#so hes dragging them everywhere and dressing them up and shit

[gifti3]

Mean girl trio with asmo satan and beel

Should they be like mean mean

Or "nice mean"??? I think the 2nd one works the best especially since beel is involved cause hes not dumb enough to not be bothered by asmo being mean to mc

[makedamnsvre]

recently ive been getting really sick of my neighbors i wish that i had a bunch of money so that i could buy up their houses and only let people i live live near me

[seonghwaddict]

ateez and their top 3 kinks — masterlist

genre. hc, smut...? rating. mature. warnings. sexual content mdni, yn wears a dress in one part, kinks and stuff, marking, rough-ish, mentions of toys, somnophilia, size kinks, praise, degradation, bdsm themes, public/semi-public sex, breath play, it’s like a lot of kinks. wc. 1.1k.

[ lilo’s notes . . . ] uh yeah i wrote this at 2 in the morning i have no fucking idea why i decided to do this but anyways- enjoy :3

hongjoong

marking. he’d mark you and fucking love to have you mark him… he’s literally so possessive and would never pass the opportunity to physically show people you’re his and he’s yours. hickeys literally everywhere and so many of them you’ll have a hard time covering them up—neck, chest, thighs, back, anywhere.

orgasm control. he’s a natural leader, what he says goes. so, of course, he’d want to be the one to control when you finish. which leads me to my next point.

overstimulation. he personally doesn’t like to be overstimulated but god does he love doing it to you. he loves the whines and twitches as he continue pressing a vibrator against your clit because, let’s be fr, he’d definitely be using plenty of toys (as well as himself).

seonghwa

shibari. i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again and again and again. this man loves nothing more than to tie you up in the most intricate and borderline artistic ways for his own (and your) pleasure.

sensory deprivation. he absolutely loves the trust and vulnerability that comes with this. specifically, he likes to blindfold you and run his hands all over you as lightly as he can, barely brushing over all the spots he knows make you feel good, soft plushy lips ghosting over your skin. and no matter how light it is, you’ll always feel everything ten times more intensely, having nothing else to focus on but his voice and his touch. also, ice cubes.

praise. this is something he’ll incorporate into your everyday lives outside of bedroom a activities. he’ll make sure to tell you you’re doing well while your working on something. gentle head pats and approving nods.

yunho

size kink. this is so obvious but like literally look at him, he makes everyone seem so tiny compared to him. he likes to stare as he pushes his huge dick into you, jaw practically dropping as his huge hands pin your hips to the mattress. speaking of hands…

fingers in mouth…(?) i have no idea if this is an actual kink, but i just know this is so yunho. he’s the type of guy to have you suck your own release off him after he fingers you, getting off on the way your lips wrap around his digits. he would definitely have two fingers or his thumb stuffed in your mouth as he fucks you.

breath play. is it obvious i really like his hands? anyways, i will not be elaborating on this for the sake of my sanity.

yeosang

body worship. is this a seonghwaddict post without body worship being involved in some way? that’s right, no. he’s more into giving the body worship, but when he’s receiving it he becomes the ultimate softie (in my head, he’d be leaning towards being a hard dom tho)

edging. oh he would absolutely love your subtle frustrated huffs every time he stops whatever he’s doing, thinking you look so so cute when you’re desperate and practically begging. and then he’d finally let you finish, giving you the best orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

wax play. usually yeosang is a pretty calm guy outside of the bedroom and he likes to maintain that when it comes to foreplay, building up the anticipation. he specifically likes those candles that melt the wax into massage oil.

san

bondage. i think shibari would also be suitable for san, but he would do it with the usual ropes unlikes seonghwa. additionally, san is totally into marking. bondage/shibari would include exactly that—bruises and rope burns.

locations. ok so i didn’t exactly know what to call this, but he would not give a single shit about where and when he fucks you. backstage during an intermission? you’ll be dragged into a dressing room so he can give you some quick head before going back on stage, someone pounding on the door but he ignores them. at a dinner with some friends, you looking as ravishing as ever? he’ll either discreetly slip his hands up the skirt of your dress to finger you, drag you to a bathroom when no one’s looking, or drag you into the backseat of his car and rip that dress of you. this man has no patience and would rather not wait until you’re in the private confines of your home.

manhandling. he has all those muscles for a reason.

mingi

size kink. the twin towers have very obvious size kinks. like, how could they not? they’re fucking huge.

praise. giving and receiving. mingi likes being told how well he’s doing as much as he likes to be the one telling his partner. he needs the reassurance to make sure what he’s doing feels good for you, he’d hate to hurt you.

somnophilia. ok idk if this counts as it, but he thinks it’s so cute when he fucks you to sleep. his touches and his words and the way he fills you up so gentle soothing it’s like you’re being lulled to sleep. like he’s literally such a softie, okay? he knows his dick game’s good.

wooyoung

humiliation/degradation. giving and receiving. come on guys he basically admitted this already. he would be such a menace in bed, he would coo at you and mock you as he fucks you stupid.

biting. is this even a surprise? he loves to sink his teeth into you as a form of affection, listening to your whimpers and feeling you writhe beneath him as he… multitasks.

dry humping. he doesn’t care that it makes him seem like an inexperienced high schooler making out with his partner. he loves the friction he gets when he slowly grinds against you through your layers of clothing (and he knows you love it too). idk and like he would get desperate at some point, almost there but not quite there yet because it’s not quite enough, and yeah i just like the idea of that.

jongho

sir. he would love to be called sir. or daddy, but i think sir is just so jdjsjhcjsnc like i’m literally pacing in my room as i write this. JUST IMAGINE IT FOR A SECOND PLEASEEE- “please” “please what” “please, sir” “good. very good, darling” AHHHHHHHH

location. couldn’t care less about where he fucks you pt 2. kitchen counter, living room couch, dressing room in a clothing store, in the shower, bathroom stall, up against a wall, the list could literally go on forever.

eye contact. whether it’s forced or not, he thinks eye contact is one of the hottest things. he likes missionary for that exact reason—so he can look you in the eyes, look at you in your fucked out state, as he makes you feel things you know no one else can make you feel.

ot8 (aka things i wanted to give to all of them, with no explanation)

thigh riding.

i want them so bad.

　　[ networks ... ] @cromernet @blankjournal

　　[ perm taglist — open ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb

[steddie-as-they-come]

ok listen so i saw this tiktok where this girl was at a concert and the singer gave her his ring to hold for a song and then didn’t take it back and i knew i had to steddie-fy it. enjoy!

Steve didn’t know what he was doing there.

Robin had dragged him along to this bar to chaperone for her date with some metalhead girl, but sometime during the night she had disappeared into the bathroom to go make out with said girl, and Steve had been left alone at the front of the crowd.

Look, he never said he was a good chaperone, alright?

And now the next band was coming out.

Corroded Coffin stepped onto the stage, and Steve felt his mouth go dry.

The guy in front, the lead singer, was the hottest fucking guy he had ever seen.

He had dark, curly hair, was dressed in skinny-as-hell jeans, and his shirt had the sleeves cut off, as well as most of the seams on the side. When he raised his arms, Steve caught a glimpse of ink under the shirt.

The guy wrapped a ringed hand around the neck of his guitar, smiling devilishly at the crowd. “Ready for the most metal concert ever?”

The crowd screamed their approval, and Steve screamed along with them, not knowing what the fuck he was doing. He knew he looked so out of place among them, his soft yellow sweater a spotlight against the sea of black clothing and silver chains.

