#god i swear he makes my skin crawl

[phillycheesesteakcore]

Tucker you slimeball I swear to god when I get my hands on you you'll fucking wish you ended up like that robot you sent

[lokisgoodgirl]

Delicate [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: As Loki recovers from injury - he needs the sweetest balm to heal him: you (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Fluff. Avenger! Loki x Female Reader. Description of injury (no blood) In my feelings.

Your fingers trail down the centre of Loki’s sternum: tender, purple splotches soaked into his skin like dye. They've barely faded in the month that’s passed. His trademark ivory skin is like a storm cloud and, if you watch for long enough, you’d swear it ripples. He holds his breath, face set in stoicism, lips pressed together in a thin white line.

He forces a pained smile against his cheeks. “Good as new,” he lies.

“Bullshit,” you reply.

Loki releases the breath, head falling back against the pillows.

“I hate this,” he mutters. A month ago, almost to the day, his torso was nearly decimated when he jumped on a huge explosive meant to kill the entire team.

Not just the team, you remember. The city.

He’s lucky, they say. But it’s more than that. His magic was strong — it was strong enough — but only just. There isn’t an inch of him that hasn’t been healing these past weeks: no inch un-hurt.

Well, that’s not true…there was an inch that escaped unscathed. Nine, actually.

His powers re-generate the damage with every hour that goes by — but Loki’s never been one for patience. “I feel useless,” he snaps. “What good am I to you like this?” You stroke hair back from his face, and his blue eyes slide to meet yours. “You deserve better, darling,” he says seriously. “You have needs — I insist you take your pleasure elsewhere. Lang, Barton, Rogers, even..."

His gaze drops, and he looks up under a fringe of ebony lashes. "But someone inferior to me, that is all I ask.”

You almost shove his shoulder in reprimand before stopping yourself. He sighs again. “We can’t go on like this: you fellating me with dutiful care, and me unable to reciprocate.”

He glances at you with such weighty desolation that you almost burst out laughing as he says, “I feel like my brother — it’s terrible.”

And that does it. Your vision blurs as you pick up a pillow and bury your face in it: cackling. “What?!” he sniffs, affronted. “I have been incapacitated of my greatest boon.”

You surface from the pillow, tears of laughter smeared down your cheeks. “Greatest boon?!?” He gestures to the hard-on pitching the covers with a wilting sigh.

You trail a finger down his bicep on the side nearest you: the side that’s almost healed, but you don’t think he’s noticed. His skin is pure, pale velvet from his shoulder to his hipbone like a tan-mark.

“It doesn’t look incapacitated to me,” you say, eyeing his crotch, knowing what will happen. But you can’t resist. There’s something undeniably erotic about having him like this: needy, frustrated, a little insecure. A short puff erupts from his nostrils. “You can’t go on top: too painful. I can’t go on top: too painful. On my knees? Reverse —?” You place a gentle kiss on the side of his mouth. “I love you, Loki,” you whisper, feeling the skin shiver beneath your touch. “I don’t want anyone else- sex or no sex. I’d wait forever if it meant you healed, but…I think I know something that might work.” Loki’s face immediately tilts to you and his features flinch with the sudden movement. “But!” you say, pressing a finger to his lips. “You need to do exactly as I say, and if it hurts…we stop. Agreed?” With your finger pressed to his mouth, Loki rolls his eyes, and you smile. “Good.”

A slow, twitching, hope crawls up Loki’s expression as you move your hand and slide down the bedsheets. You lie on your back, lifting your hips and shuffling the shorts down. Loki says nothing, but his erection strains against the covers and his eyes dart from your eyes to your hips as the panties make a slow descent down your thighs. “Gods, I feel like a virgin again,” he murmurs, and his fingernails scrape against the bedsheets. He can’t quite make a fist — not yet — but if he could, he’d be doing that sexy clenching/unclenching thing where the veins in his hand stand out. Arousal slides between your legs and you make a show of drawing a finger through it. It’s a risk, you think as you raise it in front of you and rub the finger against your thumb. But you know every part of Loki, and he needs this. And now, if you’re careful, he can. Your finger, slick with your arousal, hovers close to Loki’s mouth and he opens, letting you dab it on his tongue. A dirty moan rumbles from his chest, and his eyes roll back like he’s tasted heaven. And maybe, for him, he has.

He's begged you over the past few weeks since he woke to let him touch you, to sit on his face; but he's been too delicate for that. Turning him down has been unbearable. He has a tough time controlling himself once the two of you start, and you couldn't live with yourself if you made it worse — but the lightened skin on his side is new. And it's good. “Roll on your side,” you whisper, grazing the finger down his shoulder. You press gently into the meat of his bicep. “See? It’s not bad, right?” His eyes light up. “Shhh,” you soothe, guiding the god to face you. His face contorts, a grunt slipping through his teeth. “Don’t even think about it,” he growls before the words 'maybe we should wait,' can even shape your tongue.

Loki positions himself on his side. His cock is straining against his stomach: flawless and pale against the backdrop of indigo abdominal muscle.

You kiss him a final time before curling against him, facing the wall. His cock slots perfectly between your ass-cheeks. Loki’s breath shakes against your neck: hot, quick. You hope he has his eyes closed; you hope he’s savouring every second of this as much as you are. As much as you relished the swell of his cum inside your gentle mouth over the past week since he’d recovered enough for you to show him how much you love him — this is different.

And fuck, you’ve missed him. You need this, both of you do. “Nothing fancy,” you whisper as you reach between your legs and cup the thick of his girth. Traces of pre-cum web against your fingers.  

“I don’t know what you mean, darling,” Loki croons. But beneath the bravado, his voice wavers.

The tip of his cock slides against your cunt. “We’ll need to be slow. I won’t be used to you after a month.” Loki’s chest shakes against your back with silent laughter. That must hurt, you think, but he presses a kiss into the curve of your neck. “Slow…I can do,” he says, before sucking a tender bite into the skin. Loki edges his hips forward, the crown of his cock nudging at the rim of your slit. You circle your hips, capturing it, pushing back just enough for your body to welcome him with a short pang of delicious pain. There’s an audible slurp as you take him deeper. You’d almost forgotten how good he feels inside you — almost.

“My love,” he croaks into your hair. You slide halfway down his length, and still. Loki pants gently, and you turn your face to his. “I fucking love you, Loki,” you breathe, “more than anything,” and his eyes grow wider. Those peaked brows sharpen as you sink to the base of his cock: ass meeting the flat of his toned stomach. He flinches. “I’m sorry.” You reach back and cup his jaw. Loki nuzzles into the touch. “Don’t be,” he says, tilting his hips back before burying inside you again with a whisper of, "I've missed you." Pleasure spreads beneath your skin like liquid silk. It’s everything: being in his arms; Loki buried in the deepest parts of you as his heart beats between your shoulder-blades. The ridges of his cock tug your neglected walls, an itch only he can scratch, and your fingers tighten against the bedsheets while his pretty gasps of praise caress your ear. The heat of his skin against your spine is electric. Loki’s hand slips over your waist, cupping your breast, brushing your nipple. “Be careful,” you whisper. But Loki’s kisses work down the curve of your shoulder, lingering on the angle of the blade.

His forehead presses against your skin: moist, warm, alive. Tears prick your eyes at the sudden, unwelcome, memory of when you thought you’d lost him forever. “I love you,” you moan again, and again, and again as he sinks in and retracts with each slow chant of the words.   Soon, you cum. And then, he follows. And Loki heals with each breath which makes your chest rise and fall while you slip beneath sleep: safe in his arms.

Tags in comments ❤️

A link to my Masterlist is here

[disgustingtwitches]

@rememberwren's Sperm donor!Johnny and Husband!Ghost has been stuck in my head for far too long. So here's a quick unedited little thing I wrote for it!

You forgot exactly what you were nervous about. Then again, you usually forget everything when your husband is between your legs.

“Gotta warm you up properly.”

He said earlier to Johnny and you, his large hand rubbing your thigh just a touch too high and making your face hot. 

You're not sure how much “warming up” you needed; he's been at it for God knows how long, and you're dizzy and pretty sure you can't feel your toes anymore. He can be so mean sometimes when he's like this, biting your thighs when you try to push his head away, smiling at how you whimper.

“You know, I'm starting to think you like it when I do that.”

As overstimulated as you are, you whine when he pulls away. You swear you can see the hearts in his eyes when he looks down at you. Gets you right in the heart. 

When he rolls out of bed and walks to the door you suddenly remember why your stomach was in knots earlier; you're about to sleep with his subordinate. No, that's not the right word. Brother in arms? Best friend? Their relationship always seemed more complex than words could describe. There's a soft knock on the door and you look up to see your husband walk in with Johnny in tow. 

Johnny's knees nearly give in at the sight of your body tangled up in the sheets, breathing hard, and skin glistening.

“Prettiest thing I've ever seen.” 

He smiles while unbuckling his pants. Simon hums in agreement and sits next to you, running his fingers up your arm and neck to caress your face. The look in his eyes could melt you right then and there, grounding and reassuring. Everything is going to be alright; it always has been and always will be.

Your eyes shoot back to Johnny, who's crawling over you slowly. You bite back a groan when Simon coos a good girl as you open your legs more, inviting Johnny to settle between them. The difference between your husband's face and the man hovering over you is night and day; Simon all soft and enamored, Johnny all fervid and lustful. 

