#;answered: isaac;

[animentality]

sometimes i read stories about the creepy things astarion fangirls have subjected neil newbon to, despite him asking them like, outright to stop sexualizing him as a person just bc he voices astarion, and i shudder because some of y'all should have been raised catholic like i was.

then maybe you'd know some fucking shame.

edit: I must clarify this is a joke because no one should be raised Catholic. but some of y'all do need to be punished. biblically.

[ivystoryweaver]

Hello amazing writer-person.

May I request the following…

"i cannot stand you, and yet i also cannot stand to be away from you."

… with our moody baby Marc Spector 🌙

(Congrats on the 500, you rock) 🎉

TY & ILY! 💜 (not me finally finishing my oldest request)

Luminous white orbs fixed on you as he cinched you close to his side. "It's a full moon. Try not to scream...at least not until I get your pants off."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Content: f!reader, action, violence, smut, Marc is a cheeky bastard because let him have fun sometimes

Word Count: 1.5k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Give me your hand." Moon Knight's white, bandaged arm reached for yours, but your stubbornness alone stopped you as you wrenched yourself free of his grasp.

"I don't need you to hold my hand," you told him, peering over the building's edge to the street below, several stories down. "I'm gonna jump."

"The hell you are," he protested, yanking on your arm. "Hold on to me. I'll get you down."

Although he wasn't tall for a superhero, he was strong enough to make a point.

"You can't even fly. How are you supposedly going to 'get me down'?"

Luminous white orbs fixed on you as he cinched you close to his side. "It's a full moon. Try not to scream...at least not until I get your pants off."

You couldn't see his face but you were certain he was smirking.

He leapt over the side of the building, dragging you with him. Despite how much you wanted to resist his help, you couldn't fly, and you didn't want to die, so you held on tightly, tucking yourself into him - arms wound around him trustingly and your face pressed into the gauzey fabric covering his throat.

He smelled like ancient secrets and sun drenched sands. Warm and woody, enticing your eyes closed as you entrusted your life to his embrace.

The wind in his cape, the power of the full moon and his years of experience helped him slow your shared descent through the night sky. Hitting the pavement with an inconsequential thud, you barely had time to get your footing before he grabbed your hand again. "Let's go."

"I think I can take it from here, Lunar Legionnaire." You mockingly tossed out one of his recent media nicknames, wrenching your hand away from his, but following his lead to an abandoned warehouse.

"In here," he directed. "Those things are still following us. They have our scent."

"Then we better not stay here," you reasoned. "Unless the great Fist of Khonshu needs to catch his breath?"

"Hilarious." White eyes narrowed into judgmental slits. "You're the one panting, sweetheart." He moved in closer. "Or were you that excited to be close to me?"

Before you could smart off, you heard a metallic rattle and then a growl. Jackals. Supernatural, invisible jackals.

But he could see them.

"Get behind me," he ordered.

Which of course you did not, shouldering right past him. "Thanks for the ride down, but I work alone."

He groaned, squeezing his wrapped hands into fists. After bouncing on his toes for a moment, he reluctantly followed. "Got your six."

His gaze fell to the sway of your leather clad hips, down over your curves.

"That's an interesting way of letting me know you're staring at my ass."

"That's an interesting way of pretending we haven't worked four missions together."

"Look who's counting," you teased.

"Counting on this being the last one, maybe. You have a death wish or something. I'm always saving your - "

Moon Knight didn't even finish his sentence before you whirled around and leapt in his direction, firing your wrist rockets into the jackal right behind him. He ducked just in time.

And that sound drew the rest of them.

"Nice work," he groaned, racing past you, breaking into a sprint as he called back over the swish of his cape, "It's gonna be a long night."

“Hey, you’re the one following me.”

The two of you spent the next annoying half hour eliminating invisible foes, working in tandem, despite you both maintaining your loner status, at least mentally.

You finally ducked into an alley, grateful for a breather.

"Are there any more of them?" You gasped, gripping your knees as you doubled over, winded from your exertion.

"Not that I see," Moon Knight answered, giving you a once over. He didn't get as tired as you, but then again, you didn't have superpowers. It felt kind of endearing to see you not perfectly put together.

"You know, you look good like this," he commented, moving into your personal space. "Sweating. Panting. I feel like I've seen it somewhere."

He tapped his gloved finger on his masked chin, pretending to think. "Was it the last time I saved your ass?"

As badly as you wanted to retort, you were still a bit out of breath.

"Oh I remember," he went on, yanking a crescent dagger from the center of his chest. He backed you up against the wall, pinning you in place with his hips. "It was the last time you were underneath me...in Dubai."

"Bullshit. I was on top," you panted, eyes fixed on his weapon, feeling wetness pool between your legs as he pressed his obvious erection against your core. "What's that for?"

He traced the pointed dagger's edge over your bottom lip before flicking his wrist, expertly cutting through the thick fabric of your mask. Before he could pull it free and reveal your face, you struggled against him as your hand darted up to keep your mask in place.

"What the hell?" You snapped, even though you physically responded eagerly to the friction between your bodies. "No faces. That was your rule."

"Don't you ever break the rules?" He challenged, stashing his dagger and gripping your hips. Thrusting against you with a seductive pulse, he dragged you back and forth over his straining length.

"Show me yours first," you ordered, still holding your mask in place with one hand. Strangely enough, this man had been inside you twice, but you had yet to lay eyes on who he really was.

Without hesitation, he complied. His gauzey mask disappeared, revealing a man far more handsome than you expected. Dark, soulful eyes peered into yours, such a beautiful contrast to the haunting white glow.

You stared as his gaze flickered down to your parted lips.

"That bad, huh?" He half joked, quickly summoning the supernatural fabric to cover his angular features once more.

You swallowed thickly, the thought of sinking your fingers into his dark curls convincing you to slowly lower your mask, pulling it free from your face and hair.

Tilting his head, as if studying you, Moon Knight shook his head playfully. "The magic is gone."

You slugged him on the arm as he chuckled, amused with himself.

"I can't stand you."

His mask disappeared again, instantly. "I can't stand to be away from you."

His lips crashed into yours with unrestrained fervor, the force of it taking what little breath you'd regained.

You sighed into his mouth as his tongue slid over yours. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you twisted your way through his curls, which were every bit as gorgeous and soft as you expected.

"Can you make a useful part of this damn suit disappear?" You huffed, tearing your mouth from his.

Yanking at the leather of your pants, he worked you free, hoisting your thick thighs around his waist. Then, as you were anticipating, just enough of his suit vanished so that he could push his heavy, pulsing length up inside you.

"Been waiting for this all night."

“That’s an interesting way of saying you’re obsessed with me.” Despite your biting commentary, you sank against him in relief, your head thumping against the brick wall behind you, its rough surface scraping against the curve of your ass. But you didn't care. He was your drug and you were getting your fix.

"Look at me," he lowly commanded, gripping the nape of your neck and staring possessively into your eyes. Heavy, deep thrusts sent your body bucking against his. "Like that?"

"Yes, right there. Feels good."

"Thought you worked alone, sweetheart." His lips curled as your eyes flashed with defiance. "You think you can get yourself off like this?"

You shuddered, your velvet walls fluttering, clenching at the sound of his infuriating voice.

"Nah...I think we work better together.”

"Just...shut up. Keep doing that. Faster."

He went slower. But deeper, hitting something devastating within you.

"Saving your ass from jackals is worth the look on your face when you come for me."

And as if his voice alone could control your body, you came undone, your body betraying your stubborn mind, agreeing with him. And, as predicted, you might have screamed a little.

