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shmeddieshmunson · 15 days ago

Text

Makeout Mix Volume One

Actual mix you can listen to right here!!

Summary: Eddie Munson whisks you away in his thrashed van for yet another evening. It's business as usual for the most part-- but he's made you a mix tape, and you're catching feelings... so the usual smoking, warm beer, and making out gets a little more heated tonight.

Word Count: ~4.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! smut & fluff, porn with (some of) a plot, FWB type of vibe (but you've obviously both caught feelings), Eddie x you, gender non specified, no y/n or gendering of reader, AFAB reader, inexperienced kink, detailed smoking, drinking, grinding, making out, unprotected p in v, mentions: scratching, hair pulling, biting, hickies, tiny bit of choking (all Eddie receiving), virgin!Eddie, sub!Eddie, masochist!Eddie

A/N: y'all I'm so fucking proud of this one honestly. I was researching, and I made a period accurate mix tape for your enjoyment so you can really pretend, and I just think this loser virgin is the best thing since sliced bread. Please let me know all your thoughts and feelings, I thrive on feedback! I poured my heart and 11 hours over two days into this?! Hyperfixation is wild...

The van is vibrating with bass as it rattles and squeaks to a stop at the curb outside your house. You wish you could say you had kept busy, but the reality was you had been sitting, giddy and fidgeting, for the past 30 minutes.

8:30 PM had become the ritualistic time that you and Eddie had set for your evening sessions in the van. Enough time to eat dinner, do any leftover tasks, and sit and wait with a racing heart for the brown-eyed angel to arrive in his chariot.

You could hear him a block away. By the time he actually comes to a stop, you’re already flipping on the porch light as you practically skip out your front door.

What you and Eddie had was “hard to describe” as you told your friends, but it wasn’t. Not really. You guys smoked weed, drank shitty (potentially stolen) beer sometimes, and made out. You were hooking up with the town freak, while keeping v-cards intact. Something had shifted lately though… Things had gotten a little more Hot ‘N’ Heavy. The making out had come with more poorly hidden whimpers, more needy subtle grinding, more tightness in the front of Eddie’s torn up jeans. And you couldn’t stop spiraling down the rabbit hole of your feelings and desires when you got home late at night reeking of him. You didn’t know how to suddenly shift to telling your friends about where and how and why your hands wandered in the wee hours of the morning because of him.

Eddie barely made it around the front of the van to open your door when you came bounding up.

“Howdy!” you said excitedly, giving him an obvious once over. His beat up shoes, ratty jeans, wild hair, thinly worn Metallica tee, and unwashed battle jacket made your heart flutter. The glorious mess that he was, glimmering with studs and pins.

“Hi,” he replies with a wicked grin, matching your full body scan like yours gave him the permission he was waiting for. You can’t help but notice how his eyes sparkle and wrinkle at the edges when he grins like that, smile lines echoing across his cheeks, dimpling his chin along the way. You have to bite the insides of your cheeks a little to not let your smile get too much wider.

You roll your eyes at his chivalry before you heave yourself into the passenger seat, and make a point of slamming the door shut yourself, yanking it out of his hand. He throws his head back and laughs then runs back around the front of the van, popping back into the driver’s seat before pulling his own door shut. He shifts into drive and takes off like a bat out of hell, tires squealing in the quiet street while he careens towards whatever abandoned parking lot is next in your rotation.

Ronnie James Dio and guitar have been screeching relentlessly into the small space for a handful of minutes, headbanging settling into rhythmic nods.

“Made ya something,” he says, turning the blaring music down. Still keeping it loud enough to buzz the speakers slightly, but you no longer have to yell over it to be heard. He pulls one hand off the wheel, ejecting Dio and reaching into the inside of his jacket. Before you can voice your incredulousness at the idea of him having a gift for you, he pulls out a tape. You barely catch a glimpse of the jagged hearts drawn on the front in black sharpie as he pops it into the cassette deck. The moments of quiet as he switches tapes feels eerie and unfamiliar in the van.

“A legendary Munson mixtape?!” you gasp, exaggerating excitement and flattery that help mask how much you’re truly excited and flattered. The jokes help with the blushing and butterflies you’re trying to push away, the buzzing you still feel in the absence of bass. He glares at you for a brief moment, but softens when he sees the genuine smile you can’t wipe off your features. His eyes linger a little extra while he admires you in the glow and flashes of the streetlights you’re veering past.

“Oh, yeah,” he croons, back to playing it cool, “you’re about to learn why they’re legendary.” He reaches down and turns the volume up to max, like it wasn’t just threatening to blow out the speakers a minute earlier. The low, driving beat of Kashmir by Led Zeppelin starts to convulse through your bodies and the van. He drops his right hand to your thigh– you look at it, then up to him, but he’s looking out his own window and then back out the windshield, really putting in the effort of playing it cool.

This is totally normal, he puts his hand on your thigh like he’s your boyfriend all the time, your heart totally isn’t racing at this new sweet little kind of contact.

You thought you were giddy before, now you feel like you physically can’t wait until he parks and you get to kiss him.

He finally pulls into the chosen parking lot of the evening, dusk barely lightening the sky still, while he parks on the side furthest from the single flickering yellow light. Eddie kills the engine and relents the volume a little bit.

“Makeout Mix Volume One,” he declares unprovoked, tapping his fingers on the dash.

��Volume One? That implies a Volume Two,” you tease him. “Is there a Volume Two?!”

“That really depends on how Volume One goes over…” His eyes flicker with fire, and then you’ve got his denimed ass in your face as he jams himself over the center console and wiggles into the open back of the Metal Mobile. You scoff and laugh, clambering after him and landing next to him with a thud and a huff. The two bottles of Iron City he holds up in an offer clink together, his raised eyebrows asking the question on behalf of his mouth. You take one of the bottles in answer, and take a swig of the mostly room temp carbonated bread soda. Beer is nasty, but beer with Eddie is somehow heavenly.

He takes a swig too, not taking his eyes off you until his mouth leaves the lip of the bottle. He pulls his metal lunch box of contraband off the floor and onto his lap, popping it open with a jangle and starting the process of rolling.

He rolls like he’s sculpting the Venus de Milo– every move intentional, every speck of flower accounted for. He loads up the paper, places a prepped filter on one end, and starts rolling back and forth between his fingers to press out the air pockets, zeroing in on the task. He catches one corner under the other side near his thumb, laser beam focus, tongue sticking out a little. You love watching him roll, his focus-face is so cute, and you’d be slow to admit it– but you love that he puts so much care into something that’ll only be shared between the two of you.

