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800db-cloud · 8 months ago

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spare some spy hcs? 👀

OKAY. ok. so i have been putting off answering this ask because i’m admittedly very shy and very afraid of sharing my headcanons. and also because i have A LOT OF THEM.. but here we are!

here are my headcanon spies :) René works for RED and Jacques works for BLU!

where to start, where to start… i have a LOT of headcanons for them, i’ll be talking for FOREVER here. i’ll just start with story because why not! xP

René’s parents were also agents/spies, so he was always destined to be one as well. And he lives up to his parents’ legacies! He’s most notorious for destroying gangs and mobs and the like from the outside in. He was brought to America years ago to take out a dangerous mob boss, but unfortunately found himself infatuated (and involved) with the boss’ daughter. Luckily for him, the boss’ daughter wanted the guy dead, too.

René’s story is honestly a lot more fleshed out than Jacques’, but here goes anyway:

Jacques’ father was a very rich and powerful man in politics. Jacques himself was the result of an affair, and to keep it hush-hush, his father decided to raise him. Raise is a strong word, though— but he did help his father gain intelligence and blackmail on opposing political parties. Jacques proved to be a promising spy since childhood.

If anyone has any suggestions/ideas for Jacques’ story, let me know haha x) he didn’t have the greatest upbringing per se…

last thing on this section i wanna talk about is the Scouts. René is related to both of the Scouts; he’s RED Scout (Jeremy)’s biological father, and he’s BLU Scout (James)’ adoptive/step-father. Jacques has no relation to either scout, but acts as a guardian figure to BLU Scout.

anyway, this is the part where i continue talking about other miscellaneous headcanons! and these come with doodles :)

You couldn’t catch René DEAD without his mask, or his suit! He’d neeever take them off around other people (‘other people’ is mainly just Scout. For obvious reasons.) Meanwhile, Jacques is pretty lenient in letting his teammates see his face! Everyone on BLU’s seen his face at least once.

A big part of why René refuses to strip down is also due to the fact he has a LOT of tattoos. No doodle for this one because I’ve yet to decide on what tattoos to put on him (ideas are very welcome!!), but yeah! Most of the tattoos were ‘forced’ onto him/he had to get for jobs and ‘fitting in’ with bad crowds, but a good few of them were of his own accord, too.

Jacques doesn’t have tattoos, but he has a myriad of another thing: scars! Lots and lots of scars on this guy. Faded and old, sure, but they’re there. Most prominent ones are the one around his neck (from when the RED Medic beheaded him) and the ones on his forearms (those are from the LAST time he was imprisoned— looong story…)

René doesn’t cook very often for his team, but when he does, everyone’s always BLOWN AWAY by this guy’s cooking! René’s really bad at taking compliments, though— (“Cooking food that’s remotely edible isn’t a compliment, it’s basic survival.”) —but rest assured he’ll be thinking about it for the next month. Jacques, however… Do NOT let this guy into the kitchen. Ever. The BLU base has a special fire extinguisher “In Case Spy Decides To Turn On The Stove”

oooh, this one is an hc and a HALF to me. René much prefers working alone. It’s just in his nature, being isolated and whatnot. He likes to deal with things by himself– maybe he doesn’t want to burden others? On the contrary, Jacques NEVER works alone. It’s a trait he’s had even before being hired to BLU. You never know when things could go wrong, so it’s best to have someone else to fall back to… or someone else you can blame!

these hcs both have something to do with how René and Jacques show their trust in other people :) it’s a bit convoluted but it gets there:

René is, amusingly, very bad at remembering names. Almost laughably bad. There have been many-a-story of his days before RED where he’d get a target’s name wrong, even after he’d repeated it in his head dozens of times over. Names are difficult for him, so if he remembers yours, it means you mean a lot to him! He prefers using his teammates’ names rather than their titles. René is unaware of how charming this specifc trait is to his coworkers (they saw how much work and effort it took for him to memorize their names, they’re just happy with how far he’s come!)

Jacques has a… to put simply, very complicated relationship with food. But the one thing he’ll never turn down is sweets. His favorites especially being chocolate bonbons. Jacques has a hard time eating in front of others, let alone sharing his food! But if he genuinely likes and trusts you enough, he’d have half the mind to share with you. Admittedly, he hasn’t brought himself to share with most of the members of his team yet, except for a select few. Mostly BLU Medic and BLU Sniper.

—

and of course, eventually, EVENTUALLY, these two also become friends! it took a little bit but believe me, they both respect each other’s skill in their job :)

AHHg i could go sooo much longer about them— from things like their physical traits (how much teeth they have? it’s a pressing question) or different periods of their life (why did rené have to leave his family? why was jacques imprisoned for the last time?) BUT this post is so… so, so long. My fingers hurt from typing

If you’ve managed to read through this Beast, THANK YOU RAAHH!!! thanks so much for asking this, too. i hope to spare more hcs someday. hehe ^_^

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #spy tf2 #tf2 spy #era.png #id in alt text #VERY LONG POST !!! very text heavy aaouhg #ok its taking all of my courage to make this post but i promised myself i’d get it out before i-#-turned nineteen LFJDKG. so. here they are :) rené and jacques my pookies…#UMM… idk what else to say here. thanks for asking and if you read this: THANK YOU ALSO ^_^#tumblr does NAWT want to format this post properly im going to pull my hair out #smoking #ask to tag #JUST IN CASE !!! there’s some slight implications of stuff here and there so if anyone needs anything tagged then feel free to lmk!#i also evidently have. a LOT of hcs regarding the BLU team. coughs. dont worry about that right now. Dont worry about it #era.txt #anon

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rainrot4me · 22 days ago

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helli, I don't know if you take requests or not, but I saw your eyeless jack hc's and was wondering what if s/o actually was up to jack cutting into their abdoment? I thought that was a interesting hc but I liked it.

Have a good day/night/evening!

Please, please, please, please, please be cautious reading this. Remember it's fiction.

SMUT WARNING, MDNI

✦ . Characters: Eyeless Jack x Genderneutral Reader

✦ . Warning: THAT DOVE IS DEAD, scalpels, organ pleasure, paraphilia, internal organs, blood, I don't know how else to tag this besides Jack literally fucks your intestines through a cut in your stomach, pain and pleasure, mentions of needles and medical equipment, reader is a proxy/not entirely human

✦ . Words: 2.7k

✦ . Note: I'm not responsible for your personal enjoyment/disgust of this work so do not come complaining to me!!! ALSO, I’m in no way a medical expert, so take everything I write here at face value and not as what would actually happen (I hope none of you actually partake in this LMAO).

────────────────────────────────────────────

“I’m not suggesting. If we’re going to do this, you’re going to listen to me.”

Jack counted, then recounted every inch of medical tubing that ran up your arms, checking once again that he had all of them flowing correctly. The medical table underneath your back wasn’t comfortable, but the giddiness you felt overran the complaint of stale leather and stiff wood.

It was your idea, after all, to follow through with this whole fantasy. The demon never brought it up again after he had let it slip once—the idea of fucking something other than just your holes—but you never let it slip your stingy mind. It came as teasing afterwards, breathless remarks about ‘sticking his dick in’ while Jack sewed up yet another bullet wound or knife attack. As a proxy, the sting of pain became secondary to the sting of disappointment you would get from messing up a mission.

“Love, I’m fine.”

You reassured him yet again, reaching a hand out to grip on his wrist, the tubing that stuck into your veins following with the movement.

“I’ll be the judge.” A stern remark. You were beginning to think this would make him more stressed than anything.

He adjusted the mask over his face, not the porcelain one, not today. Just a medical-grade surgical mask, as if that could sanitize what was about to happen. His gloved hands paused at your hips. Not out of hesitation, but deliberation. Measuring, calculating, and then recalculating again.

The scalpel gleamed beneath the low amber light overhead. He had used it a thousand times before, but right now, it looked like he wasn’t even sure how to hold it.

“You have to tell me,” he said quietly, not looking at you, “if anything changes. If your heart rate spikes. If your breathing changes. If you feel cold, nauseous, faint—”

“I know the list, Jack,” you murmured, voice warm despite the chill in the air. “You’ve made me memorize it every time I get so much as a scratch.”

He glanced at you then, the sockets where eyes should be were black and bottomless, unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his gaze settle over you like a second set of hands.

“This isn’t a scratch.”

You tilted your head, smirking just a little. “Then make it count.”

That shut him up.

Silence bloomed between you for a moment, taut and thrumming. Your pulse was steady, he was monitoring it on a tiny screen just out of your line of sight, but his? Jack’s breath was shallow, stiff, like his lungs refused to sync with the calm professionalism he wore like a second skin. His energy was thrumming against you, even as he leaned closer, even as his hands steadied over the exposed area of your gut.

Then the scalpel kissed your abdomen.

Just a line, not yet breaking skin. He dragged it slowly from sternum to navel, a cold whisper over warm flesh, and you shivered, goosebumps shot up like a warning.

“Last chance,” he said, voice a ragged whisper. “If you say stop, I stop. I don’t care what you promised or what you think you can take. My pleasure is not worth you life, love.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

You could see it: the twitch in his jaw. That flicker of restraint cracking.

“I want you, Jack,” you said, breathless now. “All of you. Even this.”

He exhaled through his nose, something feral and broken. Not quite relief, not quite fear, but things deep and old that stirred in him when you said that like you meant it.

The scalpel cut.

Not deep, just enough, just barely. A hot line of pain seared across your skin, sharp and bright and real. You gasped from the sheer thrill of it. Jack’s gloved hand pressed gently against your side, steadying you.

His breath caught.

“You shouldn’t look so happy,” he said, voice hoarse. “It’s fucked.”

You grinned up at him, eyes glittering with heat. “Then we’re both fucked.”

He leaned in, hovering over you, the warm wetness of your blood slicking his gloves as he spread you open, not cruelly, not recklessly, but with reverence. With trembling hands and barely-contained hunger.

The scalpel’s edge dipped beneath the top layer of skin. A clean incision. Shallow enough to avoid danger, but enough to make your breath catch and your limbs tense against the restraints. Jack felt it, the flutter of your pulse against the inside of your wrist, and watched, silently, as a thin rivulet of blood bloomed from the cut and curved down your side.

“Breathe through it,” he said lowly, almost beneath his breath, not a command, more like a reminder to himself. To both of you.

He set the scalpel down with reverent care, replacing it with gloved fingers that were soaked almost immediately in the warm slickness pooling from the wound. Your blood coated his hands, dripping between his knuckles, sliding down his wrists in long, slow trails. It made his mask cling tighter to his face from the heat radiating off both of you.

Jack’s hands spread you open gently, the pads of his fingers pulling the skin apart to expose the layer of fat beneath. Yellowish and subcutaneous, still undisturbed by damage, glistening under the low light.

Your body arched involuntary. A hiss of pain curled off your lips, and he watched it. Every twitch of your body fed into that overworked brain of his: breathing, color, responsiveness. You were straining, but you were there. You were with him.

“You’re handling this better than I expected,” he said, voice low and shaking with something that wasn’t fear. Not anymore.

Desire, tightly caged, pushed against the back of his throat. He hadn’t felt this much pressure in years, not since the last time he’d truly wanted. His cock pressed against the front of his jeans, hard and straining, but he didn’t move toward release. Not yet, not until he finished what he started.

He reached for the clamps.

One by one, he peeled you open. Just slightly, just enough to let the blood roll down your sides in thick, slow arcs, not pouring, but oozing, dark and rich and slick. He placed the clamps with exact care: one on each side of the cut, holding the skin parted so he could see deeper. The pale fascia layer shone beneath, the muscles flexed. Jack sucked in a sharp breath.

“This is insane,” he muttered to himself, but his hands didn’t stop. “You’re insane.”

Yet, he leaned in closer.

His fingers brushed the muscle wall, feeling the heat pouring out of you like a furnace. Blood coated the table. It soaked your lower back and ran toward the leather padding beneath your spine. Your poor clothes were beyond salvageable now. You were smiling through the pain, through the heavy ache blooming inside you.

Jack was trembling now. He leaned over you, lips inches from your temple, and whispered, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

His voice cracked at the edge. You offered yourself like a specimen and a sacrifice, and he was fighting the line between worship and defilement.

One hand, just one, dropped to his belt. He paused, checking your vitals again, glancing at the monitors. Still stable, still strong. Your breath came out in uneven, heated bursts, but you weren’t crying. You weren’t begging him to stop. Tears were welled in your eyes, but nothing to be overly concerned about, yet.

You were thriving in it.

He pushed his hips against the table edge and groaned, muffled behind his mask, his other hand tracing the opened wound again, not pressing too deep, not enough to damage, just to feel, to memorize the heat and slickness of your insides under his fingertips. He could see everything, all the bits and pieces that worked together to keep you going, to keep the one he loved moving and talking and his.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, head bowed, voice nearly broken. “Perfect and fucking ruined.”

The blood had soaked through to his thighs. He didn’t care. It dripped off the table in steady splashes, pooling on the floor beneath him. There was a feral gleam in his posture now, tempered only by the strict rigidity he had grown to master. No flinching, no frenzy, just precision, a steady hand with a throbbing ache behind his zipper and an unbearable tightness in his chest.

This was desire in its rawest, ugliest, truest form. And Jack had never loved someone more than he did when you moaned softly and whispered, “More.”

“Fuck.”

