#the cheese on the head. a classic. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlexdeaths · 15 days ago

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eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, insecure eddie makes an appearance, eddie’s pov, tons of kissing, drug use (weed), grinding/dry humping and a whole lot of cheese, what can i say? (it’s a given with these two)

part four | part six

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 4.9k

a/n: damn this was a long time coming. thank you guys for being so patient with me during this writing slump. also big shoutout to @strangerstilinski for gifting me that one porno title. but i really need to give the biggest thank you to my bestie @undead-supernova ! august, you have truly helped me improve my writing so much over the past year, and i hope you know how much i love and appreciate you. this chapter is dedicated to you boo xx.

“You cannot be serious, sweetheart,” Eddie deadpans, looking between you and the VHS tape clutched between his fingers.

You feel your face warm, his overly exaggerated tone causing another customer in the horror section to give you both a sideways glance.

“As a heart attack,” you mumble, grabbing a copy of Children of the Corn to read the back cover in order to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Never seen Alien, she says…” he huffs under his breath, “It’s a classic!”

When you finally dare to peek up at him under your lashes, he’s giving you a look of utter disapproval that wavers on the edge of teasing.

“Sci-Fi isn’t really my thing,” you shrug, putting the tape back and reaching for another.

“But Evil Dead is?” he muses, leaning forward over your shoulder to glance at the cover art.

The background is dark, with two grotesque-like hands reaching into the frame and toward a bloodied Bruce Campbell holding a chainsaw above his head. When Eddie leans in closer to get a better look, the tips of his fingers brush against your own in the process. The gentle touch sends your body into overdrive and you swear your heart is about to leap out of your chest from the proximity.

“Well…what about this one?” you ask, stepping out of his embrace to head further down the aisle, ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks as you nearly stumble. Damn heels.

“I would argue that this is a classic.”

But Eddie just slips in behind you again, resting a hand on your hip while you hold a copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in your hands.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, holding back a snicker as you gasp in mock offense.

“You doubt my judgment?”

“Of course not,” he insists with a small snort. “But…maybe you have a thing for guys who wield chainsaws.”

You catch the sly grin that stretches across his lips out of the corner of your eye, a loud laugh puffing out from his chest when you playfully smack his shoulder. Eddie grabs the tape from you, leaning in a little closer until his lips brush against your ear.

And he doesn’t miss the subtle hitch of your breath.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart…” he cheekily assures, “Your secret is safe with me.”

When you throw a playful glare his way, he merely winks in response. Then he turns on his heel to stride back toward the front counter, snagging a box of Reese’s Pieces on his way. You fumble a step behind him before glancing up.

The employee manning the counter is someone you know all too well.

His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, the ends brushing against his forehead and falling into his eyes. But he’s still just as handsome, if not annoyingly so. And when Eddie sets the tapes on the counter, Steve barely spares him a passing glance. His brown eyes quickly settle on you as his lips pull up into a lazy grin.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks, the cadence of his voice is low but filled with a sticky sweetness that has your cheeks warming.

And if you didn’t know any better you would think he was flirting with you.

“O-Oh, I, uh— ”

“Yeah,” Eddie cuts in, his voice a little strained. “We found everything just fine, man.”

Steve gives you another soft grin as he snaps open the first case, a small snort leaving his nose.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the gore fest type.”

But that slight hint of disbelief in his tone has you wanting to shrink in on yourself.

“Then you don’t know her very well,” Eddie mutters under his breath.

Only, his snide comment isn’t as quiet as he initially intended.

But Steve says nothing, just clears his throat and runs a hand through his chestnut locks before sliding the movies across the counter. The clacking of the keyboard fills the uncomfortable silence as you tug at the worn vinyl on the counter.

“That’ll be $12.35.”

You can feel Eddie tense beside you.

“I thought the movies were 2 for $4 tonight?” you chime in softly, confusion scrunching your brows together.

Steve’s lip quirks up in a slight smirk as he glances between you and Eddie.

“Well, Munson here has racked up quite a lot of late fees…” he trails before whistling. The flash of amusement in his eyes has Eddie’s narrowing in warning.

But that look only seems to encourage him.

“Looks like we’ve got Erotic Night of the Living Dead, returned three days late. Munch Masters Vol. I…”, Steve pauses to scroll further down the list. “…and Vol. II, that was a week late.”

He flashes Eddie a condescending grin, “Must’ve really liked that one, huh?”

But before Steve can embarrass him further, Eddie fishes out his wallet and slams a couple bills down onto the counter. He grabs the tapes, tucking them under his arm and slips his hand in yours. The boy all but pulls you out of the store, his chin tucked toward his chest to try and hide the flames licking his cheeks.

Despite his ever growing irritation—fueled by the embarrassment of what just transpired—he still opens the door and helps you into the van.

Ever the gentleman.

“Harrington’s got some nerve,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he slides into the driver's seat. “With his nice smile and his stupid hair…” His voice drips with condescension as he slams the driver's door shut behind him.

“Embarrassing me is one thing. But blatantly flirting with my girl, right in front of me—like I wasn't even there?! That’s low even for him.”

Eddie doesn’t even realize what he just let slip, too busy fumbling to stick the key into the ignition.

A beat passes before you manage to gather the courage to speak, the jingling of keys echoing in your ears.

“Your girl?” you ask carefully, heart lodged in your throat.

Eddie’s whole body tenses, taking his time in setting the tapes down on the dashboard before finally turning to face you.

“Well…I, uh, shit,” he whispers, splotches of red beginning to creep up his neck while he exhales sharply through his nose. “I wanted to ask you in a proper, more romantic way—”

You suddenly turn in your seat, your grip on his collar firm while your lips manage to cut him off with a surprised hmph.

But he’s quick to recover, mouth molding over yours with an intensity that would make your knees buckle if you were still standing. And he keeps kissing you, slowly, deeply…until the windows begin to fog up from the heat of your mingling breaths.

“I don’t need romantic, Eddie,” you manage when he pulls away for some much needed air, your nose nudges against his own before you press another gentle kiss to his swollen lips. “Just you.”

And his answering grin is all the reassurance you need.

“Welcome to my castle,” Eddie says, gesturing toward the pale blue trailer with a tentative smile.

He barely let you push open the passenger door before he was running around the front of the van, almost dropping the VHS tapes tucked under his arm in the process. But the soft giggle you let slip when he bows and offers you his hand had his heart skipping a beat.

He keeps your fingers intertwined as you walk alongside him to the door. The uneven gravel makes the otherwise short distance in your heels a little more treacherous than normal. But Eddie is more than willing to catch you at the slightest hint of a wobble in your step.

The night air is far more frigid than either of you anticipated, and the shiver that ripples through you has him nearly dropping the keys in his rush to open the front door. He curses softly, breathing out a sigh of relief when the door finally swings open.

“Ladies first,” he grins, gesturing you forward.

Once you're both safely inside Eddie drops the keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and switching on lights as he goes. He inwardly cringes when he spots the fast food wrappers scattered across the counter and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

What a great first impression, Munson.

But when he remembers the current state of his bedroom, his face pales.

“Uh, I’m just gonna…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck before motioning behind him with his thumb. “Grab a new shirt, but go ahead and make yourself at home.”

Eddie waits until you’ve taken a seat on the sofa before starting down the hall. He’s frantic when he bursts through his bedroom door, immediately eyeing the pile of clothes strewn across his unmade bed. A disaster he left in the wake of trying to pull together a last minute Halloween costume.

He found the orange shirt that’s currently adorning your frame in the very back of his closet, a lost relic from the one time Wayne had managed to take him hunting. Eddie had fallen asleep up in the deer stand and almost shot a crossbow through his boot, and Wayne had vowed never again.

He had grabbed a discarded sharpie off his nightstand, the cap tucked between his teeth as he scribbled This is my Halloween costume across the front in his signature messy scrawl. While it wasn’t his most creative idea to date, it was either this or the god awful pirate costume he’d been suckered into a few years back. That most definitely did not fit him anymore.

Eddie scoops up an armful of clothes, tossing them onto the already cluttered floor of his closet. His movements are erratic, nearly tripping over one of his amps in the process. While Eddie isn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, he is unable to disguise the way his hands are trembling.

He’s nervous, so fucking nervous.

And when he dares to peek out of his room and down the hall, he immediately has to remind himself to breathe.

Because there you are, sitting on his couch, wearing his shirt. Looking almost heaven sent, your eyes alight with wonder as you take in the collection of hats and mugs adorning the walls.

“Get a fuckin’ grip, man,” he mumbles to himself, dropping to his knees to shove more of the remaining clutter under his bed.

Once he returns to his feet, he slips his jacket off his shoulders and tosses it over the back of the chair before rifling through the top drawer of his dresser for a new shirt. Despite what a majority of the town believed, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was no stranger to the sins of the flesh. He’d lost his virginity his first senior year in the back of his van to band geek, Polly O��Donnell.

Which was probably why her mom had failed him two years in a row. Not that he was keeping score or anything.

But even in that moment, Eddie hadn’t felt this nervous.

Maybe, it was because he didn’t harbor the same feelings for Polly that he did for you. Or perhaps the real reason was that he just didn’t trust people or their intentions. His tumultuous upbringing and treatment by his peers was testament enough of that. So Eddie kept most people at arm's length, not allowing them to see past his scary façade.

It was safer that way.

But one look from you was enough to have his carefully crafted walls crumbling down, laid to rubble beneath his feet.

And that’s the thing that scared him the most. That he would willingly throw himself (and his heart) into the crossfire if it meant you would continue to look at him like that.

Man, he had it bad.

He huffs out a breath, grabbing the first unwrinkled shirt that he can find and pulling it over his head. The male takes one final glance around his bedroom, deciding it’s good enough before he turns to leave. But something on his nightstand catches his eye, the joint he rolled earlier practically beckoning him with the promise of sweet relaxation.

And with the state of his jangled nerves, he could use all the help he could get.

So he slips the joint behind his ear, spinning the lighter between his thumb and forefinger as he pads down the hall toward you.

And while his nerves were ravaging his insides, you aren’t faring much better.

You had counted every mug and hat that lined the walls of his living room twice over, in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from the fact that you were actually here with him. All alone, with no prying eyes or listening ears to interrupt you. And despite the fact that he just put a shirt back on, it doesn’t stop your thoughts from wandering to not so innocent places.

The sleeves are cut off, showing off his surprisingly toned biceps. An array of dark ink flows over his arms, the black shirt making him appear almost paler in comparison. You tuck your lower lip between your teeth when you see the muscles in his forearms contract when he places his palms flat on the counter.

Your thighs press together as your gaze travels lower, where his jeans cling a little too tightly to his—

“You still up for some pizza?” he asks, picking up the phone and interrupting your thoughts.

“O-Oh, right!” you blink, averting your eyes. “Pizza sounds great.”

He quickly punches in a number before you can ask any further questions, holding the receiver up to his ear.

“Hey man, it’s Eddie,” he says after a few moments.

The male tucks the receiver between his ear and shoulder while he speaks, fingers drumming lightly along the countertop. The movement causes his hair to fall over his face, a stray curl eventually finding its way into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah the usual.” he sputters, spitting the hair out and tucking the wild curls back behind his ear. “But uh, can I get olives on half?”

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes roll into the back of his head fondly. And it has you contemplating what other ways you could make his eyes roll back.

“No no no, I have not become an ‘olive enthusiast.’” He scoffs, fingers curling into air quotes. “I just, I have…” he pauses, dark eyes flicking over to you. “I have a guest over tonight.”

And the way Eddie has to hold the phone away from his ear has you stifling a giggle. You can hear a muffled voice on the other end, their enthusiastic lilt apparent even from where you are perched on the end of the sofa.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” He chuckles, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But that should be it.” Eddie tucks the phone back in between his shoulder, reaching to grab his wallet from his back pocket.

“Oh wait, wait!” He exclaims, slapping his palm down onto the counter. “Add on an order of those cinnamon breadsticks too.”

