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hellfireheroes · 5 months

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‘I think it’s my year Henderson.’

Gif above credit

Short summary:

Eddie Munson is Hawkin’s own King of freaks. Playing for his band Corroded coffin, as a metalhead he is used to the ridicule and hatred from his fellow Hawkin’s community members. He also sells drugs from time to time to help support him and his uncle and spends his time playing DND.

He was a one off character in Stranger things season 4 and Is heavily rumored at the time of writing this to return in season 5.

🎸 Basic information 🎸

Name: Theodore Edward ‘Eddie’ Munson. Previously [Edith Rosemary Munson - Deadname].

Age: 20.

Height: 5’10.

Birthday: November 11th 1966.

Zodiac: Scorpio.

Pronouns: He/him.

Gender: Trans male.

Sexuality: Gay.

Species: Human (in the Kas verse hes a demo-pire (basically a demobat vampire).

Race: White.

Languages: English, Elvish.

Appearance:

Eddie wears a leather jacket under a denim vest that dons Megadeth, Motörhead, and Iron Maiden patches, as well as a patch of the Leviathan Cross. The vest also features W.A.S.P, Accept, Mercyful Fate, and Judas Priest pins, and a large Dio back patch. He also dons his infamous Hellfire Club tee which is handmade.

He also wears ripped black jeans with a chain wallet and a black bandana in his back pocket.

He has long, crazy and fluffy hair which is usually styled as frizzy as possible due to his metalhead roots. Eddie also is seen with many rings on each hand, some of which have been altered with tape to stick on his hands.

Personality:

Alignment: Chaotic neutral, leaning towards good.

Archetypes: The Jester, The Creator, the Rebel.

Type: ESTP, The Entrepreneur.

Even with his big, mean and scary facade he’s known for, Eddie is a huge softie underneath the leather and chains. He plays up a goofy, jester persona for Hawkins to take the hate of but he’s actually rather thoughtful and protective of his sheepies and is willing to take hits and slurs to keep them safe.

He’s rather loud and proud and passionate about what he loves and believes in and is rather louder and brasher at what he believes against. Conformity. He despises being boxed into boxes and will fight tooth and nail out.

He’s also a huge nerd.

Backstory and present:

This section will contain parts of Flight of Icarus, the show and my own backstory for Eddie.

Warning for themes of Extreme child neglect, Child abuse, alcoholism, homophobia, Ridicule and blackmailing of someone who is neurodivergent, gore, violence and more.

Early life

Edith Rosemary Munson was born prematurely on November 11th, 1966, in Memphis, Tennessee. Her mother, Janice, having been tested and confirmed for traces of Ketamine and Coke was forced to detox and thus, so was Edith.

Edith gained her first sobriety chip before she turned one. But she was alive. Her little heart kept beating.

Janice and Al for the first few years, up to Edith’s fourth birthday cared for her the best they could. That being, Al would go and get himself into trouble with the law and Alice would shoot up on the couch. However, she still played Music records for Edith to be calmed by and when she’d remember, she’d give her a can and a fork of whatever they had in the house to eat.

Rick Springfield, Blues and Bluegrass, country and more filtered into the tot’s ears and music became her lifeboat.

As Edith grew up, she was used to the neglect and thus leaned on her uncle Wayne when he’d visit and bring toys and food. When Wayne wasn’t around, she would read to the best of her abilities the various cook books scattered around the apartment.

Until it happened.

On the road home from Edith’s 7th birthday Hotwire bash, Janice was found dead. A needle in her arm and cold blue lips.

It was hell.

Time passed, Al got worse and Edith held onto music as a way to stay afloat. Rock and roll and country held her together.

Wayne would still come over and help her with her homework and chores but he never stayed. Al hated Wayne.

Until one day, Al got sloppy.

Al Munson was caught trying to break open a car window and was sentenced to 50+ years in jail on charges of Drug possession, attempted car theft, a DUI and more. Edith was located in a messy, horrid apartment and was taken by CPS after Al was arrested.

Wayne Munson got the call at 5 in the morning about his niece being left by herself and with no family left and took the first chance he could to make his way out to Memphis. Once he got there, he was met with his niece. Head full of lice, skinner than a twig and sick as a dog.

He was told he was the only one to take her in lest she become a ward of the state and Wayne agreed in a heartbeat.

Childhood with Wayne

Edith, now Eddie, with only with a small backpack of belongings and a new shiny ID and name he picked out himself was now a resident of Hawkins, Indiana in his uncle’s trailer.

A fresh start. Legally.

Eddie during this time with Wayne found himself. He wasn’t a girl, but a boy. He wanted to be a boy, he WAS, IS, a boy. Wayne didn’t think anything of it, calling his niece his nephew. He loved Eddie whoever Eddie was. (Years later, when Eddie and Wayne shared Eddie’s 18th birthday with a bottle of beer, Wayne shared how he was queer himself and that no matter what, he loved him and would do anything for him. Eddie cried.)

He had to shave his head due to the lice and rats but, he promised he’d regrow it out. Eddie was destroyed for days. He lost another part of his mom that day, but for now, he felt lighter after the locks were shed.

He passed in Hawkins as the new boy in the trailer park when he’s first introduced. He had Wayne, someone who truly loved him and cared for him and things were starting to look up. Wayne gave him his old acoustic guitar and Eddie immediately fell in love. His passion for music reignited with a burning flame.

At the age of 12, he went to the school talent show and played a very… very loud and personal rendition of Rick Springfield’s I’m your Superman. Needless to say, they didn’t appreciate his talents that much.

But he didn’t mind, in fact, it fueled his passion for music more being on that stage, playing his heart out.

As he grew up, he got into more hobbies. Specifically, DND from an older kid he met in the library.

Eddie was HOOKED.

Eddie got lost in his little worlds of dice and dragons and goblins and ghouls. He was amazed and he couldn’t get enough. At the age of 15, 1979, he met a friend when going to the library to check out yet again, his DND book. A black kid, with a short top of hair and a flannel.

His name was Jeff.

Eddie loved Jeff. Invited Jeff to hang out every single day and even got Jeff’s number to hang out and talk.

They bonded quickly over DND and their love of rock and metal music. Together the two formed the metal band, Corroded Coffin and with Jeff on vocals and Eddie on his guitar the two were on their way to making this dream a reality.

Then. It happened.

Eddie was outed as a queer at the age of 16.

Eddie was terrified. He was labeled officially as the outcast of Hawkins and he was labeled ‘The Freak.’ Jeff stuck around even with the truth being outed and helped Eddie through it and the two became family.

Time passed.

The bullying worsened for Eddie but slowly, he molded his armor with the same hate and spit that was thrown his way and wore the pain and hatred with a grin. He used dramatics and flare to deflect even the worst slurs. He became the protector to the freaks and outcasts.

During the years 1980 to 1986, he worked at a mechanics shop as a apprentice. Once he turned 18, he was offered an actual job.

He formed the Hellfire Club in 81 with Jeff. An open invitation to freaks to have a place to breathe.

In 81, he met Gareth. And in 83? Grant.

Corroded Coffin became a fully formed band. Eddie on Guitar and the frontman. Jeff on vocals and guitar. Grant on bass and heavy vocals and Gareth on drums. They play in Gareth’s garage and mainly fuck around and get high, but it’s theirs.

To seal the deal for the band, Jeff gave them each a coffin tattoo on their heels. It hurt like a motherfucker but Eddie loves it. Loves the lopsided coffin.

At the age of 17, he meets reefer Rick.

Rick knows his dad and well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree does it? He quickly becomes a rather impressive drug dealer. Swindling rich kids for cheap pot and watered down K. The actual good stuff he’s got stashed away is hidden behind a password only a trusted few know.

At 18 he gets his Sweetheart. His warlock.

1983

Will Byers goes missing.

Barbra Holland dies.

Benny dies.

He and Wayne spent days helping the search parties try to find Will.

Then he returned, after being buried.

Now, Eddie wasn’t exactly a genius but he knew something wasn’t right with the Byer’s kid. He knew something wasn’t right with Hawkins but, he didn’t have enough evidence to back himself up so, he let it go.

A chemical spill explained some.

He did keep a closer eye on King Steve during this time and on Jonathan Byers once the rumor that he beat the shit out of Steve came out and Steve, did infact look beat.

Strange.

1984

Hargrove moved to town and it’s been a pain in the ass.

His newly crowned royal highness has everyone in Hawkins flocking to his every beck and call and frankly, Eddie doesn’t really give a shit. He’s met Billy a few times formally. The other buying pot and K from him numerous times and of course, not without a bit of bullshitting.

Eddie and Billy stayed in their lanes unless prompted otherwise. The dude looked fucking scary.

It’s also the first year he’s held back.

Higgins made it quite clear what a Munson is good for that day. Nothing. ‘You need to focus more Eddie. You won’t get anywhere if you won’t try.’

‘If only you apply yourself to your work.’

‘You don’t want to end up like your father right? I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that but you can try again next year.’

Eddie doesn’t graduate and he is angry.

1985

He doesn’t question the mallfire.

He doesn’t question Hopper dying or Billy.

He’s held back again.

He meets Max.

1986

It’s his year.

And then Chrissy dies in his trailer and he watched it happen.

And then everything he’s known or suspected that’s been happening in Hawkins is confirmed. This place is haunted, cursed, tainted.

He’s on the run for something he didn’t do. Assumptions are going to kill him. He’s being conformed into a box of murderer, satanist, freak, creep, danger.

He’s scared.

He’s on the run for days, clutching the small Walkie close to his chest as he cries for some semblance of peace. The voices on the other side his only solace.

Then he’s dragged into hell with Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley.

And then….

Hell.

He’s torn apart after a stupid, reckless stunt. But Dustin is safe. He’s left to bleed and bleed and choke and oh… god….

It hurts.

He’s dying.

And then he knows nothing. Nothing but the screams of one of his sheepies holding his bleeding and torn body. Fading into nothing.

Post canon

Now here’s where shit gets tricky, as of now we don’t know if Eddie actually survived or if he did die but! I have two ways he survived.

First, Kas:

Eddie wakes up in a hospital bed, his body colder and his head fuzzy but he’s alive. He was in a coma for months. Vecna is still kicking and Max is recovering. Eddie’s name is cleared legally but not socially.

Though, as Eddie is brought home and reunited with his family, things change.

He changes.

He becomes a monster.

Fangs, claws, wings and tails. He looses himself in the hunger and rage that settles in his stomach and longs to return to the world below. He becomes feral. He tears and bites and snarls and runs.

Vecna tries to tame him, to use him and gets his hand bitten in return. Eddie, no, Kas, tears Vecna apart.

Vecna falls and crumbles to ash and Eddie is left picking up the pieces of his crumbling humanity. With the help of the party, he becomes a person again with the responsibility to look after the upside down.

To make sure it never hurts anyone else again.

He and Steve make sure of it.

Together.

And path 2, Human:

Eddie wakes up in the hospital, his body cold and bruised and sore, but alive. He lost most of his muscle mass and even lost his tits so, free top surgery.

He was in a coma for 3 months as he healed.

He’s got other peoples blood in him and staples and more keeping him together.

His name is cleared legally but not socially.

He undergoes severe physical therapy for 4 years to get his muscles back in order and during those 4 years, Vecna is finally defeated. He was on the sidelines when it happened but he helped.

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ficsforeren · 2 years

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Tainted: Euphoria

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Secret Agents/Assassins AU, Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU, Smut, Romance, Strangers-to-Lovers-to-Enemies

Summary: You have been married to your husband for six years where you both kept secrets from each other. Little did you know that your husband was an undercover agent just like you, ordered to take your life within two days.

Warnings: penetrative sex, choking, biting, daddy kink, blow job, cunnilingus, phone sex, graphic description of murder and violence, minor character death, alcohol consumption, smoking, swearing, mentions of abusive past and childhood trauma

Word Count: 7k

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart

Twenty-eight-year-old Eren Jaeger closes his eyes. His breathing mimics the calmness of the sea before the storm, but inside his chest, a hurricane churns.

“Here’s your next target.”

That was the sentence his superior, Levi Ackerman, uttered to him five seconds ago as he slid a photo of his next target down the table. It’s something that Levi has done a million times before, tossing him photos after photos, targets after targets. Each time, Eren would respond with one corner of his mouth tilting upward, saying, “Yes, Sir,” as if he was crooning. There would be no sign of remorse on his face, no shame, and not a trace of fear or concern. To him, taking someone’s life was never a form of an atrocious sin. It’s just a way of life. And a day later, he would come back with the same photo tainted with the owner’s blood and Levi would cross their names off his list.

“How are you holding up, kid?” He’d ask him every time, checking on his conscience. “Going insane yet?”

Eren would smile. He would always smile, no matter if it was after his first kill or his seventieth. Levi doesn’t need to check on his conscience; Eren never had one to begin with. “Feeling pretty good, Mr. Ackerman.” And it wasn’t a lie.

Just five seconds ago, Eren thought he was living the best life in the world. He has a beautiful, extortionate house in a suburban area that’s spacious enough for three families to live in. His wealthy neighbors greet him every morning, send them expensive wines on Christmas Eve, and they never stick their noses too far in the things he does for a living. Eren has money, more than he could count, but he keeps it hidden in a separate bank account under a different name as he doesn’t want to raise suspicions. His fake job as a construction executive can bring quite a fortune, sure, but it will never be enough to explain the amount of money he makes whenever he manages to land a bullet in someone’s head.

But most importantly, he has you as his beloved wife, who kisses his cheek before he has to go to work, and wraps the same lips around his cock before dinner starts. Things aren’t always smooth-sailing once your honeymoon phase ended, but that’s just how marriage works, isn't it? It takes a lot of effort, a lot of patience, and in Eren’s case, a lot of lies, too.

It wasn’t always like this, of course. Before he met you—before he settled down with this fake persona—Eren Jaeger was just a normal boy, or at least, he’d like to think so. He was scouted by the agency just a few months after he graduated from high school. Erwin Smith was the one who discovered him. They met briefly after his graduation ceremony ended. The blond-haired man introduced himself, congratulated him on his achievement, and pretended like he cared. Eren didn’t mind. He had been living with liars his whole life. It was people with genuine kindness who made him feel unsettled. Fortunately, he never met one.

“Nine years ago, there was a boy who was found lying unconscious on the kitchen floor of his house,” Erwin said, walking next to the eighteen-year-old boy on the sidewalk. “He was badly wounded, his blood dripping all over the floor. Both of his parents were brutally murdered. Father, thirty-six stabs. Mother, eighteen. Nine years have passed but the case remains open. The murderer is still on the run.”

“Tragic,” Eren wryly commented, refraining himself from yawning.

“Oh, but this is where it gets interesting,” Erwin smirked, both hands tucked neatly inside the pockets of his dark trench coat. “He’s standing right next to me.”

“Who?”

“The murderer.”

The young man stopped dead in his tracks, his nonchalant face turned stern. The boredom in his eyes was quickly painted over by malice.

“Yes, that’s it,” Erwin said with a taunting smile, accepting Eren’s death glare like a gift. “That’s the face I wanted to see.” His striking blue eyes showed nothing but the admiration he held for the boy. The fact that a nine-year-old child managed to wrap a scarf around his hand to avoid leaving fingerprints on the kitchen knife, disembowel his father’s stomach, slit his mother’s throat, call the police before he impaled his own skin to give himself an alibi, and maintain his lies for nine years without leaving a single clue—everything was perfectly planned.

Eren was merely a child when it happened, and he felt nothing.

He still feels nothing.

“Are you going to tell the police?” Eren asked, his brain calculating ten different scenarios on how to bury Erwin’s body under the ground—dead or alive, he wouldn’t give a damn.

"Of course not." There was mirth in the man’s gravelly voice. "Can I ask you something, though? Why did you do it?”

Eren exhaled, shrugging. "I wanted some lunch money."

"And they didn't give you any?"

"They did," he corrected, his viridian eyes showing no sign of guilt. "It just wasn't enough."

It reminded Erwin of the day he met Levi for the first time, only Eren was ten times worse. He was a monster in a child's body, and Erwin wanted to see his true form.