Jack adjusted the clamps again, delicately teasing the incision wider. The abdominal wall pulled apart under the gentle pressure, revealing a glistening tapestry of tissue, layers of pink and red, quivering slightly with every breath you took. The room smelled like copper and antiseptic, thick and sharp. Jack leaned over the cut, mesmerized.

He could see the coils of your intestines, slick and glistening with fluid, nestled like an offering inside you. Your liver, dark and velvet-smooth, sat tucked to one side, pulsing faintly. Your stomach curved beneath it, twitching slightly. You were a cathedral of blood and muscle, and Jack bowed before the altar of your anatomy.

“Fuck,” he rasped again, voice hoarse. “You’re so goddamn beautiful like this.”

The mask over his face was stifling. It kept him from you, from your scent, your breath, the warmth of your skin. He tore it off with one hand, flinging it to the side with shaking fingers, and exhaled shakily as cool air hit his skin. A bit of your blood streaked across his cheek. He didn’t wipe it off.

You were watching him, dazed, drunk on the adrenaline and pain, but your eyes stayed locked on his. There was no fear in them, just longing.

Jack climbed up onto the table with slow, deliberate care, straddling your hips so his knees bracketed your thighs. You could feel the weight of him now, the tremble in his legs, the tension in his gut. The bulge in his pants pressed against your stomach, just below the wound.

Even now, he didn’t move too fast.

One gloved hand reached for the drawer beside the table. The other tore at the buttons and zipper containing him, tugging his cock sharply with his latex palm. He fished out a packet, and tore it open. His fingers moved automatically, rolling the condom down with expert care. He held himself over you, head bowed, one hand braced beside your head, the other finishing the motion.

“I need to know,” he murmured, dipping closer, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone, then your temple. “You’re still okay? Nothing’s changed? Heart rate’s steady, no dizziness, no numbness?”

You nodded, breath hitching as he kissed the corner of your mouth. His lips were hot and slick with sweat, blood, and something unbearably tender.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, a quiet confession breathed directly into your ear. “Not to this. Not to me.”

Your hand, trembling, reached up and touched the back of his neck, encouraging, grounding. Jack let out a shaky sigh and leaned into it. His body trembled above yours, barely holding himself together.

“This isn’t about fucking,” he whispered. “It’s worship. I want to be inside you. With your blood on my hands and your body open to me like this. It’s not just pleasure. It’s—” He broke off, his voice almost cracking.

His forehead pressed against yours.

“—it’s communion.”

He rocked his hips gently, pressing himself flush to you, not yet entering but close, so achingly close. One hand ghosted down, stroking the edge of the incision, marveling at the way your body welcomed him even now. His other hand found yours and squeezed.

“You’re everything,” he whispered. “And I swear to God, I’ll bring you back from this. I’ll sew you back up perfectly. You’ll feel nothing but safe and loved.”

You gave a weak laugh, trying not to move around your open abdomen too much, but still communicating.

He kissed your mouth then, deep and slow, tasting of blood and desperation, while his trembling hips pressed against you, sliding his cock between the folds of opened skin without entering, just feeling, just savoring.

He could lose himself in this. But he wouldn’t. Because he had you.

Jack hovered, every inch of him taut and trembling like a cord about to snap. His cock, sheathed and slick, pressed flush to the line of your opened flesh, not thrusting, not breaching, but feeling. Just the heat, the proximity, the tension of muscle and blood and living warmth beneath him. Your body pulsed against his, and his breath stuttered in response.

The sensation of your split-open belly against him wasn’t grotesque to him. It was divine, sacred. The friction of skin slicked with blood, the twitch of exposed fascia under his thighs, the trembling strength still thrumming through your body despite the pain. You weren’t fragile, you were transcendent, and Jack was trembling like a devout man at the gates of heaven.

He kissed your mouth again, slower this time, mouth open, breath hissing through his teeth. When he pulled back, his lips were tinged crimson. Your blood was on him, in him now. He licked it without thinking.

“I need to go slow,” he whispered, voice cracked and guttural. “If I do this too fast, I’ll break. I’ll fucking lose it.” He was starving.

You tilted your face into his, mouth brushing his jaw. “Then lose it.”

His hips practically moved on their own.

He pressed forward — not into the organs, not through the surgical field, but just above. Carefully, Jack guided himself between the gap of your skin and insides, slick with your own excitement and the blood running from the incision. The mix of fluids made him groan deep in his chest. His hips rolled forward in a slow, measured motion, sheathing himself inside you with one shuddering breath.

Your walls gripped him, and for a second, Jack’s entire body seized up. He clenched the table’s edge, head bowed so low it nearly touched your collarbone. He contorted himself, trying to not let his size crush you.

“God—” he gasped, “You’re—so warm, so fucking tight—alive.”

He stayed still, buried in you, trembling with the strain of holding back. Around him, your body twitched with the dull burn of the incision, the clamps holding you open, the ache of fullness and restraint. Every breath you took stretched your skin and made the gap that much smaller for him to fit inside. But your hand found his jaw, and when you whispered his name— “Jack” —something tore through him all over again.

He moved.

Slowly, with measured control. His hips rocked into yours, shallow at first, grinding rather than thrusting, careful not to jostle the table or disturb the surgical site. But every stroke pushed him deeper, not just inside your body, but into something untouched by him or anyone else.

Your groans and gasps were like music, every jostle of your body making you react in ways much different than normal sex. This was more severe, more intense than anything the two of you had experienced, this was new territory. Scary or not, you were enjoying it.

His gloved fingers slid down to your lower abdomen, ghosting just beside the open wound. He didn’t touch the organs—he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not during. But he let his palm rest just above, feeling the movement inside you, the tension, the way your body pulsed beneath him.

“You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, voice rough with adoration. “You’re incredible. So strong. So beautiful.” He kissed you again, your lips, your cheek, your throat, leaving smears of blood and sweat in his wake.

With every careful thrust, his body pressed more tightly against yours. The heat of your blood, your scent, the friction of his thighs against your hips, and the taste of your mouth sent him spiraling. He began to whisper again, soft mantras, barely audible between ragged breaths:

“I love you— You’re mine— I’ll put you back together— I swear— You’ll be whole— I’ll clean you— stitch you— worship you…”

His words were unraveling. His rhythm faltered, losing its precision as his desperation built. His mouth found your pulse, sucking gently at the skin, his hips moving faster now, grinding into you harder, needier.

And still, still, he never lost track of your vitals. One eye on the screen. One hand still resting near your surgical clamps. He was fucking you with every fiber of his being, but part of him remained the surgeon, the caretaker, the one who would never let you slip too far.

It only took his hips angling down just a bit for the head of his cock to slip from the valley of your wound into the folds of your intestines. The coils of organs housed his cock like they were meant for him, the warmth and deepness sucking him in hypnotically. Jack nearly snarled, your gasp loud as you both watched his cock slip in and out of your guts, each pass leaving the condom a deeper shade of red than the last.

He didn’t last another couple thrusts, the sensation absolutely breathtaking.

When he came, sudden, raw, tearing a broken sound from his throat, he locked his body over you like a man dying and being born in the same breath.

His mask was long gone. His blood-slicked face buried against your neck, he panted harshly, whispering, “I’ve got you— I’ve got you— Stay with me, sweetheart, stay awake— You’re okay— you’re okay…”

You felt the shift instantly from predator to protector. From desire to devotion.

He eased out of you with a groan, both of pleasure and urgency, already reaching for gauze, clamps, surgical thread. His hands moved fast now, gloved and shaking but trained, slipping back into medical command. He would sew you shut with the same reverence with which he split you open.

And all the while, he kept talking to you, even when your eyes grew heavy and your heart-monitor beeped just a little slower.

“You did so good… I’m gonna make it perfect, okay? I’ll clean every inch… You’re safe… I’ve never—never trusted anyone like this.”

And you knew, beneath the sweat, the blood, the trembling afterglow, he meant every word. That’s why, when your eyes finally shut, you didn’t fight it. Even when you heard muffled calls of your name.

── .✦

“A week??”

Jack nodded, stern.

“Love, come on, you can’t do this to me.”

“I can, will, and already have.”

Jack had turned your post-orgasm crash into a fucking hospital wing.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, watching him move around the room like a storm in latex gloves, reorganizing tools, labeling vials of your blood, adjusting dosage meters with that signature furrow between his brows.

The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, barely masking the copper tang that still lingered under Jack’s nails no matter how many times he scrubbed.

You lay flat on the medical cot, body bound by more tubes and machines than you could keep track of. A bag of saline hung above you, feeding steadily into your arm through a neatly taped IV. Two blood bags dripped slowly into the second line, another pump released a slow stream of antibiotics. The pressure monitor beeped softly with each stable beat of your heart.

“You lost two liters,” he replied sharply, not even looking up. “You’re on bed rest until your red cell count stabilizes. You were open, and you let me— We—” He paused, visibly tensing. “You’re lucky I was aware enough to stitch you before you passed out.”

“I didn’t pass out.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I moaned, Jack.”

He stopped, slowly turned to face you, arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression unreadable beyond the never-ending scowl.

“You are the most medically irresponsible human being I have ever met.”

You smiled sweetly. “And yet, I’m still your favorite patient. And you’re the one who agreed.”

He looked at you for a long moment, then sighed, finally stepping closer to the bed.

“You’re incorrigible,” he muttered, brushing your hair back gently. His hands, for all their violence and precision, were so soft now, fingertips moving across your temple, trailing along your jaw, checking your temperature like he always had.

“You stitched me up like a fucking Renaissance painter,” you teased. “Could at least let me walk around to show it off.”

“Out of the question. You’re not moving until your body starts producing again. Your hemoglobin is down, your BP is shaky, and if I catch you trying to stand—”

“You’ll what?” you smirked. “Strap me to the bed?”

Jack’s hand paused mid-adjustment on the IV regulator. Slowly, he turned his head toward you. There was that pause, the look he always gave you when he was trying to decide between scolding you or absolutely wrecking your shit.

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered.

You grinned wider, triumphant, but your body betrayed you with a groan as you shifted. Pain flared down your abdomen, a dull, bruising ache around the tight seam of fresh stitches.

Jack was on you in an instant, hand on your shoulder, pressing you back down.

“Easy,” he said, voice gentler now. “You’ll tear something. The internal stitches need time to settle. You’re not indestructible, even if you proxies like to act it.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you push it,” he snapped. “You’re mine. That means you heal right.”

You blinked, momentarily silenced by the possessiveness in his voice. Jack didn’t say things like that often, but when he did, he meant them.

“…Okay, Doc,” you murmured, reaching up weakly to curl your fingers around his. “You win.”

“I always do,” he said softly, entwining his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles. “Now shut up and let the IV do its job.”

You smirked as he leaned in to check the dressing on your incision, humming thoughtfully under his breath. For all his fussing, his touch lingered more than necessary, fingertips trailing your ribs, his mouth brushing your stomach just above the bandages.

“You know,” you said lazily, “if this is the treatment I get for letting you cut me open, I might volunteer more often.”

Jack gave you a flat look. “Don’t even joke about that.”

You laughed, drowsy now, drifting in and out beneath the buzz of medication. Jack pulled the blanket up over your hips and leaned onto the cot, careful not to jar the tubing. His arm traced across your chest, palm resting onto your heart to feel the steady beat underneath.

“You’re infuriating,” he murmured, already sounding more relaxed.

“And you’re obsessed.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, grinning. “I am.”

꩜ .ᐟ

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sturnmeovr · 8 months ago

Text

You Like Me? - Matt Sturniolo

Part Two Pairings; bsf!Matt x bsf!Reader Summary; After Chris & Nick convince Matt to go to a party with them, he overdoes it and has to carried home. The night ends in a silly drunken confession. Wc; 1458 Warnings; fluff 🥰 strong language, mentions of alcohol use, vomitting, A.n; This is my first imagine & third post. Check out my Matt & Chris hc!! All reactions are highly appreciated ❤️ Current Matt series - City of Love

"Chris, you have to hold him up," Nick complains to his brother. You guys were coming in from a fun night out, after finally convincing their introverted brother to tag along, with the help of yourself of course.

You fumbled with the key, trying to put it in the keyhole but failing once again.

"C'mon Y/n, this man is fucking dead weight back here," Chris groans. You look over your shoulder to see a flustered, yet aggravated expression etched across his face. Poor guy.

Matt overdid it and had way too many shots tonight which was odd because you'd think he would've been completely out of his comfort zone, making him not want to drink at all but it did the complete opposite. Little did you know the only reason he even came out tonight was because you were going to be there and he couldn't bear the thought of sitting at home alone, not knowing if another guy was flirting with you or not. That and he had plans to let the liquid courage help him confess his feelings for you tonight. The feelings he had been dying to tell you since the third month of your friendship, when he actually figured it out it wasn't just attraction he had towards you.

You felt bad seeing the boys struggle to hold him up, each one of Matt's arms draped over their shoulders as he lets all of his weight hang at his feet. You quickly mumble a sorry before successfully sticking the key in the keyhole and unlocking the door. You push it open, stepping aside so you aren't in the way, going in behind them and closing it.

"Birds of a feather, we should stick together," you hear your best friend sing as his brothers drag him down the hall to his room. You throw your head back laughing as you stumble out of your heels. Matt already threw up twice - once at the party and another time in the car. It was in serious need of a detailing this week.

"Oh my fucking-," you hear Nick shout from Matt’s bedroom, "gross!" His voice is quickly followed by gut wrenching gags from Matt, or maybe it was one of his brothers. All you knew is that someone was puking so you raced down the hall, your own drunken haze wearing you down causing you to go slower, stumbling over your own two feet.