You wish you could’ve been privy to their entire conversation, because the way Eddie flushes a deep crimson before he playfully tells the person on the other end to ‘kindly fuck off’ and hangs up the phone, has you beyond intrigued.

He takes a couple more bills out, tossing them on the counter and slips the wallet back into his pocket. The chain jingles against his thigh with each step he takes, your eyes unintentionally following the movement. He plops down onto the sofa beside you, the heat in his cheeks fading into a soft, rosy sheen.

“Nina’s is busy tonight,” he murmurs, setting something onto the small table beside him. “So, it might take a little longer than usual.”

“How did you know Nina’s Pizzeria was my favorite?” you ask, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion.

“Well,” he hums, leaning his head back against the cushions and giving you a lazy grin. “I just assumed you had much better taste than Domino’s, sweetheart.”

You playfully whack him with one of the throw pillows beside you, a stunned expression crossing over his features. Half of his hair is ruffled from where the pillow connected with his head, and this time you can’t contain the giggles from bubbling up in your chest.

“Oh you are so going to regret that, baby.” he taunts, eyes narrowing in a predatory manner.

And your whole body stills.

Baby. He just called you baby.

Eddie uses this moment to his advantage, pouncing on you with a wicked cackle. His hands find your sides, quickly pulling giggle after breathless giggle from you. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, you squeal and begin to thrash beneath him as he continues to torture you with his fingers.

Your attempts to get him back are futile. Eddie is much faster, taking both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. Both of your chests are rising and falling rapidly from the exertion, your faces mere inches apart.

His curls create a dark curtain around you, his eyes flicking down toward your lips. His minty breath washes over you, causing yours to lodge in your throat. You just stare at each other, both of you fighting the urge to close the remaining distance between your mouths.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, “Movie time?”

“Movie time,” you agree.

And just like that, the moment is gone as quickly as it came. Eddie clumsily climbs off you, almost falling off the sofa in the process. His curls bounce as he springs back up, offering a hand to help you sit back up.

“Now my fair maiden, what film dost thou choose?”

He holds up both cases, the choice of movie concealed by the large Family Video logo. You purse your lips, glancing back and forth between the cases as if looking at them longer would somehow reveal the title beneath.

“That one.”

You point to the one in his left hand, and Eddie tosses the other back onto the coffee table. He pops open the plastic case and chuckles before looking up at you.

“Texas Chainsaw it is.” He grins, removing the tape from its case and heading toward the TV.

Eddie crouches down, balancing on the soles of his feet as he loads the tape into the VCR. our eyes can’t help but wander across the expanse of his broad shoulders and down his back. The hem of his shirt rides up ever so slightly as he reaches to switch the tv on, exposing the band of his boxer shorts and the pale skin of his lower back.

“However,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes are warm and full of mischief. “You are not leaving this trailer until you get to experience the cinematic masterpiece that is Ridley Scott’s Alien.”

The playful threat has your whole body warming, feeling thankful when he finally switches off the lamp. The darkness of the room is a welcome reprieve with only his silhouette visible, illuminated by the glow from the TV. He bounds back over and takes the seat beside you.

You allow yourself to sink further into the sofa while Eddie grabs something off the side table. The spark of the lighter ignites the handsome features of his face, and the slight stubble along his jaw. His plush lips carefully wrap around the end of the joint, cheeks hollowing slightly as he inhales deeply.

The sight alone sends a delightful shiver up your spine, shifting your gaze back toward the television as the smoke billows out from between his lips.

“Are you cold?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the sofa in search of the old quilt that was previously thrown over it.

But said quilt had unfortunately fallen behind the sofa in the midst of your scuffle, well beyond his reach now. Eddie leans in closer, cursing softly under his breath as he attempts to locate the missing quilt in the dark. You can feel the warmth radiating from his chest, which causes another shiver to pass through you.

“Maybe a little,” you murmur.

And the male doesn’t complain when you nuzzle yourself further into his side, happily curling his arm around your shoulders. He takes another hit from the joint as the trailers continue to flash across the screen, the upcoming releases now the furthest thing from your mind.

“You want some?” He holds the joint out toward you, blowing some smoke out the corner of his mouth. “No pressure, of course.”

You carefully take it from him, your fingers brushing against his own in the process. Despite your initial reservations, you immediately lift the joint to your lips, feeling his eyes continue to linger on your features. In your nervous haste you inhale a little too quickly, the smoke evading your lungs in sharp fragments that has you immediately coughing it back up.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there, killer,” he teases, gently rubbing your back, the touch a welcome distraction. “You gotta inhale slower.”

He takes the joint back from you, keeping it between his fingers while you continue to cough your lungs up. You’re very thankful he can’t see the way your eyes are watering as another cough racks through your chest.

“Have you ever smoked before?” he asks, only curiosity lacing his tone.

“Um, once,” cough. “In the ninth grade when I stole a cigarette out of my aunt’s purse.”

The memory is sparked, causing a smile to tug at the corner of your mouth. Your Aunt Bev had been visiting from Reno for Christmas, like she did every year. The eccentric woman was always decked out in colorful rhinestones and bright blue eyeshadow, spinning wild tales of her nights out on the strip much to the chagrin of your mother.

But you had never seen her without a trusty pack of Camel Turkish Golds.

So when one of your older cousins claimed you were too much of a prissy pants to join in on their smoke session (aka the infamous cousin walk), you took it upon yourself to swipe one from her purse and hoped she wouldn’t notice. But you received the lecture of a lifetime from her when you came back looking guilty and smelling like nicotine.

As you recount the tale back to him, you purposely leave out the part where you almost threw up in a snowbank because you were coughing so hard. No need to subject him to that visual. And while that experience had you swearing off cigarettes for the rest of your life, that didn’t mean you should deny yourself this one…right?

“Well your aunt’s absolutely right you know,” he says after a moment, that mischievous sparkle back in his eyes. “Cigarettes are terrible for you.”

You go to reach for that pillow again, ready to whack him in the head for good measure but Eddie chucks it across the room before you even have a chance to grab it. The pillow narrowingly misses the tv set by an inch, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“Ah, ah ah!” he tuts, wagging a finger in front of your face. “Don’t mess with the mane, sweetheart.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes fondly before turning your attention back to the movie. But Eddie keeps his gaze on you, admiring how the soft glow highlights the features of your face. Your nose, which scrunches up in the cutest way whenever you’re annoyed. Your gentle eyes, that look at him as if he could do no wrong. And your lips—god, your lips. They’re slightly pouted, shiny with spit.

And Eddie's perverted mind can’t help but start to wander. He wonders how your lips would feel wrapped around him, or if those pretty eyes would roll back when he buried his tongue inside you.

Jesus H. Christ, was it getting hotter in here?

Eddie wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, willing all the blood in his body to stop rushing South.

Popping a boner during a horror flick, that’ll really impress her, idiot.

God, he was too sober for this.

The male quickly tears his gaze away from you, picking up the lighter and relighting the forgotten joint. He doesn’t notice your eyes drifting back toward him, like a moth to a flame.

He inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to curl into his lungs and dull his sexually intrusive thoughts. But he feels you staring, your eyes transfixed on where the smoke billows out from between his lips. He glances at the joint, then back at you. Then Eddie gets an idea, an awful, sinful idea.

He whispers your name as the room is bathed in darkness again, giving him the final push he needs.

“I want to try something…” he mumbles, carefully removing your glasses and placing them on the coffee table. “Do you trust me?”

You nod automatically.

“Then come here,” he says, voice hoarse.

And when you crawl into his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips…

Eddie is a goner.

Miraculously, he manages to keep his composure, despite the way his heart is about to leap out of his chest. You’ve never been this close before, where he can feel the warmth of your thighs seeping into his jeans and smell the faint perfume lingering on your neck.

Even in the dark, he can see that flicker of bashfulness cross over your features, that sudden urge to avoid his heated stare. To tuck in on yourself, to hide away. But to his surprise, you hold his gaze, bold and unwavering when one of his hands falls to rest on your hip. He attempts to soothe you, his thumb circling up and under your shirt.

“Inhale slowly, alright?” he gently reminds you.

His other hand brings that joint back to his full lips, the cherry end igniting brightly as he inhales.

Only this time when he lowers the joint, he leans forward. His lips brush against yours until they part beneath his own, the smoke slithering out and into your awaiting mouth. You inhale slowly—just as he instructed and let the smoke curl in and around your lungs.

And when you breathe out, he’s right there, inhaling the dissipating smoke into his own mouth with a proud smile.

“See? You’re a natural.”

Eddie takes another long drag and leans in again, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. And maybe it’s the look in his eye or the weed beginning to lull your nerves, but you fist the collar of his shirt and pull him into you, crashing your lips together for the second time that evening.

The male barely manages to discard the joint before he’s reeling you back in, tongue gliding over your lower lip and into your awaiting mouth. You taste like Juicy Fruit and a hint of purple palm tree delight, a combination that sets every nerve in his body on fire.

Your fingers wind into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently tugging and earning you a throaty moan. Eddie swears he’s lost it when your sweet moans begin to echo his own. The sound travels straight down, where his cock is straining pathetically against the seam of his jeans.

An uphill battle he’s been fighting since you kissed him in the parking lot of Family Video.

And when you feel that hardness pressing against your inner thigh, it only encourages you to keep going. Giving an experimental roll of your hips that has Eddie’s head lolling back onto the cushions, a choked sound resembling a whine escapes his mouth.

This new position provides you with easier access to his throat, giving you a surge of confidence before your lips find a home there and teeth nip wherever they can find purchase.

Eddie pants as your lips only trail lower, a grunt of your name mixes with a slew of curses when you suck a large bruise onto the base of his throat. Your lips make an audible pop when they detach from his skin and you lean back to assess the damage with a satisfied grin. He looks beautifully wrecked, lips swollen and eyes glossy.

You trace over the blossoming shades of red and purple on his neck with your fingertips, humming softly when you feel a shiver pass through him.

“My turn,” he insists, gently tipping your head back.

When he leans forward, lips brushing against your collarbone, he can almost taste the spiked punch from earlier. A bitter, yet sugary sweet flavor that has him groaning low in his throat. The sound reverberates through your chest and has your hips grinding harder against his own.

The fabric of your panties are completely soaked, making a mess on the front of his jeans with each frantic buck of your hips. His fingers begin to trail lower, sneaking under your skirt and grazing over the elastic of your panties. Feeling emboldened, you take his wrist, pressing the heel of palm against your center.

“Oh shit,” he groans, fingers circling up and over your aching core. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart.”

You can only manage a soft whine in response, allowing him to guide your head back down to capture your lips together.

An abrupt knock sounds just as a blood curdling scream erupts from the television. Both noises pull you apart with a sudden start, which has you nearly falling backwards off his lap and onto the floor below. But Eddie keeps a steady grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he huffs out a breath of frustration.

“Pizza’s here.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld @scarlet-bitch @thecreelhouse @vamp-bunny @notwantingtoadult @keeksandgigz @avobabe87 @kellsck @definitionwanderlust @ainelantv @bring-it-on-back

#the freak writes 🫧#my series: let’s go- don’t wait 🫧#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson series

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writingoddess1125 · 4 months ago

Text

Relationship Weirdness

Kurt Wagner x GN Reader Headcanon

Funny and Silly established relationship

Masterlist

This Link leads to Kurt Wagner- Or does it???

THE NICKNAME DILEMMA

• Kurt has a Love, Hate relationship with the seemingly endless stream of nicknames you seemed to have for him and how you constantly

• Sure he had ones for you, but all classic in affection!

• Like Schatz aka his treasure, or Engel! He loves calling you Engel, Liebling also, Sweetie too in English

• However from you he does get the 'Love' Or 'Babe' but also he gets-

• 'Fuzzy Butt!', 'Blueberry', 'Sugar Booger-'

• Some he was fairly sure one was a drug inudendos as well!