The glint in his eye didn't last long as you shuddered around him, gripping him so deliciously that he actually moaned. It sounded so good coming out of his plush lips. His clenched, corded neck tensed and bobbed as sweat dripped from a singular curl.

The sight of him losing control because of you was worth a bout with jackals and all the danger that came with it.

His hips stuttered as he tried to pull out of you, but you clamped your thighs around him and held him captive. "Stay right here."

The longer you gazed at him, the more you wanted to never see that stupid white mummy mask cover his face, ever again.

Hot breath fell on your ear as he took a minute to come back to himself.

Easing back, he touched his forehead to yours - a gentle contrast to the scandalous public encounter you'd shared.

"I'm Marc."

You felt lighter somehow, sharing a laugh with him before he kissed you deeply.

"Nice to meet you."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Marc Spector-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[female-hysterics]

What do you think the Moonboys biggest kinks are? I mean, they haven't told you about it because they're scared you'll see them differently kind of kinks

Ohh secret dirty kinks 🥴👌

Steven probably has a Dominant kink. Meaning this sweet kind beautiful man wants to utterly own you. He wants to take all his frustrations out on you, wants you wailing on his cock as he drills into you, and he wants you to scream his name until your voice is nothing more than a horse whisper as he pins your thighs open wide and eats you out for hours. He's often seen as weak by others and I think this has fueled an urge to prove he's anything but, and he thinks you'll look absolutely ravishing with his hand around your neck while he fucks your throat.

Marc I think would be into having people watch him fuck you. Would love to have people see how good you beg for his tongue or fingers, how pretty you sound crying on his cock, and the idea that they can look but can't touch will drive him feral. He wants to show everybody that you are his and that he is the only one that can make you feel this way.

Jake would want you to wear pretty collars and be his personal sex toy. He gets hot under the collar when you get all pliant and soft, allowing him to move you any way he wants, and having you at his mercy so completely trusting gets him hard in an instant. Would love to spend the whole day just taking you over and over again while you stay so soft and sweet against him. You wearing a collar would be a reminder to you, and himself, that you are his.

[sundrop-writes]

would you be willing to do a follow up to the teen wolf pregnancy hcs? something with the characters interacting with their kid - can be as a baby or older - just them being parents and adjusting to being young parents.

i love your writing 💗💗💗

Fyi, I was not even planning on working on requests tonight, but this caught my attention so much and gave me such a good idea that I had to do it. I decided to do it with the same characters from the first part, but if you want to see this prompt with other characters, then I would do the 'how they react to finding out that you're pregnant' part first with different characters

My requests for Teen Wolf are OPEN, but please read my Rules before sending in a request.

Part One - How would they react to finding out that you're pregnant with their baby?

How would the pack act as parents?

Included: Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, and Derek Hale.

Warnings: fem reader - uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is the one who gave birth to the baby, as in the previous part); Stiles's part is extremely self indulgent and something I have been thinking about since I wrote the last part so bear with me; mentions of breastfeeding, giving birth, teething, and other parenting/baby topics; the baby is a different age and has a different name in each section just for funsies; mention of Lydia and reader's baby having red hair - but I did this to drive home the baby's genetic relation to Lydia and I don't think it has to specify the reader's race (someone with darker skin can still have naturally red hair); Lydia calls the reader 'Mama'; mention of the reader being a werewolf in Derek's part because there is a weird continuity in these reactions (and I should write a full fic about Derek and this reader character cause I am slowly becoming addicted to their story, ngl); I believe that's finally it.

Stiles was panicking. He was officially the worst parent ever - everything his dad said was right. He wasn't ready for this, nobody should be a teen parent, he was a failure. God, his whole life was crumbling around him...

You were out of town because your sister was getting married. You had been incredibly hesitant to leave the baby - sweet, adorable, nine-month-old Lila Stilinski - but Stiles had insisted that you go on a weekend getaway to your sister's bachelorette party. You deserved it. You had spent nine whole months growing his baby and then you had given birth to her (a bloody, messy affair that made him faint - to nobody's surprise), and you had spent the last nine months nursing her and getting your degree from home after you had fought through your pregnancy taking double courses to graduate high school early. You were a gem, a beautiful, shining gem of a woman and a mother, and somehow - while you were off getting your much needed rest and having fun - Stiles had lost your baby.

His baby - his baby that he loved very, very much.

He had woken up that morning, late, having forgotten to set the alarm, and rushed around the apartment like a chicken with his head cut off rushing to get Lila ready for day care and himself ready for school, and he dropped her off as usual, with a smile and kiss on her big beautiful forehead. And when he went to pick her up that afternoon - she was gone. The day care worker couldn't give him any other news than the fact that she had been 'signed out already', and it left Stiles panicking, thinking about that cult that sacrifices babies every single day.

In his rush that morning, he had forgotten to charge his phone, so he couldn't get his dad on the line - and he was currently running at top, lung-crushing speed toward the police station, running past the deputy on duty at the front desk, who simply shrugged and buzzed him in when she saw his bright red face and his clear desperation.

"Dad, D-dad, you have to-!" He was going to ask his father to put out an amber alert, to call every single one of his deputies back to get them looking, but when his father turned around - that sweet girl with the bright purple bow in her hair was in his arms.

Then, Stiles shifted on a dime from panic to anger.

"Dad, what the hell?" He barked out, struggling to sound as pissed off as he was while still trying to catch his breath.

"What?" The Sheriff shrugged, kissing his granddaughter on the forehead before cooing brightly at her, smiling at her with all the brightness in the world, paying Stiles absolutely no mind.

"You took her out of day care without telling me first?" Stiles gaped, absolutely angered that his father had let him believe for even a moment that his girl was missing.

He knew it was a cruel irony - a blunt kind of karma. All the times he had come home late, all the nights he had snuck out believing that his dad was simply being too hard on him for giving him such an early curfew. Now, in a single crashing moment, he instantly understood why his father had worried so much - why he was so angry every single time Stiles was out of his sight, especially when there was danger around.

"Your phone was off." Noah shrugged, rocking Lila back and forth in his arms, giving her another kiss on the forehead as he began to hum the tune of a lullaby under his breath. "I got bored on my lunch break, and I wanted to see my baby, so what?"

It was the usual for him - any time he was within ten feet of her, she didn't have a moment in your arms or Stiles's. On the day she had been born, he had brought a giant gift basket to the hospital, grumbling under his breath about how he still thought it was 'irresponsible' of Stiles, but demanding to see 'his baby'.

He had burst into tears upon seeing Lila for the first time, and was deeply aggressive about who was allowed to visit and for how long. When she came home, he stood watch over her crib with his gun in hand for multiple days before he finally gave up and went to sleep (and according to you, he admitted quietly that he had done the same thing for Stiles when he first came home from the hospital).

"My phone died." Stiles stressed. "You could have left a note for me at the school or something. You gave me a freakin' heart attack."

"Be more responsible and charge it next time." The Sheriff grinned at him.

"Just - don't kidnap my daughter again!" Stiles snapped. "She is my daughter-" He argued, taking a possessive, protective stance.

"Yeah, well I made you, so I have certain rights when it comes to this little sweet girl." His father said, trailing off into a cooing baby voice as he began fawning over Lila once again. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Besides, ever since the three of you moved out, I hardly get to see my babygirl anymore."

Stiles felt a twinge of guilt at this, but wanted to argue. The three of you needed your own space, and you had moved into an apartment that was less than twenty minutes away from his father's house. He still saw Lila at least once every single day of the week, unless he was busy working.