You turn the corner of Matt's bedroom, seeing him slumped over his bedside trash bin, emptying his stomach, for the third time tonight. Your motherly instincts kick in and you make your way to him, rubbing his back as he continues to throw up. His body wasn't used to that much alcohol, he wasn't a drinker at all.

"Oh Matt," you coo, attempting to soothe him as he hurls. You look over at his brothers, both covered in Matt's throw up with disgusted looks on their faces. "Has he eaten anything?" concern laced through your voice, "his stomach can't handle all the alcohol he had to tonight. Go get a couple pieces of bread for him to eat," you order, hoping one of them will do as you say so you don't have to leave Matt's side. You had been through the exact same thing he was going through one too many times, so you knew exactly what he needed.

Nick rushes out of the room, coming back with a couple pieces of bread and a bottle of water. He sets it down on the nightstand and takes a few steps back, clearly concerned about Matt because he's not worried about being covered in puke.

You look over at him, "you should go get changed. I got him, he'll be okay," reassuring him. Chris stood in the doorway, "are you sure?" He takes a few steps forward and looks at Matt, "what if he has alcohol poisoning?"

"Alco-whaa?" Matt grumbles, lifting his head from the trashcan and falling back on the bed.

"He'd be way worse if he had that," you tell him, "trust me," before sitting Matt up and wiping his mouth. To no avail, he slumps over and hits his head on the headboard, groaning and throwing a hand up to cover the goose egg that's more than likely forming. You sigh, pulling him up again, this time propping him up with pillows. "Here," cracking the water bottle open and bringing it to his lips, "drink."

Matt takes a sip from the water bottle, looking at you with his eyes bleary from the inoperative state the alcohol had him in. You smile at him, taking the water bottle away and replacing it with a piece of bread, "eat it," nodding him on. He takes a big bite and chomps on it, making you giggle. You look at Chris and Nick, kind of like you're reassuring them he'd be just fine. It works and they go on their way to clean themselves up.

You watch has Matt still chomps on his bread, staring at you with ogle eyes, "you're so fucking pretty," his speech is still slurred but a lot clearer than before.

A blush creeps up on your face, "shut up, Matt. You're drunk."

"S'what," he slurs, a kool-aid smile stretched across his smile, "you're still gorgeous."

Over the last year and a half, you and Matt had been friends, and he never flirted with you. So, your immediate thought was it had to be caused by his intoxicated state.

"Shut up and eat your bread," you mumbled a bit embarrassed. Thank God Chris and Nick weren't in the room, they'd never let the two of you live it down. Standing up to set the water on his nightstand, Matt reaches his hands out to your thighs, pulling you towards him.

You squeal at the sudden contact, "Matt, what are you doing?!"

"Cuddle with me," he whines, making sure to keep a tight grip on the backs of your thighs, pressing his head to your stomach. You look down at him, pushing a piece of hair out of his face. Matt looks up with the biggest puppy dog eyes, "please."

How could you say no to that face? Yeah, you found Matt attractive, who didn't? But you never thought he'd have his arms wrapped around your waist, begging you to cuddle with him. After debating with your inner conscious for a second, you convince yourself the outcome couldn't be that bad. Nodding to Matt, "fine," pushing him back and crawling up next to him.

His arm snakes around your shoulder and you lay your head on his chest. The two of you stay frozen in time for a while and he finally looks down at you, "I really like you, Y/n."

You snicker, "go to sleep, Matt." You were definitely giving him shit about this in the morning.

"I'm not that drunk anymore," he tells you in a defensive tone before sitting up, making you sit up with him. What was this kid getting at? Confusion spreads across your face and your eyes search the room, almost like you’re for hidden cameras. "The water helped," you hear him say.

"So, what are you trying to say, Matt," you keep your tone quiet. Was he implying he had feelings for you? You two have been friends for a little a year and a half so this sudden confession had you struck for words. Matt had never indicated he liked you or even looked at you as anything more than friends. There were no signs. This was out of the blue for you.

"I like you," he hums, obviously still drunk but not as drunk as before. He was sobering up by the minute now that the bread was absorbing all the leftover alcohol in his stomach. He looks at you, leaning in, "just told you that, silly goose," and bops your nose with his index finger.

"Y-you like me?" you stutter, trying not to overreact, "since when?"

"Since forever, duh," he laughs. Usually Matt would be embarrassed to no end having confessed his feelings to you but his intoxicated state put him at ease, "ask anyone. They all know," he nods proudly.

You ran your finger through your hair, not believing what you're hearing. "You're gonna regret this in the morning, Matthew," you tell him, using his full government name so he knows you're serious.

"Nuh-uh," he argues, "that's the only reason I got this wasted tonight, so I'd finally tell you." His final confession leaves your jaw hanging wide open, "ask my brothers. They knew the plan," he giggles before falling back onto his bed and letting the liquor take over his system, sending him into a deep sleep.

Not my photos for dividers. All credit is due to original creators! ❤️

Wrote this while taking a hot bubble bath. 10/10 recommend.

First imagine so let me know what you think!! 💚

My requests are always open!

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uhhhj13iguess · 3 months ago

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peter parker x reader: roommates to lovers headcanons

tom!peter parker and fem!reader living together post high school (i really only used fem language in the last hc, the rest can be read however!)

masterlist and taglist!

you and peter moving into an apartment together during college at mit and becoming a thousand times closer than you were before, if that's even possible

your apartment would constantly be scattered with notes and textbooks from your late night study sessions, the air often filled with laughter at 3am when you're both nearly delusional from the lack of sleep

peter would be in and out at odd hours for his nightly patrols, and you always keep the window in the living room unlocked for him so he didn't wake you up pounding on the window to be let in at the ass crack of dawn (not that you found out from experience or anything...)

while he would try not to wake you, you'd grown to be a light sleeper, knowing most nights he would need help patching himself up. he would beg you to go back to bed, but you wouldn't have it, grabbing the sewing kit and helping him clean up

as shy as he is, I think we forget all too often how SASSY this man is, and he would get comfortable enough with you to snap back

"peter, holy shit you're bleeding!" "oh, is that what the red stuff is? really?"

peter isn't the cleanest roommate, but you never seem to mind picking up after him, knowing he's quite literally too focused on saving the lives of others. it also gave you an excuse to steal a sweatshirt now and then while picking up

speaking of, the first time peter came home from patrol and found you asleep on the couch in his sweatshirt, he nearly combusted

that night changed a lot of things in peter, seeing you in his clothes bringing his childhood crush on you out at an insane rate he just couldn't seem to bury anymore

peter can't cook to save his life, having had aunt may to take care of him up until moving in with you. you, on the other hand, loved to cook, especially for him. he would come home from class to find the apartment filled with the most heavenly scents, and all his stress would just disappear

the two of you would have routine movie nights, decking the living room out with a homemade fort and every single pillow/blanket you two owned. more often than not, you let peter pick what to watch, not able to resist the look of pure joy on his face as he queued up yet another star wars movie

these movie nights led to feelings beginning to fester in you as well, as halfway through, peter would be dead asleep and curled up into your side. sometimes he would fall asleep with his head in your lap as you played with his soft curls, and you couldn't imagine being anywhere else. you knew how hard he worked for everyone all the time, and being able to see his face in such a state of peace made your heart flutter (especially whenever he groaned at your touch in his sleep)

after about six months of living together, the vibes are genuinely unreadable. the lines between friends and more are wildly blurry, but neither of you would know how to say something, too happy in the bliss you were creating to mess it up by admitting your feelings (because what if they aren't reciprated? both dumbasses asked themselves while wrapped in each others arms on the couch)

tony, who comes to the apartment one day looking for peter, only to then see you walk into the room mid-conversation and establish the entire relationship for you

"oh, is this the girlfriend, kid?" "oh she's not, i mean we're not, i don't like, she's just my... roommate--" "I'm just your roommate?" "no! i mean, of course not, i just, we haven't, i mean i didn't-" "seems like this is a conversation i don't want to be here for. give me a ring after you're done with the misses, mkay?"

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 months ago

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hi !! i read the sleep hcs for ENA and then went on a tangent and found the other ENA stuff you wrote sommmm...

what are the reactions of the ENA's friends like Moony, the Shepard, Merci, Phindoll, etc. to ENA actually sleeping for the first time... and ENA + Y/N herself ofc?? <3

Omg hey! I've been reading your Ena writing too, and it's fantastic! Never stop <3

.....

Moony

As soon as she discovers you cuddling with a sleeping Ena, she initially believes she's dead.

"Dude..did you just kill my friend in cold blood????"

After you reminded her that she's experiencing sleep for the first time, she goes "ohhhh....okay. But I'm still mad at you for making me freak out like that."

Despite how it looks on the surface, Moony cares for her a lot--even to the point where she threatened you if you ever broke her heart...only to claim she was joking and didn't actually care what happened.

You know she does. She just has an odd way of simultaneously showing and hiding it.

But she'll admit that you've done a better job at handling Ena's emotions than she ever did.

Instead of ignoring them and hoping she'd go back to "normal", you validated her feelings and helped her calm down.

When she turned into her Full-Sadness form, you stayed with her even though it made you both late to the Great Runas' celebration.

As far as you introducing her to the concept of sleep, though? Moony doesn't really mind it too much. Only that it's weird to see Ena quiet and...not doing much of anything.

But it's helped with her mood regulation a lot, so...that's a big plus.

Shepherd

Every now and then, the Guardians were allowed to live out in the overworld, spending their lives how ever they wish until they were summoned for the next celebration.

For Shepherd, her work was never done, as she dwelled in a small conservatory where she could tend to her meadow, where hourglass dogs always found their way to her.

But one evening, she discovers an intruder laying in the middle of everything, and is thoroughly appalled when she recognizes her face.

"Ena? Oh no..not again.."

Not only did the same "troublemaker" barge in here, but she had the nerve to crush her flowers, too???

"Great Runas, give me strength. Show me a reason not to strike down this pest-"

"Shep! I'm so sorry! I was looking everywhere for her!" She hears your voice, and is relieved when you come to the rescue.

As one of the first Guardians you befriended, you would often bring lost hourglass dogs to add to her flock. Even buying them from auctions for the sole purpose of rescuing them.

During one conversation over turron, you mentioned being with Ena, and she almost spits out her drink.

Not that it's any of her business, and she doesn't outright say that you shouldn't be dating any Ena. But...she's confused on why and how you two got together, and still is to this very day.

She just watches you carry your girlfriend in your arms, only now realizing that she had been sleeping the entire time.

"That's odd. I thought her kind didn't require rest."

"Yeah, well..I decided to introduce that idea to her. But I probably should've mentioned that she can't just sleep anywhere." You give her an awkward smile.

"Hmph. When she awakens, tell her that she owes me an apology." Shepherd huffs, holding her crook. "My flowers are very delicate this time of year."

"I promise." You reassure, only to feel Ena snuggle her head against your shoulder to get more comfortable.

Her eyes haven't opened once, yet she sensed your presence instantly.

You smile sweetly, and Shepherd just blinks in astonishment.

Merci

She's just patrolling the Maze as usual, talking to you while you're trying to visit Moony, when she nearly trips over something.

But very quickly, you both realize it's someone.

"What??? Who is.....oh, Ena. Why did she come back???" She lightly nudges her side. "I told her this place was dangerous! Does she not have any brains left???"

"Hey, what did I say about insulting her?" You firmly reminded her. "We're together, remember?"

"....so you can make excuses for her being a hazard??" Merci's not pleased with you trying to defend Ena, but in that moment, she wakes up and is delighted to see you two.

"Merci, my good friend! [Y/n], my sweetheart! I had the most delightful dream!"

"Eh? So you sleep now? When did that happen?" is what the mime tells her.

But the only thing Ena hears is "Eh? So you sleep now? Did you have a good rest?"

"Indeed. Thank you!" Your polygonal girlfriend jumps to her feet. "My apologies. I couldn't find my way around and decided to stay put, knowing you'd come find me eventually." She grins, holding your hands. "Fun fact: did you know it's possible to cry until you're physically exhausted and lose consciousness?"

"Yeah, but...that's not really a fun fact." You shake your head. "Let's go see Moony. We'll catch you later, Merci."

The mime simply nods, although she finds it bizarre how and why you chose to be with Ena.

But she's not gonna question your decision too much. She's got more important things to worry about.

Phindoll

It was a quiet night, when you were cuddling with a drunken Ena who had fallen asleep, her head on your chest.

She had glitched into her "demon" form and for some reason was stuck that way as she passed out, but you didn't mind it at all.

You were just petting her horns, hearing barely-audible purrs emitting from her throat.

Then out of nowhere, your phone rings and you answer, hearing a certain laidback Guardian's voice on the other end.

"Hey, hey, hey!! How's that acutie of yours doin'? Haven't seen her in a minute."

"Oh! Phindoll? Hey...how are you able to call me from the desert?"

"Don't question it, beta buddy."

"True. I should know better. Um...do you mind keeping the volume down a notch? She's sleeping right now."

"Woaaaahhh...her journey to our Great Runas tuckered her out that much, huh?" He sounds amused. "It's understandable."

"Well it's her first time really sleeping. So.."

"No way, bro. That's insane. Is that why her moods get outta whack sometimes???"

"It's possible." You answered, glancing down at your girlfriend, who seemed to be stirring. But the moment you started petting her horns again, she settles down and lies still once more.