But Eren was more than meets the eye. Even someone as perceptive as Erwin failed to catch the sliver of loneliness that flitted through his eyes. Eren wasn’t born a monster. They made him like this. His abusive father. His controlling mother. His elementary teacher who whispered, “Keep it a secret between us, okay?” as her fingers danced across his thigh. The friends who betrayed him. The lovers who cheated on him. Eren endured it all, until one day, everything poured out like a cloudburst. It was time for him to pay them back, and when he did, he didn’t feel a thing. No remorse, no fear, no sadness, and ultimately, no pain. They got what they deserved, he thought, and he walked away with the biggest smile on his face.

But even the strongest wolf needs a pack. Eren longed for kindness. He craved affection. He needed a family. He wanted to feel what it was like to have someone he could trust, someone who could trust him, someone who would turn their back against the world just to be by his side. Erwin wasn’t that person—Eren knew that for certain—but he was the best option he had.

So when the blonde-haired man landed a hand on his shoulder, bent his head down to match his height, and asked him, “Going to college is a little bit overrated these days, isn’t it? How about we do something a little bit… different?” Eren decided to take a leap of faith.

That was how it started. Erwin gave him the opportunity he never thought he would have and he fucking loved it. He would probably jump off a bridge if he had to work at an office, sitting behind his desk five days a week, with his fingers running over his keyboards and his brain seconds away from exploding over a fucking deadline. He would have to force himself to smile, surrounded by people who would stab each other in the face just to get a higher position in the company. He didn’t want that.

This job Erwin gave him suited him well. Everyone had their own responsibility, everyone had their own target, everyone tried to survive. There was no rivalry, no positions to be chased after. They were comrades in training, partners in crime. At first, Eren doubted he would fit in, but after four years of standing under Erwin’s wing, obeying his commands, he knew this was the right path to take.

Eren was allowed to do whatever he wanted, as long as he could cross his target’s name off the list. He could smoke cigarettes during the job, could even have a filthy slut sucking on his dick if he wanted to. His job was simply to put a bullet through his target's head and call it a day. He could live with that.

There was a funny incident that happened when he was on a mission a few years back. Standing on a rooftop of a tall building, Eren was dressed in all black. From his baseball cap to his combat boots, everything was monochromatic. He had an earpiece strapped to his ear. His eyes were as haunting as a wolf lurking in the night.

The surveillance cameras had been cut off. He was untraceable. He laid flat on the ledge with his chest down and his back up, getting into position with his high-precision rifle settled securely in front of him. He was using a 338 Lapua Magnum cartridge, loaded with LockBase B408 bullets—a perfect weapon to kill his target who was standing a mile away from where he was. His name was Theo Magath, a diplomat who cheated on his wife with the same hooker every Wednesday night in the same hotel that stood right across the street.

Magath had just entered the room, his hands slipping underneath the woman’s dress as he kicked his door closed. Right on schedule, Eren chuckled, observing their movements through his scope. Fucking idiots.

He spoke into the hidden microphone behind his collar, “Target is on sight. Proceeding with the mission.”

“Copy that,” a voice confirmed in his ear. “He’s all yours, agent.”

He’s all mine, he thought, smiling. Let’s have a little fun tonight, shall we?

His phone vibrated in the pocket of his cargo pants. It was his personal one—the number that he used for private matters. He attempted to ignore it at first, but it was growing persistent. Releasing an impatient breath, Eren took his hands away from his gun.

It was from a girl he met a week ago at a thanksgiving party. Luscious blonde hair, alluring sapphire eyes. His roommate, Armin Arlert, had kindly invited him to his family’s house for the weekend, and she was his sister, older only by a year or two. He must have given her Eren’s number. Fucking hell.

Armin was a pure kid, so kind, it was almost strange. He knocked his fist against Eren’s apartment door by accident a year ago, not suspecting that he was walking into a killer’s home. He showed him his phone screen, telling him, “Hi, I’m Armin. It says here that you’re looking for a roommate? I just recently moved into town and I’ve been trying to get a place to stay.”

Eren should have said, “No. You’re knocking on the wrong door,” because clearly, he wasn’t planning to share his grand apartment with anyone else. But to his own surprise, he popped up a can of beer, offered it to the blond male, and said, “Yeah. Go ahead and take a look around.”

Maybe it was his loneliness taking control of him. Maybe he was just bored and he thought it would be a nice change to have a healthy, living human being walking around his house after he had given death to another. Whatever it was, they became roommates, and after spending one night drinking a bottle of gin, they became friends. Maybe, even best friends.

That didn’t stop Eren from fucking his sister behind his back, though.

“Eren, I want you,” she stated in her text, which arrived a few seconds after she sent him a nude photo of her with her fingers buried deep inside herself. Historia. That was the name that was displayed on the screen. Eren didn’t know if it was her real name since he had no recollection of the night they spent together. He never cared enough to remember who he slept with. You can’t remember what you ate for breakfast last week, can you?

She was pretty, he admitted. Pretty face, pretty tits, pretty cunt. But she wasn’t special. No one was. Truthfully, Eren only fucked her because she kept stealing glances at him during that Thanksgiving dinner Armin invited him to. He didn’t make the first move—he never did—but when she closed the bathroom door behind her, dropped to her knees with his cock hot and heavy inside her mouth, Eren let her do as she pleased. It was just for the thrill. A momentary thrill.

He fucked her once and he disposed her right away. He did that to everyone. But a week had passed by and she still couldn’t get enough of him. Her texts kept coming, pictures after pictures. He had never responded to any of them before but tonight, an idea emerged in his head.

Eren took a glance at his target. They were on the thirty-second floor. The curtains in Magath’s hotel room were opened wide, showing their nude bodies on display as they rocked their hips against one another.

This should be fun, he thought, grinning. He tapped his thumb against the screen, waiting for three seconds in silence before—

“Eren,” she was moaning his name against his ear. “Oh, I’m so glad you called.”

“Hey, baby girl. Missed me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she automatically whispered back, saying it in the way he taught her to do. “Daddy, I need you. I need you so bad, I’m fucking myself with my fingers right now. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Mmm,” Eren hummed, his lips breaking into a cocky smile as he returned his hands to his rifle. “You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy…” Her voice was strained and breathless. “I can’t help it… I want Daddy’s cock so bad…”

“Now, now, what should we do?” Eren sighted his target through the scope, comparing the point of aim to point of impact. “Naughty girls should be punished, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes, Daddy. Punish me. I want your hands around my neck—” she gasped, probably pressing one hand against her throat while her other one scissored her fingers deep inside her. “Want you to choke me like last time.”

“Of course, kitten,” he said. His expression was controlled, but his voice was like a devil’s whisper—smooth, alluring, and obscene. “But Daddy’s a little busy right now. You think you can be a good girl and fuck yourself with your toy for me?”

There was a rustling sound coming from the other line before she came back with a sigh. He could tell she was fucking herself with her favorite vibrator. “It’s not enough, Daddy,” she pleaded, “It’s not as big as yours. It doesn’t stretch me out like your cock did to me.”

Eren snorted. Of course, it doesn’t. “It’s okay, baby. Daddy will help you.” He curled his fingers around the trigger. “Just listen to my voice, all right?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Magath was sprawling on his bedsheets, his lady bouncing on his lap. Eren could take a shot now if he desired, but he wanted that dramatic effect to follow after the kill. He wanted Magath’s brain to scatter across the floor. He wanted to see the light leave his eyes before his body toppled over. He wanted it all so he waited. “You know what I want to do to you right now?” Eren cooed, boredom in his eyes, seduction in his husky voice. “I want to fuck your mouth.”

Her breathing hitched in her throat. “You want my mouth, Daddy?”

“Oh, I want everything, baby.” He added a hint of yearning in his voice, wanting to make it believable. “But, I want to take it slow this time. I’ll treat you like a princess first before I fuck you like a whore. Would you like that, baby? Would you like Daddy to fuck you like a whore?”

“Mmm, yes,” she moaned, biting her lower lip. “Tell me what you want me to do, Daddy….”

“I want you to go down on your knees. I want you to stick out your tongue and wait patiently for my cock. I want you to suck on my tip before you take me deeper, and deeper and deeper.” She let out a quiet whine, her mind projecting his words on the screen behind her closed lids. “I’ll let you get a taste. I’ll be gentle. But once you’ve warmed up to me, I’m gonna make sure I’ll fuck your face so hard, you’ll never be able to forget how good it feels like to have my dick inside your mouth. ”

She keened, her walls clenched tightly around her toy. “God, Daddy, I want it.”

“Yeah?” To her, he sounded like he was chuckling, when in fact, he was scoffing. “You love my fucking cock so much, don’t you, Sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me. Tell me how much you want it.”

And she told him. She told him with every praise she could come up with, all the while fucking herself harder with her toy. Her imagination ran wild and she started to speak incoherently as she moved her hand faster.

“Mmm, that’s right, baby,” Eren responded lazily, “My pretty fucking slut. You’re gonna make Daddy lose control. I want to fucking cum on your face and watch you lick every bit of it, lapping up my dick like a naughty little bitch that you are.” He faked a groan. “God, baby, you’re making Daddy’s cock so hard right now.” But his hands were nowhere near his cock. His hands were on his gun, and he was about to take a shot.

“D-Daddy–Ah, please–”

“Harder, Sweetheart. I want you to fuck yourself as hard as I fucked you.” Magath was in a perfect position. His woman was lying down on her back, her body nearly being folded in half as he thrust into her repeatedly. It was time. “Baby,” Eren called, taking a deep breath. His fingers were prepared and steady, not a single quiver running through them. “Are you close?”

“Oh, fuck—“ she gasped, body arching forward. “Yes, Daddy—I’m close—I’m so fucking close—”

“You can’t cum until I tell you so.” He released his breath, his heartbeat seemed to slow down. He had one of his eyes closed to improve his focus.

“Daddy, please…” She sobbed. “Please let me cum…”

“In a few seconds, darling.” He counted in his head, taking another deep breath, and this time he held his lungs empty. One… Two…

Three.

“Cum, baby.”

He lined up and took his shot.

A bullet pierced through Magath’s head at the same time she moaned Eren’s name against the phone, cumming all over her vibrator. Blood splattered across the wall, red and angry, the same way her juice stained her bedsheets. Eren was the painter and he left quite an impression.

“That’s right, scream for me,” he grinned, watching the woman shriek in horror as his body fell on top of her. “Scream for Daddy.”

Job’s done.

“Oh my God, Daddy,” Historia giggled from the other line, sighing in satisfaction. “That was so intense. Did Daddy get to cum?”

“Oh, baby,” Eren chuckled, returning to his feet with his rifle dangling on one shoulder. “Daddy made a mess.”

He gathered his belongings at once, tucking his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he placed back his gun inside his duffle bag. “But you came without my permission, didn’t you?” He scolded, his voice gentle but firm. “You know how Daddy doesn’t like that.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Sweetheart.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, closed the door behind him, and made his way down the building through the emergency stairs. “What can you offer me?”

She giggled, batting her eyelashes seductively before she purred, “What does Daddy want to do to me?”

His other phone—the one that he used for his mission—vibrated, and Eren knew. The money had been transferred.

“I don’t know.” He took off his cap once he had strayed far enough from the building. He unfastened his bun, his long strands ruffled by the wind as he blended in with the crowd. “Choke you to death, maybe?”

She laughed. “You’re so funny.”

He smiled, disappearing into the night.

Eren loves his job. But today? Today he fucking wishes he never accepted it. Because the photo that sits on his desk is a picture of you and him, sharing a kiss under a lamppost with your lips curving into a smile and his fingers tangled in your hair.

It shocks him to his bones when Levi hands him your name—the woman he had vowed to love until ‘death do us part’ as his next target. But Eren remains hushed, not moving a muscle, his face inscrutable. He’s getting a taste of his own bullet spiraling its way out of his chest but he won’t show it to the world.

“She works for our competitor,” Levi explains, showing him your files. “One of their top agents, they said. Remember your target from two months ago—Darius Zackly? The one who was already dead when you got there? That was her doing.”

Eren’s blood runs cold in his veins. He had a hunch that his wife of six years had been keeping a secret from him. He’d picked up clues along the way, but he had never thought that you would turn out to be an assassin like him. One who is just as skilled and heartless as he is. Eren can still recall the bullet that pierced through Darius’s head. It was a clean shot, most likely taken from a difficult angle. He was both impressed and vexed at that time. His competitive ego wouldn’t let him fail. He was eager to find the shooter, but you were imperceptible, leaving no trail behind.

“You’re sure you can kill her?” Levi’s voice pulls him out of his stupor. “I mean, I can do it if—”

“No.” To Levi’s astonishment, it’s almost like a growl that comes out of the boy’s mouth. “Leave it to me. I��ll finish the job for you.”

I can kill her, he convinces himself. I have to. It’s better if she dies by my hands than someone else’s. I’ll do it fast and painlessly.

But as he curls his fingers into tiny balls of fists, nails sinking hard enough to tear the skin of his palms, Eren remembers the first time he met you.

And his confidence starts to waver.

***

Fate brought you together six years ago.

The sun was almost drowning below the horizon when Eren arrived at a hotel, his white button-down shirt sticking to his back, nearly drenched with sweat. It was his first time in the country and he’d already loathed how sweltering the weather was. His dark blazer was crumpled as he draped it over his arm, his tie long abandoned. He was dressed as a young man on his business trip, yet a handgun was strapped to the back of his pants, secured tightly by his belt. He loosened his collar, toying with the top buttons and unknotting two more than necessary.

“Have you made your reservation, Sir?”

“Yes. Eren Kruger.”

“Please wait a moment, Mr. Kruger.”

His agency had created a whole new identity for him, and he had been introducing himself with his fake last name more often than he’d used his real one.

He ran a hand through his long, dark brown hair, clicking his tongue in slight vexation when he noticed how oily his hair was. I need to take a shower. He snapped an elastic band off his wrist, tying his hair messily in a bun with a few of his baby hairs falling over his temple. Eren kicked the dirt off his combat boot, mentally groaning when he noticed a splotch of blood painting its side. He was lucky it was only blood, not pieces of flesh that came out of his target’s head when he cracked it open with his machete a few hours ago.

He sighed. That was the very reason why he preferred using rifles better. At the age of twenty-two, he had become one of the deadliest snipers his agency had ever recruited. He was a cold-blooded murderer, not even batting an eyelash at the close-up sight of his bullet smashing through his target’s temple. He was a monster with the look of an angel.

Eren was too busy reeling in his reverie when a hand suddenly found its way to circle almost naturally around his arm.

“Excuse me.”

***

The tall man with the most stunning jade green eyes you’d ever seen seemed more curious than stunned when you wrapped a hand around his arm as if he had noticed your presence even when you were being as silent as a cat. “Excuse me,” you said. He raised an eyebrow at your words but everything else remained a mystery. Your next line was spoken in a soft murmur. “Can you go along with me for a minute?”

He had a good sense of his surroundings, you took a mental note, but not good enough to notice the way you had your knife strapped to the side of your thigh, covered by your dress, adding reassurance if anything went wrong. He only had to spare a glance behind you to know you were running away from someone. Without asking further questions, he wound an arm along your waist, turning you around until you were flushed against his chest, deep in his embrace. He let his fingers slip between the strands of your hair, covering most of your face with his arm from their line of vision.

“Baby,” he cooed, smiling sweetly. “I thought you hadn’t arrived yet. Did you wait long?”

“No, I just got here,” you replied, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. You were lucky, so lucky to find someone who could play along perfectly without making inquiries. He took a hold of your hand, guiding it to his neck so you could curl your fingertips along his nape. He leaned in close to your ear, whispering, “I can’t wait to know your name.”

Though the way his velvety voice resonated through the air made your skin tingle, you giggled, pretending like he just whispered something sultry. “I’ve missed you too, baby.”

“Mr. Kruger? Your suite is ready. Would you like your breakfast to be carried to your room tomorrow morning?”

“Yes,” he answered, breaking apart from you but keeping his arm tied securely around your waist. “Hers too.”

“Most certainly, Mr. Kruger.”

Eren cast you a smirk, lacing your fingers together. “Shall we?”

***

With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Eren turned over the doorknob and let you step inside his suite. Perched between the hotel’s fifth and ninth floors, the room vaunts an extraordinary view of the vibrant city skyline, visible through floor-to-ceiling windows. You admired the scenery the same way Eren admired you from behind, perceiving it with unblinking eyes, your heart pulsating in excitement. Everything was breathtaking and to him, so were you.

“Thanks for saving me,” you said, eyes gleaming radiantly with the corners of your mouth quirked up. “Stranger.”