The singer strummed an experimental note, then frowned down at his hands. “Dammit, wore the wrong ring today.” He slid a ring off his right knuckle, then peered at the crowd. “Here.”

He pointed at Steve, whose heart froze. He tilted his head. “Me?”

“Yeah.” He lobbed the ring at Steve underhanded, who caught it gently. “Hold that for the rest of the show, alright, pretty boy?”

The guy backed up and started the count for his band, but Steve didn’t even hear when they started to play. He was too busy staring at the ring, turning it over and over again in his hand. It was a cool silver, with an amber stone inlaid in it.

He slid the ring onto his pinkie.

“Holy shit, Steve!” came a familiar voice in his ear. It was Robin, hair messed up and makeup smeared. “These guys are good!”

He laughed. “I see you had fun.”

“Steve. Steeeve. She is so fucking hot, dude.” Robin said, splaying over his shoulder. “She went to- where’d you get that?”

She was looking at the ring.

“Uh,” Steve said dumbly. “He gave it to me.” He pointed up at the lead singer, whose hair was flying everywhere as he belted into the mic. His voice was amazing, like a wrecking ball crashing through Steve’s heart.

“No fucking way.” came a voice from Steve’s other side. Robin’s date, Emily or Amelie or something like that, he couldn’t quite remember, said. “Eddie Munson gave you a ring?”

“Yeah?” Steve said. He plucked the cup out of her hands and passed it to Robin, who drained it. “Why?”

“Because he never takes them off. There’s band interviews of them where his band mates are complaining because Eddie won’t share. And he just gave you one?”

A particularly loud stomp broke them out of their trances and made Robin fall off Steve’s shoulder. Eddie must have seen they weren’t paying attention, and decided to make them pay attention, by jumping and landing right by Steve’s head.

Steve jolted back up, staring directly into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie winked.

Steve felt his face grow hot, and even though he tried to tell himself it was only the stage lights reflecting onto his face, he knew that wasn’t it.

Corroded Coffin may not have been Steve’s taste in music, but he couldn’t deny they were good. Eddie, of course, stole the show, his undeniable stage presence drawing everyone in.

Including Steve, of course.

By the time the set was over, Corroded Coffin packed up their shit and left the stage. Steve was preoccupied with getting home.

As the two of them exited the bar in a stream of other patrons, he looked down at his hand.

The ring Eddie had given him was sitting innocently on his pinkie, twinkling up at him.

“Shit.” he whispered.

“What?” Robin asked. “Steve, what is it?”

“His ring. I think I was supposed to give it back at the end of the show.”

“Aw, really?” Robin said. “And here I was thinking he proposed.”

Steve shoved her, then dragged her out of the way of the doors. “Shut up, I gotta return this before he reports it as stolen.”

“I think the only thing that’s stolen is my heart.” someone said from behind him.

Steve whipped around.

Eddie.

“That was…really, really corny.” Steve said, trying to regain his footing. His entire brain was screaming “HOT BOY” at him, so it wasn’t really working. He thought he made a valiant effort, though. Robin had slunk off to hide somewhere and watch from afar, the traitor.

Eddie shrugged. “Eh, opportunity came up, had to take it.” He held out his hand to shake. “Eddie Munson.”

Steve took it. “Steve Harrington.”

He slid the ring off his finger and made to drop it into Eddie’s hand, but Eddie held up a hand. “Listen, I’ve decided you can keep it, but only if I get your number in return.”

“Really?” Steve crossed his arms, balling the ring into his fist. The cold metal pressed against his palm. “I’ve heard from one of your fans that you don’t even share your rings with your band mates. Why do I get one?”

“Let’s just say I’m curious about why a guy dressed like he just got out of a PTA conference is in my metal audience.” Eddie said.

Steve looked down at his sweater. “Okay, listen, it wasn’t a PTA meeting.” he said. “It was a bake sale.”

Eddie laughed. “Even better, Jesus. You’ve got to tell me more.”

“I’m free for lunch around one?” Steve offered.

“Perfect.” Eddie tapped his phone and offered it to Steve to put in his contact. “Text you soon, pretty boy.”

Steve was so preoccupied with watching him walk away, he didn’t realize he still had the ring.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 30

part 1 | part 29 | ao3

cw: Steve Harrington committing unforgivable thought crimes (besmirching LotR)

"Uh," Steve stammers as Eddie tugs him off the couch, because he just propositioned the guy while covered in snot and tears and wearing a blanket as a cape, and now that guy is holding his hand.

Eddie doesn't let go after he gets him to his feet. Their fingers lace together, and his palm is soft and warm, his fingers slightly callused. Steve can feel his own pulse pounding in his wrist.

"Simmer down," Eddie teases, "I'm not having sex with you. Yet," he adds with a lewd waggle of his brows when Steve puppy-dog pouts at him. "This is better than sex, anyway."

"If you're having shit sex, maybe.” Steve rolls his eyes and lets himself be dragged past a messy counter, where Eddie stops to grab a black lunch box and a cassette tape, a tissue for Steve’s face, then down the hall to Eddie's bedroom.

"My kingdom," he grins as he shoves the door open and waves Steve through with a bow.

His room is amazing. Awesome and terrible all at once: awesome, because it looks like someone put Eddie’s essence in a blender and ran the blades without a lid, and terrible, because the place is a fucking pigsty. There’s a bag of bread on the floor.

Eddie tells him to make himself at home, so Steve plops down on the edge of his bed, takes in the explosion of artwork tacked to the walls while Eddie buzzes around the room — swoops and swoons like a drunken bee, kicking shit into messy piles, sticking a cig in his mouth and forgetting to find the lighter, turning on the stereo. He pops in the cassette, and Steve lets out a surprised laugh when he hears the upbeat strumming.

"Rumours? Really? That's your 'better than sex' cure?"

Eddie cranks the volume. "It's workin’, ain't it?" he mumbles around the unlit cig.

Steve tries to frown and fails. "…Shut up."

Eddie snickers at him; gives him the cutest smile he's ever seen, nose scrunched up, eyes crinkled at the corners, then he tucks the cigarette behind his ear and shakes his hair out with a grimace. “Christ, it’s hot in here." His hands move to the hem of his shirt. "Look away or don’t, baby, I’m changin’!”

Steve smiles and averts his gaze, falling back on Eddie’s bed and looking at the ceiling with his legs dangled over the edge. In his periphery he can see Eddie hopping gracelessly around the dresser, trying to tug his foot out of the end of his skinny jeans, cursing under his breath; dropping all the ‘g’s off the ends of his words.

"I like your Southern accent."

"Do ya now?" Eddie throws it on thick, really hamming it up, "Well then, I reckon it's plum near the most attractive dad-gum thing y’ever did hear 'round these here pawrts."

Steve honks a mortifyingly stupid laugh, which makes Eddie laugh like a chime in a windstorm, which just makes Steve laugh even more, and maybe Eddie was right.

Maybe this is better than sex.

He wipes at his eyes, misty for a good reason for the first time all night, and when he looks up again Eddie’s dressed in his pajamas. Dark gray gym shorts, a black cut-off tank, the arm holes deep and loose to expose his armpit hair, his ribs.

Steve’s mouth goes dry.

Eddie’s wiry and pale, firm muscle wrapped around his string-bean frame, and he's covered in tattoos — black line art and gray shading, fantastical beasts and staffs and swords, a crazily-detailed set of serpent scales snaking up his side. But it's his legs that catch Steve's eye.