He rolls up the perfect cone shape, leaving just a tiny strip of the edge, and then he leans in, fingers holding the joint in place, and carefully licks the length of the paper. You can’t help the way you stare at his tongue gently caressing up the paper, leaving a shiny wet trail in its wake. He finishes the roll by pressing the wet edge down, and whips his head up at you with a smile. Your eyes drag from his lips up his face to meet his eyes, and you think your mouth might be hanging open as you blink at him and smile a little.

“Do I have something on my face?” his eyebrows furrow a little as he wipes at the corners of his mouth, and you shake your head, chuckling lightly.

“No! Sorry, I…” you trail off, eyes darting away. “You’re good.” you say finally, not giving him more room to question.

“Alrighty… Good.” It’s clear he’s a little befuddled, but he lets it slide anyways. “You want to, or should I?” he holds up the joint and the lighter, asking who’s gonna light it tonight.

“Be my guest,” you say sweetly.

“I thought you were my guest?” he hassles you, words slightly contorted as he sticks the joint between his lips. His perfect, soft, pink lips. As you mock him with a snarky fake laugh, he smirks and purses his lips. The lighter flicks to life, dancing orange light and dramatic shadows across his face. His cheeks hollow a little as he sucks in through the joint, pulling the heat of the fire through it until you see the cherry catch. He gives it a few puffs, ensuring an even light, and lets the smoke out through his nose as he passes it to you.

“Thank ya,” you say, plucking the joint from his fingers. He watches you pull a deep drag and hold it for a moment, the smoke comes out smoothly until you start choking on it and coughing. He cracks a smile, and when you cough more he downright laughs at you. Fighting for air you smack him, eyes watering, handing the joint back while you and your lungs duke it out.

“Shut the f–” another cough interrupts you. “Shut the fuck up,” you finally croak out quickly before hacking a little bit more and grabbing his arm with an iron grip.

“Hey, the more you cough, the more you get off,” he winks at you and then takes another hit while you smack his shoulder and shove him some more. Laughing and smoking don’t mix, so now he’s also hacking up a lung and suffocating on smoke.

“Who’s a bitch now, huh?!” you jab at him, another round of smokey laughing coughs erupting out of him, not enough air to defend himself.

By the time the joint is burnt to the filter, you two have become a little more tangled. Giggling idiots in a haze of smoke trapped inside the van. Mouths no longer occupied by the act of smoking, you both start to inch your faces closer together, ready to occupy your mouths with another familiar activity. Before you make contact though, he abruptly taps the tip of your nose with his finger and leans forward, much to your confusion. He sits back up with a water bottle in hand.

“Dry mouth, sorry,” he says sheepishly, smirking. He unscrews the lid and takes a sip, offering it to you next. You roll your eyes and laugh, but take a sip too.

He sets it back on the floor of the van, then re-settles into his spot. His big soft eyes gaze at you for a long moment, then, fucking finally, he closes the small gap between your faces and kisses you. It’s a little wet and sloppy, mashing into you like he might miss the window of opportunity, but you both melt into it. After the first couple messy smooches, your soft lips find their rhythm together.

Makeout Mix Volume One is melting into the background of the moment, but The Runaways chanting that you’re Eddie’s ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch--cherry bomb isn’t lost on you.

The kiss between the two of you heats up, following the recent patterns of slow but steady escalation. Smooches start to descend into open-mouth drawn-out making out. You’re sharing breath when his tongue darts out. The feeling of him running it along your lower lip makes you hum a little into his mouth, absentmindedly. You part your lips a little more, giving his tongue a small swipe with yours, inviting him to press forward and explore more. And as oblivious as he can be to some things, he catches his cue perfectly. With only the slightest nervous hesitation, he pushes his tongue into your mouth, chasing after the teasing muscle that has retreated to the other side of your teeth. So he licks your teeth too– the beginning of his tongue’s voyage into the depths of your mouth.

... my guardian angel’s rung down my telephone… Something about the T. Rex song just pulls you over and up into Eddie’s lap, straddling him. Your hands slide up his chest and into his hair in the process, pulling the two of you closer together as you settle, never breaking the obscene kiss. This does feel like a teenage dream. You grab his face and push your tongue into his open panting mouth, feeling bold with want, rolling your hips forward all in one sweeping motion that crashes over him before he knows what’s happening. Eddie lets his first true moan of the evening out into your mouth while he drowns in your invasion, hands frantic on your sides and back when his hips buck involuntarily. You smile into the kiss, not laughing quite enough to break it, continuing to occupy his mouth. You suck on his tongue and he moans again, a whiny sound that drops into a rumble in his chest. His hands slow down and grab into the meat of your thighs, and he gets his bearings a little bit again– still jolting when your hips roll through the height of your gyration. And still making desperate little sounds for you.

You pull back from his face, lips pulsing and shining with spit. You take in his flushed cheeks and lips, his even more fluffed curls, and the glaze of his eyes. He looks at you, a twinge of a pout skittering across his face as he tilts his chin up at you a tiny bit, parting his lips ever so slightly more. He wants you to kiss him more, bad, and you lean in like you’re going to, but you kiss just to the side of his mouth instead. He lets out a tiny whimper, but doesn’t protest much more when you start trailing kisses across his jaw. He’s back to squirming his hips around under your slow pressing grinds when you start dragging your teeth over his throat. You just can’t get enough of him, you need to hear him and taste his skin. You kiss and bite and suck on his neck, leaving a map of where your mouth has been in red marks and spit.

And he is just coming unraveled underneath you.

His head rolled back, mouth agape, as he moans relentlessly, vocal chords vibrating against your lips. His hips shamelessly buck and grind up into you now, fingers digging into your skin and pressing your hips down into him, like he’s fucking you through both pairs of pants. His neck is very sensitive, you’d figured that out a couple nights ago, and you’re fully taking advantage of it right now. His strangled groans are becoming pathetic, winding all over in pitch and volume, conducted by your actions and reactions.

“Hold me… Hold me… harder,” he manages to grunt out, not quite even sure how to communicate the desire that’s burning in him, just that he knows he needs whatever it is.

“Hmm, wha Eddie?” you ask against his skin, and he groans again when he hears his name from your lips.

“Harder,” he whispers desperately, “more,” and he reaches his hand up to lay it over yours, pressing your fingertips into his flesh.