The young man chuckled, casually telling you his name before he asked you for yours. The handshake was firm, almost professional, but the way your fingers slid rather slowly against his when he was about to part betrayed all formality.

“Well, Eren Kruger,” you called, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “I would’ve been caught if you didn’t play along. You’re so natural at it. Had plenty of experience in saving damsels in distress before?”

Eren smiled, mysterious and delicate at the same time. The soft glow of the setting sun illuminated his features in a way that made him look almost like a painting. But to him, it was nothing compared to how ethereal you appeared in your off-shoulder white summer dress. You had the grace and gravitas of an empress, your smile bewitching enough to poison the hearts of men. Your eyes were pools of bejeweled water, shining brighter than the stars of heaven. There was a wild side in you, ferocious underneath that angelic smile. You’ve had many men standing on their knees before you, weakened by your glamor, but Eren wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t there for you to tame and dominate over. He wanted to own you, to have you on your knees, to strip you down to nothing–not even that seductive smile of yours–to see how you truly were underneath that demeanor you portrayed. It was the first time he felt so intrigued by someone, so aroused and captivated from the first sight, and he didn’t understand what made you different from the other girls but–

“Is there something wrong?” you questioned him when he remained mute, the cupid’s bow of your lips titillated him.

“Just enjoying the view,” he smirked in return, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, his hands buried in the pocket of his slacks. Desire bloomed in his stomach at the sight of your exposed skin, his lips itching to mark bruises on them. “You’re quite an actress yourself,” Eren countered, “Is running away from older men your hobby or something?”

“Actually, I’m more into younger guys these days.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient?” He tilted up his chin, his eyes drooping, coated with allure. “I happen to like older women.”

Your smile was both shy and seductive, just the perfect amount to fill his heart with yearning. “Then, what should we do about it?”

Eren mirrored you the same way. “I’ve got an idea.”

***

The way he laced his fingers with yours as he led you through the crowd was so natural that it almost felt like you’d known him for years. His palms were calloused and his veins were protruding under the skin of his arms, a stark contrast to how beautiful his profile was. His eyes were both heavy with secrets and yet tender and innocent enough to show how young he was to the world. Your instinct told you to not put any faith in him but your heart was at ease and your body was craving to feel the ridges of his muscles.

The ends of his strands were still damp from the quick shower he took, feeding you with imaginations of him running his hands through his hair, steam surrounding his sun-kissed skin with droplets of water sliding down his back. Combined with the way his black button-down shirt was clinging to his skin, highlighting the muscles in his arms, and showcasing the flatness of his stomach, you wondered just how perfect he’d look wearing nothing.

He was the most attractive man you had ever landed your eyes on, that was for certain.

You weren’t usually the type of person who’d spend the night with strangers during your mission in a country you weren’t familiar with. But your last job was enervating and the memory of your target’s brain splattered across the floor was really something you wanted to forget. That was why being tangled with his body under the sheets seemed like the perfect getaway to escape your reality.

“I’ll have a shot of vodka.” You heard Eren say to the bartender before he turned around to face you. “You?”

“I’ll have what you have.”

He raised an eyebrow that was soon followed by a little grin, slightly impressed that you could handle your liquor. “Then just give us a bottle of it,” he corrected.

“Is this your first trip to Bogota?” You questioned as you took a seat at a table in a secluded corner. The music was blasting vehemently in the background in a language you only understood a term or two in. Eren was sitting on the opposite side with one hand drawn on the table, his fingers nearly brushing against yours as he tapped them once or twice against the beat.

“Maybe,” he answered, his lips still smiling as he took in your features. There wasn’t enough light in the room to reveal every detail, giving him a sense of mystery of how your eyes gleamed in desire for him. Eren was only eager to unveil it.

“And how are you enjoying your trip so far, Mr. Kruger?”

“I wasn’t enjoying it until now.” He took a shot of his vodka before he slid the bottle in your direction, urging you to pour one for yourself.

“Yeah?” You took a shot. “Why is that?”

His eyes, the way they shifted down to your lips before he dragged them back to yours again, provided a clear answer. “Because of the music,” he replied, his charming smile turned into a devilish smirk. “And this.” He gestured toward the bottle.

You poured one for him. “Nothing to do with me?”

“I don’t know.” He brought the shot glass to his lips, murmuring his next words against the glass. “Do you want it to have something to do with you?”

“Maybe.” You stood up from your seat, placing your glass down with a thump. “So it speaks.” You trailed your hand along his shoulder as you walked away to the dance floor. “But does it dance?”

Eren bit his lower lip, a sensuous grin about to form on his face. Taking another shot of the alcohol, he rose from his seat, following your lead.

His hands were strong and dangerous as they circled your waist, pressing his chest against your spine, matching the sway of your hips as you danced to the beat of a seductive Latin song. You let yourself relax, dancing like there was nobody else in the room.

Your hips were pressed against one another, grinding close. You could feel the zipper of his jeans pressing against your behind. You held his hands, guiding them to roam over your body. When he raked his nails against your thigh, you lean your back against his chest, one hand going up to rest against his nape.

Eren’s lips were grazing against your earlobe, his breath fanning the side of your face. “Not sure if I’ve said this before,” he murmured, voice low and breathy, waking up the tiny hairs on your nape. “But you’re fucking gorgeous.”

With a satisfied smirk, you turned around to face him, arms reaching up to wind themselves around his neck. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you praised with a playful twinkle in your eyes.

Eren caressed your cheek with delicate fingers, his gaze locked to your lips before he moved his hand down to the dip of your spine. He tugged you close until there was no space left between your bodies. You sighed at the contact, fire coursing through your veins. His touch was electric, leaving a trail of goosebumps everywhere his fingers grazed. “Then,” he whispered again, his face finding a new favorite spot in the crook of your neck. “What should we do about it?”

The attraction between you was sizzling, almost suffocating you with it. The way he moved to the music, leading your body to follow, was sinful, almost erotic, and neither of you cared about your surroundings as if they had faded into a blur.

You wanted to kiss him, wanted it more than anything you had ever wanted. This stranger with his intoxicatingly pleasant musky scent, his dangerous little eyebrow raise, his ardent gaze, and godforsaken smirk—you wanted all of him.

You were throwing all the signs and he reciprocated with a kiss. Tilting your head by framing your chin with his lean fingers, he brought his lips to yours, lightly at first but scorchingly deep and dominant once he received your confirmation. As if you were untied from the knot that was holding you back, you succumbed desperately to his touch, fingers fisting against the fabric of his collar. His grunt was a sensual touch, fogging your mind and making it hard for you to keep up with every movement of his lips.

He pulled away before you were even the least satisfied, hooded eyes gleaming under the dim lighting.

“Spend the night with me,” he said, wetting his lower lip. His eyes never stopped perceiving the way your lips were glistening from the kiss. Eren dipped his head again, tasting the alcohol on your tongue with his own. His mouth moved to the side of your lips, tracing your jawline until he was breathing against your ear. “I need to make you cum.”

Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you were ecstatic. The way he said his words were like a dying man wishing for more days to live. He made you feel desired, made you feel worshiped, made you feel dangerous.

The walk back to his suite was filled with nothing but the sound of your heartbeat deafening your ears. You kept your eyes locked at the spot between his shoulder blades as he led the way, sliding his card to unlock the door and tugging you inside his room the second it clicked open.

There was no ado, no coquettish smiles, only eagerness and a desperate sense of urgency. The way you both frantically searched for each other’s lips as soon as he closed the door was relieving after spending hours pining for one another. He was so intoxicating that he numbed your senses at once. And yet, at the same time, he made you feel conscious of the butterflies fluttering their wings inside your stomach.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this,” he breathed heavily against your mouth, “From the second I laid my eyes on you.”

He lifted one of your legs so he could push up the fabric of your dress, his hand sliding against the smoothness of your thigh. Sparks of fire prickled against your skin but you wanted to be burned. You wanted to be consumed by him. You licked your lip once before you pressed your mouth hotly against his again. “Then you shouldn’t have—” he distracted you by taking your bottom lip between his teeth, suckling on it a little bit before he let it go. “—wasted so much time.”

He tittered, his hand shifted up to hold you by your waist. Pressing his hips against yours, Eren stole an involuntary moan out of your mouth. “Yeah?” He clamped his fingers along your wrist, brought it over your head, and pinned it against the wall. He was dominating, his grip was tight, leaving you immobile. Of course, you could break free if you wanted to, but right now, at this moment, you only wanted him to hold you tighter. “You’ve been wanting me too?”

There was a trace of mischievousness in his voice that matched how young he looked but he wasn’t the only one who could be playful. “Well,” you paused to lodge your leg between his, your knee rubbing against his hardness, giving him the friction he needed. “What do you think?”

He cursed under his breath but he had his lips smashed against yours before he could finish a word. He pushed you away from the wall and you followed his lead to the bed, never breaking off the kiss. You tried to unbutton his shirt as fast as you could but he helped you rip the rest of the buttons away. Tumbling down onto the sheets, you pulled him down with you.

Eren stood on his knees, giving you a show. The way he took off his shirt, the muscles in his abs contracting at the movement nearly made you gape, but not as much as the way his eyes were peering into yours. They were as dark as the night, so intense, and filled with nothing but wild lust. He was so captivating, his entire being was, even in the dim lighting of the room.

“I’d love to have you stare at me more,” he said, his tone teasing and dripping with allure. “But patience has never been one of my virtues.”

He positioned himself between your legs, his black jeans unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, his belt unclasped. “Good,” you replied with a smirk, circling your arms around his neck. “’Cause I’d never want you to slow down.”

Eren only spent a few seconds stealing the breath directly from your lips before he went down to your neck. His mouth sucked bruises, hard and rough. The way his teeth prickled against your skin made you hiss both from pleasure and pain.

“Sorry.” There was mirth hidden in his honeyed voice. “I’ve got a bad habit of marking what’s mine.”

He didn’t sound the least apologetic but you weren’t objecting. The fact that he didn’t hold back added so much thrill. “So, I’m yours now?” you taunted him back, just as cocky. “That’s news to me.”

“For the night.” He continued grazing his teeth down your skin. “Hope your fiancée doesn’t mind.”

Fiancée? “I don’t—” You were lucky that your mind recalled the fake engagement ring you wore earlier that day as a part of your cover. The same one that you had taken off in secret and slipped it back into your purse along with your knife when he was in the shower. He noticed that? “Well, we’ve hit rock bottom anyway,” you lied. “I’m planning to break up with him when I get back.”

“So cruel,” he faintly laughed, peppering butterfly kisses as he made his journey down your body. He settled himself between your legs, slightly raising your thigh so he could brush his lips against your sensitive skin. “First, that old man. Now, your fiancée. Seems like breaking people’s hearts is your hobby.”

You nibbled on your lip, your mind reeling in anticipation. You could feel his hot breath fanning against your lingerie. “Probably just as much as you like teasing your women.”

“Teasing?” He raised an eyebrow seductively, combining it with one corner of his lips curving upward. “You mean this?” He darted out his tongue, licking you once over your laced underwear, just right above your arousal.

You threw your head back, your eyebrows sewed together with your eyes tightly shut as you drowned in rapture. It had been a while since you did this with someone. You weren’t usually this sensitive, but—

“Oh?” He simpered, running his tongue along his lower lip as he committed your expression into memory. “That’s a cute reaction.”

“I didn’t realize you were this talkative.” Despite your effort in staying unfazed, you were aware of how your breathing began to tatter. His fingers were pressed against your thighs, pushing your legs apart as wide as he could.

“Well, you haven’t known me long enough yet. I am talkative.” He bent his head down, hooking his finger against the side of your lingerie, and pulled the fabric away just enough for him to run his tongue along your folds. “They said I’m pretty good with my mouth.” Ten seconds later, you realized that it was an understatement.

You breathed out, sighing in bliss as you surrendered yourself to him. You let him do whatever he wanted to do with your body, his expert hands drew designs on your skin like you were his favorite masterpiece. You didn’t care if he treated you as an object of desire. It was only fair, seeing how you’d been treating him in the same way. You needed him just as much as he needed you, body craving for another, and it felt so fucking good to be submerged in this kind of pleasure, to be enveloped with his warmth, to have him moving inside you—tongue, fingers, and him entirely.

Eren noticed how you brought your hand to your lips, your point finger lying between your teeth to stop you from moaning too loudly. He darted his tongue once more to taste your heat before he stopped and stole your hand away from your mouth.

“Guide me,” he said, pressing a kiss against your inner palm. His breath felt hot, almost feverish against your skin. “I’ve told you before. I need to make you cum. So, guide me.” He leaned into your touch when you slipped your fingers around his dark locks. “Tell me how you like it.”

“I don’t think you need some guidance,” you giggled.

“Or maybe I just want you to ride my face,” he corrected. “Spread those lips for me, baby, come on. Spread them.”

You spread your pussy’s lips apart with your fingers and Eren closed the space without waiting, driving his tongue past your entrance. “I want you to use me,” he said. “I want you to cum all over my face. Can you do that for me?”

Being both a spy and an assassin, you had mastered the way to keep your emotions and expressions in check, but Eren could break your facade in seconds. “Yes…”

He smiled, so angelically it was unsettling. “Good girl,” he whispered against your folds. “Now tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You felt heat creeping up to your cheeks, an unfamiliar sensation after all these years. “Just continue with what you’re doing.”

“What was I doing?” He tilted his head like a clueless child but his salacious smirk spoke the truth.

He was a fucking tease and yet, somehow, that only made him thousand times more enticing. “I want your tongue inside me.”

“Hmm,” he complied, repeating his motion. “What else?”

“Want you to fuck me with it.”

Eren grinned, eyes glinting with lust and satisfaction. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You knew you were tugging too hard on the roots of his hair but even if he was hurting, he didn’t let out any protest. He only let out a guttural groan, the vibrations went straight to your sensitive skin as he sucked around your clit. Your juice coated his tongue and he wanted the taste to linger forever. “Mmm,” he purred. “You taste better than how I imagined you would be.”

“Your fingers,” your command started to sound more like a plea with each second passing by. “Fuck me with your fingers too.”

He snorted, amusement on his face. “Acting like a fucking queen now, aren’t you?”

“I thought you wanted me to be your queen.” You rocked your hips, using his face as you pleased. “You want my cum all over your face, don’t you?”

Eren loved the way you matched his energy. “That, I do.” Using two of his fingers, he plunged them inside without waiting for you to adjust. You flinched. The friction burned.

“Did it hurt?” He asked with a cheeky grin, pumping them in and out of you. “Sorry.”

“Shut up,” you hissed. “You’re enjoying it.”

“Maybe.” He drew his fingers away, taking them inside his mouth as if he couldn’t bear a second too long without having your taste on his tongue. “You see, baby, I like to think that pain and pleasure go hand in hand. For example–” Without warning, he sank his teeth into the supple skin of your thigh, robbing a gasp out of your mouth and forcing your body to jolt in agony. You were no stranger to pain, but Eren had no mercy on his bite, a little harder than that and he would’ve ripped your skin apart. He let the throbbing ache sink in for a few seconds before he replaced them with his lips, soothing the burn with sweet kisses and teasing tongue. He licked at the wound, gently suckling on your skin before he mapped his way back to your center. “You can only appreciate pleasure once you’ve felt pain.” He pressed his mouth hotly against your heat, tongue flicking and tasting. You shivered, baffled at the sensation he was giving you. “It makes everything feel more intense, doesn’t it?”

You began to rock your hips against his mouth, keeping one hand at the back of his skull to keep him still. “Seems like you enjoy giving pain more than you give your women pleasure.”

“Well, I guess, it depends,” he stopped you momentarily to form his answer. He rubbed his thumb against your clit before he lowered his head once more. “When a pussy tastes this good,” he licked a stripe up your folds, “I’d rather fuck it with my tongue for hours.”

Eren was so good, too good, that you began to squeeze your thighs together, almost suffocating him when you cummed on his tongue not a few minutes later. He lapped up your juices, half-lidded eyes observing your expression. You’re beautiful, he thought, so goddamn beautiful I want to tear you apart.

He sat on his heels, wiping his mouth and his chin with a slide of his thumb. “How was that, baby?”

You tried to catch up with your breath. “That was… amazing.”

His smirk was so arrogant that it felt like he was degrading you. “I won’t let you sleep tonight.” His fingers toyed with the button of his jeans. “Let’s see how many times I can make you cum before you pass out.”