“Ye ready?” 

Johnny's voice is almost as shaky as his hands, not nervous but almost deliriously aroused. You never had wandering eyes; it seems like it's wrong to even look at him now, but you don't want this to feel unnatural; you want to enjoy this. So you scan his body, toned chest falling and rising fast, strong arms caging you in, blue eyes so intense you have to look away.

“Uh-huh.”

You reply quietly, bucking your hips against his, your most sensitive parts rubbing against his. The gasp you share makes you both chuckle, easing the tension. You run your hands up his arms and wrap them around his neck. When you pull him closer, he follows eagerly, burying his face against the crook of your neck, stubble tickling you. 

“Dinnae have to do this if you don't want to, hen.” 

“No, I want to.” 

Your voice, smaller than you want it to be, makes Johnny's eyes soften. You look over to Simon, he cocks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow slightly, checking in. You just nod and he nods back. You keep your eyes on Simon while addressing Johnny,

“Ready.”

There's a pause, a shift, and then. You groan and roll your eyes back when he slides in, still facing Simon who blinks fast. Johnny breathes like the air was knocked out of him,

“Jesus…fuck…”

He curses to himself, face still buried at your neck, slowly moving his hips forward until his pelvis meets yours. You whine as he nips your neck and yelp when he punches his hips forward from the sounds you make. Your husband leans over and palms the back of his neck, talking in a low, serious tone that makes you tighten up, 

“Johnny.”

“Yeah, LT?”

“Ease up.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Johnny places a soft kiss where he bit you. It's all so…overwhelmingly intimate. Another man on top of you, grinding at just the right angle, hitting the right spots, all while your husband watches, instructing him. Simon pulls his hand away from Johnny's neck and shifts on the bed, sitting right next to you. Your eyes go wide when you turn to see him palming his erection. Oh. This is okay. This situation is more than okay. Simon fucking loves this. Johnny too. Guess you should throw away any reservations or doubts you had and just embrace this moment. Enjoy it to the fullest. 

Johnny pulls back, face slightly flushed, panting softly,

“She's so wet, Simon. Just so soft and perfect. Prettiest thing I ever saw...” 

You soak in the compliments but tune him out eventually, your attention drifting down to where Johnny slides in and out of you. It's a dreamy sight, really; you look so good together, it kind of reminds you how wonderful you and Simon look together. 

“Looks real nice, doesn't it? Taking me so well, hen.”

Johnny presses his forehead against yours, looking down while you hum in agreement. It's quiet for a moment, save for the occasional pant and moan or slick sounds from between your legs. A rough hand holds your left and another, larger hand grabs your right. It's all so sweaty, so sticky and sweet. So dazed, you barely register the first kiss Johnny plants on your lips. The second one makes your eyes shoot open, staring right at his annoyingly long, brown lashes until he pulls back and opens his eyes, blindingly blue. Your face gets hot, and you pull your hand to your face, your husband's fingers still intertwined with them. He extends his pointer finger to caress your cheek and you turn your face to look up at him. He's so gentle right now like he knows that's what you need from him. 

A smile plays on his face when you open your mouth and slide his finger into your mouth, sucking softly, rolling your eyes back, and moaning softly. You love giving him a show. Love making him melt in your mouth. He nods over to Johnny, whose jaw is slack, breathing hard. When you look at him, it's quite the sight: blue eyes wide and wild, mouth hanging open, and you can see his pulse right underneath his jawline beating wildly. Just fucking delectable. You pull your face away from Simon's hand and smile up at Johnny who groans and chuckles,

“Christ, LT.”

“Focus, Johnny. Ain't done yet.”

There's something feral that flashes in Johnny's eyes, hungry. Eager to please. You or Simon, you're not too sure. But he hooks an arm under your knees and hikes your leg up as far as it'll go, digging into you until you're a whimpering mess under him. His whole body pressed up against you, pinning you down. His mouth pressed right up against your ear, replacing every thought you had with his voice. 

“Right there? Huh? God, tight cunt right here…C'mon... Tell me how good it is…Tell me.”

He repeats the last phrase until you're mindlessly praising him, telling him what he wants to hear. What he needs to hear. You can feel him smile against the skin right under your ear before pressing tender kisses there. 

You're pressed chest to sweaty, hairy chest when you wrap your arms around him tighter, embracing him. All traces of guilt scraped away with Simon's breathy praise. You move one hand around until it rests on your husband's big thigh, and he tenses up under your touch. 

“C'mon love, give Johnny something real nice. He's been such a trooper, yeah?” 

You nod into Johnny's shoulder, breathless. 

“Uh-huh,”

It hits you hard and fast. Almost unexpectedly. Hearing a small moan escape Simon always sent you over the edge, though, always a rare moment when he lets himself relax and be vulnerable. 

Spasming and moaning under Johnny had his hips moving frantically, desperate for his own release. Biting his shoulder had him crashing right into it, digging deep into you until his hips still. He crushed you under his weight, licking the sweat off your neck. Simon pushed his head away though. 

“Don't forget, she's my wife Johnny.

His voice isn't harsh, it's almost soft. His large frame leans down and presses a tender kiss against your lips. Then another. And another. All while singing velvety praises between each one. For a moment, you forget about the other man in the room lying right on top of you. Until he pulls away, sliding out of you. Almost makes you whine til he starts pressing his lips against your sternum and stomach. Head in the clouds, you feel like you're floating. Suspended in this moment of pure bliss. 

“You got one more in you?”

Simon asks. Before you can answer, Johnny responds eagerly. 

“Always.”

[inkskinned]

we were drunk off mezcal and my dog had his paws crossed like he was fancy and we were giggling about it and i told you that with the sun coming back i can feel my fingers again and you grabbed my wrist and jokingly shook my limp hands while saying i have you i got you and i wanted to tell you i love you in that moment but it's actually just that it's spring and love actually seems like something that i can afford once in a while so long as i'm not overwhelmed by the crushing weight of having to do my laundry

i don't get so sad on sundays anymore and part of that is you but also part of it is that i've been watching a bird melodrama in the tree outside my window - first the robins had the run of it, then the doves. most recently a family of sparrows came through. the sky was pink today like a kiss, and i felt the pastel wrap in a warm piebald snake around my chest and hum herself into my bones

thank god for every person that forgives me for the depressive spirals i go on every winter without-fail like i swear there are absolutes in this world and it's stuff like. stoats go white in winter. the sun comes over the east. when it gets cold all parts of my soul go numb and the light can't pass through my iris without a tattoo gun. how many times can i tell a friend i'm sorry i wasn't talking to you, i truly wasn't talking to anyone

thank god i can feel my skin right now and you hold my weak little hand in your hand and then you flip it over so you can read my palm and you're smiling while you run fingertips over lines and read out my fate like it says here you like a good grillcheese sandwich and admit it you make salads by buying the pre-made spring mix and i have all your astrology shit memorized and i read your horoscope first when i'm checking my own even-though-i-don't-believe-in-it (but just in case) and i want to kiss you just to watch the blush spread in a tulip from under your freckles in that way it does, how you pull back and wrinkle your nose in laughter

thank god but today for the first time in a month i finally texted my friends back and actually made plans to hang out (how's that! barring disaster!) and i let my dog put his big muddy paws on my nice sweater and yeah actually when it's bad i always think i can't do that again. i can't crawl back up that mountain

but the sun touched me on the face this morning and we had a nice long talk about it and i said i gotta go the long way again huh and she nodded and shook back her solarflare hair and looked over to her moon girlfriend and she said you can do it. better things on the horizon.

[mercedista]

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓⠀⠀⠀→⠀⠀⠀𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:⠀A killer breaks into your room, except he doesn't kill you. Well, that's one of the pros of being his girlfriend, even if you don't know that behind the mask is your boyfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒):⠀Porn with plot, horror, non-con, dub-con, mention of murder, threat, poor smut.

𝐀/𝐍: Part two.

Paradise. That's where he was, watching you tremble beneath him, crawling across the carpet in escape-no, in denial that you wouldn't be able to flee. His heart was pounding just as much as yours, that he could swear. Except his was beating out of pure excitement, while yours, certainly, was not for anything positive.

"Oh, princess..." He chuckled, watching your back finally press against the wall, leaving you nowhere to go. He crouched down, the tip of the knife tickling your cheek. He didn't plan to hurt you-not yet-but the threat still loomed.

It hadn't even been five minutes since he broke into your room, and you were already making him hard. He licked his lips, almost savoring your panic, and it was definitely a delight. Yes, he loved the pleasure of killing people, but seeing his little girlfriend scared? That was something else.

Unconsciously, lost in thought, he was caressing your lips with his thumb. You recoiled, almost feeling disgusted by his touch, which might have offended him a bit since that snapped him out of his daydream. It was a little habit he had with you, except from your perspective, it was a killer in front of you, not your lover, so your reaction was more than understandable.

The knife still against your skin, but with no pressure. "Kill me... what's wrong with you? Stop playing with me and just do what you came here to do already," you said.

He tilted his head to the side, an expression of disappointment hidden beneath the mask. He thought it was obvious he wasn't going to kill you. "Stop touching me!" you snarled. "I have a damn boyfriend."