"Dad-"

"Besides, it's not kidnapping if I'm the Sheriff."

"It is so kidnapping! It's kidnapping if I report you."

"Is it still considered an abortion if I terminate you now?" His father glared at him.

Stiles let out a huff.

Isaac was tired. He knew that being a parent was going to be tiring, but in the six months since baby Leon had been born, this was his first full night alone with his son. His son who was teething, crying incredibly loudly, and in pain because of his little teeth coming in. He wasn't nearly as upset about the fact that he hadn't slept as he was about the fact that his son was in pain and he could do little about it.

He had considered calling you a few times throughout the night when Leon was letting out particularly harrowing cries and Isaac was on the verge of tears himself (especially considering with his heightened werewolf senses, the pain of those cries seemed to pierce through him even more) - but he had agreed to take care of Leon by himself to get him out of the house that you and your mother shared because you had been studying for the SATs and you needed sleep the night before your big exam. So as much as it pained him, he endured alone and ended up crying with his son while he sucked on a frozen teething toy with tears still running down his chubby cheeks.

The sun had come up a while ago and Leon had just fallen asleep, his portable crib set up in the middle of the loft so that Isaac could watch over him - his hair messy and his eyes bloodshot red as he stood at the counter, chugging down a cup of black coffee, trying his hardest to stay away until after your exam was over so that you could take Leon and he could have a nap.

He was not at all pleased when the door creaked open, seeming like the loudest thing ever - alerting him to the presence of Boyd entering the apartment.

"Hey, man-" Boyd greeted him in a usual bright tone, and Isaac cut him off with an abrupt hush. He put a finger to his lips and then motioned to the crib, and Boyd peeked over, nodding once he saw the baby. "You're on Daddy duty again?"

"It's not like it's a hobby or something," Isaac told him tiredly in a hushed tone. "I am a father now." Even with the tense whispering and the tired droop of his shoulders, there was a certain sense of pride in the way he said this.

"Well you-"

Isaac shushed him again, as Boyd speaking in his usual tone was far too loud for Isaac's liking.

"You know, he's gonna have to get adjusted to noise sooner or later." Derek piped up from his place on the couch, where Isaac had convinced him to sit and read a book until Leon had settled to sleep.

"Shh!" Isaac tried to hush Derek into silence, but he glared at Isaac and kept talking at his usual volume.

"Babies born into pack families are brought up co-sleeping, so they sleep through the noise of a dozen family members-"

Isaac crossed the room and put a hand against Derek's mouth, forcing him quiet this time.

"I don't care." Isaac insisted. "Nobody is going to wake up my son now that he is asleep."

"Stop touching me." Derek said, muffled against Isaac's hand.

Isaac backed off, and before Derek could speak up again, Leon woke with a high pitched wail.

"You guys have fun with that." Boyd said, taking this as his queue to leave.

Lydia was overjoyed. Telling her parents about everything had been nothing short of a confusing nightmare, and after a lot of convincing from Melissa and Noah and a lot of questions without a lot of answers, they had both still been sceptical right up until you had given birth.

The moment they had laid eyes on a sweet newborn baby girl with bright red hair - they were convinced that against all odds, you and Lydia had made a baby together.

That was an entire year ago - and now, Lydia was having the utter pleasure of planning her beautiful Luna Harmony Martin's first birthday party. She was so perfectly in her element - picking out decorations, designing an utterly epic and fabulous birthday cake (including a separate, smaller smash cake that only her daughter would get to touch, because it was only the best for Luna), planning entertainment - a professional princess performer and some magicians (no clowns - Luna didn't need those kind of memories implanted in her psyche this early on), and the best part: picking out cute little dresses for the birthday girl to wear.

Much like her mother, she was a fashion icon, and she would likely need multiple outfit changes for her party - not just with the fact that she would get covered in cake or her own spit-up, but because a proper birthday girl should always be photographed in more than one ensemble.

You weren't surprised when Lydia came home with two large armfuls of shopping bags. You wanted to protest, to tell her that a one-year-old didn't need that many clothes that she wasn't even going to wear, but you knew that Lydia's parents weren't going to take away her credit card anytime soon (and when it came to spoiling the baby, they were even worse) and you also knew that this was one of her ways of showing your daughter love.

So when she came to sit on the cushy foam playmat with you and Luna, dropping the many shopping bags on the cough behind the two of you, you simply let it happen.

"Hello my sweet girl," Lydia said, greeting your daughter in a sweet voice as she kissed her chubby cheeks and pulled her into her lap. "And hello to you, Mama."

Mama. The nickname still made your stomach churn with heat - something that Lydia had gotten into calling you more lately after some rant about how Luna's 'speech centre' was 'rapidly developing' and she wanted to influence what the baby would call you.

You couldn't help but to grin as you kissed her too.

"I see you've been shopping." You said, motioning toward the bags.

"A bit." Lydia shrugged. "After I booked the carousel-"

"A carousel?" You questioned. "Lydia, she's a year old. She can't even ride carnival rides - she's not even going to remember any of this."

"It's for the photos. Obviously." Lydia sighed in return, rolling her eyes at you. "The theme of the party is Cotton Candy Princess, what kind of idiot would I be if I didn't include at least one classic carnival ride in my photos?"

"At this rate, she's gonna want a golden pony by the time she's five."

"Then she'll get one." Lydia cooed at Luna, kissing her cheeks again, smearing pink lipstick on her.

You couldn't help but to smile - you knew that this was Lydia's way of showing your daughter that to her, she was the most important little girl in the world.

Derek was annoyed - not with his son, with you.

Since the moment he had found out that you were pregnant, Derek loved his son more than anything in the world. He loved you just as much, he had right from the moment he had slashed Peter's throat and then turned you where you were dying, bleeding out, and used his newfound Alpha powers to turn you in order to save your life. Because that was the moment he knew he would risk anything and everything in order to keep you alive.

He loved you very much, but he was still annoyed with you.

You were determined not to let Derek sleep with his son - a tradition as old as pack life itself, now being marred by you shoving articles in Derek's face about how co-sleeping was 'dangerous' and how the baby should have his own crib. A baby of only three months old should not be damned to isolation. It made Derek's heart ache just thinking about it. He was used to the comfort of your body - he was used to the sync of your heartbeat, the sound of his voice and Derek's constantly nearby. He shouldn't be off in the corner by himself. You had made Derek feel like some criminal, sneaking out of bed at one in the morning to pluck his son out of that damned crib in order to spend some time with him.

And now, Alexander was sleeping peacefully on his bare chest, skin to skin as nature intended, feeling the peace of his father's heartbeat as Derek dozed into a gentle sleep himself on the sofa himself. He was - until he heard the distinct squeak of the bed springs on your side, a distinct huff from you as you got out of bed.

"Derek," You sighed when you saw what he had done, crossing your arms over your chest - it was an entirely appealing sight; the incredibly small baby perched in the middle of his bare chest, so tiny against Derek's large, muscled frame. But it did make you worry - Alexander wasn't secured in any way - he could fall, he could roll off. Even though Derek was an incredibly capable, loving parent, even in the haze of sleep, he could roll over and crush the baby.

It scared you.

"What - are you gonna take him from me?" He glared at you, deep betrayal in his voice. It was clear that the only thing keeping him from raising his voice further was the restraint not to yell so close to the baby's ear. "Do you honestly think that I would hurt my son?"

You held back tears, hating how much the insinuation clearly pained Derek.