His legs are covered in words. Words and doodles everywhere, from his calves to his thighs, the lines wobbly and thick like Eddie put them there himself. There are quotes in sloppy cursive, longer ones in blocky print; a few stylized to look like comic book dialog, the words POW! and DANGER outlined in spiky bubbles above his knee. Steve wants to trace the lines; rehearse him like a poem, learn each ink stroke with his fingers until he can recite them all by heart.

Eddie catches him staring and gives a small, pleased grin. “Like what you see?”

Steve’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. “Yeah. I really do.”

The smile widens. Eddie clambers onto the bed, stepping over Steve’s head and plopping down beside him with his back against the wall, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out long and loose.

Steve shifts to lay the same direction, and his shoulder brushes Eddie’s leg, his wrist ghosting against his ankle bone. He doesn’t pull away; likes the look of their skin tones side by side — the smooth desert landscape of his inner arm, accented only by a few veins and moles; the riot of ink and art all along Eddie’s shin. Eddie’s feet are bare, and they’re wide, a little hairy (reminds Steve of Dustin’s nerdy ring book, and he almost says as much, but he knows Eddie’s even more obsessed with that shit than the kids are. He really doesn’t want the dude to pop a brain boner and spend the next four hours lecturing Steve about jewelry lore.)

“What are you giggling at down there?” Eddie nudges at his elbow.

“Nothing,” Steve says, and Eddie responds “All right then, keep your secrets” in a silly character voice. He stretches to the side and grabs a joint off the bedside table.

“Now,” he says, voice slipping into that deep, slow sing-song thing he does — his sales pitch tone, Steve realizes. “This part is, of course, completely optional, but. In my humble, expert opinion—”

“So humble,” Steve teases under his breath.

“—It really enhances the whole experience.”

“The Stevie Nicks Therapeu- thera-” Oh, screw it. “Un-saddening Experience?”

“That is correct.” He holds it out over Steve’s face, wiggling it in offering, and Steve thinks about his conversation with Robin over brunch:

"I can't believe you did coke.” "I can't believe you smoked weed." "I know." "Was it okay?" He hasn't tried weed since... "Yeah," she answers seriously. "Yeah, it was okay. It was nice, actually."

“Okay,” he decides. I trust you. “Let’s do it.”

Eddie puts the joint between his lips and lights it up.

—

part 31

listen i know it’s a quote from a movie that will not exist for another 16 years just let me have this. tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[theemporium]

Steve wasn’t exactly sure how he ended up here, but he wasn’t mad about it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t get along with his colleagues, it was just the simple fact that most of them were his father’s age or older, and there was only so much they had in common before the conversation hit a wall. But the job at the firm was flashy and prestigious and exactly the thing Mr Harrington expected of his son, and it was where Steve found himself straight after college. 

The days blurred into one as time passed. He would wake up, get dressed in the three piece suit that was laid out for him, grab his briefcase, drive to work, spend the day staring at documents until his eyes were dry, and then he would come home for dinner. It was like he was stuck on a loop, living the same day, one after the other until Steve could have sworn he was running on muscle memory alone.

He knew what the other men at the firm thought of him. A young, hot-shot who was just there on daddy’s merit and nothing else. Maybe that’s why Steve never really expected to have a relationship with any of his colleagues. Maybe that’s why he was surprised that after a year of working with them, they were inviting him on one of their fancy work nights out. 

It was everything he expected. From the three hundred dollar steaks to the whiskey from a date long before he was born, from the talks of business deals to details about their personal lives he very much wished he didn’t know. 

But what Steve wasn’t expecting was for the night to end at a fucking strip club. 

“Enjoy it, kid,” one of the older men in the group said as he clapped him on the back, jostling him from his spot by the entrance. “Nobody is gonna say shit in here. We tip well.” 

Steve could only nod in response. 

He was tense and awkward but it was hard not to be. The men at the firm were pigs, cheering and hollering as they threw one dollar bills at the dancers like they were objects for their entertainment. 

Steve guessed in an odd way they were. 

But they were also people.

He had planted himself firmly by the bar, sipping on the same drink he had bought when they first entered the club over an hour ago. He tried to keep his eyes everywhere but the dancers on the stage, or even the workers in little-to-no clothing walking around the establishment. 

He tried to remain respectful. 

Then, you walked out onto the stage. 

Steve didn’t even realise he was staring until your eyes caught his in the crowd. He had been enraptured by you, by the way you moved and the way you held yourself on stage. There were at least forty odd men loitered around the establishment, and yet, you were the one in control. 

Your lips twitched when you noticed him staring. It wasn’t like the other patrons. He wasn’t ogling or leering at you like you were a piece of meat. He was looking at you like you were art. 

His eyes stayed on you for your whole set. You watched some of your colleagues approach him as they weaved their way through the crowd for extra tips, but his eyes stayed firmly on you. You tried not to think about the way your stomach dipped in response. 

Steve almost felt gutted when you walked off the stage. He felt a pang in his chest, his eyes eagerly trying to find where you went but you were gone. His eyes fell back to his half-drunken whiskey, thinking if he should just throw in the towel and call it a night, and head back home before the firm dragged him to another club. 

Until the hair of the back of his neck rose when he felt a warm hand on his arm, his head turning to find you saddled up beside him. 

Smiling at him. 

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, but all he could think was that you were there and you were even prettier up close, and fuck, you smelt so good. 

“Hey, hi,” Steve cleared his throat, his cheeks tinted pink. 

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, watching the way Steve’s eyes fixated on the movement. He was sweet and he wasn’t like the other men here. He almost seemed innocent. 

And you wanted to be the one who corrupted him. 

“Would you like to go somewhere more private?” 

The question lingered between you for a whole three seconds before he was quickly nodding his head, happily taking your hand as you began to guide him towards the rooms in the back. You never went there with any patrons from the club, but Steve was different. 

The first thing Steve noted was how dark the room was. There were a few coloured lights dotted around, the red hue shining and engulfing every inch of your skin. It shouldn’t have made his cock stir in his pants the way it did, it shouldn’t have made his mouth dry.

“Champagne?” 

The words had left his brain, leaving Steve to only nod in response. 

You passed him the flute of champagne, the bubbles tinted red and the drink a little pink. It almost matched the colour of your lips. He let you take his other hand and guide him to the leather couch that took up the whole back wall of the room. He let you push his chest until he fell back, the liquid in his glass sloshing but neither of you caring.

“What do you do back here?” He asked, his voice low and rough. He almost felt like he should be whispering.

“Whatever you want,” you replied, a dark promise on your lips, and Steve realised he wanted all of them. 

“Anything,” he breathed out. 

His eyes were glued to you as you leaned over him, straddling his lap until you were pressed up against him and your faces were mere inches apart. The glass in his hand was long gone, clanking as it rolled off the couch and landed on the floor—but neither of you cared. His hands moved to your waist, large and warm and holding onto you like a fucking lifeline.

“Is this your first time here, baby?” You asked, your nose gently nudging his as you bit back your grin when you saw his eyes fluttering shut.

Steve nodded slightly.

Your smile became a little more dangerous. “You want me to make it memorable?”

“Please,” he rasped. 

“Just relax,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his and a pained noise left his lips as you ground your hips against his. “Be a good boy f’me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whined before you finally pressed your lips against his, muffling the noises that he made. 

The rooms were sound-proof and the music out on the main stage was loud enough to drown everything out, but a selfish part of you wanted to keep his noises all to yourself. You didn’t even know his name, you didn’t know anything about him. 