Naïve of you to think that saying that would stop a killer. Though he did find your loyalty adorable, even in a situation like that.

You thought you were successfully distracting him long enough to call your boyfriend, since hiding your phone behind your back was easy with his contact on speed dial.

"Nuh uh," he said. "Not that, princess." He snatched the phone from your hands. Ghostface froze, the shock you displayed gave him an extra dose of dopamine. His eyes shifted from your hypnotizing look of horror to the screen. Not that he needed to read the contact to know who you were trying to call.

His own phone vibrating in his pocket made everything clear. He had a hard time holding back laughter when he realized he was receiving the call.

"He's not going to answer you, sweet thing." His voice came out taunting even with the voice modulator.

Your hand reached for his mask. If you were strong enough-which you certainly weren't-you could have easily torn it off. Noticing your fingers gripping the black fabric, Ghostface grabbed your wrist.

"He's stronger than you." Your voice came out in a near-tense whisper. "My boyfriend. Even if you kill me. He'll find you. He's smart and strong."

"Oh, is he going to kill me, princess?" Ghostface released your wrist and used his hand to squeeze your face, your lips forming a pout, and it took everything in you not to rip off his mask and kiss him. However, that feeling quickly faded when you kicked him between the legs.

Ghostface screamed in pain, his voice modifier barely able to mask his tone with how loud it was. It was your chance to escape, if it weren't for his free hand—the other one was comforting himself where he'd been hit—grabbing your ankle and causing you to fall hard. "You...!"

You struggled, but he easily pinned you to the ground, stomach down. For God's sake, he almost lost his mind; lucky for you, he wasn’t in the mood to stay single that night.

Even though it wasn't in his pre-defined plans—or even in his current ones—to kill you, he wasn’t going to let it slide. Yes, you were his girlfriend. Yes, you were terrified, and it was justifiable. And yes, he loved you. But every action has its consequence.

His gloved hand left his crotch and tangled in your hair, his fingers gripping tightly to stop any further rebellion from you. Not that there was much chance of that, given that his heavy body was pressing you firmly against the ground; now, there was no way out.

"Damn it, I was going to play nice, but you just had to pull something like that." The killer gave your hair a sharp tug, and then a small yelp escaped your lips as you received a smack on the butt. And hell, you didn’t know whether it was his strength or the leather glove, but one of them—or maybe both—made that cursed slap hurt.

You didn’t even know where his knife had gone with how fast things were happening, but from your point of view, it wouldn’t be long before he drove it into your stomach.

You felt his weight lift off your body, but there wasn’t much time to think about it, as Ghostface was already dragging you by the hair to the bed, where he sat down. He forced you to kneel, still holding onto your hair. For a moment, his fingers relaxed imperceptibly as you gazed at the empty black eyes of that mask with your adorable, tear-streaked face staring back at him.

[strawberrykidneystone]

Fresh Out the Slammer I Know Who My First Call Will Be

stanley pines x fem! reader

summary: stanley needs to be bailed out. again. don't worry, he'll make it up to you! he swears!

a/n: i am not immune to the gravity falls renaissance,,, all 22 fingers iykyk

tags: smut, set the week before the twins come to gravity falls, reader is late 20s-early 30s, reader wears a skirt, pussy eating, cowgirl, spanking (like twice), creampie (wrap it before your tap it)

ao3 version

y/n stood at the counter of the police department once again, her arms crossed as she had to bail stan out.

again.

how many times has she have to do this? she didn't keep track anymore, yet she would still do it every time he called.

"hey sweets..." his sheepish voice would always ring out as he called to her from the small holding cell.

blubs grumbled something about this being a weekly occurrence as stan meekly came out of the cell, knowing he was going to be in the dog house tonight. stan quickly put his signature jewelry back on and rushed out in front of y/n and held the passenger side door of El Diablo open for her, putting on his best smile as she slid into her seat, her arms still crossed.

the ride home was quiet, the windows were rolled down and stanley glanced over every so often at y/n as the wind blew through her hair. god she was so beautiful, he didn't deserve her. she was always there for him, more than his own parents, more than his own brother, and he knew that every time he messed up like this she just got closer to leaving him like everyone else. he knows better, he knows he shouldn't think like this, and she gladly reassured him every time, but times like this in the deafening silence only being broken by the erratic purr of the engine, he couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts.

this time was somewhat of a last hurrah for stanley since he had the twins coming over. he stopped smoking his usual cigars and replaced all his beer with pitt, even giving y/n a small squirt gun to spray him every time he cursed, trying to get out of the habit before the impressionable 12-year-olds arrived for the summer.

when they arrived home, stan ran around el diablo once again and opened up y/n's door. she seemed less peeved than she was when she first arrived at the station, but she still kept quiet as she stepped out and walked into the mystery shack, stan trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

y/n sat at the edge of their shared bed and looked up at stan expectantly, an aura of annoyance surrounding her. she had one leg crossed over the other and arms crossed to match. "awe doll, don't look at me like that, this was the last time i swear!"

"the kids are coming next week stan! how do i know that this was really the last time?"

"let me prove it to you sweets, i promise on my mother that my act will be together for these kids,” he said holding one hand up and placing the other over his heart like an oath.

y/n frowned a little but gave the old man a curt nod, knowing how important their stay was to him and how much he's already been preparing already.

"lemme make it up to you doll," stan purred and got down on his knees with a little bit of exertion, crawling forward on his knees and gently prying her knees apart. he looked up at her with half-lidded eyes, pressing kisses to the inside of her knees with an exaggerated "mwah" each time along with his stubble scratching against her skin.

this made y/n crack a smile and reached a hand down to run her fingers through his hair, landing on the side of his face, "and how exactly are you going to do that stanley?"

he loved hearing his name from her mouth, he grinned up at her and tugged her closer by her thighs, causing her to sequel with her back landing on the bed, "oh i might have a few ideas doll."

stan pushed her skirt up around her hips and licked his lips, already seeing a wet spot on her panties, "all this just for me baby? you spoil me."

he leaned forward and licked a stripe up the soiled fabric, mouthing at her clothed pussy and reaching his hands around to grope her ass. he nuzzled his nose against her clit, inhaling her scent deeply and hearing a whine spill out from her, "stan stop teasing."

he muttered something incoherent about patience, but judging by the bulge in his pants, he didn't want to wait much longer either. stan hooked his thumbs through the sides of her underwear and with y/n lifting her hips up, slid them off with ease. he immediately dove in like a man starved, massaging his tongue against her sensitive nub and sucking every so often. moving his mouth down, his nose nudged against her clit, encouraging her to rub herself against it as he thrusted his tongue inside of her. she took the hint and grinded her hips against his nose, moaning at the new stimulation while being partially filled up, feeling his tongue rubbing against her walls.

stan groaned and pulled back panting, her slick all over the bottom half of his face, "can't take it anymore doll, need you to ride me."

she giggled and rolled her eyes, "alright, get on the bed old man."

she turned over on all fours to crawl further up on the bed, stan taking the opportunity to give her ass a playful smack, a small squeak falling from her lips. y/n sat back on her heels and took off her shirt, along with her bra. by the time she turned around, stan was comfortably lying with his back against the headboard, completely naked with his cock standing up high.

y/n shuffled on her knees over to him and straddled his thighs, stan looking up at her light she hung all the stars in the sky causing her to blush deeply. she took his cock into her hand and rubbed the tip in between her lower lips, stan salivating as he watched his precum mix with her own arousal with his hands quickly making their way to her hips. as she finally sank down on his length, both of them let out a sigh of pleasure as her warm walls engulfed him.

she took a moment to adjust to his length, allowing his hands to wander up her waist, squeezing her breasts in his big hands and brushing his thumbs over her nipples every so often. he leaned forward and sucked on her left nipple, teething softly but careful to not bite down too hard, switching to the other a short time later. while he was showing affection to her breasts, she ran her hands over his hairy shoulders and reached towards his upper back, running her nails just hard enough to leave a mark. she gave an experimental bounce, her breath hitching as he finally bottomed out inside of her. stan unlatched from her breasts and leaned back, his gripping her ass with a shit-eating grin, "you ready to ride toots?"

she let out a breathy laugh and put her hands on his beer gut, leaning forward slightly to steady herself, "i'd be more concerned about myself if i were you."

as he was about to respond with something snarky, she lifted herself almost completely off of him before sinking back down quickly. he moaned and leaned his head back, giving her a little support with her movements with his hands. stan smacked her ass as she found a steady rhythm, feeling her squeeze around him. "that's it, that's my good girl."

stan grabbed her hips and kept her in place, thrusting up into her with his feet pushing down into the mattress, watching her breasts bounce with each movement. y/n moaned and arched her back, reaching a hand down to rub her clit for more stimulation, "yes! right there, don't stop stan!"

stan kept with the pace he was at and could feel himself getting close, gritting his teeth, "where do you want it doll?"