Still a little unsure what exactly he’s asking for, but humming out a moan at how fucked out he sounds, you drag your finger nails into his skin tentatively and a pornographic moan erupts out of him. He’s mostly incoherent, but you catch a few yeses and swear words at the tail of it. You moan in response and pull your mouth off him at the reaction, devouring him with your stare as you dig your other hand’s nails down the other side of his neck, mirroring the first scratch. He whines and shutters at the pain you’re inflicting on him– panting and moaning more as you taper off the red lines blooming on his skin. Like stems for the bouquet of red and purple hickies you’ve painted on his pale skin.

“Like that?” you ask breathlessly, your voice low, the realization sinking in that he likes it exactly like that.

He nods a little desperately. “Yes… p-please like that,” he huffs.

And that stirs something deep in your belly. The plea makes your heart pound in your ears. You let your eyes linger for a moment longer on his neck and then glance up at his face to find his gaze boring into you. Eyes begging and hazy, glimmering dark. When you sear back at him, and your mouth twitches in the corners with a grin, you swear the glassy orbs in his face literally twinkle at you like a goddamn cartoon.

“Please,” he repeats, “need you more…”

You burn a little at his choice of words. In this vulnerable state he’s in, brain seemingly clouded with need, he still needs you. It feels fitting that Confessions by the Violent Femmes twangs in the speakers, because this does seem like somewhat of a confession on his end.

And so you give him more, rewarding his words giving him what he’s groveling for. You grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and exposing his tummy before he leans up and lifts his arms for you to pull it completely off of him. You drag your nails down his chest and his hips lull back to life, ready to continue your dry humping. Not that either of your underwear were particularly dry at this point. It might just be categorized as humping. He might have actually come in his pants a little already, but he’s truly in a euphoric blur as you explore the more intense contact together, so it’s tough to know for sure.

You discover that he lets out those bedraggled pornographic moans from scratches, hair pulling, your hands around his throat, and hard bites on more muscular areas. And his body and breath quiver when you lick and nip at his ears.

His hips have a mind of their own at this point, blatantly rubbing his hard cock on the heat between your legs; keeping any kind of steady rhythm by grinding out the dark driving beat of the Ministry song that feels like it’s been on forever. He starts moaning in time too, his succession of whimpers getting higher and breathier. You bite into the top of his shoulder where it could technically be deemed the crook of his neck, the vampire spot, Eddie had called it once. And as you sink your teeth into his sweaty tender skin, salty on your tongue, you dig your nails across the skin of his shoulder blades hard enough that little tiny prickles of blood dot parts of the welts left. He gasps– fingers digging into the crease of your hips while he holds you against his throbbing cock as best as he can while his hips thrust needily.

“Ohfuck ohfuckohfucck–” his moan is this chest rattling guttural sound, and comes out of him in waves as he sucks in jagged breaths and comes in his pants the hardest he’s ever come in his life. The pain and pleasure completely overwhelming his senses. You can feel the wet spot he’s pressing into you through all four layers of fabric between you. You moan happy little approving sounds, cooing at him practically, straightening up so your hips tilt down into his withstanding bulge while you wrap your arms around his head and anchor your hands into his hair, pulling him into your chest. You keep grinding your hips, realizing how easy it would be to chase your own release over the edge with how wound up you are. He’s making all kinds of growls and groans trying to handle how sensitive his dick is, but he keeps pressing into your hips– he just hopes to god you’re as close as you seem, because he isn’t sure how much more he can stand.

His prayers are answered by the honey of your long and loud moan, and he feels your thighs shaking on either side of him. He tugs his thumbs out of the creases of your hips, and snakes his arms around your back while you come in his lap.

You just sit like that for a minute or two. The aftershocks of your drawn out orgasms being released through your tight embrace. The mixtape ended at some point, so the little whimpers and heavy breaths sporadically coming from the both of you, and the crickets outside the steel walls, were the only things combating silence in the van. The silence felt warm and triumphant though, and there was something a little special about it that you didn’t care to overanalyze right now.

You both eventually come down from the rush and adrenaline some, pulling apart, but not enough for your arms to untangle from the other. You blink at each other a few times.

“Legendary,” you murmur, nodding in agreement with yourself. And I didnt even catch it all, you tag on internally, unsure if the tape even got flipped or not.

Eddie’s entire face breaks out in a smile. He’s definitely back on Earth, but he feels like he might be dreaming now. And he just beams at you with adoration.

“I’ll make as many volumes as you want,” his voice is still ragged, the words a little thick with effort. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” The sweet honesty in his voice lingers in the air.

“I want…” you lilt out, looking at his mouth, and his big doe eyes. He perks up slightly, not actually having expected a request, but eager to please you. Your eyes flicker in mischief, making him wait like a well-trained dog. You try to keep your braves intact, and try to ignore your increasing heart rate at the confession you’re considering. “I… want…” you draw out again, carefully considering your words.

The word anything is written all over his face as he scours your blushing features for any clues, searching your eyes like he might be able to peer into your thoughts. His own heart rate increases slightly, a tingling in his body from the anticipation.

He sees your smile start to crackle as you lean in, and you brush his ear with your lips, your breath hot as you whisper, “I… want to feel you… without all these layers between us,” your words are crisp and quiet, and the final s hisses a little. His arms tighten slightly around you, a shiver runs down his spine as your words sink in and ghost over the shell of his ear. He didn’t think it would be possible, but his dick convulses and hardens a bit again. When you look at his face you can see the cogs turning in his brain. There’s really only one conclusion that can be drawn. Your words were chosen well. But he’s still not entirely pieced back together, and now the blood is rushing out of his head and back into his pants, so it takes him a few seconds. But he starts to slowly nod, slack jawed and also blushing again.

“Yeah?” you confirm sweetly, feeling his cock pulse a little more.

“Yeah… I wanna feel you too,” he’s still nodding as he stares at you, a little frozen for a moment. But he drops his hands and slides them along your waistband until they meet at the button and fly. His hands shake a little, but he pops the button, and starts to fold and push down on the edge. You huff out a nervous little breath, but press forward on your knees so he can pull your pants and underwear over your ass. “Do you wanna…” he awkwardly tries to push them down further but they’re stuck bunched around your thighs.

“Not… really?” you whisper, “kinda want you just like this…” you look down between you, gently rubbing your warm hands over the bruises and scrapes on his chest, and start working on unclasping his pants. The idea of pulling any distance away from him to get more undressed is completely off the table to you.

He goes back to nodding at you with his brown eyes, nearly black in the night, locked on your face. “Yeah… yeah okay,” he remembers to respond. “This is nice.”

You nod and stare back at him, his belt unbuckled in your hands, and the zipper on its way down. “Nice…” you mutter, before he presses up and shimmies his pants down, bouncing you a little in his lap, and you giggle, steadying yourself on him and the wall.

