

Elphelt - Pansexual - When MW is used against herself, Elphelt says "I-I'll just take anyone...?" So like, yeah. Also she fell in love with herself, that's pretty gay.

Baiken - Bisexual - I'm pretty sure that she and Anji are confirmed to be a thing? I could 100% be wrong on that. However, when Baiken gets hit with MW, she falls in love with Elphelt. Despite that, she seems very reluctant, which could be shown as rejection (which I'll get to because it DOES happen), but I interpret this instead as denial of her feelings. This is further emphasized by her character, being a cold, lone wolf type of person. This can be seen in her platonic relationships as well, in which, only really accepting the company of Anji (possibly not platonic) and Delilah with Delilah being her latest friendship. The idea of her being in denial is in the line, "Won't work. Try to fall for someone el...?!" which, in my interpretation, means that she doesn't believe she's good enough, but is cut off by the sheer amount of love she's feeling from MW.

Jam - Bisexual - She wants to hire "cute boys" (boys she's attracted to) like Ky Kiske to work at her diner. In both Jam's Story ending 1 and Bridget's story ending 1 of Accent Core Plus, Jam actually hires Bridget to work at the diner. While Bridget identified as male then, she now identifies as female, though, that might not mean much. What means much more is her MW line, "Cute girl maybe ok, too." which implies that "cute girls" (GIRLS she's attracted to) would be hired as well.

Jack-O' - Bisexual - Is Aria, wife of Sol Badguy. They're also together in the ending of Strive. Reason that she's bisexual is because she refers to her and Elphelt as a couple in her MW line "Birth of a new-age couple?!" so that's pretty cut and dry.

Kum - Lesbian - When hit with MW, she falls in love with Elphelt as shown by the line, "Romance filter severely damaged!" meaning that, well, romance. Duh. I say lesbian specifically because, to my knowledge, she doesn't show attraction to any men, really just Elphelt, if anything were to come out where she shows attraction to a man or if I missed something that does the same, then I'd say she's bisexual. But for now, she's lesbian.

Venom - Gay - Now for the part that proves that MW doesn't override sexuality and that all of the above characters are attracted to women. Venom is canonically gay, this isn't a headcanon, this is just outright confirmed. However, it's important to note that Venom resists the romantic nature of MW as shown by his lines, "My loyalty cannot be broken!" "You cannot tempt me!" and last, but not least, "Lord ZATOOOO!" The fact that Venom, who in canon is exclusively attracted to men, does not fall in love with Elphelt in MW, means that the above characters DO fall in love with Elphelt and ARE attracted to women.

Bedman - Aroace - Completely rejects the concept of being in love ("Damn witch! You cannot take my heart from me!" "Are you trying to corrupt me?) when hit with MW, and, in one line, exclaims, "You cannot replace Delilah!" which is just comparing the effects of MW to his only other relationship, which is platonic, which is with his sister, which makes me feel like it's not at all romantic or sexual to him in any way.

Ramlethal - Aroace - At first, I thought she could be lesbian, but one of my friends who knows a lot more about GG lore and Ramlethal in specific than me argued that she's Aroace, citing one of her taunts in Strive that implies she has no concept of romance and that it's kinda gross to her. He also said that her saying "Is this my true self?" is about her experiencing human emotions, which she doesn't believe she can do (at least during Xrd's story mode). He, however, did say that as her concept and expression of human emotions develops, things could change, and she may end up developing romantic feelings, but that is not definite. As of right now, Ramlethal is aroace, at least in my books.

Testament - Nonbinary with attraction to men - I don't know if Testament has any attraction to women, but I read their intro lines in Strive with Johnny as them being a thing, as Johnny offers to go out to eat after their fight in one line. Testament is confirmed to be nonbinary though.

Johnny - Bi or Pansexual, though could still be straight? - This one veers much more into headcanon territory, but it's possible that Johnny could be bisexual or pansexual as he may in a situationship with Testament, as I mentioned just above. Testament does, however, present more femme than masc, and does use feminine pronouns alongside gender neutral and masculine pronouns, so it's possible that Johnny simply counts Testament as a woman and is still straight.