"inside, please!"

he nodded and reached one of his calloused hands down to rub her clit, replacing her own hand as he continued to thrust inside of her as she moved with him. with the rough texture of his hand, y/n opened her mouth in a silent scream as she reached her peak with stan not far behind as he released his seed inside of her.

the two sat in a comfortable silence, only their heavy breathing filling the room. y/n looked down at him and smiled sleepily, affectionately tapping his chest, "good job keeping up oldie."

he snorted and put his hand behind his head, "'m sorry doll, it was one last hurrah. am i forgiven?"

y/n pretended to think and tapped her chin with her index finger, "hmm i don't know... yes of course, I'll always be there to bail you out stan, you know that."

a soft smile rested on his face as he took the hand on his chest, kissing each fingertip, "i know you will doll, and I'm damn lucky to have you."

she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, grinning like a cheshire cat suddenly, "i took your bail money from your buried cash box."

"you WHAT-"

a/n: ty for reading!!! also it's my fanfic and i'll write as many run on sentences as i want!!!

[theemporium]

Hii :)

Can I please get a smut berry daiquiri with Mr. Verstappen and number 37

Please and thank you 😊

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

37. “Oh, fuck—do that thing with your tongue again."

.

It was a bad idea. 

Somewhere in the back of his head, there was a logical voice that was telling him just how bad it was, listing off all the ways this could completely backfire and explode in his face and ruin him. But if he was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Not when you had your mouth wrapped around his cock. 

Max wasn’t even totally sure how the two of you ended up in the position. It was a mix of Max forgetting he had made plans with the boys and you feeling bratty and needy and wanting his attention all to yourself. It seemed like the perfect compromise in his pleasure-fogged brain when you got up from your seat on the couch, crawling between his legs as he sat on his SIM chair and tugged at his shorts until his cock was free. 

It could be worse. 

He could be livestreaming. 

But maybe being on a call with a few of the other drivers from the grid whilst you were kneeling between his legs, sucking his cock and pulling every dirty trick in the book was just as bad as being live and streaming. 

“Shit,” Max muttered, his eyes half-focused on his character dying on the screen and the way your cheeks hallowed around him. 

“Get your head in the game, Verstappen!” 

“Oh my god.”

“Max, that’s the third time you’ve died in five minutes!’

“I’m fucking aware, mate,” Max ground out between gritted teeth, his hands gripping onto his controller as he tore his eyes away from the game’s loading screen to look down at you, only to let out a series of whispered curses under his breath. 

Your wide eyes were glued to him, watching every single movement and reaction like a hawk. His cheeks were flushed red, his lips red and raw from biting down on them too much. His chest was moving quickly with soft pants, his thighs spread and splayed out and begging for you to dig your nails into his pale skin just to watch him squirm. 

And the hints of panic that originally shone in his eyes when you first tugged at his shorts were long gone, replaced with longing and desire to feel your mouth around his dick. 

You pulled off, slow enough for the boy’s eyes to be glued to you as you finally removed your mouth with a soft ‘pop’. He swallowed harshly, watching as you stuck your tongue out, softly tapping his cock against it before wrapping your lips around his tip and sucking with the right amount of pressure to make his hips buck. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Max breathed out, his eyes clenched shut as your tongue teased the slit on the head of his cock, soft kitten licks that had the coil in his stomach tightening. 

“Dude, what are you swearing at? The game hasn’t even begun yet.” 

“God, he is preparing to lose already.” 

“You sound a bit breathless.” 

But Max was hardly listening as you wrapped your hands around the remaining length of his cock, twisting and stroking as your tongue continued to tease his tip until he knew he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Oh, fuck—do that thing with your tongue again,” Max moaned, his voice whiny and breathless and desperate to finally come down your throat. 

“Holy shit, Max, are you fucking—” 

“Mind your own business, Norris,” he spat out, slamming down random keys until the call cut out and the game was gone and he could finally rip his headphones off and bury his fingers in your hair as he came. “Oh shit, baby, yes. Just like that. Fuck, you feel so good.” 

lando: you are one dirty bastard 

lando: sounded hot tho, say well done to the missus

lando: pretty sure charles enjoyed it just as much as you

.

[slxt4chriss]

‘Pillowtalk’

Summary: Intimate sex with Matt and almost getting caught afterwards…

Warning: Protected p in v, Soft!Matt, Dolly!Reader, No use of Y/n, Reader POV, Swearing, Crempie, Nickname usage (Dolly, Sweetheart, Baby, Matty, Doll), Somewhat Rough!Matt?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Need you s’bad matty” she whined arching into his needy touch. “I know Dolly, just hold f’me” he said softly as he dug through the drawer by the side of his bed. “Oh, Fuck!” He gasped as he slowly slid into her gummy walls. “Fuck, always so tight f’me doll.”

“O-oh” she whined as he pulled out and slid back in. “Feel s’good baby” she moaned arching her back into him, as he moved her legs to her shoulders to give him more access hitting deeper.

“Fuck, look at you princess, taking this dick so good f’me” he groaned throwing his head from the ecstasy of being inside of her. “Oh, my god” she screamed throwing her head into the pillows next to her to hide her ridiculously lewd noises. “Don’t hide that pretty fuckin’ face doll,” he rasped “Show me how much you like this dick sweetheart,” she whined his name.

“Fuck Matt, I’m so close” she moaned dragging his face down to hers to muffle the sounds of the effect the slapping skin and groans had on her, by kissing him deeply, tongues colliding with each other in a dance of dominance.

“Fuckk, keep squeezin’ me like that ma, I’m so close” he rasped picking up his pace and ramming into her getting tougher than normal. “Matt, Don’t stop,” she moaned lewdly, “Please.”

As his paces quicker with every thrust she felt her self crumble more and more, finally coming undone a mess under him and screaming his name. It didn’t take long for him to follow suit, his load shooting into the condom as he pulled out and slid it off.

“Fuck, Dolly I love you so much.” He said softly kissing her and rubbing her cheeks making her feel safe. “L’me clean you up babe,” he said hissing her jaw as she collapsed into the pillows exhausted.

“matt,” she cried as he put the wet towel to her puffy and red core, “I know doll, one second more okay?” He said soothingly cleaning up her mess before running back to change and discard the towel. Quickly coming back to lay in bed with her to cuddle.

“WERE HOME!” Chris yelled as he and nick walked through his door. “Jesus fuck dude, can you knock maybe?” Matt groaned as his brother sauntered through the room. “Whatever, pizzas on the table.” He said as he left.

“perfect timing” she giggled crawling on his chest and laying down wrapping her arms around his neck. “Talk about it” he chuckled. “I love you.” She whispered into his mouth kissing him endearingly, “What if, I Love you more?” He smiled into the kiss.

“Highly impossible” She giggled.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

A/n: AGHH first Matt smut, kinda scaredddd, also I was watching love island while making This, nobody cares but oh well🫶

as always

-Stay kind stay hot yall xoxo gossip girl💋

©Slxt4chriss

[saetoru]

tee!!! i hope u don't mind me asking about rb!gojo but i've been wondering if he's ever visited reader at work? :o (actually i wonder a lotta thINGS about rich boy! gojo and reader, this is just the thought that i think about the most LMAO)

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SECURITY — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college! au, rich boy! gojo, established relationships, reader’s work is unspecified ; notes. niku HELP. i bet he does visit often and i bet it’s equally endearing as it is utterly embarrassing

for anyone else, having your boyfriend visit you at work is sweet. it’s romantic. it might even be the standard—for you, having satoru visit is a nightmare.

“hiya baby! i brought lunch—i know you didn’t have time to eat breakfast today, you were running late. i kept you up all night, huh? you seemed tired. what can i say? i’m just too good at what i do.”

what. the. fuck—every time satoru opens his mouth, you regret not sewing it shut when you had the chance. he manages to make you wish you could crawl into your own skin and turn inside out.

you glare at him. he grins.

“this is your boyfriend?” your coworker gapes, staring at satoru as he plasters a smug little smirk on his face—a part of you wants to tell your coworker to stop looking at him with heart eyes before you staple them shut. the other part wants to deny ever being involved with the jerk that’s effectively embarrassed you for the rest of your career in the span of two seconds.

“i don’t know who this is,” you say quickly, “can we get security?”

“wha—what are you talking about? i’m literally your boyfriend,” satoru sputters. you look at your coworker like he’s crazy—she looks at you like you’ve grown two heads.

“he’s not,” you insist.

“i am!”

“definitely not,” you shake your head.

satoru looks more than a little offended. “i totally am! don’t lie!”

“i swear he’s not my boyfriend,” you chuckle nervously, “i don’t even date guys with freaky blue eyes and weird white hair, really!”

“hey!” he gasps, pouting, “that’s mean! you called me handsome this morning!”

“i don’t even know his name,” you insist—your coworker doesn’t seem to believe you, unfortunately. why doesn’t she believe you? you plead with the universe that she somehow, by the grace of god, believes you.

“that’s a lie,” satoru snorts, “you knew it pretty well last night. i think my neighbors know it too.” leave it to gojo satoru to embarrass you even worse than he already has at your job of all places.

“satoru,” you scold harshly before you realize—and then you blink before sighing because…well, you’ve really backed yourself into a corner with that one.

“aha,” he grins victoriously, “see? you know my name. now introduce your boyfriend who took the time to cook you—”

“buy,” you correct. he huffs.

“fine. buy you lunch—still very thoughtful, if you ask me.”

“wow,” your coworker giggles, “you guys are…certainly a dynamic.”

“thank you!” satoru grins, beaming as he sends you a wink. you think you might have to put in your two weeks notice during your lunch break—but at least you can wallow in your miseries with an expensive lunch provided by the bane of your existence.