Eventually, Phindoll hangs up the phone to give you guys some peace and quiet.

You liked chatting with him, and you liked the fact that he supports you two being together.

And you're especially grateful he didn't put her through the "interview ritual"...which you knew nothing about except for the fact it involved violence.

#clanask #ena x reader #webseries ena x reader #headcanons #fluff #ena moony #ena phindoll #ena shepherd #ena merci

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likelysobbing · 2 months ago

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hiiiii can u do kk dating hcs please? btw you’re a really good writer!!!

𖥻 TRU-LY FRU-ITY. kk arnold x lowkeynpc!reader headcanons ! !!

synopsis: sol yaps about an npc reader and kk fallign inlove because sol loves kk so much to the point if she doesn’t watch herself (she does) it’s borderline parasocial. thx. kk dating headcanons but indepth.

notes: dawg i went crazy on this sorry about that nonnie i didn’t mean to make u wait so long… love u, btw. thank u so much 🤍 also that title was the only one i could think off STOP IT its so cute isnt it its SO cute

cw: it goes first meeting -> when kk and reader realize they’re inlove -> confession -> ACTUAL dating headcanons. i make stupid references to old lives. npc!reader is default reader because i want to keep this as general as possible. this is not proofread. i use 😝 emoji alot. also, i am crazy. OK LET’S GET IT STARTEDD 📣📣📣

let’s set the stage— say, you’re here, you’re queer, even—and you’re a student at uconn. but that’s… lowkey it. you’re a student at uconn, nothing particularly spectacular—you study, maybe you go out for drinks if you’re feeling a little brave, you do what you need to do to live. every day was routine—wake up, go with the flow, go to bed. you were fine with that. it just meant you … protected your peace too hard, and that’s a good thing! nothing’s out to get you, because half the time no one’s able to pair your face to a name. your life? it’s peaceful!

and then you happened to see kamorea ‘kk’ arnold drop a pen while she was walking through campus.

she was joking around with her friends, jumping around, acting silly, and forgot that her backpack was open. she was lucky she didn’t drop anything else. you happened to have seen that pen drop out of her bag, and initially you were going to ignore it. you wanted to get to class early, and maybe returning a pen to one of the most notorious extroverts on campus (who, even worse, has NOT seen your face) wasn’t a good idea if you wanted to be smart with your time.

and you didn’t know what came over you, but you picked up the pen and walked straight to her. she was mid-laugh when you tapped her shoulder, and she turned. “oh—“ she flinched, turning to you and muttering a small “yo.”

immediately, kk checked you out. and not in the way one usually would (the way you wished she was checking you out), but in a who-are-you-you’re-so-socially-dead-i-can’t-even-remember-your-face way. to spare yourself the small talk, you wasted no more time— “your pen,” you said, handing her her writing utensil. she looked at the pen as if it was suddenly spouting ink, blinking slowly. when she looked up? you were already walking away.

so basically, it was all the pen’s doing.

ever since that faithful encounter, it’s safe to say that kk began noticing you more. once just a blur of features in a crowd full of faces, you’re now the one she sees first. she sees you more often, and realizes that you’re in a lot of the same places at the same time. that intrigues her.

ice says something about it when she talks about you; they’re in the basketball facility warming up with the rest of the team, stretching a bit— making light, funny conversation on the way. the topic of people gets brought up, and kk mentions you. she’s yapping, “it’s like, she’s a whole wallflower or something—but she got friends! she got friends. just not a lot. and i been seeing her around lately, and we’re in alot of the same places so i’m like?? why i ain’t seen her here before?? so now im just wonderin’ what her deal is.” meanwhile, ice side-eyes her.

“have you talked to her yet?” ice asks, and the team looks to kk… who doesn’t even wanna talk no more after that.

eventually, she does end up talking to you. this time, she sees you drop your pen and comes running up to you—she sees an opportunity, but all you see is.. just her. and her eyes twinkling brighter than usual.

“yo, you dropped your pen this time,” she laughed, and you smiled awkwardly, gave her a little “thank you” and expected it to be done just like that.

it wasn’t.

you walked away and she ran to your side, and then she just… started talking. she didn’t even introduce herself formally. she just said ‘i’m kk, by the way,’ which wasn’t a problem, because you already knew she was more than that. this was kamorea arnold. uconn basketball star, the lovely little burst of energy, the happy little—aaandd she just stumbled on the shell of a snail.

“oh, i’m sorry y’all— sorry y’all, sorry y’all—“

you didn’t even know who she was talking to. there was only you and the snail. and then you realized she was talking to you and the snail, which is why she was saying ‘y’all’.

and that was when you knew you were in for it. and… lowkey into her.

okay set up done!

kk and you really hit it off. turns out, you didn’t need to speak much for her to speak. kk just needed to know you were listening. and you showed her you did— you hummed at the right time, you laughed at the funniest jokes, you grinned in confusion when she spoke about basketball (which led to a very passionate ramble about basketball), you gasped at every twist, you did all the right things—but …

pair kk’s lovely personality, her beautiful laugh, her eagerness to speak to you and just… her in her entirety? banger combination.

you did all the right things, but you fell at the wrong time. you fell hard, for her.

you didn’t know she fell harder.

like, literally and figuratively. i think it’d be funny that kk once thought her eyes lingering too long on your lips, her hands twitching to hold your own or to even touch your skin was completely borne of platonic attraction or festering romantic attraction that she could move on from. her epiphany that she is inlove with you comes during half time. she’s in the zone, sipping from her lil water bottle, and then she finds her eyes wandering throughout the stands. she doesn’t know why— she just finds herself looking for a certain… devoted pen returner. she realizes you’re not there, and that you’re probably studying, and that makes her pout.

she wants your eyes on her. she wants you to look at her, to see her in her element, maybe to see her catch a little attitude—but she wants you to see her. she wants you to see her!

or maybe she just wants you.

it’s something she comes to terms with in the middle of a crowd so loud that the voice in her head can’t echo against it’s confines. she wants you. it’s clear, resolute—and absolutely exhilarating.

it horrifies her, don’t get her wrong; she didn’t see it coming, nor did she expect it to be so strong the moment she realized, but that’s also whats so exhilarating. love is so unexpected!

regardless, even with all her spunk, kk hesitates. she doesn’t necessarily stop yapping your ear off, but it’s like her words get more calculated—she pauses more, and when you look to see if she is still mentally present, you find yourself locking eyes with her before she shakes her head and talks about another topic. you catch her staring a good twenty or more times in the span of three days and you start to get a little… suspicious…

but you stay, anyway. because why wouldn’t you? she’s cool.

she’s so cool.

and then the sun so bright happens.

it’s not anything big—it happened so spontaneously; kk didn’t plan anything. as soon as you asked why she was even here, it just slipped out. and it worked.

kk asked you to be her girlfriend with a hand on top of yours and what might have been the first shy smile you ever saw from her. she said, and i quote, “so are we… you know like, you know..” and you just had to tilt your head and make her say it.

“bro. bro—“ this girl is such a wuss she can’t even look you in the eye and yet…

“no, no because— what are we? what do you want us to be?” you STAY insufferably oblivious on PURPOSE lmfao.

“broOohmygee… can i . be your girlfriend.”

“of course, k.”

BOOM SHAKALAKA YES LORD YOU BAGGED FYNE SHYTTT 😝 now onto the actual dating headcanons!!

early into the relationship she starts out how she treated you whilst you were still friends, but with the little quirk that you’re going out on dates now, she grins whenever she talks about you to a degree it’s concerning, and she invites you out to her games. and she’s also shy when it comes to romantic affection.

but let’s say you’re long past that awkward phase now.

kk’s an extrovert, always jumping around from place to place—sharing laughter with people, filming tiktoks, living her best life. she’s also, lowkey, famous. there is not a game in which she isn’t signing someones shirt after, and you know because you’ve checked. meanwhile, you are just a student trying to get by at uconn…

but! to kk, you’re everything. it’s why no matter how extroverted she is, if you’re more on the introverted side—she’d love you all the same and adapt to your needs; need to leave a party? done, maybe kk will stay back a bit—you understand she needs to have her fun— but she’ll call an uber for you, keep updates on your location via the life 360 circle you guys have labelled ‘completely platonic relationship’ (you do not have a completely platonic relationship).

she’s quite protective—she doesn’t keep her eyes off the life 360 map until she sees you’ve arrived back at the dorms (which she, silly as she is, has labelled as ‘homebase’ in your circle). whenever you’re out, kk texts you at random times to see if you’re still out there and safe. it’s not even a ‘proof of life?’ sometimes its just a picture of the tru fru she got and all you really need to do is respond “yummy”

she always has a hand on you. waist, hips, shoulder, back of your neck, whatever it is— she has to feel you next to her when she knows you’re next to her. she’ll be on her phone in one hand, and you’ll be leaning into her shoulder and she just pulls you in closer (#nonchalant while doing it to. but in her head she’s going hehehehehehhehe😝😝)

outside of that she’s not all that affectionate. she’ll have a hand on your waist, but its really all about whether or not you lean in. she’ll always reciprocate your affection but won’t make a move to initiate it in public. in private, however, you know this girl lays on top of you and sleeps. she don’t move. she’s on top of you, in a star fish position, with her eyes closed.

in private she’s all hugs and making grabby hands at you because she can get a bit needy. she’ll probably do random things to catch your attention, and then just ask for a kiss when she has you.

“kk, what the hell—“ you jumped, eyes widening at the sudden influx of tru fru bags on your bed. kk shrugged, unblinking before crawling onto your bed herself, “they were on sale.” she murmured, “‘kay,” before inching closer to you—“give me kisses.”

i feel like kk would also spoil you but in the stupidest way. like you guys would genuinely get into arguments over who would pay and kk would be breaking her wrist pushing your hand down and forcing the cashier to take her cash.

“come on, kk, you paid last time—“

“i don’t REMEMBER. last time. …. let me pay.”

and sometimes she will literally shove your hand back onto your side and slam her card/ cash down onto the register. im not playing. like she doesnt even fight you on it the moment you try to take out your wallet she grips your wrist and pays before you can even get money out

but don’t get me wrong— kk likes to be pampered. sometimes she’ll let you pay—when she does, she sticks her tongue out and giggles and kicks her feet like 😝😝😝 ayeeeeeee…… or sometimes she does that little thing where she gives you a backhug and kisses your cheek do you people know what im talking about. its so funny to me. shes like ‘thank you🥰’

but she prefers to be pampered in a different way! she likes to be considered, for lack of a better word. she likes it when you give her the warm-hot cookies from crumbl because you know she doesn’t like cold cookies, she likes when you leave her tru fru ALONE, she likes when you come to her games and do your best to get a front row seat — she looooves. LOVES. when you consider her, and what she might want. everytime she sees you she’s like that one “ariana what are you doing here ?! 😆” meme shes so jolly my woman bro my woman

also she probably refers to you as ‘my baby’, or ‘my girl’, or maybe like ‘my lady’ if she’s feelin’ a bit lovey dovey. if we’re talking about endearments, i don’t think kk would be a ‘ma’ or ‘mama’ girl. she’d be like, ‘bae’, ‘baby’, ‘schnookums’, ‘pookie!’ even. sometimes when she’s soft she’ll call you ‘lover’. in terms of what you call her, there’s the obvious ‘kk’ and what other usual endearments you use, but kk melts whenever you use ‘baby’ I KNOW IT I KNOW IT GUYS IM PUSHING THE ‘kk loves being babied’ AGENDA LEAVE ME ALONE

the type of girlfriend to put bunny ears behind your head during photos and make you look goofy. she says you look cute, but you’re always cute to her so don’t trust that

the type of girlfriend to point at you whenever she scores a point. also the type of girlfriend to point at you whenever she thinks she’s about to score, and if she misses she’s like… “i’ma walk that off, y’all… i’ma walk that off…”

she’s so lovely 💔

she doesn’t necessarily speak ABOUT you a lot to the team, but she makes such frequent references she might as well just ramble about you forever. she genuinely doesn’t mean to. you’re like the only thing constantly on her mind. i know paige grills her for it too zon’t play… also, ICE. ice gets at her for it. everyone bugs her in their own ways because they don’t know you personally so they’re like “who’s she? who’s your girl?” and kk’s like “my girl’s my girl…? duh”

“you really can’t go a day without yappin’ about her huh, kk?” paige drawled, slumping against the gym bleachers as she nodded towards uconn’s #2, who was … minding her business. prior to the statement, paige was simply talking about how hot it was outside, and how connecticut is never usually this hot and ‘that says a lot’ and miss kamorea arnold just butts in like: “my girl said it was really hot out too. that’s why i decided to go light on my fit, if that’s the right word. light .. or like whatever y’all wanna call it…”

it’s ALWAYS an ‘oh, my girl—‘ with her i swear. but! despite their annoyance with kk always mentioning you, the team meeting you would be a fun event! trUST. trust. truuust. no teasing whatsoever involved.