"Schatz- What is will the constant changing nicknames?" He ask you one day after you kiss his cheek and weirdly called him 'Sugar Booger'

"Do you not like them?" You ask, he shakes his head.

"Nein, I like them. It's just- Isn't that a slang? For a bad thing?" He questioned, watching a weird smile goes across your face as you suddently snort up his arm like you'd done a line off him.

"Yes- You my Blue Cocaine"

He stared at you with a deadpan stare, trying to hold back his laughs as he covers his face with his hands.

You're so fucking weird-

PHYSICAL AFFECTION FUCKERY

• Kurt's tail has a mind of its own especially with you, so more often then not it will be wrapped around you, sliding up and down your back, sliding across your thighs or trying to find its way into your hands.

• He never notices until you reciprocate the affection, often leaving to him being a blushing mess when you run your fingers up the velvet like tail-

• He is naturally very physically affectionate so will cuddle you or lean against you most times.

• Sitting on the couch? Kurt will slide in right next to you. Making dinner? He will lean his weight on your back and look to see what you're making- Personal Space doesn't exist

• While Kurt is Cuddly, You are grabby-

• His tail? His fluffy little ears? His sides? All fair game!

• Seeing two fuzzy asscheeks in the shower, you see how the hair sort of swirls like a cowlick-

• You can't help but touch them-

• Earning a loud surprised noise from Kurt as he turns to look at you quite literally messing with the hair on his ass

"Really?-"

THE BEARD ERA!

• Kurt is very feline like in nature and the facial hair adds to this as well it seems.

• He will like to rub his neck and cheek against you, sometimes giving a growl/rumble as he does so.

• You can protest all you want but he will just give you an evil smile and rub his cheek against yours harder before teleporting away to avoid the consequences for giving you mild rug burn on your cheek!

• When Kurt's beard starts growing thicker he gets some ingrowns on the part were his neck meets his head so you have to open pin him to get at them-

"Stop being a big baby! It's deep!" You yell as you pin your boyfriend, watching him squirm under you in protest as you get the tweezers closer to the series of bumps.

"NEIN! LASS EN IN RUHE!" He screamed as you get the tweezers to get a big ingrown that protruded from his skin.

"AHHHHHH!!!"

THE FOOD FIASCO

• Has very weird eating habits- You often forget he was raised in a circus in Germany so he eats like it too.

• AKA Hawaii Toast-

• Your mortal enemy and the thing that you are willing the kick box over in terms of the kitchen area. The first time you saw Kurt make it, you almost sobbed at this atrocity towards both Hawaii, Italy, Bread and maybe Humanity

• "What the fuck is that!?" You almost cry out as you see the monstrosity on the counter.

"Hawaii Toast-" Kurt says calmly as he butters bread, adds ham, a ring of pineapple and some kraft cheese on top before chucking it into the toaster oven while grabbing some ketchup-

You stare at him in horror as he makes direct eye contact with you and takes a bite of this- monstrosity

• He does know how to cook luckily even if he makes Hawaii Toast for himself- Him learning recipes from your culture and you learning from his. As well as taking turns with kitchen duty!

• For Drinks- Kurt is the Master! He can open any bottle, he can make the perfect pours! He knows the exact drink you'd like off the top of his head

"You're a fucking Wizard Blue-"

You say in awe as you watch Kurt make you a drink calmly, raising a brow as he opens the beer bottle with his tail like nothing.

"I know~"

#x reader #nightcrawler x reader #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x #kurt wagner #kurt wagner x reader #x men x reader #x men 97 #xmen x reader #xmen imagine #x men #x gn reader

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nohoney · 1 year ago

Text

“What’s my favorite bread?” You ask your boyfriend during early morning cuddles. It’s warm inside the blanket and Bakugou’s hand is idly petting your hair.

“Croissants. Specifically almond and only from that bakery that’s 20 minutes from the house.” Bakugou answers without a beat of hesitation. “That and brioche. French bread only when you wanna have that gross balsamic dip.”

“How do I like my tea?” You fire off another question, waiting for him to see if he’ll get it right.

“Depends on the tea. Green tea, you’ll only do lemon and honey. Early grey and black tea, a little bit of vanilla creamer and some sugar. Oolong tea, you’ll have it plain.” Once again Bakugou answers your question without fumbling over any of his words.

It makes your heart fond over him but you still want to ask more questions. “What’s my favorite kind of chair?”

“Rocking. Baby, what’s with all the questions?” Bakugou asks gruffly but with no particular annoyance in his voice either. His hand still pets over your head and his eyes look up to the ceiling. Sunshine pours through the window and he sees particles of dust float in the air. “Feels like you’re testing me or somethin’ about if I know you.”

You shrug your shoulders and answer him, “Just wanna see if you pay attention to the things I like. Y’know the last guy I was with, I was with him for more than six months and he didn’t remember when my birthday was even though his and mine were literally a week apart. And then one time he got me flowers and he got me the ones that literally break me out in a rash even though I said a million times what to never get me.”

Bakugou’s hand stops petting your head and he starts to sit up in bed. You follow his movement, sitting back a little and finding the expression on your boyfriend’s face amusing. “What exactly did this loser know about you then? Since he was forgetting all the important things.”

“He knew my go to order for McDonald’s.” You answer as you pull your knees up to your chest and pull the blanket more towards you to cover yourself. “Medium fries and ten pieces nuggets.”

“That’s wrong because it’s actually large fries and twenty piece nuggets.” Bakugou corrects you and you laugh a little knowing that he got you. “And everyone likes nuggets and fries from McDonald’s, that’s hardly anything intimate.”

It makes you laugh that he calls you out but for Bakugou, he frowns a little that you had wasted your time with a guy that didn’t bother to know you at all. He leans back against the headboard and asks you, “What about me? How do I take my coffee?”

“At the agency, you’ll just have plain black coffee. When you go to coffee shops though, you’ll have a dirty chai with soy milk.” You answer him, remembering the first time you and him had coffee together.

He nods his head and asks, “What’s my least favorite vegetable?”

“Brussels sprouts. They’re basically mini cabbages and you hate cabbage too.” The answer comes out easily and as fast as he answered you too.

“Books? What do I like?” He asks, thinking this one might trip you up.

“Sci-fi books, but I know that you’re a sucker for classics literature. I see the Jane Austen books on your shelf.” You tell him.

Bakugou nods his head, equally impressed with your knowledge about him. Then he shoots back, “What’s my McDonald’s order?”

“Spicy deluxe McCrispy with two orders of medium fries. Bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit with three hash browns when you’re hungover.”

He smiles at you, reaching his hand out to ruffle your hair and chuckling when you smack his hand away. “I could take all this info and leak it, you know? Pro Hero Dynamight’s McDonald’s order: this is what he eats!” You laugh at your stupid joke, “Imagine the brand deal that comes your way.”

“First of all, that’s only for you to know.” Bakugou tuts and starts to leave the bed, reaching down onto the floor for his underwear he flung off his body when the two of you got frisky last night, “Second, the last guy you were with was a dipshit for not learning anything about you.”

“Yeah well, I was an even bigger idiot for staying with him for more than half a year.” You sigh as you also move to leave the bed as well. Bakugou’s shirt is found right on your side of the bed so you end up wearing it instead of finding your own sleeping top you intended to sleep in the night before.

Bakugou snorts and you round your way up over to him, giving him a big smile and bumping your hip against him, “Good thing I traded up.”

He leans down to kiss you, smiling into the kiss and not even bothering to hide how you stroked his ego just a little bit.

“My favorite breakfast?” You ask him,

“Aside from my dick?” Bakugou pretends to be hurt when you punch his arm before giving the correct answer, “Overnight oats and waffles.”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff

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dragonridernoobie · 6 months ago

Note

Glad to see a undertale au author still up and running.

Thoughts on writing a feral underfell bitty sans (possibly abandoned, escaped from a bad place, neglected? Who knows) the reader finds injured and patches them up + befriends them?

Some bitty fics include feral bitties travelling together, like a horror or classic sans with a fell.

Basically, go nuts, no strict requests. Interpret it how ever you like :)

Hope you like this request, idk just enjoying the fandom.

Enjoy the rest of your day/night ^-^

I am so happy to do this! It reminded me of a picture I found on Pinterest that I wanted to adopted fell san bitty. Here is the picture. Also, I'm gonna do it with fell and horror since they where abandon for there looks and attitude.

To anyone else reading this: You will adopt him, and if you don't, I will find out where you live and kill you. Then I'm gonna bring you're ass back from hell and make you write a sorry letter to a fictional character.

Enjoy <3

FellSansBitty X Reader X HorrorSansBitty

It was just a normal day in Ebbot city. All you wanted to do was get a coffee and some treats but mother nature decided that you where gonna deal with nature and threw the biggest Strom the city has seen.

You where currently running down the street, you're jacket over you're head to stop getting wet.

While on you're way back home, you ran by a alley you passed a million times. Though, this time was different. You heard crying. You stopped and tried to listen over the heavey thunder and rain but you couldn't.

When you got closer, you where able to hear it clearer. When a loud thundering boom made it's present, you heard a whimper. When you followed the noise, you came across a wet, broken down box. On the front it said "bitty for sale." There were numbers also scratched out.

25$, 15$, 5$, and free. You looked inside and you saw a bitty. Bittys where interduced to human kind when monsters arrived above ground.

Humans took them quickly and made more of them. They are now used for therapy, friends, pets, and teatchers for the disabled.

Though there were times when bittys did stuff they were not meant to do. Like bitting, talking back, and actually running away from their owners. People called then "broken bittys."

When that stuff happened, people would take them and dust them or put them down in human words. You did not believe in that way since it was wrong, and living things should have free will.

So when you opened the soggy broken box open, you came face to face with the bitty. It looked up at you, scared but also hissed at you in fear.

You used your best smoothing voice to calm into bitty and reach your hand out. Showing it that it can get on your hand if it wants.

When another loud thundering boom was heard, it quickly grabbed you're hand and you slowly raised it up.

Now that it was in your hand, you quickly brought it underneth your jacket and got a closer look at it

It looked like....

FellSanBitty

It looked like a little cherry. It had a big furry black and yellow jacket and shorts.

It had red eyelights.

It looked at you while you stood up and quickly ran to you're house.

Once you reached you're house, you where quick to grab a towel and help the bitty dry off.

It grumble and snapped at you, saying it can do it it's delf

Once it was dru, you interduce youreself. "Hi, my name is (Y/N). What's you're name?"

"....sans...but I like being called red...."

You nod and ask him if he wants food.

You make him some grilled cheese and give it to him.

He complains that the grilled cheese was too cheesy, but he was lying that he hated it since he was eating it faster, then he could chew it.

You had to tell him a few times to slow down.

While he eats, you asked him why he was in that box.

Red stopped eating and looked at the ground.

"No one wants a mean looking bitty..."

Obviously you don't like that so you pet his head and say to him. "I don't think you look mean looking. I think you look tough."

Red looks at you surpised. He looked at you like you were joking, but how you were petting him, you wernt joking.

He blushes and pushes you're hand away.

"I ain't cute."

You chuckle and nod. "Of corse you're not."

"I said I ain't fuckin cute! Now stop fucking petting me!"

You guys are gonna have a instresting relationship.

Pretend that's you're hand.

HorrorSansBitty

When you got a better look at the bitty in you're hand, it looked hurt.

It had a hole in its head, torn up clothes, and seemed to be shaking from the cold.

You held it aginst youreself and ran home.

Once home, you quickly grabbed a towl and help it dry it off, being mindful of its hole in the head.

Once dry, you asked him for a name.

"......sans......but people call me horror."

You nod and ask if he wants some grilled cheese.

His eyes seem to shine at the sound of food and quickly nods.

You make some and give it to him.

You watch him devour the grilled cheese in seconds.

You had to tell him to slow down.

Once he was done eating, you asked the hardest question.

"Why where you in that box?"