“that wasn’t a compliment, satoru,” you grumble.

“well, at least he’s cute,” she chuckles, elbowing you.

you scowl, crossing your arms as you warn, “don’t be looking too closely. he enjoys the attention.”

“are you jealous?” satoru wiggles his brows. with a fake smile, you grab the lunch from his hands before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“thank you for lunch baby,” you hum—he smiles, ready to answer when you cut him off, “security!”

this is so unserious 💀

[skiiyoomin]

ʚCont: fluff, a bit of swearing, gender neutral reader, can yall tell i got lazy with the ending? 😁

⤑Back to navigation

"Please?"

"No."

"Pleaseee, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

A chin rests on Bakugous knees, big round eyes staring up at him with that adorable pout on your lips. He had to turn his head away and push your face back, albeit gently, so as to not fall under your charm. You really had him weak, how embarrassing.

"Quit staring at me with those damn bug eyes"

You whine in protest as you move from your spot on the floor to his very comfortable lap. When he still refused to turn his head, you took matters into your own hands. You cupped his jaw and forcibly turned his head toward you, though he wasn´t really resisting much.

"Please Katsu?"

Even if he tried to look away, his eyes always drifted back to your batting lashes and sweet smile, how could he say no when you look at him like that?

"God dammit fine"

The way your smile turned upwards with glee had his heart clenching with overwhelming emotions he didn´t want to get rid of.

He let you push his spiky blonde strands back with a headband while you moisturize his smooth skin. Your hands, as always, were so gentle on his skin no matter what you did. You took your time applying whatever it is that you applied on his face, he didn´t really care much to be honest. He was only zoned in on the way your eyebrows furrowed just the slightest bit, or the way you bit your bottom lip as you focused on the task at hand.

However, his attention drifted to the eyeliner as you pulled the cap off, revealing the pointy end.

"You better not poke my eye out with that crap"

He grumbled, still eyeing the pointy end as you moved it closer to his eye. You merely laugh in response.

"You scared?"

You coo in a taunting tone. But you cut your own laughter off with a squeal when he pushes you off his lap and moves to stand up.

"Wait no! I was just kidding! Come back!"

You push him back down on the couch and crawl back onto his lap for good measure. Giggling, you press kisses to his lips.

"Sorry sorry, i´ll stop teasing"

Bakugou grumbles in response and relaxes once more into the cushions. Comfortable silence fills the room once again, making a sense of drowsiness fill his senses. However, he´s snapped out of his stupor when you mutter while you finish up the mascara"You´re so pretty Katsu"

He would never get used to your compliments. No matter how many times you said it, your words never failed to make a rosy blush bloom on his cheeks. Instinctively he turns his head away to hide the growing redness. You cup his cheek and press small butterfly kisses all around his face.

"Don´t get shy on me now pretty boy"

With one last kiss to his temple, you pull back and grab a mirror for him to admire your work. He had to admit you did a damn good job.

"Looks good, now get it off my face"

You pout. "Oh come onn, keep it on for a while, I worked hard!"

"It feels annoying!"

"At least let me take pictures!"

He groans, letting you pull him back to the couch, he´d be in for a looong afternoon.

[im-ovulating]

(A/n: The Stoner! Sero brain rot is real)

(I'd say "don't do drugs and stay in school, kids" but y'all aren't supposed to be here so I think all my bases are covered lol)

(Not proofread)

Word Count: 1,352

Summary- The herb might relax him but nothing helps as much as sinking into your hot, wet cunt.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs (Sero smoked beforehand + him and reader smoke towards the end), Pull-out method (use protection ppl, STDs and pregnancy don't seem fun!)

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Stoner! Sero x Fem! Reader: Stress Relief

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

From Hanta💕:

'Hey babe, mind if I swing by?'

Read 10:27 pm

It's as soon as your confirmation sends that you hear a knock at your window.

"There's no fucking way…" you mumble, moving to look past your curtains. Sure enough, the lazy grin of your boyfriend is just behind the glass.

"If you had said "no," this would be very awkward," his voice is muffled as he scratches the back of his head with a chuckle.

You slide the window open and yank him inside, ready to scold his recklessness. "What if you'd been caught? My parents would never allow you over again!"

Hanta pulls you in by the waist, "But I didn't~"

"Missed you…" He says, dipping down to kiss you.

The kiss tastes earthy and you immediately know the real reason for his visit. "Rough day?"

His head drops to your shoulder with a groan, "That obvious?"

"With the weed breath mixed with the way you're gripping my ass? Not at all." His hold loosens a bit at the call out, but his hands don't move.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

"I never said you had to be," you guide his lips back to yours, backing up until your bed takes your legs out.

Hanta wastes no time following you down. His fingers come up to trace the line of your jaw before tangling in your hair, drawing it back so he can suck marks into the delicate skin. You can't help but to sigh out a moan when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. "I want you so badly right now, baby…"

"Then have me," you gasp at the cool fingers that are suddenly under your shirt, inching their way up to toy with your breasts.

They stop in their tracks as he pulls back enough to gaze at you with blown pupils. "Oh, I plan to."

His voice is rough with need as he sits up to shed his shirt, exposing him to your ogling. Once his shirt is somewhere across the room, he slides his hands back up your shirt until he can pull it off of you.

You work on your pants and underwear while he watches as more and more of your skin becomes available.

"Fucking hell, babe-" He grips under your knees to yank you down the bed, flushing your hips with his. Hanta leans down to kiss you again, shifting his weight to one hand as the other slides between you to feel the growing dampness between your thighs. "So wet... This for me?"

Gathering your arousal, he brings his fingers to his lips and makes a show of tasting you. The sight of him sucking your juices off of his fingers has you clenching around air, desperate for any relief.

With a *pop*, his fingers leave his mouth; he wipes his spit off on your sheets as you pull him down for another kiss. The earthy flavor of the weed he smoked earlier mixes with your tangy sweetness in a way that has your eyes rolling back and a moan sneaking up your throat. He grinds his hips into yours, letting you feel the prominent bulge beneath the denim.

"Sero Hanta, if you don't fuck me right now, I'm gonna riot, I swear to god-" You tug on his beltloop, getting impatient with all the touching.

"Someone's impatient," He laughs, shaking his head as he stands up, "Don't worry, baby, I gotcha."

Deft fingers unbutton his jeans and slide down the zipper; he shimmies out of them, kicking them to the side along with his boxers and finally freeing his hard length. You reach out, pulling him close as he crawls back over you.

His arm flexes next to your head as it takes on his weight while the other lines the head of his cock up with your slick folds. Slowly, he pushes into you, inch by agonizing inch, until he's buried to the hilt. A guttural groan escapes his lips at the feeling of your tight cunt enveloping him. "Fuck, you feel amazing..."

Your hands grip at his shoulders at the stretch, but your legs eagerly fall apart, allowing him to sink even deeper inside.

"That's it, baby. Open up for me; let me make you feel good."

His calloused hands grip your hips, steadying you as he starts to thrust in long, languid strokes. HIs eyes are hooded with lust as he drinks in the sight of you sprawled out beneath him.

You clamp your hands over your mouth as he picks up the pace, not wanting to be caught. Especially not when you can feel your core tightening, preparing for release.

Hanta leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continues steadily thrusting into you.

Suddenly, he shifts, causing him to brush against you just right; the jolt it sends through you has your toes curling and your hand shooting up to grip his arm, desperate to grounding.

"Oh, my god, Hanta. Do that again," you plead, needing to feel that again.

A wolfish grin spreads across his face, his hips snapping forward again and again, abusing your cunt. "You like that, baby? I've got plenty more where that came from..."

"You feel incredible... so hot and tight around me." HIs thrusts pick up speed, pounding into you with deep, calculated strokes that leave you trembling. He slips his hand down once more to draw tight, little circles on your clit, matching the rhythm of his hips.

Your walls start clamping down, attempting to keep his length inside you as you get closer and closer to cumming. The sudden tightness makes Hanta choke out a groan; it forces him to slow to a grind inside of you. Your hips have started to roll up to meet his thrusts and god, you're so close.

His thumb presses harder against your sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. "C'mon, princess, come undone for me; I wanna feel you fall apart on my cock."

His pace grows more erratic, chasing both of your releases as the coil of pleasure clenches impossibly within you. It feels like as soon as it tightens to it's limit, the coil snaps and you cum with a debauched moan. Hanta's hand shoots up from playing with your clit to clamp down on your mouth.

"Shhh!" His frantic shushing does little in quieting you when his mouth returns to sucking and nipping at your neck.

His hips start to falter, the clamping of your walls around him drawing his own orgasm out; with a few more erratic thrusts, he finds his release, slipping out of you just in time to paint your thighs with his milky spend.

With a final shudder, he collapses against you, rolling to the side just enough to avoid crushing you. He holds you against him as you both thrum with the aftershocks of your climaxes. Thoroughly dazed and satisfied, Hanta presses sloppy, lazy kisses along your jaw and neck.

After laying together for a minute, Hanta rolls over to grab his jeans from the floor, rummaging through the pockets before he suddenly grins, producing a blunt and his dented zippo. He nestles back against the pillows, pulling you against him. Flicking the lighter to life, he sparks the end, taking a long, slow drag. He holds the smoke for a moment before exhaling, the fragrant haze curling around you both.