— on kk’s mood swings or sadder moods, she wouldn’t wanna go to you at first, scared that you might end up making it worse without meaning to or she’ll say something out of pocket, but the moment you come to her alone, when she tries to isolate herself? when you open your arms and just walk towards her? when she finds herself melting into you, hands on your hips, lips to the space between your shoulder and neck and there is just love and nothing but love in the air? regardless of whether you say something to her or not, you didn’t even have to say anything. you don’t need to. kk still knew then. you got her locked in with you, and hard.

kk always seems to shine a little brighter with you. (haha reference to my old fic im hilarious)!

the publicity of the relationship? not very public. infact it’s giving private but not secret. she doesn’t post you lots but she tags you enough for the fandom to know shes off the market fs. i feel like kk, as silly and goofy as she is, is a very private person and this would extend towards you. it’s like she doesn’t put you in the spotlight because she doesn’t want to overwhelm you with the sting of the light.

but that’s okay, because kk’s your sunshine, and so long as she keeps her own light— her own hands— on even a patch of your skin? aslong as you’re still hers? there is no doubt in your, or her, mind that together is what you are meant to be, and here— whereever here is— is where you are meant to stay.

tl;dr sol loves kk so bad

@likelysobbing.

#kk arnold x reader #kamorea arnold #kk arnold #kamorea arnold x reader #uconn #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #uconn x reader #uconn huskies #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #kk arnold uconn #I LOVE KK ARNOLD #ice brady

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jupiter-esque · 1 year ago

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Hi!!! I saw that you write for Howls and I was wondering if we could get some hcs in how his so cares for him? Whether that be after a tough day physically or mentally or silly pampering him. How does Howl want and receive his comfort?

Preen

note: sort of went on an unofficial hiatus lol, but im finally on holiday yippee :)))) anyway i'm sure I've done this sort of request or smth before but I just love howl so much, he deserves all the love mwah <3

Warnings: nthn, just clingy howl and lots of sickening fluff.:3

Howl Pendragon x reader

It feels like the exhaustion is trying to imbed itself within his bones.

Howl struggles past the front door, His feet dragging as the castle door close with a resounding ding! signaling a new and hopefully much more calming scenery outside. He can't think of that now though.

bed, sleep, rest..now...

he could topple over at any moment.

The aroma of hot savory onion soup overtook his senses, he could almost feel the heady warmth of the liquid down his throat, burning away the worries and hardships of the day leaving him sated and drowsy. He could barely wait.

"Oh no you don't." Suddenly, soup didn't seem all that important.

Nimble fingers slip past his shoulders, pushing away his coat and fussing with its buttons. Howl's eyes landed on you blearily as he called out your name dreamily while reaching for you, his fingers smoothing out over any exposed skin he could reach and nuzzling into your blushing neck.

"Missed you." He mumbles quietly, his breath tickling you slightly. He pulled you in tighter as if trying to carve himself into you, trying to mold your bodies and souls into one. Too bad your offending apron and clothes prevented him.

"Poor baby." You coo as you brush through his hair, fingers carding through messily strewn strands and pressing into worn out muscles. "Okay time for a bath, then dinner."

"Nooo diner-"

"No, c'mere." You grinned with an air of finality, ushering him up the stairs ensuring he doesn't try flopping onto the cushy sofas in front of a grumbling calcifer, you're too used to his tricks and it comforts him to fall into your familiar routine. You sneak some more wood to the fire demon, a silent promise from his side to keep the thick onion soup bubbling and the bathtub upstairs equally toasty.

************************

Howl's staring into the soapy water, helplessly letting you wash his hair and scrub the grime off his skin, occasionally he plays with your free hand. you're both so very naked, so very vulnerable yet peacefully cleaning and gently caring for each other. A silly smile overtakes his lips as he remembers his flirtatious attempt for more...unorthodox intentions while you rolled your eyes and cheekily pushed him into the tub.

It should feel like a snug fit in the tub but magic has its perks and you're both settled into a pool of bubbles that would comfortably fit around three to four people. Howl shivers once more while you splashed water onto his richly dark hair. It hung limply over his eyes as you rubbed his back and pressed deliciously into his taught tendons, it took everything in him to not wantonly moan into your ear so he only let soft ragged breaths escape him as he gripped at your palms where you were sat behind him.

He could feel your smirk. You truly were his undoing.

Just as howl was about to let his eyes fall close and sleep to overtake him you pushed at his shoulders and complained loudly.

"Bath time is over you big oaf, get off i cant breath!"

Howl immediately saw his opening to tease you.

"I don’t know” He airly replied, slumping further into you while pretending to sleep and become dead-weight on top of your struggling form “It’s so comfortable here, I could just rest for a while~”

“Howl.” You warned.

“You wouldn’t mind right?”

You tugged at his hair with slight harshness

“Ouch!”

“Out! You’re clean. Now stop pouting.”

************************

Finally in fresh night-clothes, bellies full of soup and crunchy buttery toast, you're longing for sleep but the need to be in each others presence is stronger so you move to the living room in front of calcifer's hearth as he grumbles away about how much work he does around the castle. Howl shushes him with more firewood while you tuck little Markle to bed, before returning to cuddle up on the loveseat with a blanket wrapped round to stay cozy.

Eventually you find yourself preening through Howl's nearly-dry hair again whilst he settles his head against your chest and the rest of his body lays between your open thighs with his back facing you. All is quiet for a moment, only calcifer's crackling and your calming breaths fill the room as you rub at his scalp and untangle stray locks when a thought strikes you.

"Howl, dear."

"Hmm?" He hums tiredly letting one eye open.

"You know, you're a lot like a bird." You put a finger over his lips before he starts scowling about his more beastly raven-like form " In the sense that you always like your hair played with, a lot like how birds like their feathers preened. Especially by their bird partner."

You smiled down at him openly, he couldn't help but smile back.

"Oh? So that makes you my bird partner now, doesn't it?" He had one eyebrow raised while peeking up at you.

"Of course." You grinned, playing along.

"We'd make wonderful Swans then." He said with a serious expression.

"Why is that?" You blinked curiously, wondering why he was reaching closer for your face.

"Because they mate for life.''

and he followed his silent promise with a deep kiss.

BONUS:

“You know, I think you’d make for a wonderful peacock instead. Show off.” You muttered

“Quiet now, you love me.”

:))))

#bye im literally melting into a cringy puddle of love #fluff #howl pendragon x reader #howl's moving castle #howl jenkins pendragon #howl x reader #my favorite wizard himbo #he's so silly <3 #when will it be my turn :((#pls tell me you understood that i lowkey set them up for a spiderman kiss #cuz i barely know how to write character positionings

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clandestineivory · 1 year ago

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What type of yandere do you think the Ancients would be if they were one

Thank you for the idea anon <3

Yandere Ancients x Reader

Summary: Oh, lookie, lookie here! It seems that you've managed to charm each and every ancient into loving you dearly...a bit too dearly perhaps. But that's just how they show their affections, right? Maybe that one cookie you were talking to the other day is alright and well and not dead in a closet?

TW: Stalking, manipulation, murder, threatening, not beta read and has never done yandere hcs before. Have fun pookies :D

(It goes from least scariest yandere to most)

REMEMBER WHAT I SAID WHEN I HAD NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE 😭

Hollyberry Cookie

She's definitely attached to you, thats for sure.

You know love bombing? Make it like she's sending a tactical nuke right towards your heart.

She's very clingy, but would allow you to go and do things on your own, you just have to tell her what you did and where you went. Oh, and who exactly you were with.

Hollyberry would never lay a finger on you in a harmful way. Why would she if she knows you'll never want to hurt her affectionate and adorable heart?

Golden Cheese Cookie

She treasures you much, much more then any piece of gold or glittering item she could ever create in her kingdom. The kingdom would be worthless without you in it.

Golden Cheese would stalk you and your every move, sometimes even commanding the marzipan cookies to follow you and photograph your day.

Talking to someone that wasn't the Golden Sovereign? Consider them gone, turned to dust in mere seconds.

She's a goddess! Why would you not want to worship her as much as she does to you..?

It would almost make her sad. Luckily, her best option is to make you do it.

And how could refuse such godly words and beautiful voice?

White Lily Cookie

She’s certainly worse then most of the Ancients. White Lily may just keep you inside the Faerie Kingdom at all times, perhaps even convincing Elder Faerie to keep you under house arrest. Although, she wouldn’t tell you specifically…

White Lily always had her eyes on you, the way you smiled at her words, how you hold her close and say how much you love her.

And she’ll convince you almost every time that you need her.

How could you refuse such a sad and pouty face she makes every time you want to doubt her? It’s almost pitying.

Knowing her goals and past, she would want you to reassure her that you love her, no matter what.

No matter what.

Dark Cacao Cookie

He CANNOT lose you. Anything that you do must be monitored.

Hell, he may even want to use Affogato Cookie’s old spells to keep you under his watch, all agreeable and soft..

He has threatened you once or twice whenever you try to question his judgement, saying stuff like:

“My love, don’t fret. I’m only protecting you.”

But your fears and suspicions were confirmed after one of the Watchers you were talking to suddenly went missing the next day. All you did was say hello and made small talk…

You knew he lost a lot, of course he had the right to be protective over you.

Except being so overprotective and going so far as to…eliminate someone out of sheer jealousy?

You had caused this situation. This was worse then what Affogato Cookie did to the King, because you were doing it completely on accident.

So, to stop hurting anyone else, you just…accepted his love, remaining safe and unharmed within the citadel, avoiding everyone in case of another accident.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

He was supposed to be a pure soul. Someone who’d never do anything horrible or wrong…

Yet when he met you, he instantly got attached. Why? Not even he could explain. You just had some sort of connection with him that made Pure Vanilla love you so dearly.

He definitely hurt you while you were sleeping once or twice, and the feeling of watching you thank him after healing you was…exhilarating.

His habits started from little cuts on your legs to full blown “love” bites and deep cuts on your arms and hands.

At first, you didn’t realize it was him, but after becoming concerned by how much it was happening, you decided to pretend sleeping and wait until something happened.

And it was an understatement that you were shocked.

It was more…terrifying, honestly.

And when you confronted him? He practically almost broke down crying, pulling on your clothes and begging for forgiveness and that he wouldn’t do it again.

Oh, how a King fell so far from purity, nobody will know.

Because after this incident, you forgave him. Surely he was going to stop? You loved him after all, of course he wouldn’t do it again..

And he didn’t. The reason? It’s because you’ve started to lose sleep now. At a concerning point…

Was that coffee in the air? No, just vanilla, as usual…

#crk headcanons #cookie run kingdom #hollyberry cookie #dark cacao cookie #golden cheese cookie #pure vanilla cookie #white lily cookie #writers on tumblr #x reader #yandere

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pomefioredove · 1 year ago

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Hi! This is very very specific, but…I've had a rough start to my day today, kinda relating to the topic of my request…

So I was wondering, would it be alright to request HCs of Jamil, Ruggie, Leona, Floyd and Rollo with a Reader who runs into an emotionally abusive/manipulative parent they haven't seen in a long time? The kind of subtle abuse that's hard to tell (from the inside, at least) is even abuse at all, and makes you doubt yourself a lot. Kinda narcissistic abuse

Kind of a hurt/comfort thing? Like how they'd deal with the bad parent and the Reader opening up a bit about it. Romantic or platonic, either one is good

Feel more than free to ignore if this kind of request isn't your thing: that's totally fine, I understand it's a bit heavy, not to mention very specific, so please do what makes you feel best. I hope you have a good day!

ahhh of course! I relate to this sort of thing a lot (although I don't use terms like narcissistic abuse since abuse is just abuse to me) and I know exactly what you mean. I love hurt/comfort and you're well within my boundaries since the only thing I wouldn't write pertaining to this topic is intimate partner abuse (like with an s/o). so you're perfectly fine! I enjoyed writing this <3

summary: comforting a reader with an abusive parent type of post: short fics characters: jamil, ruggie, leona, floyd, rollo additional info: reader is not specified to be yuu ("shrimpy" is used as a nickname during floyd's part tho), reader is gender neutral, food mention (ruggie's part), actual interaction w the parent happens during leona and rollo's parts, mentions/descriptions of emotional abuse, although reader is kinda vague about it

Jamil Viper

Jamil knows what it's like to feel stuck.

That's really all he has to know when he recognizes that look on your face.

Perhaps you usually wear your heart on your sleeves, or perhaps you're better at keeping your emotions to yourself, like him, but either way he can tell something is very wrong the second he sees you.

It's a bit strange, isn't it?

Surrounded by people in the cafeteria and yet no one seems to notice the shadow cast over you.

He tries to talk himself out of it for the rest of the day. He has enough on his plate as it is, and it's not his problem. He's Kalim's keeper, not yours.

But that sense of unease doesn't go away.

He drags himself out of bed and somehow finds himself at your door in the dead of night.

And even though it takes you a moment to answer, he can tell you were already awake.

"Here," he says, handing you a warm meal in a container. "I noticed you didn't eat today. We had leftovers."

You don't feel very much like eating, but you accept the gift, anyway. It smells amazing. His cooking always does.

"Thank you," you mumble.

You can't think of anything else to say.

"Are you... well, Kalim sent me to ask if you're feeling unwell," he lies through his teeth.

"I'm fine,"

Another lie, this time of your behalf, which annoys him ever-so-slightly.

"You're clearly not. Are you sick?" the question is vague enough, said in such a way that leaves you with the impression that he wasn't exactly referring to a physical illness.

"I've... had a rough day,"

Jamil is quiet for a moment, thinking to himself. And then: "Do you mind if I come in?"

He's always so careful with his words that such a direct (yet polite) request almost catches you off guard. You step to the side, letting him in your room.

"I don't mean to pry. I know it's not my place," he says, watching you close the door. "But... Kalim is worried. Yes."

You shake your head. "It's fine. I'll get over it,"

It.