"Never." You told him, your own tears choking your throat. "Derek, I know that you would never hurt him intentionally. But-"

"Exactly." He replied, cutting you off. "And there is nothing that will harm him. I am not going to let it happen."

You sighed, putting a hand to your forehead in frustration.

Derek shook his head, sitting up, putting a hand against Alexander's diapered bum to support him - able to hold nearly the entirety of his tiny body with one hand.

"Didn't you notice that all of those articles you read are written by humans?" He pointed out. "This is something that my family has done for generations. Our senses are honed for stuff like this. The moment that a baby is born, we sleep differently. Haven't you noticed?"

You had noticed - you felt like you had been sleeping with only half your brain, like a shark. You thought it was something your mother had warned you about, how you would never get a full night's rest again after having a baby. But it felt different. You did wake up rested, but you didn't dream anymore. You felt conscious nearly the entire time you were asleep - hyper aware of everything, your body responsive to every single coo, every little noise the baby made. You became hyper aware of the rhythm of his heartbeat while you slept, often using it as a white noise machine while you laid there.

"Yeah." You admitted - Derek gave you a subtle smug grin, and nodded.

"I'm not going to hurt him, not even by accident - because I can't." Derek told you firmly. "I will wake up the minute he cries, and I won't shift in my sleep. And this is healthy for us. Our heartbeats will sync up and this will help him sleep better. Please, just trust me on this."

Derek rarely pleaded with you about things, rather than outright telling you - so you knew that this mattered to him greatly.

"Yes. I trust you." You told him. "Come back to bed?" You posed. "All of us in the same bed."

He smiled, and leaned in to kiss you before he got up off the couch, bringing your son with him.

(When you woke up the next morning, the crib was smashed to pieces, and Derek - who was in the kitchen making breakfast with Alexander still pressed to one shoulder - claimed that he had no idea how it happened.)

...

Teen Wolf Masterlist

[nowritingonthewall]

In all this love for Elvira, let us not forget that precious photo that she shared of Oscar and Eugene sleeping in her lap! That says everything you need to know about their relationship, that one and the photo of her kissing the side of his head while he has his eyes closed in absolute bliss. That man loves that woman and that woman loves that man. ❤️

Hello Nonnie,

thank you for brightening our day with your Elvira and Oscar love 💜🥰

They really are the cutest, aren't they 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[mymultifandomhell]

✋

[coolpointsetta]

jamie: do we still have to get up at 4am to train?

roy, down on one knee (which took him a few minutes to do), literally proposing: is that really what you’re worried about right now?

[eyelessfaces]

Omg omg

Comparing hand sizes prompt with HMU!Poe pretty please ❤️❤️🥰

heat me up masterlist

mmh warning for innuendos I'm sorry this was supposed to be cute but we're talking about hands here I couldn't help myself

—

Poe’s need to be constantly touching you was something you had to learn to get used to when you started dating him – it was not, in the slightest, bothering you; it was comforting to have his hands on you at almost any occasion, whether it was him full on hugging you or just a hand casually resting on you. 

It was interesting to see, though. 

The way his touch would change based on how he or you would feel, on the situation, on the place you were at. 

Here, in the privacy of your small apartment, laying over your unfolded sofa bed and buried under a pile of blankets, he’s holding you close to him, your body nestled against his as his arm wraps around you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns onto your shoulder as his gaze is focused on the television.

Your own gaze is focused on his other hand, casually resting over his stomach. You slide your fingers under, and he instinctively just gently squeezes your hand while your thumb brushes over his knuckles. 

“How are your hands so soft?” you ask, more of a remark than truly a question, the tip of your finger running along the bumps of his bones. You had never really noticed how smooth they somehow were despite his handy work.

“Well, you know we wear gloves, right?” he counters as you inspect the calluses on his fingertips.

“I know. But you still use your hands more than the average person”

“Yeah right I do,” he grins, his voice tinged with suggestiveness. You slap his hand playfully, drawing a laugh out of him, his fingers lacing between yours. “Wait, look.” he pulls his hand away. “Press my hand against yours”

Your hands join, palm pressed against his and fingers following along his, fitting one anothers. The size difference is not that obvious, Poe's fingertips just slightly topping yours.

“They’re not so different” he declares, observing both sides of your paired hands to compare.

“Your fingers are longer and slightly thicker though” you say. “I would know about that,” you grin mischievously, looking up at him. 

He chuckles, folding your hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “Wanna make sure?”

[nat-20s]

Honestly cannot stop thinking about the "well it was never that far from the surface, mate" line from Donna when 14 is surprised that he's now willing to be casual and upfront about being attracted to men bc like. Iirc season 4 is one of the few seasons with either almost no or straight up no times where we see The Doctor have a bit of a cheeky flirt with a man. I think the only real season 4 cheeky flirting is with HER and it's in the "no stakes no intentions just goofing off flirting with a close friend" kind of way. How the fuck did she clock his ass?? Did Ten and Donna have a Hot Girl Chat that the audience wasn't privy to? Is it a straightforward case of Donna having good bi to bi recognition? Does she still have enough of his memories to be like I KNOW WHAT YOU AND THE MASTER ARE? I want DETAILS I want ANSWERS

[asteria-argo]

You mentioned is one of your WIP posts about how the Richmond coaches share repairability of the players, I would love to hear your thoughts on who belongs to who?

Not only do I have thoughts, I have a whole chart.

The way this works in my mind is that it's a combination of how helpful the coach actually is when the player has a problem, how likely to player is to go to the coach for help and how well they get along just as people.

We'll start with Roy. Roy's only got a couple of players that are really his problem, for a couple reasons. One, Roy is scary and unapproachable but also two, Roy became a coach after most of the players had already cemented themselves as either Ted or Beards problems. That leaves Roy with Isaac and Jamie.

Jamie as Roy's problem is self explanatory. Ted fumbles the bag with Jamie every time he tries, and Beard kind of freaks Jamie out, so he doesn't usually go to him for help. We all agree Jamie is Roy's problem.

Isaac is also Roy's problem. This has canon basis, I can cite my sources but for convenience sake I'll paraphrase my reasoning and that is that Roy was a lot more instrumental to Isaacs development than any of the other coaches. Roy is the one who chose Isaac as the next captain, it was Roy who helped Isaac through his slump in season two before Roy had even come back to be a coach, and it was Roy who spoke to Isaac after he went after that fan in the stands. Isaac is Roy's problem.

Next we'll talk about Beard. Beard in canon doesn't have a lot of one on one interaction with any of the players, so I'm going mostly on vibes for the players that are his problem.

That's why Bumbercatch is mainly Beards problem. I think their weird girl energies line up pretty well, and when Bumbercatch is doing weird things Ted doesn't know how to handle, Beard is usually able to step in. Jan Maas is also mostly Beards problem, because Jan Maas appreciates Beards direct but minimal approach to coaching.

Colin is also a good balance of Ted's problem and Beard's problem with a slight lean towards being Beards problem. Not because Colin actually goes to Beard for help that often, more because Beard decided Colin was his problem and keeps an eye on him when he can. I was actually tempted to make a little circle that included Trent and put Colin there, because that is who Colin actually goes too for help more often than not, but in terms of The Coaches, Colin is usually Beards problem.

Zoreaux and Richard were tricky for me, because they don't do a lot in canon so I think they both fall under the general umbrella of being Ted's problem because he's the manager more often than not, but I think Beard is pretty involved with the goal keepers so Zoreaux is his problem sometimes.

As for Ted, he will usually take point in issues regarding Dani or Sam. As the manager, everyone on the team is under the blanket umbrella of being his problem, but Sam and Dani will usually seek Ted specifically out for help with things on the occasions they need it and Ted is always be happy to help them to the best of his ability.