But maybe that just made you want him more.

You tore your lips away from his, tracing a line of kisses along his cheek and down his jaw. You dipped your head to the junction of his neck, teeth scraping against his sensitive skin as his hips rutted up into you. The noises he was making were pathetic and needy and made the coil in the pit of your stomach tighten. 

“Fuck, I—” Steve’s head rolled back, resting against the back of the couch as he squeezed your hips. “I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?” You hummed in his ear, nipping his lobe as you rocked back and forth on his lap. You could feel his cock straining beneath the fabric of his slacks, could feel the way he was pulsing and desperate to come. “You gonna come for me? Gonna make a mess for me, baby boy?”

“Shit,” he hissed as his eyes fell shut, his mouth slack.

“That’s it, baby, that’s my boy,” you murmured, placing soft kisses along his cheek as he let out a pitiful whine when your grinding became too much.

You took pity on the boy, your fingers gripping his chin as you pulled him into one last kiss, your tongue lazily stroking against his before you pulled yourself off his lap. “You did good, baby.”

Steve blinked, a slight dazed look in his eyes as he stared up at you. “Wait, you didn’t—”

“You can make it up to me,” you said with a knowing smile on your face. “I’ll see you around, baby boy.”

And Steve could only watch as you walked out the room, jaw slack and hands itching to touch you once again. He wanted to know what you looked like, what you sounded like, what you tasted like when you came. Fuck, he wanted to know everything about you. 

Even if he didn’t know your name.

.

[lottins-only]

I bet we’d have really good bed chem | aurélien tchouaméni

A/N: i wrote this on a whim lmao but lmk what yall think. inspired by the sabrina carpenter song obvi.

warning: nsfw ig. not full on smut but suggestive stuff

you see him before he does. he’s hard to miss, moving around the party surrounded by a herd of people, as if to not interact with the normies. it makes you roll your eyes. why do famous people have to make such a fuss everywhere they go?

it’s a packed house party that night in Madrid, hosted by some influencer who hangs around the rich and famous. no wonder a couple real madrid players are here. they roll red carpets for them wherever they go in these parts. you, on the other hand, have no business being at the party, but you’d slipped in as a plus one of a plus one. 

now, you’re indulging in all the free drinks, moving your body to whatever beat is playing. you and your friend are dancing together, moving among the mass of hot sweaty bodies. you’re having a time. 

that is, until some asshole steps on your foot, crushing your toes through your open toe heels. 

“Ow!” you yelp, hands flying to your feet. “What the fuck?”

“Oh mon dieu, I’m  sorry” a deep, accented voice says while a firm hand on your arm steadies you. you look up to find its owner, and lo and behold it’s mr. aurelien tchouameni himself, madrid’s resident pretty boy.

he has the audacity to smirk at you while you’re still wincing in pain, dragging his eyes up your sheer black dress languidly. eyes pause at your cleavage before moving up to your face again. you yourself take stock of what’s in front of you; it’s not everyday you see someone so famous, and you gotta admit, so handsome up close. he’s dressed in a white bomber jacket and a pair of dark skinny jeans. that second part alone should’ve given you the ick but his beautiful face makes up for his disastrous fashion sense:  plump, full lips. high cheekbones. jawline that could cut glass. deep brown eyes. he smiles a knowing smile, licking his lips. he knows you think he’s hot, of course he does. 

“what’s your name?” he asks, hand still on your arm.

“y/n” 

“I’m aurelien”

no shit, you think.

you shake hands, eyes locked. 

“pretty name” you say

“pretty face” He says without skipping a beat. you smile involuntarily.

someone shoves past you in that moment, pushing you forward. you try to steady yourself, one hand instinctively landing on his chest. you almost gasp; he might as well have been made with stone the way his muscled chest is hard. you fight every desire you have to move your hand around the ridges of his abs, feel him up a bit.

he smirks again, leaning down close to your ear.

“need a hand or do you just like what you see?” His breath is hot against your neck, making you shiver.

you quickly snatch your hand away, flushing hotly. he caught you red handed, like he read your mind.  when he leans back up his eyes are twinkling with mischief. bitch, you think.

“y/n, do you want to –”

he’s interrupted by one of his people whispering in his ear. He turns to you, apologetic again. 

“give me your phone” He says. when you just give him a confused look, he takes the device out of your hand and deftly puts in his contact details, sliding the phone back into your palm in seconds. your breath hitches at the feeling of your fingers touching. 

“i have to go” he says, then looks down at your feet. “sorry again”

he winks, flashing you a smile. then he’s gone. you shift to the side as his entourage moves, trying to avoid getting trampled on again. 

you stay up a little later that night, staring at his contact on your phone, wishing you’d been the one to give him your number so he could reach out first. no one left you tongue tied like that, but the thing is, he’s so hot. So, here you are.  

a couple days go by and your friend lets you know that the person who invited her to party reached out asking for your instagram. apparently, a friend of that person's friend met you at the party and wanted to connect. your friend asks if its ok to pass along your handle, and you hesitantly say yes, hoping, wishing, it's him and not some rando you don't remember meeting.

you get the notification on instagram that night: aurelientchm has requested to follow you!

you wait an hour to accept his request, and his message is instant: what does a guy have to do to get a text from you?

you type back: not step on my feet for starters 

touché, he responds within seconds.  you keep texting, flirting. you find you have a lot of the same tastes in music, movies, and also the same humor, so it’s pretty easy to make conversation. another week goes by and you start texting daily and even sending each other voice notes . you try to meet up, but it never works out: you’re either swamped with work, or he’s busy with training or off at an away match. 

not in your timezone, but I wish I was :(  he texted once when you proposed meeting but he was abroad for a champions league game.

the trouble starts when you open his instagram live one night. there he is in his home gym, your breath hitching at the sight of him. shirtless and glistening with sweat, he moves along to the beat of the music, mouthing the words to the french rap playing. his chest is sculpted and chiseled, pecs and abs defined. his shoulders, broad and powerful, lead down to a narrow waist. you watch as he goes through his routine, mouth slightly agape and heart racing  as your eyes track his every movement, his every flex of muscle. then it’s over. the notification saying the live ended interrupts your almost drooling. 

you toss and turn in your sleep during the night. the way he moved, his beautiful body, it was all stuck in your head. you can’t help it, you think about him touching you. those deep brown eyes giving you bedroom eyes.  how he’d pick you up, pull down your panties, flip you around. You can hear his deep accented voice murmuring sweet nothings while his head is buried in between your legs. you imagine how he’d look hovering above you, that damn silver chain dangling down between you two. would he have the same concentrated look he had at the gym when he’s inside you? eyebrows furrowed, biting his lip, forehead glistening with sweat? you’d move together in a steady rhythm, your hands clinging to his back. he’d maintain eye contact throughout. and then, after basking in each other’s pleasure, you’d both arrive at the same time. you can see it all in your head.

needless to say, you go to sleep that night with an unsatisfied ache between your legs.

the instagram live is just the beginning though. aurelien starts sending you gym videos that leave you hot and bothered pretty regularly, and now it’s pretty clear to you that he’s thirst trapping you. slow zoom-ins of his chest interspersed with some cute content of his dog fill your screen whenever you open his snaps; the man is truly a menace. the worst part is that it works: you spend an alarming amount of time thinking about him, or thinking about you and him together, doing nasty things. if his end goal is leaving you in a perpetual state of horniness, then he’s achieved it. it’s unfair really. 

are you free next week?

when you receive his text in the middle of work, you don’t hesitate for a second before replying with an enthusiastic yes. you quickly arrange to meet him at your place after his afternoon match. he even sends you tickets for you and a friend to attend the game, which you both enjoy. but as much as you try to focus on the game, your thoughts are already preoccupied. you make a joke with your friend about manifesting that he's oversized. because that’s all you can think about during those 90 minutes. you have high expectations, but you bet it’s better than in your head.

before you know it, you’re back in your apartment, waiting for him to pull up. you jump when you hear a knock, and you quickly open the door. he’s standing there looking handsome and freshly showered in his real madrid tracksuit and smiling that pretty smile at you. you lock eyes, and they say things you don’t verbalize. 