Bridget - Sapphic transgender woman - Bridget is a trans woman in canon, however, it's not confirmed if she is attracted to men, women, neither, or both. However, Daisuke once made some very interesting art where May is gripping Bridget's butt pretty strong (which is really just more evidence for May being sapphic), but Bridget doesn't seem troubled by it or anything soooo. Also, of the 2 characters that have special lines when defeated by Bridget in Strive, May gets 2 lines while Bridget herself only gets 1, no one else has a special line at this time.

I-no - Pansexual - Pretty sure she'll top anyone, even people who claim to be tops. This is basically just a headcanon, but apparently she teases both men and women when defeating them, soooo.

BONUS!!

These characters are, in my opinion, heterosexual despite this being contested in some smaller aspects of the community.

Sin - When hit with MW, one of Sin's lines is, "Farewell... virginity..." so yeah, he's straight. Idk, could be bi, but I see no evidence for that. Most people say he's aroace because he's so young, childish, and dumb, but Dizzy fell for Ky around the same age soooo...

Dizzy - When hit with MW, it feels like she's rejecting Elphelt, much like Venom and Bedman, saying "I'm married!" "I'm sorry, I can't!" "I-I have a son..." much less like a denial of feelings similar to that of Baiken. I don't think her sexuality is contested as much as Sin's is, but I still feel like this is worth mentioning.

yeah i think that's it really

END

If you have any other pieces of evidence for OR AGAINST my ideas and evidence, then please share!!! I am open to CONSTRUCTIVE criticism :3!!!

Reminder that MOST of these aren't technically confirmed to be canon, so take these as head canons if anything, not cold, hard facts!! And please, do not be rude about these either.

Also, do not deny ACTUAL canon (Venom being gay, Bridget being a transwoman, and Testament being nonbinary) as that is not cool and disrespectful to the ideas of Daisuke himself!!!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you all have a great day ^^!!!!!

[irisintheafterglow]

uhh uhh uhh uhh meeting enemy frat!suguru at a greek life halloween party

cw: swearing, drinking and alcohol, creepy dude at beginning

"look, i'm not interested in whatever weird shit you concocted. so, get lost," you spit at the ugly, intoxicated, ogre-looking airhead trying to give you a shot of heavens know what. he'd been trying to get into your pants since you crossed the threshold and you were having none of it. your sorority sisters, unfortunately, were nowhere to be found and you were left to glare at the stumbling goliath slowly backing you into a musty corner. "i don't want you, asshole, so stop trying to get with me."

"c'mon, lighten up a little. it's a fuckin' halloween party; why are you here if you're not getting shitfaced?" your nose wrinkles at his sheer audacity. you attempt to make a break for the door when his overworked biceps suddenly block your eyeline, trapping you against the wall. body odor and whiskey leak into your nostrils and you swallow down the bile that rises in your throat. "where the hell are you going? do you even know who i am?"

"you're gonna be six feet under if you don't leave them the fuck alone," comes a dangerously low voice somewhere behind your harasser. "get back to whatever shithole you crawled out of."

"don't be such a downer, geto," the guy drawls over his shoulder and his casual nature makes you physically recoil. "i'm just tryna get them to take a shot or two with me, that's all." before you can process it, the shot glass is snatched from the asshole's hand and downed in a blink. the man, who you assume is geto, glares even sharper daggers than you, and your heart does an unwanted little flutter. the gesture seemingly didn't get through the other bro's thick skull as he whirls around, offended. "hey, what the fuck was that?"

"lay off of 'em. don't be more trouble than you're worth." the guy hesitates for the briefest second and is just as quickly shoved to the side, landing on the floor with a satisfying thud. he groans and you inhale a deep breath of stale party atmosphere, pushing off the wall and beelining to the nearest source of fresh air. you vaguely sense someone following behind you and don't bother looking until you're shivering against the chilly october air. "you alright?"

"sure," you deadpan, "if i ignore the fact that i almost got roofied a minute ago." you cross your arms and plop into the nearest deck chair, uncomfortably eyeing a nearby couple getting a little too intimate for being in public. the guy who helped you stands next to you at a respectful distance, following your gaze to the people practically eating each other's faces.

"oi, get a fucking room," he barks and they flinch, scurrying into the house to find some empty room to bang in. "better?"

"yeah," you mutter, still uneasy about why he followed you out in the first place. "thanks for helping me, in there."