"Care to share, beautiful?" He holds it out to you, gaze heated as he watches you take a puff with it still held between his fingers, your fingers wrapped gently around his wrist. Your eyes don't leave his as you slowly breathe it out through your nose.

His hand caresses your jaw, careful to keep the cherry away from your skin. "My pretty baby..." he murmurs before taking another pull, savoring the heady sensation as the drug curls around his mind.

He presses a kiss to your lips, prying the open and breathing the smoke into you. "Let's stay like this for a while, hm?"

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part three. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you tell john about your childhood & the things you still want despite it, & he tells you about his, knowing once & for all that you’re meant to belong to him & him alone. · word count: 2,409

You’re just beginning to drift off when you hear a soft knock against the glass.

You groan into your pillow and could swear you hear a deep chuckle from the other side of the door in response.

You slowly rise—head spinning from exhaustion—and pad over to the door, silently flipping the lock before throwing yourself back down face-first into the mattress, pulling a thin blanket over your bare legs.

John enters the room, staring down at you, arms folded behind his back. “What? No dinner for your man tonight?”

You mentally roll your eyes at him calling himself that yet again, but don’t reply to that particular comment. “I already ate. I’m going to sleep.”

He huffs, glancing around your small apartment, then back to you. “Guess I’ll just climb in there with y—”

“Not with your suit still on you aren’t,” you mumble into your pillow.

He raises a brow in interest, smirking, surprised you’re not trying to argue otherwise. Maybe that’s the key to getting his way, then, until you start caving all on your own: take advantage when you have no energy to fight back. When you’re soft and tired and at his will to do with as he pleases.

“See you’re finally starting to see things my way,” he states smugly.

You roll over then, looking at him. “You’re not wearing your outside clothes in my bed. It’s not a come-on.”

He toes off his boots, then settles his hands on his hips, as if he’s debating something internally.

It doesn’t take much effort for you to understand what.

His suit is his metaphorical armor. You still have yet to understand why he’s so insecure, though—why his ego is so fragile. That’s the one thing about him that should be ‘untouchable’, so to speak. Then again, being physically bulletproof doesn’t have any bearing on what’s inside.

And what’s inside seems, still, like a little boy living in a man’s body, to you.

He needs to feel wanted. He’d seemed pleased last night when you’d talked about seeing him again—like you were finally giving him what he’s been desiring since that day he first set eyes upon you in your university’s auditorium: your willing attention.

Your eyes flutter closed, throwing a bone his way. “I’m cold.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remove his suit—leaving him clad only in a pair of dark-blue briefs. And it makes him want to crawl out of his fucking skin.

But you’re all but finally asking for him. You want him. You’ve finally come around.

He knew you would. No woman can resist. Not even you. Young and pretty you may be, but you’re still not educated enough to know what’s in your best interest, clearly. Best interest being him. That’s the problem with all these liberal ‘schools’. They don’t teach what they used to: love of ones country. Instead, they’d tried to turn you against him.

But he can still pull you back. It seems like he already has as you lie there, waiting for him.

So, he climbs into bed next to you, pulling the covers over himself, and then he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

He smiles softly when you gently press your palms to his pecks.

“I like you better like this,” you say, cuddling closer, wondering how he’ll react to it.

He tightens his arms around you then and you squeak.

“John, you’re crushing me.”

He loosens his hold, feeling the least bit pathetic.

He’s done this before—held a woman so tightly that it resulted in her life being cut short he was that fucking desperate for affection.

He lets you go entirely then, rolling onto his back, hating himself.

He doesn’t need anyone. Why can’t he get that through his goddamn head? Why the fuck should he care what a weak, useless, lonely little human like you thinks about him—a god? He should just kill you instead. He does that, and you’re no longer all he’s able to fucking think about all day—to a disturbingly obsessive degree. It’d be as simple as—

You scoot closer, sliding a warm, dainty hand up his chest until it’s resting gently against his cheek and his mind immediately goes blank—his face twitching as he fights back tears.

Maybe your superpower is just…comforting maternal gestures, then.

At least with you he won’t have to compete with another to receive them. Unlike Madelyn…and Teddy. The little shit. Taking what should’ve been—had been—his.

But you? There is no competition. He assumes, at least.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks quietly.

You pop an eye open, staring at him as he stares up at the ceiling, his face entirely void of emotion.

Lying would be useless, you’re sure. He works for Vought—or with—you’re sure they could have a comprehensive background check done on you in a handful of minutes…if he hasn’t already done as much. You have half-a-mind to ask, but you’re not sure you want the answer to such a question.

“No.”

His lip twitches, turning upwards into a smile, which leaves you feeling uneasy.

“So you’re all mine, then.”

You open both eyes, blinking at him, heartrate beginning to climb. “I—”

He shakes his head slightly. “No. Wasn’t a question.”

He turns back onto his side then, sliding a heavy hand over your hip, holding you possessively in his grip. “You said you’d tell me about ‘her’ tonight.”

You brush your thumb against his cheek, eyes drifting down to his chest, not wishing to meet his own now.

You want to go back to his comment—one he’s made more than once now, just in varying ways—about…ownership. He surely doesn’t mean it.

But every time you’ve tried to assure yourself of anything concerning him: that he won’t come back, that he won’t really hurt you—you’ve been wrong.

Maybe you’re not as good at reading people as you like to think you are. Most of all him.

You just still don’t understand why you’re a subject of fascination for him yet. Like you’d told yourself the other day…what’re you compared to any of the other women in his life? But maybe that’s it, then. Just like him, they’re forced to put on a mask, not letting anyone in deeper than surface-level, lest the plastic cracks.

It seems like he just…wants to connect.

No wonder you’ve been so tired the last couple of days—constantly wracking your mind, trying to understand him. As if it’s even possible. He’s been an actor all his life.

You sigh.

“I’m sure you won’t…be able to relate. I’m envious of you in that: your perfect childhood, and life. I wish I’d had that…”

You trail off for a moment.

“My mother,” you say quietly. “I haven’t seen her since I was eighteen and left for college. Half the reason I even went was to get away from her. I didn’t care about student loans and living in debt if it got me out of that house. For the first couple of years I lived in a dorm room…and it was the first time I’d ever known peace. No more walking on eggshells, no more fighting, or being called horrible names, or having to cautiously measure what mood I think she’s in each day—or hour—lest I provoke her.”

You slide your hand down to his neck, softly curling your fingertips inward. “I can’t…”

You pause, tears stinging your eyes.

He pulls you closer to him, silently encouraging you to continue.

“Yet I still feel like I can’t get away from her. Not even here. Not even hundreds of miles from home—if you can even call it that. Because she’s always with me. In my head. Beating me down, making me feel worthless—like…all my self-worth still needs to hinge upon her and how she feels. If she’s happy. When did it become my job to look after her, and not the other way around? And even when I did…she still abused me for it. Nothing I ever did was right.”

You bite your lip trying to fight back tears.

“When I was young, I wanted what we’re all supposed to once we grow up: a husband, a home, babies. And then I got older, and because of her I tried to convince myself otherwise. Tried to pound into my head that I didn’t want kids. That what I really wanted was a hysterectomy. That way, I’d never have to risk turning into her: becoming the monster of a mother that she was.”

You ignore the tears running down your cheeks now. “But it’s how I’m different from her that matters most. She’s taken enough away from me. Stolen enough of my life. I want children. I deserve to be a mother. To have a family. To make my own. She doesn’t get to have that, too. She doesn’t.”

Your chin wobbles and you let out a small sob. “I’m sorry.”

He only holds you closer, unsure what to even say. He’s never known how to comfort others. He’s always expected it to be provided to him instead. But only from women. And only in secret. Because he can’t be seen as some fucking weakling.

Because he’s not. He’s not.

He is the strongest man in all the world. The most superior. The master of his race.

You continue to softly cry, and it’s then that he makes a decision, knowing that if it ends terribly—with you emasculating him, or betraying his trust—well, it will take no effort from him to rectify the situation. But he’s sure that you won’t, because, little-by-little, you’ve shown your true colors: how maternal you truly are.

You just said it yourself. And it’d sounded like the most beautiful fucking music to his ears to hear: how desperate you are for a child.

You want someone to look after? Well, here he is. He needs your love. He can admit it now. To himself, at least. Even if it tastes like rancid vinegar to do so.

“I didn’t have it: a perfect childhood. It’s all fucking bullshit. You want to know how I was really raised?”

You grow quiet then, only occasionally sniffling as you slip your fingers into his hair, gently stroking his soft, blond strands.

“I grew up in a lab like a rat. These…doctors kept me locked in a sterile white room with nothing but a blanket for comfort. Not even a bed. Not a pillow. No toys. No TV. Nothing. All while they performed test after fucking test after—”

He clenches his teeth. “Watching me every second of every day. No privacy. Treating me like some…sideshow attraction. Burning me and laughing at me and just—watching.”

Your chin wobbles.

“I never knew my parents because I was designed in a test tube. I was created to be this. The greatest superhero the world has ever known. They tried to make me perfect. And I am,” he tacks on.

He’s unsure whether he’s trying to convince himself of that, or you.

“But I’m just—”

“Lonely,” you say, interrupting him with tears slipping down your cheeks—your heart shattering, for him.