His pants are also down just enough to expose him, and you look down and a moan falls out of your lips, finally seeing his cock erect in the space between your bodies. Your breathing gets heavier, and you look at him, his eyes wild and his throat bobbing as he swallows.

“... yeah?” you breathe out again, a little speechless.

“Yeah, yes, please,” he says with a little more oomph, running his hands on you but waiting to follow your lead.

You almost laugh, and then he feels the pressure on his shoulder increase as you raise yourself to hover above the tip of his cock. You brush against it, and you both keen at the initial contact. He reaches under you, and steadies himself with a hand around the base of his shaft. You lower yourself slightly, and you both throb at the feeling of his tip sliding over you, both of you contributing wetness. You can feel that he’s lined up right at your entrance, and so you press down, moaning at the sensation of his head pushing inside of you with a little pop. He chokes on his own moans as you slowly but steadily sit all the way down on his aching cock. He’s still a little sensitive from earlier, and pressing into you for the first time ever is an intensely good feeling. It feels so good it almost hurts, he can’t fucking breathe. You're so tight and hot and wet around his cock, he feels like he’s actually melting. Maybe getting mind flayed. He thinks he’s absolutely about to make a fool of himself, he’s gonna come on stroke three and you’re gonna laugh at him in a not fun way. He’s focusing so hard on trying not to panic or come, that it takes him a moment to notice that you’re trembling in his lap, his cock staying sheathed deep inside you. Your breath is this sharp melody of inhales and exhales, your thighs are clenching and shaking, and all of a sudden you’re even tighter and convulsing around his cock.

“Eddie!” you scream out his name, moaning from your chest, fists tightening in his hair and yanking with the magnitude of your next orgasm.

He smacks your thigh rapidly, trying to warn you, “oh fuck I’mgonna come again,” he slurs out, but you lean all of your shakey weight down onto him, grinding on his cock and riding out your orgasm still. “Oh shit oh fuck I’m coming, I’m comingfuck you’re so fucking hot,” his words are desperate and shrill, and you feel his thick cock twitching as warmth oozes into you. You’re both instantly thrown into a vicious cycle of grinding and twitching and moaning, setting each other off, and hurtling into over sensitivity as one tangled mess.

You manage to pry off of him once you’ve both caught your breath some, still twitching and moaning occasionally.

He pulls out his lunchbox once more a few minutes later, excited to roll the Post Sex Joint he’s been imagining he’d smoke for years.

“Oh! Here,” he says nonchalantly, pulling a little rectangle of brown cardstock out of the metal box, not even looking up at you. You take the piece of paper he has extended towards you, and examine it.

A single block letter is inked by hand in renaissance-like motifs.

“Is this your fucking v- card?!” you balk. You burst into loud howling laughter and flailing as he giggles, real pleased with himself, and keeps rolling.

He'd been hopeful when crafting the gag that whoever he “lost it” to would appreciate the silly gesture as much as you are right now. You're both delirious giggles and smiles.

You lean over the front seats and pull out the tape, examining the handwriting and doodles on the front, smiling to yourself. You realize at some mystical moment lost to lust he had in fact flipped to side B. Wizard, you think. You flip it back over and restart side A. You want to hear every single song.

Definitely need Volume Two, he notes to himself, watching you, buzzing, picking up his forgotten beer, on the brink of fantasizing about your next session already.

Taglist? Do I have one of those??? @eddiemunsonsbabygirl @take-everything-you-can lol gotta start somewhere let me know if you wanna be on it next time!

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie x ftm #eddie x transmasc #eddie x afab!reader #eddie x fem!reader #my writing #eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson #sub!eddie munson #masochist!eddie munson #virgin!eddie #sub!eddie #masochist!eddie

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noctiva · 3 months ago

Note

I’m back!! I’m super curious do you have a list of general Toby Headcanons posted anywhere or am I just entirely blind? Lmao I’m super curious what your HCs for the man are like.

- 🐼

you’re not blind!! I’ve been meaning to post a general hc list for AGESSSSS you just gave me to push to do it hehe here it is!

Toby Rogers - General Headcanons

CW for: mentions of violence, cannibalism, self-destructive tendencies

Visual/Appearance

Toby is a tall, lanky mf. Standing at about 6’1 but appears shorter because he’s got horrible posture.

The CEO of having a sleeper build tbh. He looks skinny, especially under all the layers of sweaters and jackets he likes to wear, but don’t let that fool you. He’s scary strong, with a mean right hook.

Mousy brown hair that’s long enough to cover his ears. Shaggy, choppy, and uneven because he cuts it himself.

Has a ton of freckles that show best when he’s gotten some sun

Crooked, chipped teeth from one too many blows to the face, with uncannily sharp canines.

Dark, dark brown eyes with even darker circles under them.

Wardrobe

The midwest emo type

Flannels, ripped baggy jeans, jackets with patches that he sewed on himself

Either wearing a beat up pair of sneakers or more sturdy hunting boots when he’s out on a mission

Wears a ton of layers (as mentioned before) because he always feels cold even if it’s warm outside

I’m talking like; a t-shirt, under a hoodie, with a flannel over top, topped with a big comfy jacket

Personality

Sarcastic motherfucker. Even in times that definitely don’t warrant it al all.

Pretty scarred mentally from being bullied ruthlessly as a kid, so he’s actually really closed off. Pretty reluctant to get close to or open up to people because he’s convinced he’ll just end up being the butt of the joke again.

HATES being around aggressive, violent men. Reminds him too much of his father, and he’ll genuinely just freeze up completely as a trauma response.

Same goes for people who drink. He can’t stand that shit either. (He will smoke weed though, but alcohol is a complete no go).

Absolute jokester once you actually do get him to open up. Pretty carefree and funny, despite it all.

Chronically bottles up his emotions. Would much rather just slap on a smile and push everything down than actually confront them. (Leads to pretty nasty breakdowns more often than not.)

Shit disturber. Will stir drama and start fights just because he’s bored.

Swears like a sailor.

General

Chronic nail biter and skin picker. It’s partially an oral fixation type thing so if it’s not his fingers in his mouth it’s a toothpick, or gum, or the drawstrings of his sweater orrrr…

…A cigarette. Because this man smokes like a chimney. Tim isn’t fully to blame for why he got into it, but he is the one Toby stole smokes from when he first got the urge to try it.

Now it’s a constant thing. Half a pack a day on a good day. He’s always got one tucked behind his ear, and he constantly reeks of the smell of it.