“hi” he says.

“hi” you say back, flushing.

he drops his bag to the floor, and he quickly sweeps you off the ground,  his lips crashing onto yours.

it is indeed better than in your head, you later find out. 

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Buffed Brass and Baritones - An Arthur Shelby/Reader One Shot Story.

A bit of Arthur smut, besties? Yes. Why not. Inspired by a statement shared by my lovely @call-sign-shark earlier today. This is for you, babe!

(GIF credit - @edmundhoar)

Words - 1,114

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You’d never considered the Birmingham accent to be particularly sexy before, you had to admit. That was until Arthur fucking Shelby opened his mouth and let that rumbling baritone out, of course. Now, well... the man could recite something as simple as a grocery list to you and you’d probably come on the spot, such is your weakness for those deep, gritty tones.  

“Are ya all finished, bab?” he asks as you meander outside of the back room door within The Garrison. “Everywhere nice and clean, is it?” 

Instantly, your knees tremble. “Yes, Mr Shelby. Absolutely spotless.” 

“Good.” His eyes rake over you, lips curling into a wide grin. “Then how’d ya fancy getting a bit dirty, eh?” 

Did... did he really just proposition you?  

“Well?” he barks, making you jump a little. “No good you standing there floundering like a bloody fish! Do you want me to fuck ya, or not?”  

“I mean, yes, but...” 

“Well then!” He rises from his seat, pointing in the direction of the bar. “Get your clobber off, go on!”  

You know he’s loud and uncouth, but still, you’re taken by surprise, rooted to the spot, Arthur letting out a sigh as he reaches for you. “Fine, fucking fine! I’ll get your bloody clobber off!” Throwing you over his shoulder like a little rag doll, his big hand smacks hard against your bum, your squealing giggle filling the empty pub.  

He seats you right at the very end of the bar, yanking you close, kissing you with all the passion and torrent of a storm, lithe body pressing to yours as his hands force your knees apart. Your shoes drop from your feet onto the floor, Arthur wasting no time in pulling your dress up. 

Your eyes suddenly widen. “Shit! I’m not wearing my good knickers.” 

He doesn’t miss a beat, raising an eyebrow at you as he yanks them off. “And now you’re wearing no knickers at all, bab.” Pushing your thighs apart, a rumble of desire sounds his throat as he sees your cunt splayed before him. “Blimey, ain’t you pretty.” 

He dives straight in with no hesitation at burying his mouth against your folds, hungry tongue roving over you before settling to beat back and forth over your clit. Your hips rise, your mouth dropping open, staggered by the fast pace of it all. Arthur isn’t a man who entertains wasting time, though. Sex with him surely would never be any different.  

He’s completely unrelenting with you, sucking on your bud greedily as he groans deep, the sound settling over your bones as the pleasure lights you up like a firework. His fingers sink into the soft of your thighs, eyes twinkling at you as he watches you enjoy it, smiling at you with a wink. “Like that, don’t ya?” 

“Oh my bloody god!” you cry, you voice pinched tight. “How can anyone be so good with their tongue?” 

He rumbles a chuckle. “Lots of practice, bab.” You don’t doubt that for a second. God, if he was yours, you’d never let him come up for air. He then slows, making you glimmer with long, flat licks, slowing until you begin to whine and shake.  

“Fucking hell,” he groans, the tip of his tongue beating rapidly over your clit. “You’re drowning me.” 

“Sorry,” you pant, feeling a little self-conscious.  

He eyes you curiously, snorting a soft laugh. “Ain’t a a bad thing, love. Ain’t a bad thing at all.” He gives you a few more glimmer-evoking licks before straightening, hands moving to unhook his braces and undo his trousers. “I think you’re ready to get fucked now, beautiful.” 

Pulling his cock out, he pushes straight into you… and in… and in… and… 

“Jesus, Arthur!” you gasp, mouth falling open. “How bloody long is it?” 

His grin is so snugly self-assured as he finally bottoms out, dragging back once more. “Long enough to make a donkey cry if I stood next to him naked.” 

You laugh, and it turns into a shrill cry as he doesn’t hesitate in beginning to drive into you like a piston.  

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” you grit, Arthur tossing your legs over his shoulders, smiling at how much you immediately love being on the receiving end of his long, hungry cock. 

“Mmm, a pretty girl with a foul mouth,” he pants, turning his head to kiss your ankle. “My favourite kind.” Giving you the kind of pounding that has your screams filling the room, your body is shunted against the bar forcefully, your mouth hanging open in exclamation. He then slows, enjoying the hot, tight clutch of your cunt, his eyes falling to watch how his cock sparkles in the dim light, glazed in the velvet wet of you. 

You can barely belive you’re doing it. You’re actually having sex with your boss, the man you’ve dreamed of for months. He is the sexual splendour you’ve always fantasised about, stroking your walls so deftly, so deeply, the power behind him barely contained. He leans to you, tugging your dress and bra down, his mouth raining kisses across your flushed chest, tongue seeking your nipples, circling slowly, slowly.   

Adding a little more speed to each teasing thrust, he begins to stoke the bonfire of your pleasure, your flames crackling, feeling unmoored entirely. Your slippery walls flex around him in appreciation of his assailing, igniting you with the delicious depth of each thrust as you sheathe him, crying out, his hands bracketing your waist.  

Something within him breaks at hearing your shrill wails, and once again he begins to pound into you with unmatched ferocity, giving you all that you craved, his self-control abandoned, his graveled groans intoxicating to your ears.   

“Look how good you take it. Mmmm, yeah. What a fucking good girl.” 

Everything is wild, fervid, uncontained and magmatic, both of you spiralling headlong into the kind of release that has your moans and groans filling the air along with the sound of your skin smacking together. It capsizes you, an undoing of all-consuming magnitude charging through you, the god-given talent of his fuck rendering you a shaking, panting mess beneath him.   

“Bloody hell,” he pants, forehead rested between your breasts, placing a kiss on your sternum. “Dunno what else to say other than bloody hell!” 

“You could say anything, Arthur, and it would leave me knock-kneed,” you gasp, reaching to stroke his hair. 

“What,” he begins, turning his head to kiss your inner wrist, “even more knock-kneed than fucking you so hard atop the bar, your arse has probably buffed the brass?” 

You pull a thoughtful face as he begins to laugh. “Maybe not that much.”  

[squippy360]

Would be interesting to see SubTop!Clark Kent x DomBottom!Male reader

Clark Kent x Male Reader

(CW: overstimulation, cursing, degrading, lingerie play)

I stumbled through the front door of me and Clark's house, dragging Clark in by his tie. I slammed the door closed and shoved him against the wall, pinning one of his arms to his side. 

"I can't fucking take you anywhere. All those damn people flirting with you like they're a bunch of bitches in heat." You growled at him, running your hands over his firm body. Clark's eyes were filled with shame, lust, and need. 