As for all the background himbos, they fall solidly in the center thanks to the fact that because they have at best vague personalities and I don't even know most of their names, so they're usually the problem of whoever is closest to them at the time.

I hope you enjoyed this because I spend So Much Time thinking about it.

[dameronscopilot]

just wanted to let you know if you ever wanted to write abt poe damerons uhhh oral fixation I am ALL ears

Poe Dameron's Oral Fixation

Poe Dameron x f!reader

Content: 18+ NSFW, smut, oral fixation, p in v, oral sex, rimming

Poe Dameron's mouth is never idle.

If he’s not using it to bark out orders and commands to his team, he’s doling out quips and remarks with a lazy grin spread across his face. Even when he’s quietly listening, he’ll often run the tips of his fingers along his bottom lip or press the cool metal of the chain hanging around his neck to his mouth. And his tongue? His goddamn tongue can never stay put—if it’s not sliding between the seam of his lips, he’s subconsciously running it over his teeth.

...but how does his oral fixation carry over into the bedroom?

First and foremost, you never quite knew what it meant to have someone kiss you like they were fucking your mouth until you met Poe Dameron. The way he kisses you alone is enough to leave you dizzy and wet, clenching your thighs together as your arousal soaks through your underwear.

Point blank: he'll suck on your tits like his life depends on it. Nipple orgasms are real, and Poe is an expert in the subject. (Sometimes, he likes to just bury his face in your breasts, slowly lapping at them as he ruts against you.)

Poe took your fingers into his mouth while you were riding him once, and the two of you discovered just how goddamn hard sucking on the digits makes him come (so naturally, it became a regular thing).

This man shoves his tongue in your ass like nobody's business. Ass worship isn't enough to describe it.

Finally, Poe's single favorite place for his mouth to be: buried between your thighs, thrusting his tongue in and out of your throbbing cunt. If you could handle a championship level of edging, Poe would be more than happy to spend hours upon hours lapping at your slick, dripping folds.

(And the feeling of you trembling against him, whining and moaning when you do finally gush all over his tongue, is enough to have Poe coming in his pants before you've even gotten a chance to wrap your lips around his cock.)

[melodygatesauthor]

Very important question:

My answer is:

[ivystoryweaver]

your dads rival!leto atreides headcanons were delicious what do you think about dads rival!nathan bateman?

Your Father’s Rival!Nathan Bateman

Would Nathan engage in mainstream, juvenile behavior simply to piss off his rival? (Yes. Yes he would) Notes: smut, a bunch of oral, language. it's naughty

Word count: 3k

The above^ mentioned Father'sRival!Leto Atreides hc's @reallyrallyauthor received similar asks (Father's Rival!Nathan) and you HAVE to read the thots and headcanons - they are amazing

Everyone’s on Bluebook. Everyone. Except your family. Your friends never stop complaining about it. Your dad owns a less popular, less lucrative, but still - formidable social media platform, in addition to the rest of his business

And he hates Nathan Bateman.

He and Nathan went to school together-ish, briefly. Your dad was a superstar TA, about to finish his master's degree, when a sixteen-year-old freshman stole his spotlight. Nathan finished his two degrees and all his postgraduate work in two years,

Never got a doctorate because it was “boring.”

Your dad insists Nathan stole the idea for Bluebook. You just laugh at him. “Sure, he did, Dad.”

Despite your father's insistence to the contrary, you show up on Bluebook because you’re always in pictures with your friends.

One day your friend calls you absolutely freaking out. After a string of “oh my god oh my god's” she finally tells you that Nathan Bateman himself has liked her photo.

“Sure he did,” you deadpan. (Do you ever believe anyone?)

The next picture posted with you in it (by a completely different friend) gets a like from him. Then another, and another. One of your friends starts to put it together. Nathan has liked seventeen pictures by 6 different friends and the only connecting factor is that you are in each of them.

Then you get the email. “Nathan Bateman has invited you to join Bluebook.” You laugh. Sure it’s him. As if the reclusive billionaire plays middle school games.

But out of overwhelming curiosity and pure, college rebellion, you sign up before you can think too hard about it.

Your friends go crazy. “Look who’s finally here!” You get tagged in a hundred and one things…and Nathan likes every single one of them.

“Nathan Bateman follows you.” With the authenticated checkmark and everything. Your friends become obsessed. They follow every like, screenshotting and reposting like crazy.

Of course, by now, your father is livid. This is a betrayal of your entire family, apparently.

"You cannot give that man an inch," your dad rants, attempting to lecture you while you make dinner.

"What does that even mean?" You huff.

"He's using you to get to me," he conspiratorially rambles, pacing back and forth. "He's trying to destroy me. He's trying to take you away from me."

"He liked some pictures," you shrug, rolling your eyes. "Besides, he probably has like perfect models at his house every other weekend. He definitely doesn't want to take me anywhere."

An alert on your phone chimes.

Nathan Bateman. "Come to a party with me."

Oh shit.

"Who is that?" Your dad practically roars, fearing the worst. He is, unfortunately, correct in assuming Nathan is making a move. Or shit-shirring, whichever.

"Dad, I'm not answering that question." You fold your arms over your chest, tucking your phone out of his sight. "I'm twenty-two. Not twelve."

You lock yourself in your room and reply to Nathan, your heart pounding in your chest as you do.

"How did you get this number?"

"You signed up for Bluebook," He sends back. "I'll pick you up tonight at 10:00."

"Wait, tonight? Where are we going? What do I wear?"

"What you're wearing right now is fine. See you then."

What you're wearing right now.... is he spying on you?

You, of course, change out of your around-the-house clothes and dress in what you hope is passable party attire.

A limo arrives at 10:00 sharp to pick you up and you dart out the door, thankful your dad is already snoring on the couch. The driver opens the door for you, but the car is otherwise empty.

Your phone dings. "You changed clothes. I told you not to."

Your mouth drops open as you furiously type back, "You're really fucking creepy."

"Thank you"

You arrive at the nicest hotel in the city and are shuffled up to the penthouse. Nathan himself greets you in a white undershirt, thin gray joggers and bare feet. The shirt hugs his impressive muscles while the joggers highlight a bulge between his legs that makes your eyes linger.

"Jesus, that took forever. Should've sent the chopper."

He turns on his heel and walks inside, assuming you'll follow, which you do. Glancing around, you realize no one else is at this "party"

He plops down at a dining room table, pulls one leg up into his chair, grabs some chopsticks and continues eating a meal he started without you.

Noticing you standing there, stupefied, he motions to the chair across from him with his chopsticks.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You scoff, folding your arms over your chest.

Dark eyebrows shoot up over his wire frames questioningly.

"I'm allergic to shellfish...and basically like the whole ocean."

(He knows)

"Shit," he laughs. "Better not post a picture of our date, then, or your father will accuse me of attempted murder."

“Date? This is supposed to be a party."

Before he answers you, he holds up his phone and snaps your picture.

"What the hell are you - "

Ding, ding, dingdingingngngngg before you can even finish your sentence, your phone blows up with Bluebook notifications.

Nathan Bateman has tagged you in a photo. It's you, standing here, now. Thank god you dressed cute, but the expression on your face could be better. Still, you've looked worse.

But it's the caption. My fucking hot date

Nathan grabs the phone out of your hand and silences it, making sure it doesn't vibrate either.

"You have notifications on? Desperate." He tuts condescendingly.