Horror stopped eating the crumbs and looked down

"No one wants a broken looking bitty."

You're hurt by his words but after a bit, you take 2 fingers and pet his good side of his skull.

He immediately looked at you surpised but smile and purred.

You just got a skeloton cat bitty.

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zvdvdlvr · 6 months ago

Text

to the heart

cred: @/cafekitsune

Being John’s wifewho is a badass cook and finally meets the team!!

Your mother always said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Being married to the one and only John Price could only further confirm her statement.

John was a military captain- forming, training, and leading men and women into missions that could very well take their lives. As well as gain muscle and a family, military folk also gained an iron stomach. At least in John’s case.

The way he casually scooped up half the lasgma in the big pan made you wonder how he had survived off of packaged meals. John just shoveled down mouthful by mouthful as you eargerly awaited his reaction. Making something John wouldn’t like is borderline impossible, but you wanted to make only the best for the man that protected you and your loved ones in ways you couldn’t even imagine.

When John finally asked you if you’d be open to meeting the men he unofficially adopted, you were immediately filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Your husband had refrained from the gory details of the missions he preformed but entertained you with stories of his team goofing off or doing something impressive (John was more proud of those men then he let on and you could tell). He had told you that the way he had described your cooking had the men salivating.

You had decided to make a classic meal on the evening they were to dine with you. A simple but tasty spaghetti and meatballs dish. For the side- recipe you’d seen from Instagram- you cooked up a dozen fluffy pull-apart garlic/cheese/butter muffins (all dishes were John approved, of course, he’s eaten everything you’ve made). You debated a salad, but figured you’d just offer instead of set out a bowl in case they didn’t want any lettuce or anything.

John pulled you out of the kitchen when he heard the sound of an engine come closer to your secluded country-side home. “They already love you with the way I talk about you, love. Don’t worry your pretty little head,” he murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to your forhead as he les you out to the porch.

Eventually you found out John was exactly right. You greeted everyone with a hug- which was surprising to you that Simon seemed to melt into you like he hadn’t felt a good hug in years because, according to the stories John told you, Simon was anti-touch. Kyle was a sweet young man and you could tell how mich he admired John. Johnny was a handful, you observed. He immediately started taking cracks at Simon after he pulled away from the bone-breaking hug he gave you and recieved a sharp punch to the shoulder.

“Plates and bowls are right there. Silverware’s on the table,” you said, gesturing to the respective items. “Come on, J,” you said, urging your husband up from his spot at the table.

John carried your plate and his in one hand and weapped his hand around your waist with the other. “Are you doing alright so far, love?”

You nodded with a bright smile. You easily got along with John’s teammates and they seemed to get along with you. And you could only hope that they liked the food you made.

Luckily for you, though, you didn’t have to wait long for your answer.

You were sitting down in your seat beside John when you heard a noise that sounded like a gasp and a whimper.

Two spots to your left, the fork in Johnny’s hands shook as he chewed.

“Is- Are you okay?” You asked skeptically. You’d avoided using any foods you’d known they were allergic to, so what was the problem? Did he not like it? Did the spaghetti go bad? Were the meatballs moldy? Did you add the wrong spices to the pull-apart muffins?

“Lass… I need you to send me ma this recipe. I don’t- this is- serve this at my funeral, cap, bury me in this,” he babbled as he shoved forkfuls of noodles into his mouth.

You breathed a sigh of relief, incredibly grateful for Johnny’s compliment and reaction. You looked at Simon and Kyle. To your surprise they too practically licked their playe xlean before bouncing back up to get an even bigger heap of spaghetti.

John watched you through moist eyes and soft smile. The way you fawned over his team like a mother duckling made his heart race in ways he didn’t know was possible for a man his age. He didn’t have to tell you how much he cared for Simon, Kyle, and Johnny. You knew because you always knew- even when John couldn’t form the words to say anything. Seeing you all interact made his heart swell. John felt complete; pure, even. At times he wasn’t sure if he deserved this small but solid family, but he knew he would fight tooth and nail to protect each and every one of you.

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lev1hei1chou · 7 months ago

Text

Cafe Drama

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: Gojo loves drama when he’s not the center of it Masterlist

"BABE, YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED!"

You almost dropped your phone. Not a hello, not even a 'Hey, how are you?' Just Gojo, screaming into the phone, voice filled with eagerness.

"Satoru, what—"

"So I was on this mission, right?" he interrupts, not bothering to wait for you response. "And I decided to take a break at this cute little cafe. You know the type, rustic charm, overpriced lattes, the works."

"Uh-huh," You reply, already grinning because you know this is going to be good.

"Okay, so I’m sitting there, minding my own business, trying to decide between a macchiato and a cappuccino—very important stuff, obviously—when suddenly, BAM! The couple at the table next to me starts arguing."

You can almost see his eyes sparkling with glee as he recounts this. Gojo loves drama when he’s not the center of it.

"So, naturally, I tune in. It’s like my own private soap opera. The guy’s all like, 'I can’t believe you did that!' and she’s like, 'Well, maybe if you paid more attention to me instead of your stupid phone!' Classic stuff. Anyway, they’re getting louder and louder, and I’m just sitting there, sipping my coffee, trying not to laugh."

"Of course you were," You chuckle, shaking your head. "You love a good train wreck."

"Exactly! But it gets better. The guy stands up, and I think he’s going to storm out, but no. He leans in, gets all serious, and says, 'You’re being irrational.' Which, by the way, never helps. She stands up too, and I’m like, 'Oh boy, here we go.' She picks up her glass of juice—orange, if you’re wondering—and I’m thinking, 'No, she wouldn’t.' But she did. SHE DID, BABE!"

"She threw the juice?"

"Right in his face! Full-on, slow-motion movie style. It was beautiful. Juice everywhere. The guy’s just standing there, dripping, looking like a soggy, defeated puppy. And the whole cafe goes silent."

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, picturing the scene in your head. "Did anyone say anything?"

"Oh, the barista tried to act professional, but you could tell she was dying inside. Everyone’s just staring, and the guy, poor guy, he wipes his face and says, 'You know what? I don’t need this.' And then he slips on the juice! He didn’t fall, but it was close. Very close. He regained his dignity just enough to leave the cafe without actually hitting the floor."

You're laughing so hard now, with tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "Did you do anything? Or just watch?"

"Me? Oh, I applauded."

"No you didn’t!"

"I did! How could I not? It was a stellar performance. I gave her a standing ovation. I think she appreciated it, too. She bowed before storming out. Quite the exit. Ten out of ten."

You could barely breathe. "Only you, Gojo, would turn someone’s breakup into your own personal entertainment."

"Hey, I’m just here to enjoy the show life puts on for me. And to share it with you, of course. How’s your day going? Any juice-throwing incidents I should know about?"

"Sadly, no. My day has been quite boring compared to yours. Just paperwork and a slightly burnt grilled cheese."

"Tragic. I’ll have to take you to that cafe sometime. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see round two."

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll pass on the drama. But thank you for the update, babe. You always know how to make my day."

"Anything for you, babe. Now, tell me more about this grilled cheese situation. Burnt, you say? Sounds like a crisis."

You giggled, settling back into the couch, feeling the warmth of his ridiculous story still lingering. "Well, it started with the toaster oven malfunctioning..."

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redflagshipwriter · 11 months ago

Text

Nest Swap ch 1

Little Tim wakes up in big Tim's apartment.

The idea came from this chain started by @ew-selfish-art and the contribution by @faeriekit

(repost of something that's currently just in a reblog chain)

His first observation was that this wasn't his house.

Tim was new to detecting, but he thought that was a pretty dang salient observation.

He didn't actually remember going to sleep. It didn't feel like he woke up here, either. He just suddenly noticed he was sitting somewhere he'd never been in his whole 9 years of life.

Very weird! Pretty neat, though.

Tim prowled around in his socked feet in total silence, investigating by the little light that came in through mostly shut curtains. He wasn't in his own clothes, which was kind of scary. He had to keep hiking up his sweatpants to keep them on, and he rolled down his socks three times to tighten them up. At least the floors didn't creak at all, even when he stepped on the dark wood panels in between dark red rugs. It made him feel more secure to move around quietly.

He was in an apartment that seemed relatively expensive but new, no antiques or family heirlooms. It was an open plan, with floating stairs and a white sofa. It was also sterile, as if no one really lived in it. It was clean in the same un-lived in way his house was. Someone professionally cleaned this apartment.

Tim was really, really careful not to make any mess.

Theory one: he had been kidnapped. It seemed pretty sound. He went to bed at home, and he woke up sitting on a strange sofa. Danger alarms were going off.

He looked around for a house phone to call for help. There was none. Troubling.

On the other hand, Tim opened the apartment door to the hallway and stuck his head out. He could see sunlight coming in through the huge lobby windows.

…Okay. He was going to consider that a viable escape route. He glanced at the side of the door where there was a pair of shoes. They were big but he could probably use them in a pinch.

So. He could just walk out at any time. He frowned. That wasn't very good kidnapping practice. He would plan a much better restraint system. Like, a rope would be a good place to start, or maybe breaking the little bones in his feet?

“This is so disappointing,” Tim muttered to himself. “I'm not even being ransomed?”

Just… Some effort would be nice.

Hmm. He didn't want to believe anyone that incompetent had managed to transport him into Gotham proper from Bristol while he slept. So. Tim formally recategorized his kidnapping theory to a suspected no.

It was undeniable that he'd been moved in his sleep, which was pretty classic. But the counter evidence? The new location looked pretty easy to escape, if he was willing to get his socks dirty outside.

Conclusion: This probably wasn't a conventional kidnapping. What else was there?

Theory two: he hit his head or fell asleep while he was out birdwatching, and some good person took them into their house to keep him safe.

That neatly explained why he was in the actual city. Tim ran his fingers through his hair looking for a bump. He wasn't sure if he found one or not. Maybe his head was just kind of oddly shaped. Troubling. Maybe he should go to the doctor about that.

It would have been helpful information either way if there had been another human being around to talk to.

There were signs that someone lived here. Tim poked around in the closet and in the fridge, building a mental profile for the resident.

One person lived here, and they were clearly kind of a loser because they had no photos of friends or family up. The jacket hanging by the door told Tim they were either an average sized woman or a small man. They couldn't cook at all, which was excellent because that meant there was a really great variety of ready to eat food. Tim snacked on string cheese and a can of soda while he flipped through the books on the shelves. He pulled a couple off to check for secret compartments. Nope. Just books.

“Boring,” Tim said to himself.

They were all books about things like business and management. It was the type of self-aggrandizing garbage that his parents made fun of: memoirs that you knew damn well that person hadn't written, manifestos on the virtues of hard work from someone born into the financial elite, and how-to's directed at an audience who had no personal shame.

Momentarily, he entertained the fantasy that he had been kidnapped by someone who was going to mold him into the ideal Drake Industries CEO, someone who wouldn't jet off across the world to follow a passion. The suspects were the entire board of directors.

Kidnapped theory redux: the Board of Directors did it. Evidence?

Tim sat down and made a chart for his thoughts, quantifying how much each person had been inconvenienced by his parents’ absence in the last fiscal year. He concluded that Mr. Morrison might hate his parents enough to do it, but the projected timeline was beyond his scope. Tim didn't think he had it in him to plan that far out.

So, the apartment owner was just a boring person. Tim made a note. Theory two was looking pretty good. The person who lived here kind of sucked at life but they were probably really nice.

Something started beeping. That was interesting. He followed it to the bedroom that he hadn't been brave enough to poke around yet. There was a weird tablet on the bedside table. He picked it up and it unlocked automatically. Wow, the security was so bad. He felt embarrassed on behalf of the absent apartment owner.

The screen showed an email from someone called Tamara Fox.

“Tim, can you get me the numbers from the acquisition in Peru?”

He blinked at it. Was the person who lived here also named Tim? Surely she wasn't actually asking him. He looked around uncertainly.