"I-I'm sorry, my love! T-They just seemed so nice a-and I didn't think that it would make you upset…" Clark's eyes softened and glossed over, flashing me his puppy eyes. 

"After they groped your arms you came running over to me and practically humped me. You got turned on by those fuckers fondling your muscles, you naughty bitch." You growled and gripped his face and smashed your lips onto his. He whined loudly but was cut off by a firm squeeze on his carotid artery. His eyes rolled back a bit and his legs shook as he tried to stay up. 

I smirked and pulled away, watching as his bright pink lips twitched and small whimpers escaped his mouth. "Please…" He whined. I could see that his pants were tight as his cock strained against the restricting fabric. I grabbed him by the tie and yanked him upstairs. He stumbled along and yelled as I pushed him into the bed. 

I crawled on his lap and tore off his dress shirt. I sighed at his black lingerie that supported his big pecs. I smashed my face in his chest and sucked and bit his nipples. "Good boy~," I said and ground against Clark's waist. 

"Oh please! I'm gonna lose it, darling!" Clark whimpered and bucked his hips up into me. I wiggled down and began to take our clothes off. His big and pretty pink cock was dripping with precum all over his underwear. I threw them away and flopped on the bed, pulling Clark on top of me. 

"Prove that you can be a good boy. That you can control yourself in public without the need to cum in your pants every time you're near me." I said and grabbed a condom and lube. I tore the condom open and rolled it onto Clark's cock while spreading lube around my hole. 

"Should I prep you? I don't want it to hurt-" Clark began. "Be a good boy and fuck me already." I said and spread my legs far enough for his waist to fit perfectly. He lifted my hips easily and slipped his cock into my tight hole. He moaned softly and pumped his cock in and out of me mindlessly. 

I gasped and arched my back, moaning loudly. "F-Fuck- OH!" I saw stars when he buried his face in my neck and humped me faster. I clawed at his back and whined into his shoulder loudly. His hands felt around me everywhere before grabbing my cock and jerking it in his hand. 

My eyes rolled back and my thighs twitched as I came all over my tummy. "Fuck! Clark!" I moaned. He was whimpering louder, getting close to his release. 

"Stop." I growled. 

"No! Please!" He sobbed loudly as his hips came to a sudden jerk. I smirked and wiggled my hips to tease him. I waited a bit before letting him thrust into me again. 

"Keep going but don't cum unless I tell you." He was faster this time. His moans were high-pitched and whiny. His thrusts became sloppy and needy.

"Shit…shit shit! Yes!" My eyes rolled back and my hips twitched. "Such a good boy~ Oooooh~" I whined as his cock bottomed out inside of me and his cum filled my hole. I shuddered and looked down with a lustful face. He sighed happily and trusted a few times, burying his semen deeper inside me. 

He slowly pulled out and watched with glazed eyes as the cum poured out. I wiggled into the bed more and let Clark clean us. He shyly dressed us before hopping into bed and cuddling into my arms. 

"Was it good?" Clark whispered gently. 

"You were wonderful, love." I whispered back. He kissed me and we both spent the night giggling about our day. 

Next: uhhhhhhhhh-

[atlafan]

Layna's never been so ravenous for her boyfriend. Which is shocking because there have been many times where she's felt more than desperate to have his body on hers, but this is something different entirely.

Normally, she doesn't like winter by the time February hits. The holidays are long since over, and the snow is less magical. There's black ice everywhere, and the air hurts her face. All that being said, she just found a new reason to like winter.

Sweater vests.

She had no idea Harry even owned them until she saw him wearing one at the latest showing at her gallery. He looked so handsome. All dressed up in a pair of slacks, loafers, sweater vest, and a long jacket. He hasn't exactly been dressing appropriately for winter, so when she sees him walk into the gallery, she feels like the wind has been knocked out of her. Layna is a professional, but she only has so much willpower when it comes to Harry. She's let him fuck her in the backseat of her car in the gym parking lot for fuck's sake.

They lock eyes from across the room. Layna takes out her phone and sends him a text. He raises an eyebrow when he sees her name lit up on his phone.

You're mean

how am I mean?

You look too good

not sry

Bet you're wearing that nice cologne I like so much too

u bet ur🍑

need you

ur werking

come to my office, no one will notice if I slip away for a few minutes

bet

Harry shoves his phone into his jacket pocket and makes his way to Layna's office. It's in such a private area, she's not worried about being caught. Besides, the gallery sold out. Her work is essentially done for the night.

So, that's how Layna ended up clutching at Harry's chest with her leg up over his hip, pressed up against the door of her office on a work night. His lips are on her neck, sucking on her like a leech as her fucks her with his fingers. Her fingers twirl in the material of the vest and she's doing her best not to make too much noise. Her lips are going to be incredibly swollen by the time they're done. She's panting and near convulsing in his arms. Her fingers move up to his hair to rug on. It's finally grown out to a length where she can actually tug on it again. He moans into her neck and pushes her harder up against the door. One of his hands presses flat against it by her head, and she can't help but whimper as she looks at his pulsing veins and rings.

"Shit, I'm gonna make a mess." She gasps when she feels Harry's fingers fucking shallowly into her while his thumb rubs her clit. "I don't want to ruin your pants."

Harry pulls away and looks at her before sinking to his knees and wrapping his lips around her clit as he continues to fuck her with his fingers. Her hands fly right back to his hair. She nearly loses her balance, but Harry keeps her stead, placing one of her legs over his shoulder. He looks up at her and smirks, and that's when she loses it. She lets out a loud cry of his name as he laps away at her juices. He drags her panties back up when he's done and stands up slowly as he runs his hands up her body. He cups her jaw and licks into her mouth. She melts into him.

"I knew you'd like this outfit." He smirks. "Daddy cleans up real good when he wants to, hm?"

"You mean you did this to me on purpose?" She pouts.

"Payback for all your relentless teasing the last few weeks."

"You can't tell me that wearing shorts in the freezing cold doesn't look funny." She scoffs. "Besides, thought we made up from all of that."

"We did." He nods, squeezing her hips. "But I couldn't resist making you sweat."

"Well, you succeeded, and then some. Let me-"

"Nope." He steps back from her. "You can wait until we get home. I'm gonna shove my dick so far down your throat you'll be gagging all over it, and it'll ruin your pretty makeup. You're working, Layna. Compose yourself and be professional." He moves her, she's too stunned to speak. He wacks her ass before leaving the office.

A shiver runs up her spine. How much longer does she have to stay at work for?

NO COMPLAINTS BLURB

[thewritersofdeceased]

CELEBRATING HALLOWEEN WITH TBP BOYS <3

!!HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN!! <33

[ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 ]

You two go Trick Or Treating together!

Maybe matching costumes or not, your choice!

He brings a flashlight so you don't trip down any stairs leaving houses

Apologizes if you two knock on a house that looks empty

Gwen comes along and brings Amy with you guys!

If you're cold, Finney gives you his jacket or hoodie.

Brings a couple bucks so you can stop at a store and get hot chocolate or something warm

[ 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐎 ]

You two binge horror movies!

He doesn't mind dressing up and going Trick Or Treating with you!

Though he mainly goes so he can protect you and make sure there aren't any creeps.