You snatch the phone back and whack Nathan on the arm. "You said party. Not date. Do you ever tell the truth?"

He shrugs. "Well...you are fucking hot."

Smooth. “Why…am I here exactly?”

He nods, shoveling more fish into his mouth. “I know you ate dinner with your dad, but those Italian subs you like are on the way if you’re still hungry.”

"Mr. Bateman, really - "

He snorts. "Mr. Bateman was my father."

You gasp in mock surprise. "You mean to tell me you didn't come out of a test tube?"

He motions at you with his chopsticks. "Where do you get that sense of humor? Certainly not from your father. I've never met anyone with less imagination."

"What do you want, Nathan? Assassination by shellfish?" You fold your arms over your chest. "No way am I worth all this effort."

"Nonsense, I've been orchestrating our meeting for some time." Finally he confesses. "I’m buying out your father’s company and I want you to convince him to surrender peacefully.”

You don’t even know where to begin. Your dad is selling? Nathan’s buying? “You would never need someone like me for something like that.” You call his bluff.

He insists he’ll make it worth your while.

“How?”

He shrugs. “I have a huge dick.”

Wha? “You’re disgusting.”

“Why? According to your porn history, you fantasize about riding a big dick. I have one. Your dad surrenders peacefully, you get to ride my dick.”

"If you wanted me to touch you, you shouldn't have covered yourself in deadly allergens. Dumbass."

He continues eating. “Your loss. Your dad will already think we fucked though.”

He’s right. Everyone will actually, after that picture.

“So you might as well at least get a hate fuck out of it.”

“I hate you,” you redundantly declare. You head for the door. He is way over the line.

“You’ll be back.”

The aftermath is absurd. Your father is enraged, your friends will not shut up about your “date” with Nathan (and demand the details about the alleged sex you had with him).

Nathan sends flowers. Tulips (your favorite) mixed with stargazer lilies (which you’re allergic to). 'Miserable without you' the card says.

Your father half seriously threatens to kick you out.

Nathan tags you on Bluebook, saying you’re going to Hawaii together, if you’ll stop being mad at him.

From there, interested people start a whole narrative online, quickly and easily convincing themselves that you’re together. He texts you for weeks (You text him back. He's funny) and even calls you sometimes.

One evening, his face appears on your screen - a call you didn't accept. "Why are you stalking me?"

"Did you pack for Hawaii yet? I sent some things over."

He's working out. No glasses. Tank top. Sweat. Muscles. Fuck, he's hot.

"Yes, Nathan, I got all twenty packages." With beautiful clothes and accessories exactly your size and style. Damn him.

"But you didn't pack?" He waves his hand dismissively. "Fuck it, I'll buy you new stuff when we get there."

You remind Nathan how he is trying to destroy your father's company, not to mention steal your inheritance, so there is definitely no way you're going to Hawaii with him.

"Come over then. No shellfish, I swear. I'll eat you out instead."

Holy shit.

You’re stupefied.

He groans.

“Are you going to stare at the screen or go outside and get in the limo? I’m waiting.”

This time, the limo takes you to a helipad. You reluctantly climb on a helicopter, briefly wondering if this is a corporate kidnapping or the first leg of your alleged Hawaiian adventure. After quite a long ride, you arrive at a well hidden, sprawling estate, tucked effortlessly into the side of a mountain.

It’s freezing, but Nathan waits for you in a light windbreaker and joggers, with bare feet.

You’re secretly thrilled that he’s waiting to greet you. He kisses your cheek almost affectionately, then turns on his heel and walks away. You follow, naturally.

Once inside, he motions to a gigantic vase filled with calla lilies. “Those are for you. My assistant sent you those fucking stargazer lilies. Well, former assistant. By the way, do you want a job?”

Your hands land on your hips. “You already tried to kill me with shellfish, so I just assumed stargazer lilies were the next logical step. And did you seriously just ask me if I want to be your personal assistant? On the heels of you stealing my inheritance?”

“My assistant made almost as much as your father pays himself before I fired him,” he scoffs, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger. "I'm not touching your inheritance." He nods to a stack of papers. "It's all right there. Have your attorneys take a look."

Slowly you approach the table, tracing one fingertip over the beautiful calla lilies before reaching for the papers. You sigh, shaking your head. "You're talking about my dad's life work. He'll never agree."

Nathan shrugs one shoulder. "He said he would if I'd leave you alone. Never see you again, ghost you."

Your eyes go wide. "Then what am I doing here?"

He waves his hand dismissively, inching toward you. "I still have to eat you out."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nathan's thick beard and perfect lips have been nestled scandalously between your thighs for thirty-eight minutes. You've gushed all over him twice, in, hands down, the best orgasms you've ever had in your life.

Better than anybody before him. Better than your vibrator. And your other vibrator.

Your fingertips play with his fuzzy hair as your hips eagerly rock into his face again and again. Tears streak down your cheeks, pooling on the couch pillow under your hair. The overstimulation is like nothing you've ever dreamed - searing every nerve ending in delicious torture.

But you can't stop and he won't stop.

You thought he was fucking with you when he asked you to come over so he could eat you out. He hasn't even used his fingers - only his lips and tongue, stroking, licking, sucking, swirling, fucking up into you over and over. His thick fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place while his thumbs languidly trace the sensitive spot where your ass meets the back of your thigh.

Body shuddering in rapture, you teeter on the precipice of another wave of pleasure tinged with the slightest discomfort skittering along your spine because it's just too fucking much.

"Nathan...Nathan," you breathlessly moan, halfheartedly attempting to push his shoulders away from your pussy.

He raises his head just long enough to meet your blissed out, watery gaze, smiling in satisfaction. "You're close, honey. Give me one more." And dives back in without a moment's hesitation.

"oh fuck..." incoherent moans and gasps follow as he suckles your clit between his lips so tortuously your back arches off the couch. His tongue joins, rapidly flicking your swollen bud as you shatter and gush, squirting all over his tongue and soaking his beard.

Your vision goes white and your body limply falls away from his mouth as he releases you, groaning with the satisfaction that his rival's daughter is underneath him, whimpering and squirting.

His cock is so hard it hurts and he's leaked through his thin joggers, rubbing himself against your leg while he got you off. Now, as you come back to yourself, he pulls his dick out and jerks it rough and quick, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening pussy that he can still taste in his mouth.

Your eyes flicker open to the sight of Nathan, pants pooled at his ankles, thick fingers wrapped around his dick. He was not lying. His cock is huge. Not comedically huge, like ridiculously, unfuckably huge, but definitely the thickest and longest you've ever had.

Not that you've had him. Yet.

Wetting your lips, you reach up to help him jerk off, which pulls a filthy string of curses from his lips. Pushing your fingers through his, you work up and down his shaft, bringing your other hand underneath him to cup his balls. He hisses and then groans as your tongue swirls over his leaking tip.

"If Daddy could see you now. Naked, on your knees, with my cock in your mouth. Fuck..."

You should be mad, or something. But you open your mouth wider and let Nathan push his cock all the way to the back of your throat, gagging as you swallow his tip. The most beautiful, dirty sounds you've ever heard from a man fall out of his lips as he thrusts a few times in rapid succession, praising and degrading you in the same sentence.

You can't breathe, tears burn your eyes, but through your cloudy vision, you can see his lips moving like a prayer, corded neck straining as he releases his hold in his dick and grips the nape of your neck, fucking your face, thrusting so hard you know your jaw will be sore for days.

You keep jerking him, fondling and caressing every bit of him that won't fit in your mouth. It's been a long time since you sucked a cock, and never one this big, but you keep taking it because he sounds weak for you and he's calling you his and telling you how good you feel.