You wrap your arms around his neck then, finally understanding him. Finally seeing a shred of humanity behind his ‘tough-man’ facade.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” you say between sobs. “I am so sorry for what they did to you.”

All you can picture in your mind’s eye is a sweet, blond little boy sitting in a room all alone, waiting for someone to come for him. To care. To hold, or love him. For them to stop hurting him, all while he was left to wonder what he did wrong to deserve such horrible treatment.

How…how could anyone do that? To a baby? To a little boy?

You shouldn’t care. Not after what he did to you just two nights ago, but you can’t help it. Because in this moment you just see a broken man that has nowhere else to turn.

He slides impossibly closer, burying his face between your breasts, quietly crying.

You shoosh him, running your fingers through his soft hair.

Here lies the most powerful—invincible—man in all the world in your arms—a man who has always seemed a larger than life titan…somehow he feels so small now. You’d been right to see him as just a scared little boy looking for someone to comfort him. And it serves only to break your heart all the more.

 “I’m so sorry, baby,” you say.

And it reminds him of a loving mother consoling her child. Something he’s never had the gift of having.

He mouths it against your breast then, just…wanting to try it—to know how it feels: ‘mommy’.

And it comes to him naturally. Like…this is meant to be.

And he knows in that moment with absolute certainty that you’re the one. You’re supposed to be his. Meant to belong to him alone. You were born to.

He’ll kill anyone who even attempts at coming between the two of you. He’ll rip him in fucking half with his bare hands just to keep you. Just to show you this newfound devotion.

And he’s sure you’d be thankful for it.

Your mother expected you to do everything for her? He can show you the opposite: so long as you love him, he can give you the same.

He’ll take care of you. He’ll make sure you don’t go without anymore. He has more than enough money for the two of you. Is willing to expend the effort to keep you as his sole property.

It’s all he’s ever wanted: to be loved. And now here you are in his arms with an open, maternal heart meant to love him.

Besides…how could you ever dream of doing better than the most singular and superior man in all the world? No other pathetic human specimen could ever compete.

You’ll be thanking him one day for having come into your life. For saving you. But that’s what he does: he saves people. And it seems you—his new purpose—need him most of all.

Before long, you’ll see just how much.

Before long…you won’t have any idea how to live without him. Already he feels the reverse: no idea how to live without you.

Not that he’ll have to, because you’re not going anywhere.

If you tried, he’d simply follow, because there’s nowhere you could hide that he wouldn’t find you.

You’re his.

All his.

His girl.

His woman.

Mommy.

[nebulaafterdark]

Dearest Love

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon and Y/N are newly married and thus they must begin producing heirs. Set before the ‘More Than Anyone’ series. Inspired by @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

Warning: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY! Targcest, mentions of sex.

“That was a heavy sigh, sweetheart.” Aegon chuckles as his wife turns away from him. “You reached your peak, did you not?”

“I am not yet with child.”

“Mmm, and I have been doing my best to remedy that.”

“What if I am barren?”

“You are not,” Aegon scoffs. “Ripe little thing, you are. If it is either of us, it must be me.”

“They will blame me.” Y/N murmurs.

“Who, my darling?” He demands, using his arms to reel her back in. “Who will blame you? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You do not understand the pressure that I am under to produce an heir.” She begins anxiously toying with his fingers.

He does not understand, they’ve been married but a moon turn, almost two.

“Sweet girl,” he frowns, nuzzling the side of her face. “If it does not take, there are other things we might try.”

“Like what?” The princess wonders, smushing their cheeks together.

“Never you worry about that, hmm? I will give you a babe, as many as you want. As many as you’ll give me, but you must settle down.”

“I am settled.”

“Even your cunny was tense.”

“Aegon,” Y/N whines, covering both hands over her face.

“None of that,” he chuckles, feeling himself harden again. Sliding into her slick from behind, the pair on their sides. “You know I adore you.”

“Aegon,” she sighs, reaching back to stroke his hair.

“Try to enjoy yourself, dearest.” Aegon murmurs, “let us not make a chore of it. When you are with child I will want you still.”

“Will you?”

“Every morn, noon and night I will want you. I want you always.” One hand wanders down from her hip to her belly, stroking the warm skin there. “Soon you will swell with our child. So very soon. I swear it on all my love for you.”

Love, a frivolous endeavor, as Aegon had called it not so long ago, is now the currency which he swears by. Y/N nods, lacing their fingers together for just a moment before he is pulling away.

Bringing her leg backwards to rest over his hip. Fingers teasing her bundle of nerves once more. “Now-” her little cunt is sloppy, loud and hot as his earlier release lingers within, “be a good girl for me.” He keeps her full of his seed, fingers and cock. Determined to give her exactly what she wants.

News breaks over the next few weeks, the Princess Y/N is with child.

This update on his wife’s condition did not come through her, rather in passing during a visit to the silk streets. Aegon acts as if he is in the know, of course he knew, Y/N is his wife. The number of cups he consumes that night is more than he’s indulged in since the start of their union.

And when he returns that night, to crawl into Y/N’s bed, she welcomes him there. “You are in quite a state, my Prince.”

“You did not tell me.” He slurs the words out from where his head rests, cradled against her bosom.

“You were not here.” Y/N strokes a patient hand over his hair.

————————————————————————

Y/N grows quickly and the Maesters confirm that she is with more than one child. Likely no more than two, though they cannot say with certainty.

She is sick often, tired and moody, though she tries, Gods know how hard she tries.

“This is what you wanted, is it not?” Aegon asks, staring up at her over the tiny swell of her womb.

“This is what I wanted,” Y/N assures him.

Why then are you so unhappy?

In Aegon’s defense, he has no concept of what a marriage should be. Certainly no concept of how to properly love someone the way he loves his sweet wife.

“And now she draws away from my touch.” He cries into his cup. Entirely intoxicated as he lounges, nude in the lavish private room of the pleasure house. The women there please him greatly, repeatedly. Only nothing compares to the feeling of her.

“Oh, my Prince.” His lady of the night frowns. “Perhaps your wife is at war with herself.”

“In what way?” Aegon rolls onto his side to face the pretty blonde in which he attempts to drown his sorrow.

“She is with child. Tis not an easy task. The Princess might need a little…more from you in these times.”

“A gift!” Aegon suggests, “she might like a gift.”

“She might.” The woman agrees.

“Would you help me find something? Of course, something for you as well. For your troubles.” Aegon springs from the mattress, making for his clothes.

“You are half my troubles, your majesty.” There is no heat behind her words. “The sooner I return you to your bride, the sooner I can retire.”

————————————————————————-

Aegon presents Y/N with a necklace, the following night before supper. Nestled safely in a satin case.

“It’s beautiful.” Y/N breathes, tracing the chain with her finger.

“Would you like to wear it?” He cannot tell by the look on her face.

“Help me with the clasp?”

“Turn around, my love.” My dearest love. Aegon takes the necklace in hand. Waiting as she turns, then securing the gem in place.

“How does it look?” Y/N smiles, facing her husband as she strokes her thumb over the stone.

Don’t you know you hold the moon and stars in your eyes? “Perfect.” You are perfect.

She kisses him then, softly, sweetly on the mouth. “Thank you, Aegon. I love it.” I love you.

They join the rest of their family for dinner. Alicent taking note of her daughter-in-law’s jewelry. The way Aegon’s hand does not leave the tiny swell of her belly. They are in love. Head over heels, madly in love. So long as they are, only good will come of their union.

As Y/N grows, not much seems to fit her. Even her mother’s maternity dresses leave little breathing room and she is only two thirds through her term.

She cries often, so often that Aegon’s heart breaks with it. The heaviness of her sorrow. Though such is her duty and she does love the babes, more than she can say.

“This will be over soon, love. Our sweet babes will be in your arms.” Aegon soothes, holding her close, stroking dark hair with an affection learned just for her.

Y/N nods, sniffling as she clings to him. She is always hot or hungry or tired. So terribly tired.

“Tell me, sweet girl, what should you like to name our little dragons?” He wonders, stroking her belly to feel the tiny kicks there.

————————————————————————-

Y/N does not understand how or why Aegon is still attracted to her in this state. Not when he has prettier whores to bury his cock in. Even so, Y/N allows him to kiss and lick at her greedy little cunt anytime it pleases him.

“My only love,” he murmurs against her inner thigh. “My dearest love.”

And when he fucks her, so soft and sweet; Y/N has no choice but to believe that he loves her as much as he claims.

When they are finished, he breathes in deeply, his ever furrowed brows lulled to submission. Almost as if he were relieved.

“I do love you, Aegon.” Y/N whispers, “I love you with all my heart.”

————————————————————————

They spend days together strolling the garden, sharing secrets and stealing kisses.

At supper Aegon demands a cushion for his sweet love. The weight of their babes, push down on her back and hips. Y/N is terribly uncomfortable, even when she does not speak it, Aegon sees. Everyone sees.

“Make quick work of your food, darling.” Rhaenyra encourages, “so that you might retire early.”

Alicent bites her tongue. Though it is the King’s place to excuse the Princess and not Rhaenyra, she does not wish for Y/N to suffer.

Once Y/N and Aegon are finished, the Prince helps her to stand and when she does…

“What is it?” Aegon fusses about her, desperate to understand why all the blood has drained from her face.