Has a ton of scarring from piercings he did on himself and then decided he hated a few months later. (The only ones he kept being a septum and a pair of snakebites, but he sucks at taking care of them so they’re infected like ALL the time)

He’s flip floppy like this in a lot of aspects of his life. Constantly hyperfixating on things just to decide he hates them a few weeks later.

Also does stick n’ poke tattoos on himself like all the time. Dumb little chicken scratch doodles on his arms and thighs.

Loves sour candy like CRAZY.

A huge nerd deep down. Used to collect comic books and figurines when he was a kid, but lost them all when his house burnt down. (If he breaks into someone’s house and finds some nowadays he’s stealing them. IMMEDIATELY. Especially if it’s anything X-Men.)

Speaking of stealing, he’s a klepto. If he wants it, he’s just gonna take it. And lord knows the proxies don’t get paid a living wage so it’s not like he’d be able to afford it anyway.

Big forager. Likes to look for animal bones and pretty rocks while out in the woods. Cleans them and decorates the shelves of his cabin with them. Also likes to carve things as well. Making knives out of sticks and bones. Little figures that he whittles to keep his hands busy.

Is fluent in German, and slips back into it when he’s really pissed or annoyed (or when… yk..). His mother spoke it a lot at home when he was growing up.

Has cannibalistic tendencies and pretty nasty intrusive thoughts. Almost always bites a chunk out of his victims before disposing of their body. Has a hard time not getting a taste of the living people he knows.

Chews on his own skin because of this, gnawing at his palms to satiate the craving for blood.

Pyromaniac (duh) always has a lighter or matches on him. Sets fires just for fun, and could sit and stare into the flames for hours on end.

He hates his tics :( It’s deep seated trauma from the kids at school and shit his dad used to say to him. To the point where he’s grown a habit of hitting himself whenever he does tic, like if he punishes himself for doing it, maybe one day his body will stop (it hasn’t)

Verbal and physical tics. Often mimicry of words and sounds he hears often (common ones include whistles that mimic bird calls)

Low-key a sadist. Because he can’t feel pain himself, watching people react to being in pain is morbidly fascinating to him. Really takes his time with his victims because of it.

Virgin teenage boy levels of hormones LMAOOO. The type to have a bikini model poster plastered on his bedroom wall.

Sucks at talking to girls irl though. Puts on a way too confident facade and makes a total fool of himself more often than not.

—————————————————————————☆

yaaaay! I’ve been meaning to post this for ages

let me know if you guys want relationship hcs too (sfw + nsfw)!

#toby rogers #ticci toby #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #crp #ticci toby hc #ticci toby headcanons #toby rogers headcannon #toby rogers hc #crp fandom #crp headcanon #creepypasta hcs #toby rogers x reader #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta x reader

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luunaz · 10 months ago

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[Morning with Peter Pevensie]

pairing: Peter Pevensie x reader

type: fluff 🍀

an: i have a hyperfixation on Narnia again 😔 English is not my native language, so sorry if there are mistakes. You can write to me and I will correct them.

It was early morning. The sky had already lightened, but the sun was not yet visible due to the dense row of trees. A chill ran through your skin when you went out on the balcony. Cair Paravel was so beautiful now. From mountain and forest areas to the gently blue sea. You leaned against the railing and closed your eyes. The fresh air filled your lungs and besotted your mind. This place has always calmed you down, given you a slight feeling of happiness. It seemed as if everything in this world was solvable. There are no problems, sorrows and bitterness. Just you and…

— Go back to bed, — a quiet voice sounded in your ear. You smiled gently at Peter, who had just woken up and looked so adorable with his disheveled hair. He gently put his arms around your waist and pulled you to him. His embrace was hot, which contrasted sharply with the cool and fresh air. Involuntarily, you snuggled even closer to him.

— I'm sorry, did I wake you up?

— Not really. I woke up and didn't see you next to me, — Peter looked at the sea, which gradually began to turn fiery colors. The sun is rising. — We have a little more time to just lie in bed before I have to go about my business.

— I want to stay here a little longer, — you looked pleadingly into his bright blue eyes. Peter turned you around to face him. He touched your cheek, and then he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. At that moment, all you were thinking about was that time would stop. You just wanted to stay here, in the arms of your king, forever.

— No matter how much time passes, my heart will beat as fast as the day I first saw you, — you said, smiling.

There was a twinkle in Peter's eyes. Yes, this man was definitely very passionate about everything he does, and when it comes to expressing his own feelings, he doesn't even think to hold back. Before you knew it, Peter kissed your lips. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying to adjust to such a passionate kiss. First, he kissed your lips, then he moved on to your cheeks, nose, forehead and neck. You gasped when his soft lips touched your collarbone.

— I think we should go back to the bedroom,— Peter said, and picked you up in his arms.

— I think so too, — you said with a smile, flicked the man on the nose.

#narnia #narnia x reader #the chronicles of narnia #peter pevensie #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie x y/n

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starandcloud · 1 year ago

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Connor Imagine

Lil Image cause this is my current hyperfixation

Imagine working in the police department and its late, you don't think anyone else is there, and you're typing up reports with music blasting

You don't notice Connor walking in, your music in your earbuds is way to loud and is audible from them

You bob your head and do little dances to the parts of the songs that you like the most and bebop to your own beat, which is mostly why you're there so late

You tip your chair open and scream as you fall but before Connor can actually walk over and check on you, you start laughing so hard that you lose your breath

Your laughter is nice to hear to Connor, especially since it's been so grim in the station lately

He just stands there, in the door way, as he listens to your laughter

Eventually he sees you emerge from behind your desk, your cheeks a soft red as you bend over and rest your head on your hands, still giggling

Connor doesn't say anything or make any movement to get your attention, and a small smile crosses his face before he quietly walks away

You never knew he was there, but that moment still crosses his mind every now and then

Especially on car rides that are taking a while

He used to just partially power down, so he's still technically aware but not really, and "rest" or reboot his systems but now you just occupy his mind

Sometimes, when he knows your working late, he'll watch you from the doorway just to see you being so carefree and happy afterhours

Detroit: Become Human Mainlist

#dbh connor #connor rk800 #detroit become human #rk800 #Connor x reader #dbh #dbh rk800 #dbh connor x reader #starandcloud

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klarolinexluv · 2 months ago

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Jock/secret-not-so-secret nerd James and Jock/nerd Regulus.

In the way where James is natural smart, he can read something once or twice and then understand the subject. He has never gotten anything below an E on his assignments/exams. James doesn’t need to study but he does because he gets a little panicky before exams thinking he has forgotten everything (which isn’t true) the moment he sits his exams, he flies through it and finishes early (just after Sirius every time)

James is constantly doing some sort of physical activity, he goes for runs in the early morning, he pushes himself at quidditch training, he does extra training whenever the pitch is free. James is constantly moving. When he is standing around waiting, he isn’t just standing still, he’s stretching, moving around on the spot. He just has so much energy that he has to expel it somehow.