"don't mention it. it's a wonder how many frats still let him come to parties considering how easily he scares sorority girls away," he says blankly and you take a second to shamelessly analyze his appearance. long, dark hair was tied back into a loose bun and stray strands framed a mesmerizingly sharp jawline. unlike most of the guys inside, he actually was wearing a shirt, a simple sweatshirt with his frat's letters embroidered across the front. you couldn't see what the letters were, but you guessed he was probably part of a related frat by how willingly he stepped in to help you. to combat the autumn air, you figured, he also wore a flannel that had a dragon printed on the back panel. "you sure you're okay?"

"yeah, i'm good. a little cold, is all," you admit, grimacing at the goosebumps running over your arms. without another word leaving your mouth, he shrugs off the flannel and tosses it into your lap. you wrap it around your shoulders and catch him watching you, the tiniest smirk painting his pretty mouth when you pull it tighter against you. it's warm and smells like expensive cologne. "you're a real gentleman, you know that?"

"so i've been told," he replies and you huff an exasperated breath. "i swiped this for you on my way out, too. it's sealed, but i can grab you another one if you're still skeptical." he hands you a lukewarm bottle of water and, true to his word, requires a little bit of effort to break the seal around the cap. you take a few sips and your mind finally starts to process what happened. "feel a little better?"

"definitely. thank you, is it geto?"

"call me suguru." fuck, that's hot. he's hot.

"thank you, then, suguru. can i ask why you're being so nice when you don't even know me?"

"just making sure everyone's having fun and being safe so no one calls the cops." your response falls from your lips faster than you can stop it.

"nothing else?" his attention flicks to you and he chuckles in amusement at your boldness.

"and, i think you look nice in your costume," he murmurs and you'd be lying if you said it didn't make your heartrate increase. "that what you wanted to hear?"

"mhmm, thank you." the giddy excitement wears off and you check the time on your phone. "i should probably be getting back home."

"you got a ride?"

"i'll go find one of my pledge sisters that are also partied out," you shrug, praying that someone was sober enough to get you back safely.

"you mind if i call you a cab? i don't feel comfortable sending you off in some rando's car."

"technically, you're a rando," you point out, and he raises his hands in surrender. "but, sure, as long as you walk me out."

"i was already planning on it," he affirms and extends a hand, helping you out of the cold metal chair. his palm is warm, safe, and strong, nothing like the grabby ones that were begging for your body all night. suguru waits with you on the lawn until the cab arrives and opens the door for you as you slip into the second row. before you can close the door, he reaches over you and hands the driver a stack of bills that has the old man's eyes widening to the size of tennis balls. "get them home safely, please."

"what are you doing?"

"doing the next best thing besides driving you home myself. i didn't think you'd be comfortable doing that, given the progression of the evening." you're stunned into silence by his genuine chivalry and nearly forget to give him his flannel back. when you go to pull it off, however, he stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. "keep it, for now. i'll get it back at some point."

"alright," you concede, wrapping it around you like a safety blanket. "thank you for everything."

"of course. get home safe, yeah?"

"i will. thank you, suguru."

you wake up in the morning on the couch in the sorority house's living room, still in the same clothes from the night prior. your head pounded like it was getting repeatedly slammed with a mallet, but you were barely able to remember the events leading up to crashing at home. you look down and the flannel around your body reaffirms that suguru was, in fact, real and not just a drunk hallucination. you're in the middle of smiling giddily to yourself when one of your sisters screeches to a halt in the hallway behind you.

"good morni-"

"what the fuck are you wearing?" she asks with all the seriousness as if someone had died.

"yeah, i know i look like shit. is anyone in the shower-"

"no, stupid. that flannel, where did you get it?"

"some guy helped me get home last night and he let me borrow it; why are you being so weird?" you stumble to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. your sister watches you from over the counter like you'd grown four heads. "hello? why are you looking at me like that?"

"you do realize where that flannel is from, right?"

"no...?"

"your little buddy from last night is from those assholes at theta phi fuckhead, babe." you nearly drop your glass in shock. there's no way. he couldn't have been from those dipshits, could he? "there's a reason we're not supposed to talk with them, 'cause they're dangerous and unruly."