There was still no one else. The blinking display on the alarm clock told him that it was half past noon, and no one else was in the apartment.

…. poor Tamara probably really needed that information, if she was asking for it in the middle of the workday. Tim sat down on the bed and started putting together context clothes to figure out what Miss Fox was talking about. Her email signature had her title at Wayne industries listed, so that was a pretty big clue. He had access to a team calendar that showed meetings and ongoing projects, which he used to narrow it down.

When he figured it out, he sent her back an email and sat back in satisfaction. A moment later, he realized that the email account had an attached auto signature. It claimed to be Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises.

What.

He stopped breathing and momentarily considered that he had traveled to the future and this was really his apartment, but the name was impossible. There was no way he was going to marry either one of the Waynes. Bruce and Dick were kind of old. Tim wrinkled his nose at the thought. Gross.

So, no. He wasn't Tim Drake-Wayne. “...It must be an inside joke,” Tim decided. “It seems really unprofessional.”

Tim was a little disappointed that he wasn't the boss of everyone, but at least he wasn't in a troubling marriage with a huge age difference. He had another cheese stick about it and the feeling went away. Ah, good. Maybe that was how Mom dealt with Drake Industries: she distracted herself until she didn't feel bad about putting it on the back burner. It was a good tactic. He'd need more cheese sticks. He made a mental note to figure out how to replace these ones.

He found a loose blanket on a side chair and tied it around his shoulders, because the apartment was pretty chilly.

The email dinged again. Tim dragged his blanket cape back into the bedroom and stared at the tablet, lost in thought.

He didn't mean to be annoying. He really didn't. He knew people hated it when you got in their stuff. But the thing was: this guy got a lot of emails. And he wasn't here to answer them, which was pretty rude of him, honestly. It seemed like his job needed him a lot.

Maybe when he got back, he would be mad at Tim for looking at his stuff.

On the other hand, maybe he would appreciate it. Tim told himself that it would be fine, and he manned that email account until the end of business hours at 5:00 p.m. Then he gave a luxurious stretch and went to find something interesting in the freezer that he could microwave.

His feelings about the email account had changed, after the hours spent together. It was their mutual email account now. Tim was willing to fight about it. He was emotionally attached to that email. People asked him all sorts of questions there, and he got to answer. It was pretty fun.

The apartment looked a little friendlier in the early evening light. He crossed it again and pushed a chair up against the deep freezer so that he could root around inside.

“Omigod, lasagne!” Tim ripped the package open in his excitement. Today was the best. He liked this place. Maybe he'd get to stay there when the owner came back to look at their shared email account.

While the lasagne heated, he went back to checking for fake books on the shelf. They were all disappointments. He did finally notice that there were pets here.

“I should feed you,” Tim told the fish, because he was really fixing this guy's life. The fish didn't pay him any attention. The microwave beeped completion, so he went back and got his lasagne. He held it in one hand and ate while he searched for fish food. When he found it, he stuck his fork in the lasagne to free up a hand and shook flakes into the water.

A secret compartment in the floor opened up.

Tim froze. He took a step back. He looked around the apartment, as if someone was going to materialize.

“…I might as well go see,” he told himself. “They're already gonna be mad that I answered our email.”

Down he went.

#red nest swap #dc fanfic #tim drake #tim drake deaged

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strawberrynightmare · 1 year ago

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Mikey, Mitsuya, Koko & Izana with foodie s/o

Content warning: Just Izana being a little bit... extreme

Koko

~It all started when he took you birthday shopping. The two of you went to a mall and he told you to take anything you want and not look at the price, to which you hesitantly agreed. He expected to be dragged into a clothing or electronics shop. Whatever you wanted; jackets, shoes, bags, perfumes, headphones, games, or maybe, once you get more confident, a phone, tablet, laptop? Or even a tv?

~He got so lost in his fantasies it took him a few minutes to comprehend your current whereabouts.

~...A grocery store.

~Well, that’s fine. It’s completely reasonable that you’d want to do groceries. Duties first, pleasures second. Although he had to assure you that he’s more than happy to pay for your overflowing shopping cart full of sweets, snacks, cheese and other stuff. He didn’t let you carry everything yourself, either. He insisted he carries at least 3/4 of them.

~Then the two of you went to get pizza. For that, he paid without even asking. Of course, it wouldn’t be good to shop hungry. And then a sweet dessert - ice cream!

~And when he thought that this is where the actual shopping trip starts, you said that you were done and thanked him. He looked at you as if you were insane. Surely, you must have been joking.

~But instead of saying “just kidding”, you asked him if there’s anywhere he wants to go. This man was so flabbergasted that he just shook his head and silently walked you home.

~It didn’t take him long to accept his fate and change his strategy, though.

~Instead of more “classic” gifts, he began to buy you food. And rather than to the shopping malls, he took you to some of the most recommended restaurants. Pretty chill about it too. Although only for as long as he gets to pay. He can get petty when you don’t let him. The two of you literally race to the checkpoint

~And no, you are not visiting McDonald's, KFC or such things. He’s willing to (respectfully) argue with you about that. Why would you even look at their trash-quality food, when he’s more than willing to pay for something healthier and tastier? *proceeds to wave his credit card in front of your face until you give up*

~If there’s a specific food you crave out of the blue, all you have to do is text him. He’ll order it for you. Hell, he’ll even order anything he sees advertised on the internet that he thought you might like, so don’t get surprised when you get random parcels delivered to your door.

~If you’re worried about your eating habits, he’ll suggest visiting a dietician and will even accompany you there. Won’t force you or stick his nose into your eating habits unless it’s clearly dangerous for your health, though. Most of the time he just supports every decision you make.

~Literally the definition of “Eat whatever you want, I can pay.”

Izana

~Okay this guy 100% loves to watch you eat. You can’t convince me otherwise.

~Like, imagine you’re casually enjoying your waffles and he sits right in front of you, staring at you, drilling holes into your soul with his gaze. Like this ◉_◉. He doesn’t even order anything for himself no matter how many times you ask him if he’s sure that he’s not hungry.

~Your boyfriend literally can get high on dopamine from watching you eat something you like. He doesn’t get bored. Each time the two of you meet, he just kinda gives you some kind of a snack and at this point, you don’t even question it, cause he’s gonna do it either way. The two of you start talking, he automatically extends his hand with a snack towards you and you automatically take it without missing a beat.

~The moment you split your food in half and offered it to him, he was so moved. In his mind, he swore to protect you forever. I’ve seen memes about girlfriends saying they don’t want anything to eat and then eat their boyfriend’s food. Which kind of resembles him because he’ll only eat if it’s from your plate. Can’t get his own for his life.

~I can clearly imagine a scenario where a gang fight occurs and all of the enemies get heavily beaten up except for that one guy who’s captured at the very beginning and then, at the end, they let him go with no more than a scratch, simply because he’s the son of the owner of your favourite sushi restaurant.

~At the same time, imagine what happens to the people whose food you dislike. Without a blink, he’d watch you eat something, and instead of the usual bliss he sees on your face, you frown and begin to slow down before hesitantly putting down the eating utensils. He’d ask you if anything’s wrong and after you reply that this dish is not really to your liking, he’d just smile and offer that you eat somewhere else. Then, the next day, you heard in the news that the very same restaurant burned to ashes during the night. The cause of the fire was unknown.

~Another time, he accidentally saw you out in the town with a friend. He just happened to be nearby and considered saying hello when he heard your friend complaining about you eating way too much. You didn’t seem to take it seriously, but a dark glint in his eyes appeared at that time.

~”I never had a problem with how much they eat…”

~Hopefully, you weren’t very close with that friend (._.)

~Lowkey the devil on your shoulder. He only means good, but he never really tells you no. If you’re thinking about whether to get something to eat, you don’t even have to look at him to know his advice. And if you can’t decide between two things, he’ll just get you both no big deal. Even if he’s aware that it might not be the best for you, it’s not like an additional portion of ice cream will harm you, right?

~He’ll even go as far as to rob a grocery store with his gang to get you a good supply of snacks. You might want to establish some boundaries with him. Just saying.

~Overall, wants the best, but tends to take things to the extremes.

Mitsuya

~Say no more.

~Actually, he’d cook for you almost each time you come to visit him even before he learns about your fondness for good food. And when he does? You got yourself a personal chef and no amount of insisting and resisting will get you out of this.

~Legit gets offended if you refuse to let him make you food and suggest eating in the town instead.

“Haaa? You’d rather pay for some stranger’s stuff rather than eat what your boyfriend prepared for you with love?”

~And it doesn’t matter that you only have the best intentions in mind and you don’t want to overwork him. He’s having none of that. If you really insist that you want to eat at some restaurant or worse- a fast food restaurant (!) he has no power to stop you. He’ll go with you, but he’ll be silent most of the time and will be glaring at you as you eat.

“I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.”

~But the moment you finally break, and promise to always choose his food over others, he’s momentarily back to himself, apologising and cuddling the hell out of you. Overbearing, but he does it out of care.

~That’s where it ends though. He invites you to eat dinner with him every few days and sometimes makes you snacks, but the rest is up to you. He doesn’t really stick his nose into your eating habits. And he doesn’t forbid you from eating in restaurants either. He’ll straight out encourage you to try out new places, but that’s only as long as he’s not able to cook for you himself, probably due to lack of time.

~If he sees some occasional food trucks or other kinds of time-limited food stalls, he’s absolutely getting you stuff from there. He’ll probably get a little bit of everything so that the two of you can go back there and eat whatever you liked the most.

~And if he sees someone bothering you for your eating habits, he won’t hesitate to pull them aside and scold them or even start a fight if necessary.

~Will ask his friends and fellow gang members if they’ve been to any good restaurants/bars/cafes/food stalls or anything recently so that he can take you there later.

~Also, will try out even more new recipes and even has a little notebook where he writes down your favourite ones. Then, on some grand dates like anniversaries, your birthday or valentines, he’ll prepare little feasts entirely made out of your favourites.

~HOLD HIM FROM BEHIND AS HE COOKS. The first time you did it he froze and started blushing like crazy. He’d pin you to the wall and make out with you if he didn’t have milk on the stove.

~From there on, he usually demands that you do it each time you ask if he needs any help or feel guilty with how much effort he puts in for you. This is it, this is the payment. Bonus points if you nuzzle your face into his shoulder. It’s his favourite thing to make him relax.

~Compliment his cooking and he’ll be genuinely thrown off. It’s something which always manages to make his mind all hazy and the butterflies in his stomach spring to life. Don’t let him brush it off! Keep going to witness the great mitsuya takashi embarrassed and shy.

~All in all, LET HIM COOK

Mikey

I came up w/ this one while taking a shit

~I can literally see a whole love story forming there.

~Imagine you decided on a study break, went to some shop nearby and bought some snacks. Let’s say, a croissant or two. A full ass croissant with chocolate inside and stuff. And you go to the park to enjoy it. It’s late afternoon, you find a bench hidden in the shadow of some old maple and bon appetit!

~You were halfway in, when you noticed that someone sat at the opposite side of the bench. You glanced that way and saw a blonde who looked to be about your age. He was also eating, but it was dorayaki. Without thinking much about it, your attention shifted back to your treat. After you were done, you quietly left.

~Then, a whole week later, it was also around that time that you decided to have some air, went to the same store and this time, bought a box of cookies. Once again, you ventured into the park and soon noticed that the bench you occupied last time was once again empty. So you sat there and enjoyed your break.

~And again, the very same blonde appeared and sat nearby but with a different snack.

You were suddenly pulled out of your blissful state by the stranger’s voice.

“Can I have one cookie?” You turned to look at him. “I’ll give you pocky in exchange,” he noticed the slight surprise on your face and sent you a reassuring smile. “Is it too sudden? Sorry, but they just smell so good. Seriously, what flavour is this?”

“I think it’s because of the orange filling,“ you extended the box towards him as he moved closer to you. He took one cookie and offered you his pocky.

“Thank you! Now try this, it’s green tea flavoured.”