James definitely has ADHD and Quidditch is one of his hyperfixations but that’s not necessarily good all the time, seeing as he works himself to the bone and forgets to take breaks. He is in constant need of reminders to look after himself on some days. (Despite this, he does have a routine for meals he just sometimes forgets them because he is so zoned in to what he is doing that the thought of feeding himself doesn’t pass his mind until he is exhausted and half dead on his feet).

He writes little notes and leaves them around for himself to remind him of things. If he is really struggling to find focus and stay on task, he writes lists. They aren’t overly detailed, just simple checklists to keep himself on task and he takes satisfaction when he can cross things off and mark them complete. Further than that, if the list doesn’t give him that sense of achievement he also gives himself rewards and/or goals that he can aim for.

I just know that James made an extensive detailed plan on how to befriend Regulus to the point that he is so oblivious to his feelings for him until after they are friends and then he has to make ANOTHER plan to woo Regulus. Little does James know that Regulus is already half head over heels for him.

Now Regulus is also natural smart. Problem is he is very worried about his academics and succeeding that he is ALWAYS seen with a book in hand. From fictional novels to large tomes on a topic that is not even related to anything they are studying.

Regulus spends ALOT of time in the Library. Usually alone because studying around other people frustrates him and distracts him to the point that he can get overwhelmed and annoyed.

Regulus studies hard, he studies until he has mastered the topic. He doesn’t mind how long it takes him just so long as he can master it. However, this can lead to frustration for himself and self hatred for he feels he is continuously failing and that leads to thinking he is a disappointment and further a lot of very bad thoughts that aren’t true but he believes them anyway.

Regulus is the type of person to NEED academic validation. Praise for his work. If he gets an E, he will beat himself up over it and push himself harder to the point, where like James, he forgets to look after himself. (His friends would argue that he sometimes forgets on purpose and that would also be true but 50% of the time, he has actually forgotten)

Flying for Regulus is an escape. Frustrated? Flying will fix it. Annoyed? Flying. Overwhelmed? Flying. Tired? Flying. A letter from home? Flying.

If Regulus isn’t in the library then he is on the pitch, and if the pitch is taken then he is sitting under a tree closer to the forbidden forest by the Black Lake.

Regulus owns a practice snitch and he carries it with him absolutely every where. Sometimes you will catch him fidgeting with it in his pocket but that is rare (he is only doing it in private and alone because he is so conscious of his image/reputation).

When he is on the pitch, there are a few things he could be doing. Flying around the pitch in circles, speeding up and slowing down, just flying lazily or at break neck speed. He will practice certain seeker moves, pulling off risky plays that few attempt and even fewer pull off. Or he is seeking the practice snitch.

Regulus doesn’t have an extensive work out routine like James does but he is passionate about Quidditch to the point where he thinks about it a lot of the time, things he wants to try, ways he can improve. He is also very good at analysing the play. I can see him going on to bring the youngest captain Slytherin have had for a long time in 5th year, I can also see him declining the position if Dorcas wanted it (and if he does give the position to Dorcas, that does not mean Dorcas isn’t talking with him about everything. Dorcas would ask his opinion on plays and shit and Regulus would break it down so throughly and Dorcas is quite proud that Regulus agrees with what she is doing).

Regulus with ASD (or Autism as it’s more known name) is so special to me. Like James, Quidditch is also a hyper fixation for Regulus. Regulus is also hyperfixated in a way on his perfect pureblood persona. He is ALWAYS masking. Always. The only time he is not is when he feels safe and comfortable. Of course he has little tells in his mask but they are very hard to notice unless you are looking for them. (Sirius is probably one of the only people who can read Regulus even when he is masking… but he has to be looking and sometimes Sirius doesn’t look).

Regulus also uses lists. Constantly. All the time. He doesn’t usually need to give himself further rewards after the satisfaction of crossing something off a list unless it’s an assignment of exam. If Pandora is with him and sees him cross something off a the list, she makes a small comment of praise that Regulus allows because it’s Pandora (I say allow but really Regulus is so happy about the praise that he hoards it. When Barty, Evan and Dorcas notice Regulus needs praise to feel yay! Yk they also start doing it but not like excessively because that would just piss him off but like smiling at him or messing up his hair, things that show that they noticed him and are proud of him without saying it).

When James starts coming around him, Regulus LOATHES it at first. It’s not part of his daily routine. (Because yes, Regulus has a daily routine that he sticks to religiously as best as he can. Regulus is the type to despise change, especially big change).

However, Regulus never tells James to leave him alone. Yes, he is mean and rude and not open minded about James and his presence at first. But James learns what makes Regulus tick very quickly and notices that Regulus prefers quiet when he is studying (James also needs quiet when studying) so one day, James just asks to study with Regulus after having sat quietly with him in the library for a few days.

Regulus agrees and this is how their tentative friendship starts. It evolves to practicing Quidditch at the same time. To helping eachother practice (giving eachother observations and then ways to improve) which both of them adore. James is praising Regulus subconsciously the entire time and eventually Regulus also praises James (and insults him at the same time but James likes that so)

It gets to the point where they just hang out with eachother for no reason. It started with James being the one to ramble and ramble and Regulus just listened to Regulus allowing himself to ramble and James listening.

Then of course, James realises his feelings and then the wooing starts (but Regulus is already half in love with him) and Regulus does not stand a chance. By the end of the year, the two of them have started dating.

Sirius is low-key relieved about it because James has been none stop talking about Regulus the entire year and Sirius is happy that they are happy.

Barty is also relieved because Regulus kept having minor crisis about it to him (Barty also threatens James with Evan and Dorcas which James is both terrified about and amused. Then Pandora threatens him and James is actually shitting himself and mental reminds himself to never piss off Pandora).

ANYWAY

Jock/secret-not-so-secret nerd James and Jock/Nerd Regulus.

#regulus black #marauders #james potter #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #aloras headcanons #aloras fic ideas

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rafesproperty · 10 months ago

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Im BEGGING so hard they make Rarry happend (rafe and Barry) BECAUSE LIKE EVEN THE CAST SHIPS ITTTT

IM THE BIGGEST RARRY SOLDIER ON EARTHHHHH I LOVE THEM SM LETS DISCUSS THEM.

The thing is that if one of them was a girl everyone in the fandom would go insane over them, but since they are boys it probably won’t even happen.