What did "it" mean? Surely this couldn't just be a lousy day.

"Did something happen?"

You hesitate.

"Have you ever... ran into someone who made your life miserable? That you thought you moved on from... and it starts to feel like you're stuck in that place all over again?"

Of course. Of course he knows what that feels like.

He has to live through that exact experience every day, without even being able to move on.

But he can't just say that. And this is about you, after all.

"I'm familiar with the feeling. I suppose that's what's ruined your day, then?"

"That's one way to put it," you sigh, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Sometimes it feels like all the progress I've made is just... null. Like I'll never really move on."

He hates how much he's relating to you. How much you're affecting him, now, too.

He follows you to the bed and sits beside you.

"Someday, though, you will. It may feel hopeless now, but... you won't stay stuck forever,"

Unlike me, he thinks.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can't be. But you don't strike me as someone to give up after hardship,"

Like me.

You're quiet for a moment, seemingly considering what he told you. And then you hug him.

A nice, soft hug. Not abrasive or sudden like the ones Kalim gives. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Thank you, Jamil,"

He hugs back. "Of course,"

Ruggie Bucchi

It was almost painful, watching you fumble with your wallet like that.

You couldn't seem to get the proper amount out, shaking like a leaf and apologizing profusely. Sam keeps telling you it's okay, but the line forming behind you is starting to grow restless.

Ruggie included.

He has places to be, after all, and he's got two whole crates of energy drinks to lug back to Savanaclaw.

He has half a mind to ask what the holdup is.

And so, he peers over your shoulder, ready to- oh, no. You're crying.

Damn it. Why can't things ever be easy for him?

He can't even chew someone out for taking up all his precious time without being thrown a curveball. And now he feels bad.

Sigh.

"Hey, I got this," he says, setting his heavy crates down on the counter and flashing a card.

Your eyes widen. "Oh, no, Ruggie, you don't have to-"

"Relax, it's Leona's money, not mine," he offers a grin, ignoring the tears trailing down your face. "He won't even notice it's missing."

The line behind you two breathes a collective sigh of relief (much to your embarrassment) and Ruggie shoots them a glare.

"I... I still can't accept this-" you start, before he quickly shushes you.

"Hey, if you wanna make it up to me, you can help me carry these things. I'll call it even,"

You're silent for a moment as Sam finishes ringing you both up, and then you take a crate. As quiet as ever. It's unnerving.

You're walking back to the Hall of Mirrors when Ruggie breaks that silence by bringing up your purchase. "So, what's up with the afternoon snack? Not that I'm judging- I'm jealous. I skipped lunch, shishishi,"

"Oh, it's nothing," you mutter. "Comfort food, I guess."

The concept of comfort food is extremely appealing to him. "Huh. Long day?"

"Something like that... Why'd you skip lunch?"

Trying to change the conversation topic? Clever. But he'll bite, anyway.

"Leona forgot some of his class stuff, so I had 'ta run and get it. Too bad he forgot where he left it... I was all over campus,"

"Did you find it?"

"Eventually. Or else I'd be busy getting my neck wrung instead of 'bein here with you,"

You nod, and the conversation swiftly dies.

After another awkward beat, he clears his throat. "So you... you wanna talk about it, or something?"

"What?"

"You know, your... your day," he mutters, shrugging. He's desperately trying to remember all of the things his grandma did for him when he was upset as a child. "Talking about it might... make 'ya feel better, y'know?"

You're quiet again, and for a moment Ruggie is worried he said something to offend you.

Then, much to his relief, your voice picks up. "I ran into someone today,"

"What? Like someone was giving you trouble?"

"No, not a student. Someone I don't see very much anymore. Um... I guess it just threw me off,"

He tilts his head to the side. "Why?"

"I don't... well, we don't get along very much. Something about them just makes me feel... very... small. Insignificant,"

You don't ask if he understands what you mean, but he does. Not that he'd ever admit that so openly to you at a time like this, but being small and insignificant is basically his job.

And as much as he likes the perks, he can imagine how rough it would be to deal with that and not get to use a bottomless credit card whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He struggles to respond for a moment.

"That's rough,"

Definitely not the sympathetic response he was going for. At least you don't seem to mind.

"I-I mean, sometimes we have to act small to survive. It's a part of life, 'ya know? But that doesn't mean you are small. Just surviving on its own is an accomplishment," he recovers from his earlier blunder, trying to smile. "You should be proud of yourself, if anything."

"That's..." you say. "That's one way of looking at it."

He sighs. "I'm not expressing myself very well, am I? What I'm trying to say is that you're not small or insignificant, and living life feeling like you are is a survival tactic at best,"

The both of you stop in front of Savanaclaw, and he offers another grin.

"And if you ever wanna talk about this stuff... well, I'm around... And you can come inside now, if you want. I could definitely find more stuff to carry!"

Leona Kingscholar

Leona Kingscholar is very, very much enjoying parent weekend alone, thank you.

Of course his folks don't want to attend a school event for their disappointment of a second son. Why would they care? And on Cheka's birthday weekend, no less...

But that didn't bother him. Not at all.

As long as he slept through the weekend without being bothered by any happy-go-lucky nuclear family units, he'd live.

That plan lasts about five hours.

"You'd be better off doing something more useful with your time. Sports, or science, or... something that might help your future. But if you're so sure... I suppose it's better to cut our losses now than put any more faith in you. You just can never decide, can you?"

That voice. Unfamiliar, but drawling, laced with poison. Aggravating enough to stir Leona from his nap in the botanical gardens.

And it's getting closer.

"I just don't understand. Why get accepted into one of the most prestigious schools in the world just to spend your time goofing off?" a long sigh. "But as long as you're happy... we just want what's best for you."

Leona grumbles, turning over and trying to drift back to sleep.

"I'm trying,"

This voice is different. No- he recognizes it. It's yours.

"Are you? You know I know what's best for you, right?"

Sevens. This is your parent speaking to you? No wonder you've been acting all jittery lately.

He sits up, giving up on his nap, and continues listening in.

"I know," you say. "I really am trying, though."

"Did I say you weren't? Don't speak for me,"

This is getting ugly. Leona stands, stepping out of the shrubbery and clearing his throat behind the two of you.

You're the first to turn. "Oh- Leona! Sorry, we didn't mean to disturb you,"

"You're fine," he snaps, sharp eyes turning to your parent beside you. "Who's this, then?"

"This is-"

"Their parent," they go ahead and introduce themselves, cutting you off as if you weren't speaking at all. Like you're a piece of furniture hanging in the background. He's not a fan.

"Really? From the way you were talking, I would have guessed that you were their coach. Or boss,"

Your eyes dart between the two. "Leona-"

"You're fine," he reaffirms. "I was just looking for you, anyway. We really have to talk."

You pause, raising an eyebrow. He? Wants to talk to you? Now?

"Is it important?" your parent asks. The question is directed at you, although he answers.

"Very. I was just coming to ask you, very politely, I might add, to reconsider my offer,"

"Your... offer...?"

Your parent looks down at you. "What's he talking about?"

"Can't blame you for forgetting. I'm sure you're busy with all your... school... things. But I do have to ask you to rejoin the spelldrive club. We're in shambles without you,"

He gives you a certain look, one that clearly reads "Go along with it."

Leona Kingscholar offering an olive branch to someone is a rare occurrence. So you take it.

"Oh! Right, I have been busy with school. I've been meaning to get back to you..."

Your parent looks between the two of you with just the faintest hint of confusion, and then frustration. "You've been playing spelldrive? When was I going to hear about this?"

"They haven't been playing with us," Leona says, a small smirk already forming. "They're the team manager. They're way too smart to be out on the field- no, they're running the team, they're organizing everything, their strategy is like nothing we've ever seen. If only they were in Savanaclaw, we might have a chance at winning one of these years."

"Uhhh..." you start, looking between your parent and the oddly friendly and receptive clone that's replaced Leona. "...Yeah, right."

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we really have to discuss official club matters," he says, shooing away your parent until they eventually give in and leave.

As soon as they're out the door, you turn to him. "What w-"

"Are you alright?" he asks.

Stunned would be an understatement. "I'm fine,"

"Really? Cause you're looking at me like a gazelle caught in headlights,"

"I-I guess it's just been hard... having them here,"

Leona nods, closing his eyes as he thinks to himself. Then, he sighs.

"Yeah. I get that. Come on, then,"

You raise an eyebrow as he starts off in the opposite direction. "What? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet and warm to nap. Being around that person sucked all the energy right out of me, I can't imagine how exhausted you feel,"

He turns to look over his shoulder with a smile. "With any luck, we'll avoid them for the rest of the weekend,"

Floyd Leech

Of course, he can tell something's up right away.

Well... maybe it takes him a little while to tune into the conversation, but once he does, he notices you've been... awfully quiet throughout it.

His favorite little shrimpy? All sad? Moping around like a kicked puppy?

Now this catches his attention.

"Bored?" he asks. It's his first guess.

"Hm?" you ask, looking back at him. "No, I'm fine."

"But you're not,"

"Okay, I'm a little distracted,"

Now that, he can understand. But there's still something very off about the whole thing that he can't quite put his finger on.

"You're not telling me something," he states, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

You raise an eyebrow. "...And?"

"And I wanna know. I'm not letting you leave until you tell me,"

Your thought process is probably ranging somewhere between "oh, no," and "oh NO," by now.

"I sweaaar, it's nothing," you insist. "I just had a bad day, okay?"

"Why?"

There's no turning back now. He's invested, and until he loses interest, you're stuck here.

"It was... just... long. Can I go now? I have things to do,"

He frowns, and stands, and then puts you in a headlock. "Alright, where're we 'goin?"

"FLOYD!"

He drags you along with him, remembering not to be too rough as he takes you from place to place on his dailies. You begrudgingly learn to accept it.

When you walk back into the Mostro Lounge, Azul and Jade don't even bat an eye.

"You're thirty minutes late- ah, why do I bother?" Azul says, rifling through a stack of papers on his desk. He only looks up when he catches a glimpse of you. "Oh. Hello, there."

You wave half-heartedly. "Can I get some help?"

"Floyd. What is the meaning of this?" he asks.

Floyd pouts. "There's 'somethin wrong with them and they won't tell me what,"

"Are they ill?"

You lower your eyes at the two as they speak like you're not even there. "Hello?"

"Nah, they feel fine. They're all mopey, though,"

Azul hums to himself, lost in thought. And then: "Well, figure out what it is, and get to work, if you please,"

"Azul!" you shout. He ignores you.

Floyd drags you back outside the office and sits down with you at one of the tables, waving to concerned lounge-goers as they pass by.

"Now will you tell me?"

"Geez, alright, alright. I give up, you win," you sigh. "I... well, my parent was here earlier. At school. And we talked, and they... said some not-very-nice things to me. That's why I've been upset, okay?"

Floyd's smile immediately drops. "I win? But that's not a very good prize,"

"Tell me about it,"

"Why would anyone be mean to you, anyway? You're the best shrimpy I know!"

You avert your eyes. "It wasn't... mean... per se. Just... not nice,"

"Sounds mean to me," he mutters. "I don't get it."

"Well, sometimes these things just... don't make sense. It's my fault, anyway," you sigh.

His gaze sharpens at that. "'An who told you that? You didn't do anything! I'm starting to really dislike this parent of yours,"

His sudden mood swing doesn't phase you, but it does lift your spirits... just the tiniest bit. Even if you wouldn't admit that to yourself. "Hey, it's fine. I'm over it,"

"You sure you don't want me to squeeze 'em?"

"Heh. No, that's okay. I would like you to let me go, though,"

His eyes widen at the sudden realization he still has you in a headlock and he quickly releases you.

You sit up, stretching and rubbing the back of your neck. "Thanks,"

"My arm was starting to hurt, anyway..." he thinks for a moment, looking back to the office door. "Ya think I can use that to get out of working? I wanna spend more quality time with my favorite shrimpy. You could use it!"

You look to the door and shrug. "Hey, worth a try, right?"

Rollo Flamme

Out of all the things to ruin the day, of course it had to be your parent.

The disappointment between the two of you was palpable. And even though it was only a brief encounter, it was enough to sour the rest of the afternoon for the both of you.

The first thing Rollo noticed, of course, was the manner in which they carried themselves. As an authoritative, important figure, puffing out their chest and towering over you. What gave them the right...?

They were not a leader, nor a public figure, nor anyone of interest, if your earlier mentions of them gave him any idea. Nothing but an adult who spoke to the both of you as if you were tiny children.

He loathed being talked down to.

Perhaps he should have said something sooner than he did, and perhaps he should have said something more than the interruption he used to excuse you from the conversation.

And now you're just quiet.

"Are you well?" he asks, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

You shrug.

"I apologize for not speaking on your behalf sooner. I did not want to be rude,"

No response at all.

Your silence was driving him mad. He couldn't get a good read on what you were feeling when you kept looking away like that.

"If you'd like to return home early, I would understand and escort you promptly,"

"No,"

A response. Not a good one, but a response nonetheless.

"May I ask you a question?" though he doesn't really wait for your permission to go on. "Why do they speak to you like that?"

That comment seems to jolt you, and you turn to look at him with wide eyes. "What? Speak to me like what?"

He struggles for the right words.

How could he describe it? It was so... odd. The words they spoke to you didn't sound cruel, but there was something sinister lurking beneath them. And not even in the typical "polite for the sake of it" sense.

Each response they gave was laced with a sort of venom that seemed to sting you. You had grown quiet, distant, as if you weren't really there at all.