“M-my waters.”

Everything moves out of time. Y/N is whisked away. Aegon is forbade from seeing her as she births their children. He remains close to the door of her chambers, wishing to hold her more than anything. To bring even an ounce of comfort to his wife, but it would be improper. And they must be respectful of tradition.

When the heart wrenching sound of Y/N’s cries begins to quiet, Aegon is informed that he has two daughters. Though his wife has yet to deliver the afterbirth, he forces himself to her side. Despite his mother’s warning.

The babes are perfect, being bathed softly by Y/N’s maid. The Maester working between her trembling knees.

“Y/N,” Aegon cups her cheek.

“Aegon.” She slurs, drunk on milk of the poppy, administered to stitch up where she’d torn.

“You did remarkably.” He kisses her sweat damp forehead.

“A son will be next,” Alicent assures her. They will have to try again.

If looks could kill, Alicent would have fallen over dead at the daggers Rhaenyra shoots her direction. Stroking her daughter’s dark hair affectionately.

Aegon waves his mother way. “Rest now, my dearest love.”

Moments later, when Y/N is long asleep, Aegon holds his daughters for the first time. One in each arm and neither of them cry. He does. Overcome with love for the tiny babes. When they do begin to fuss, Aegon hushes them. “Papa’s got you,” he rocks lightly, switching from foot to foot. “Papa’s here.”

He will never leave or shove them aside, never trade them for a thing in this world. He will be better than his own father. He will spend the rest of his life doting upon them and even still, they will never know how dearly they are loved.

[so-mordor-itis]

Because this mf won't leave my mind, have this:

--

"If you're attempting to trick me into believing you're asleep," drawls Astarion to your dismay, "it's failing poorly."

You don't have to open your eyes to know the look on the vampire's face. Smug. His ego is rising every passing second. The idea makes the skin under your eyelid twitch.

You weren't attempting anything. The gods' above know you were actually trying to sleep. However, the terrain beneath your spine argued otherwise. Like the man who spoke above you, you were a city dweller. Rocky mountains, deep meadows, bellowing caves crawling with a different variety of creatures, and other parts of this area aren't in your realm of comfort. You are getting used to it just as much as he is.

"As much as I enjoy our little spouts of banter, Astarion," you say, annoyance lacing your tone--you truly hope to make it as obvious as you can--"I would rather sleep."

His smirk is still there. You can feel it, and it annoys you that some part of you finds it endearing.

You hear footsteps approach before pausing. "Sometimes I wonder how you've managed so far. You are aware of the smoother patches of land just next to your feet?"

You will kill him one of these days. You swear it.

"Let me relish in my misery."

He snorts. "Don't you partake in it everyday?"

"Piss off."

"Are you sure you want that? Isn't my lovely voice luring you into slumber?"

"It's giving me a headache."

"You wound me."

"Good. Maybe I'll say it more often." You finally allow one eye to open. You observe his form, the way it is towering over where you currently lie. Despite his smirk, there's a small level of concern in those deep ruby eyes.

"I was simply suggesting you should shuffle over a little so your back won't hurt in the morning, but you are incredibly stubborn."

"I'll show you stubborn."

"Oh?"

You want to regret your innuendo, but you don't.

[ma1dita]

pushover

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: usually you’re the one stitching Luke up but the one time he gets to do it for you, he knows you’re milking it. no trouble!verse tags, can be standalone -> she’s an ACTRESS okay? who tf wouldn’t want luke to kiss a booboo; this was a forgotten draft for my partners in crime series feel free to read

wc: 1.2k

“OWWWW!”

The sun shines again on Camp Half-Blood peeking through Luke’s dark curls as he towers over you, laughing from his position above. Your knee is scraped after cushioning your fall, or perhaps your attack, after Luke thought it’d be funny to push you again as he walked past.

Well, today’s been kind of boring, so might as well make the most of it right? 

As a daughter of Dionysus, you do love to put on a good show.

There’s a glimmer of mischief in your eye as you do your best to convince him that he’s maimed you but as his eyes fall to the slightly aggravated skin, Luke sighs at the way you look like a kicked puppy, lower lip jutting out as you squint up at him.

“Stop being so overdramatic. It wasn’t that serious.”

“YOU SHOVED ME INTO A BUSH!” 

The howl that leaves your throat catches the attention of other campers, who are familiar with your dramatics and your penchant for picking a fight with the son of Hermes. Luke sighs and runs his hands through his hair, groaning in embarrassment. 

Gods forbid he look like the bad guy.

“Seriously, trouble— you're acting like I pushed you off a cliff,” he grumbles finally crouching down to reach for your leg to check how serious it is. 

It’s not.

“You're a barbarian. Just because you think it's funny to push me around doesn't mean it actually is! Luke.... I can't walk! It feels like my bone is coming through. And I have so much work to do today, and now I'm gonna have to walk super slow…” you groan, still on the ground. Luke rolls his eyes and once he's checked the injury (the whole menacing palm-sized scrape) his expression softens the tiniest bit. He’s still kinda pissed off at you for being a drama queen though.

“Alright, it's not life-threatening so you're going to be fine. Look, I can carry you if I have to.”

Batting his hand away you roll your eyes, “Like I'd let you. You'd probably toss me into the lake again.” 

Luke smirks, “Probably, but I swear to the gods that I wouldn't do anything to maim you. Not on purpose at least.” It’s almost criminal how easy it is to get on your nerves—he thinks you’ve finally shut your trap until he watches you fake crawl away to get a reaction out of him. Quite frankly, it’s embarrassing to everyone watching so he scoops you into his arms like you weigh nothing. Luke chuckles softly, wrapping his arms tightly around your squirming frame so you won't fall as he begins walking.

“So difficult. I swear…”

“Me? Never!” you groan, flopping in his arms like a dead body. Your dead weight makes his arms strain a little but his muscles are fun to look at from any angle, so… 

You miss it when he starts speaking again, “You're too much, you know that?” A smirk grows upon your face, “And you can't get enough. The infirmary is the other way, Castellan....” Luke huffs as he turns 180 towards the infirmary, sighing softly at the way you are sprawled in his arms. But he keeps quiet because he knows how to pick and choose his battles. Something about the realization that he’d only do this for you makes him bite his lip in thought. But you think he’s trying to not laugh at you.

“What? You maim me and then you make fun of me? Haven't you done enough?” The words slip by as you peek at him through one open eye, his cheeks flushed and rosy. Hopefully, his brawn won’t expire on the short trek to the infirmary.

“You're lucky I don't drop you right now,” Luke jostles you with a lopsided grin he can’t hide anymore and it steadily gets bigger at the sound of your surprise.

“Don't you DARE, Luke Castellan!” 

Grabbing onto his mop of curls, the boy winces as his nose brushes against your wrist, and the shockwaves it sends through your system are enough to send you reeling. Maybe it’s the way you almost sway with each step he takes, smooth and steady like a sailboat even when he’s carrying you like this.

He ends up having to carry you inside the infirmary and the Apollo kids on shift stop and stare at their two best counselors in the doorway. Luke tries to ignore them, setting you down on an empty cot and getting the medical supplies he needs to treat your wound. He looks at you propped on the bed like a little princess, cross-legged and fluttering eyelashes waiting for him to clean you up. It's not serious enough for ambrosia, he thinks, so he grabs an alcohol wipe instead.

Luke looks like he's trying his hardest not to smirk as he grabs your leg and begins carefully cleaning the scrape.

“Ow! Gentle! When I patch you up after you spar I don't do it maliciously!”

“I am being gentle, stop wriggling!” Luke grits his teeth as he continues to wipe the drying blood away. He's trying to be careful, but he's clearly irritated that you're not making this easy for him.

Tossing your knee over his lap and getting closer, suddenly you go quiet at the proximity. There’s something intimate about being tended to so delicately in a room filled with people. A quiet in the chaos reserved for only the two of you.

“So what, you think I'm too good for ambrosia? Sending me off to heal like a mortal— what type of nurse are you?”

“You drunk on ambrosia for a scrape would definitely make your dad thrilled and have the both of us cleaning the stables for the rest of the week,” Luke lets out a brief snicker as he meets your gaze, rolling your eyes as you lean against the wall. His hand unconsciously rubs circles into the skin above your knee, featherlight yet firm at the same time. You try to ignore the goosebumps that rise in its wake.

Luke doesn't say anything about it while he continues to look at you. He realizes that you look quite pretty even with windswept hair and dirt on your cheek, but he can't let you see that he's noticed. Something shifts in the air of the infirmary, more overpowering than the smell of antiseptic and it bubbles in both of your chests, overflowing and seeping into the small space between you.

Not bad for a boring day, you suppose. You make him piggyback you for the rest of the day in an attempt to guilt-trip him. But the huge smile on his face has all of your campers thinking otherwise.

—

The next day, he sees you walking perfectly fine. In fact, with the way you’re rushing to scold a Hephaestus kid for almost setting the armory on fire, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you move that fast in your life.

Warmth settles on your cheeks as your eyes dart between the kid you’re yelling at and Luke’s narrowing eyes from afar, and you can’t quite tell if the rush of emotions is from what you’re doing versus who you’re really looking at.

Maybe the next time he pushes you around he’ll find out.

[opennwindows]

If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.