“Is that so?” You tangled your legs around his waist and flipped your position. Now that he was lying on the bed, you mounted yourself on his hips. “Let’s see how many times I can edge you before you start begging for my mercy.”

“Feisty, aren’t you?” He chuckled, sitting up so he could unzip your dress, one hand palming against your breast while the other one held your face. He slanted his mouth across yours, tongue slithering inside to plunder. You could faintly taste yourself on his tongue, almost making you whimper from the desperation of wanting to connect your body with his.

You yanked both of his jeans and boxer briefs down just enough to release him out of his confinement. You did him a favor by going down on him, as it was only fair after the amount of stimulation he’d brought you. Eren had his eyes closed, his fingers finding home in your hair. “Fuck,” he cursed breathily. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

You hummed in response, hollowing your cheeks until his hips buckled. “Shit, I want to fuck your mouth so bad,” he breathed heavily, voice hazy. “Want to cum down your throat.”

“Well, then,” you swirled your tongue around his tip. “What’s stopping you?”

Yanking you away by taking a handful of your hair, Eren guided your face back to his. He pressed his thumb against the corner of your mouth and you parted your lips, letting him slip it inside and press his pad against your tongue. “I want to make you cum again,” he stated, his desire burning inside him when you rolled his finger between your teeth. “With my cock this time.”

“Condom.” You stroked him with your fingers. “Do you have one?”

“In my bag.”

“Too far. I’ll just get mine.” You jumped off him, making him groan at the loss of your warmth. You discarded every piece of clothing off your body as you rummaged the inside of your purse, tossing him a packet of condom when you found one.

“It’s too small,” Eren said and when you glowered, he sniggered. “Just kidding. You’re cute.” He ripped the packet with his teeth but stopped when he saw you crawling back to his lap. “Will you do me the honor?”

You sighed, taking the condom from his hand. “Do you do this with all your one night stands?”

“Only with the pretty ones.”

You rolled your eyes but you placed the rubber around his length, stroking him gently as you coated it with lubricant. You positioned yourself on top of him, enveloping him with your warmth inch-by-inch as you adjusted to his size.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “You’re so—”

“Big?” He wiggled an eyebrow, his smirk was filthy. “Told ya.”

“I was about to say annoying.”

“No, you weren’t.” Eren pushed himself off the bed, his mouth latching on your breast, sucking bruises as he moaned against your skin. “Ah, fuck,” he hissed, tongue flicking against your nipple. Your walls were fluttering around him, taking him in to the hilt. “You’re so fucking hot inside.”

You only wasted a few seconds to prepare yourself before you moved your hips, sliding up and down his length with one hand on his chest and another one on his nape. “Does it feel good?” You asked but the answer was clear. His eyes had begun to droop, his lips on your skin pausing every now and then as he was too busy drowning in bliss.

“You sound cocky,” he commented, smacking and squeezing your ass cheeks with both palms before he rested his hands on the dip of your waist, his fingers clawing against the skin.

Every movement of your body was obscene. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it,” he answered your provocative smirk with his own.

Eren let you take control just for now, and you perceived it as a challenge. Leaning back with your hands propping you up from behind, your palms pressed flat against the sheets, you gave him the dirtiest lap dance, moving up and down his cock with your teeth biting seductively at the corner of your lip. His eyes were transfixed on your hips, lips parted in a silent moan.

“Think you can handle me, baby?” you teased him. “Seems like you’re enjoying this way too much.”

His gaze fleeted back to yours, his amorous smile reeling you in. “Think you can handle me?”

“Wha–”

Without warning, he slammed your body down to the bed, raising both of your legs high in the air, and slid himself back in one quick motion. Hard, deep and fast, he pounded into you, over and over again until you had your fingers twisted against the sheets, your toes curling in pleasure. “Fuck–” You gasped, arching your back. He snapped his hips forward, forcing you to choke out his name. “Eren–”

“Keep your eyes on me,” he reminded you, his nails digging into your skin. He rested your legs on his shoulders, hugging you by your thighs. Eren looked down at you, his voice a pitch lower when he added, “Always on me.”

His gaze itself sent a plethora of emotions coursing through your veins, enough to make your stomach twist and turn. The rough material of his jeans grazed against your skin when he lifted your lower half in the air, giving him more access and precision to hit your sweet spot. “There!” You urged him. “Fuck, that feels so–ah, do it again–”

He chortled, deep and sultry. “So demanding,” he muttered, but he gave you what you wanted, fucking you ferociously in the same spot that turned you into a whimpering mess. Had he kept it up for a few seconds longer, you knew it would be over for you but Eren slowed down the pace just to tease, right when you wanted him to go faster. “I was so close,” you mewled in both protest and pleasure, as you could feel his pelvis rubbing against your clit with each sway of his hips.

“I know.” There was a sadistic hint in the way he smiled.

“I thought you were planning on making me cum.”

“I already did.” His tongue peeked out to swipe across his lower lip, reminding you that you came all over his face just a moment ago. “Now I’m planning to make you my plaything for the night.” His hips were rolling so obscenely almost similar to the way he danced before. “Let’s take it easy, baby.” His hair tie slipped off his strands, luscious dark locks cascading to his shoulders. His grin was cheeky but the rest of his face was contorted in pleasure. “We have all night to ourselves.”

“I want you to fuck me like before.”

“And I’ll give it to you. Be patient.” Eren pulled himself away, spinning your body around until you had your stomach pressed flat on the bed. He was back inside you not a second after, returning to his previous pace, his cock rubbing fast and hard against your walls as he glued his chest to your spine. “Like this, baby?”

“Mmm, yeah,” you breathed out, panting and moaning your way to ecstasy. You had been with many experienced men before, but Eren was unlike any other. He had control over everything while making you lose yours at the same time. He brought his weight down with every thrust, giving you a sense of pleasure that was so intense, it was almost blinding.

“I’ll make sure you get fucked like you deserve it,” he whispered in your ear, his voice breathless, deep, and perilous. “Gonna make use of this pretty little cunt until you can’t walk.” A sudden thrust, one that was so forceful, sent you clawing against the bed, your scream muffled by the pillow. Overwhelmed by the sensation, your body moved away from him in reflex but he kept you still, his fingers sliding up from your chest to your throat. “Don’t run from it,” he growled. “You’re gonna take everything of me. Every fucking inch of me.”

Eren had your neck within his grasp, could crush it in one try if he wasn’t careful. His cock pulsated deep inside, his limbs tangled with yours with only a thin layer of sweat separating your skin. Angling your face to the side, he kissed you from behind. It was just as smothering, consuming and you felt your heartbeat escalating when he choked you a little harder.

He lifted you, forcing you to stand on your knees, your spine flush against his chest. His teeth were prickling against the juncture of your neck.

“Now, tell me, baby.” His smirk formed across your skin. “Who’s your Daddy?”

***

Read the sequel here

AN: Hey, everyone, thanks for reading another story of mine! I wanted to make this a mini series at first but I'm not sure yet 'cause I still have a few series I need to finish. I've already written the sequel for this (though I still need to edit a few scenes), but I don't know if you're interested so I'll just see how you guys think about this for now. If you want to see more of daddy secret agent eren, who am I to say no 😏

Massive thanks to Sandra, Joli, Coi and Ben who beta-ed this for me. I love you girls so much ❤️

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashgremlin36 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @ackersune @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza Thank you for reading, lovelies ❤️

#eren x reader #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren fluff #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot smut #snk smut #eren jeager x reader #eren #eren jaeger #eren yeager #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #tainted canon

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aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years

Note

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

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

Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.

#tf2 #tf2 scout #scout tf2 #tf2 headcanons #headcanon requests #tf2 mercs #autism #autistic community #autistic culture #red team #blu team #valve games

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shrieking-aristocrat · 3 years

Note

Love the blog name…

So, requests.

A reader getting the upper hand on bo and boutta beat the shit outta him before deciding to teach this dumbass how to life instead

- Lily

Thanks I wanted scream-queen but it's taken 😂 I like this one better now though

Reader gets the upper hand on Bo

Bo Sinclair x Fem reader

TW: light torture, threats, Bo is a bit of a masochist.

Things had gone sour quite fast. Whoever that Bo Sinclair guy was, he was more than the shamelessly flirty but respectful persona he put up when they arrived to the town. Being a hitchhiker meant taking quite a few risks, but she hadn't been expecting a serial killer, no, those were the kind of risks people who hitchhiked joked and told exaggerated stories about, stories people claimed were real but were actually just an urban legend at most, vaguely based on events that took place decades ago on the other end of the country.

This wasn't an urban legend. This was very very real.

The hitchhiker, that's what the folk she came with'd called her when Bo asked. Besides her, there were two ladies and two guys, none of them seemed to know much about her other than she needed a ride to some place that was close to where they were headed. He caught her looking his way once, and shot her one of his most charming smiles, being faced with a look that was almost judgemental before she turned back to looking around.

Her indifference got his attention more than the other two's flirty attempts at getting him to stop glancing her way and their boyfriends's glares could. It was why he'd decided to go after her first, lock her away and save her for last. That was his first mistake.

Catching them off guard was easy, people's first mistake when they arrived to Ambrose was not thinking much of Bo, and he made them regret that. The hitchhiker followed him into the basement with annoyed resignation, and by the time she realized just in how much trouble she was, he'd used the moment of realization to tackle her and get her cuffed to his chair. He left her there, going after the others so that Vincent wouldn't have all the fun.

Two kills and two unsuccessful chases later, Bo retuned to the basement, finding the door open and the chair empty.

"Damn that bitch," he cursed through gritted teeth. Something hard collided with the back of his head before he could turn around and realize he'd fallen into a trap.

When he opened his eyes, Bo's head was throbbing, it took him a minute to realize he was strapped down to his own chair, and as soon as he did, he began to trash and scream, much like he used to do when he was a child with parents who didn't know nor care to learn how to properly deal with his bursts of emotion. His chest heaved as he glared to the side, spotting the hitchhiker leaning against the wall, watching him as she held onto her own thumb in a way that confused him until a snap noise made him realize that's how she'd broken free: she dislocated her thumb and was now putting it back in place.

"That look tells me this hasn't happened to you before," she hummed, pushing herself away from the wall and stepping towards him. "Rookie mistake, should have at least knocked me out."

"I don't hit ladies," Bo spoke, making another attempt at breaking free. "But I'll make an exception just for you."

She snorted, the noise only made Bo's blood boil. He considered dislocating his own thumb to break free, but didn't quite dare to do it, he'd dislocated it once as a child, while his father was trying to place him on the high chair, and he still remembered how much it'd hurt despite how young he'd been. It wasn't something he wished to repeat anytime soon.

He straight up tried to bite her hand when it moved towards his face, but her fingers went to a spot over his ear, fingers digging into an injury made when she hit him, making him curse through gritted teeth and struggle against the straps.

"Look at me," she demanded, grabbing a handful of his hair and making Bo tilt his head back to meet her eyes. "How many of you are out there?"

"Fuck you," Bo growled and once again cursed when her knuckles pressed hard against the injury on his scalp. "Just me, damn it!"

"Bullshit," she spoke, her tone calm yet stern in a way that made Bo's heart race. "You wouldn't be so confident about taking out five people if it was just you." her hand once again dug onto his injury before she let go of his hair, the now bloody bands sticking to his head.

"What are you, an expert?" he questioned, struggling and being met only with the chair's rattling as he watched her move to where his tools were.

It was as she reached for the pliers that he saw something familiar on her arm, a tattoo of a geometric butterfly in different shades of blue. He remembered finding a newspaper in one of their previous victims' car showing that exact same tattoo as an identifying mark for a criminal that'd escaped prison. It then clicked in Bo's mind that he might have met his match.

"Well shit, darlin'," he snorted. "and here I thought you were just some chick."

"Oh, I am," she hummed, moving over and taking a hold of his hand, placing the pliers over the first knuckle. "Just some chick that will start cutting fingers unless you start being honest."

Bo glared at her, the look in his eyes almost challenging him to try. He would kill her if she did– hell, he didn't even believe she would dare; he was the deranged one, the one that made people scared. But now, as he stared into the eyes of someone who looked at him with the same look of superiority he often looked down at his victims with, he wondered if this is what they felt. There was panic as the pliers began squeezing down on his knuckle, harder and harder each passing moment; and there was something else, something stirring in his lower belly.

"Okay, wait," he breathed out, his gasp turning into a sigh of relief when she paused. The pressure of the pliers was so far enough to make him thing there'd be a bruise. "It's me and my brothers. Two of 'em."

She stared at him like she could read him mind, or was trying to, and that stirring in his lower belly turned into a tightness in his pants that he hoped she wouldn't notice.

"You've got a nice town here," she hummed. "It isn't even on any maps. It would be a good place for someone like me to spend some time at until people stop looking for me." her wrist shifted, the pliers twisting his finger enough to make Bo tense. "Now, that could happen with you and your brothers alive, or not. I don't really care. But if I have to pick, I'd say it'd be easier for me with you all dead, less trouble." she leaned forward, her grip loosening on the pliers allowed Bo to move his finger back to a non painful position. "Are you going to be trouble?"

Bo mentally cursed his body for reacting the way it did, trying and failing to will his blood to stop rushing downwards. His head was spinning for something completely unrelated to the injury: he wanted her– fuck, he really wanted her.

"I've been called everythin' but trouble, ma'am," he managed to say, trying his best to sound smug.

She leaned back, tilting her head and pondering for a moment before she freed one of his hands, moving out of his reach before she turned to the door. "Don't make me regret it, boy," she said, looking over her shoulder as he began feeding his other hand then moved on to his ankles. "Or I will make you regret it."

She left him there: humiliated, angry, and uncomfortably hard.

#bo sinclair #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #fem reader #third person narration #requested by lily

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simplyotometrash · 4 years

Text

Some Obey Me Headcanons!

Part One!!

Lucifer

Lucifer has always been the dad sibling. After each of his brothers were “born” while they were angels, he was the one to raise and teach them everything.

It’s common knowledge that Mammon is his favorite. Even if he hates to admit it. He’s hardest on Mammon because it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore.

Despite the fact that they don’t seem to get along because of Mammon’s antics, Lucifer only ever confides some of his most pent up feelings to the second born.

The only other person he confides in this deeply is MC.

Before the fall, Belphie was his second favorite brother. Even after things have settled after Belphie was free again, he can never look at the youngest the same.

All he wants is for his brothers to be happy and live on. Even if it means working himself into the ground for their sakes.

He doesn’t ask for help. Help has to be forced upon him.

With how much he works, even at home, it’s not uncommon to find him napping with a pen in hand at his desk and his head on his paperwork.

He wishes he had done better raising Satan. He blames himself for their strained relationship, but he feels as if it is too late to truly fix it.

Sometimes he also wishes he had raised Satan as his son and not his brother, considering Satan was born from his wrath.

Children, for some reason or another, flock to him.

His control issues and needing to know everything that happens under his roof stems from the trauma of the war, the fall, and what happened with Lilith.

It’s his deepest fear that he will lose his brothers and be completely and utterly alone.

A bisexual mess of a demon. No one can convince me he doesn’t have at least a small crush on Diavolo.

Mammon

Oh the second born brother. He just wants to see everybody happy. But he always messes up and ends up making people angry instead.

He has severe impulse control issues, hence why he’s broke all the time. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to save his Grimm, I headcanon that his sin of Greed compels him to spend. It controls him and so he struggles to keep money.

But by gods does he have great luck with gambling. Get him going and he will win big every single time.

But keep that money where he can’t just grab it or else he will be compelled by his sin to buy things.

He doesn’t even want most of the things he buys. His sin took root in that empty space left from the fall and being cast out by the one he called his father.

His sin pushes him to try and fill that void with objects and money when really he just wants someone’s love.

After centuries of being called scum and a degenerate because of something he has little control over, he gave up trying and gave into just being his sin.

He cries easy but only to MC or Lucifer. He won’t show his tears to any of his other brothers. Maybe Beel sometimes. But only sometimes.

He knows Lucifer’s most precious and deepest secrets. He’s his brother’s confidant. But he doesn’t even breathe a word of these secrets to anyone else.

He tries so hard to get attention, so he does stupid shit. After falling to Devildom, his family was changed forever. So any attention is good attention even when it’s him being punished.