He has a mask over his face and his bandana on his head so his hair doesn't get in the way

He probably holds your hand and walks up to the house with you

Carries you down the stairs

[ 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ]

Only goes to scare the shit outta kids

Probably drags Griffin and Billy along so they leave him alone about going

He's a God at SFX makeup

Makes himself look like he got stitched up everywhere

He does the Zipper mouth look alongside that

Probably fights Moose so he gets legit blood on himself

[ 𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑 ]

Has so much fun going Trick Or Treating!

He loves matching with you and Rover!!

He doesn't take his bike so you can walk together!

Usually stands back with Rover while you go and get candy, then you two switch!

Loves when people compliment you, Rover and his outfits, even when they stop to pet Rover!

[ 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆 ]

Goes Full Out.

Constantly holding your hand

Probably hides whenever he sees someone with a mask or chainsaw

Hates haunted houses, so that's a no.

He brings glow sticks and makes them necklaces for you both!

[ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐀 ]

Has so much fun going to parades, walking around, doing everything with you <3

Takes you to the rich people neighborhood

Probably shared a bit of his candy with Amy and the rest with you

If you don't want to match, that's okay!

Once you two are done, you go home and watch classic Halloween movies <3

[ghxstmxchine]

Haiii can u write Hobie x trad goth male reader? Reader makes Hobie listen to his music n shit

ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ᴡ/ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀᴅ ɢᴏᴛʜ ʙꜰ

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: anon I screamed when I got this ask, I don't dress up as much but I was such a die hard goth as a teen. was super super excited to write this!

☆ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ: SFW // includes: Hobie x male!reader // w.c: .2k

He absolutely loves your style, could've sworn it was his very own love at first sight when he first saw you in the crowd at one of his shows. He just knew he had to get your number

True to his word, he’s willing to switch things up whenever you ask him to listen to your music with you. He's open minded to almost every genre outside of the usual punk

Definitely takes a bit to get used to the "slower" vibe of most goth bands in comparison to the full throttle vibe behind punk but loves the artistic perspective behind each song

Loves the guitar riffs and the way they sing, similar to punk he likes how the genre has a such unique voice that comes with songs

Tries to learn some of the songs on his guitar to impress you, and if you know how to play anything he definitely asks you to teach him (he’s actually really good at learning songs by ear but would rather get some alone time with you)

Buys records/cds of your favorite bands whenever he's out to give you them as gifts and sometimes he buys ones from bands you both don't know so you can give something new a listen

There is no one more patient than Hobie when it comes to helping with and hair or makeup, he knows how long it can take personally and will lend a hand

Smudge proof lipstick is a must because he will make out with you and smudge it everywhere

Shares all of his jewelry with you and vice versa, he has a good collection but still takes anything he finds cool from yours. You'll often be looking for something only to find Hobie wearing it because he thought it looked cool

Loves how you're taller than him in platforms but won’t let it stop him from grabbing you by your shirt and dragging you down to his height to kiss you

He also loves talking about you to everyone because he just has to let them know how cool his boyfriend is

[yeetus-feetus]

Okay but what about Bruce ends up taking all the little kids to a gala with him because none of his kids want to go and they'll only escape anyway if he drags them there.

He's got baby Helena on his hip and Lizzie clinging to his side even dropping on adult conversations. Lian and Mar'i are sucking up to the older ladies so they can con sweet treats and hard candy from them. Jake and Ellie (Stephanie's daughter whom I named Elizabeth way before I knew about Diana's daughter) are colouring at a table together quietly.

And Bruce can't stop talking about his babies and grandbabies. And he's showing all the other rich socialites cute little photos and everyone's just gushing over how cute they are.

And they all look so adorable in their little outfits too!! Dressing them all up and taking photos at the gala and just gloating over how these kids are the best kids, even better than all the other socialites kids/grandkids.

And obviously this won't last long, soon the little ones will be whining about how boring the galas are and Bruce will have to find new people to drag along with him. But I definitely think Lian and Mar'i will keep coming for as long as they can milk the adorable little girl acts to fill their pockets with treats.

Dick is probably a little disappointed at Mar'i but it's not like he didn't do the exact same thing himself so he'd be a hypocrite for telling her off. Jason and Roy just high five Lian with a laugh and ask her to share the goods she collected with them.

Also like Bruce going to their school or sports things whenever he can get the time to do so. He's one of those mom types that are convinced their kids are the best in the play or on the soccer field and he gets really bitchy about other mums who do the exact same thing.

And obviously Bruce pays for all there school fees to get them into good education. He spoils the little ones absolutely rotten.

Like the kids at school will be like "oh yeah my grandparents gave me $500 for Christmas so I could choose whatever I wanted". And Jake is like "yeah well my grandpop got me a real motorbike and a phone!"

Holy hell does Dick parental lock the shit out of that phone btw. He also knows Bruce has a tracker on it because he's paranoid about the little ones getting hurt or something. Which is contradictory to the fact he got the kid an actual kid-sized motorcycle. Dick is not happy. Kori thinks it's awesome.

Also like, of you wanted you can also add Tim's baby clones in here too. A little Bart clone and a little Kon clone causing chaos everywhere they go. Bruce loves his grandbabies despite everything but damn those little boys really wear him out running circles around him.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

can you do a tom x reader where the reader is in a girl group and goes on tour with tokio hotel and they all get into a bunch of shenanigans together? LOVE LOVE LOVEEE YOUR WORK BTW!!

(Hey! Sure I can and thank you for loving and requesting my work! Sorry if this isn't really a Tom x reader but enjoy!)

Tour Shenanigans

You guys always wake up with headaches at this point

Tom is almost thrown out onto the balcony and has no recollection of whatever you guys did

Bill is buried under piles of clothes, your band members are almost drowning in food, Gustav is dressed in a hula dancer outfit, Georg's hair is in braids and is painted purple

You guys cannot remember for the life of you guys what happened until media leaks it the next day

You guys are constantly at clubs and getting shit faced

One time you guys somehow ended up being the bartender and serving the actual bartender

You and Tom could legit go on for hours with each other doing god knows what

Your band and Tokio Hotel are actually pretty good friends

You guys got drunk and went down skinny dipping in a lake and almost drowned

Bill was once dressed as a princess

On Halloween one time you guys pretended a member of your band was seven and used her for candy

You guys constantly raid gas stations and supermarkets

You guys had to run because Georg pushed you and Tom, who were sitting in a cart, into a display case

Shit went everywhere and the staff got pissed

You guys hauled ass out of there

There are videos that surfaced of you pretending to be Tom, Tom was somehow dressed as you, Bill and your band member were holding each other on a couch and murmuring some sorta language before making out, Gustav was being held up by your friends and screaming "Jesus is me!" While your friends bowed to him and Georg was blasting music on his bass

Saying how drunk you were was an understatement

You guys went to the depths of hell

So many things you guys CANNOT bring up again out of fear of going to jail

Interviewers bring how you guys act up so much you guys start blaming each other

You guys have stolen so much shit, some even by accident and are too afraid to bring it back

You guys get bored in hotel rooms and just ding-dong ditch hotel rooms

You guys knocked hard as hell on a door once and you tripped Tom on accident but left him

He was laying on the ground and trying to get out of a situation with a confused man at the door

You guys had to run back and drag him by his feet down the hall to get out

You guys go to a lot of attractions like amusement parks, carnivals, but you and your band once dragged them into a haunted house

Georg was oddly calm and trying to find a way out

Gustav and your guitarist were clinging to each other and when they tried to run bumped into each other

Bill tried to be hero and help your friend he has a crush on but ended up screaming and jumping into her arms

You and Tom somehow got lost and we're trying to sacrifice each other to a clown

Somehow you all ended up back together and huddled all in a corner while screaming

Of course, Tom tripped again and you guys had to run back and carry him away as a man with a knife chased y'all

You guys once tried an escape room but it ended up in you guys screaming at each other

The operator kept coming on and saying not to break shit and going "that's not a clue!" Because you guys were so helpless

You guys try and cook dinner but somehow make it even worse than before

You guys on the tour bus have a game of when the bus moves, stand up and who lasts the longest wins

It was pretty fun until the bus took a turn and you were practically thrown into the door

Turns out, nobody locked it!