“Nice, thanks.”

~No more words were spoken and as you finished, you simply said your goodbye and left. But the next time you went there, he was on the bench already. When he noticed you, he waved you in greeting and another exchange took place, this time, you also had a little small talk. Then, the same situation kept repeating until the two of you sat right next to each other and chatted casually.

~Every few days, you headed to the bench, hoping to see him there. But after some time, it didn’t simply end on the bench hangouts. He’d ask you to go with him to that cafe you spoke so fondly about. Or the ramen restaurant he recommended.

~As you began to spend more time together, you exchanged numbers, began to text each other and even developed feelings. None of you could point out the exact time when you fell in love. It just felt so right when you were together, you soon began to officially date.

~Which brings us to this point. Seriously, you’re like twin souls. It is now a common occurrence for the two of you to exchange food or even steal each other’s. Literally imagine you and a few of his friends hanging out at his place and he looks through his drawers frowning for a while and finally asks “who took my limited edition strawberry taiyaki?” with a death voice. No one dares to breathe, but there you are, head peeking from the bathroom. “Oh, I ate it”.

~Everyone gets ready to hold Mikey down to at least give you a few minutes to run, but he just gets back to his normal mode and smiles. “Did you like it? I’ll buy more for you next time then.” And they’re absolutely bewildered. No, I will never get tired of this trope

~Food dates all of the time. Cafe, restaurant, bar, grocery store, name it and you’ll be going there. Especially if you’re too shy to go on your own. There is no such thing as ‘too much food’ in his dictionary. Eat to your heart’s content and if anyone dares to comment, we all know what happens.

~Totally the type to bring you some sweets and ask for cuddles, kisses and letting him sleep on your lap in exchange. But hey! You can do the same. Actually, you don’t even have to get him anything. He’s physically unable to say no to you even if he sometimes gets a little bit pouty, a few minutes later he doesn’t even remember why he was mad in the first place.

~Once you have dated for some time, he’s the type to ask you how does your food taste while you’re eating, and as you’re moving your plate towards him, it’s 50/50 whether he demands you to feed him or steals a kiss and then licks his lips and says, “it’s good.”

~The spoon feeding though. He wants you to feed him just as much as he wants to feed you. It makes everyone in the 10 metre radius look away. Especially if you happen to be hanging out with his friends. The moment you start, various groans and sighs can be heard all around you. But at the same time, they all have those little smirks on their lips.

~Their leader is smitten. Good for him.

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roosterforme · 6 months ago

Text

Covering the Classics Part 15 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna felt safe at Bob's house. A few days there, and she was sleeping and eating better than she had in years. It all felt so easy. But for Bob, her presence was both a balm and a temptation that he didn't know how to handle.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, bruises on Anna's arm, adult language, masturbation, 18+

Length: 6200 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

On Wednesday morning, Anna woke up in some sort of warm cocoon. She didn't feel the drafty air on her face like she usually did when she slept on her mattress on the floor. She felt like she was being absorbed by some sort of soft, fancy bedding, and her pillow was moving slightly beneath her.

"Anna. We have to get ready for work."

She knew that voice intimately. It was sweet and sincere but laced with a bit of sleepiness she'd never witnessed before. She felt goosebumps on the back of her neck as she realized she must still be asleep and dreaming of Bob.

"Not yet," she mumbled. "I'm having a good dream."

Her pillow moved a little more as she tried her hardest to cling to the last threads of sleep. She didn't want to have to get up and leave this warmth behind. Especially not to go to work where Kevin could easily find her and make her life hell again.

"We have to get up."

Anna groaned and opened her eyes, and she instantly realized she wasn't in her bed, nor was she alone. She jolted, fingers grasping along what she thought was her pillow when in fact it was Bob's chest. With her hands braced on his shoulders, she tried to push herself off of him, and that's when she noticed he was smiling softly.

"What were you dreaming about?"

How was she supposed to answer that question? She was curled up on his chest, warmer and more comfortable than she ever remembered being in her life, and of course she'd been dreaming about him. It wasn't until that moment that she remembered why she was here, and then the smile that was forming on her own lips slipped away.

"We should get ready for work," she whispered, scrambling out of his bed. When she grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom, she glanced back at him with his hands propped behind his head, his eyes following her every move.

Was she insane? She should have insisted on sleeping in the other room. The problem was that she wanted Bob so badly, and even though he knew everything now, she didn't want to hurt him. She could deal with hurting herself, but not him again. But all she was going to be able to think about for the rest of the day was snuggling with him, and then she was going to have to come back here again tonight. He would probably insist on that.

She got ready as quickly as she could, changing into her work outfit while she was in the bathroom and then braiding her hair. When she opened the door, Bob was standing there in his flight suit with the sleeves tied at the waist, making her heart skip around in her chest. His unshaven face and messy hair had her practically panting, dying to reach out for him. And then his eyes trailed down to the bruises on her arm, reminding her that she would need to wear her cardigan again all day.

"I'll make breakfast," he promised. "Just give me a couple minutes to shave."

"Okay."

She took some time to separate out her dirty laundry, knowing she would need to take care of that later, and then she went downstairs. She started poking around in the refrigerator, trying to see if there was something she could start making so he didn't have to do it. Then Bob was there again, right behind her. When she looked at him, his soft hair was perfect, and his face was smooth.

"Do you like scrambled eggs?" he asked, looking past her into the refrigerator.

"I like everything," she told him, wishing she could just kiss him like she wanted to.

"I can make them fancy with some cheese," he said with a cute little grin. "Maybe tomorrow if we get up earlier, I can do omelettes."

Anna wasn't going to make it. How was she supposed to just be here with Bob and not touch him? He knew about Kevin, and he was still being so lovely, she wanted to scream. "That sounds great," she whispered. "But you have to let me do the dishes later."

He agreed, and soon Anna was eating a hot breakfast, something she hadn't had in a very long time. And that wasn't all, because after she took the dishes to the sink, Bob insisted on packing her a lunch. In his own khaki green lunchbox that said TOP GUN BOB on it and had a velcro enclosure at the top. When he went to hand it to her, she threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she breathed, inhaling his scent and remembering how warm he kept her all night.

He chuckled and said, "It's nothing special. Jess should be here soon to pick you up. Will you... text me if Kevin shows up?"

Anna wanted to ask him what he would do about it if Kevin did in fact show up, but she simply promised him that she would let him know. Then Jess pulled up, and Bob handed her his spare house key which was on a twenty sided die keychain. She smiled down at her palm before looking up at him. "Have a good day, Bob."

"I'll pick you up later if Jess doesn't bring you back here first."

She nodded, took one last look at him in his flight suit, and then ran out to Jessica's car at the curb with her work bag and lunch. "Good morning," Anna sang in a cheery voice, making her friend laugh.

"Girl. Do I even want to know why you're staying with Bob?"

Anna sighed as she looked out the window at the neighboring houses as Jessica started to drive. "Kevin's in town, and he bruised my arm, and he tracked me down at work, and then he also knows where I live. But Bob pushed him against the wall, and I thought he was going to punch him, and then he insisted I come stay with him where it's more secure, and now I'm going to figure out how to get my manuscript."

Jessica swerved slightly. "What?!"

Anna laughed softly. "It's all good." And she honestly believed it was. For now.

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

"Tally! Coyote at five o'clock low!"

Nat responded seamlessly to Bob's commands, immediately dipping down below the horizon to get Javy on missile lock. Bob loved these kinds of drills, because he was always the fastest WSO to catch on to the training schemes. And Nat always followed his instructions, making her the fastest pilot to respond.

Honestly, he felt like he was on cloud nine right now. Waking up to Anna's body draped across his and her cheek resting over his heart was almost too good to be true. He didn't move for twenty minutes while she continued to doze, rather he used the time to count her freckles in the soft, early morning light. He could have gladly stayed there all day, and he thought she would have as well. However, she did seem a little startled when she woke up fully, but when he handed her the lunch he packed, she was back in his arms one last time.

It didn't really matter though. He wouldn't touch her without permission. As Nat soared past Javy, Bob made a face. Clearly he wasn't opposed to accepting Anna's touches though. He just wished this whole scenario made more sense to him. Clearly Anna and Kevin were over. She told him as much before, but now Bob had seen it with his own eyes. He was absolutely disgusted by the way Kevin yelled at her, but it just made him want her more. And the fact that Anna wanted to keep fighting made him feel like he needed her.

"Bob! High or low?" Nat shouted, and he had to scramble to locate Javy again.

"High! Eight o'clock high, Phoenix!"

With one swift maneuver, she took him out, and when they landed, she wrapped him up in a hug. "You're unbeatable today. Nobody else stood a chance." She narrowed her eyes and added, "You have a look about you. Oh my god! You got laid again! Don't tell me it was Anna."

She looked both delighted and terrified, and Bob just rolled his eyes. "Can't I look happy without getting laid?"

"Hmm, I know I can't," she said with a smirk. "Go ahead and keep your secrets," she murmured before running off to harass Bradley.

As Bob started walking back to the lounge, he dug his phone out of his helmet bag and almost tripped when he saw that Anna sent him a selfie of her eating lunch an hour ago. She was all smiles with the sandwich he made in her hand, and his heart thudded in his chest as he read the text accompanying it.

Anna Webber: Thanks for making me the perfect lunch. And you know that particularly good dream I had last night? It was about you.

"Fuck," he whispered, feeling even more exhilarated by his text thread than he did from being in the air. He dropped his bag at his feet on the tarmac and quickly typed back to her.

I can try to make you another perfect lunch tomorrow. And if you decide you want to share my bed again and have another particularly good dream tonight, you should tell me about it as soon as you wake up. Before you get out of bed.

He hit send. He had nothing to lose. Kevin could eat shit for all he cared. He would have pounded him into the wall if Anna didn't stop him. Not that he wanted to resort to violence himself. He just couldn't stand it when Anna was in tears getting screamed at.

"You coming, man?" Mickey asked, waving his hand in front of Bob's face. "I have something so cool I want to show you for our campaign. Jess will probably hate it, but I think it's great."

Bob followed him to the lounge, but he kept his phone in his hand just in case Anna wrote back, and when she did, he stood up and completely ignored Mickey's rambling.

Jess said she can drive me back to your house since we're both done at 4:30 today. And if you're going to keep insisting I sleep in your bed, then I'm going to keep insisting we share it. Besides, I always feel better when you're around.

"Man, what is with you?," Mickey asked as Bob wandered all the way to the other end of the lounge, running his fingers through his hair. "Almost nothing can distract you from D&D."

"It's Anna," he said quietly, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest.

"Yep, that'll do it then," Mickey muttered. "As soon as she gets divorced, you better propose."

Bob knew his friend was teasing him, but the thought alone left him staring out the window, imagining all of her books in his house and sharing a bed forever.

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

Anna felt so good, it was incredible. She had a delicious sandwich for lunch, complete with ham, swiss cheese and some sort of fancy multi-grain bread with spicy mustard. And that wasn't even it, because Bob also made her a little container of fruit salad. He packed peanuts and ginger ale too. She wasn't starving for dinner at 5:00 like she usually was, but the closer Jessica got to Bob's house, the more excited Anna got.

"Do you know what time he usually gets home? Does Jake get home at the same time every day?"

"Hmm, well the weather's good, so I'm sure they didn't get out early," Jessica replied. "Bob usually stops in the locker room to shower and change out of his flight suit on days when they are in the air, so I would guess he would be home just before six?"

"Okay," Anna said, trying to calm her excitement. While her students took their quiz earlier, she had some time to ponder and also daydream. According to the conference for the National Neurological Physicians Association, Kevin would probably be in town through Tuesday. She knew well enough now to know that whatever she planned on doing next, she would have to share it with Bob. The very subject of her daydreams. The cozy man she snuggled up with all night. She wanted to cook him dinner, but she needed to get to his house early enough to surprise him.