"but this one, he-"

"doesn't matter. don't let anyone else see you with that on, or they'll have a fit." she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "shower is free, so go get dressed and change your clothes."

as you strip off the flannel, a small piece of paper drops from one of the pockets. the message written on it has you gripping the edge of the counter for support.

you look cute in my clothes. (XXX) XXX-XXX if you wanna wear 'em more often

-s. geto

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[nerd-space]

Professor x college student with Johnny Cage and a dash of CNC?

MROW YES I LOVE THIS TROPE!!

TW// CNC, choking, slight degradation, mean!johnny- you don't need to squint. inappropriate relationship, creepy.. behavior? i wouldn't consider it yandere but its damn close lol

- You've only been going to Johnny's course for.. 3 maybe 4 weeks.. you can't shake this feeling that he's always watching you in class but can you complain? He's the hottest professor on campus. Johnny holds you back in class one day to "talk about your last grade" you worry you did something wrong and need tutoring but when Johnny gets uncomfortably close and says just how good you did you get flustered at his tone and closeness- feeling wrong for being so fucking horny for him

- he gets closer and you realize you're suddenly pushed up against his desk as you look at him with wide eyes.. playing into the innocent act as if you have no clue what's about to happen.. this only happens in fanfics... right? his large arms trap you on either side of his desk as he leans down, his sharp jaw ticking at your fake act and thin metal glasses sliding down his nose bridge as they fog up at the close contact of your faces.

- he furrows his brows with faux sympathy and pitty for you. "Aww.. Poor girl.. you seem so nervous around me.. why is that hm?" he questions you with a smug, evil, knowing grin as you grow flustered more and more- your body heating as you squirm under his gaze, making up some half-assed excuse "..just.. a new class.. nervous about doing.. well.." his hand quickly cups under your short skirt you had work to grab his attention in the first place- noticing you only had cheap easy lace underwear on as if you anticipated this to happen, which flips a violent switch in Johnny's brain.

- he quickly flips you onto your stomach so your pressed uncomfortably against his cold desk, flipping your skirt up and giving you little to no room to really retaliate. despite your weak pleas of "n-no! wait! the door isnt locked!" he keeps his movements going as he tears the underwear in half and yanks them off, quickly stopping to breathe in your ear "If you really wanted me to stop why'd you wear these to class huh?" he growls into your skin as you moan and laugh a little- realizing he caught your little act.

-He forcefully shoves two fingers into your mouth to wet them, making you gag as he pulls them back to coat his own cock with your spit, only to realize you're already soaked from him manhandling you, he grins darkly at the fact and teasingly slides his tip through your wetness just to get you riled up for "being such a fucking slut" in his classroom. he pushes in and rubs your back to ease himself in, your slightly pained gasps simply making him throb.

- he's slow, painfully slow. and deep. he wants you to feel everything he gives you, he grips your hips and ass so hard it'll hurt to sit down later. he grumbles in your ear about how easily you two could be caught.. despite knowing he locked the door before hand.. he liked scaring you. you're shaking against his table, your legs so close to giving out as you plea for him to go quicker and that your worried about if people hear you two he covers your mouth with a large palm and thrusts hard and rough but still slow, emphasizing his next statement with harsh snaps of his hips againsg your ass. "I.don't. fucking. care. you're gonna be good for me.. and take what i'm giving you"

- your moans and cries are muffled by his thick palm as he fucks you into sheer stupidity as he blabs out of pleasure into your skin and ear "Fuck!- oh fuck yeah.. mhmmm.. such a dirty whore.. giving it up so easily to your fucking professor? ohoh i should give you a failing grade for that.." you cry and whimper into his hand, muffled "no! please! im sorry!" he laughs and moans roughly as he gets unbelievably close from your silly cries, be reassures you he won't just to make you feel better "It's okay, pretty girl.. i'm just being mean.. you'll get an A for this.. don't you worry"

- He's fucking you so quick and rough you think you might pass out- the pressure of your stomach pressing into the table making you almost cum from his cock pistoning into your sweet spot. you're both shaking and his moans are now whimpers along with your own. He reaches to fiddle with your clit, causing your legs to give out as he holds you up barely as he cums with you, you both now lay in a heap over his desk- breathing heavily as his cum drips down your thigh

i enjoyed this too much thank you for sending that! lol