The door busted open and you barely grabbed onto the door frame as everyone was yelling for the bus driver to stop and Bills fighting for his life to get you back on

Tom is screaming on roller coasters and clinging to your arm while screaming in horror

He looks like he's bouta die ngl

When getting jump scared do not expect him to play hero

He'll forget About you and haul ass, looking back and seeing you

He tried going back for you but couldn't

The pants did not hold him down whatsoever because he was holding them like they were a dress and legit BOOKING it

He was aa fast as the speed of light let me tell you

Karaoke with this dude gets competitive

Especially with both bands

You guys broke a window and TV

Do not play Wii with these assholes because it did not end well

The remotes were thrown every direction possible and you guys got called by the desk to shut the fuck up

You guys go to the beach sometimes and once went at night

You guys were so far out you didn't think you were gonna make it

It was horrifying

Drives with Tom are oddly calming

Music is blasting, driving fast and leaning out the window as you guys are screaming lyrics

Oddly therapeutic

He doesn't leave you alone on stage

He is messing with you and kissing your neck just to make you laugh

You all once went through a drive through with Bill in a shopping cart

You guys got in trouble bc you forgot money for the food you ordered and they called the cops

You guys ran away in every direction as Tom is legit running and pushing the shopping cart with Bill in it as fast as he can

Media eats this shit up

So many pictures of you guys drunk and wasted but somehow still managing to do some stupid shit

You guys get scolded so many times but continue to do it

[slasher-dasher]

Ummmmm

Headcanons where the slashers end up dating a cute s/o like the COMPLETE opposite of them like their s/o loves to dress in cute clothes and is very bubbly and sweet and caring and the slashers just a murderer- (words are hard)

Slashers w/an Opposite S/O

︶꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Danny Johnson:

He loves horror movies, and doesn't get that scared easily bc of this. You though...

Every time you two have a movie night you cling to him for dear life. He does cover your eyes during more intense scenes so you don't get sick/squeamish from the gore. (You two watch a more lighthearted movie after nights like that)

Loves this, he likes knowing that you want to enjoy his interests even if it's not your thing, and that he does the same. Loves knowing you aren't afraid of him

Also likes how caring you are towards him, especially when he's being distant to prepare for a hunt

HATES how sweet you are to everyone else, but he doesn't let it show unless the other person thinks you're flirting. Danny gets jealous very easily

RZ!Michael Myers:

He's absolutely the creative one out of the two of you, a lot of the house decor was chosen by both of you and arranged by him, along with some homemade items for a personal touch. Many things he makes are on display

He peeked into your closet once to make you a few masks and took psychic damage from all the colors in it. You two are like the black and pink house meme

If he isn't wearing his white mask and coveralls, he's wearing band t-shirts, black jeans or sweatpants, and any of his masks that fit the outfit (usually the orange one)

Doesn't seem to be bothered by your bubbly personality, but when you get either too loud or really hyper he holds your head in his hands to let you both calm down for a bit

Michael is not an affectionate person, but he won't push you away if you try to cuddle or hug him, he just won't initiate

Bo Sinclair:

Angry man who's mad at the world 🤝 the person who makes him soft

Your happy-go-lucky personality does make him melt though, even if he doesn't want to admit it. His brothers joke with him about it constantly

Vincent is the only one who tries to keep the house clean when he's there, but the other two Sinclair's don't really keep up with it. Thankfully, you love to have a clean space, and it stops Bo in his tracks the first time he walks in on you scrubbing every surface in sight

He still has his moments, especially if you've been away from him for longer than an hour. You're taken everywhere he can drag you if he's feeling jealous (as far away from his brothers as possible)

Bo is a very emotionally repressed person, so someone like you who just seems to be an open book is very new for him. Might not want to get too close to you at first bc he doesn't want to scare you off

Billy Lenz:

Oh you are in for a hectic partner with Billy

The first time you pick up one of his calls and hear how vulgar he is you're a blushing mess, and he eats that shit up. No one else can pick up when he calls or your sorority friends start going missing.

You'd think he'd be clingy but he doesn't like to be touched unless he asks, which you forget about sometimes (cue dissociation)

Your softness also caught him off guard. He knew you were easily embarrassed, but he didn't know you would be understanding too

His talking and echolalia are at all time highs around you. Most of your time in the attic is hours of him talking about whatever pops into his mind while you just quietly listen. He likes this much better than talking to you on the phone bc it's just you two (and Claude sometimes)

[isackwhy]

Heyyy, I was wondering if you'd be able to write a fic where the reader is having a terrible day and whoever you wish to write for holds them and sings to them and comforts them? Ty!

well. i’m high so u know i gotta do my boy isaac

isaacwhy x reader who had a bad day blurb/fic?

Everything was going wrong. You woke up angry the world like you were 13 again. You had run out of your favorite drink to start the day off. Then, you spilled water all over the kitchen before you were even dressed and ready. And then when you finally did and sat down to do some editing, your PC nearly shit the bed.

So, with a string of curses and a huff, you dialed your boyfriend.

That’s why Isaac is at your place as you pout on your bed, staring at him mess with your PC. “Do you want me to order food?” Isaac asks, sifting through your settings to find the issue. It’s running far too slow and nothing will open. You’d think it would be a simple issue, like not enough storage or something. No, of course it wasn’t fixed so simply.

“If you want to,” You reply dryly, trying your best to not let your mood sour Isaac’s. But, he freezes, no longer clicking on your monitor with your mouse. He spins around to face you, eyebrows raised. “Do you want food, babe?” Isaac asks again. You sigh, sitting up, “Yeah. Yeah. We can get food.”

Isaac narrows his eyes on you, “What’s up?”

“Just annoyed.”

“I’m getting this fixed as fast as I can, baby,” Isaac assures you but he’s met with an even louder sigh. “It’s not just that. I woke up angry. Forgot to get more of my favorite drink while at the store. I spilled water everywhere and I can’t even do my fucking work because my PC is a moron,” You angrily mumble.

Isaac runs a hand over his face, leaning forward in your chair, “Do you know why you woke up angry?”

“I’d be less angry if I did, Isaac,” You state, only to immediately regret your tone the second you see Isaac’s face drop. He’s just trying to help. It’s not his fault. You take a deep breath, moving to the edge of your bed, “I’m sorry. I just feel like shit, which isn’t an excuse—but, I’m sorry,” You tell him, reaching for his hands.

Isaac holds your hands, dragging himself towards you until your back hits your mattress and you’re cuddled up. Tears form in your throat and then brim your eyes but you hold back, trying wanting to hug Isaac. “Cabo Bob’s?” Isaac softly asks, resting a kiss to your head, “And I’ll have the driver get your drinks or—we can go get them while we wait for food.”

You sniffle, looking towards him, “Can we just—lay here for a little first?” Isaac nods quickly, resting his head atop of yours, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you need, babe. I love you.”

“I love you more,” You reply back, melting into his touch.

i hope this is good i’m high as shit