MC is the one who showed him positive love and attention again. It is one of many reasons he sticks to their side like fucking super glue to skin.

He’s actually a total mom-friend, though you wouldn’t guess it. You’d think he is the type to get drunk and pass out at a party? His alcohol tolerance is actually much higher than he lets on. He cleans up and takes care of people after they’ve all passed out.

Leviathan

He wasn’t nearly as anxious and against socializing before falling to Devildom. He retreated into himself out of fear of the unknown world they had all fallen into after the war.

He has an anxious attachment style. He knows it isn’t healthy. It’s rooted in the trauma that losing Lilith created.

The longer he stayed closed in on himself, the worse his anxiety got. To the point he became a recluse.

He fears getting close to someone. He feels insecure in relationships, not just in himself. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough.

He’s had relationships in Devildom before, but the first one ended poorly and it only made things worse for how he saw himself. The demon only dated him because of who he was, and preferred his status as the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. Not as who he really is.

The few relationships that came after all ended before they really could begin because his anxiety monster was screaming that he wasn’t really good enough. That they only ever pursued him for who he was in status and power.

MC’s persistence to become his friend is what made him begin to do some self-reflection.

They tried so hard to become friends with him, they put so much effort into him, and they encourage him to just be himself. If they do all of that, maybe he really is enough as he is.

He does try to step outside of his comfort zone more because MC opened his eyes to the truth of himself.

But baby steps are needed.

He taught himself how to code just so he could make games. He got bored after making one and preferred playing to creating.

He doesn’t actually hate Mammon. Their little rivalry traces back to when they were angels and still growing up, competing for Lucifer’s attention. He actually loves his brother very much, despite how irritate he gets.

His envy is its own thing. It took root within his insecurities and has a voice all its own. It used to be so loud that he couldn’t think. But the growth he’s had since MC came into his life helped quiet that voice down a lot.

He’s closest with Satan and Asmo, feeling like he doesn’t fit with his older two or youngest two brothers anymore.

Satan

He knew from day one that he wasn’t like the rest of his brothers. He was always different. Born a demon, never once an angel. He knew that they weren’t truly his brothers.

All he ever wanted was for Lucifer to be his father. Not his brother.

Lucifer once was his hero, the person he admired and respected with all his might.

As he got older, his wrath only grew with him. And his anger at Lucifer grew as well.

He wanted to find himself as separate from Lucifer. He knew where he’d come from. But everyone treated him as if he were just some offshoot of Lucifer. He wanted to be his own person. For everyone to see that. It fueled his anger and built the wall that came between them.

He’s an excellent shoulder for comfort. He often comforts Levi when he breaks down or provides reassurance to Asmo.

These three are the middle children, they stick together.

He was alive when the Library of Alexandria was burned. Even though he wasn’t supposed to go to the human realm, he saved some texts from the library and keeps them safe.

The real reason he wears his jackets the way he does is just like when you’re in bed. If it’s full on with both sleeves, he’s too hot. If he doesn’t have it on at all he’s too cold. So one arm in a sleeve and one arm not in a sleeve.

Asmo has tried and failed to give this boy fashion help. He refuses to take it. He thinks he looked like an intellectual (for the love of god please lose the black undershirt at least, Satan).

He carries cat treats and cat food in his bag at all times in case he comes across a kitty in need.

He has sneaked many cats into the House of Lamentation. Lucifer knew the entire time but let Satan have a few days before he “found out” about the cats.

His wrath has burned strong for so long, even when he was passive, that he didn’t know what it was like to feel calm. But MC’s very presence sends a wave of peace right to his very core.

Asmo

If you’re insecure and you know it clap your hands.

Levi might seem like the king of insecurity, but Asmo takes the cake.

He masks his insecurities with what people think is narcissism and over confidence. He puts on a show so nobody knows how he really sees himself.

Lust was always shoved down his throat as sexual only. So he went with it. He was supposed to be the Avatar of Lust. To be what was expected of him and to make sure he was liked, he did what he thought everyone wanted.

And it turned him into someone he never wanted to be. He didn’t know how to find himself again.

He isn’t nearly as sexual and lewd as everyone thinks. He’s touchy and clingy, yes, but touch is his love language.

When he’s hurt or doesn’t feel well, if he’s had a bad day, if he’s sad- all he wants is to be held by the person he loves and who loves him. He wants to hold hands or link arms. He wants to wrap his arms around them all the time.

But because everyone in Devildom only saw him as a sex symbol, he had to bury his truest desires. He had a persona to keep up.

While he does love to take care of himself, he used to break mirrors because he was so sick of who he had become. It took a lot of time for him to get through it.

His MC is the only one who wasn’t tainted by his power. A power that seemed to just be active all the time whether he wanted it or not.

Everyone was all over him but it wasn’t as if he could control it. His sin was always active, it attracted people.

But MC wasn’t interested or affected.

And that was what was most attractive to him.

They saw him for who he was and encouraged him to just be the true Asmo. Not the Asmo everyone wanted to see.

He is excellent at sewing. He loves making his own accessories and clothing from his own designs.

He’s ambidextrous. You think that the king of fashion only uses one hand? Darling, if he only used one hand then his homework would never get done. He write with one hands and be painting his toes with the other.

One of the few people that can get Levi out of his room to hang out. They’ve always been close. Sometimes he does that just so the others can get Levi’s laundry and dirty dishes.

He’s the most emotionally open and stable of the brothers. He’s made peace with his inner monsters and can coexist with them. He’s also surprisingly good at advice.

Can and will break into Lucifer’s study to make the eldest relax because he’s working too har.

He has bobby pins on him at all times. Not just for fashion but for lockpicking! He can be clever and beautiful!

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

Text

Unprofessional [pt. 2] /// Yandere Tendou x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Bro can I request a super smutty yandere tendou x reader please there’s literally no content for him and I’m just a honry simp for him 😔 (also your writing is FANFUCKINGTASTIC I have read and reread all of your docs dude at least twice in conclusion you’re my favorite writing blog now)

A/N: Thank you omg I’m so honored, seriously I’m blushing?? Also I love Tendou too so ty for the request. Finished the second (and final) part one day late for his birthday 🎂🥳🎁🎊🎉

Summary: The new hire you’re supposed to be training at your office job is a little too attached for his own good…or yours. [Part 1]

Tags/warnings: yandere, timeskip (Tendou is 23), noncon, mildly inebriated sex, restraints/bondage, threats, Tendou is incapable of shutting up, liberal use of “senpai”

You look so cute like this, wrapped up like a pretty birthday present just for him. Tendou likes you so much it hurts.

Your breaths are intentionally steady, like you’re counting out the proper number of seconds on each inhale and exhale in an effort to appear calm. Your chest heaves lightly, and he’s got an almost-perfect view of it with your blouse unbuttoned and your bra pushed up over your tits. He’d prefer to have you completely topless, but with your hands tied behind your back with his belt, his options are limited.

Tendou’s already shimmied your sensible pencil skirt down over your thighs to expose your legs. You looked so sexy in just your open shirt and pantyhose, but he had to take the hose off for access. Besides, removing the sheer black fabric (slowly, so that it wouldn’t rip—he knows those things aren’t cheap) gave him the opportunity to feel up your legs. Panties came next, and now you’re on your back glaring up at him with your legs crossed and folded to hide your naked pussy.

It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Of course he took a few pictures.

The only issue is the gag. Tendou has his tie wound over your mouth to keep you quiet. It won’t do—he wants to see your face, after all—but he’s already got a fix, in the form of a little square of plastic he takes from his pocket.

He holds it up close enough that you can see it. “Do you know what this is?”

You don’t nod or anything, but you definitely recognize it—a condom.

“We’re going to have sex, senpai.” Tendou picks up on the little catch in your breath when he says the word ‘sex’, but he doesn’t think about it. “I don’t really care if I wear a condom, but I think you probably do. Is that right?”

You don’t respond.

“Senpaiii…don’t be stubborn. Nod yes for a condom, or else I’m not gonna wear one.”

You glare like you want to kill him, but you nod. Haha, how cute.

“Okay, good. I like when you do what I tell you. Now, I want to take the gag off, but I won’t do it if you’re going to be loud, you understand? It’s rude to bother your neighbors late at night. And…” He pauses. “Just to make sure you play nice, if you don’t listen to me I’ll take the condom off and cum inside. You don’t want that, do you?”

You shake your head frantically.

“Thought so.” Tendou’s pale, nimble fingers splay out over your inner thigh. “Then can you promise you’ll be nice?”

It takes you a long minute during which Tendou entertains himself petting the sweat-damp skin of your thigh, but you finally nod.

“Great!” Tendou grins and reaches down to untie the gag.

You take a minute to open and close your mouth, probably trying to stretch out the stiff muscles before you speak. Your voice is impassive and cool like you’ve been practicing what you’re going to say. “Tendou, you need to untie me. You’re very drunk and not in your right mind. Don’t do something you’re going to regret.”

Instead of listening to you, Tendou chooses to strip. Your composed mask slips for a second when he takes off his boxers to reveal his stiff, throbbing hard cock, already aching red and drizzling strands of precum onto his hand when he strokes it up and down. “Don’t worry baby, I sober up quick. I might be a lil tipsy but I’m not gonna have any trouble performing. Not for you.”

He crouches down to center you in between his arms, holding his head directly above yours. “And besides—“ you try to pull back away from his hot breath but your limited range of movement prevents you from getting anywhere— “I’m not going to regret this.”

Your lips are soft under his and you still taste fresh and sweet and minty from the toothpaste. You’re unresisting when his tongue prods into your mouth, but that’s not enough. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs, and you do. Maybe it’s just mindless—he’s sure you’ve kissed other people, as much as he’d like to pretend otherwise—but the movements of your lips and teeth and tongue against his feel almost eager.

“Ha…my first kiss with senpai,” Tendou says, pulling back and licking over his swollen lips. It would be nice to take his time with everything, but there’ll be more chances for that later. He loves the way your eyes trace him as he sticks his own fingers in his mouth to cover them with saliva.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but your question is answered when Tendou easily pulls your legs apart and settles himself between them so he can have easy access to slide his spit-soaked fingers up the length of your slit. “Tendou—Tendou, wait—“

He shushes you and continues to drag his middle finger all the way up from your entrance to your clit, letting the rough texture of his skin combine with your slick lubricant and give you just enough stimulation to make your hips twitch. “Mm, you like that? Gotta get you ready baby…not to brag, but I’m a little bigger than most guys. Wouldn’t want to—oh, easy, easy, relax—wouldn’t want to hurt you.“

You wince and then try to hold it back, school your expression so he won’t see the discomfort on your face when a single finger pushes into you. It’s not that painful, but the physical feeling isn’t nearly as bad as the fact that you don’t want any of this.

“How is that?” Tendou asks, slowly rocking his index finger in and out of your pussy, barely curling the tip to seek out your g-spot. You suppress the minuscule jerk of your core as best you can, but you can’t quite make it invisible and he feels it. “That good, huh?”

You want so badly to be angry. You are angry. If you could speak your mind right now, you’d tell him to go to hell. Yes, it feels good (and even admitting that to yourself makes you want to curl up and die), but it’s just hormones, stimulation, reaction. You can’t help it. But you’re not going to say that to him, not if you have the least chance of convincing him to stop before he goes any further. “It’s…fine. But, Tendou—“

“Knew you would like it. Oh—“ Another finger forces into your cunt. “—you’re tight, senpai. It’s been a while, yeah? You don’t have a boyfriend, I’d know if you did…and you’re not the type to do this casually. Too focused on your career.”

“I…mm…” What is he saying? Typical Tendou running his mouth even while you’re focused on him fucking you with those long fingers, prodding away at that spot—that fucking spot that is somehow, somehow—

—making you wet.

It’s not like some kind of precision activity. Tendou isn’t building you up or being subtle about it. There’s no teasing, no gentle touches, he’s just stroking that same spot over and over and the flat of his hand is mashing against your clit carelessly and it’s so stupid and so messy and there’s nothing kind or loving about it so why is it working?

“Feel that? Feel how wet you are?” Tendou has that same self-satisfied grin as he works his fingers in and out. “Poor senpai… You needed this, but you can’t ask for it yourself, I understand.”

“I don’t need anything…” you say, but you can’t expect him to believe you when your juices are slipping in and out of your hole along with his fingers, lubing him up to move even faster than before. When he started, you were so tense and tight that he could barely twist his fingertips up to pad at your g-spot, but now? Your walls are hot and sticky and supple, sucking him back in every time he pulls out.

He wants to make you cum, he does. And if he keeps going, it’s not going to be long, is it? But it’s your first time together… Tendou feels his cheeks getting hotter. First time with senpai, first time seeing you and touching you and having you totally, completely belong to him. The first time he makes you cum, it should be together.

If he’s not mistaken, you look almost disappointed when his fingers work their way out of your pussy, drawing away from you and wiping clean on the inside of your thigh. “You—You’re not…?” you question, trailing off when apparently you can’t bring yourself to ask for it.

“Don’t worry baby, plenty of time for that when I’m inside you.” Tendou walks his way up on the bed to leave a kiss on your forehead, so quick that you can’t cringe away when he does it.

You look off to the side, determined not to give him the satisfaction of eye contact—not to mention you hate looking at him, you hate seeing his stupid creepy face leering at you like you’re…you’re lovers or something. Like he’s not forcing you. But your attempt to maintain even that measly degree of avoidance shatters when you hear plastic crinkling. Ripping.

He’s opening the condom.

“Tendou—Tendou, wait! Listen!” You swallow and try to pull yourself back into your workplace persona, the mentor he respected and learned from, even if it was just an act. “Listen to me, please. You’re making a mistake. If we—if we stop now, we can forget about it...we can go back to normal, I promise. Do you hear me? I promise.”

“Normal isn’t enough anymore. Y’know what normal is for me? I’ve loved you for fifteen years. Wanted this for so long.” Tendou rolls the condom on and then hikes your ass upward so his cock is lined up with your slit. “Senpai, don’t you think you’ve had your way for long enough? It’s time…it’s time for me to get what I want.”

For the first time since he caught you and pinned you down on the floor of your living room, you struggle, really struggle for all you’re worth. The stiff leather of Tendou’s belt bites into your wrists and forearms as you try and get out of it, but the restraints hold firm—in fact, it feels like they’re getting tighter the more you move. Your hands are going numb from lack of blood flow, the prickles of pins and needles stinging into your skin, but you ignore it. You’re too worried about being heard to scream (and how twisted is it that you’re more scared of your neighbors than him?) but you jerk your leg up in an attempt to kick him away.

Tendou catches your foot before it can hit him. Easily. It’s like he sees everything you’re doing before you do it. “Hey, hey, stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Let me go, Tendou!” you hiss as loudly as you dare.

“Senpai…” His grip on your lower thigh tightens, a warning. “What did I say about being nice?”

You go limp. You don’t want to have sex with him, but you cannot—absolutely cannot—have him do it unprotected.

Tendou sighs as you relax in his grasp. “Good choice… Always so rational. But I want you to say it out loud, okay? Tell me you know what’s going to happen if you misbehave.”

Once again, you find yourself avoiding his gaze. How dare he say he loves you and then treat you like this. “…You’re going to take off the condom.”

“Yeah…” Once again, you feel the thick, stiff cock nudging against your inner thigh. He slides it up between your lips to slick it up. “And what am I going to do when I take it off?”

“You’ll…put it in raw. And…”

“And?”

“…c-cum inside.”

“And you don’t want me to do that. So behave, senpai.”

Tendou pushes into you in one deep stroke and you gasp. ‘A little bigger than most guys,’ he’d said. A little bigger? He’s a liar, again—he’s so big that you can already feel the thick head flush against your cervix, pressing there like he wants to go deeper. “T-Too deep, it’s too deep—“

“Shh, you just gotta get used to it…” Tendou leans down, folding your legs up into your chest so he can trap you between him and the mattress and speckle light kisses over your face. “You have to relax. I’ll be slow.”

The position is uncomfortable. He’s got your spine curled up off the bed and your thighs are burning from the stretch, but his skin bumps against your clit every time he makes the slightest movement. Once you’re steady, he pulls back a fraction and then thrusts back into you, barely moving, just enough that you can feel the pressure of his cockhead receding and then hitting back against your cervix. It��s slow, but it’s not slow enough—nothing is slow enough with how big he is.

