If you want a reader with specific traits like mental illness, you'll probably have to share resources that are accurate or at least point me in the right direction so I can write things well
Critique always welcome.
Especially freaky or problematic things are fine, but I may not write things that involve bodily fluids cause I don't personally fw them very much. If I'm too uncomfy writing some things I'll probably ignore it but there's not a lot I don't fw
Uhmm if you want something other than alien stuff, lemme know and I'll at least try to.
I'm not super into fluff so probably not gonna respond write a lot of it,,, still send it in and I'll probably get to it eventually just maybe not as soon as other requests unless I like the idea.
Specific characters are fine too, but I will need a source so I can actually write the characters right, just in case I've never heard of wherever they're from. No kpop or real ppl please ^^;
For some reason I. Didnt understand or know what a crash is but realizing yeah. That is exactly what's happening to me. Same thing with splitting. I've gotta die
dennis realizing you have a thing for his hands so he brings some gloves home to give you a mock oral examination…
you’re sat down on the bed, while he stands above you. scrubs still on and eyes set on you. his gaze is intense but filled with adoration, admiration.
“are you ready?”
“yes—yeah.” you breathe.
he smiles, starting of by running his finger tips over the plush of your lips. it tingles from his touch and the anticipation. his eyes tracking the movements of his fingers. then they move to the seam of your mouth. pointer finger tugging down your bottom lip and letting it bounce back into place.
“okay, open up for me.” he always had the sweetest cadence.
his voice is soft but firm. the command making you feel a little misty in the head.
so you do as he says. parting your lips to allow him into your mouth.
sliding his synthetic rubber covered fingers over your tongue, the texture of the nitrile rough against you. its all slick with the lubrication of your spit.
were you drooling already?
he presses down a little harder when your jaw ticks, almost closing. in anticipation of your saliva dripping out.
“ah, don’t do that. you need to keep your mouth open nice and wide okay?”
“sorwy..” comes your muffled apology. the fingers in your mouth making your speech garbled.
he smiles down at you gently, “it’s alright, no harm done. mind your teeth.”
you hum, “mhm.”
his middle and ring finger explore your mouth with a soft sort of precision. while the pointer and pinky rest on your cheeks. its very slow, the way he moves. gently coaxing your mouth into producing more saliva so he can watch it trail up his digits and down your chin.
“don’t worry about the mess…” he reassures.
feeling the supple but bumpy texture of your inner cheeks. it was relaxing, him taking his sweet time to look you over.
his fingers smooth over your teeth then down to your gums, sliding between the space of your cheeks over them. feeling the sides of your molars before touching at the roof of your mouth. it was oddly ticklish. his fingers were so warm.
the taste of the gloves was indescribable. something nostalgic and artificial.
“now, say ‘ah’ and stick out your tongue for me please, far as you can.”
so you do. sticking the muscle out, feeling spit trail down it until it beads at the tip and dripping down into your lap.
“perfect, just like that…beautiful.”
then he begins to slide those two fingers up and down the expanse of your tongue. eyes meeting yours as he moves. going all the way back until you gag just slightly before pulling away.
he never looks away, adjusting his weight for a moment. he takes in a breath and you notice the tips of his ears reddening.
“your mouth looks..” he swallows rather harshly and your eyes catch on the way his throat bobs. then his own tongue peeks out to lick over his lip. “pr—healthy.” he corrects. “very healthy..”
your eyes move down further taking in the sight of the more than obvious tent beneath his scrub pants. paired with a small patch of something wet against his crotch.
he’s breathing hard you notice. not very professional of him.
“eyes up here, m’not finished.” he heaves.
and right before your gaze moved back up you catch sight of his gloved hands moving to untie the neat bow at his waist.
Roommate! tentacle monster who has lived with you for years. Or. Well, he was here first when you signed your lease so you can't really kick him out.
Also you are a bit scared to irritate him cause those tentacles look strong and you could only imagine what they could do. (In more ways than one) But that's beside the point.
He,,,, they? You aren't quite sure what his pronouns are, he never corrects you and when you try to ask he always says smth about how his species doesn't have pronouns so you can use whatever males tend to use. At least you know he's a guy you guess,,, not that it even matters.
He's fairly helpful and actually insists on doing most of the chores cause he likes the house to be arranged and set up in a certain way. He puts particular care in how things are put in their spots. It's interesting. You've never seen his actual body just his limbs. He can't really see the house, but he's got the place completely memorized.
When you get home exhausted and annoyed from work he'll usually make dinner for the two of you. And more often than not you'll end up crashing on the couch before you even get a chance to make it to your bed.