When Jessica stopped to drop her off, Anna hugged her quickly before picking up her bag and heading up the walkway with the spare key in her hand. "Make good choices when it comes to Bob!" Jessica shouted as she rolled down the window. "And when it comes to Kevin, too! You know what? Just make good choices in general!"

Anna waved as she unlocked the front door and ducked inside, locking it behind her immediately just as Bob had instructed. She had less than an hour to get something started for dinner, so she tossed her bag aside and ran for the refrigerator. He had everything. More groceries than she'd seen in months. Fresh vegetables and fruit and different kinds of cheese. Everything.

She found a pack of ground beef, a jar of tomato sauce and some spaghetti. It wasn't going to be the fanciest thing in the world, but she had time to make it. While the water boiled, she ran upstairs to get her laundry and brought it down. The small laundry room was near the kitchen, so she was able to start browning the meat and check on it while she loaded the washing machine.

Anna was running back and forth when she saw Bob's truck pull up through the front window. "Shit," she groaned. He was a little earlier than she thought he would be. She stuffed the rest of her clothes inside and then turned to lean back against the washing machine while Bob walked inside.

"Anna?" he called out, and her heart skipped a beat. What if this kind of thing could be normal for her? She could save up enough money to buy her own car again, and she could come back to Bob's house after work and wait for him to get home. They could eat dinner together.

"I'm doing laundry!" she called out, and a few seconds later, he was in front of her, leaning into the room while he held both sides of the doorframe. He was wearing snug, black gym shorts, sneakers and a white undershirt, and he smelled clean like soap. His biceps flexed as he held on and smiled at her.

"Are you cooking dinner?" he asked, cheeks a little pink as he let go of the doorway and stepped inside. When she nodded, he said, "You didn't have to do that."

Before she could stop herself, her hand found the front of his shirt, and his eyes went wide. "I wanted to," she whispered, bunching the cotton fabric against her palm and tugging slightly. Bob closed the distance between them, bracing his hands on the washing machine on either side of her. He was big and warm, and she knew she needed to be the one to make the next move to get his body touching hers.

Anna let her hand trail up his abs to his chest and around the back of his neck, his cheeks deepening in color with each inch, but he didn't move away. Then she pushed up onto her toes and kissed him, her lips barely brushing his. The front of his body met hers, pressing her butt back against the washing machine. He felt strong and solid, and the slippery fabric of his shorts met her other hand as both of his went to her hips. This is what she wanted, and she would make herself better and better until Bob deemed her good enough for him. If that's what it took, she would figure out a way to do it.

When she pulled away slightly after a few seconds, Bob's lips followed hers until she was treated to a kiss that was a little needier. A little bit rough around the edges. She gasped his name as she inhaled the smell of his clean skin, and then she said, "Oh, shit. Dinner."

As soon as she ducked out of his grasp, Bob let her run from the room toward the kitchen. She grabbed the spatula and checked to make sure the ground beef hadn't burned, and he was right behind her.

"I'm trying to make you spaghetti," she told him, reaching for the jar of sauce which she struggled to open. "But I guess I could use your help." She wanted his lips back on hers, but she didn't want to rush anything, so she simply handed the jar over to him when he held out his hand. With one quick twist of his wrist, the lid popped. "Show off," she muttered, earning a laugh as she dumped the sauce into a pan. "There should be enough for Suzanne, too. If you want to invite her over."

Bob just looked at her with a smile. "That's sweet. I'll take a plate over to her. I think I'd rather it just be the two of us here tonight."

"Okay," she told him. Being alone with Bob right now was definitely something she could get used to.

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

It had been so long since anyone else cooked for Bob, so this was a welcome surprise. Anna was just moving her clothing to the dryer when the timer went off for the pasta. "I'll take care of it," he said, just as she hung up a particularly intriguing looking black bra in his laundry room to let it dry. It was made out of sheer lace, and he immediately wondered if he'd be able to see her freckles through the fabric.

One kiss. It was just one kiss, and he was already dizzy over her again. But it was more than just the kiss. It was also her hand pulling him closer and the way she whispered his name. Bob dragged himself from his thoughts and plated the food she had cooked. He set everything on the table along with ginger ales, and when he went to get her from the laundry room, he saw that the bra had some matching panties with it now.

"Food's ready," he said, voice coming out even deeper than usual.

Anna followed him to the table and took the seat across from him. "You know, I'm sure it's fine if you want me out of your space. I highly doubt Kevin is going to come looking for me again, especially after you scared him off yesterday."

Bob gripped his fork a little tighter. "I can't make you stay here. But I want you to. I want to know you're safe."

Her brown eyes were soft as she picked up her own fork. "Okay," she said softly.

"Okay," he replied, already feeling better again.

Dinner was pretty quiet, just a simple exchange of what happened to both of them that day at work. When he asked if she'd heard from Kevin at all, she assured him she had not. Then he asked if she knew how long she thought he would be in California.

"Yeah," she told him as she collected the dirty dishes from the table. She unlocked her phone and set it down in front of him. "He's giving a closing speech on Tuesday morning, so he's probably heading back to New Jersey later that day." Bob looked at the tab she had opened and saw Kevin's name listed under a few events for each day, including a three hour dinner reception on Sunday evening. He was a busy man. It seemed like he'd done well for himself with all of Anna's money, and Bob just fucking hated him.

He set her phone aside. "I'll feel better when there's some more distance between you and him."

A cute little smile found her lips as she took the dishes away. Bob let her clean up, but he couldn't stop walking past the laundry room and looking inside. Even after she sat down to correct quizzes while he took some food over to Suzanne, the lacy set was still hanging in there. Even after Anna folded her laundry and started organizing it in neat piles on top of Bob's bedroom dresser, he knew those two pieces weren't with the rest.

He would have kept thinking about it, but then Anna yawned and turned to look at him. "I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm either sleeping in here with you again, or I'm sleeping in the other bedroom."

Bob studied her pretty face and her messy braid. "Should I get in bed and wait for you?" She nodded and bit her lip before scampering out of his room toward the bathroom. Then he had to change for bed while she showered, and he started getting hard as soon as he touched the elastic band of his boxer briefs. Anna and all of her things were all over his house, and she'd only been here for a little more than a day.

When he looked down at his flat abs and saw his cock bobbing to attention, he didn't think he was going to have time to jerk off. "No, no, no," he whispered. He tossed his gym shorts into his hamper and tried to walk it off, but it was no use. He felt like a teenager as he dove into bed as soon as he heard her turn the shower off. With his eyes squeezed closed, he lay there on his back under the covers, trying to think about something unsexy. Doing push ups, going to the dentist, buying bulk cat food at Costco for Suzanne.

He was working up a mental image of Mickey throwing up in the Hard Deck parking lot when Anna breezed back into his bedroom with damp hair and a white tank top that left nothing to the imagination. Not that he couldn't vividly recall her naked body beneath his. And the sounds she made when he fucked her. Bob tossed his glasses onto his nightstand with a groan, hoping that if he couldn't see how cute she looked in those ugly flannel pants, maybe he would get soft again.

But that didn't happen, and a few seconds later, Anna was slipping into bed with him just like last night. And then she linked her fingers with his again. When he turned off the lamp, she curled up next to him, and his fingers brushed against her bare skin. Her knee nudged along the top of his thigh; a few more inches and she was going to be able to feel him.

"Good night," she whispered into the darkness, and he could tell her face was near his.

When he turned his head toward her and whispered, "Good night," she surprised him with a kiss. One that lingered. Her body was halfway on top of his, fingers combing lazily through his hair, and there was no way she couldn't feel how his cock was pressing shamelessly against her leg. When she didn't stop kissing him, he brought his hand up to rest on her back. She treated him to kiss after kiss, but she didn't take it any further. That was okay with him; this was more than enough.

Her lips brushed his one last time before she settled in with her cheek resting on his chest, and soon she was asleep while Bob held her, wondering if there was some way he could help her get her manuscript so she could finally leave Kevin behind.

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

As the week wore on, Anna spent her free moments thinking about Bob and also trying to figure out if there was a way to defeat Kevin. She wanted access to her writing, because she wanted to move on with her life. However, she was starting to come around to the idea of just letting Kevin have it so she could have Bob. She was still bleeding money to her lawyers, and even though she was staying at Bob's place, she still had to pay the astronomically high rent to her landlord, too.

If she had to still be married to Kevin, then there had to be some sort of benefit to it. On Friday at lunchtime, she was thinking about it while she sat between her friends and ate the beautiful sandwich that Bob packed for her. She could tell both of them wanted more information than she'd been sharing about her week at Bob's house. Jessica was practically vibrating every day on the drive to campus, but Anna knew she didn't want to pry.

But it was her other friend who said, "That's another nice looking sandwich you have today. It looks like Bob has been spoiling you."

"He sure has," Anna said with a dreamy sigh.

"Does that mean you're sleeping together?!" Jessica asked, her voice getting an octave higher at the end of the sentence.

Anna hummed and licked some mustard from her lip. "Define sleeping together."

"Fucking!" Jessica hissed. "Are you fucking?"

"No. But we are sleeping together," she replied with a smile.

"What does that mean?!"

"I think it means they are literally sleeping together," Advanced Calculus said as she dipped a carrot stick into the spicy hummus Bradley made. "Beer Boy said Bob looks like he won the lottery every morning, so I would assume that's why. And I would also assume that they are making out. Maybe a little under the clothing action going on?"

Anna was blushing furiously as her friend casually bit into the carrot stick, and Jessica nearly fell off the bench. "That's um.... well maybe just a tiny bit of the under the clothing part, but the rest is pretty accurate."

"Okay," Jessica said while slapping her own thigh. "You could have told me this when I drove you in every day this week! And I hope you know Bob loves you."

Anna smiled. She felt more confident than she had in years. She finally felt like she could let go of the one thing she thought she needed, because she found other things and other people that made a difference in her life. "That's convenient, because I'm in love with him, too. And I think... once I know Kevin is back in New Jersey and won't try to corner me again... I think I'm going to just finalize the divorce as is."

"Your manuscript!" both women gasped in unison.

Anna nodded. "I know, but I think I need to let go of it and just move on."

Neither of her friends mentioned it again after that, for which she was grateful. After she gave her afternoon lectures and started to pack up for the weekend, she got a text from Bob.

Bob Floyd: I'm on my way to pick you up. Pizza for dinner?

She wrote back and told him that was fine as long as he let her pay for it, and thirty minutes later, there was a soft knock on her office door. "It's Bob," he told her, and she threw the door open and pulled him inside by his khaki collar.

He didn't hesitate or try to stop her as she kissed him with both hands in his hair before she whispered, "Hi, Bob."

He was all smiles after that, and his hand was at her lower back as she locked the door behind them and headed toward the elevator. He pulled her a little closer as she told him about her day and thanked him for making her lunch.

"So I'll pay for the pizza. Did you order it already?"

"Yep," he replied as they held hands in the elevator. "It'll be ready in ten minutes."

But when they got there, she realized Bob had already put it on his credit card. "You're impossible," she told him as she shoved five bucks into the tip jar.

"I'm not going to apologize for buying us a pizza," he said casually, and it turned out to be one of the best pizzas Anna had ever had in her life.

They sat side by side on the couch with paper plates and napkins while they watched Pride & Prejudice. "New Jersey is supposed to have good pizza," she whispered in awe.

Bob just shrugged and said, "I think southern California might be superior."

"In every way," Anna whispered before she finished her crust. She loved it here. She loved her friends and her job. She loved Bob. She knew what she had to do now, and she knew it would be okay. "You know what else southern California has?"

"Enlighten me," he said as he wiped his hands with his napkin.

"A surplus of men in uniforms," she said, running her finger down his sleeve and along his name tag. "I didn't know how much I'd like these things." Bob was blushing as she kissed his cheek. "But I liked you way before I knew you were in the Navy."

She was thinking of him as Sky Writing as he turned and kissed her, and once again, they ended the evening in his bed. And this time, there was a lot more touching under their clothing.