THESE ARE NOT‼️ PLATONIC LOOKS. The eyes, chico, they never lie

Topper is me asf

They would literally make so much sense. The thing is Barry is so special to Rafe in so many ways. Notice the way Rafe lets Barry talk to him (sassy, making fun of him, Barry literally going “let me lead and SHUT UP” and Rafe just going “ok🥰”, Barry going “I’ll knock that J-Crew lookin ass out” and Rafe just smirking and blushing). Rafe would NOT let people speak to him the way he lets Barry speak to him… like ever 😭 Also when Barry told him he’ll lead it was when they went after the Pogues and it’s something Rafe very much cared about. HE’S A PROACTIVE TYPE OF PERSON, he would not let someone he doesn’t 100% trust “lead,” he’s a control freak. Yet here he was, just going “okay,” trusting Barry with something so important to him.

Barrys presence is so important in Rafes life and I feel like neither of them really realises but it genuinely is. RAFE ALWAYS RUNS TO BARRY FIRST. He would NOT let anyone know he killed Peterkin (Topper and Kelce are his closest friends and he’d never tell them), yet here he was on Barrys floor, confessing to him, allowing him to see his breakdown AND —

BRO DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THIS SCENE OMFG —

He slept AT BARRYS when he had probably the worst day ever (Ward screaming “Rafe you fucked us!” at him, him drowning Sarah and Topper beating him up happened in the same day) and the next scene we get is Rafe waking up on Barrys couch. I imagine him going into absolute panic in the middle of the night and not wanting to go home to his dad, the only place he can think of being Barrys… so he goes to Barry. We were so, so robbed of a scene where Rafe shows up in the middle of the night saying “I didn’t know where else to go” with a beat up face and Barry going “Shit, country club.”

I’m just convinced Rafe felt safe enough with Barry so he always ran to him.

Their first meeting in S3 as well. I’m pretty sure that was the first time they saw each other since Barry betrayed him in S2 and Rafe was just okay and calm and ASKED BARRY FOR HELP AGAIN. Rafe holds grudges like crazy, yet he trusted him enough after his betrayal to seek him out again. Like nothing ever happened. And Barry helped him again. Because Barry always helps him (he claims it’s just for the money but the thing is he was willing to murder for Rafe and that is not something he was comfortable with the entire show, I’m genuinely convinced he would not accept that offer from anyone, murder being over the line for him… yet for Rafe? Yeah).

We could see Barry being uncomfortable by Rafes murderous temptations in a few scenes (especially the one where he tried to drown Kie), but the second Rafe asked him to kill Ward he was like ALRIGHT I’LL DO IT FOR YOU. Also Rafe was so hyperfixated on his dad, it was the most important person in the world to him, so him asking Barry to do it just shows the level of trust. He asked Barry to free him of this burden.

Also Barry DOES NOT do it only for the money. In Season 2 when Rafe comes over to pick up his drugs and asks Barry for “a piece” (a gun), Barry giggles and makes jokes UNTIL Rafe says “Do you realise it’s either me or him (John B) in this situation, right?” and in that very moment Barry switches and goes full angry protective mode and pulls out an entire bag full of guns 😭 And is fully ready to go with Rafe and to protect him and shoot a Pogue for him. But Rafe did not ask for help. He didn’t offer him money. He just asked for a gun. Barry did all of that on his own and he went with him on his own. I think that’s also why Rafe told him “You know I’ll take care of you,” he himself was surprised someone was willing to protect him and go with him out of their own free will.

At the end of S1 Barry went with Rafe after the Pogues because they owed him money, but he still handled Rafes mental breakdown pretty well (NO other character ever managed that, not even his family), he cracked some jokes and got Rafe out of the panic state by motivating him to go do something about it, and joining him.

Also the shit they say to each other…

“You know I’ll take care of you.”

“I own you now.”

“Tranquilo?”

“Tranquilo, baby.”

Barry casually saying “How does that feel, babyboy?” in S1

THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER?!

Nice try mf I know love eyes when I see them

Another thing is their dynamic is absolutely perfect. Rafe, a bit psychotic, always taking everything seriously, grumpy asf and Barry, sassy mf that takes nothing seriously and is quite literally the only person that knows how to handle Rafe and how to talk back to him.

PLUS the actors shipping them is so wholesome and funny tbh (at least we won’t have another Jiara accident uhm…)

They also ADMITTED VERY PROUDLY that they send Rarry edits to each other 😭 “You know, whenever I miss Drew we’ll run back the tiktoks” dnsjskks

Drew literally going “Nick Cirillo who plays Barry in the show, my right hand… also my lover”

That’s boyfriends right there

One more thing I’d like to add is Barry was so judgy of Ward when he came to see Rafe (in S2 right before Rafe tried to run away and Ward came to warn him from the police), now it might be because Ward beat him up in S1 orrrrrr because he simply saw Rafes state (Rafe probably told him that his dad yelled at him that day when he slept over) and didn’t like his dad a single bit. I choose to go with the protective bf option.

Again, if one of them was a girl it would be one of the most popular ships just bc of their dynamic and banter and chemistry (JJPope situation all over again).

I hope Drew and Nick manage to sneak in a little bro kiss in some of the upcoming seasons (like that scene from Deadly Class when Marcus is randomly bro kissed), feel like it’s something they would 100% do 😭… Imagine drunk Barry going “Country cluuubbb, mwah” and Rafe just 🧍🏻

And I’d love to continue with more pics and edits but Tumblr won’t let me add more so we’ll end it here.

But they genuinely mean the world to me. I think a lot of people are shipping them as a joke but I’m IN LOVE with their ship and dynamic and the bond between them.

That’s all ty for reading 💕

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the-mpreg-guy · 2 months ago

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Idk how to articulate this but Dean as a butch bi man who still enjoys feminine activities and whatnot is so important to me. It feels like that's not a type of character that's just. Allowed to be very often? Ever?

I think the fact that he has muscles and runs around in plaid and beat up leather jackets and has a special interest in cars and likes working with his hands and watches m/f porn enthusiastically while also starting fights on mommy blogs and likes to wear panties and hyperfixates on a “mom show” and gets flustered around men who are bigger and stronger than him is very neat and good character design. ♥️

#remember when he wore jewelery 🥺🤲🏻#dean is my favorite bisexual character who exists #i love him so hard #bisexual dean #dean and gender #athena.txt

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thegnomelord · 1 year ago

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With all these M!reader courting (and practically rizzing up everyone) in their own hybrid way, imagine poor Ghost, he's like toothless, doesn't know how tf to court someone of say, even his own species because he was once human

And with that rant about all the absurd ways of courting, what would he call as his own?