Tendou kisses you again, pulling your head back to center so he can shove his tongue into your mouth just like he’s shoving his cock into your pussy. He’s not content to keep up the languid pace for long, though—as soon as you’re the tiniest bit relaxed, as soon as the barest muffled whimpers are forced out of your mouth, he’s lengthening his thrusts and slapping the entire length of his heavy cock back in and out of you.

You almost wish he would stop dragging it out. You don’t want to feel this, any of this, not him groaning into your mouth, not the weight of his body holding you down and spreading your thighs apart, and definitely not the dizzying friction of the head of his cock on your g-spot. You wouldn’t even be feeling it like this if he hadn’t prepared you and left you wanting.

You close your eyes and try to pretend that it’s someone else doing it to you, but it’s impossible. Tendou was right earlier, it’s been too long—there’s no one else in recent memory who you can picture in his place. Besides, it’s not like you’ve ever been fucked like this. Everything you can sense is screaming out that it’s him, him, him, from his whiny voice moaning out love confessions you don’t want to hear to the spicy-sweet cologne, the same one he wears around the office, now mixed with his sweat and so saturated you think you could choke on it.

You’re trying to imagine someone else’s cock driving your pussy open, anyone else—a boy you had a crush on in high school, the guy you’d lost your virginity to in college, even an actor you like—but it doesn’t work, because no matter who you try to pretend is fucking you you know it’s Tendou.

“Hey—senpai, look at me…” He’s patting your cheek, trying to get you to meet his gaze. “Open your eyes…look what I’m doing to you.”

“Don’t…don’t make me…” You shudder as he pushes all the way back in, bottoming out so he can grind his hips cruelly against your mound and provide untidy stimulation to your clit.

“Look.” Tendou’s voice is hard. He isn’t asking anymore.

With the threat from earlier hanging over your head, you don’t have a choice, do you? You open your eyes and look at him.

Tendou Satori. Even in the middle of drilling you, he’s beaming like you’re making him happy. There are twin pink patches high on his cheekbones under his eyes. He’s sweating—makes sense, he’s doing all the work. His lips are red and swollen from kissing you.

Tendou Satori, who brings you coffee at work even when you didn’t ask for it. Who misspells the same word 3 different ways every time he writes up a sales contract. Who said during his first interview that his greatest weakness is that he has a habit of going with his gut, and that his greatest strength is that his gut is usually right.

How is this the same person? No…no, that’s not what’s making you upset. It’s not that the Tendou fucking you is somehow so different from the one you thought you knew. It’s that he’s the same, the same man who never really listens when you say no, who never stops touching you when you say it bothers you. This is just the next thing. It makes sense.

“Senpai?” Tendou’s hips slow and he leaves his cock sitting thick and hard in your battered pussy. “Senpai? Are you…you’re crying?”

He’s blurry and your eyes sting and you want to wipe at them, but, well, your hands are tied. Literally. Tendou holds himself over you with one arm so the other can thumb over your wet eyes. “Don’t touch me,” you blubber out, knowing it won’t have any effect.

“Shh, shh, stop crying,” he says, sounding panicked. “Please stop crying. Please stop.”

Your silent weeping is interrupted by a whimper as he pulls out of you. You feel…something, maybe relief or maybe disappointment, but mostly you’re just overwhelmed. You’re slack as a puppet while he flips you over and carefully unbuckles the belt from your arms. The pins and needles return in full force once you’re unbound, discomforting to the point of pain as Tendou massages over the tender flesh with his own hands.

“Sorry…Looks like it was a little too tight.”

Once Tendou’s released you, you hold up an arm to examine yourself. There are red marks where the edges of the belt dug into your skin. Your hands are still prickly, still desensitized as you clumsily rub your eyes, but you just can’t seem to stop crying.

“Shh,” Tendou says over your shoulder from where he’s sitting behind you, and you’re so sick of hearing him shush you but you can’t bring yourself to respond. “I love you, senpai… Please don’t cry.”

The way he says it—so hurt, so caring, so desperate, makes your heart ache. You’d almost believe him…if he weren’t pushing you back down onto the bed, face first this time. You don’t have the energy to resist as he pulls your ass up to his hips. At least now you can bite down on the sheet to shut yourself up as he fills your aching cunt again.

This time, though, now that he’s fucking you like a dog, he’s got the space to reach down around your hips and stroke your clit. The shock of the contact is enough to scare the tears out of your eyes and you cry out.

Tendou takes your response as permission to do more, rubbing over your button with no regard for how delicate and sensitive you’re feeling. “Yeah, yeah, you like that… Senpai likes it when I touch her needy little pussy? Come on, let me hear you.”

“Tendou—mmph, Tendou, st—ahh…?” But you can’t really tell him to stop. You don’t want him to stop. If you’re going to have to get fucked like this, shouldn’t you at least get to get off? It’s only fair.

Fair. The thought crosses your mind and you almost laugh—maybe you would if the force of Tendou’s body weight wasn’t smothering your face into the pillows. Nothing about this is fair.

“Do you like it?” You can hear how excited he is. “Tell me—tell me you like it, senpai? Please. Please?”

With trembling arms, you raise your upper body off the bed just enough so that you can turn your head to the side and speak. “Keep touching me. Like that.”

He does, padding over your clit senselessly while his cock does its brutal work on your insides. You feel…fucking amazing, and Tendou’s so happy, so grateful to have your beautiful pure dirty body holding onto him, sucking him into your cunt and holding yourself around him like you’ll fall apart if he’s not inside you filling you up. Your pussy is incredibly responsive, clenching down in him in time with his fingers moving on your clit. God, he could cum right now…but you have to cum first, he has to make you cum, it has to be together.

He’s so glad you’re not crying anymore. You like it, he knows you do. He’s had you getting closer and closer for a while now, and all the ups and downs and stopping you before you can cum are definitely making you need it even more.

You’re getting louder. You probably don’t even realize it, but you are. Tendou wishes he had something recording.

“I’m—fuck, I’m…c-cu…” Telling him is reflexive, a gesture of courtesy you’re used to from previous partners. He doesn’t deserve it, but you give it to him anyway.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Tendou coos. His touches grow even rougher somehow, abusing your clit while he nudges himself out so he can slide his cock back and forth over your g-spot. The aggressive rhythm of the stimulation has your spine arching up and he pushes you back down to keep you in place. “Stay down…let me do it for you.”

“Tendou!” you cry out, and he feels it, feels you cum, feels your whole body wracked with tremors, feels the walls of your cunt squeeze his cock like you’re trying to hold him inside. Fuck. Fuck. It’s too good, your pussy is so tight and warm and drenched in your juices, he can’t think, he wants it, wants to cum, wants to cum with you, together, together, together.

Tendou’s hand leaves your clit just in time to grip your ass and slam himself back into you, holding you impaled on his cock while both of you shudder through your post-orgasm aftershocks. “Senpai…senpai. I love you,” he gasps, and cums, hips jerking against yours as his mind goes blank for a second.

Fuck, it feels good, feels like his eyes are rolling back in his head.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Tendou…” It’s all you can say. You can feel him getting softer inside you, and he pulls out to take off the condom. Once he’s gotten rid of it, you let him flip you onto your side and lie next to you on the bed.

“How was that, senpai?” Tendou asks, kissing you slowly. He cuddles up to you, pulling your back into his chest so your bodies are fitted together like puzzle pieces. His heart is pounding like a rabbit’s—you’d think it was cute if not for…everything.

You’re quiet.

“I know you liked it.” Another kiss, this time on the back of your neck. “You needed it just as much as I did. And I know you won’t want to admit it at first, right? You’ve got your professional reputation to maintain, I get it. But don’t worry—“

You wish he would shut up. You wish he would leave you alone. You wish he wasn’t holding you so close that you can feel his cock against your ass, and you wish—you wish you couldn’t feel him getting hard, again.

“—this was just our first time. And there’s gonna be lots more. You and me? We’re going to be together forever, senpai.”

#Tendou Satori x reader #Tendou Satori #Tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #Tendo Satori x reader #Tendo Satori #Tendo x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere Tendou Satori x reader #yandere Tendou Satori #yandere Tendo Satori x reader #yandere Tendo Satori #smut #tw noncon

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kiss4kazu · 4 years

Note

ooh! can i request something spicy?? maybe headcanons of claude, dimitri, and felix’s kinks?

spicy hcs | dimitri, felix, claude

this is combo between just kink hcs and also how first times being freaky w these three go hahhahahahhahah screams. this is not safe for kiddos so proceed with caution folks

felix <3

whew, okay. sweats. um

so the first time u and felix do the do was definitely not planned. things tend to escalate a lot with felix when it comes to intimacy. pecks goodnight lead up to make out sessions and all of a sudden his hand is down your pants and you’re honestly not complaining.

felix is definitely more of a giver than a receiver, not because he liked giving, but because he liked being in control. he liked seeing you writhe beneath him and all that jazz.

he’d definitely deny you from reaching your high multiple times, partially to draw out the activity since you tend to come quite quickly beneath his touch but also because hearing you whine his name helplessly was a really big fucking turn on and he always swelled with pride knowing he was the only person who can turn you into a sobbing mess.

felix has 2 moods. his soft and pliant types of fucking, and his arrogant, i’m big bad felix fraldarius and my cock is 30inches long type of fucking. he knows hes hot, he knows he has a pretty dick, might as well utilize it.

he hates praise when it’s ingenuine, for things intangible that he hadn’t earned himself. when it’s people praising him for his title or the power of a fraldarius battalion.

but praise when it comes from you? when it’s you letting him know just how amazing he feels inside of you, how with every thrust of his hips your brain short-circuits and your eyes water with unspilled tears? when it’s you not being able to even form coherent words anymore because felix fraldarius is throbbing inside of you... yeah, that kind of praise. it does wonders for him and his dick.

he’s also into hair-pulling

and overstimulation

hes also rly rly easily jealous like if someone else was making eyes with you or perhaps you were giggling a little too loudly with some handsome noble he’d just yank you away and march u up the stairs to his dormitory before kissing you hard

he’s the type to make u beg and be rly possessive he’d just fuck you so ruthlessly hair stuck to his skin, panting “you’re mine. mine. say it” and u would just cry bc why tf he so sexy hello-

as mentioned in my kissing post, felix sucks the life out of you when he kisses you so it’s only logical that he fucks the life out of you too.

im kidding ofc!! not rly

although he’s on the giving end of things, it’s still completely self-indulgent, felix gets off just knowing he’s getting you off because he’s a sexy narcissist like that.

but on some days, he really really wanted you to know he cared a lot about you.

felix isn’t the best with words, but he was really good with his tongue, so things usually worked out okay. he’d kiss you, everywhere. every inch of you, leaving hickeys in even the most visible places because who fucking cares. you were his, he needed you to know that. he needed everyone to know that.

he can be sensitive sometimes too, make love, if you will.

he has to be rly emotional tho, so it’s probably after something eventful happens in his life. like when the kingdom takes back fhirdiad, or wins the war. or when he’s sleepy and tired and wakes up hard and is just too lazy to put on his big bad scary persona.

sleepy felix is submissive felix, aka my favorite felix. sleepy horny felix is all whiny and blushy and just wanted to come and he absolutely despised himself for it

you were well aware of how much he hated himself for being soft and needy, but that made teasing him all the more fun.

so yes, some nights felix would fuck you brainless and soak in the sound of your voice crying out his name helplessly. but on other nights, felix would lay down, his hair splayed against the pillow, your fingers twirling his locks and tugging gently as your other hand jerked him off, lips pressed against his as you breathed in his whines and grunts.

hearing him whine was a really rare sight, but it did slip out occasionally, when you squeezed the base of his member unexpectedly or when you took him deep into your throat and swallowed around him. felix really likes fucking your mouth.

yeah felix is an emotionally constipated sex god

claude !

whew lord.

ok so claude, my sweet, cheeky, little shit <3

the first time probs wasnt even intentional with him either he was just teasing you a little too much and things got a bit carried away but it’s a great time nonetheless

doing the do with claude is probably a rollercoaster ride, he would literally never shut up and would just say the most stupid things and you’d hate yourself for still being so desperate for his touch because somehow in between his terrible jokes and merciless teasing he whispered complete filth into your ears.

he’s a master of dirty talk, chuckling against the shell of your ear at the sound of you choking out a sob at his words, tugging at your earlobe just to spur you on even further.

“don’t tell me you’re clocking out already?” you’d just glare at him in frustration despite your flushed cheeks and he’d kiss you on the tip of your nose and laugh in amusement at your misery

he’ll literally do everything but fuck you, covering every inch of your skin in love bites, especially your chest. he’d literally eat you out or suck you off until you were dizzy but if you want him inside of you, he’d definitely make you beg.

if you ever tried to get smart with him… um, he’d uh .. p-punish you

not like in a pain kink type of way he’d just pull out right before you could nut and would laugh maniacally in your face afterwards because that’s what you get for being a smart ass ! denying u from coming is basically how he punishes u so its a pretty long night but claude’s really really good with his tongue so you’re guaranteed to come like 3 times at minimum anyways

he’d devour you, all smirks and with eyes filled with mirth and he wouldn’t give in until you were absolutely wrecked under him.

he’s very um… dominant, i would say

but not an aggressive dom, definitely a playful dom who enjoys edging and teasing a bit too much

he’s also pretty experimental, i can see claude as a bit of an exhibitionist also, he’d probably fuck you in the cathedral just for shits and giggles

but he is human and despite how much of a little shit claude is he’s just as wrecked as you he’s just much better at hiding it

he’d probs quit the teasing once he himself can’t handle it anymore

and wow uh thats when claude gets all sensual

when claude’s kind of in overdrive and completely uncoordinated just messily thrusting over and over again to finally get you both to that place thats when he becomes all romantic and lovey

would compliment you to no amounts end, call you all sorts of pet names like honey, sweetheart, baby, etc.

his messy curls would stick to his skin, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, verdant eyes blown wide maintaining eye contact with you just for that extra level of intimacy because watching you when you’re like this really drives him over the edge.

he’d pant against your lips, kiss you roughly and somehow find it in himself to even let out an amused laugh because he’s having sex and that’s kind of funny for some reason

claude’s pull-out game probably a1 but idk he’s possessive in less conventional ways so i feel like he’d get off to the thought of releasing inside you and watching him drip down your thighs bc yea

claude is also the king of aftercare let it be known

he’d have so much energy after sex for some reason like he’d just hop right up clean your bodies, fetch you tea if you wanted some and curl up with you resting on his chest, running his fingers over the skin of your arms tenderly and smiling softly to himself when exhaustion takes over you and you slip into a warm slumber against his chest.

i love him bye

dima

ok so dimi is a busy busy boy and even when he does have free time he’s never entirely there his mind is always kind of somewhere else u know

he’s always struggled w getting a proper night's rest and always overworks himself into hysteria

so, as his lovely s/o, you presume a nice session to destress will help loosen those knots in his muscles and all that chaos whirring around in his mind

you were thinking a nice trip to the sauna or something

but dimi had other ideas

he’d just look at you and his gaze would darken all of a sudden and with just a glance at him you already feel the wind being knocked out of you

it would be rly sudden, like dimitri’s just rly needy all of a sudden and he’s taking whatever you’ll give rly he has so much pent up stress and needs some form of release and he’s so so emotional and touchy and won’t stop kissing you with so much fervor and desperation

dimi is 1000% a lovemaker im sorry u cannot convince me otherwise. unless he is feral. if he is feral then understandable have a good day.

he’s all about pampering and kissing every inch of you and asks every five minutes is this okay? are you comfortable? does that hurt? are you sure? because he’s terrible with fragile things and if he ever hurt you he’d never forgive himself poor baby

part of you just wants to grab his face and say !!! im fine !!! you big idiot !! but you just pull him to your chest and nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe him in deeply, kissing his jaw gently before reassuring him i’m fine dimi, stop worrying

he’d calm down instantly and focus back on the task at hand, pleasuring the love of his life hehe

BODY WORSHIPPING non stop praises just kissing everywhere his lips come across you’d love it but hate it at the same time bc part of you just wants him in u already and the other half of u is just so so enamoured by him and feels so warm and loved and appreciated

he’s more of a giver than a receiver as well though for opposite reasons compared to felix, he worries about your comfort so much to the extent where it distracts him from his own pleasure, and it isn’t until he’s inside of you that he remembers and is like oh wow fuck and yea things dont usually last very long for him since he always neglects his own pleasure in favor of yours. he gets so focused on making u feel good because he loves you so much and he needs you to know that so yeah he doesn’t remember to even touch himself lmao

you’d probably come like twice before dimi even whips his schlong out

at the peak of his pleasure tho dimi gets kinda rough ngl. he’s a person whos very emotionally driven so when everything gets to be a bit too much he’s just slamming into you with so much force your skin stings, grip so tight on your hips there’s sure to be bruises in the morning but despite how rough he is his eyes are nothing but gentle and so so loving

probably says something like oh seiros when he’s about to come LMAOOO

dimi is also a king with aftercare but he’d probably knock out like a log afterwards and it’d be like the best sleep he’d get tbh all warm and satiated and just content

dimi sex god

#fe3h #claude x reader #fe3h fics #fe3h requests #fe3h imagines #claude von riegan #claude imagines #claude scenarios #fe3h scenarios #fire emblem three houses #dimitri x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri imagines #dimitri scenarios #felix fraldarius x reader #felix fraldarius #felix fraldarius scenarios

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uncomfortable-writers · 4 years

Text

Naive (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Character: Thomas Shelby

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,050

Warnings: Bit angst but not really, swearing, low-key jealous Tommy

A/N - Inspired by The Kooks - Naive <3

♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡

His feet thudded on the pavement below. The people of Birmingham made sure to stay out of his path and it wasn’t because of his reputation. Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man but when his face looked like thunder he could give even the devil the shivers. He walked with purpose towards the Garrison wanting nothing more than a drink to nurse the stress headache pounding behind his eyes.