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

Bob looked at Anna as she moaned in delight while she ate the soup he made for dinner on Saturday. It was pouring rain, and he didn't feel like going out to play Dungeons & Dragons. He wanted to stay inside where it was warm. Where Anna would end up in his arms after they cleaned up the kitchen.

"What time do you have to leave?" she asked him, and he thought he saw a little flash of sadness on her face.

"In about a half an hour." He took the chance and added, "I don't have to go. I could stay here."

"No! Mickey and Jess will be devastated! She told me so much about her Barbarian on the drive to work yesterday, she'll never get over it if you skip tonight. Besides, I have something I can do to keep myself busy."

"Alright," Bob agreed. "But I probably won't be home before eleven, so you don't have to wait up."

He helped wash the dishes and went to search for the umbrella he hardly ever had to take out with him. He packed up his dice and character sheet and put his shoes on. When he found Anna again, she was curled up on the couch with one of his books.

"You love poetry," he told her as he ran his thumb along the back of her hand.

"I love some poetry," she whispered. "I love your poetry."

He wanted her to say she loved him. He thought she did. Everything was moving along now, but Kevin was still in California, and Bob wasn't sure exactly how to go about all of the details with Anna. So he simply said, "I'll be back in a little bit. Keep all the doors locked? Call me if you need me?"

"I will."

He took one last look at her freckles and her big, brown eyes, and then he ventured out into the wet night. He offered to pick Jessica up since she'd been driving Anna around all week, but she said she'd drive herself there. He was surprised she didn't want to pump him for all of the information related to him and Anna, but perhaps Anna had already told her? The idea of that made him a little warm. He wondered what she might have said. Obviously they had already had sex last month, but this time it felt exactly right when they touched and kissed each other.

God, Bob really hated Kevin. The bruises on Anna's arm were finally fading to yellow. And she didn't seem as worried now. It was obvious that she was comfortable in his house, and he wanted her there. He didn't know how he was going to make it through several hours of this campaign tonight when she was all snuggled up on his couch.

When he arrived and got ready to play, he thought maybe she had moved to his bed by now. He could picture her in those ugly pants, her nipples peaked against her cotton tank top. Her red hair impossibly dark.

"I said you need to roll for initiative."

Bob looked up and quickly picked up his twenty sided die. He was distracted and rolling like shit tonight, and he kept relying on everyone else to bail him out of each round of fighting. He could barely even pay attention to the story, and that was usually his favorite part. Jessica had to keep poking him in the side when he was supposed to take his turn.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I'm thinking about Anna. I can't stop thinking about her," he muttered. "She's... probably already in bed, and being there with her as we fall asleep together is kind of my new favorite thing."

Jessica cleared her throat and loudly announced. "My stomach hurts. So bad. Can we stop a little early tonight?"

She was literally the worst liar in existence. She was even worse than Bob. He was trying not to laugh as everyone nodded sympathetically at her as they started to pack up. "Thanks," he murmured, and she just winked at him as she adjusted her glasses.

"No problem. Go home and snuggle."

He drove carefully back home in the rain until he was passing through the deserted streets of his neighborhood. He parked right in front of Suzanne's car like he always did, and he killed the engine. Maybe he should just tell Anna how he felt, although he was sure she already knew. He didn't exactly need to hear the words back, but he wanted them to be out there. He didn't even need a title on whatever their relationship was, but he didn't want it to be nothing either.

Quickly, he dashed through the rain, shooed Sylvester inside his neighbor's front door before closing it, and then he unlocked his own door. The living room was dark unlike earlier, and at first he didn't hear anything.

"Anna?" he called out softly as the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. He froze when he realized he heard a voice coming from upstairs. Halfway up the steps, he realized it was her, and she sounded distraught. "Anna," he gasped, taking the steps two at a time until he was standing on the top landing.

She was definitely in his bedroom, and he almost tripped as he lunged for the door, pushing it open just in time to hear her moan his name.

Bob's jaw dropped open at the sight before him. Anna was spread out on the middle of his bed, red hair all over the place, and she was wearing nothing but that black bra and panty set he hadn't been able to stop thinking about. Her eyes were squeezed shut tight, hand tucked in the front of her underwear as she stroked her clit and turned her face until it was buried in his pillow. He watched her inhale deeply as his hand rested on his hard cock which was pressing against the fly of his jeans.

"Fuck," she grunted after thrashing around a little bit in his bed. She still hadn't seen him yet, but his gaze was fixed firmly on her body. "Fuck me, Bob," she moaned, and he stumbled forward. "Oh, god. I want you!"

Her back arched slightly off the bed as he took another step closer, unzipping his pants. He no longer had to wonder if he'd be able to see her freckles through the sheer fabric. He definitely could, which made the little black set even sexier, but he also wanted her naked. He wanted to be inside her. He watched as she came on her own fingers.

"Anna," he groaned as his hand met his length, and her eyes snapped open as she yanked her hand back out of her panties.

"Oh my god!" she practically shrieked, face flushing pink. "Bob! You're back early!"

He nodded and watched her wide eyes as she realized he was stroking himself. "I wanted to come back home as soon as I left. I wanted to be with you. And now I want to fuck you."

"Oh," she sighed, getting up so she was kneeling in the middle of his bed, licking her lips like his most depraved fantasy. Her hair was a mess, and her nipples were hard peaks as she nodded and came crawling toward him. Her breath ghosted along the tip of his cock as it hung out of his jeans. She looked up at his face, licked at his precum and said, "That's exactly what I want you to do."

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

Get. It. Bobby. Leave no doubt in her mind that you love her, but get it, baby. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 16

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Note

Quick! Info dump about your favorite blorbo!

König headcanons

NSFW content below the cut, 18 + only (These apply to yandere König as well, the toxic stuff is marked with a red flag 🚩)

Does like 50 crunches and 50 pushups first thing in the morning when he wakes up, as he has done since he was a teenager.

Will fix everything from cars to furniture. If the door is creaking he will oil the hinges immediately. Actually, he will treat every single thing in life as a problem... A problem he will fix.

He's great at math and physics and has vast amounts of knowledge about mechanics, thermodynamics, even things like quantum theory and other complex astronomy stuff.

He's completely clueless when it comes to following trends and memes. You have to explain every other tiktok to him. He rarely uses emojis but when he does, it's awkward and slightly intimidating because König doesn't know the hidden meanings behind them. If you send him an eggplant or peach emoji he asks if you need veggies from the store.

Loves your cooking (even if it's just microwaved mac and cheese). If you start to feed this man, you'll never get rid of him.

This is your classic mama’s boy who never had to learn how to cook and then went to the army and got used to the facility taking care of him so… yeah. Doesn't know how to cook but will try to help in any way he can! König is very excited to see you’re making food and wanders into the kitchen like “What are we making today?” You can try and give him a chopping board, an onion and a knife, but this poor man doesn't even peel the onion unless you tell him he has to remove the outer layer first...

Eats like a horse. Is secretly afraid that you run out of food. Goes to the fridge and if it's half full, he will not take the snack he was supposed to have, only comments: "The fridge looks empty." (It's not a passive aggressive statement, he's just worried.)

Also: everytime there's a crisis somewhere – he follows the news neurotically – König starts to prep. There's a month's worth of food stashed in one of the cupboards at all times. He also preps fuel, propane, medicine and the like.

Ruins all the fun when you're playing board games because he fusses about the rules so much. König holds the rulebook in his hand through the whole game and double-checks every single thing.

He's very clumsy, sometimes hits his head on the door frame when he's in a hurry or visiting a new place. He can't stay still either, always shakes his leg when he’s sitting. König needs a lot of exercise when he's not deployed to get all that energy and frustration out.

This has been discussed earlier but yeah, König even drops his mags sometimes in the field because he's too excited. He's a very capable martial artist though. Has done Savate, Escrima and Pekiti-Tirsia Kali and is very agile and precise with the double kali sticks he carries to field sometimes. Suddenly his clumsiness disappears when he has to knife someone, kick someone in the head or beat them to death with those sticks.

This is the reason König fucked up his sniper dreams too: having to control his breath, lie still for long amounts of time, then take aim and shoot a rifle vs. aiming during an adrenaline high, giving a tight spurt or two with his SMG… The latter just comes naturally to him! If you ask him how he managed to take down a human trafficking cell all alone König will say he simply "got carried away."

König goes to the gym a lot. Gets back super pumped and with an urgent need to make love. But not before he's had a cold shower! It's almost like a ritual: he has to torture himself with weights and cold water first before he can have his prize (= access to a woman)

Wakes you up in the middle of the night because he started to worry about petty, stupid things and then got a lil horny. Humps your leg or your back very, very slowly while grunting in your ear: "Hey... Hey. Are you sleeping…?" (Like. Yes, König, I was but I'm not anymore, thanks for asking)

Asks what kind of fantasies you have all of a sudden while you two are cuddling. Asks very detailed questions about them too. If you ask him what kind of fantasies he has in return, König will tense up and then say he doesn't really know, perhaps something like… a blowjob in the forest… And somehow you just know that his real fantasies are so perverse you don't even want to know more about them.

If you "nag" or yell at him, he might get a boner.

If you notice and get offended, ask: "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?!' König will freeze and look at you with a bewildered, obsessed stare and go: "Ja..?" while the boner situation in his pants gets visibly worse.

🚩 Would never go to bed before you've settled your argument. The problem is that it's very difficult for König to apologize because he always thinks he's in the right and that you simply need some time to come to that conclusion too. If you give him the silent treatment he will eventually come to you, gets all touchy and asks surprisingly demurely: "Are you still angry with me?"

🚩 The minute you forgive him or decide it was a stupid argument anyways, the demure puppy act disappears. König thinks he won and that it's time for some makeup sex ❤️

Has like the longest cock known to man. He has actual trouble finding comfortable underwear to fit that beast into. It's beautiful but intimidating, uncut, smooth and sleek. Not too thick but certainly not thin either. He likes to keep himself tidy down there too so the lack of hair makes this murder weapon look even bigger.

You two occasionally break furniture while having sex. It's mainly his fault (he gets carried away). He's very upset about it afterwards though, looks at the destruction he caused, muttering "Scheisse…" while rubbing the back of his neck. Then he tries to fix it while you're still there with your legs shaking and in need of aftercare.

If you remind him that he has other duties first, perhaps whimper his name in frustration, König will apologize and carry you to bed. He gives you that precious aftercare with unwavering passion and attention every time you ask for it ❤️ He's just a little clueless sometimes (König is also neuroatypical, either has AD/HD or falls somewhere in the autism spectrum)

🚩 Hates condoms with an intense passion. You're practically forced to take birth control pills or whatever so that he can cum inside you. This man's whining will ultimately gain a level that's absolutely ridiculous if you don't.

The first time you do it without the rubber, he sounds like he's about to cry. He tells you a hundred times how good it feels, and won't pull out until he grows soft and is kind of forced to do so. For a man who's never even heard of a breeding kink, he seems vehement about keeping his load inside you.

🚩Grunts and whispers loving but obsessive things in your ear while making love to you. You're mine, Say it, Promise that you're mine, I don't want to live without you, Why do you feel so good? at first… but as he approaches his peak, König switches to German. You have no clue what he’s saying, but from the way he spits those sentences through gritted teeth you get the feeling that it must be something desperate and that perhaps it's a blessing you don't understand his native tongue...

🚩🚩If you leave your phone on the table he tries to stalk it and check the notifications. He's so jealous it's unreal, if he sees you receive a message from some other guy König will start a circus. He needs to know all about your connection with this man. After that, he wants you to go through your contacts and show him how many guys there are and tell him what your affiliations are with them. If you're on social media König wants to go through your friends/those you follow. You have to give an account who they are and why you follow them.

🚩🚩🚩 You get a feeling he's forming a list of people he has to kill if you don't tell him they're just a cousin or something 💀

#answered #könig headcanons #könig x you #könig mw2 #its not quick but its an infodump

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