Would he give gifts like Gaz and Price? A piece to remember them by?

I doubt he'd be the physical type like cuddly ol soap who loves to scent,

He's practically a shadow (literally and figuratively) and I feel like the best he can do is stare and slowly blink like a cat (and let's be honest most of the time we don't see his eye) so he might even just act like a stalker and watch from afar, not much of a scent even on him if he's near, even when in the midst of battle

So what can he do then? I feel like going to Price is his best bet and when he tries to scent something like Soap it smells like nothing

I feel like he'd beat himself up on it

(Also fucking love your courting works, I've been eating that shit up its become a hyperfixation)

- ☕️ Anon

I reckon that staring would be less of a wraith thing and more of a Simon thing. Because like, wraiths don't reproduce, they're made not born. So poor Simon just has to try to use the knowledge he had before he died.

CW:NSFW subbot ghost, topdom reader, rough and quick

He likes you.

Just like he's a Riley, just like the sky is blue, his affection for you is one of the few truths of the world he doesn't question. Only problem — he doesn't know how to tell you. You're not human and neither is he, not anymore, but he's woefully unprepared when it comes to you, doesn't know if he's supposed to go about it as a wraith or as a man.

He tries; Simon's phone is full of open tabs containing every piece of information about your species, trying to find grains of truth in the contradicting mess of words. He's memorized how you like your morning coffee down to the last flake of sugar, watching your face carefully when you trudge to the communal kitchen to find your mug steaming and everything laid out near it. He knows your schedule inside out, always a few minutes earlier in the gym when you come in, offering to spot you, his dark eyes roaming over your sweat covered skin. His gaze is always flickering to you, regardless of what you're doing or where you are — watching, guarding, making sure the world doesn't take away that spark like it did with Simon Riley.

But you fail to notice it, him. Or maybe you do but don't care. Don't see him as anything but your teammate, like you should, like he should. God, what is he even doing trying to fucking woo you like some lovestruck Victorian gent. . .

Simon feels like banging his head against the wall.

Maybe then something in his imperceptibly rotten skull will come loose, tumble around in what's left of his brain like a snowball rolling down a hill to form an avalanche, or at least a vestige of a good thought; an idea, something he could use to get out of this rut.

He doesn't go to Price for advice. The old dragon finds him, knows him long enough to figure out when Simon's up to his throat in shite. Price sits down next to him as they watch you and Gaz spar, "Alright, spit it out." Price hums as he lights his cigar.

Simon's lips form a thin line beneath his mask, his fingers gripping the meat of his arm to keep his form stable. His eyes don't stray from you, cataloging every trail of sweat as it rolls down your skin, watching your muscles flex beneath your skin as you throw a punch, making a mental note to show you the mistakes you make in private and—

His shoulders fall, "'m fucked." The words escape him like he'd been punched in the gut.

Price gives him the side eye, looking him up and down. "Doesn't look like you enjoyed it."

"Hah." Simon says in a dry tone. "Always a comedian captain."

Price chuckles, wing spreading out to bump against his shoulder. "Jokes aside," he lets out a small puff of smoke, "You could just tell 'im."

Simon's eyes narrow, "What, not going to suggest I go find some obscure shite ta gift him?" If he could find some concrete information about your species courting habits he would have done so by now, would have happily torn up Heaven and Hell looking for whatever would make you look at him the same way Price looks at Kyle.

"No," Price rolls his eyes, standing up and stretching. "Just go talk to 'im you bloody muppet, going to creep him out if you keep staring like that." He nods his head towards you.

Simon's head is a dark sea of thoughts as he spars with you, tries to make it seem like nothing's wrong but you catch on quick; he's distracted, falling for moves he'd once chastised you for pulling, the edges of his form crackling like the static of a tv, shadowy smoke rising from his blackened arms as he throws a punch that goes wide.

He grunts as you knock him to the ground, your hands on his shoulders to pin him down. "You alright?" You ask, your brows furrowed. "You're not fighting like you usually do."

You can barely see his dark eyes narrow, his body still beneath yours. "I'm fine." He growls out, tries to ignore how the warmth of your body against his makes him feel, nibbling on his nerves like a craving for a drug he can't have.

"Uhuh," You hum, a little confused why he's letting you pin him down so long. "Come on Ghost, you're not getting soft on me are you?" With a huff you attempt to pull away, knowing you couldn't force words out of his mouth.

The sudden lack of your warmth is what forces his body to move before his mind does, shadows shooting out to grab you before congealing back into his arm, pulling you down so his lips can crash on yours.

You grunt into his mouth from the surprise, your eyes wide with surprise. Simon's frozen heart cracks just a bit when you don't respond, only to melt when you finally kiss him back. Your lips feel like heaven against his, Simon's eyes shutting and long tongue slipping into your mouth.

You choke a bit, pulling back to catch your breath, your eyes widening as Simon's long tongue slips back into his mouth. "Fucking hell Simon." You pant,

"Got a whole bag of tricks." Simon says, his throat dry. "I-" He begins to say, thoughts running on how to tell you he wants you but no words coming out, something clogging his throat like molasses.

"Yeah," You grin, the lights overhead casting a halo around your head. "I know." Tipping your head down you catch his lips again, your kiss deep and rough, Simon's teeth digging into your lip until it bleeds, your sharp fangs nipping his tongue, blood mixing in your mouths, arousal starting to course through your veins.

Simon's hands grope your ass, pulling your crotch down on his so your cocks can rub together. Simon greedily swallows your groan, his arms starting to fizzle, shadowy smoke wrapping around you to keep you close as his hand sneaks down to undo your belts, fishing out your cocks.

"Christ," You groan and pant into his mouth, grabbing hold of both of your cocks and rocking your hips into his, pleasure buzzing up your spine.

"Don't bring 'im in here." Simon growls and throws an arm around your neck, demanding your attention with a kiss, longue tongue pushing half way down your throat and hips bucking up to rub his cock against yours. "Just us here."

You moan against his lips and fuck, if that isn't the prettiest sound he's ever heard, his mind clouding over with pleasure and before either one of you knows it Simon's cumming, pulling you down with him, your combined cum painting both of your stomachs.

It takes a few moments for Simon to catch his breath, his pupils blows wide as he stares up at you. "Shite." He breathes out, boneless beneath you.

You grin, "You can say that again." and you lean down to kiss him again.

#gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #simon ghost riley #☕anon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod x male reader #cod smut #cod monster au #monster cod au #monster 141 au #cod modern warfare

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