Of course he was familiar with such tactics. He could weave his own words with ease. But you had done nothing wrong- you were guiltless. Why were you being punished?

He couldn't quite come up with an answer.

"You seemed uncomfortable," he finally says, looking away again. "I apologize for such an experience happening to you under my watch."

"It's not your fault,"

"It certainly isn't. And it's not yours, either,"

A blanket of silence falls over the two of you until he speaks again.

"You have nothing to feel bad about," he reaffirms.

Another pause.

"And I don't mean to intrude. But if you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #floyd leech x reader #rollo flamme x reader #can't believe this is the first time I've written for rollo on this blog... bby I've missed u

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zileans-big-cl0ck · 11 months ago

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Hey! Is it alright if I ask for aftercare hcs for the league bois for fem reader??? (Thresh,zed,Kayn Aatrox maybe?)

Also I love your stories plz keep up the good work, I read them after some ranked matches sometimes.

✦–Aftercare headcanons.✦ (NSFW)

✦How do they care about you (or not /jk) after sex.

✧ prompt: ✧ aftercare headcanons preceded with some sex scenes.

✧ champions: ✧ Aatrox, the Darkin Blade; Kayn, the Shadow Reaper; Thresh, the Chain Warden; Zed, the Master of Shadows.

✧ reader: ✧ female.

✧ author’s note: ✧ I’m not dead, although I am not promising anything - totally not staying here for long. I might just reappear sometime and then vanish again. But I’m reading all your request and thinking of them, promise. Don’t ever stop sending them <3.

masterlist

✦Aatrox, the Darkin Blade.

The World Ender is not a person to be underestimated in any circumstances. He is the antonym of the word “gentle”, both on the battlefield and privately. And there is no exception for you, his fucktoy. You are a mere human; of course someone - or something - as powerful as the Darkin would not have mercy for you. After fucking you disdainfully, listening to your woeful cries and moans, which were making the experience even better, Aatrox usually leaves you to take care of himself. But before vanishing, in an act of pity, he seldom leaves you with something - something only from him, a kind of gift. Like a souvenir: a burn, a claw mark or a cut. And that’s his “aftercare” - making you remember him. What’s even more rare - him letting you rest beside him a bit, absorbing the heat that beams from his inner rage. The World Ender is indeed warm, but only physically; he wouldn’t let you bond with him, as he has to continue with his purpose - to destroy everything.

✦Kayn, the Shadow Reaper.

Surprisingly, Kayn is a very talkative person during sex. And totally a loud one. This man has no shame, especially when it comes to begging you to ride his face or to get the chance to burry his nose and lips in your vagina. The successor of the Shadow Order is eager, although he tires quickly - his youth prevents him from going on for multiple rounds with you. But Kayn doesn’t mind you using him for your own pleasure and this always ends up with him beneath you, panting from overstimulation yet grinning at you widely. Because of that - that he doesn’t mind being the bottom - it isn’t rare when you are the one to tenderly kiss him after making him cum multiple times. You whisper sweet, praising words into Kayn’s ear, while his numb hands slide on your body, circling around his favourite parts of it. And it’s not like the Shadow Reaper can’t do aftercare or be the dominant one - of ourse not. He tends to be clumsy, but in the end - responsible for sure; whenever he finishes with enough strenght, he gladly carries you into a bathtub, joining you in the warm waters. But, in the end… He just enjoys you pampering him.

✦Thresh, the Chain Warden.

Every time you get intimate with the infmaous, greedy and definitely ominous keeper of the Shadow Isles, it involves chains. Of course it does. He is not the perilous Chain Warden for no reason. Every time he puts his clawed, metal-chased hands on you, slowly making himself comfortable on your tantalizing body, you end up chained to a wall or a bed, left at his mercy to toy with you. But whenever you are the one to initiate sex, both of you eventually find yourselves bounded to each other, metaphorically and physically. Either way Thresh’s stamina and durability are way higher than yours - thanks to the magical alterations he has overcome - so after making you cum and pleasing himself inside of you, he is less tired than you. Thanks to that, the Chain Warden is always the one to take care of you. He always starts with removing all the ropes or chains, gently and conscientiously, and treating the bruises that they left. He lets you rest and not even lift a finger, because he takes care of everything. But Thresh certainly takes his time with it, cleaning and wipping off every sticky liquid that might have end up between your legs. After all, he is a caring lover, making sure that aftercare is nothing of your concern; Thresh takes pleasure from having control in his own hands. And whenever you act possessive during foreplay, pretending like you try to reject him or turn off, he gladly chains you to a bed, only to leave you like this for hours.

✦Zed, the Master of Shadows.

Oh, how your Master enjoys taking you from behind. Having your ass bouncing before him, balls deep and with the chance of pulling your hair, just to hear your rapid moans. Zed doesn’t let you rest; he is a busy man and he often acts like there was no time left during sex - ever moment and every second he could be summoned for another emergency. That’s why his thrusts are always so desperate, aggresive, relentless. The Master of Shadows acknowledges that after sex you must be tired - he also is, although he would not admit that - that’s why he cleans himself right out, only to return and firlmy massage your back. It is kind of a characteristic trair of him - giving you a relaxing massages after sex, still covetously looking at your ass, probably thinking about the next time he will get the chance to fuck it without mercy. If you could read his mind, you would certainly think of Zed as overzelaous when it comes to fucking you, despite his age. And sometimes it actually comes out of him: while giving you the usual massage, your Master can’t stop himself; ignoring his own exhaustion, he enter you from the back once again, only to hear your surprised mewl. He lives for that sound. And he will fuck you as long as you squirm, moan and pant. Aftercare with Master Zed is almost as challenging as accompaning him on the battlefield.

#✦demosthenes writes #league of legends #league of legends x reader #lol #lol x reader #aatrox #kayn #thresh #zed #league of legends aatrox #league of legends kayn #league of legends thresh #league of legends zed #aatrox x reader #kayn x reader #thresh x reader #zed x reader

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totally-lyrical · 2 months ago

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So...eh...favorite bat-fam HCs?

oh you will regret this.

man i could go ON, already did in another post, so here im gonna talk about little quirks i think the batfam have because i have a problem smile

tim geniunely hallucinates sometimes but thats not because of lack of sleep thats just because hes tim. like theres nothing WRONG with him hes just genuinely Haunted.

jason also hallucinates but thats because of The Pit. he sees the hat man every wednesday

dick also also hallucinates but we been knew that. bro sees dead people

duke is a chaos god. he plays pranks on the others ALL the fucking time and they are all Sick Of It. best part, because of his powers, they never damage anything in the manor so he never gets in trouble.

bruce knows tiktok therapyspeak and when hes annoyed with one of his kids he uses it relentlessly and it is SO annoying. bossman PLEASE go to regular therapy your stupid words are MISERABLE.

steph DOES go to regular therapy. shes working on convincing tim to as well.

tim is the most similar to bruce by far. hes a genius, a socialite, slips between CEO Tim Drake-Wayne, Timothy Drake son of Janet Drake, and Red Robin effortlessly. the scary thing? hes almost smarter than even batman, and it shows. biggest difference is that he is willing to set his personal code aside when shit hits the fan. if he had to choose between killing someone and letting someone he loves die? bestie he knows all the major arteries and he will hit ALL OF THEM.

side note if tim ever gets bored someone BETTER engage him in something or else. mans WILL orchestrate an arkham breakout just to have something to do.

jason and the sirens get margaritas together every monday. sometimes selina brings one of her kittens. sometimes damian joins them, if hes on a school break.

duke is fairly well-known among the meta population as signal, since hes a meta himself and a loud and proud advocate for meta rights. hes also some variety of queer but, quote, "honestly man i dont have time to give a shit right now"

dick speaks all the core circus languages, plus english, mandarin, and arabic. they all speak mandarin and arabic actually but dick is the best with languages.

babs is a tumblr girlie and she went to dashcon. that is all.

cass really likes playing hollow knight because shes highkey kinda shit at it. shes the perfect assassin, the perfect bat, the perfect girl. she likes having something she sucks at.

damian likes watching cass play hollow knight because he likes the bugs. myla is his favorite.

steph Knows And Will Talk About fnaf. shes seen allllll of matpat's videos, shes played every game, shes read every novel, shes cosplayed vanessa.

steph is also responsible for getting tim into the scp fandom. everyone is mad at her for this.

tim's Type is Men Who Can Kill Him, and Women Who Would.

coincidentally, this is also jason's Type. and bruce's. and dick's. and tbh? duke's too.

every core bat has had some kind of fling with a super. b and clark have their weird situationship, tim and kon were a thing for a bit, jason and bizarro have kissed each other before, kara has kissed All The Girls, lois isnt a super and dick hasnt kissed a super yet, and damian and jon are one valentine's day away from kissing.

also, bruce and harvey dent? lowkey doomed yaoi when they were in school.

harley went to clown college after she and joker broke up. shes a Certified Clown now, and shes a BETTER one.

i touched on this on the last post but selina and talia are kissing. i dont make the rules but i DO live by them.

dick has nicknames for everyone in the family. of course we have "b" and "little wing", but for tim he has "baby bird", cass is "bitty bat", damian is "baby bat", steph is "blondebin", and duke is "nightlight". the others also often adopt some of these.

side note: tim is my favorite. can you tell tim is my favorite? because tim is my favorite.

i saw a post where duke's powers let him keep up with cass when they spar and i love it. duke is cass' favorite to spar with because his reaction times rival her own, and duke loves sparring with her because she actively encourages him to use his powers. the rest of the batfam are scared of them both.

popular headcanon that i love is cass and tim look near-identical. they play this for jokes all the time, cass going to galas in tim's place sometimes and tim going nonverbal just to fuck with people. it annoys their family to no end.

tim is still a stalker and i will die on this hill. he still follows people he likes, he still photographs family when they're out on patrol, he still has everyone's schedules memorized. the rest of them find this both creepy and endearing.

duke and damian dont really talk to each other at school, but when duke needs help with homework or something he will always seek him out. damian often asks duke for feedback on his artwork, since he knows duke sees color differently and will always give an honest answer. his answers are most often something like "I really like the lense flare, but the colors of the buildings are a little too saturated. maybe try diluting them with a gray?" and damian always takes his feedback to heart.

damian actually rather looks up to tim. he's a detective nearly as good- if not better- than his own father, who his grandfather treats with respect as an equal, and who manages to stay cool and collected under pressure.

damian is also, however, Bad At Feelings. just like his father in that regard.

jason and tim have to sort of a little bit hate each other. like they're brothers and they love each other and will always look out for each other, but like. cain instinct to the max. when they spar it just looks like they're fighting to the death.

im cutting it here but i have more thoughts. sorry it took so long i suck and having a brain

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sanfezu · 4 months ago

Text

How bored was I? Yes. Have this and do whatever I guess. I threw all logic out the window. If you find something that is canonically impossible… that is my bad, and I accept it 👍 Have a good one!

❗️This is a concept, and by that I mean that this is an idea that exists without big exploration of it. And it is OOC, especially with PVC, since he’s the only one who was changed. The concept exists just because I was bored and wanted some angst. Angst for the sake of angst, if you will. In the end, this concept will have a lot of flaws, but it is not meant to be an entire AU, with a whole story rewritten. It’s just a little idea, which was probably written by someone else before me, but I don’t know/don’t remember. ❗️ The changes were not made as a “redesign” of Pure Vanilla Cookie. The changes of Pure Vanilla Cookie here were made just for the idea, he is great the way he is in the canon. Thank you.

In general:

This is a more injured and broken version of Healer Cookie, and/or Pure Vanilla Cookie. Everything is the same, except for HC/PVC appearance and personality.

He has major head injury. Yet, he cannot heal it (he tried after Black Raisin Cookie asked him to, and after failing she never asked him to try it again, and he never tried again). Has no idea how he’s still alive (I don’t know as well👍)

He is blind, seeing only really blurry blobs of colours.

Before his memories come back:

He has problems feeling anything. And he has a big problem spacing out a lot. That does not mean he’s fully numb, he has his moments when he feels and a lot.

His Vanilla Orchid Staff is broken, and has a dangerous sharp end where the vanilla orchid once was, but he refuses to let other cookies fix it or get him a somewhat normal walking stick, having a strange connection with it, the feeling he cannot explain yet. The vanilla orchid itself is nowhere to be found (and they don’t know how the staff should look, so they never tried finding the other half of it)

Because Healer Cookie is blind, having such a dangerous staff, the Villagers of Abandoned Village decided to cover the staff where he holds it with bandages for him to feel where it’s okay to hold. They did try to get it fully wrapped, but the sharp end just rips the covers open.

He has his hair gathered in a messy right-sided ponytail, with his hair being loose on his left side. His hair is also greenish on the ends and he has some grey hairs being here and there.

He does not speak much. Yet, he is still gentle and polite just like OG Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Additional:

Black Raisin Cookie had a feeling she knew who he actually was, since his face is not covered showing his eye and half of the four-pointed star on his forehead, but she had her doubts since Pure Vanilla Cookie supposed to be dead, so she decided not to pry (not that he remembered himself anyway).

GingerBrave and CO. also had a thought about Pure Vanilla Cookie when they saw Healer Cookie. They did ask him about it, yet, he said he didn’t really know what they’re talking about. All the things that were happening with Healer Cookie during their adventure were all noticed by the CO. proofing that the Healer Cookie might in fact be Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Dark Enchantress Cookie was not happy seeing him, immediately recognising him. “You’re a no one cookie” conversation never happened.