When that happens you always wake up in different clothes, and in your own bed. you choose not to question it and just be thankful.
Wholesome!König who is completely infatuated with you, but is too shy to ask you out.
You work at a coffee shop near base that he frequents in the mornings. He so rarely encounters civilian women that even seeing you in your sexless uniform, your hat and apron with funky little buttons pinned along the straps, stirs butterflies in his stomach for the first time in years. His favorite part of your appearance is the stunning smile you wear when speaking with customers.
Not him, of course. He downloaded the app so he could order ahead and just pick up - that way, he didn't have to talk to anybody. Online ordering is how he takes care of most of his business. Sometimes, you catch his eye when he goes to the pickup counter and give him a little nod or wave of acknowledgement that send him into temporary cardiac arrest. He's relieved when he can get back to his car and read your little sharpie messages in peace.
In the app he'd put himself in as Col - a throwback to his rank the Austrian Army before he'd opted for the mercenary life. It felt tacky to use his callsign outside work and he was certainly not going to use his real name. So in gorgeous cursive you would write, "Col," and beneath it, various levels of silly, unhinged nonsense:
"For the motherland!"
"Prove your bullies wrong"
"It's only illegal if you get caught"
"Don't look behind you"
So liebenswert. You're quirky and cute and every now and then you wear these glasses (he can't tell if they're prescription or blue-light) that just make him melt. He's always had a thing for girls in glasses. Everything about you is too good for him.
He flirts with the idea of finally getting in line and asking you for dark roast face-to-face. Maybe you'd like his (stupid) accent. Maybe you would comment on his (inconvenient) height or flash him one of those (undeserved) smiles.
Late one night, past the hour when good ideas happen, he decides on an alternative. He orders a bouquet of flowers and writes nothing more than your name on the card. Many of your pins are purple, so he picks one with lavender. Hopefully it'll make you smile - maybe even make your cheeks heat with a blush. He won't be there to see it, but knowing that he's brightened your day the way you brighten his is enough.
What he's definitely not expecting to see is a sprig of lavender tucked behind your ear along with your cap. His eyes go so wide he thinks he'll give himself away. He somehow manages to grab his order and escape before you make eye contact.
You seem to like his gift, even if you don't know it's from him. Maybe he should send some more.
Next week it's chocolates. Then it's a teddy bear. The week after, he tries something a little outside the box. Since lots of your pins have various activist messages on them about the environment or women's rights, he pays to have some trees planted in your name and has the certificate delivered to the coffee shop. He sees it framed on the wall not long after.
König is perfectly happy with this whole arrangement. He gets to make you smile and maybe he's even sparked a little crush, without any of the anxiety the comes from a social interaction. It's one-sided and undeniably cowardly, sure, but he allows himself to fantasize that it might grow into something more. And fantasy is safe. It cannot disappoint.
But when he visits your place of business the following Monday, his heart skins into his stomach.
Strung around your neck is a paper that says, "Are you my secret admirer? Come talk to me!!" in purple sharpie.
His immediate instinct is to flee. A conversation with you cannot possibly end well, and the very notion of seeing the sparkle in your eyes dim as he confesses is enough to make him forgo his breakfast drink.
But this is fucking ridiculous! He's KorTac's top heavy. He has a decorated military career with a confirmed kill count that's had him scouted by every PMC on the continent.
Ich kann mit einem süßen Mädchen reden, he tells himself resolutely. He snatches his order and stands in line.
When he reaches you, the look of shock on your face feels like a knife to the gut. But you quickly say, "Col! Oh my gosh, did I get something wrong with your order this morning?"
"No. It's perfect."
You light up like a Christmas tree, and oh shit, he has it bad.
"I'm glad. Is there anything else I can get you?"
Taking a deep breath, he carefully says, "I just wanted to talk to you before I left."
You look extremely puzzled as he begins to back away, so he gives a subtle nod towards your chest. Come talk to me. You follow his eyes and seem to understand his meaning - but he's already halfway out the door.
He's thrilled and terrified and he's absolutely going to vomit up this coffee if he drinks it, so he leaves it on his desk with your "Fight the power" message facing him all day. Ball's in your court, now. If you like what you see, you'll find some way to reciprocate - and if not, you can go on ignoring him and König won't push. He's just proud of himself for making a move.
When he goes in for coffee the next morning, your phone number is written in big bubble letters on his cup surrounded by purple hearts.
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Thanks for reading! I have longfics for every CoD 141 boy + Konig on my masterlist, if you're interested 😅
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