Your mind fleetingly drifts to the safe word he gave you before he dove into your pussy: the one you shrugged off, as if he could possibly make you need it.

He scoffed at you. "Honey, if you don't wanna safeword tonight, I'm doing something wrong."

"Asshole," you huffed as he licked the first stripe between your folds, sending your head flying back and your mouth gasping.

You tap his leg forcefully three times and he instantly pulls out of your mouth as you gag and sputter, your weight falling forward. Bracing yourself on your hands, you drag in gulps of air, realizing that Nathan is above you finishing himself off, getting off on the fact that he's ruined you.

Hot spurts of come splatter across your bare shoulders and back. "Stay down," he orders, sent over the edge by the sight of you naked and on all fours. He unloads on you, painting your skin until he's spent. He flops back on the other end of the sofa, half naked, limp dick flopping as his eyes squeeze shut in bliss.

You're drenched in cum and sweat and your slick, filthy and somehow still wildly turned on. The thought fleetingly crosses your mind - that you wish Nathan would take your picture. Not to post, but it would just feel deliciously dirty to know he had a picture of your naked body, covered in his cum, that he could jerk off to.

"I should post a picture of you now," he lazily grins, reading your mind. "Really piss him off. Get banned from my own site."

You stand, hands landing on bare hips. "Are you going to mention my dad every time we fuck?"

He chuckles, standing to join you. "Have we even really fucked yet? Let's clean up. Our flight to Hawaii is in four hours."

"Hawaii again?" You gasp. "Nathan - "

"Look, you drive a hard bargain," he concedes, throwing his hands up. Reaching for his glasses, he kicks off his joggers off his ankles, now as naked as you. "Final offer: I'm already getting your dad's company. He's being fairly compensated. You still get your inheritance and you have generous stock in my company."

Inching forward, he reaches for the swell of your hips, pulling you flush against his muscled chest. "You get to ride my dick, you come with me to Hawaii, I get to post a selfie of us in bed together."

Your mouth drops open.

"Just from the shoulders up," he counters, before you can fire off a protest.

"I don't think I'm getting much out of this deal," you pout. "Your dick can't be that good."

"It is," he almost playfully assures you, nodding rapidly.

As you roll your eyes, he nibbles on your bottom lip. "Come on. I've never made this much effort for anyone."

"You hate my dad that much?"

"No. I want to fuck you that much."

"You're full of shit, Bateman."

"Smile." He snaps your picture. You dive for the phone, squealing at him not to post it. He has no intention of doing so, but attempting to wrestle the phone away from him is how you end up on his living room floor, riding his huge dick.

As your eyes roll back in your head while you're coming, Nathan smirks victoriously.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist

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[female-hysterics]

Omg 😭😭😭 Sex with stalker!Steven is so insane. Can't fuck you in a normal position. He wants to see your face? Forget missionary, he's folding you into a mating press. You wanna go doggy? Nope. He's holding your arms behind your arms and going prone bone. If it's your first time fucking and he doesn't wanna scare you with any restraining he's pounding into you so hard your legs give out and pulling your hair so hard he's pulling you into a fucking hissing cobra position. Mans is so sweet with his dirty talking, so reverent with how his hands roam your body that you almost (almost) forget he's compressing your spine

Steven will also turn into a completely feral animal while fucking you. I will die on this hill 😤

Stalker!Steven is so frantic when he finally gets you naked, so animalistic and desperate, and it leaves your head spinning. He would have no qualms about urging you to your knees with love shining in his eyes, fisting your hair tightly while guiding you mouth along his cock, and he fucks your throat with abandon almost as soon as you get your mouth on him.

Steven prefers you to deepthroat because he feels so much closer to you that way, wants you to gag and drool around him and dig your nails into his thighs, and he would throw his head back while looking at you through his lashes and clutch at you skull and whimper out praise and groans out how pretty you look and how much he loves you. He would spill deep inside your mouth and then make you warm him until he’s hard again with soft pets on your cheek and hair and soft words of adoration.

Flipping and turning you into a multiple of positions, trying to get as deep into your tight wet cunt as possible, and there have been plenty of times where you have woken up in the middle of the night to his face buried between your thighs as he licks into you. He would eat you out until you’re sobbing, hiking your legs over his shoulders and lifting your body up so you are braced on nothing but your shoulders on the bed, and he is tonguefucking you like you are the last thing he will be able to taste. He will be furiously pumping his cock in his hand with his brows furrowed in fierce concentration, but his eyes would never leave your face. He would watch you come apart as he pulls orgasm after orgasm from you until your legs are trembling and you can barely keep your eyes open. 

Then he would crawl up your quaking body and thrust into you while pining your legs open and fuck you until you pass out from the pleasure with his sweet voice whispering in your ear.

[sundrop-writes]

you were nice to me and acknowledged my existence so i hope you know that means you’ve unknowingly asked for all my dumbass, hyper-specific 12AM bullshit thoughts.

you can turn this into a mini blurb or teen wolf pack headcanon - whatever works for you, but who do you think in the pack is would be into you wearing a necklace (or any form of jewelry really) with their name/initial on it? are they buying it for you or is it something you would have to initiate, do they want one too with your name/initial on it?

i know it’s not everyone’s thing but i think it can be really adorable 🥰

if this isn’t your vibe just let me know, no biggie 🩷

This is absolutely my vibe!!! I love this prompt so much omg. Also, I love it when people come to me with their random 12am bullshit - whether it's just to rant in my inbox about fictional characters or to suggest fic ideas. This is what Tumblr inboxes are for

My requests for Teen Wolf are open!! Just make sure to read my rules first!!

What would the pack think of you wearing a necklace that represents them?

A/N: I changed it from an initial to a representative symbol, partially because of a tiktok that Star sent me the other day of someone selling Teen Wolf necklaces in an Etsy shop that I can't stop thinking about and I want one so badly, and partially because I think Derek's tattoo would make a really amazing necklace.

Warnings: descriptions of canon level violence, I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possible (please let me know if I messed up anywhere on that), Isaac's low self eesteem due to his father's abuse, mentions of Jackson x Lydia, references to sex (but nothing descriptively smutty), I think that's it.

Includes: Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Erica Reyes (I got tired while writing this so that's all the characters we have lmao)

Derek would love it. It would be his idea - he would be the one to give you the necklace.

He met you shortly before becoming an Alpha, and you were the defining member of his pack. You were the first person he had bitten in order to turn them - you had been bleeding out outside of the Hale house after Peter had stuck his claws through your stomach, sensing Derek's attachment to you (even if it was something that Derek himself hesitated to admit), and he had called Derek weak for taking a liking to you. So the moment after Derek had slashed Peter's throat open, making him the Alpha, he had used his new found power to bite you, ultimately saving your life.

You were someone he had once viewed as his weakness, but he had come to realize that you were his ultimate strength. You showed him how to interact with Erica, Isaac, and Boyd with kindness and understanding, you showed him how to harness his Alpha power with more than just the anger he harboured inside. You showed him love - something his isolated heart hadn't felt in years.

To him, the triskele tattoo on his back represented the three forms of a wolf could take - the powerful, leading Alpha, the following Beta, and isolated, weak Omega. It represents how a wolf can rise to power, but he can also fall to weakness if he's not careful.

When he gave you a necklace with that same symbol as its pendant, he explained to you why it was so important to him that you wear it.