After his memories come back:

He still has problems expressing himself, but he is getting a little bit better.

His Vanilla Orchid Staff was revived (how, you may ask… magic), so he can finally see through it.

Loosen his hair, yet they are still messy and greenish on the ends. Grey hairs never left. Sometimes gets them in the same ponytail as Healer cookie.

Speaks more, but gets tired while doing so now.

With time everything gets better and easier… until the jester dropped by.

During Beast Yeast:

Nothing really changes except for Pure Vanilla Cookie’s appearance and personality (a little bit, but that’s due to head injury that never got healed and the numbness he feels from now and then).

Truthless Recluse still happens.

As I said, nothing basically changes here or anywhere else, except for Pure Vanilla Cookie’s appearance and personality.

That’s basically it, do whatever, have fun.

#art #cookie run kingdom #crk pure vanilla cookie #crk healer cookie #nameless crk concept

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rs-hawk · 9 months ago

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I don't think i can explain to you the near-boundless giddy excitement I got form seeing EJ on that creeptober list of yours. (If it's not obvious, he might just be my favourite, snort) Looking forward to all of em tho ~!!

He’s GREAT. I used to have so many head cannons about him since so little is actually known. This story is actually based off my hc about his origin. I hope you enjoy!

Creeptober: Day Three

Eyeless Jack’s Obsession

Yandere! Eyeless Jack x AFAB Reader

CW: horror themes, stalking, blood, pain, death (not of reader), hypnosis, breeding, etc

Eyeless Jack was once an ordinary spirit. He lived his afterlife the way most spirits do. Bored and alone. However, that all changed when you bought the mansion in which he resided.

You moved in without ever seeing the place in person, which you soon regretted. The entire place gave you a creepy vibe that made the pit of your stomach twist into knots. At all times it felt like something was watching you. Stalking you. Filling every room with its presence.

And he was. Jack was following you no matter where you went in the house. It was like you were a drug and he was an addict. Being around you made him feel almost alive again. And the more alive he felt, the more he could interact with the physical world.

Soon he was moving things. Taking things from you. You noticed but kept trying to brush it off. You hoped thought that you were going a little crazy. After all, you worked a remote job and lived in this big creepy house all by yourself. You were supposed to fix it up and sell it for your aunt, who hadn’t lived here in decades, but it was hard. Even with the money she gave you, you struggled to make up the remainder.

Eventually though, you did, and construction started. You still lived in the loft like area that was once an attic while the crews worked downstairs. Unfortunately for the construction workers you hired, Eyeless Jack wasn’t as enthused with the intrusion into your space as you were.

On the very first day, a ladder fell over, nearly killing one of the roofers. He was fine, but he refused to return as he said he was pushed. The next time a ladder fell, a few days later, someone did die.

You heard the screaming and the sound of a body hitting the concrete. It took you a few minutes to rush downstairs. Terror filling your body. Did someone really just die on your aunt’s property? Holy fuck. How would you be able to keep living here? That poor man and his family.

While you were panicked, Jack was ecstatic. He hoped now you would send all these other people away so it could just be the two of you again. All he wanted was to be able to have you all to himself again. As he watched you panic, and the other workers calling the cops or trying to scrape their dead friend’s body off the concrete, he realized that he had blood on his hands.

For a few moments, he just stared at it. Vague memories of being alive and kicking blood from a cut on his finger drifted through his mind, but nothing solid. It was too long ago. Too hard to remember. Yet, his tongue darted out to flick across his palm.

The blood in his mouth solidified some of the memories, and made him feel almost alive. In a frenzy, he licked the blood from both of his hands, the coppery and metallic taste filling his mouth. His eyes glazed over and all he could think of was getting more blood. How much could he touch then? Could he touch you?

The next few days were a blur for you as you worked with the company and your home owners insurance to work out the logistics of the worker’s accident. Everyone saw that he just fell. The ladder was properly secured. No one was messing with it. He was acting responsibly. He wasn’t impaired or intoxicated. It was a freak accident.

But you knew. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew. It was because of that disturbing presence in the house.

You decided that you wanted the renovations done as quickly as possible, so after getting some of your money back from the previous company, you hired another. And another. And another. Every time, someone died. It was horrifying. One man came to your house just to survey the land and came across a missing roofer. He looked like he had been ripped open with a man’s bear hands, and, to both your and the surveyer’s horror, all of his organs were missing.

That night you called your aunt and told her that you were done. In the morning, you were leaving. She didn’t even try to protest after you told her everything that had happened. Jack, having over heard your conversation, was furious. He couldn’t lose you.

Over the past few months, he had undergone a transformation. Every bit of human flesh he consumed made him more solidified. More tangible. More alive. However, his face has become mutated and disturbing. Where his eyes once were, were just empty chasms, dripping black blood. His skin turned to a disturbing shade of ashy gray. So, to prevent your terror as much as he could, he carved a mask out of a piece what used to be a blue shelf. Now there was no reason for you to rebuff his affection.

When he made his way up to your room, you were on your laptop. In seconds, he tossed it from your lap, and your phone was pushed off the bed. He was on his knees on the foot of the bed, leaning over you, caging you in with his arms.

A scream welled up in your throat as the black holes bore into your eyes, but a muttering voice soothed the fear away. Your brain turned fuzzy. It was like you couldn’t think for yourself. He tilted his head, which you mimicked.

“A pretty puppet,” he purred, stroking the side of your face with one of his hands.

You couldn’t think of anything. It was like his eyes had drawn every thought or ounce of individualism from your skull. When he told you to take off your clothes, you did. When he told you to lay down, you did. You couldn’t see his mouth, and his voice seemed to come from everywhere, but you knew that it was him talking.

“Make sure your pussy is good and wet for me,” he instructed, and you obliged.

You began to finger yourself, using your other hand to play with your clit. The soft whimpers and moans that escaped your lips had him gritting his teeth behind his mask. He wanted to take you so badly, but he also wanted it to be perfect for you. His little morsel. He wanted to be apart of you. For you to be apart of him. Forever.

Once your juices began to drip onto your sheets, he finally cooed at you to stop. You did. Despite the frustration and throbbing of your pussy. He was still caging you in with his arms, his form nearly engulfing you. After a moment of watching you squirm, your neglected cunt clenching around nothing, he eased back. Unzipping his pants, and pulling down his boxers, his hard and throbbing cock was shown to you.

Once his hypnotic gaze was broken, your mind began to flood back to you, and the sight of something so massive made you try to scamper back on the bed. However, your loving Eyeless Jack realized that his hold had been broken and grabbed your face, forcing your gazes to lock. Once again, anything in your mind seemed to melt away.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed. And you did.

He slowly slid inside of you, watching your face intensely as it contorted in pain and pleasure. He stretched you out to the point that you felt like you’d burst. Your walls were still throbbing with need, forcing you to clench around him. Clearly to his immense pleasure.

“There we go. Mine. So good for me,” he moaned as he finally sank his cock deep inside of you, his eyes flickering away from your face for just a moment to see how your stomach extended from his cock.

When his gaze returned to you, he saw tears in the corner of your eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to me, won’t you?” he promised, cupping your cheek almost tenderly again. You nodded obediently.

He was only slow for a few thrusts before losing what little of his kind remained. It was clear he wanted to care about your pleasure, but the decades of death and isolation left him desperate for the comfort and warmth your pussy brought him. The tip of his cock slammed against your cervix repeatedly, making you wince. He muttered out apologies, but never stopped. Never slowed down.

His cock ripped you slightly, blood beading along your tender lips. He muttered out another apology about how he’d make it up to you, and all you could do was whisper out an “okay”. It took hours for him to finish, and when he did, he slammed himself deeply inside of you, his cum pumping directly into your womb.

“There we are. Now I’ll always be apart of you,” he smiled, pulling up his mask to press a kiss to your forehead before disappearing.

As your mind came back to you, you winced at the pain, but wondered with a twisted hunger if he would come back for you.

Like this story? Support me on Ko-fi ☕️ ❤️

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wthphe1n · 17 days ago

Text

Hcs — Gifts

Pairing: Yoo Wooin x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff / Romance / a dash of angst

Rating: PG-13

TW: Mild emotional manipulation (Wooin-style), hints of toxic family mentions

Word count: ↔️

A/N: Our sneaky snake boy is back. With a gift in his hand—but not without playing mind games first. This is the kind of “I got you something, but you better beg for it” type of energy. We lean into the sly, flirty, secretly-soft Wooin here. Let’s unpack that bad boy charm, yeah?

# If there’s anything off or weird, Im really sorry in advance.

(@shintaru @dzvelinaskebiyars )

⬥ Hcs – When it comes to giving you gifts…

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

– He acts like he didn’t buy you anything. Every time.

Literally will sit across from you, poker-faced, watching you talk about your day… while a very obvious shopping bag is tucked under the table. Smirking silently like a little gremlin.

– Gift-giving is strategic.

He’s not the type to throw random stuff at you. Nah. He watches, waits, remembers the way your eyes lingered on something at the store, and buys it a week later when you least expect it.

– Packaging? What packaging.

The guy either throws it in a black tote bag or just hands it over in the store’s bag like, “Here.” But inside? It’s always the perfect size. The perfect color. The perfect thing. Suspiciously perfect.

– Custom pieces.

If he gets you a Chrome Hearts ring or bracelet? Won’t say a word about it either just watches your face light up.

– He hates birthdays but shows up with the most thoughtful gift.

Claims he doesn’t “do birthdays,” but shows up at your door at midnight with a bag of your favorite snacks, a necklace tucked inside a hoodie he stole from you weeks ago (and sprayed with his cologne).

– He never lets you buy him anything. But will lowkey get jealous if someone else gifts you something better.

“That’s a nice gift… you want me to throw it out for you?” He says it smiling, but his eyes? Dead serious.

– Gives you stuff during fights.

The audacity. You’re pissed off, and he just shoves a box into your hands like “Take it. It’s been sitting in my backpack anyway.” Bro. You planned this.

– He never says “I bought this for you” – it’s always “It was lying around” or “Didn’t need it.”

You find a new hoodie in his room. Oversized, with the tags on. “You can wear it, I guess,” he says, watching you try it on like it wasn’t always meant for you.

– When you’re sad? That’s when he pulls out the soft stuff.

Handmade things. Notes. Sketches. A tiny Polaroid he took of you without you knowing. It’s all wrapped up in this “I don’t care” packaging. But he so cares.

– Jealous gift-giving is a thing.

If he feels like someone else is taking your attention? Suddenly he’s handing you something — expensive, cool, personal — with that lazy grin like, “What? I had it lying around.”

– Secret stashes.

You find out later he’s been keeping everything you ever gave him. Notes, receipts, even wrappers. He plays it off like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, but that drawer in his room? Yeah, it’s a shrine.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

BONUS SCENE – “Don’t Look In the Bag.”

You opened the door and there he was — Yoo Wooin, black hoodie over his head, yellow-tinted glasses reflecting your porch light, chewing gum like he had all the time in the world.

“What?” you asked.

He looked you up and down, smiled slow. “You always greet people with that sweet attitude, princess?”

Your eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

He held up a plain black paper bag and shook it a little. “Nothing. Just had this lying around.”

You reached out. He yanked it back instantly.

“Don’t look inside yet.”

“…Why?”

He leaned in, smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “Because I said so.”

Classic.

You let him in anyway, rolling your eyes as he kicked off his shoes like he lived there. Which, let’s be real, he practically did.

Ten minutes passed. He was sprawled on your bed, arms behind his head, pretending to scroll through his phone while not watching you. You were still staring at the bag on your desk.

“…Can I open it now?”

“No.”

You pouted. “Why not?”

He looked over, his smirk sharpening. “Because I want you to suffer a little. Builds anticipation.”

You marched over. “I swear to God, Yoo Wooin—”

He caught your wrist before you touched it, tugging you down so you fell half on his chest.

His voice dropped low in your ear. “It’s not a big deal. Just something I saw that reminded me of you.”

Your heart skipped. That tone—half lazy, half sincere—always did things to you.

You turned your head, whispering back, “Then why are you making such a big deal?”

He glanced at you, took his glasses off slowly, eyes narrowing like he was sizing you up.

“…Because watching you squirm is fun.”

You groaned and reached for the bag again.

He didn’t stop you this time.

Inside: a velvet box. Inside that: nestled against a dark, plush lining, lay the Chrome Hearts CH Skinny Multi Cuff. Its sterling silver surface, adorned with a continuous band of meticulously crafted ‘CH Plus’ motifs, gleamed softly - each cross a tiny, distinct declaration of the brand’s iconic rock-and-roll aesthetic. ($900 USD)

“…Wooin,” you breathed.

“Mm-hmm.”

“This… is expensive.”

He shrugged.

“I liked it. Thought you’d look good wearing it when I pull your hoodie down.”

You choked. He laughed. You slapped his arm.

“Asshole…”

He caught your wrist again, turned you over until he was above you, grinning wide, eyes glittering with mischief.

“You’re welcome, babe.”

Yeah. He never gave gifts the normal way.

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A/N: ok but fr im a CH simp through n through so i planned on writing Wooin like this it kinda just happened. Tbh i poured my whole soul into that bonus scene so i rlly hope yall feel it.

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#windbreaker manhwa #windbreaker webtoon #wooin yoo #yoo wooin #wooin yoo x reader #sabbath crew

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