Pushing on the doors harshly they swung open, releasing the stench of old beer and sweat. As he pulled off his peaked cap his cold eyes darted around the pub looking for you tucked away in the crowd. Unable to find you he began to move towards the private room returning greetings from the drunk revellers with a low grunt. He found the room to be unoccupied, not even by a single Shelby. Tommy took off his overcoat and neatly placed it over a chair. He took a moment to compose himself; he wanted to be in your presence, even though he wouldn’t openly tell you, you helped him to relax.

As Tom left the room he still observed the drunken rabble on his way to the bar. His usual order of whiskey was placed in front of him, taking the cup in his hand he was about to take a sip when a hand clapped onto his shoulder causing the brown liquid to spill out onto his hand. With a disgruntled expression, he turned to scold the culprit.

“Tommy!”, Arthur slurred with drunken glee, “How are ya Tommy?”. Arthur’s breath reeked of alcohol signalling to him that Arthur had been drinking for a while which most likely meant you had and the other Shelbys had too. Thomas didn’t think it was possible for his mood to worsen, “Fine”, he breathed out through his teeth. Whether the lie was so convincing or Arthur was too drunk, he couldn’t decide but his brother didn’t let on either way, “That’s what we like to hear Tommy!”. Pouring what was left of the drink into his mouth, Tommy swallowed quickly feeling it warm his throat, the action cause Arthur to drop his arm and instead lean on the bar for support. “Where’s (Y/N)?”, he asked Arthur. Arthur’s ginger brows pulled together before they relaxed, a small knowing smile faintly pulled at the corner of his lips irking Tommy to no end, “(Y/N)”, Arthur repeated letting your name hang in the air. “Yes, (Y/N)”, Tom said flatly, reaching into his jacket to find his cigarettes; the habit being one of his only stress reliefs.

Arthur pivoted to look at the crowd and gestured wildly, “She was over there last I saw her, talkin’ up a storm with some bloke”. Tommy struck up a match to light the cig taking his time to do so to calm down, he inhaled sharply on the stick and turned to face the crowd too. “Some bloke?”, he prompted his brother who only shrugged in response, “Better go find her Tom”. Thomas gave Arthur his signature stare before he did just that.

Wading into the crowd he was polite to the people who spoke to him, though he didn’t stop when they tried to carry on the conversation. He’d almost walked fully round the Garrison and he even would’ve missed you had he not heard your unique laugh drift through the air like a siren’s call. He turned on his heel, his blue eyes clocked you in a corner that was dimly lit, standing too close to a man he didn’t know. You were laughing about something he had said, the man had reached out and gently placed his hand on your arm.

It took less than a second for him to arrive near you.

“(Y/N)”, Tommy’s gravelly voice sharply interrupted your conversation, he spared you only a moments glance before he began to access your acquaintance, “Who’s your friend?”. The question sounded harmless to you but the man involuntarily straightened his posture, his hand returning to his side. “Tommy when did you get here? This is Sam”, your tone was happy, voice slurred. “Sam”, Thomas rolled the name off his tongue like it was poison, “Sam what?”.

The Peaky Blinder continued to stare Sam down, he didn’t even turn to look at you when he saw you grow serious out the corner of his eye. Even though he wasn’t a very tall or heavy-set man, Tommy was still able to intimidate even the biggest of men with just his very presence. “Behave we were just talking”, you sighed, Tommy could just hear the pout present on your face and when he finally ripped his eyes away from your friend, he was right. You were pouting up at him as if he were the only person in the room. “You were just talking”, Tommy puffed out smoke which hung in the air. “Yes Thomas, that’s how you make friends”, your irritation was becoming obvious.

Tommy raised his eyebrows mockingly. He hated it when you called him anything but Tommy. “How you make friends”, he took another long drag of his cigarette observing you, he knew he was playing with fire by purposely provoking you but he just couldn’t help himself. He watched the way your perfect features contorted nastily, “What’s so wrong with making friends?”, Thomas didn’t react, he deliberately took his time puffing on the cig knowing it would drive you mad. Just as he opened his mouth Sam interjected, “It’s been wonderful (Y/N), but I think I best be off”.

Thomas snapped his head towards the man, a slight scowl on his face, “Yeah I think you better”.

Sam abruptly left, you jabbed your finger in Tom’s chest, “Why are you always such a cock?”. You started to stamp away but he caught your arm, “Now (Y/N)--”, you ripped your arm out of his grip, “Oh don’t start”. You continued on your warpath over to the bar, ready to drink until you were happy again half expecting Thomas to follow and he would have, had he not been stopped by Aunt Polly who’d been watching the entire scene unfold. “When?”, she said ominously prompting Tom to sigh at her, “What?”. He didn’t have time for her long-winded riddles. “When are you going to tell her you love her?”.

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gamebunny-advance · 3 years

Text

Here I Go Thinking About Music Assh*le Again (Game Theory)

But with the added bonus that it also involves Hot Rock Mom.

I often think about what Kliff and Tati’s relationship actually was before NSR was formed.

They were close enough that Tatiana knows his name and can easily recognize him when he appears. We know Kliff uses nearly unrecognizable pictures online, so they must have met each other in person and their relationship could not have been strictly parasocial. However, we don't know the extent of Kliff's involvement with Tatiana before or after the Goolings disbanded. He said he “stood by her” after that, but what does that mean to him? The implication is that there was some downtime between the Goolings disbanding and the formation of NSR and this is the time he’s talking about, but it’s not clear how long this lasted or what actually happened between them in this time.

Given what Kliff does for B2J to help them accomplish their goals, I assume he would have tried to support Tatiana in the same way: gathering info, strategizing, and planning, but did he and Tatiana actually stick together long enough for him to do something for her, or did she immediately reject him?

Despite all his whining, he never makes a claim about feeling “used,” and his concerns are more about feeling “abandoned.” It might have been that he insisted on helping her since he wanted to be supportive, but since his ideal solution depended on rock, she never took him up on it. However, the problem with that theory is that Kliff explicitly describes those times as having “hardships.” Assuming that what he says is true, and he isn’t exaggerating, then if he was immediately rejected, then they wouldn’t have had time to struggle together.

With that in mind, then it’s more likely that they did actually work together towards something, and it just didn’t work out. It could have been that he was just harassing her the entire time until she finally picked up EDM and that was “the last straw” of sorts, but it’s equally likely that they both earnestly tried to look for a solution to help Vinyl City, but ended up disagreeing and then going their separate ways.

I think it’s notable that they seem to be used to ribbing into each other, as neither of them responds particularly negatively to each other’s insults, which implies both a certain level of familiarity between them. In comparison, similar exchanges between Tatiana and Mayday almost always immediately devolve into bickering, whereas Tatiana and Kliff’s exchange stays relatively collected in spite of the antagonism between them.

Of course, Mayday and Kliff’s differing reactions to Tatiana’s rants could simply be due to the difference in personalities between them. Tatiana talks to them roughly the same way, but they react very differently: Mayday doubles down on her stance and becomes combative, while Kliff is unfazed and just transitions topics up until Tatiana’s final rebuttal. But given how poorly Kliff reacts to said rebuttal, I think it’s less that Kliff has a calm personality and more that he just wasn’t taking the conversation seriously up to this point. It’s at that point that Kliff drops his calm demeanor and lashes out in anger, so he’s just as capable of emotional outbursts as Mayday. Furthermore, the way he reacts to this seems kinda surprised, like he honestly didn’t think she actually hated him. He does return to his more calm persona after he’s established himself as a threat, having felt like he’d won, but he goes back to lashing out when B2J turn on him too. My point is that Kliff explicitly doesn’t take rejection well, so if he was rejected in the past, then I don’t think he would have even tried to convince Tatiana that she’d hurt him and this just would have been a total revenge plot.

Actually, I think considering that he did not immediately try to blow up the tower and instead tried to reason with Tatiana first means that he honestly had some hope that they would be able to fix their relationship. If he had that kind of hope, then they must have actually gotten along at some point.

Up to now, I haven’t really entertained the idea that Kliff had been delusional about their relationship. He is established early on as being an untrustworthy character, but I think there are very few instances where he outright “lies.” He obviously put more weight into their relationship than Tatiana did, and it’s more than possible that he had always been the only one to see them as being close, but I don’t give too much into this reading because Tatiana never establishes this as being the case. Tatiana, while abrasive, is still framed as being truthful, and she consistently calls out both the faults of Mayday and herself to make the conflict of the story clear. If Kliff being delusional was supposed to factor into our reading of the conflict, then she likely would have said so.

In response to Kliff’s confrontation, Tatiana says, “I don’t give a damn about you. I owe you nothing.” which doesn’t imply that anything Kliff has said up to this point has been false.

If she thought that this was entirely Kliff’s fault, then she would have just said so, because that’s what she does with Mayday: She tells Mayday, “I didn’t ask for your admiration,” and “don’t have heroes” in response to Mayday claiming to have started the revolution in Kul Fyra’s name. Those are feelings that Tatiana explicitly believes are not her responsibility, and the narrative does not refute this stance. Kliff’s reaction could easily fall into either one of those categories. Again, this can be reaffirmed by her response of, “I owe you nothing,” but this is really just her saying that Kliff is responsible for his own feelings, not that she didn’t hurt him. In fact, she purposefully goes out of her way to hurt him by opening with, “I don’t give a damn about you.”

But she isn’t hypocritical about it: Tatiana does take responsibility for what she believes are her faults. During the same conversation with Mayday, Tatiana does still wrongfully blame rock as the root of the conflict, believing rock to be the cause of the “chaos”, but she frames her own “softness” as the reason she failed as a leader.

Whoever Tatiana was as Kul Fyra is not who she is now. She implies that when she was with the Goolings, her attitude was a lot more easy-going and open with her bandmates, and this might have extended to their fans too. Not that it’s an especially “friendly” thing for an artist to do, but we know she was at least a little accommodating towards her fans because you can find a signed picture of the Goolings in Auntie’s restaurant. It’s very probable that she did let Kliff get closer than she was capable of reciprocating. This may have given him the wrong impression of their relationship, so when she dropped him when she committed herself to upholding “order” and managing EDM artists, it led to him being how he is now.

It’s worth noting that after Kliff starts being sincere, he states pretty plainly that his actions are not due to the music itself, but due to how Tatiana treated him, so their conflict is not strictly about genre supremacy like it was for Mayday. Kliff frames Tatiana “abandoning rock” as the catalyst of the perceived betrayal, but it quickly breaks down and becomes clear that he was upset that she had abandoned him. In his own words, he describes being “ditched” as feeling like “complete and utter hopelessness,” and that’s a feeling you only really get from a person if they were important to you. If that’s honestly how he felt, then their separation might have been very abrupt. They clearly left on bad terms either way, but whatever state they left in obviously left a lot of things unsaid between them. It just finally came out during the tower confrontation and led to them both lashing out at each other.

#nsr #no straight roads #kliff #tatiana #long post #normally i'd put a little more before the readmore #but i'm main tagging this #and i know a lot of folks there just don't care #so i'm not gonna burden the strangers with that #i hope this doesn't come off as me saying that this is tatiana's fault #they're both at fault for all of this because they couldn't sit down and talk about their issues #when they had the chance #and decided to just bottle it in until they became balls of seething rage #but make no mistake #i love them both dearly #my stupid angry grandparents <3

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nayarablueglasses · 3 years

Text

requested for: no

a/n: idk i wrote this for my HLATS so it’s weird. hope you enjoy! @thedevilsdaywear and you said i wasn’t organized smh also serious apologies for not actually making my promised content in ages. feel free to send in asks! i can almost promise you that as long as it fits my requirements, i’ll be sure to write it! i never have asks, so it means a lot when i get one.

(divider credits to @firefly-graphics)

summary: you, iwaizumi, and oikawa are in the student council and join in on a meeting.

warning/genre: man idek, there’s mentions of oikawa not being interested in girls, you’re in a poly relationship w/ iwaizumi+oikawa, iwaizumi calls oikawa “prettyboy,” I JUST REALIZED I MADE TAKEDA THE SCHOOL COMMITTEE CLUB COUNCILLOR SO UH I GUESS I ACCIDENTALLY MADE HIM HAVE CONFIDENCE AND A SECOND JOB, THAT’S IT???

reader pronouns: not mentioned/gender neutral

“Making the schoolyard more interesting? Prettykawa, what are you talking about?” Hajime shook his head at Tooru, who had just joined me and Hajime in waiting for the school council’s club councilor- Takeda Ittetsu- to come unlock the clubroom doors.

“No, come to think of it, didn’t Takeda-sensei mention something about having a new project to ‘improve the school’ last meeting, didn’t he?” I rubbed my head, trying to recall the exact words he’d used. “I think he said…”

Takeda’s voice came from behind us “‘We might try a new beneficial school activity tomorrow!’” Turning, we could see Takeda standing with his hands on his hips, smile on his face. “Hope you weren’t waiting long!” Walking past us after greeting us cheerfully to unlock the door. By now, the rest of the school council had amassed around us, and we filed into the council room after the rest had passed.

Tooru held a cocky look on his face- until Hajime smacked him on the back of his head. “Just because you were right about that doesn’t mean you should suddenly have a look like that on your face!”

“Mean Iwa-chan!” Tooru whined. Still, he sat down to my left, musing up my hair and threw a playful glare at Hajime, who sat to his left. Irritatedly, I sent him a harsh look and tried to return my hair to it’s (admittedly already messy) original state, muttering profanities under my breath. My attention returned to Takeda, however, when he stood up from his seat and clapped his hands.

“I have a proposal for you all!” He announced to the room.

Tooru scoffed, leaning down to my ear to whisper, “If he was planning on getting back up this whole time, why’d he sit down? Besides, he’s the club councillor, if he says something then it goes. Doesn’t he know that?”

I whispered back, “Shut up! You know he’s new at this. And anyways, you should appreciate your elders and teachers who also respect your opinions.” Hajime caught my eyes, ears practically picking up when he realized we were gossiping.

In classic Hajime style, he hit us both on the back of our heads. “Pay attention!” Ow. I’d be sure to get Tooru and Hajime back for that later.

Attention once directed back to Takeda, we realized the room was staring at us. Tooru sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, already making the girls in the class start swooning. I rolled my eyes. Sure, he put on a prettyboy popular persona, but when was his fanclub going to realize he wasn’t into girls like that?

“Well, what do you two think?” Takeda asked me and Tooru, confident in thinking we hadn’t heard him. Hajime snickered beside me.

“Uh... cleaning up the schoolyard sounds fun, but what if we... added stuff? To make it more interesting?” I tried answering with what Tooru had mentioned earlier- to which Tooru looked at me offended.

Takeda smiled. “Excellent idea! Why don’t we brainstorm what we could do to make the schoolyards more interesting?”