"You have helped me rise to my full potential." He told you, pinning the clasp behind your neck. "Every time I look at this around your neck, I want to be reminded of that. I want to be reminded not to fall to anything less." He kissed the base of your neck, causing you to break into a large smile as his thick, warm arms wrapped around you from behind. "I need to be reminded to serve you a good, loyal Alpha every single day. Not to fall back into my former weaknesses."

"I thought I was your weakness?"

"No. You're my strength."

Isaac would be unsure about it. And it most definitely was not his idea.

It started with you and Lydia hanging out before a lacrosse game - the two of you were getting ready in her room, and while she finished up her makeup, she said 'oh!' as if suddenly remembering something, and then went to her jewellery box. You looked on in curiosity as she pulled out a necklace, and when you squinted closer, you saw that it was a silver pendant with the number 37 on it.

"What's that?" You asked.

"It's Jackson's jersey number." She told you. "It's good luck for a player's girlfriend to wear his jersey number, and I didn't want some big ugly jacket with the numbers written on the back."

It made you wonder if you should wear Isaac's jersey number to the game, even though the two of you had been playing around with dating, not exactly official. Isaac was hesitant on PDA and labels. Lydia encouraged you, though, and she ended up using a red lipstick to write his number 14 on your cheek, making you look like a crazed fan - but everybody at the game already knew who you were there for.

Before the next game, Lydia gifted you with a necklace similarly to her own, with the promise that she wouldn't have to freeze her ass off in the stands alone - and to her, it was like the two of you had matching best friend necklaces, representing the lugheads that you cheered for on the field together. At first, you only wore it to games. But then you found comfort in wearing it all the time.

Isaac, of course, took notice of this - his eyes easily magnetized to the number 14 glimmering on the silver chain around your neck.

He felt like he didn't deserve to have a mark on you. He was undeserving of claiming you, undeserving of being called your 'boyfriend'. He was worthless, and you wearing something that represented some kind of serious relationship between the two of you - why did you want him? Why?

After a long, tiring night of talking, some tears, and eventually some kissing - he finally understood. And from then on, he was more than proud to have his 14 constantly shining around your neck.

Scott would love it. But it would be your idea.

The two of you had to date in secret - your family had a loyalty, an alignment with the Argents, so you couldn't be seen with Scott in public, creating a deep frustration between the two of you when you couldn't hold hands in the hallways or go on 'real' dates like other couples could. Scott expressed a deep frustration at loving you, being your boyfriend, but not getting to be yours twenty-four seven like he wanted to, and that's what caused you to come up with the idea.

You got a silver heart locket necklace, and inside, put a picture of the two of you. Well - it was a piece of the picture of the two of you. You grabbed a photo of the two of you kissing, and cut out the space that had formed between your necks when your lips came together in a kiss - to anybody else (most important, if your family saw it) it would have looked like a photo of blank sky. But you and Scott were the only two people in the world who knew what the photo truly was.

And you gave him the rest of the photo with the missing heart shape cut out between the two of you so that he could be reminded of your next words every single time he looked at it.

"The space between us isn't what matters." You told him firmly, pointing to the space you had cut out of the photo. "No matter how big that space gets, we always know how much we love each other. We'll always have each other."

From then on, every single time he looked at the silver heart dangling around your neck, it was something he remembered with a smile. No matter how far the two of you had to be apart, no matter for how long - your love kept you together.

Stiles would absolutely love it. It would be his idea.

Stiles would be incredibly shy and shitting his pants nervous about asking you to wear his numbers, but the week before, you had asked him to be your boyfriend after a roaring success of a first date that he had no clue how he landed with you. His first game as a first linger was coming up, and he felt like things could only go up from here.

He had you, he was first line, so - he steadied his courage as he tightly gripped the black velvet box that had the shiny gold necklace in it, praying that this wouldn't be too much, too soon. Praying that he wasn't going to scare you off.

"Um, hey." He greeted you at your locker, a ball of nervous energy that had you giving him a questioning eyebrow.

"Good morning." You smiled at him, wondering why he was acting so strange. You leaned in and kissed him on the lips - a light, chaste kiss in greeting, and he felt himself nearly knocked over by the joy of it.

This was really real. He had you.

"What's that?" You asked, motioning toward the box in his hands.

"Oh, uh - a gift." He said. "For you."

"Stiles, you didn't have to. It's not my birthday or anything."

"I know." He said. "I want to - to do something special. To celebrate you being mine."

An intense wave of butterflies overtook you at this, and you look on in awe as he opened the box, presenting the necklace to you.

"It's - um - it's my jersey number. Ya know - 24. Just - it's a thing that people usually do, wearing their boyfriend's number... and I - am I being too weird? I'm sorry." He went off rambling the longer that you didn't speak, and you quickly raised a hand to his wrist, trying to calm him with a soothing touch there.

"I love it." You assured him with a smile. "Thank you. I can't wait to wear it."

"I could... help you put it on now?"

You nodded enthusiastically, and he excitedly grabbed it out of the box.

From then on, you never took it off. You were more than proud to be his, and proud to show it off by wearing the necklace.

Erica would fucking love it, but it wouldn't really be intentional on either of your behalves.

One thing Erica never expected about becoming a werewolf - how possessive it would make her. But being able to smell when someone had touched you, being able to hear how hard your heart pounded when you were scared or anxious - it made her want to rip apart anybody who even looked at you the wrong way. The two of you weren't even officially dating. Your friendship always crossed weird lines - you were the only person who was kind to her when she was an outcast, and after she transformed, you were the only person she knew for certain didn't just want her for her body.

The sex between the two of you was amazing, but you never talked about feelings.

One night in the haste of undressing, she dropped a necklace on your floor - a nameplate necklace that her parents had gotten for her birthday a few years ago. You didn't want to forget to bring it back to her, and you thought it was funny, a kind of joke - so you put it on. You thought nothing of having the name 'Erica' dangling around your neck in bold silver letters.

When Erica saw it - it drove all of her wolfish instincts insane. Seeing her claim on you, her name literally written across you - it took everything she had in her not to throw you across a table in the middle of the library and fuck your brains out, then and there.

And she saw the way other people reacted to it too. The way guys would go to flirt with you, but then their eyes would dart down to the necklace and then look to her, as if finally noticing her presence glaring at them, telling them to back off - and then they would scatter in fear. It was the first time in weeks that the two of you actually had peace.

So she implored you to keep it. She loved having a silent little claim on you. After all, wolves love claiming their territory, right?

...

Teen Wolf Masterlist

[nowritingonthewall]

Hey, Chrissie. Love you. You know that. Okay, I heard people were talking shit about my girl Elvira. Story time!! Last year, I went to the BAM opening night party of The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window. I met Oscar who was lovely and told him immediately that I was a huge fan of Elvira’s work as an aspiring filmmaker myself. He lit up like a Christmas tree. He said “You should tell her that!!” She was talking to someone and I was like she’s busy and he practically shoved me at her. “She would love to hear it! Go tell her!” I did and she was so sweet. She said I need to make tons of movies so they (she and Oscar) can go see them and was floored when I told her she was an inspiration of mine. So I can tell you straight from the source that couple is madly in love, Oscar supports the shit out of his wife, and most importantly, Elvira is a goddess among mere mortals. To truly be a fan of Oscar’s, you gotta love the amazing artist he is married to and makes his life possible. The end.

OMG Jess, I love you, too 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

You were literally the first person I thought about when it comes to amazing fan experiences with Elvira, but I wasn't sure whether you'd be comfortable with me openly talking about it here.

So thank you so much for sharing your story with us 💜💜💜💜💜

I am not even joking, you all need to read this 🥰