Immediately, the entire clubroom was echoing with noise, everybody shouting out ideas. Tooru flinched at the noise, but otherwise maintained his cool. He did, though, shoot me a look that very clearly said “I”m going to kill you for dragging me into this club.” I just responded with a nonchalant shoulder shrug and pointed at Hajime, to say, “Don’t blame me! Blame your boyfriend.” which would be hilarious when I explained what I meant to Tooru later, because the three of us were dating.

Pretty quickly, Takeda had calmed down the council members and brought out the “talking stick,” for us all to make suggestions with. Luckily, he gave it to Hajime first. Hajime was always the one with the good ideas. “What about a fountain?” Except that one.

“You dumbass! How would we get the money for a fountain!” Tooru teased.

Hajime threw the stick at his head. “If your ideas are any better, then YOU have the talking stick!” Which was, of course, what Tooru had wanted all along. Hajime and his hot head...

Tooru weaved the stick in and out of his fingers, pretending to muse over his options. Then, he said, “I’ve got it! How about a snack stand! And we’ll sell milkbread! Hmm, what do you think about that?” He rested the stick against his lips, smiling. The others in the club looked uncertain.

I snatched the stick out of his hands. “And you called Hajime-kun a dumbass? Where are we going to get the money for milkbread, idiot? It’ll go bad before we even sell it! Don’t we already sell milkbread in the snack machine?”

He stuck his tongue out at me. “Alright, well, what’s your bright idea consist of, huh?”

“Secrets! Secrets! You don’t get to know my idea!” I cried, making Hajime laugh.

“He’s got you there, Prettykawa. You don’t get to know his idea if he doesn’t tell you.” Laughing as he pat Tooru’s back. Tooru looked put out, but we’d been going on and hogging the talking stick for so long that the bell rang almost immediately after that.

We jumped out of our seats, Tooru dragging me and Hajime along. “Come on, let’s go get milkbread from the vending machine!”

“Dumbass! Slow down!”

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

i started rewatching pt3 like some kinda sap and fell in love all over again 😔 may i please have some headcanons on the crusaders with a friendly stand user whos just a complete metalhead. Mohawk, studded clothes, looks like a hardass and then wildly enough has a healing stand? Im a sucker for the "more than meets the eye" or "actually a softie" kind of trope lol

Jotaro wouldn’t admit it, but he’s intimidated a little by the way you look. He’s used to looking like the toughest person in a group, and perhaps more of him than he’d like to admit is wrapped up in the idea of a delinquent persona that he can hide behind. He’s wary of you at first; when your healing stand makes itself known, though, and he sees how your face seems to soften and how everything else melts away, he relaxes. He won’t tease you for being soft, though you may think he would; he knows what it’s like to be more than meets the eye. You might find that he sticks surprisingly close to you, his presence a quiet reminder that he appreciates you. Don’t go getting emotional about it, though - you’ll embarrass him!

Joseph is delighted by your hair and clothes. He tries to get you to let him try them on. He’s full-on at the best of times, and with a grandson like Jotaro, he’s definitely not put off by an aesthetic that may be a little bit more unusual than what he’s used to. When he finds out about your healing stand, he goes very quiet for a few days - and you notice, afterwards, that he always makes a move to keep you covered in group fights. This is a man who has already experienced the loss of someone he cares about once; if your power is kind enough to stop that happening again, Joseph is going to make damn sure that you’re safe.

Kakyoin stays away from you, politely, until he gets the measure of you. He’s the kind of person who likes to know what he’s going into; he’s polite and calm on the surface whilst he figures you out. The minute that he sees you smile or laugh, or call out your stand to assist with an injury, he’ll make his move. He’s got a soft spot for people who are soft and calming, and you’re no different, despite how you may choose to dress. He may needle at you trying to figure out if there’s a sharper side beneath the softness, though - if youflash your eyes at him and joke back at him like Polnareff can, so much the better.

Avdol can probably see that the clothes and hair and the demeanour aren’t the real you. He won’t push you into being soft and gentle around other people - he probably sees that you’re wearing the clothes and aesthetic for a reason, and doesn’t want to pry - but when it becomes clear that it’s just an aesthetic and you are soft and not afraid to show it, he will treat you the same as he treats anyone else - and sometimes that means a sly smile and a barb that isn’t a barb until you really stop and think about it.

Polnareff will touch your hair. He’ll want to discuss styling tips with you; he probably barely notices the studded clothes and the other parts of you, but he recognises a fellow connoisseur of gravity-defying hair. Once he finds out you’re soft inside, he will rush to protect you; though he’s usually expected to only do his knight-in-shining-armour shtick for children or pretty girls, it actually bleeds through every aspect of his life. He wants to protect people he cares about, and you are now included in that number.

#jojo headcanons #jjba #jotaro kujo #jean pierre polnareff #muhammad avdol #joseph joestar #noriaki kakyoin #Anonymous

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magma-cjay · 3 years

Text

I made some La Squadra headcanons... hope you enjoy :^)

Risotto Nero

Age: 28

Ethnicity: Sicilian/Egyptian (born in Sicily)

Sexuality: Gay (more closeted/probably doesn't realise)

General headcanons:

- He has Autism, fidgets with smaller objects he keeps in his pockets like pens or keys to help calm him down. When fidgeting with a pen on his desk he can take it apart and put it back together again.

- Social interaction? How do you do that? (Is mostly more talkative around the people he's close to, aka his team. Though usually performs better when it's only atleast 3 or less of them in the same room with him).

- Him and Formaggio are the closest in the group. BFF's! They'd go out and try and find some cats in the alley ways. Ghiaccio is his second closest next to Melone

- He likes animals, alot. Will protect or rescue one if he sees them around or on a mission

- The father figure for La Squadra, and if he sees one of his members in distress he'll do anything he can to help calm them down/soothe them.

- Doesn't get drunk. Period. I think we know why.

- Enjoys the sun, is able to stand in it longer than Illuso or Ghiaccio due to him more able to tan than get sunburnt.

- When he isn't showing off his torso, he prefers warm snuggly jumpers or hoodies. Makes him feel safe and has the same affect as receiving a hug for him.

- Has a few plushies, small bean filled cats and probably a moderately huggable sized bear. Holds it at night while he sleeps

- He'd eat spicy stuff without a blink of an eye. His mama used to make him alot of Mediterranean/Eastern foods like Indian and Egyptian. So he has a hefty tolerance to spice

- Will bite into a lemon. With 0 hesitation. And just eat it as if it were a regular not acidy fruit.

- Doesn't cry much, but when he does he's an ugly crier. Snot and tears running down that man's face, probably clenches his fist or punches something to. Depends on the situation of course.

- Enjoys the bitter taste of Dark chocolate, will eat a whole block of the kitchen made stuff with ease.

- Can lift everyone but Pesci and Illuso as if they were as light as a feather. Pesci and Illuso are a tad more heavier.

- His linguistic skills outside of Sicilian and mainland Italian suck. He's got horrendous English compared to the rest of the group. Relies on Ghiaccio to translate whatever they are saying.

Ghiaccio

Age: 20

Ethnicity: Venezian

Sexuality: Gay/Ace

General headcanons:

- Has ADHD. No doubt.

- Sees Risotto as a father figure, looks up to him for guidance and listens to him the most.

- Got his curly blue hair from his stand awakening! It was a slow process. Risotto checks on it every so often because the more blue and curly it gets, the more powerful his stand becomes.

- Other than Risotto, the closest member in his squad is Melone! They get along the best in the group. They have similar intellect and both like to learn about eachothers passions! (Without it getting sexual of course)

- His insults? No rapper could ever compare to the zany things this gremlin comes up with! He'll slaughter you with his words and his stand!

- Can speak multiple languages! The best at English other than Melone, Formaggio and Pesci in the group! Hates it when people pronounce things wrong (wow, that was obvious) and also hates slang. It gets on his gears when Formaggio uses it.

- Loves cats! They calm him down! He doesn't want to hurt the little critters! Unfortunetly too shy to go out and actively find them, but will promptly beat the ever loving fuck out of you if you hurt a cat in his vision.

- Doesn't let anyone but Melone, Pesci and Risotto touch his curls. You will be frozen if you aren't them.

- Enjoys crunching on Ice cubes, the sound is satisfying and he finds the taste nice.

- Hates asparagus and avoids it like the plague, same with Coriander. It tastes like soap! Ew!

- Has warm showers to balance out his stand that makes him colder than the average person. Won't turn it up too high otherwise he burns.

- Burns easy in the sun, wears alot of sunscreen.

- The lightest member of La Squadra after Melone! Will scream if you pick him up.

- He has muscular thighs and has a light 4 pack! Skating does alot for you!

Melone

Age: 26

Ethnicity: Naples

Sexuality: Pansexual

General headcanons:

- Has sleep paralysis.

- Got a degree in human genetics & Biology!

- Is a maternal figure to his Juniors and would definetly be capable of caring for a baby.

- Will drape himself over Risotto, the man doesn't care how. As long as he isn't doing any weird shit. And Melone will gladly go with those terms.

- Calls Risotto "Rizzy babe/baby" and it drives Ghiaccio and Prosciutto into the wall. Be professional damnit Mel!

- Him and Prosciutto are fairly close, they get along well with only a few minor differences in views. He and Illuso have a stronger bond however.

- Isn't as sexually driven as he seems. Tells Ghiaccio alot of 'apparently' devious things he's done but in all honesty? He isn't that bad. The only thing that's relatively "disgusting" is him being into legs and feet. Other than that? He just knows too much and puts on a persona to see how creeped out other people get.

- Knows everyone's star signs, blood types, DNA and allergies! Puts all the information down on BabyFace.

- BabyFace is basically his own personal laptop, he can play games and hack into servers when he pleases!

- Created most of La Squadra's furniture... with BabyFace. Risotto, Ghiaccio and Illuso are the only three that know that he created it with BabyFace. Ris and Mel are the only ones who knows what people are what furniture. Melone occasionally says hi to them when the others aren't around.

- Melone also has a weird amount of knowledge on dogs. He'll tell you almost everything about a breeds behaviours and traits, to even what is best to give them from toys to food!

- Likes eating Formaggios bags of chips when he isn't looking. He just finds those fatty crispy potatoes in a bag so utterly irresistible!

Prosciutto

Age: 35

Ethnicity: Milan

Sexuality: Bisexual

General headcanons;

- Trans! F-M

- Him and his mother look very similar to eachother. Even more when he was pre transition!

- Smokes cigars.

- Takes like 20 minutes doing up his hair.

- Buys fine wine, won't take the cheap shit.

- He spends daddy's money. But the team doesn't have to know that.

- Enjoys sitting in the sun with a nice glass of wine with olives, hates it when he's disturbed.

- Has some toxic masculinity, doesn't want to look 'weak' infront of the team, or at all.

- Nutures Pesci, the two are very very close. Not brothers, but close. You will not enjoy the wrath of Prosciutto if Pesci is hurt.

- Does the face rubbing with everyone. Wants to make sure everyone can succeed at their task!

- Him and Illuso are, close? They tease eachother in a friendly way, love finding ways to make the other flustered or embarresed. It's a very fun game to them.

- Is probably the 2nd best at using a gun. No one can top the sniper that is Gelato however. But he is learning from him.

- Do not. Mess with his suits. The minute he finds out someone has wrinkled or spilled his suits you will be turned into an old hag. Most of the team knows this. But there's still the oddballs who don't learn...

- Reacts like a normal person to unusual bizarre situations. Who put this inflatable pool into the base? GET IT OUT! STOP SWIMMING IN IT!

- Doesn't like cats, they get hair all over his clothes and vomits up cat treats on his bed. But Illuso and Melone can tell that he himself acts somewhat similar to a cat. Just exclude the puking.

Pesci

Age: 20

Ethnicity: Sardegna

Sexuality: Straight

General Headcanons;

- Him, Gelato and Sorbet? Good friends. BFF's even.

- Is shy, doesn't do well in social situations. But you can tell alot more easier than you could with Risotto

- Enjoys fishing in the coastal waters. Will occasionally go out with Formaggio and Illuso to fish with them.

- The others have tried to show him new drinks, but he'll always stick to milk. It's what his momma gave him when he was younger, a habit he has yet to break.

- His momma was very over protective, unfortunetly causing him to be very anxious and paranoid about many things. It's a surprise he even managed to join the Mafia.

- Likes dogs! Him and Mel can talk about dogs for hours! Even visit some at shelters. Only wishing they could adopt only to remember they're professions..

- Does pedicures with Sorbet and Gelato every weekend. He makes sure to keep his nails in good condition for them! And they do the same! Sometimes they do makeovers with eachother, he likes looking fabulous on the next mission!

- Likes kids but is terrified to go up to them. But whenever it's him and Risotto, he has a little more confidence. The two wouldn't mind ever giving the homeless children some food or a piggy back ride.

- Is allergic to walnuts. He found that out from a pie Melone made him. Thankfully he came out okay thanks to BabyFace.

- He does indeed hide behind the couch whenever they watch a horror movie. Thankfully Risotto is there with him whenever they do watch them, the man apparently doesn't really enjoy them either. He isn't scared, but he just prefers other genres.

- Is only good at some English due to all the tourists! He felt like he had to learn some so he'd be able to talk to them or help them out with directions.

Illuso

Age: 26

Ethnicity: Spainish

Sexuality: Bisexual

General Headcanons;

- Pillow princess!

- Don't disturb him when he's in the tub, just don't.

- He can sing! He's very loud! But usually sings when no one Is home. Prosciutto and Melone are the only two that have heard his singing voice.

- Teases members of the team constantly, he's just alot meaner with Formaggio.

- Made his outfit! Formaggio and Sorbet absolutely hate it! But he doesn't care about the haters

- He has full control of his pigtails, no one knows how he is able to make them magically float. But that makes it even more fun! They usually start to squirm when he's excited, flustered or scared.

- Is always in his mirrors. Likes the quiet inside, but sometimes he'll get lonely and pop out or ask some of the others to join him inside.

- He's relatively good at cooking, mainly Spanish cuisine. But is learning with Melone how to make baked goods!

- Him and Mel watch TV together, they love making fun of the characters and getting deeply invested into the plot. They binge alot.

- Isn't a snacker, he will only eat snacks if he's watching TV or if he's in the tub. Those are usually grapes.

- He doesn't hate Formaggio. They are quite close! Just thinks some of the things he does and says are absolutely stupid.

- Knows almost everything history wise with his teammates. But still can't find much on Risotto.. one day he will... one day... only knows some of his info from Melones BabyFace. But that's not enough!

- Invades his teammates privacy, he'll pop through the mirrors in they're rooms. No he doesn't care (atleast most of the time)

Formaggio

Age: 27

Ethnicity: Boston

Sexuality: Bicurious

General Headcanons;

- He has a pet name for everyone, most of them don't mind. Gelato and Ghiaccio absolutely hate theirs however.

- Of course as we know in canon, he's the brother of the group. Tries to cheer them up after a particularly glum mission, or if they are just having a bad day.

- Loves cats. Ain't good at taking care of them. Risotto gets annoyed whenever he leaves cats in containers.

- He snacks, alot. Like alot alot. Thankfully he exercises with Sorbet so he maintains his frame.

- Loves pissing off Illuso with the way he eats Spanish food. A disgrace for eating Doritos with Guacamole! But man it's fun to see his face go red! And it tastes good.

- Has the strangest ideas for how to defeat targets. Goes into Risotto's office constantly and babbles on about ideas. Most of the time they are surprisingly accepted. And they work!

- Happily drinks cheap booze, it disgusts Prosciutto. But he doesn't care. Unfortunetly gets drunk after 5 bottles. Doesn't drink infront of Risotto though (atleast not on purpose).

- He loves the beach! Hot babes (and bros?) walking around, it's a paradise for this cheese man! Has to be taken away from the beach by force when they have to go home though.

- Usually wears very loose clothing. He gets too hot easy! Gotta wear something he can breathe in.

- Likes orange chocolate, some of the others judge him for it. But him and Sorbet can snack on that stuff for hours.

- Likes listening to the game on the radio in Ghiaccios car since Illuso and Melone take up the tv too often.

- Is from Boston, so of course he knows English. Sometimes swears in it, but he mainly speaks in Italian now. Knows some Sicilian thanks to Risotto!

#jjba #jjba part 5 #la squadra #headcanons #long #i think about them alot

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